#but we perfectly compliment the others quirks

[rowanhoney]

can’t express how wonderful the changes have been in my life this past month. I’m beyond grateful and so full of love and joy

[lilacgaby]

title: gala gone wrong?

pairing: prohero!bakugo x prohero!reader

katsuki was suddenly forced to confront his feelings for you, when you were put in the date auction for charity.

the heroes gala was something katsuki wouldn't look forward to normally. but this year he had a plan. he was going to ask you to be his date.

...originally. he chickened out last minute and owed kirishima 1000 dollars.

he was surprised to see you come alone though, opting to sit next to him which made him fist pump internally. you were a very successful hero who also doubled as a model. for what reason you ask?

none really, you just did it cause days off of hero work were boring. walking runways, topping charts, and beating villains with style was just another day for you.

you looked especially gorgeous this evening though, working with another up and coming designer to design a dress that perfectly complimented everything from your skin color, to you hair, to even references of your quirk.

katsuki suddenly felt underdressed in his suit, but to be fair every hero who was a man was dressed in a suit. except for monoma.

the auction portion of the gala started before the awards were to be given out.

the awards were pretty pointless in katsuki's mind. the only ones that mattered to him were the final rankings of popularity, efficiency, and the overall category.

"you nervous?" you whispered, talking over the first few lower ranked hero's to be auctioned for a date.

"nah, i know i won at least in popularity." he said, trying to keep eye contact with you without stuttering.

"hmm. what if i won? huh?"

"shut up."

she put a hand over her mouth, when suddenly-

"and the last date to be auctioned, a night with the top ranked woman hero [name]!"

"huh? oh that's me!" you said, collecting your dress as you walked to the stage, leaving katsuki blinking in confusion to himself.

you were in this? i mean it shouldn't have been a surprise, you had a rabidly loyal fan base, even since U-A. but what was he supposed to do? bid?

"the bid starts at.. 15,000 dollars." you rolled your eyes and gestured for people to go higher, and they did.

"17,000!"

"20,000!"

"30,000"

numbers were being shouted from all around the room, with the highest bids barely even being able to be tracked. the bids ranged from new heroes who definetly could not afford you, to old men who you really wish couldn't afford you.

you covered your mouth as you let a laugh escape you, this was hilarious to you, you'd have to do this more often.

after a bunch of back and forth, one booming voice cut all the others off.

"500,000 dollars. cash." to your surprise it wasn't an old creep. grand, also known as shindo yo, had suddenly bid. just as they were about to call off the auction and announce shindo the winner,

katsuki's internal dialogue won and 'forced' him to bid too. "750,000 dollars." he declared.

he doesn't think he'd have done it had it been any other idiot who wanted a chance with you, but that loser had to go.

"sold! to dynamite! we've broken a record here folks, 750,000 for the charity of --"

the words faded into the background as he looked up at you, smiling and walking over to him. he felt is heart speed up, his hands drown in sweat, his hair puff out.

"if you wanted to take me out you could've just asked katsuki." you joked, taking him by the hand as you pulled him back to the table towards the back you two were settled in on.

"whatever, now we have an excuse to."

"don't tell me you like me or something katsuki? how embarrassing."

"i told you shut it."

she laughed and settled down, poking him on the cheek. "its okay if you do, i like you quite a lot dynamite."

he flushed red at that, tiny explosions being let out from his hands inadvertently because of how caught off guard he was.

she held his hand under the table, before looking straight ahead to the ceremonies going on in front of them. he smiled and leaned back.

the awards were pretty boring when compared to the view of you, so until they had gotten to the cool stuff he just eyed you.. daydreaming about the life you'll have together someday.

he focused again when the top three heroes in popularity, efficiency, and overall were to be announced by all might.

at the end of the night, not only did he leave with a number one trophy with 'popular vote!' embedded in its side and an all-might signature at the bottom,

he also left with a lipstick mark from you right on his cheek, some flowers, and a small note that read 'see you tomorrow :)'.

[timeslugarts]

Grunkle Stan x Reader What happens when you see Stan after his memory is wiped?

A/N: idk if this is any good, I literally just had this idea and to get it out, so here you go, I guess.

“What do you mean he lost his memory?” You look from Stan sitting on the chair to Ford who stands twiddling his fingers.

You had been left behind in The Shack as the others went to Bill's lair to rescue Ford. You don't remember much having been knocked unconscious from Bill tearing the giant mech apart, but when you awoke you lay by Stan's recliner everything exactly how it's always been, light gently streaming in through the windows, sounds of crickets and birds just outside. Like nothing had happened at all.

That is until Ford and the kids returned, guiding Stan to his usual seat. You were so relieved, tears burning your eyes. They were all home, they were all safe. Stan was alive.

You had rushed into his arms as he sat on the chair. Your knees hitting the floor as you wrapped yourself around his middle. That's when you knew something was wrong. Stan had stiffened at your touch, an awkward arm coming around patting you gingerly on the back.

Your head whipped up making eye contact with Stan who was looking back at you with uncertainty. A soft blush dusting the tips of his ears, under normal circumstances this would have been very cute, but not now.

Ford spoke up, “He saved us all, but in order to do so we… we had to wipe his memory.”

“It can't be gone, there has to be something we can do!” Mabel yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ran out of the living room in a flurry of hiccups and potential ideas to get Stan's memory.

“I don't understand,” you breathed, “wipe his memory?” But you knew, you understood perfectly well. You just refused to believe it.

Ford walked over to you and gently put a hand on your shoulder, “he saved everyone in Gravity Falls, he's a hero. He's a hero and he doesn't even know it.”

The dam broke and you felt yourself begin to cry. “He was always a hero,” you looked back into his eyes, nothing was there, no recognition, he had no idea who you were. “You were my hero.”

Stan finally had to look away, even in his state of amnesia he still couldn't take a compliment.

You chuckled pathetically.

Standing on shaky legs you made your way onto the back porch and collapsed, you balled yourself and began to sob. Quietly, you didn't want anyone to heat you, even though they very well knew what you were doing.

A stretch of time passed and you had finally managed to cry yourself out. Your eyes still burned but you were just looking at the sky as it quickly became dusky.

The screen door screeched open and shut behind you. You didn't bother to look, it had to have been Ford checking in on you.

“Listen doll-”

Your eyes slid over to Stan as he grunted sitting on the porch next to you. Seeing his face with no recognition of you hurt so much you almost began to cry again. At least he was alive, you kept telling yourself.

“I may not remember you, but I can tell you were someone special to me.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes understatement of the year.

“Stop that, it's annoying when you do that.” he flicked your shoulder, “I'm just trying to be comforting.” You blinked a couple of times, eyes opening wider.

“As I was saying,” he cleared his throat, putting his hand gently on your back, “if you are someone important then I'm going to do all I can to make sure you stay that way.”

You smiled softly looking over at him, he was smiling back. “Thanks Stan, you know maybe I can get something out of this no memory thing, like a puppy or a raise?” You quirked an eyebrow up.

He rolled his eyes, “don't press your luck toots.” He groaned standing to his feet, knees popping, “I'll never understand why you prefer sitting on the stoop when there's a perfectly good couch right there.” he grumbled more to himself than anything.

He shook his and started walking back inside, “Now come on Ford said he's got dinner almost ready.”

All you could do was stare after him, your eyes wide as tears began to slip down your face again, but this time you were smiling.

[fairytsuk1]

hips don't lie | (s)

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 2.5k

warnings: sexual content, drinking (of age), sexual dancing, mild voyeurism, mild public sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, pre-established relationship

summary: alex knows you think he's hot. when you're all out and about, the pressure builds till you both can't take it anymore.

The two of you dressed in tandem, slipping past each other to apply perfume and perfectly tie a tie. Still, neither of you could hide the longing glances at the silhouette of Alex's body or the whisper of promise accentuated by your curves. Alex watches you work through your make-up routine while he sits on the bed, already ready.

"Is–what's his name–going to be there? Roier?"

Alex stands and draws close to you, crowding your inner bubble and resting a chin on your shoulder, "yeah, but he'll probably be busy with Sabi. Did I tell you how good you look in this dress, hm?"

You have to remember that you have somewhere to be when you feel Alex's hands possessively glide down the bones of your hips, circling back to your ass and squeezing.

"You did, actually, when I bought it," you smirk at him through the mirror, clipping in an earring, "don't get handsy. We need to leave soon."

"I'm not getting handsy! I'm just appreciating your body. I mean, how could I not?"

Alex says it so genuinely, lips quirked up as he wraps his arms around you comfortingly. You know he means every compliment, every embrace, every little instance reminded you that he truly loved you. The two of you glance at each other before your lips are joined in a heated kiss that your boyfriend eagerly accepts. A dominant hand splays across your lower back, tugging you chest to chest; his free hand slips down and grabs a handful of your behind, "Alex!"

"Sorry," he cheekily laughs, pecking your lips softly once more, "let's get going."

He leaves your heart beating and thighs squeezing together most unfairly. He was so devastatingly attractive, with a demeanor that made you feel like a princess. Your lips twist into a pout while you punch his arm, "that's what I've been saying, actually!" 

"Oh, is that what you were saying?"

Your boyfriend's already grabbed his keys as wiggly fingers tickle your waist in the doorway. Alex feels his heart grow as you laugh, hair messily bouncing as your lifted lashes fluttered at him, "stop it! You're gonna ruin my hair, Lex."

He heeds your request, unlocking the front door to your shared apartment before pausing before you.

"Hey, I love you," he says.

The blush starts at your cheeks before encapsulating your head in flames. It's so mushy, brown eyes round like boba sparkling at you as he lets himself have a moment of vulnerability. Your hand comes to cup his cheek, and you feel as if you're precisely where you need to be, your thumb coming up just short of the mole under his eye.

"I love you too," and your empathetic eyes begin to well.

As in tune with you as always, Alex is quick to wave away tears by pulling you close into the warmth of his side.

"Don't cry! I didn't say that just for you to cry. Besides, how can you cry when we're having drinks tonight?"

Alex's ever-present excitement for drinking doesn't go unnoticed by you; it's enough to wipe a lone tear and peck his jaw, "nothing could ever stop me from drinking with you. I still watch that video of you doing karaoke that one time!"

"God, please don't talk about that! Ugh, I can't believe you still even have that. It's horrible! You have blackmail on your phone, literally."

Your conversation delves into nonsense, bantering and lightly ribbing each other the whole car ride. His hand, of course, stays on your thigh the entire ride.

-

You're a few drinks in and realize you severely underscored Alex's attractiveness that night as you took him in during a minute of group socialization. He'd been steadily killing it the whole night, a hand leading you from the small of your back and laughing with people as if he'd known everyone for years. It wasn't easy showing up as a streamer's plus one, but he knew how to make you feel accepted and relaxed.

Now, however, you're starting to get a bit needy after far too many glasses of red wine and a lingering hand on your inner thigh. Alex is faring even worse. It was as if the combination of alcohol with your high-libidos led to a fantastic product of pure lust. The two of you knew there wasn't a more inappropriate time to disappear to the bathrooms. Still, every look was supercharged with arousal and wanting. 

People from the QSMP crowd your table, infinitely singing praises at your boyfriend's table. Rafael, or Cellbit, says something about dancing, and your mind is plagued by thoughts echoing what you wanted to do most. You needed to show Alex how much you wanted him.

Alex beat you to the chase, "Let's go dance!"

"Okay," your skin is flushed from intoxication, and Alex's touch against your palm sends electricity up your spine.

It's a bit crowded moving to the dance floor, but soon, you find your own spot in the crowd where there's just enough breathing room for you and him to be face to face. It feels intimate, just slightly swaying together. Then, his hands are skimming the edge of your dress and sliding right up to your hips.

You lean in close, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear, "not too much PDA for you?"

"Not at all. I mean, it's better than ripping your clothes off and fucking you right here," his hands bring you so close that your hips are flush, "that's what I really wanna do to you right now."

A breath is caught in your throat as you discreetly sway with the group. His cock slowly begins to press against your thigh as he looks at you with pure need. There's no doubt your panties are soaked with arousal as you imagine how he'd feel, leaving bruises on the contours of your hips, pulling you back against his cock as you struggle to barely hold yourself up. 

"Alex, I want you so bad," you whisper into his ear, "and I can feel you. I wanna suck you off."

The fact you're speaking so lewdly with no one catching on makes both of your pulses quicken. Practically in the distance, the DJ changes the song, and you take the opportunity to use Alex's aroused shock to turn in his arms.

"Let's just go to the bathroom real quick and–"

"Let's just dance for a second, yeah?"

He doesn't even have the chance to rebuke you, too entranced by how you teasingly sway your hips against his now prominent bulge. To others, it just looks like an average couple having an intimate time; only God knows how much Alex is thinking of the softness of your cheeks that press into his thighs, the way your hips effortlessly tilt the same way you would be riding him at his desk. You act so nonchalantly like this, but he's the only one making you moan and whine while he sucks on your wet clit like a man starved.

You only tone down your seductive dancing when his hands wrap around your middle with no wiggle room. Alex holds you in place, and your eyes want to roll back in your head from the way he lightly presses your lower stomach against him. He always feels so massive behind you like this, like he's in total control of your body which makes your clit pulse.

"You can be so naughty sometimes, I'm so fucking hard in my pants now. It's all your fault, you know," he whispers hotly in your ear, "Why don't we go to the bathroom for a second, baby?"

"But I'm having fun dancing," you brattily reply, tilting your jaw up to stare at him through your lashes.

He gives you a plain look, and the submissive bone in your body leaves your legs shaking. 

"You could be having much more fun getting fucked by me, getting split open on my cock. But you don't have to do anything you don't want to," he drops the ultimatum, but the both of you already know your answer.

"Take me to the bathroom," you mumble, pressing against him.

Within moments, your boyfriend has come up with a lame excuse: "Yeah, she's feeling a bit sick!" The two of you are speedwalking to the private bathrooms and clicking the locks shut. Once safely secure, affirmed by the slide and click of the lock, Alex is quick to make work of your body and fiercely bring you into a makeout session with him.

It's hot, messy, it's so wet the way your lips collide against each other. The tension finally builds up and culminates in gliding your tongue against his as he works a knee between your legs. You knew you needed him, but your body was buzzing as his hands cupped your breasts roughly, "ah, fuck. I'm so horny."

"How do you think I feel," he groans, sucking a mark into your neck, "I feel like a teenager, about to come in my pants over your fucking grinding."

Alex's hand cups your jaw to bring your lips together again, tugging on the delicate skin as he drinks you in, "you're fucked up for that, you know?"

"I know, but you like being teased."

"I don't! I really don't," he mumbles, pulling off his suit jacket and hanging it on the door hook, "I should really get you back."

Your boyfriend says it as he manages to pull the cups of your bra down, freeing your chest from the confines of your chest. The cold, naked breeze leaves you aching to cover up, but Alex soothes your pebbling nipples with the warmth of his mouth and slick of his tongue. It feels too good, moans squeaking out of you as he tweaks and sucks at the puckering buds.

He always wants to make you feel good, which means learning everything that made you tick as he absolutely ravishes you. Your nipples were always so sensitive, your fingernails scratching his scalp like the pleasure was crawling out of you like a woman enchanted. 

"Yeah, babe? You like it when I play with your pretty tits?"

"Yeah, yes! The way you touch my nipples feels so good," your words come out, exhaled in pure relief, and it is a relief.

You needed his hands on your body, kneading plush skin and making you feel oh-so-good. Alex beckons you away from the door, lifting you up by your hips to seat you on the counter's edge. You're closer to his height now, and there's a brief moment of sweetness as you reconnect by standing flush against each other. He's fully hard now, desperate for you.

"I need you so bad, fuck," he sighs pleasedly.

Manicured hands unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, soaking in golden-tanned skin that gleams under the bathroom lights. Alex catches the sight of the two of you in the mirror, and his thighs shake with the empathetic rush of pleasure that courses through him just seeing the state of you two. Messy hair, make-up smudged, clothes absolutely and unmistakably disheveled. 

Neither of you could wait any longer, "wanna fuck you from behind. Turn around for me, please?"

Once you're entirely on display, you have a front-row view in the mirror as his hands glide over the curve in your lower back before reaching your cheeks and spreading them. Your creamy hole is fully on display, and Alex shushes you when you whine, "Don't stareee."

"Hush, just be patient for a second," he doesn't even take his eyes off your pussy, "I can't appreciate my girlfriend?"

You want to bite back sassily, but then the head of his dick catches on your clit, leaving your jaw-dropping in a dramatic display. The man behind you chuckles lightly, gliding the tip between your sticky folds to thoroughly coat his cock in your wetness, "what was that?"

"N-Nothing, just hurry up!"

Biting your lip, you try to jerk your hips back, but Alex's hand keeps your lower back firmly pinned to the counter, "I've been daydreaming about this since you got ready."

Alex gives you no chance to try and speak, plunging the tip in your pussy and stretching your thick walls. You know he's barely inside you, barely begun to dick you down. Still, you're already gutturally moaning, "Fuuuck… yes, lex–mmf!"

He gives you time to adjust, shallowly thrusting his hips with a hand on your hips. You're already trying to suck him in, and he's barely a few inches inside! It's heaven, and you can see the way his black hair cascades in his face as he slowly bullies his fat cock into you.

"God, fuck! You're taking me so well; this pussy is squeezing me so tight," he groans, eyes locking onto yours in the mirror as he starts to thrust earnestly, "Oh fuck yeah, take my cock, baby."

There's a loud 'pap' that echoes through the room as Alex works his hips into yours, steadily burying his cock deep into your folds and dicking you down expertly. The room grows hot and heady, the scent of sex permeating the air as Alex skillfully pounds you against the counter, "Talk to me, baby. Actually–fuuck. Look at me, babe."

Your hand grips the counter fiercely, but you can still look up to watch as Alex drags his dick through your walls over and over, "Filling me up so good–wanna cum so bad. I wanna be good–oh! Uh-huh, 'jus wanna be good for you."

Alex feels his balls constrict as you tighten around him, feet on tip-toes as you draw closer and closer to your orgasm. 

"Cum all over me, babe. Let me make you feel good, fuck yes. Just like that, honey."

All you can do is hold on as each thrust winds you up closer and closer until stars are bursting behind your eyelids. You cum with a cry of Alex's name, legs shaking as your pussy creams till there's a white ring around the base of his cock. The feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his dick and your words as you cry, "shit, Alex! Make me cum, oh god. I-I'm yours, fuuuck!"

He cums with a loud groan, hips slapping against your hips once, then twice as you feel him spurt his load against your pink inner walls. Your fluids mix together, spilling out of your hole and leaking down your thigh. The both of you fade in and out of existence, the power of your shared release leaving the two of you reeling as his cock softens inside you.

Your man stays inside of you until your breaths have calmed and come to a slow. He gently works his cock out of you, slowly pulling out as you hiss, "Shh, just stay here, babe. Let me get a towel."

"What time is it?"

A gentle hand comes between your legs to wipe up any excess mess. You jump as he swipes over your clit, an action that Alex giggles at.

"Definitely time to go."

The two of you stand side by side in the mirror, horrified. 

"My hair!"

"My dress! You totally screwed it all up!"

"Nuh-uh, that was all you, babe! Do you think everyone's gonna know?"

You would've said yes and promised that no one would know a single thing. But your eyes zero in on his lips' red, swollen state. The way his shirt is unbuttoned just enough to spot a red mark carding down his chest.

"Oh, babe… absolutely."

Alex whines, but you feel delighted.

[stayinlimbo]

Hoodie Season

pairing: lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to friends with feelings(?), fluff, subtle realization of feelings(?), or maybe they've been there all along, pitiful attempts at me trying to be funny, mc has hair long enough to be blown in their face, mc's gender not specified word count: 1.13k note: this has been torturing me for months. i really tried my best here, so go easy on me ♡

“Yes.”

“No.”

"We have this conversation every time. Yes.”

“No, and that’s because you won’t admit that you’re wrong,” you huff, biting back the urge to stick your tongue out at your best friend. You refuse to stoop down to his level.

“Because I’m not? Just accept it, zip-ups are better,” Minho shrugs, lightly bumping his shoulder into yours. Or at least what he thinks is lightly before he watches you stumble onto the strip of grass next to the sidewalk and almost hit a tree. 

Catching yourself, you whip your head back towards public energy #1 and glare at the sheepish smile he gives in return as the two of you continue walking past a row of quaint shops lining the vacant street. To where, you have no clue. You don’t even think he knows. Minho just texted you to be ready in ten minutes and wear something warm for another Saturday afternoon of following wherever your best friend’s feet decide to take you. 

But let’s not forget the very important topic at hand. 

“Hoodies are superior and I will not entertain any other viewpoint,” you declare, fiddling with your warm and comfortable and warm, and, oh, did you already mention warm hoodie’s drawstrings.

“What happened to your goal of being a more open-minded person this year?”

“That’s besides the point. This is entirely different,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. The chilled wind nips at your fingers before you bury them deep into the front pocket of your hoodie. 

“Sure it is,” Minho drawls with a quirk of his lips, ignoring the not-so-subtle side eye you throw at him. “Okay, I’ll humor you this time then. Why are hoodies, in your misguided judgment, so much better?” 

“Hey— okay you know what, I’m going to let that slide this time to save your from further embarrassment while I destroy your—”

“Boo, get on with it already.”

“Don’t rush me,” you scold as Minho raises his hands in a playful surrender. “Thank you. Now, as I was saying —look at me, this is serious— hoodies are an easily available and affordable luxury item; pull them over your head and bam, instant warmth.”

“How is that any different from zipping up a jacket?” Minho deapans. “You’re not very convincing, you know that right? And what if I don’t want to look disheveled with messy hair?”

“Is that supposed to be directed at me?” you ask with a laugh, hair blowing into your face. 

Minho’s smile returns. “You said it, I didn’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you continue. “I’m strong enough to admit that hoodies may be a cause for bad hair days but they’re so soft and comfortable that it’s worth it. Not to mention they’re more flattering too. Just look at me.”

“You look like you got swallowed by a fabric monster that decided you weren’t tasty enough to finish eating,” Minho teases, eyes twinkling with amusement as they scan over your heavily clothed figure. 

Okay, he’s got you there with…whatever that comparison means, but it’s not your fault you just so happened to grab the baggiest hoodie you own before rushing out the door. You can’t even think of a comeback before he’s already moving on to his next question.

“What’s wrong with how zip-ups fit anyway? I think I look fine,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You can’t argue with that one either. Fine is an understatement. The black zip-up he’s wearing compliments his physique perfectly, the not too tight or loose fabric accentuating the strong-build of his upper body. Ugh, he’s really not helping you make your case here. 

“You’re an exception,” you admit with a slight shrug of your shoulders, averting your gaze upwards as the rustling leaves above begin to fall on you both. 

Minho’s hand suddenly grabs your shoulder, halting your footsteps and causing you to look back at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. Heat rushes to your cheeks as he steps closer to you, wordlessly lifting his hand from your shoulder in favor of gently plucking out a couple of stray leaves stuck in your hair and lifting your hood over your head, shielding you further from the crisp air. 

“There, now what were you saying about me being so good-looking that I defy your zip-up expectations?” Minho chuckles, letting his hand drop back to his side. 

Your face flushes even harder. At this point, you’re not even going to need a hoodie anymore with how hot your body feels. 

“Uh, calm down, I never said that.” you defend hurriedly. ”You’re lucky I have my hands in my pocket or else you’d be the one falling on the grass.”

“Leaves you vulnerable, though.”

“Huh? What do you mea— MINHO!”

Your vision becomes blocked when Minho swiftly tugs your drawstrings, leaving only a small oval of skin exposed to the biting wind. His uncontrollable laughter dances through the air around you as you attempt to pry the hood back open, increasing in intensity when it takes you an embarrassingly longer time than it should to reveal your eyes to the world again. 

“Oh, you think that was so funny, huh?” you interrogate, glaring at his hunched over figure.

Minho stands back upright, wiping at an invisible tear. “Yeah.” 

The cheeky grin he wears slightly falters as you stalk a couple of steps forward, bringing your face closer than you ever have to his. Softer pinks hues begin to color his ears and cheeks, likely from the cold wind or his laughter, you think. 

His gaze softens as it trails down to where your hand is carefully lifting up towards his chest, finally resting flat right above the opening of his zip-up hoodie, the proximity causing a flutter in your chest. The wind begins to pick up slightly, blowing your hair into your face again. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face and tuck behind your ear, fingers delicately lingering as he opens his mouth.

“I–” he starts.

Zippppp. 

The polar breeze hits his undershirt as an involuntary shiver runs throughout his body. Your laughter rings happily in his ears, the bright sound floating in the air as it is carried by the wind. 

You pull yourself away from him, backpedaling when he sends you a faux frown threatening to break as his lips try to fight the smile blooming across his features and already residing in his eyes. Giggles escape the both of you when he takes a step forward, rezipping his jacket, before breaking into a run as your shrieking laughter and his lighthearted swears fill the empty street, footsteps echoing on the pavement.

Looks like this time, he’ll be following you. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist:  @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

@feelikecinderella

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Oh, The Power Of An Undercover Mission - Shōta Aizawa X GN Reader

Title: Oh, The Power Of An Undercover Mission

Shōta Aizawa X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Nezu, Toshinori Yagi (Mentioned), Hizashi Yamada (Mentioned), Oboro (Mentioned), and the LOV (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 7,370

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, cursing, yelling, Reader has an unspecified quirk, banter, teasing, bickering, undercover newlyweds mission, Aizawa being himself, alcohol, nicknames, small bit of jealousy, confession, angst, and fluffy ending

"Mind my language, but what the hell, Nez!?" You exclaimed, eyes widening at your long-time friend's words, "You can not be serious! I- I can't work with him, and you know that." You insisted, "There’s a reason why you have my class in a whole separate section of the building."

Principle Nezu just gave you a grin, sipping his tea, "I understand completely that you believe that he is unfit to be your partner in this mission." He spoke, setting down his white teacup. You inwardly sighed. It wasn’t that you thought he was unfit to be your partner, you just didn’t want to work with him. "But you and Aizawa's quirks are so well matched that I think it would be beneficial for you two to work together. Though I doubt you’d need to use them." Nezu finished simply.

"I know that, but I can not work with him," You insisted, waving your arms about wildly as you felt a wave of panic and anxiety rush through you, "He's- He's stoic and apathetic-"

Nezu raised a finger to silence you, "Please, Y/N." He pleaded, "I have known you for long enough. I have watched you grow into an incredible person as a student and now teacher both intellectually, but also emotionally. I believe that you are absolutely capable of being within his presence for less than twenty-four hours. It is just one mission. You’ll be going your separate ways before you know it." Leaning back in his chair, he grinned, "I know that things will be tough for the both of you, but I know that you'll come back from the mission with the important information that we need."

You let out a sigh through your nose, running your hands through your hair before nodding hesitantly; reluctantly. "I understand, but Nez, please answer me this... How come it has to be Aizawa - aside from how well our quirks complement each other... Could there have been anyone else? I mean, there has to be somebody..."

"Why yes, there was one other option, someone whose quirk would’ve perfectly complimented your own." Nezu answered, "But, unfortunately, we lost them a long time ago..." Principle Nezu's voice then lowered, "You may know of whom I speak of."

Shutting your eyes, you nod once, dropping your head; your hands landing on your hips, "Yes, I do." You muttered before clearing your throat, "Have you told Aizawa about this arrangement yet?"

Nezu’s almost haunted expression turned into a bright smile at your question, "Nope! I thought you would like to tell him! I have papers to look at now. You leave tonight!" He spoke eccentrically, slipping off of his chair with a folder in hand. Handing you the said folder, he began to push you out of his office before giving you one last smile and shutting the door.

Letting out a deep huff, you looked down at the folder in front of you, "Let's get this over with."

Gaining the courage, you began walking down the school's halls, heading towards Aizawa’s class; reading as much as you could as you walked. He was sure to be in a class at the moment, but you wanted to get this over with as soon as humanly possible. Stopping just near the door of his classroom, you brushed your hair back, trying to look presentable and not like you had just had a small panic attack in the principal's office.

Letting out a small breath, you raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound reverberating off the empty hall walls. You waited for a moment - the murmuring of his students inside the classroom silencing - looking down at the ground at your shoes, the door opened with a small creek. Looking up, you cleared your throat, handing him the folder.

“Aizawa,” You greeted lightly as Aizawa stared at you with his tired, crimson eyes, raising an eyebrow before taking the folder from your hand. 

“L/N…” He quietly flipped the folder open as you stuffed your hands in your pants pockets, looking anywhere but at him; finding the odd, discolored spot on the wall opposite of you very interesting. This was already awkward enough.

"A mission?" He asked simply, his deep voice startling you slightly as you spun your head around to nod.

"Uh, yeah. Nezu said that it was important. It’s for tonight... It's going to be a gathering... Ah, uh, a party, with some of the smaller villains." You answered, "He said it'd take less than twenty-four hours to find out what the League is going to be targeting next."

Aizawa hummed, staring down at the folder's information. "I can do this alone."

Dropping your jaw, you stared up at him in shock, "No way! You'll stick out like a sore thumb! We have to go together."

"I can get it done alone." He insisted, glancing up at you and giving you a hard stare, "I don't need your help."

"Whether you like it or not, I have to go. I don't want this any more than you do." You stated plainly, crossing your arms against your chest. Aizawa continued to glare at you, clenching one of his fists tightly for a second before letting out an irritated sigh.

"Try not to mess this up." He replied gruffly, closing his folder once more.

Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed softly, "Like I could mess anything up." You said, grabbing the folder from him, "Meet me in my office once you're done with class, please."

Without waiting for a response, you turned and stalked away, feeling a small bit of relief once you were out of sight of him. Turning the corner, and down another hall, you enter your office. Sighing, you leaned against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on the ground, legs coming up to your chest. Shutting your eyes, you softly leaned your head back against your door. 

How were you going to survive this?

~~~

Ever since you were both in UA as students, you and Aizawa have always been at each other's throats. Well... That all wasn't all true. In fact, you really liked him. Even if he was a little cold and emotionless most of the time; possibly a bit socially awkward. You knew that there was something deeper beneath his facade, though. Your gut instinct was telling you that you needed to get closer to him. But after three years of trying to befriend him, he still didn't trust you. He didn’t really speak to you, or much of anything else... And you certainly weren't going to force him to be friends with you if he didn’t want to be. So you stopped trying.

It wasn't until you had risen above his grades in your last year at UA that the real war began. Finally, after years, you accidently got a reaction out of him. For that last year, Aizawa was insistent on getting better marks than you, beating you at all the training, sparring, and making you lose sleep and energy constantly with worry and stress, which resulted in him finally winning in the end.

So, that initial interest and curiosity that you had towards him, turned into pure irritation. The feeling was mutual. He seemed to have hated you for beating him so easily, and on some many different occasions. But, years later, you were both adults. You were a Pro Hero, and a damn good one. And so was he. But it was very hard to just let bygones be bygones. Especially when interacting with each other, it felt like you were both back to being students in UA; determined and stubborn. 

~~~

It wasn't long until you heard a knock on your office door, making you look up from the papers that you were grading. "Enter." You called out, watching as Aizawa opened the door and entered the room, folder in hand. "What's your plan, then?" You asked, pushing the rest of the papers to the side. You knew better than to think that he’d allow you to take charge of the mission. No matter how much you wanted to take that leadership role, you didn’t want a fight to break out. The faster you and he worked this out, the faster the mission will be.

"It starts at five," He began, placing the folder on your desk as he surveyed your office, "We will have to take your car... It's about a thirty-minute drive from here."

"Well, that's not a problem for me." You replied, standing up from your chair, and walking around the desk, "What's our alibi?"

"Did you even read the paperwork?" He then asked, sounding a bit annoyed as he turned around, leaning against your desk.

You sputtered slightly, whipping your head around to stare at him beside you, "Of course, I did!" You lied, "I just didn't know the plan, codenames, etcetera..." You trailed off, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. “Honestly, I don’t even think we’ll need codenames or anything. We’re basically just listening in on people’s conversations.”

Aizawa sighed, ignoring your last comments, "We're newlyweds. And this is our first-anniversary celebration."

You nearly choked on your spit, "I'm sorry- We're what?!" You asked incredulously, looking at him, your eyes were wide as he kept his usual bored - annoyed - expression.

"You heard me." He spoke, turning and opening the folder, pointing at a section of a page, "The only way we'd get into the event is being a couple or else-"

"Or else we'd look suspicious... I get it." You grumbled, leaning against your desk beside him, crossing your arms as you looked over his shoulder to get a better look at the papers. Being so close to him, you could smell hints of vanilla wafting from him. You never expected him to smell like vanilla… ‘I like vanilla. And was that sandalwood?’ You suddenly felt slightly frustrated with yourself, brushing those thoughts away; unblurring your eyes as you rapidly blinked them. ‘Get your head in the game, Y/N.’ "Where is this taking place again?"

"At the Natsukashii Plaza Hotel."

"Ah, fancy..." You mumbled, reading the names of some of the people that would be there. You recognized a few lesser-known villains and other criminals. There would be a lot of powerful people in one room... It was a slightly risky mission, and the only way for this to work would be for you to keep calm and collected. Which was usually easy for you to do, but you were a bit worried since this was a large environment, and you’d have to work closely with someone that hated you. Narrowing your eyes on a page, you scoffed, "Those are our codenames?"

"I wasn't the one who came up with them." Aizawa stated, not even glancing up at you, "It is not my fault you don't like the name."

You gave him a look, “I’m not saying it is,” He didn't reply, closing the folder and setting it back onto your desk.

"I'll pick you up at four-thirty."

You blinked. "What?" You turned to look over at him as he pushed himself off of leaning on your desk beside you.

"I said-" His hardened glare narrowed down at you.

"No, I know what you said." You cut him off, uncrossing your arms as you waved a dismissive hand in the air, "Just- What? Am I supposed to dress in something nice, then?"

Turning to make his way to your office door, he answered, "You do know what a formal event is, correct?"

"Yes, of course, I do." You spat back, narrowing your eyes as you stared at the back of his head, "I just have a few more questions."

"Which are..?" He asked, turning to face you fully, the same expression on his face. 

Oh, how you wished you could just do the mission on your own, but Nezu said it was an important mission, and you understood that Aizawa’s quirk matched well with yours. You understood that, and knew that, all throughout your own schooling at UA. But he frustrated you beyond belief. Why couldn't he just be nice to you?

Eyes flickering across the floor, you raised a hand, running it through your hair once more; tugging slightly at the roots, "Do we have an exit strategy? Who do we try to speak to, to get the information that we need? Or do we just try to overhear conversations?"

"We can figure that out on the way." He answered plainly, making you huff.

"What if there's an emergency, then?" You tried to ask, only for him to turn away from you once again, his hand grabbing your office door knob.

"You've been on missions before, L/N, this one is no different." He stated before leaving without another word.

You huffed again, rolling your eyes before pushing yourself off of the desk and walking around it. Sitting down, you stared at the yellow folder on your desk, closed and waiting for you to reopen it. Resting your elbows on your desk, you rubbed your tired eyelids with the palms of your hands. breathing out a deep sigh, you dropped your hands and looked to your left side, glancing at the clock. 

After work would be a good time to find something suitable to wear for this mission, you decided. You tried to push the thoughts of Aizawa out of your head, but it was difficult. Every single time you thought of the man you got this weird fluttering sensation in your stomach that almost made you want to throw up. He frustrated you to no end. And somehow, someway, you felt drawn to him still. Even after all these years of wanting and needing to hate him, you still found yourself- No, no... You shook your head. You do hate him. He was rude to you, no matter how many times you tried to play nice and be kind to him, he was still rude to you. He didn't deserve to spend so much time in your head and heart.

But he did.

You needed to get back to work, you had things to do, and you only had a couple more hours left in the school day before you had to get ready for this mission. So, you really needed to get your students' papers graded.

~~~

The tick-tocking of the clock on your living room wall was beginning to irritate you. It was coming up to four-fifteen, and you were beyond anxious. You sat on your couch, your leg bouncing like crazy, dressed pretty nice enough for a party of this stature. Aside from your attire, you had done everything else you needed to do to get ready; hair and so on. You looked amazing and you knew that. But every second spent sitting and waiting for him was torture. You didn’t know why you both had to use your car, or why Aizawa couldn’t have just picked you up in his car.

You knew that this whole 'pretending to be newlyweds' thing was going to be difficult - your mental health was already shot to hell; there was too much on your plate as it is. How could you possibly pretend to be happy and all lovey-dovey with him when your real-life relationship with him was anything but? You have done many missions before - more than you could count, but none of them had you pretending to be a couple with anyone. And with Aizawa of all people... 

Your mind began to wander... You'd have to hold hands, link arms... What if you had to kiss? You didn't possibly think that that would have to happen, but it made your skin buzz and your heart race at just the thought. The thought of Aizawa actually liking you, the thought of him actually caring about you... Well, it scared you, and saddened you. You had tried so hard to push down any feelings you had for him down into the depths of your very soul, that you were worried that any sort of fake affection Aizawa gives you, or any sort of physical contact, would bring back those feelings, and break you entirely.

You shook your head, trying to stop yourself from having such thoughts, your heart still racing, and your hands beginning to feel slightly clammy, you clenched your fists; feeling your quirk rushing through you as you tried to calm yourself down, only for you to hear a knock at your door. You snapped your eyes from your clenched hands to the door, and you reluctantly stood.

Your steps felt heavy as you walked over to your front door, taking a short peek through the peephole. There he stood, his form distorted from the peephole lens. You let out a deep sigh, shutting your eyes and taking in a deep breath before gaining the courage and opening the door. 

Aizawa stuffed his hands into the pockets of his all-black suit, his eyes staring tiredly at the potted windowsill planter filled with different types of flowers - of yellow and red hues. His shoulders were slouched, ever-so-slightly, his body feeling as tired as his eyes did. He tried to take a small nap - during class - and before walking over to pick you up, but his mind was so busy that it was difficult to even get a couple of minutes of sleep. 

Hearing the door open, Aizawa pulled his red eyes from your flowers, letting them fall on you. He took in your attire, presentable enough for a party such as the one that you were - sort of forced - to attend.

Aizawa's chest tightened slightly as he cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" He spoke up, irritation laced his words and you nodded. 

"Of course," You muttered, a small frown on your face, "Are you driving or am I?" You asked as you shut the door behind you, dangling the keys from your fingers, and making Aizawa huff out a sigh. You took in his own attire as you waited for him to answer, taking note of his all-black suit, and even the way he pulled his hair up in a small ponytail; you took the chance to finally see his face that was usually mostly covered by the black mop he called his hair. Overall, the outfit looked perfect for the night. You bit your lip. "You look..." You started, stopping yourself from saying handsome. You swallowed your pride and continued, "You look nice." Nope, still awkward.

Aizawa stared at you, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a wave of surprise filter through his eyes; his eyes widening slightly, but enough for you to notice. "You can drive. I'm tired." He then said, completely ignoring your compliment, and you pursed your lips.

Nodding your head and moving around him, you stepped down the small set of stairs down to the sidewalk. "As you always are," You muttered, not that it was his fault that he was tired all the time, you knew that it was a major drawback from his quirk. Unlocking your car with a small click of your keys, you continued, "I hope you can get some sleep before we get there." You slid into the driver's seat, Aizawa following and slipping into the passenger seat. "I don't want you falling asleep on the job." You finished, sounding slightly concerned as you started your car's engine. 

~~~

"We're here," You spoke as you pulled up to an empty parking spot at the hotel. Shutting off the engine, you turned to look over at Aizawa, seeing him asleep. Your shoulders drooped as you watched Aizawa's chest rise and fall slowly, his mouth slightly open, the bags under his eyes seemed darker than usual, and his hair that wasn't tied; hung loosely against his forehead as the side of his head pressed against the chilled window. He seemed so at peace, and you almost felt terrible waking him, but you both had a job to do. Raising your hand, you hesitated slightly before gently nudging his shoulder, and from just your slight touch, he jolted awake. You pulled your hand back in surprise, watching as Aizawa blinked his still-tired eyes, looking out the front windshield. "We're here," You repeated, in a slightly softer tone.

Aizawa said nothing, nodding, unbuckling himself. Opening his suit jacket, he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a silver band. A ring. You blinked, eyes widening as Aizawa silently handed the ring to you before he pulled out a similar one and slid it on his own ring finger. You dropped your gaze to the ring lying on the palm of your hand. Clearing your throat, you got over the initial shock and slid the ring on your finger. Staring at your hand, with the ring, you felt something inside your chest begin to tighten.

Opening your car door, you climbed out, closing the door and locking it before turning to see Aizawa standing in front of your car. You didn't even notice him get out of your car. You met his eyes, which held a mixture of confusion and annoyance, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

"We don’t have all night." He finally spoke up, before offering his arm out to you.

You rolled your eyes slightly, looping your arm around his, and placing your other hand on your hand; locking yourself onto his arm and allowing him to lead you to the hotel entrance where the party would be held.

Immediately as you stepped into the large room, you entered the lion's den. You quickly scanned your surroundings and you were surprised that you actually recognized some of the lesser-known villains who were all chatting; sipping champagne, and seemingly having a grand ol' time.

It surprised you even more that how easy it was for you and Aizawa to even enter the main part of the hotel plaza where the event was taking place. It irked you how sure these villains were that no heroes would try to enter. There weren't even any guards... You had to hold back a smirk and scoff; these villains must have been very confident. But then again, most of their power came from their quirks, and they could easily use their quirks to overpower you. But you highly doubted that they could. 

As Nezu had said, and what you have always known, you and Aizawa were a very powerful duo. The combination of both of your quirks was simply too powerful to go against. Maybe not as powerful as Toshinori, but still. If the two of you worked together, the odds were stacked in your favor. Plus, you were smart enough to know that there were three separate entrances to the venue. So just in case anything were to happen - which you hoped wouldn't - you and Aizawa could easily escape if need be. 

You looked over at Aizawa, who watched the large room carefully with his own eyes. His whole body seemed tense as he surveyed, and took in every detail. You dropped your gaze, your ears taking in the music playing; hearing it echoing beautifully throughout the room. Your eyes lifted from the marble floor to the dancing villains. They were dancing wildly, twirling and spinning, moving faster and faster until they became blurs to you; matching the upbeat orchestra perfectly. You couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight.

With a short tug, you looked up at Aizawa, who looked down at you with an eyebrow raised. He gestured to the dancefloor with his eyes, his frown deepened. "No.” He simply said.

“We should.” You stated, raising your own eyebrow.

"We are not dancing." He stated firmly.

"I think we are," You insisted stubbornly, "It would help us, wouldn't it? Blend in? We’re sitting ducks."

Aizawa stared at you, narrowing his eyes slightly before nodding. Without another word, he began to lead you to the dance floor. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach swarming, and the feeling only intensified as Aizawa wrapped his arm around your waist. You watched with bated breath as he took your hand, your free hand automatically coming up to rest on his shoulder. Quickly, you became very impressed - and shocked - as Aizawa began to lead you into a waltz. His usual tense posture settled, his eyes never leaving yours.

His movements were as smooth as ever; the sound of your shoes on the cold, hard floor, and the beat of the music resonating within the room echoed around you. The music, while slow-paced, carried a sense of energy, yet at the same time, it was leisurely and soothing. You almost found this scenario romantic. You couldn't find words, your eyes just staring up into his scarlet eyes.. And you couldn't look away. 

And for a moment, in the slightest of moments, you forgot all about the people milling around you and the noise. You forgot about the mission, and the years of bickering back and forth. You forgot about everything, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his skin on yours and the way his eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. Your mind became clouded with thoughts; thinking about when you first met, remembering him all those years ago, and about your feelings. So quiet, so handsome, so intelligent he was, and more so to this day. His hair still looked so soft, even back then, it had been shorter too; you remembered. Your eyes found themselves admiring the dark locks of his hair. Your hand on his shoulder twitched at the thought of running your fingers through it. Your heart pounded against your ribcage; your breath hitched. Those feelings, though hidden for years, were resurfacing; and resurfacing fast.

Before you knew it, you were quickly snapped out of your head, your ears picking up on a conversation. You strained your ears, turning your head just slightly to catch a glimpse of the couple that were dancing only a couple of feet from you. You did not know them, the man and woman, but they were talking about the League Of Villains. 

"-they're going to attack some hospital." You heard from the man, glancing up at Aizawa to see if he was hearing the same thing as you, and with the slight change in his eyes, you knew he was.

"To get All-Might to show, I am sure." The woman chuckled wickedly, making you inwardly sigh. 

Raising an eyebrow towards Aizawa, he only silently huffed in response before the man spoke up again, "Wasn't your mother recently discharged from that hospital?"

"Oh, yes," The woman nodded as she spoke, "I'm glad she won't be there Thursday when they come."

As the song came to an end, Aizawa was more than happy to lead you out and away from the dancefloor, finding a spot near the bar. Leaning against the back of the bar, you turned slightly to wave down the bartender.

"You're drinking?" Aizawa asked, and you nodded, as the bartender walked over; allowing you to order your drink.

"I trust you with driving me home," You spoke simply, as the bartender went to make your drink. "So," You began, looking up at him, arms crossed, "What do you think, husband?" The word felt foreign on your tongue, but almost felt too easy to say out loud.

"You know what I think," Aizawa muttered, eyeing the bartender as he made your drink, narrowing his eyes at the glass of liquor as he slid it to you. It wasn't poisoned, thankfully... Hopefully. 

You took the drink in your hand, swirling the liquid around in the glass, you pursed your lips, "I do," In the silence, you felt the back of your neck itch as a tense, uncomfortable atmosphere filled the air between you and Aizawa. You didn't know why - well, you did - but you found yourself staring at him. You cleared your throat quietly, looking back down at your drink, your mouth opening but Aizawa quickly spoke up.

"You look nice..." He commented bluntly, repeating your words from when he came to pick you up, quickly catching you by surprise. You blinked owlishly, unsure how to respond to his sudden compliment, and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Feeling your face flush, you shook your head slightly, biting your lip.

"And you look exhausted," You laughed out, looking back up at him with a smile.

"Why, thank you-" He cut himself off before rolling his eyes. Although his tone sounded sarcastic, the faint smile that stretched across his lips gave away the fact that he was amused by your remark - at least somewhat. "I'm fine, though," He added after a moment of awkward silence passed between you. And at that small glimpse of his smile, you felt that fluttering feeling in your chest once again. God, why did it have to be like this?

"I'm going to mingle, see if I can find anything else out," You spoke up in a soft mutter only he could hear after taking one sip from your drink, and setting it down on the bartop, "You'll be alright without me, right, dearest?" You asked, shifting your weight slightly as you tilted your head.

He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes slightly before nodding. "Of course, love," He responded, and that made you pause. Looking up at him, you blinked before you got yourself together and gave him a small - almost shy and nervous - smile, walking into the crowd.

Aizawa watched you go, eyeing all the villains as you passed them. Dropping his gaze from you, he eyed your drink. You had hardly taken even a sip, the soft pink colored drink just sitting there out in the open. Aizawa moved his hand against the bartop, pausing just at your drink before he slid the drink further from his and yours spot. The bartender then took the drink away, giving Aizawa a nod before he began to help the others at the bar. Eyeing some of the people that also stood at the bar, Aizawa tried to listen in on anything, but with no such luck. No one else had been talking about the League’s evil plans. 

He sighed, becoming bored, his eyes finally moving to find you, spotting you conversing with someone. That someone, Aizawa knew - who was obviously some sort of villain - was making you laugh. Whatever he said made your smile widen and that melodic laughter filled the room; sending chills down Aizawa's spine. Even through the music playing he could recognize and hear your voice clearly. 

Aizawa hadn't even realized that he was staring. His dark red eyes glaring holes into the side of the villain's head. He didn't know who the lesser-known villain was, and he didn't care to find out. All Aizawa knew was that he didn't like how close he was to you. Forcing himself to look away, he allowed himself to look anywhere else but at you. 

Aizawa had known you for years, having gone to UA with you. He remembered you to be friendly - kind to everyone - and very skilled at fighting and mastering your quite powerful quirk. In the very beginning, Aizawa found you slightly annoying, always bright and sunny. And for some odd reason, you really wanted to be friends with him. But, that annoyance slowly became something different. Something he hadn't noticed. Something he didn't want to notice. Something he wanted to fight tooth and nail to prevent, even if he knew it wasn't possible. He knew he shouldn't be feeling these things; these emotions. Feelings were dangerous. They caused trouble. They led to bad decisions. They led to regret. And all Aizawa wanted to do was study hard, work hard, and get on with life. So, like most emotions - that wasn't annoyance, boredom, and exhaustion - he tucked them away.

Then came the last year of UA, you had stopped trying to befriend him. Seeing that you were getting nowhere with him, and he did have to admit that he wasn’t the… Nicest when speaking to you. But suddenly you were getting better grades than him. This incident - playfully called 'the war' by Hizashi - began. You had gotten better marks than Aizawa, and he quickly became insistent on beating you. He knew he shouldn't care, and that in the end, it didn't at all matter who was on top, but he couldn't help it. He tried to push you down, studying harder each night. Training with Toshinori and Hizashi whenever he could. But you were stronger than you showed to everyone else, stronger than you showed even to yourself. 

At some point in the last year, your teachers stopped pairing the two of you against each other for training. Aizawa and your quirks, when used together, created an almost deadly combination - both powerful and destructive. Training usually ended up with the both of you in the medical wing after a draw. 

"Hey, are you ready to go? I couldn’t find anything.” You muttered that last part. 

Aizawa turned his head from staring blankly at a wall, his tired eyes meeting yours. "Hmm?" He hummed, making your small smile drop, and your eyebrows to furrow.

"Are you alright?" You asked, only for Aizawa to nod stiffly, his hand quickly taking yours before leading you out of the hotel.

You followed, almost tripping at times with how quickly he was moving, and - somehow - not bringing any attention to the both of you. These smaller villains really were dimwitted. You looked up at Aizawa, watching the side of his face. His lips were turned into a deep frown, his eyes half-lidded, tired, and seemingly irritated as usual. You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him before turning to watch in front of you. Aizawa was back to his usual, cold self; you were sure.

Stopping at your car, Aizawa dropped your hand as quickly as he grabbed it, and funnily enough, you missed his warmth. Without even looking at you, he held out his hand, palm up, and with a scoff, you dropped your keys into his awaiting hand. You silently slipped into the passenger seat of your car, buckling and crossing your arms. The drive home was tense, and it felt hard to swallow. You didn't dare to look at him while the both of you sat next to each other in complete silence.

You finally glanced over at him when you reached your home and he parked the car. His hands held onto the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes stared ahead, the same cold expression on his face. You were confused, and a bit frustrated. You had thought that maybe he was beginning to like you when you were at that party. He joked with you, he even smiled at you, but as quickly as you thought that you made some sort of progress in getting to know him - even just slightly - he was right back to his old self. He was just like before, cold and distant - and you wanted answers.

"Why do you hate me?" You suddenly asked, and Aizawa turned his head to meet your gaze. There was no response. Instead, he merely continued to stare right at you with those red eyes. How his cold, unfeeling expression never changed. The look in those eyes was unnerving. It unsettled you; it made you feel weak - for the first time in forever - like you were nothing to the Underground Hero. 

He looked away from you, and you could basically see the gears turning in his head before he spoke, "I don't hate you."

You sighed deeply, rubbing your temples before pinching the bridge of your nose. "You have a funny way of showing it." You shot back.

"I don't hate you," He repeated, his tone firmer now. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning back against your car's leather seat and closing your eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. You opened your eyes again when you heard him shift uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't hate you at all."

"Then why do you act all..." You trailed off, waving your hand in the air slightly as you tried to find the right words to say, "Act all rude and grumpy to me?" You finished your sentence softly, "I mean, I thought that we were doing okay. You weren’t acting all grumpy when we were at the party. You even smiled. And then you just switch on me. And you’re back to your stoic attitude. I don't think I did anything to you to deserve that. Did I do something wrong? Have I done anything to offend you?"

"No," He muttered quietly, glancing over at you before returning his eyes to the road, dropping his hands from the wheel. "No, you didn't," He agreed. 

"Well then, what is it?" You demanded, your voice still soft, but still holding hints of frustration. You weren't about to let this opportunity slip through your fingers. Not again. 

Aizawa pursed his lips, taking in a deep breath before looking at you. And he surprised you with the expression on his face. Soft... Not cold, nor angry, but warm... Almost tender. You bit down on your bottom lip, forcing yourself not to look away, and you were more than sure that your eyes were beginning to trick you. Because you were sure that you saw his eyes flicker from yours to your lips and back. No, you thought. It's just your mind playing tricks on you. Nothing more.

"It's just..." He started, pausing as he pulled his hair out from the ponytail, and running a hand through his hair; sighing heavily. "Why are you so desperate to get to know me?"

"What?" Was all that left your mouth. That was not what you were expecting him to say at all. 

Aizawa began to internally panic, shaking his head as he went to grab the car's door handle, "Nevermind. I'll see you at UA."

Eyes widening, you shook your own head, "Wait, Shōta" You reached out for him, your hand coming to rest on his arm. "Please, can we just talk? And please, don’t shut me out."

At the sound of his name coming from your lips, Aizawa froze. Slowly lowering his hand, he took a deep breath before glancing towards you. He could feel his heart begin to race and his cheeks heat up, and he hated it. This feeling was something that he was not used to and one that he tried to avoid. But as you stared at him, your eyes wide with worry, a small frown on your lips, Aizawa felt himself grow nervous. Shutting his eyes, he felt a buzzing sensation rush over him, making his skin itch. He held back a yawn, his eyes feeling so incredibly tired, and as he opened them again, he knew there was no way out of this.

"I never could hate you, Y/N." He began as he moved his gaze back to you; his gaze determined, "Even when we were students, I began to… Admire you." His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry, and he cleared his throat. "I always admired your courage, your determination, and your will to win. I always respected your intelligence and your kindness - not to mention you're a great teacher." He paused again. Your hand slid from his arm, and Aizawa wished - prayed - that the world would just swallow him up. He was not good at feelings, or expressing them, especially to someone like you. You, the one that tried so hard to befriend him all those years ago, yet he pushed away. You, the one that always managed to pull him right back. You were like an ocean wave, crashing against the sandy shore, pulling him back into your deep blue sea. 

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard your laugh. His face began to burn as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and slight hurt; were you laughing at him, or was he thinking too much? He couldn't tell. But, as you laughed, your hand covering your mouth, he couldn't help but stare as the lights from the street lamps danced across your beautiful face, illuminating every feature. Your eyes crinkled as your cheeks dimpled, your hair falling forward and hiding your face from view. You were stunning, as always.

Your soft laughter subsided, and you brushed your hair out of your face, looking up at Aizawa with a look that he wished he could capture and keep forever. Maybe, just maybe, you weren't going to reject him after all. Maybe you weren’t laughing at him. He felt his heart beating quicker and faster, and as he swallowed heavily, anticipation simmered deep within him. Then... You spoke. 

"I think that was the most you've ever said to me," You stated, almost teasingly, your smile growing wider with each word.

Aizawa blinked at you, his eyebrows furrowing further together, "Perhaps..." He trailed off, and it wasn't long until you spoke again.

"If I am picking up what you're putting down, I think you're saying that you like me." You stated, raising an eyebrow as your smile slowly spread into a smirk. "Am I assuming correctly..?" You asked, your voice trailing off and amusement lacing your voice. Aizawa simply kept his gaze locked on you, his body tense and stiff in his seat. As your words processed in his brain, Aizawa felt his stomach twist painfully at the realization. He nodded, and you mimicked him with a small hum. "Good, 'cause I've liked you ever since we were students." You confessed, chuckling lightly as you gazed into his dull crimson eyes.

"Ever since UA?" Aizawa asked and you nodded, resting your elbow on the middle console, your palm cupping your cheek, holding your head up. 

"Yeah," You said, "Wasn't it obvious? I mean, the first two years I will admit that I was pretty determined to get to know you." You then let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes fondly, "My friends said I was like some love-sick puppy."

"Hizashi liked to tease me about it, actually." Aizawa muttered, but you heard him, your smile widening. 

Glancing at the car's clock, you sighed, before glancing back over at him, "Do you want to walk me to my door?" With his nod, it wasn’t long until you were walking up the steps; letting out a sigh as you reached the front door. Keys in hand, you turned to Aizawa with a grin. "Well, I’ll text Nezu the information we got tonight, but, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" 

Aizawa looked at you, and it was difficult to ignore how close you were. He noticed how your lips parted slightly, how your eyes sparkled in the light of the street lamps as you focused on him. He was so affected by your presence. 

His body seemed to react to you without him realizing it. His hand reached up, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing over your jawline softly. He watched the way your eyes widened slightly at his touch. Your breath hitched in your throat, and his thumb lingered over your jawline for just a moment longer.

Slowly drawing his hand away, falling to his side, Aizawa nodded. "Yeah," He mumbled in reply. "I'll see you tomorrow." He smiled, the smallest of smiles, but one of the most genuine ones that you had ever seen. 

"Okay," You breathed out your reply with a slight nod of your head, turning back around, opening the door with one final glance towards him, "Goodnight, Shōta." With those words, you slipped inside, closing the front door behind you with a soft click. Pressing your back against the door, you were unable to stop the smitten smile that spread across your features, your hands cupping your mouth, and your legs coming up to your chest; your entire body felt like it was on fire. 

Shōta Aizawa glanced at your front door once more before beginning his walk down the sidewalk. He couldn't believe it, but he still found himself smiling to himself as he walked home.

---

Main Masterlist | MHA Masterlist

[darkmajesty-xo]

soft awkward izuku fluff

izuku doesn't do this.

he doesn't like nightclubs, finding them too loud and crowded. with his line of work he's constantly on edge, so it's seeming impossible for him to "let go" in an environment like this.

he doesnt like hard liquor, preferring to sip a beer, or two, throughout the night because he'd always been a lightweight and he'd hate to ruin someone else's night by having them babysit him. kacchan's complained about it more than once.

he doesn't like small talk, it's not one of his strong suits. he can be a bit oblivious to social cues and tends to ramble incessantly about quirks, and all might and topics much too personal for polite conversations with strangers. he always ends up stammering out apologies and turning beet red when he gets "the look".

izuku doesn't do this.

he really did not want to go out tonight.

he really did not want to put on this dress shirt.

he really did not want to wait at the bar.

he turns around to look at his friend group. they're all laughing and carrying on with models and bottle girls that are desperate for their attention. even kacchan seems to be having a good time, probably recounting his victories and relishing in the way the girls linger to his every word. it's just not like that for izuku, he's always felt so awkward.

izuku doesn't do this.

he isn't some cassonova, like shinsou or sero, that can have a girl leaving with them before they'd even exchanged pleasantries.

he isn't cool or funny, like kaminari or kirishima, that can laugh a girl right out of her panties.

he isn't mysterious like shoto or confident like kachaan, whose mere existence is enough to attract a harem.

izuku doesn't do this.

he isn't his friends.

he's just--

"deku!?"

you're pretty, so so pretty; beautiful even. your smile is radiant; it leaves him breathless. your voice is angelic; like his own personal symphony. your eyes are kind; he could stare into them for hours. your body is amazing; you look so soft-- he wants to touch you in all the best, and worst, ways. your scent is hypnotic, it compliments you perfectly; he can't stop himself from leaning in-- it's like he's in a trance.

"wow, i can't believe i'm meeting my favorite hero! what can i get for you?"

he's your favorite hero? praise all might, he's blessed. to think that an angel like you had even considered his presence was astounding. if this was a different time, he'd worship at your feet with offerings of sacrifice and allegiance. you are the embodiment of all the beautiful things in the world that he'd sworn to protect. he doesn't even know your name but he's already named your three children and decided where you all would vacation in the summers.

izuku doesn't do this, because if he did he wouldn't have said that out loud and you wouldn't be giving him "the look". and fuck if he isn't mortified. can he not be a fucking nerd for once in his miserable existence ? maybe shinsou can brainwash him into forgetting how you flipped him off and called him a creep. his self deprecating mind can't handle that kind of torment on repeat.

izuku doesn't do this… and it seems like you can tell because why haven't belittled him ? why haven't you ran in the other direction? why aren't you giving him 'the look' anymore ? why are you smiling at him ?

"do i at least get to help plan the wedding? or was marriage not on the agenda?"

a joke.

that was a joke.

you were laughing with him, and not at him.

"of c-course you could help p-plan it but i think you should give me your number first".

he can thank the vestiges of OFA for that confident delivery because he was on the verge of passing out.

you whistled lowly, then bent down to grab two beers from under the bar.

"how about we start with names and see where the night takes us, huh? cheers".

izuku doesn't do this, but with the feeling of your fingers brushing his own as you hand him the drink lets him know that you're well worth it. he doesn't like his shirt, or this club but he likes you.

"cheers"

[serxinns]

can you please do yandere class 1a x reader that loves making jackets based on their quirks and hero names please my heart is burning ❤️‍🔥for this please!!!

Hmmm this is actually one of the kind!! Thank you for the ask

Sewing was your hobby and comfort, you learned it at a very young age from your grandmother and ever since you got your quirk,

your quirk is needles, this gives you the ability to shoot needles off your fingertips and hands, and can even make weapons with them, the drawback of the quirk is your hands will get cut up and sliced if you produce so many needles which results in blood loss.

You started small by making napkins and fabric coasters at a young age then started developing into making more stuff like Scrunchies and small blankets in now making clothes! Thanks to your grandmother who was a former Fashion designer

but your favorite creation was clothes! 50 percent of your clothes were handmade and decorated by you! You always have an area for your yarn with each color and pattern!

When you got accepted to Ua you were a bit of an introvert since all you wanted to do was continue with your hobby without any interruption but life had other plans,

your classmates were all so interested in your personality that they were determined to want to know everything about you you were able to befriend everyone in class but were good friends with Tokoyami and everyone in the class despise it

Tokoyami would smirk whenever you talking unaware that your classmates would glare in jealousy while Tokoyami felt victory having your attention and being your "favorite" Here, one day It was snowing hard outside you, takoyaki and Jirou the 3 of you were heading your way to the cafe which got some very good warm drinks during the winter,

Jirou was complaining about how her earphones were cold and tried to cover them up with her scarf but they kept poking out of her scarf "Ugh these stupid ear pieces" she grumbled trying to stuff them back in her ears again, you noticed and decided to give her your earmuffs "aw y/n you don't have to I'll be fine" "nah it's cool I have plenty in my dorm room anyway"

"Plenty?" She asked a bit confused grabbing Tokoyami and Dark Shadow's attention "Yeah I make them I sew stuff like clothes, pockets and even jackets it's nothing" Jirou and Dark Shadow's eyes shined with amazement they before you can speak Dark shadow immediately went up to yout face "YOU CAN MAKE JACKETS CAN I HAVE ONE PRETTY PLEASE!!"

"D-dark shadow!!" Tokoyami pulled him back face turning red in embarrassment You chuckled "no no it's fine! I'm happy to make you a jacket if you'd like! You too Jiro!" Jirou eyes started to swell and almost made you fell when she hugged you "your such a sweet person y/n sometimes we think we don't deserve you!"

When you got back with some hot drinks you measured both takoyaki and jirou and waved them goobye promising thr hackets will be done tomorrow, you got to work making the jackets you made sure they were comfortable and fitting for them even adding some accessories that fit their quirk after 6 long hours it was finally done,

safe to say you were very proud of your work especially the accessories!

The next day you gifted them the jackets and they were amazed jirou almost died of happiness wanting to lift you and take you away Ina. Wedding gown but kept her composer "These look amazing y/n!" She spinner around with the jacket a bit while you smiled "And it fits perfectly too"

Takoyami formed a small smile "I'm glad you both like it!" The 3 of you started complimenting each other's jackets forming ideas for your next clothing unaware that some of your classmates were watching you

Wn you got to class you were started when a bunch of your classmates bombarded you with questions and complicments

"Did you actually made those jackets!? Super cute!"

"I want a manly jacket"

"Why didn't your dumbass tell us that you can make jackets!?"

"Ignore these pest y/n of you run out of materials you can ask me I can create it right away for you!"

"C-can you perhaps teach me y/n! I'll like to make a blanket for my pet rabbit!"

Every classmate was crowding around your desk either begging you to make a jacket or to help you "Oh shit.." you thought this was gonna be a long day "Fine but on one condition..you owe me a lot for this!" You narrowed your eyes while everyone else was nodding eagerly

For the next 2 weeks you started making everyone else their jackets each based on their quirks and personalities momo was a big help by creating materials to make the jackets and Ochako and Sato were also a big help in encouraging you and baking you sweets

And by the next day, you gifted everyone their jackets, and let's say they went wild Mina and Hakagure were squealing and thanking you repeatedly while Iida promised you gift you something back for this generously, "Hey bakugo they all put on your jacket!" Kirishima said as he was currently wearing the jacket a tinted blush forming "It's good I guess.." sero and Denki protested demanding the blonde to give them a proper compliment

You watched how everyone was either bragging, showing off, or just In love with your creations you were glad things went well

by the end of the day, you were exhausted just wanting to crash in your bed and sleep as you slowly opened the door you were met with 100s of gifts from each of your classmates showing their gratuities you smiled even brighter as they watched from behind glad to make you happy as much as you did and will cherish the jackets forever

[alwaysonf1]

date?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: PSA there will be no French hear unless it's a pet name or I love you.

A knock on her door makes Iman jump. In the process a bit of the lip gloss she was applying gets on her chin. Panic fills her and she quickly grabs a tissue and blots it away. 

“One second,” she calls out.

Iman would love to say that all her nervous energy was because she needs to touch up her make-up quickly, but it was there long before that. It’d been there since she’d woken up from her nap. She’d opted out of the late lunch she’d been invited to, claiming she was tired and needed a bit to recharge. Which hadn’t been a lie, but it also wasn’t the complete truth. Iman needed alone time to pull herself together and scream into her pillow.

The giddy schoolgirl behavior was back.

There was a part of her that still hated that feeling, but she’d also started to embrace it. Most of her relationships didn’t come with it. That didn’t mean the ones that did were amicable at all, but for some reason she felt like this time it made sense. This time it was okay to fall into her emotions, even if the potential bad outcome comes true.

As soon as the thought enters, even though it’s not sending her into a spiral, she pushes it out. Going into this with only thoughts of the good, while being realistic is what she needed to do. Even if things ending badly, was a realistic possibility.

With a tap of her setting powder and then a light mist, she gets herself up from the seat in front of the vanity and grabs her purse from the bench near the door. Her gaze flits over the mirror on the other side of the door and she walks toward it. One thing she isn’t nervous about is her outfit.

The olive-green dress she chose fits her well up top and flares perfectly at the bottom, stopping just below her knee. It’s her favorite color to wear and she’s full of herself enough that she knows that others agree with her choice. However, the one area where she’s a little hesitant is the shoes. Why she packed stiletto length heels she was unsure, but they work and that’s all that mattered.

A deep breath, an adjustment on how the bottom half of her braids not in an updo, and then she opens the door.

Unconsciously she takes a sharp inhale. When Charles looks up at her he does the same. It stops some of the burning in her cheeks, but she could see the rosiness forming on his face immediately. He looks bashful and that comforts her for some reason.

“Hi,” she says.

Not enough to get her to say something better than that though.

“Hi. You look… beautiful, mon ange.” He sounds a little breathless.

However, that isn’t what she focuses on. No, her brain is fixated on the term of endearment. Fixated on him calling her his angel. Iman is sure that the burn in her cheeks is enough to be visible. But she hopes her blush is hiding it. Being this flustered is a little embarrassing.

“Thank you. You look handsome.” 

The statement could easily just be a throw away compliment since he gave her one, but Iman means it. Her eyes scan him from head to toe, his combination of brown slacks and a cream ribbed button up makes her warm in a different way. Her eyes meet his again and he his lips are quirked in a smirk and there’s a fire in his eyes.

A second passes with them just staring at each other, then Charles extends his hand. Iman takes it without a second or first thought. Their fingers lace together, and Charles nods his head toward the elevators.

“We shouldn’t miss our reservation.”

Iman nods and they begin to walk. 

Silence fills the space between them, but it’s comfortable. Once inside the elevator she thinks Charles will let go, but he holds her hand firmly. Not giving a single sign, he plans to release her. Even as one of her fingers taps against the back of his hand due to her mild fear of being trapped in an elevator. Something that came from getting trapped in an elevator once with Logan. 

He leads her out of the elevator once the doors open, squeezing tight for a second. 

The only times he’s been in front of her is to motion her forward in a lady first gesture. Something she doesn’t need for a date but feels good.

Though the usual move was to rent a house on vacation, everyone thought a new resort that had everything you could want on the property was a good idea. So, from the moment they exit the hotel to their arrival at the restaurant only five minutes will pass.

The first minute is with more silence, but then suddenly Iman is pressed against Charles’ side. Her eyes go wide, and she turns her head to look up at him, but then she feels a whoosh of air. She turns her head just in time to see a golf cart going too fast.

Shock is the word that best fits her as she watches the cart until it disappears. Then she looks to Charles again. Despite their impending danger just moments ago he seems very calm. Too calm.

“Did you set that up, Charlie?”

“What do you mean?” Confusion takes hold of his features. 

“Your saving the damsel in distress moment?” 

His confusion only seems to grow, and she watches as he opens his mouth to reply, then closes it. An expression that Iman would call a little arrogant replaces the confusion.

“Are you a damsel in distress, mon ange?”

Iman purses her lips in thought, then bats her lashes at him.

“Maybe.”

Charles leans in close and whispers in her ear, “Then I will save you whenever you need it.”

Involuntary shivers run down her spine and from the growing smirk she knows that Charles noticed it. Her immediate response is to fall into a shy persona, but she steels herself, this time being the one to whisper in his ear.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

There’s a mild shift in expression, but he manages to keep it off his face. 

“We have to go. Don’t want to be late, remember?” she says.

Charles clears his throat and nods, leading them to the restaurant. This silence is more tension filled than before. The kind of tension that Iman enjoys.

But because she knows that he’s already flustered she doesn’t do anything to get him even more riled up. Just holds his hand until they get to the entrance of the restaurant. Her hand goes to push open the door, but Charles beats her to it. He gives her a look that she’s sure is about the audacity of her opening the door herself and then guides her in by the small of her back.

This resort has quite a few F1 fans on staff, so it doesn’t shock Iman when the host’s face lights up and he gestures for them to follow him without a word said. He leads them through the half full restaurant and to a table that isn’t completely separate from everything else but has some level of privacy.

Charles pulls the chair out for her, and she sits, her hands itching to look at the menu, but she waits until he’s seated and the host leaves. Iman’s hand reaches out to grab the menu, but it’s gone and in Charles’ hands before she can. She opens her mouth, ready to ask what he’s doing, but that’s paused by the waiter arriving with water and taking the drink orders. Before he leaves Charles promises they’ll have their orders ready for when he comes back.

So, instead of saying anything Iman looks at Charles with a raised brow. One of his hands extends across the table and takes her’s. He looks into her eyes and she almost melts.

“I know what you want,” he says.

Immediately she wants to be apprehensive, but she doesn't give into that. Yes, people could be different when a romantic relationship is on the table, but Charles sat through an hour rant about a date with someone who ordered for her and then ate half her food while she was in the bathroom.

“Go on,” Iman says.

“They have wagyu here.”

All funny feelings fled her at once and she could feel giddiness building up in her. 

“And a asparagus dish similar to…”

A soft sound of joy escapes her, cutting him off. The mention of two of her favorite things is all she needs to hear. Without thinking she gets out of her seat and goes to his side. She takes his head in her hands and leans down, kissing him in a way that isn’t soft, but also not intense.

When she pulls away Charles looks breathless again. And for a moment Iman thinks about doing it again but sees their waiter out of the corner of her eye and moves back to her seat. 

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks when the waiter leaves.

“Listen.”

“That is all it takes?”

Iman knows he’s teasing her. They’ve had many conversations about the bar being in hell. Though he says it’s much deeper than that.

“I also just wanted to kiss you.”

“You are welcome to any time, mon ange.”

Embarrassment for her reaction to that or her reactions at all is nowhere to be found. Maybe it will turn up when she’s trying to sleep at night, but Iman has no regrets. Charles is a man she’s liked for longer than she’d care to admit and like she told herself in her hotel room, she’s allowing her elevated emotions to be what they are. She’ll mellow out.

Neither say anything else, taking a moment to taste their drinks. Wine isn’t her favorite thing, but she likes the red wine she chose. She hadn’t specified what kind, and the waiter didn’t ask. It worked in her favor.

Throat clearing and she’s looking at Charles again.

“Do you like it?’

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Good.”

“Do you want to try it?” 

Charles’ eyes widen. “Oh no, mon…”

The glass is already outstretched to him, he hesitates, but takes it after a few seconds. Iman watches intently as his lips press to the rim and he takes a small sip. And then another. And then for a third time.

“Hold on now, I didn’t say you could drink it all.”

Her hand beckons for him to give it back and he takes one last sip then hands it over. There’s a pout taking shape, but Iman refuses to be swayed by it.

“Put that lip away before I bite it. Order your own.”

Brows are raised at the word bite, and he doesn’t stop the pouting. In fact, he exaggerates it. 

“Sharl…” she warns.

That brings a smile and she can’t help but roll her eyes, before smiling as well.

Time either moved quickly or the staff did, because two waiters approach with their meals a second later. They’re both covered until the plates are on the table and a man is now no longer what Iman is salivating over.

“Thank you,” they say as the waiters leave.

Once they’re gone Iman takes no cues from Charles, just picks up the smallest piece of her already cut steak and fights a moan. It’s nearly perfect and it’s been a while since she’d had it.

Her next step is tasting the asparagus. There’s a little surprise in the restaurant having it whole, the only time she sees them in an up-scale restaurant is usually as a barely there part of the meal. 

The moment she touches her tongue her eyes go wide and she takes another bite immediately. This time something akin to a moan almost comes out, but there’s another piece in her mouth before she can release it.

“That is almost the taste exactly,” Iman says.

“I don’t believe I have asked you, why do you enjoy those so much?”

Iman puts down the cutlery and takes a sip of her wine.

“Lewis was, and still is, a terrible cook. But that didn’t stop my mother from leaving me with him for a week while she worked. I only knew the basics and that got tiring after a while. So, I begged him to make something fancier. He caved, we went to the store and grabbed anything. Then we got home and it was a disaster trying to figure things out. Burned chicken, burned chocolate lava cake, and somehow burned mashed potatoes. Asparagus is the only thing that we managed not to burn and we’d just thrown random spices on them before roasting so we were terrified. But we agreed it was the best vegetable eating experience we’d ever had. Took weeks to figure out how to recreate it.

“And then he went vegan on me. So, it became one of the few shared favorite dishes we have.”

Charles appears thoughtful. There was some eating here and there - from both of them - as Iman spoke, but she had his full attention the entire time.

“Ah. I will admit that this love you have for it is still confusing to me, but I understand. Now, how did you come to love such an expensive cut of cow?”

Soft laughter escapes Iman because of his phrasing.

“For one of my birthdays, Lewis just showed up and said we were going to Japan. I’d always wanted to, but mom refused to let him just jet me here and there because it would spoil me or something. As if he didn’t in every other way,” Iman rolls her eyes. “But anyway, we went and did all the touristy things, ate ramen in small towns, and bought way too much in all the districts of Tokyo. Then we went to a restaurant that was just the fanciest place I’d ever seen. It was a kind of place that had a set menu.

“I wasn’t all that sure about trying the wagyu when it came out redder than I liked, but he convinced me and it was the best steak I’d ever eaten. We still had a week after that and I convinced him four more times to take me to places with wagyu, but I refused to have anything but the best. That’s the first and only time he’s cut off my spending. Which is fair. I was at risk of actually putting a dent in his bank account if I got my way.”

A fondness fills Iman and she thinks back to the chaos and fun of that trip.

“So should I raise my price when I go into contract negotiations to prepare for this addiction of yours?” he asks, laughing.

“If you like me, happy.”

“Then I will do just that.”

Iman was uncertain if he was joking or not, but there was this look in his eye that made her think he might not be.

Instead of addressing that she continues to eat her meal. They speak here and there about the things they loved in life. There’s a lot of focus on Iman getting back into dancing and Charles wanting to release more music.

“Why not release a single? Get the fans excited.” Iman asks

“I have nothing ready.”

“I’ve heard your “unfinished” music before, it’s great. You’re just too in your head.”

“Perhaps.”

Two waiters arrive to take their plates and then leave quickly. As if scared to linger longer than necessary.

“Dessert?”

Lips pursed, Iman shakes her head. “Hm… I usually wouldn’t say no, but I don’t know if I can manage.”

“We could share?”

Iman thinks it over, she knows that she’ll have to satisfy the sweet treat craving later if she doesn’t now. Which is fine, but she kind of wants to know what the restaurant has to offer. 

“Okay.”

Hand not even halfway up and the waiter is at their table.

“What can I help you with?” he asks.

“One of your chocolate mousses, please.”

“Only one, sir?

“Yes, we will share.”

Their waiter pulls a face. “I’m sorry sir, are you sure? The mousse is quite small.”

Charles looks at me and I turn toward the waiter.

“Two of them, please.”

The waiter nods and is gone as fast as he arrived. 

They continue talking about everything under the sun and just like their food, the mousse is there before they know it. And when they see it, their understanding of what small means is very clear.

“No wonder they provide such small spoons, trying to make people think it’s more than two scoops,” Iman says.

Nothing else is said and they dig in. It takes them both three spoonfuls to be done with it, confirming that Iman will need to order something from room service anyway.

“Ready to go?” Charles asks.

“Yes.”

He leaves the table and returns a minute later with his hand outstretched.

Iman takes it and rises from her seat and allows him to lead her out of the restaurant. The sun is much lower in the sky and so the walk is much slower than it was before. Their hands lightly swing between them.

When they reach Iman’s room she thinks it’s too soon, despite turning a five-minute walk into twenty. 

Stalling, she turns to face him and just stares. Charles does the same thing. Then he’s creeping closer and closer, until Iman’s back is flush against her door. One of his hands slips to her waist and the other cups her face. He angles her head up and then his lips are on her’s. They’re soft and taste of chocolate. It’s gentle to start, but Iman wraps her arms around him, trying to pull him closer and it takes a turn.

They part for a moment and then Iman puts a hand in his hair and pulls him back in. Her teeth graze his lip, he shivers. So, she does it again, but instead of a graze it’s a bite.

A haze comes over her.  As they finally pull away and she doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, but she hears voices and doesn’t want to get in trouble for indecent acts in public.

“I should probably…” she trails, hitching a thumb at her door.

Charles clears his throat and loses some of that spacy look he has going on.

“Yes, you need your rest. We have an early morning.”

“Someone really should have stopped that Florida man from booking a sunrise breakfast boat ride and then snorkeling.”

Laughter. “I am sure it will be fun.”

“I hope so.”

Seconds tick by with neither of them doing anything. Then the voices get closer and Iman rediscovers sense. 

“So… good night, Sharl.”

“Good night, mon ange.”

They lean in and kiss again, but it’s more of a peck. Then he watches as she unlocks the door and goes into her room. She waves at him as she closes the door.

Inside her room Iman stands perfectly still as she counts down thirty seconds, hoping that he’s on the elevator. She reaches thirty and she grabs a pillow from the love seat in her room and screams into it.

“Hell yes,” she shouts.

###

Every second since Charles kissed Iman at her door has been like he’s floating on a cloud. His every moment is almost autopilot and when he breaks from his stupor for a second or two, he can’t remember when he changed into his pajamas or dimmed the lights. 

Standing in front of the bathroom sink so he can brush his teeth, his eyes meet the reflection and he sees a dopey smile on his face. Not that he hasn’t known it was there this entire time. But seeing it is different. It confirms something for him.

He’s not going to let this slip away. 

That’s not the thing he’s confirmed though, but he can’t find it in himself to address it. It feels too fast.

[soobibabe]

scripted hearts teaser

pairings: jeon jungkook + reader. genre: romantic comedy (including eventual smut.) trope: actor/actress au, work romance, friends to lovers.

"And, scene. That's it for today everyone, good work!" the director shouts from behind the camera, wrapping off the recording.

But for you, there is a pause. The tension is so high in the room that for the first time, you can't distinguish yourself from your character anymore. Your co-stars' hands are around your waist, eyes meeting yours with so much intensity, it makes you dizzy.

The sound of the other actors calling your names for team dinner snaps you both back into reality. You're not sure what that was.

This isn't your first film with Jungkook. A few years ago, you worked together in your debut drama. It was one in which he was the second male lead and you were the main character's best friend.

Now, you're the main character. Jungkook, your leading man.

You're not used to romance dramas, you typically take on thriller roles. Maybe that's why filming scenes like these with close contact with him makes your heart pound out of your chest.

He clears his throat, "We should get going..." Did he feel it too? "yeah, let's go" you reply, reluctantly peeling yourself away from his embrace to return to your dressing room.

At dinner, Jungkook sits next to you and everyone's engaged in conversation. Perhaps you've had a little too much to drink, you're usually reserved but right now you can't help but feel so free. You're laughing at everything, smiling a lot more, and even making stupid jokes, your co-workers are perplexed.

"Cute".

You turn your head to Jungkook and he's already looking at you with the same enamored expression he has when you're filming 'Eternal Summer'. He's definitely not drunk, did he really say that?

"What is it?" you ask. "Nothing. You look pretty." he responds, causing you to blush at the unexpected compliment. What has gotten into him...

You wake up in your bed, not remembering when or how you got home. 'Did my manager pick me up?' There's a honey hangover on your nightstand. 'How thoughtful of Yura.'

Today's the day you have to do the promotion photoshoot with Jungkook. You're used to these, you recently shot one with Kim SO-Hyun for a commercial so it shouldn't be difficult, but this is Jeon Jungkook, the national heartthrob.

When you get there, your manager runs through the concept with you. "Thanks for the hangover curse by the way" Yura looks at you as you voice this, puzzled.

"Hey didn't I tell you not to drink if you can't remember what happened after?" She begins to scold.

"Oh! ahaha i was just kiddin-" you begin. "Y/n! Which outfit are we doing first?" Jungkook calls across the room, enraptured looking at the choices.

"Coming!" you yell back, smiling it Yura, thankful Jungkook's excitement saved you from an earful.

[after the shoot]

"Did you get the honey cure?" Jungkook inquires.

Your eyes widen at his sudden question. Theres no way you were that blacked-out. shit. "Wait, that was you?"

"Do you not remember?" his head tilts to the side, eyebrow quirking to match your confused expression.

You pause to think.

"Oh my god" you whisper under your breath, looking away from the taller figure, as the memories of last night run through your head like a 1900s stop-motion film.

[summarised text-version:] 1. Falling asleep on Jeon Jungkook's shoulder at the table. The group was too busy chatting and drunk themselves to notice your head on his strong arms. 2. Jungkook, realizing your sleepy state, gently nudging you awake and offering to drive you home. You refuse. Insisting that you were perfectly fine to walk, much to Jungkook's amusement. 3. Defeatedly allowing him the grace of escorting you home. Him wrapping his arm around your waist to steady you as you wobbled out of the restaurant. You, in your drunken haze, telling him he smelled nice, causing him to laugh softly. 4. After lots of sulking the whole car ride about how you were totally fine and could have stayed for more drinks, you arrived at your estate. You fumbled with your keys until Jungkook finally took them from you, opening the door. Once you're inside, you're reminded of just how lonely this huge place is. 5. Inviting Jeon Jungkook into your home. Once you're inside, you're reminded of just how isolating this huge place is. "Can you stay a little longer? I'm not tired yet, and it's too lonely here to entertain myself to sleep." you asked in pout, slurring your words unknowingly. Jungkook's eyes scanned your face attempting to examine if you were being serious, the sadden expression you displayed told him all that he needed to know. "Sure, no problem." he flashed a smile. "What do you wanna do? Talk? Movies? Games?" "All of the above!" you exclaim, eyes closed and hand in the air throwing an excited grin. "Adorable" he whispers inaudibly to you and ruffles your hair. 6. Passing time with a beautiful man in your abode. You lead him into your kitchen where you show him your wine collection, your beer fridge, and finally, your pantry, all of which you make known that he can access at any time. You make your way to your living room where you set up the consoles while he does whatever he's doing in the kitchen. Shortly after, jungkook joins you with 2 beers and ramen, sitting beside you taking the console out of your hand. "Missed me?" he asked, jokingly. "Ramen! What a man you are, Jeon." you say with a teasing tone. You really do appreciate his effort. You play whilst waiting for the food to cool down, the tension in the room rising when you grow competitive, annoyed at how astonishingly good jungkook is at this stupid game. "hey! you're cheating!" you dodge when his hand sneaks up to your side, endeavoring to tickle you, eliciting a laugh from him. In the end, jungkook wins all 3 matches, poking fun at your post-loss temper. But after a while passes, you're back in your haze again, Jungkook doesn't miss the sadness in your eyes when you look at him. "Are you okay? How come you drank so much? I remember when we shot 'Ephemeral' you refused to drink at team gatherings." his tender eyes soften upon meeting yours. "You're more observant than I realised. I became more open to drinking after Seo-Joon and I broke up" that's all you say before chugging the rest of your beer.

"Oh, I'm sorry for bringing that up then," he starts, but you interrupt him by saying; "Don't be. He couldn't make me cum anyway." Jungkook's jaw drops, expression changing from guilt to one of shock, and... pity?

"But -- weren't you with him for... a year?" he speaks as though he can't believe what he's saying. "Yeah well, his ego was too big for me to have burst it by telling him I didn't finish, so I just faked it." the alcohol seemed to make you more honest.

"It is what it is," you laugh it off, "don't look so startled".

"What about now?" his question catches you off guard this time. "Have you been able to get off?" the alcohol is probably getting to him now.

"I haven't been with anyone else since if that's what you're asking, but sometimes I just don't have the time to you know - do it myself." you admit, and he's stunned.

"How about I help you?" with the face of the person asking, you don't need much convincing. "When? right now?" you ask, a little puzzled.

"Wow, I didn't know you wanted me that badly," he smirks "No silly, not now. When you're sober, if you need me, you can have me." with that being said, your cheeks are now a new shade of red and it's not from the alcohol.

"I'm gonna go get another beer," you announce before drifting out into the dark halls to your kitchen, ignoring that you can practically hear your heartbeat racing.

When you come back to the living room, Jungkook has already switched the videogames to Netflix, waiting for your return to start 'The Notebook'.

Halfway into the movie, you fall asleep on his shoulder for the second time that night. He cleans up, trying not to move too much in order to not wake you.

He lifts you bridal style -- like you were a feather, taking you to your room and tucking you into your bed. Before he leaves. he goes back into the fridge to take out the honey hangover remedy he made when you arrived, placing it on your bedside table for when you wake up.

[the end >.<] There are many gaps in the flashback of last night, however, that doesn’t stop you from being flushed with embarrassment. "Jungkook I am so sorry about-"

"I had fun. We should hang out more." he shuts down your apology, subsequently ridding you of any overthinking that was about to take place in your head.

“I agree,” you speak before giving much thought to your answer — did you answer too quickly?

“Like right now. My blood sugars low from all that losing i want a sweet treat” he interrupts before you can attempt to modify your response. It’s like he can see right through you.

You’re still processing Jungkook’s comment when he continues, a playful glint in his eye. “How about we head to that café down the street for some dessert? I heard they have the best pastries in town.”

The idea of spending more time with him, especially in a relaxed setting, fills you with a mix of excitement and apprehension. You nod, trying to keep your composure. “That sounds great. Let me just grab my jacket.”

A/N: Currently, there is no official release date for the full story. However, I am eager to hear your thoughts on the storyline so far.

To be added to the official taglist, please click here!

By joining the taglist, you will receive notifications when the story is published, as you will be tagged in the official announcement by the author.

© all rights reserved soobibabe on tumblr. do not cross-post, copy or translate etc.

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Dear Y/N

My darling diamond, I look into your eyes, deep within them, there is a light that guides me like a star in an ocean of darkness. Your lips are a melody, every time they move, my heart dances to the music of your words. Every touch, every whisper, every glance is like a brushstroke on the canvas of my soul, revealing a masterpiece. Your laughter is a symphony, echoing through the chambers of my heart, filling every corner with its sweet harmony. Your smile is the sun that lights up my world and illuminates even the darkest of days. I cherish every moment I spend with you. Your voice is a lullaby that soothes my mind and eases my soul. Every sound that escapes your lips is a gentle whisper that caresses my heart like a soothing breeze. Your presence is a comfort that wraps around me like a warm embrace, providing solace in times of turmoil. Your touch is a flame that ignites fireworks in my heart.

I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, and the way your eyes light up when I compliment you. I love how comfortable we are with each other, and how even in silence, we can communicate. I love the way our bodies fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle that were made to fit together. I love the sound of your voice, whispering in my ear, and the feel of your skin against mine. I love the way you make me feel safe like I can be my true self around you without fear of judgment. I love the way you always know exactly what to say when I'm feeling down, and the way you support me in everything I do. You make me feel like I can conquer the world. I love the way we can spend hours talking about the smallest things, or just sitting in silence, enjoying each other's company. I love the way you challenge me to be a better person and the way you believe in me, even when I sometimes doubt myself. I love the way you touch me, whether it's a gentle caress or a passionate embrace, your touch ignites a fire within me, a fire that only grows stronger with each passing day. I love the way you surprise me with little gestures, like bringing me my favorite food or leaving a note on my pillow. I love waking up next to you, and watching you sleep, feeling the steady rhythm of your breathing, and the warmth of your body next to mine.

I love the way you can make me laugh, even when I'm feeling like the world is ending. I love the way you understand me, even when I don't understand myself. I love the way you know all my quirks and little habits, like how I take my tea and how I sometimes talk to myself when I'm deep in thought. I love the way you don't mind my messy bedhead in the morning, and the way you always seem to know exactly what I need before I even realize it myself. I love the way you surprise me with small gestures of love, like leaving notes around the house, or bringing me my favourite food when I'm having a rough day. I love the way you listen to me when I talk, and the way you remember even the smallest details about our conversations. I love the way you make me laugh, even when I'm in a bad mood. You have a way of lighting up any room you walk into, and I love how easy it is for me to get lost in your eyes.

I love the way you make me laugh, no matter what mood I'm in. I love the way your presence can instantly calm me down and make me feel at peace. I love the way you make me feel seen, heard, and understood. I love the way you share your dreams with me, and how you encourage me to follow my own. I love the way you look in the early morning light when you're still asleep, and how you look at me when you wake up and see me lying next to you. I love the sound of your voice when you sing, even if you don't think you're any good at it. I love the way you smell after you've just gotten out of the shower and the way your hair looks when you let it air dry. I love the way you dance when you think nobody is looking, and the way you get flustered when I catch you. I love the way you hold me when we watch movies like I'm the most precious thing in the world. I love the way we can share our deepest fears and darkest secrets without judgment. I love the way we can be vulnerable with each other, and know that we will be met with love and understanding. I love the way our personalities match so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. I love the way we make each other better, and how we grow together. I love the way we can be silly and childish one moment, and mature and rational the next. I love every moment I spend with you, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

I love how you make even the mundane seem extraordinary. I love how you can turn a simple errand into an adventure. I love how you can make me feel at home, even when we're far away from our own. I love the way you make me feel like I'm the only person in the world when we're together. I love the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking like I'm the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. I love everything about you, and every day I fall in love with you more. I love the way you accept me for who I am, my flaws and all. I love the way you push me to be my best self, even when it's uncomfortable. I love the way you support me in pursuing my dreams, and how you celebrate my successes with me. I love the way we can balance each other out, like yin and yang. I love the way you accept my quirks and eccentricities, and love me even more, for them. And most of all, I love the way you make my heart skip a beat every time you walk into the room. I love the way we can spend hours talking about nothing, and still manage to have the most meaningful conversations. I love the way we can finish each other’s sentences, and how we sometimes even speak at the same time, almost like we’re thinking the same things. I love the way you make me feel like I'm the only person in the world when it's just the two of us. I love the way you make my heart skip a beat with just a smile or a touch.

I love the way you make every moment special, no matter what we're doing. I love the way you make me feel like the only person in the world when we're together. I love the way your touch makes my skin tingle, and how your smile brightens my day. I love the way you push me out of my comfort zone, and how you never let me settle for mediocrity. I love the way you inspire me to be the best version of myself, and how you believe in me more than I believe in myself. I love the way you show your love through small gestures. I love the way you surprise me with my favorite treats. I love the way you leave me sweet notes in unexpected places. I love the way you hold my hand and give it a gentle squeeze when you know I'm anxious. I love the way you remember my favorite songs and play them when we're together. I love the way you make me feel loved and cherished, every moment of every day.

There are countless reasons why I love you, and I could write a thousand more. You are my rock, my safe place, my sanctuary. You are the one who makes me feel whole. You are my reason for happiness, my source of strength, my best friend, and my lover. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know whatever happens, I want to face it with you by my side.

With all my love always and forever, Anthony

[flowerandblood]

Valentine's Day Q&A

I want to get to know you a little better, and there's no better day for dirty questions than Valentine's Day! Choose which part of the question you want to answer and, of course, only do it if you feel like it! It will be perfectly fine if you skip answering some questions. 😌

The most painful love crush/disappointment in real life? 😵

Do you remember the scene in Glass Cuts Deepests when Wright tells Aemond about her ex boyfriend putting a flower behind other girl's ear? Well, that happened to me, just we weren't together, but I was completely in love with him before I met my husband and this scene was DEVASTATING to watch!

What was your first real date like/what do you imagine your first real date would be like? 😇

I went on my first date ever with my husband (although we both said it was just a friendly meeting). We went to the cinema together to see the movie Green Book. I kept shushing him because he wanted to talk to me during the show, haha.

What would be the most awkward situation for you on a date/has happened to you while dating? 😐

It's not really strange, but I burst out laughing because one of my husband's first compliments to me was "I can't stop looking at your socks" with Michelangelo's naked David on them.

What was your first kiss like/what do you imagine your first kiss would be like? 😚

My husband was suffering from a huge hangover after his friends birthday party which he had attended the day before. He felt sick and I asked if he wanted to take a nap (we were in the room he was renting) and he asked what I would do then. I said that I could fall asleep at any time of the day or night (it's true) and we ended up lying next to each other.

Of course, he suddenly didn't feel like sleeping, and my first kiss (with my consent, because what could I do? He would never have dared to do it if he was sober) tasted of vodka (of course, he was taking a shower etc. before I came, it's just that after so much alcohol, you actually sweat vodka). 😂

Do you have any sexual quirks that others would find strange/is there anything you would never do when it comes to sex? 😬

Neither I nor my husband are into oral sex at all. We've tried and we both can't concentrate, we both only think about the fact that someone will accidentally make the other person uncomfortable. We had a conversation about it and agreed that it simply wasn't for us. 😂

We both also abhor bodily fluids and often laugh about it after everything "blehhh take it away from me" is the order of the day. We are having a good time tho, haha!! 😂

What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done/could do with your partner? 🥵

I would let him spank my ass until I cried. 😇

The most romantic thing ever? 💕

My hubby giving me food and brushing my hair while laying next to me when I'm sad. 😭

None pressure tags: @ewanmitchellcrumbs; @targaryenrealnessdarling; @humanpurposes; @aegonx; @black-dread; @sapphirehearteyes; @aemvnd; @zenka69; @at-a-rax-ia; @malfoytargaryen @blackswxnn @toodlesxcuddles @kckt88 @immyowndefender @bellaisasleep @persephonerinyes @alphard-hydraes-blog @zaldritzosrose @aveatquevale- @fan-goddess @lottie-blue-star @fullmoonworshipper

+ anyone who feels like it of course!!!

[sweet-honey-tears]

Advertising Hero

Makeup. P2

Part one

Tetsu, Shoji, Tokoyami, Aoyama x Reader

Hello, all my bubble bees. IM BACK -for a limited time only. As requested, we have another hero makeup! I did these while taking a break between work, and it was really enjoyable to do. I also can't get over the idea of Deku’s makeup being cosplay makeup—that boy definitely costplayed all might. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Reader wear dress and makeup, possibly suggestive if you squint.

“New Pro Hero makeup brands have been released to the public as of yesterday. And all I can say is it is no bullcrap branding. There seems to actually have been a lot of thought out into these product- cruelty free and safe. There even seems to be ointments in the makeup to help with skin… actual care was put into these products.”

-Vlogger

🩶 Tetsutetsu 🩶

Tetsu: Luid metallic eyeliner

Advertisement: The background was black, allowing all focus to be on you and Tetsu. You stood facing the camera, arms crossed and legs shoulder width apart, a power pose. The tight version of Tetsu’s hero costume was barely visible on your frame. The room was dark, minus the sliver of light that crept in to catch the liquid metallic linear that adorned your face; its mirror-like quality allowed the shape of Tetsu’s signature ‘mask’ to be seen. A mysterious, dangerously flirty smile played on your and testus lips as he ‘looked’ over his flexing arm, his eyes covered in shadow. Tetsu stood behind you, back to yours, as he flexed his arms, his quirk causing the tiny sliver of light to shine over each defined muscle in his bicep and catch on the points of his sharp white smile.

💪 Shoji 💪

Shoji: Wet Eye Liners - Water Activated Dry Liners Pallet

Advertisement: It was a sweet scene with a calming blue background. You and Shoji sat face to face as the camera caught your side angle, the warm lighting only causing the two of you to rest in your golden hour. You sat on your knees, leaning over to reach the towering man sitting before you. Shoji’s mask remained on, but it was clear from his eyes that he was smiling widely. Your hand held a small brush, a light blue pigment at the end of its bristles as if caught in mid-motion of painting on flowing hearts to his upper cheeks. Your own were adorned with small, beautiful pink flowers that reached the corner of your eyes. The open pallet played to the side, and its light colors were fully displayed to the camera. The label ‘inner calmness’ with all the color's names splayed open.

🖤 Tokoyami 🖤

Tokoyami: Gothic Eye Shadow Pallet and Black Lquid Linear

Advertisement: It was a dark mansion setting, with a dark background and an almost throne-like chair where you sat. Slightly leaned over to rest your chin on your palm, elbow resting on the armrest. You glanced over at the camera, a confidently dangerous grin on your dark-painted lips. Your hair was woven in a way that portrayed a crown, with silver strands woven in. Your eyeshadow was dark purple blended to black with a slight touch of a dark grey shimmer nestled between the two colors, a sharp glossy cat-eye cutting through the blended color. Tokoyami stood by your side, leaning against the relatively large chair. You both wore black; Tokoyami a suit and you a simple dress with a slight shimmering bottom to compliment the look.

✨ Aoyama ✨

Aoyama: Fine Body Glitter- Safe to put on eye lids

Advertises:You were standing on the red carpet with Aoyama, your arm resting on his as you turned to model for the many paparazzi. You stare at the camera, a large smile on your lips, a hand on your hip, and the other resting on Aoyama’s. Your strapless shimmering dress with elbow-length matching gloves complemented the shimmering body glitter on shoulders, eyelids, and even hair; which was elegantly pulled up. The lights of hundreds of cameras only made the sparkles more beautiful. Aoyama stood off your side, seeming perfectly fine not to be in the camera flash for once, his eyes glued to you.

[cybrsan]

Roll The Dice | C.S

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Summary: In the wake of his recent world tour, your boyfriend has decided to treat you to a night out in Las Vegas to commemorate his success and your upcoming anniversary. Though the city is renowned for its gambling, the two of you play a much more interesting game of chance.

Pairing: Choi San x F!Reader

Genre: Rockstar!AU, smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): Alcohol use, gambling, semi-public sex, unsafe sex

A/N: Inspired by my trips to Vegas and Atlantic City, but mainly AC where I was surprised by the bathroom stalls and how private they were. A couple of delusional conversations with my friend later, and here we are. Enjoy!

Walking into the casino feels like entering a different world. You have seen the movies portraying the extravagance of Las Vegas, heard the stories, but nothing could have prepared you for what it's like being there yourself.

All of your senses are immediately overwhelmed. The glow of LEDs, the pinging of the slots, the smell of cigarette smoke... it's unlike anything you have experienced before. The machines and card tables seem to beckon you, inviting you to try your luck and risk your money. The environment sets your nerves alight, your pulse thrumming with both anxiety and excitement. You've never felt more alive—or so you think. But then you see him, and your heart practically leaps out of your chest.

San is standing at the bottom of a double staircase on the opposite side of the room, looking as if he has been plucked straight out of one of the vintage pictures on the wall. His blonde hair is slicked back, with a few choice strands hanging loosely against his forehead. His tie is undone, as are the first few buttons of his white dress shirt, exposing the smooth skin of his chest. His complexion is already flushed; he must have gotten there quite sometime before you and drank as he waited.

It feels like forever since you've last seen him as he's been on tour with his band for the past few months, traveling the world. You miss him terribly when he goes away, but life on the road isn't for you, and you would never step between him and his dream. He just finished his last show and, with your anniversary coming up, decided to spoil you with a surprise trip to Vegas.

You can tell the moment he spots you because his eyes light up, and the most beautiful smile spreads across his face. As you begin to walk toward each other, you can't help but think about how well he fits in here, how this kind of decadence suits him and his lifestyle perfectly. Yet, amongst all the lights and dazzling attractions, he still shines the brightest.

He reaches you and immediately envelops you in a tight embrace, nuzzling his face into your neck. He smells like Black Orchid, all warm spice and earthy, and it's a scent that you've come to associate with him over the years. You inhale deeply, a feeling of comfort and familiarity washing over you.

"God, I've missed you," he whispers, breath fanning against your skin.

You can't help but smile. "I've missed you more," you reply, voice barely above a whisper.

"Impossible." He pulls back, holding you at arm's length, and looks you up and down. "You look gorgeous, baby.”

You beam at the compliment and do a little twirl for him, showing off the stunning dress that he bought you. “Why, thank you. I happen to have a boyfriend with an impeccable fashion sense.”

“That right?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Is this boyfriend of yours handsome?”

“Oh, very.”

He can’t keep up the act, his trademark dimpled smile returning at your praise. You would think that being a rockstar would give him an inflated ego, but he’s always been humble and easily flustered when it comes to compliments.

He grabs your hand and leads you to one of the many nearby bars, ordering something for the both of you. The entire time the bartender mixes your drinks, he stays pressed against you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You inquire about paparazzi and whether or not you should expect to see your photo in the tabloids tomorrow morning, but he promises that he has security planted all over the casino and that no one will be able to get past them.

“We’re free to do whatever we want,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your neck. “Don’t worry, baby.”

“Really? In that case, let’s not waste any time.”

You quickly down your drink, San following suit, and off to the tables you go. Poker, blackjack, craps, roulette—you play them all, hours passing as you rack up win after win. You seem to only get luckier as the night goes on, and San only gets clingier. Every time you win, he’s there with a congratulatory kiss or an affectionate pat on the ass. His arm never strays from your waist, or, if you’re sitting, his hand from your thigh, and his eyes stay locked onto you and only you.

You don’t know when the shift happens, but soon his touches start to linger a bit longer, his kisses turn a bit more desperate. As you leave the roulette table, he pulls you into a darkened corner, slotting his body against yours.

"I can't take it anymore," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I need you now.”

His lips crash onto yours, and you meet his kiss with equal fervor. You can feel his desperation in the way his hands move over your body, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue slides over your lips, seeking entrance, and you open your mouth willingly. You almost lose yourself in him, and you very well may have if it weren’t for the loud ringing signaling a jackpot happening somewhere on the casino floor. When you pull back, he immediately caresses your face and asks if you’re alright. His pupils are blown wide, and you can tell he’s barely holding himself together, but the concern on his features is plain as day.

“Not here,” you laugh, breathless. “We may be safe from paparazzi, but people still have eyes and like to spread rumors on the internet.”

“Yeah, I suppose fucking you up against a slot machine would draw some attention.” He sighs dramatically. “Damn—another plan foiled by my superstardom.”

“I don’t think being famous has anything to do with getting arrested for public indecency,” you joke, flicking him gently on the nose. “However,” you continue, eyeing a door across the way. “I do need to go to the bathroom.”

“What?” It takes him a moment to understand what you’re insinuating, but when you look him up and down and then back to the bathroom door, it clicks. “Oh. Oh. I see.”

He follows you across the floor, every so often grabbing at your waist or brushing his hand against the small of your back, not being able to take his hands off of you for even a second. He is always like this—always needy, craving your touch as if it is the only thing that sustains him. The two of you aren’t exactly being subtle, but amongst the hustle and bustle of the casino, surely no one will notice or care even if they do. 

You enter the women’s bathroom, relieved to see that your luck has extended to this scenario. Either no one is here, or everyone happens to be occupied in a stall, the doors of which are made of solid wood, reaching from floor to ceiling with no gaps. Perfect, total privacy. No one will be able to hear a thing if you’re quiet enough.

San enters the stall first and you quickly follow, making sure to double-check that the door latches securely. The second the lock clicks into place, he presses against you from behind, trapping you between his body and the cold wood. He maneuvers himself so that one of his legs settles nicely between your thighs, and you instinctively lean against him, pressing your back into his chest. You will never get tired of being close to him like this. The way his body heat sets you ablaze, the way the muscles in his arms flex as he wraps them around your waist, the way his hips press into yours so desperately… he’s done so little, yet you already feel as if you could come undone. God, you’ve missed him so badly.

He kisses the side of your neck, trailing down to your exposed shoulder. He echoes your own thoughts, murmuring a soft “I’ve missed you” against your skin. You want to let him know you feel the same, but you can only moan in response as he shifts his leg in a way that makes it rub against your clothed core. Knowing him, he’d be content to get you off this way—he always likes to make you come at least once or twice before fucking you properly—but you have missed his face and the feeling of his lips on yours.

You turn to face him properly, and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips with his own. You moan into the kiss and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it lightly. He nips at your lower lip as his hand trails lower and lower, teasing fingers dancing down your spine and over the curve of your ass until he finally reaches the hem of your dress and tugs it up over your hips.

You shiver as more of your skin is exposed and San coos. “My poor baby. Let me warm you up.”

He slides his hand into your underwear, spreading you open with his fingers. So familiar with your body, having mapped you out so many times before, he finds your clit almost instantly. He circles around it softly a few times, just enough to make your breath hitch, before moving slowly downward. He teases your entrance, dipping the tip of his finger in just barely, then moves back to your clit and pays it some more attention. All the while, he kisses and nips at your exposed shoulders and collarbones, marking up your skin without stopping to consider the fact that, eventually, you’re going to have to walk out of here together. He repeats his ministrations until you’re dripping, and you can feel him smirk against your skin.

When he finally presses a finger fully into you, your knees almost buckle. He supports you almost entirely with his one arm, barely breaking a sweat as he watches the way your face contorts in pleasure. He adds a second finger and you dig your nails into his shoulders, hanging onto him for dear life.

“Am I making you feel good, baby? Gonna come so soon?”

You nod, head reeling. “Yes, good, so good.”

He chuckles and lets go of you for just a moment to pull down the top of your dress, exposing one of your breasts. He takes your nipple into his mouth, alternating between sucking on it and flicking it with his tongue. Your body feels electric, your skin tingling, a telltale sign of your oncoming climax. But, as good as it feels, you want to hold off just a bit longer.

You grab his arm, motioning for him to pull out of you, and he immediately complies. You reach down and palm him through the front of his pants, hoping to give him some pleasure in return. He whines, burying his head in the crook of your neck as his ministrations falter. You unbutton his dress shirt, exposing more of his toned chest and shoulders. Unmarred golden skin calls to you, begging to be covered in bruises and bite marks. Lacing your hand in his hair, you kiss the freckles on his neck once, twice, before sucking a hickey onto his pulse point. You continue to palm him and he ruts into your hand, breathing heavily against your skin.

You take a moment to unbuckle his belt and go to get on your knees in front of him but he stops you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his own.

“As much as I love when you get on your knees for me, I’ve been waiting way too long to bury my face in that pretty cunt of yours.”

His words send a jolt right to your core and you can’t help the way you clench in anticipation. San notices the way the muscles in your thighs tense and he smiles, getting on his knees in your stead and lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. He places a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh before sucking a mark into the skin there, so close but so far from where you desperately need him.

“San, please…”

He looks up at you through his eyelashes, watching the way your chest heaves up and down with bated breath. “God, you’re so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

San presses a kiss to your clothed clit, humming gently. The vibrations ripple through you, and you writhe against his teasing. He seems pleased by your reaction and does it again, chuckling when you cry out. Pulling your thong to the side, he licks one long, slow strip up your core.

He groans, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ve missed the way you taste.”

“If that’s true, then don’t tease me.” You tug on his hair gently as a warning.

“I’ll do whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.”

“Just give it to me,” you whine.

Slowly but surely, he pushes one finger into your entrance and kisses your clit once again, this time sucking it into his mouth. A sigh of relief escapes you; it’s good, but it still isn’t enough. He crooks his finger once, twice, before pulling it out of you entirely. His mouth leaves you shortly after, and you clench your thighs around his head instinctively, trying to hold him in place.

“Use your words. Tell me what you want me to do, or I’ll stop.”

“Please, San, please, make me cum. I need it, I need you, please—”

San cuts you off, having heard all he needed to. He pumps his finger back into your heat, and the most desperate, wanton noise escapes you. You would be embarrassed if not for the pleasure tearing through your body. You brace yourself with one hand against the door for support, the other running up San's neck and back into his hair, not wanting your knees to give out from under you.  His lips move to join his fingers, slipping his tongue in alongside them, adding an extra layer of sensation that nearly brings you to your high right then and there. You’re confident that his face is ruined with your arousal, but the thought only makes you moan.

“Always so good for me,” he murmurs, hot breath fanning against your cunt. He continues with vigor and you can tell that he wants to bring you to the edge. You rock your hips against his face so that with each movement, his nose brushes against your clit. Your legs begin to quiver, and he wraps his free arm around the back of your knees to steady you. You cum with a whine that you attempt to stifle with the back of your hand.

San stands, making sure to keep a steady grip on you, and kisses you so that you can taste your own arousal on his tongue. It’s filthy, but you love it, unable to keep from moaning into his mouth. You whisper sweet nothings into each other’s mouths as you hurry to get San’s shirt off, desperate to feel more of his skin underneath your hands. 

The flushing of a toilet in a stall close to yours brings the both of you back to earth and San groans, displeased by the interruption. He rests his forehead on yours and brings a thumb up to gently stroke your cheek.

“You sure you want to do this here, baby?”

You appreciate the fact that he is giving you the chance to back out, and you know that, despite the privacy of the stall, it’s likely that what is going on is no mystery to those that get close enough to overhear. You may get caught, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when you feel as if you need him to live, to breathe. 

“San, I want you. Now.”

He smiles beautifully, kisses you sweetly, before turning you around so that your ass is pressed against his crotch. You press your hands against the stall door for support, hoping that it won’t shake too much with what you’re about to do. He slides your panties down your legs, removing them completely this time and tucking them into his pocket. He lowers his pants just enough to free his cock and quickly aligns it with your entrance, pushing into you ever so slowly. 

The slow stretch of him feels so good, and you feel so full for the first time in forever. You know he’s being gentle because you haven’t had him in so long, but you want more. You’ve missed him so much, you need him so badly, you don’t think you could handle him holding back. You push yourself back against him, taking him deeper, trying to coax him into giving you what you want. 

“Fuck,” he curses, hips stuttering. “So desperate, yeah? This isn’t enough for you? You want more of my cock?” 

“God, yes, San, please—” you beg, and he gives you what you want. 

He grabs your hips with bruising force and slams himself into you, all the way to the hilt. His name is a scream on your lips as you meet each thrust, barely able to comprehend how good it feels. He’s so deep, he’s filling you so good and yet you still want more. You want to be sore in the morning, want the physical, lingering reminder of this moment. “More, more, fuck—” 

“You want it harder?” he asks, voice strained with exertion. 

You can’t find the strength to speak, so you simply whimper in response, your hands curling into fists against the door. You clench around him and he responds by picking up his pace, pounding into you relentlessly. You’re sweating, your whole body trembling, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes. He’s so much, you can feel him everywhere, and god, do you love him. His fingers dig into your hips, nails digging into your skin and leaving marks in the shape of crescent moons. 

“God, you take me so well, so fucking perfect, like you’re made for me.” His words slur together, as if he’s completely drunk on you. You wish you could see his face, see the flush on his skin, the way his eyebrows are surely pinched together and his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “My girl, my everything, I love you so much, shit—” he moans, thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his release.

You reach your climaxes simultaneously, San biting down on your shoulder as he comes. The pain sends a shock down your spine and you instinctively clench, making him whine at the sensitivity, yet he doesn’t pull out of you yet. He wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles the top of your head, leaving a few gentle kisses on your hair. You stay in his embrace, riding out the aftershocks, and isn’t until the both of you stop trembling that he finally steps away from you, leaving you feeling empty. 

You can feel his release begin to leak out of you and quickly sit on the toilet to pee and deal with the mess. As much as you would love to walk around filled with his cum, you don’t think it’s the smartest idea at the moment. San leans against the door and chuckles, fishing your thong out of his pocket. 

“I’m guessing you want this back, hm?”

Sarcastically, you respond, “Yeah, that’s helpful, thanks.” Standing, you flush the toilet and quickly grab it from him, putting it on and readjusting your dress. Then, you lean up, placing a kiss on his lips. “I love you a lot, you know that?”

“Mm, I don’t know. I might need to hear it a few hundred more times.” 

“Cheesy.” 

“I prefer romantic.”

“You’re such a dork,” you laugh, kissing him again. 

As much as you wish you could stay in this moment forever, you do have to leave this bathroom eventually. You place your hand on the lock, giving San a nervous look. “Ready to face the music?” 

He nods and, taking a deep breath, you open the door. When you step out of the stall, there are two women standing in front of the mirrors, fixing their makeup. They spot the two of you in the reflection and smile knowingly, whispering amongst themselves. Embarrassed, San pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck.

“We won’t say anything, dears,” the older of the two says, voice lilting. “I did my fair share of messing around when I was your age.”

The younger woman laughs, shaking her head. “But I do suggest the two of you get out of here before anyone else comes in.” Then, addressing San, she adds, “By the way, I’m a big fan. Though I can’t see I ever saw myself bumping into you in a woman’s restroom of all places.”

You take this opportunity to wash your hands, watching through the mirror as San bows his head slightly, ears red. “Oh, wow, thank you. Sorry for the… indecency, and thank you so much for your discretion.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Go on now, quickly.” 

“Thank you again,” you say, grabbing San’s hand and pulling him out of the bathroom behind you.

The two of you head back towards the bar, collapsing into two stools as you laugh with relief, feeling like two rowdy teenagers who got caught messing around. There’s a certain type of adrenaline rush that comes with this sort of thing, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t something you enjoyed. After all, no risk, no reward, right? 

San plays with your fingers mindlessly, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what do you say we cash out for the night and head back to the room for round two?”

“There is absolutely nothing I would want more.”

He laughs and brings your hand to his lips. “That’s my girl.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

I LOVEEEE your daemon angst!!!! MORE MORE MORE 😃😃

I'll Play The Fool Instead

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Summary: The king's younger brother was as insufferable as the rumors made him out to be. Having caught his eye at a feast, your instant reflex was to snarl your teeth at the prince, until you realized your parents were against the idea of him lingering around you. Ever since then, it was Daemon, you, and not at all secret rendezvous. Oh, and ser Harwin.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Bad parental relations, graphic mentions of physical violence and injuries, fem!reader, angst? i truly cant tell, typos, etc.

A/N: I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHY I MADE THIS SO LONG KILL ME NOW. ALSO ???? is it even angst i can't tell, can someone tell me i'm being fr right now Anyway, this was anon was most probably a responding to another ask i had where I said I wouldn't be continuing my angst fic called Doves, Snakes, Dragons, so you should go read that i guess, though it literally has nothing to do with this fic HAAHAH. also the title is a line from the english version of congratulations by day6

The first time I ever encountered the prince was during a feast where he said he liked the color of my dress.

"I like the color of your dress," a voice calls from behind me, making me and my lady friends halt our giggles and turn over to whom spoke.

My brow quirks and my grin falters into that of annoyance, "why thank you, Prince Daemon."

The prince's eyes rake my entire body up and down without shame.

I let out a barely amused chuckle, "I have not yet had a man compliment me in such a way."

He tilts his head, eyes finally locking into my hardened gaze, "what do they usually compliment?"

"My bosoms," I retort, crossing my arms, making the very area of my body push up at the action.

He breaks into a chuckle, and I half expect him to turn to my breasts, yet he does not look down, "the men around you would dare be so tactless?"

"I'm shocked that you're surprised by it," I say in uninterested tone. I give one last nod in regard then turn back to my friends, though obviously they had been watching my exchange with the prince and looked far more interested in it now than whatever it was we were previously talking about.

"Might I tempt you with a dance?"

I roll my eyes and make no attempt to turn to him, "no, but perhaps one of my dear friends would be interested," I look between the ladies then finally turn back to the prince.

With that, I give him a proper curtsy, "your grace," then walk away.

Daemon turns to the ladies.

"My prince-"

He walks off before she could continue.

"What was that?!" an aggressive mutter paired with an aggressive grip pulls me to the side before I can even make my way to the banquet table to pour myself a drink.

"What was what, mother?" I say releasing a deep sigh to calm myself, lest I blow up in front of everyone and be locked in my room as a consequence again.

"Were you entertaining the prince?!" she breathes heavily against my neck.

I roll my eyes, turning to her, "no mother," I pull my arm out of her grip, "I have no intention of-"

"Good," she releases, firm and relieved. She straightens herself up and fixes the already perfectly fixed hair on my head, "the prince acts like he is starved of attention and nothing but trouble nips at his heels. I will not have you associate with him as both your brothers would likely fall into hot water for it. Especially not when your father has already laid out a more suitable match for you."

My eyes widen, not that she would notice, since she was busy pampering me for no reason.

Her words make me scan the room for the very person she did not want to be around me. So very quickly, I spot the prince on the other side of the room, eyes already on me.

Prince Daemon's expression is stoic, and yet there is a slight curve in the corner of his lips.

"Now go," my mother says, forcing my head to look at her with her soft but heavy hand, "the Strongs await you."

My lips curl in distaste. My mother spins me around, facing me to the direction of my father, and pushes me off. I release a sigh and head to my old man beckoning me over. On my way, I look over my shoulder and find the prince's eyes have still not left me. I smile to myself.

"Lord Strong," I bow to whom I would assume was my potential match, "Lord Strong," I bow to whom was clearly his father, "Father," I give my father a sardonic smile.

He ignores this and pulls me under his arm, "finally, my daughter graces us with her presence."

"Tis a pleasure to finally see you face to face," the man my father's age speaks, "your father's stories do you no justice."

My father is displeased when I only return the man's words with a half smile, "thank Lord Lyonel for the compliment, daughter."

I turn to my father with the same smile still on my face, but Lord Lyonel cuts in, "no thanks is required, I'm merely telling you my thoughts."

The genuine tone of the man makes me turn to him and drop my fake smile.

"I can only assume then you are more temperate than what your father described."

I snort at that.

My father shifts next to me.

I break into a genuine smile, "Thank you, my Lord," I curtsy, "tis not often that I hear such genuine compliments."

"I do hope you allow my son to continue with the task," Lord Lyonel says, motioning to the man beside him.

"Harwin Strong, my lady," he introduces, reaching his hand out to me.

I take his hand, introducing myself, and find myself not utterly revolted when he kisses my skin.

After that, our fathers promptly leave us to our own devices. Harwin pours me a drink and leads me to a more quieter side of the room.

In all fairness, he was kind, funny, and an utter gentleman. He did not advance with his hand like other men would, nor did he press on topics I showed no interest in. I did enjoy our conversation, but I was too distracted by the silver haired prince that positioned himself conveniently right across us.

I giggle at Harwin's joke. He leans in as he shares in my laughter. His father and my parents, who were watching us intently, are utterly pleased with our exchange.

"I do not wish to cut our laughter short, but I fear I might piss myself if I do not relieve myself right this instant," Harwin says after his chuckles die down.

"Oh," I shake my head, "and here I thought of inviting you to a dance to prove how true your jests at being horrible at it are."

Harwin lets out an amused breath, "then I shall be quick about it and return to accompany you with my two left feet."

I nod, "I'll walk you then."

"There is no need, my la-"

"No, I think I shall ask the prince to be my partner in the meantime."

Harwin's grin falters and he instinctively turns to the man he had been acutely aware was staring the whole time.

Noticing his features dip, I look over to my parents and see that they looked utterly blissful now. How nice it would be if I changed that.

"I snubbed him a while ago," I mutter, making Harwin turn back to me, "I do think I should entertain him now while you are gone."

I half expect Harwin to repel the idea, but I am impressed at his composure as he nods, "as you wish."

And so we head over to the other side of the room.

On the way, he jokes again about his horrible dance moves and I let out a laugh. I feel my parents eyes hot on my back when we near the exit. Harwin gives me one last look before I break away from him and move over to the prince.

The Targaryen is fully amused when I walk in front of him.

"My prince," I curtsy.

He hums, "bored out of your mind, were you?"

I straighten up and chuckle at his words, "I think you witnessed how much I laughed at his words from here, just as I witnessed your intent gaze."

The curve on his lips does not falter, and yet I do not miss how his jaw tenses.

I hold back a laugh, "I have decided to rescind my rejection."

He chuckles, turning to his feet as he walks over to me, "and did your mother convince you otherwise?" He clicks his tongue once, "I'm afraid no one in this world has a face pretty enough for me to forgive conspirators who wish to leech off me for power."

Once he is before me, he lifts his eyes and burns me with his gaze.

I am excited by his attempt and give a smile in return, "contrarily, she piqued my interest when she ordered me to stay away from you."

The prince narrows his eyes upon hearing this.

"I am honestly shocked you are unaware of the impertinent eldest child of my house, who works tirelessly against her parents' wills."

The glint in his eyes brighten, "and why would she do such happy things?" he lifts his head interest.

"She is sick that her stupid younger brothers get to do what they want and she has to get married off for the benefit of her family."

He mock sighs, "pity."

"It would be if you don't allow me the satisfaction of maddening my parents," I purse my lips, "it is precisely for that reason that I am now eager to take you up on your offer."

Daemon takes a moment to measure my reaction. He tears his gaze from me, looking out to the room, finding, sure enough, two pairs of eyes were angrily staring back at him. He smirks, turning back to me, "an interesting turn of events."

"My mother said you were starved of attention," I note, immediately making him grunt in amusement. I continue, "and my parents' angry gaze is attention still."

Daemon places his hands behind him, tilting his head in thought. I mirror his actions. He chuckles breathily in response.

"Might I ask for your company the second time then?" he reaches is hand out.

I take it and pull him to the frolicking crowd without another word.

The second time I would encounter him was the day after, on my way to a tea party that was routinely held by the gardens of the palace.

"I heard you received quite an earful from your mother after the feast," the familiar voice speaks from behind me, "before ultimately being locked up in your room."

I look over my shoulder and behold the Targaryen prince. I stop in my tracks, making him do the same, "and where, pray tell, did you hear such a viscous rumor?"

Prince Daemon looks down at me due to his height. He has his hands behind him as he shifts on one leg. He looks much more princely now with the gardens in the background. Suddenly I wonder what he was doing here, since he's never attended the tea party before, and I was sure only the ladies and I would be here today.

"The servants talk" he mutters plainly, "and apparently your mother's rage is unmistakable."

I laugh heartily, "it is," then shake my head, "but do not worry. It is a custom in our house, and she only ever uses her words to wound me."

"Yes," he says, turning to the direction I was heading, leading us off, "I assumed as much when you told me how you revel in disobedience."

I smile to myself as I follow after him.

"There is a congregation of chatty ladies beyond the fence, correct?" he points forward.

"Indeed, my prince," I grin ear to ear, turning to him.

He turns to me with a knowing look, "how long do you think your sermon will be if I walk you there, hand in mine?"

I break into a laugh. Daemon turns away and follows suit. I grab his hand and take larger strides, "best not to think about it too much."

I do not hear the way Daemon chuckles as I make my way to the heart of the garden.

The very moment we arrive, it is clear the tea party is unlike the usual ones, as each lady is paired with a man, standing closely together in their own personal bubble.

"Oh, there she is," one of the ladies say, "and by the gods, in the hand of the prince."

The prince greets the scrutinizing gazes with a grin and leads me to the dining table that was mostly vacated.

I find my focus on ser Harwin, who was seated by the opposite side of the table, gazing tightly at Daemon, then speak "I was unaware we would be joined by the lords today."

"Clearly, my love," one of the ladies seated retorts before sipping on her cup.

"I am surprised you managed to drag the prince here," another adds, looking to our joined hands, "he digs his heels in the dirt every occasion I invite him."

I turn Daemon, who turns from Harwin, then to the woman who spoke, "I only thought it would be unbecoming if our lady walks all the way here by herself," his eyes take in mine, then presses a kiss on the back of my hand, "I shall leave you to your tea, then."

I curtsy at him as he pulls away.

"Ser Harwin," Daemon turns to the man glaring at him, "do take care of our lady."

I walk over to Lord Strong the moment the prince leaves. The ladies watch me and begin to gossip with each other.

He greets me, lips not missing a smirk.

I match his expression, "my Lord Strong."

"My lady," he stands beside me, "your mother did warn me you had a knack for theatrics."

"Hmm," I chuckle, "did she say theatrics or impertinence?"

Harwin chuckles, looking over his shoulder, deciding to lead me off to where we would not be heard so keenly, "no mother would dare speak so poorly of their child."

I snort as we walk over to the flowery part of the garden, "clearly you are not acquainted by my mother."

"Well," he raises a hand, "tis not your mother I wish to be acquainted with anyway," he picks a flower from a bush, "but her daughter."

I turn to the bright pink petals in his hand and take it in mine. Harwin smiles as I inhale the flowers scent.

Ever since then, whispers of me and the prince, and me and ser Harwin, would slowly trickle through court. It wouldn't take long for the mangled truth of us to reach the ears of my parents. And of course, for every time they told me to stay away from the king's brother, I would reach out to him more eagerly.

For every time they would arrange a meeting with Strong, I'd make sure the Targaryen would find an opportunity to butt in.

At a point, my parents stopped telling me about my premade meets with Harwin, and yet Daemon still managed to come around, to my delight and everyone else's annoyance.

It was clear to most onlookers that I was absolutely smitten with the prince after all our 'coincidental' meetings, and yet I was also extremely taken by how ceaselessly patient Harwin was by it all.

It was, I suppose, during our 20th meeting that a chord was actually struck. And as innocent I could say I was, for I truly did not know they would fight that day, perhaps I should have known they would, considering we were at a tourney after all.

"My lady," Harwin huffs, looking up at me with a grin. The horse he is mounted on is restless as it was only just galloping fiercely across the grounds moments ago. "Might I have your favor again?"

I smile down on him from the elevated stand as he points his lance at my direction.

My mother hands me a wreath and urges me off my seat. I walk over to ser Harwin and throw the ring of leaves to his undefeated weapon, "nine is a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Shall I withdraw at your command then, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I would not dare deny the crowds their dashing champion."

Harwin chuckles as the crowds roar at my words. He takes the wreath from his lance and hands it to the servant who places it with the rest of them, "then perhaps a last victory for an even 10."

"As you wish, my lord."

I retreat back to my seat and earn a pleased look from my mother. Her pleased look does not last when she hears the name of Harwin's next competitor.

My own jaw slacks at the sight of Daemon from the other side of the fighting ground. He was clad in thick, and flashy armor, and he seems to know exactly where my seat was, considering he was staring right at me as he strut his horse over. I have no idea why my mother thinks pinching my arm will make me close it and not open my mouth wider.

It doesn't take long for the two to ready on either side.

Without a seconds thought, the two opponents are now charging, bashing their beams on each other's shields. Their might seems to be an even match, as both their lances are crushed on impact.

The audience revels in the violence of the match. They crush their lances on each other twice more before, finally, Harwin is thrown off his horse.

I honestly was so shocked by the outcome that I jump out of my seat and lean against the rails gasping.

Daemon gallops and screams victoriously at the crowd who was celebrating their prince. His gaze meets mine and he rides over my direction at once. I cringe at the thought of him trampling on Harwin, who was writhing in the dirt, and mutter a prayer that the two do not go at each other with their swords.

I release a breath when Daemon passes Harwin, making no attempt to unmount his horse or continue the fight.

I hear my mother call out my name repeatedly but I ignore her as the prince is nigh over. I watch as Daemon points his lance at me, "I have spared your strong suitor a death in the tourney grounds," he makes his horse halt before me, "the least the fair lady can do is offer me the wreath meant for his tenth victory."

I release a chuckle and shake my head.

Daemon smirks as he looks up at me in expectation.

"Of course, my prince," I turn over, holding my hand out to my mother. She gives me a defiant look and I raise a brow in response, "the wreath mother."

She clenches her jaw.

I sigh, looking back out the stands, "can someone give me a wreath?"

Daemon catches my mothers gaze then drops the lance in his grip to the side. I turn back to him after, as he then commands his horse to stride forward.

Harwin finally stands from where he was on the dirt with the aid of his family servants.

"If you cannot grant me a wreath," Daemon calls, bringing his horse to the side, forcing me to lean into the railing so I could still see him.

The crowd goes wild. My mother grumbles my name.

Harwin watches as Daemon throws his helm and shifts on his steed, wobblily bringing his feet to his saddle attempting to stand.

I gasp when his hand reaches the rail and his head rises up near mine. His grin does not fade even after seeing my mother's furious expression from behind me.

"Perhaps a kiss then?"

The crowd goes wild.

My mother blinks rapidly, in pure disbelief. She is too stunned to move. She barks my name out in a warning, but I my heart is fluttering at the prince's boyish grin.

I do not hesitate and take his cheeks in my hand, bring my lips upon his. The crowd grows even wilder.

Harwin turns away as the crowd roars in approval.

Our 21st meeting is in the secrecy of midnight at the stables near my home.

I hear my name. I lift my gaze from the horse I was petting and find the prince's face as it twists at the sight of me.

"By the gods," Daemon mutters, hand springing to the side of my face. His eyes darken at the purple around my eye.

He does not find the same amusement I do when I speak, "I never thought they'd lay their hands on me like this. I used to pride myself in knowing only my younger brothers got the wrath of my father's hand."

"Your father did this to you?" Daemon practically growls.

"Apparently, my words amount to nothing now, as he is more convinced by the rumors of the servants that claim I am pregnant with your child."

Daemons brows tighten, "and what did your Harwin Strong have to say about this?"

"He has not seen me for days after the tourney, which is what angered my father to begin with."

He scoffs out a chuckle, "I underestimated how weak willed and spineless the ninnyhammer could be," Daemon pulls his hand away to brush my hair back, "clearly he should be called Harwin Cunt."

I roll my eyes, "he could have broken bones from your blow for all you know."

Daemon narrows his eyes at that, "I broke his fragile ego, surely," he shakes his head, "and you a bruising mine by guarding his name when he failed to guard you from your father's hand."

I chuckle before aimlessly walking off, "how brave of you to admit to the fragility of your ego." I look over to him as he walks by my side, "still, Harwin has done nothing but be patient with me and our schemes against my parents."

Daemon looks like he doesn't enjoy where this is going.

"I've accepted that he is to be my future husband. My father will stop at nothing to ensure it."

"No," he quips, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Daemon and I share a long look before her brings his hand up to ghost on the bruise on my face, "there would be no finer match between a lady of your stature and a prince like I."

"Hmp," I scoff, "except my father loathes you."

"Surely, he does not loathe the opportunity to rise next to the second highest seat in the realm."

I am unable to respond as he places his hand on my belly, "and making the rumors true would give him no choice but to comply."

The sincerity of his words make me raise my brows and shove him off. He chuckles.

I cross my arms, "I might be unruly, but I am still a lady."

Daemon chuckles as I continue, "if you wish to get me pregnant, you're going to have to get on one knee first."

I'm genuinely surprised how the prince invited himself to our house later that day. Of course, he was still the prince, and knowing his wildness, my parents did not dare to turn him away.

My father was rendered completely dumbstruck by the visit, and where my mother chastised me again later that night, he only watched our viscous exchange.

I sent word to Daemon about it swiftly, practically giggling in my letter at the idea that his visit broke my father.

I did not receive a response though, but I thought nothing of it because I knew I would see him soon enough.

And yet days would pass I wouldn't hear from him same as ser Harwin.

It would not have phased me as much as it did, but then my mother had taken her turn at beating me. With my father no longer present, since he was out of town to mend my proposal with ser Harwin, my mother readily took up the mantle as disciplinarian.

She was not like my father, who I knew immediately regret bringing his hand out to his only daughter; she used me to air out all her frustrations eagerly. She was worse than my father, since she made sure to hit me repeatedly with not her hand, but her cane in places that would not be visible.

It got to a point were the servants called a maester for me at one time. In fact, it got so bad that my younger brothers, who had always been scared shitless by our mother, finally stepped in to hold her back. They even told me to leave home until father returned.

You can bet that they didn't have to tell me twice.

And so having already prepared lodging for me, my brothers sent me off to the capital and told me not to return until they sent word of my father's arrival.

At this point, I had sent word to the prince, eager to take my mind off my aching body. I found it utterly out of character when I still did not receive a response. Thus, out of my own volition, I came to him.

"The servants told me you'd be here," I call, releasing a soft and relieved smile upon seeing the prince's silver-white hair reading a book by the weirwood tree.

He was sitting on a chair at a table set with snacks, not at all moving to turn to me at all.

"Is your story that intriguing that it's made you ignore me?"

Daemon finally turns to me, face hard, eyes uninterested.

The smile that I gave him fades when he stands and walks past me without a word.

I knit my brows as he strides away. I call for him when I am faced with his back, "Daemon, I-"

"It's your grace," he cuts, raising a finger as he turns back to me with a look of anger, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen."

I look at him as he clutches the book in his hand tightly.

"Your grace," I mutter softly.

"Yes," he snips, then slowly words out, "Lady Hightower."

My face contorts as I shake my head in confusion, "I do not understand. I am not-"

"No?" he adds blurts, "but your cunt of a father is The Hand, Otto Hightower's cousin, is he not?"

I step back when he steps towards me.

"This was all your elaborate mind fuck, wasn't it?" he chuckles dryly, "you even went as far to let your father strike you so that I would-"

"Daemon," I raise my hands, "I-"

"DO NOT ACT FAMILIAR!" he snarls, throwing his book forcefully off to my side. I heave sharply in fear and feel my pulse quicken as the prince accuses, "you are a deceptive wench, hellbent on climbing to the top, just as I knew you were from the start!"

I shiver, "and you are turning into my father that chose to strike me because of baseless rumors!" I whine, holding back tears as my lips wobbled.

Daemon turns away, laughing darkly, "oh, don't play the victim!" He turns back to me, chest rising and falling in anger, "I heard your father speak it to his conspiring cousin that he struck you so that I'd take notice."

Unable to even process the weight his words held if it were true, I just look at him with tears falling helplessly from my eyes.

"What say you now, bitch?" Daemon seethes.

"Daem-"

"DO NOT CALL ME BY MY NAME!" he shouts, taking my shoulders in his hands, shaking me in anger.

He was unaware of the bruises in my arms, which is why he shoves me back when I scream, what was to his ears, exaggeratedly.

I reel back at his strength, having none to repel it, and come crashing back to the table behind me. The unanticipated contact on the small of my back makes me coil in the most unsavory of ways. I knock a few plates on the floor.

There is a shooting pain that shakes all over my body. The searing sensation makes me drop to the floor where my hands land on a plate that breaks under the force of my weight.

Tears and whines rip out of throat as I pull my bloody hand away from the shards that cut me.

Daemon had not anticipated that to happen at all, and so he just stood there, stunned. He was so stunned, in fact, he didn't have the wits to look over his shoulder as someone screamed out and tackled him.

With intent to destroy, Harwin lunged on Daemon, pinning him down on the ground where he punched him twice before he halted after hearing the sound of pained whimpers.

Harwin looked over his shoulder to me, and shoved himself off of the prince that was writhing, dazed on the floor.

"My lady!" Harwin calls to me, offering his one hand out as the other goes to my shoulder. He makes tries to lift me to my feet, by I let out a pained cry that stops him from moving me any further.

Daemon props himself on his elbows upon hearing it.

"Apologies," Harwin says, "I-"

"No," I shudder in pain, "I-" tears fog my sight, "I don't think I can stand."

Harwin clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring, "I will have the prince answer to hi-"

"It's not him," I whine, finally managing to at least pull away from the broken glass on the floor with the dark haired man's aid, "it's- it's my mother," I choke out a cry, "she's enraged that you have not returned because I have upset you-"

"You have not upset me," Harwin calls, "not you."

Daemon finally has the brain to stand.

"Harwin, I- I can't-"

Without another word, Harwin mutters that he will carry me to the maesters. I shake my head in disapproval, but he only hushes out apologies as he brings me to his arms.

Daemon catches a glimpse of what was underneath my skirt, discolored marks, unmistakably bruises.

I moan out in pain as Harwin cradles me in his arms. My hand darts to his face, but I pull back when I wipe blood on his cheek. I cry harder now, "I- Harwin-"

He looks down at me in his arms, hushing me as he shakes his head.

Daemon runs off in a hurry to ready the maesters that were just a hall away. Harwin is shocked but relieved that the maesters have a bed prepared for me the moment we enter. He is angered to know it is because of the prince.

"The prince pushed her," Harwin speaks sharply, turning to the said man, as he sets me down on the bed.

The closest maester does nothing but come towards me to attend to my bloody hands.

"She has bruises on her legs," Daemon says, making both Harwin and the maester turn to him. The former clenches his jaw tightly, anger doubling when my legs are examined by a separate maester.

He doesn't have to say it, but the maester speaks what both men already figured, "the lady was probably hit by a stick of sorts."

Daemon heaves in anger. Harwin twitches at the prince's reaction.

The maester asks me to describe the pain I'm feeling, and I explain it to him, adding I collided against a table but then also the fact that my mother hit me with a cane on my back on an occasion where I ran from her.

The maester gives me something for the pain.

Upon drinking it, I look between Harwin and Daemon who were both angry and distraught. My face was still glazed with tears when I muttered, "please, don't take me back home, I beg of you."

The two of them move to speak, but Harwin is who is heard, "I will take you to my residence."

Daemon scoffs, "she will stay here," he throws Harwin a dirty look, "with the company of the best maesters."

"What so you can fucking push her from the top of the tower next?"

Daemon rages over to Harwin, but my squeaking command for them to stop proves to be effective.

Daemon turns to me, but I am too focused on Harwin to care, "my father said he went to you to convince you to take me back."

Harwin knits his brows.

"How could he when he's here, conspiring with Otto Hightower?" Daemon retorts in a sour tone.

Harwin ignores him and walks over to me, kneeling by the side of my bed, "he came to me, saying that you were ashamed to face me after the tourney and told me to patient for your call."

I cannot believe what I am hearing.

I break into a fit of tears, screwing my eyes shut in disbelief, "Harwin, I've been waiting for you to come to me so that I-" I bite my lip and shake my head, "when I realized you weren't coming, I thought my only hope of relief from my mother's hand would be when my father returns home."

Harwin sighs, as I repeat, "please, don't send me back."

Moving closer to me after the maester finished wrapping my wound, he mutters, "I will not allow another soul hurt my bride."

Both I and Daemon freeze upon hearing that.

Harwin pulls the ring from his finger and fiddles with it for a moment, "I agreed to my father's plans to wed you the moment I saw you, my lady."

He slips the ring on my finger, making my breath hitch.

"Harwin," I start and make a move to sit up, but there is again a blinding pain that shoots down my spine that forces me to screw my eyes shut and yelp.

He places a gentle hand on my arm, barely ghosting on my skin, hushing me yet like he has been since he carried me.

When I open my eyes, my gaze darts over to the prince, but I find that he is no longer here.

My line of sight drifts back down to the man before me, and I only have the strength to reply to him with a sad smile.

[weemssapphic]

love ur writing! could you write something for brienne where she gets jealous/ insecure/ sad over trader spending time with other people who have a crush on her - feel free to do whatever you want with it

A/N: hi hello thank you for the compliment and the request! i feel the need to apologize profusely for how long this took me - i changed the plot like 10x along the way and getting it to flow gave me a lot of Grief hahaha. however i am finally happy with the end product and i did adore writing for my babygirl brienne. i hope you're not too upset <3

plot: You are Brienne’s closest friend, and friends don’t develop feelings for each other. They definitely don’t get jealous when their friend dances with someone else. Nope.

From The Moment We Met

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

words: ~6.3k (big OOPS) | ao3 link in title

content/warnings: jealousy, slight angst, feelings confession, pining, mentions of alcohol and being tipsy, eventual smut (thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering), bits of fluff sprinkled throughout

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Brienne of Tarth didn’t know what to make of you. 

She was used to people taunting her - men calling her foul names, women gossiping about her. She was used to people challenging her, questioning her, attempting to overpower her.

What she wasn’t used to was women who beamed up at her with megawatt smiles and kind eyes, who held her hand as if it were the most normal thing in the world, who requested her company for even the most mundane of errands. 

Women like you - currently strolling into town, arm looped tightly around her own, greeting every person who’d pass by the two of you and introducing them to your friend Brienne. It was enough to fluster Brienne, who simply smiled politely and nodded at the various townspeople, less concerned with remembering their names and more preoccupied with the way your eyes crinkled at the outer corners when you offered them a smile, the genuine care in your voice when you asked how their families were doing.

The two of you reached the market, bustling with people, and suddenly Brienne felt a warm hand clasp her own. Almost as a reflex she attempted to pull away, but your grip tightened and you smiled warmly up at her. She felt her stomach flip pleasantly as she hesitantly returned the smile.

“I don’t want to lose you in the crowd,” you reasoned, and Brienne could have scoffed at that - towering above most of the townspeople, there was almost no way you’d be able to lose sight of her in even the thickest crowd. But the way your small hand fitted so perfectly in her own, the way you looked up at her with wide eyes, as if completely unaware of her beastly presence that she’d been so often tormented for, made her think better of it. Instead, her lips quirked up almost involuntarily into a half-smile and she nodded for you to lead the way.

You held onto her hand the entire visit, only briefly letting go to pay for some bread and some fruit and tuck it into your bag, then grabbing hold of it again. Her skin tingled where it met yours and her stomach filled with warmth as she allowed herself to be guided back through the narrow streets, up to your castle.

~~~

Holding Brienne’s hand felt so right. It was much larger than your own, sure, and slightly more calloused, but still decidedly feminine. Her long, slender fingers entangled between yours in a firm grip, the direct contact with her warm skin sending shivers down your spine. You much preferred holding her hand to anyone else’s, you thought with a smile.

When you reached the castle gardens, you tugged her gently towards a bench in a little alcove on the far side of the garden, shaded from the sun, then reached in your bag for the food you’d bought at the market.

“Help yourself,” you said, and Brienne gratefully took some of the bread, gently prying it apart with her fingers.

A silence fell upon you as you ate. You tried not to stare at Brienne, choosing instead to focus your attention on the gentle swaying of the flowers in the late summer breeze, though you found you couldn’t help yourself, involuntarily glancing over at her every so often. 

“Y/N?” Brienne’s voice cut through the silence.

“Yes?” You turned to face her, and found she was eyeing you curiously, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Forgive me for being so forward…” her voice trailed off.

“You may ask me anything you like, Brienne.” You shifted in your seat in an inconspicuous attempt to get closer to her, curious at what she could possibly want to ask that had her so on edge.

“You’re a bit… old, not to have found a suitor yet. I wondered why that is. Are the men who have courted you not your liking?” Brienne’s gaze pierced your own, her expression guarded.

You laughed - usually you’d avoided talking of suitors and courtships, so you thought it funny for Brienne to bring it up now.

“I could ask you the same thing. Are you not also a Lady who has yet to be married off, at your age?” You made sure to keep your voice light and teasing, watching Brienne carefully. It was because of this that you didn’t miss the way her face fell.

“It should be quite obvious why I haven’t found a suitable man,” she spat out bitterly. She hesitated for a moment, her voice softening at her next words. “The same cannot be said for a proper Lady such as yourself.” 

“It isn’t obvious to me,” you countered quickly, arching an eyebrow at the blonde, whose eyes widened. You could not for the life of you fathom how Brienne hadn’t yet been swept off her feet - sure, she wasn’t the most feminine woman you’d ever come across, but you found her extremely attractive nonetheless. How no one else could see that was beyond you.

Her incredulous gaze spurred you on. “I find you rather dashing, and anyone should be lucky to have you. If you haven’t been properly courted, then it should be through no fault of your own, Lady Brienne.”

The woman next to you was quickly turning scarlet at your words. 

“Anyway, my father thinks if he keeps throwing men at me, one of them will catch my eye,” you continued. “I don’t think that’s the case.” It was true - your father had been forcing you into courtships for as long as you could remember, and his disappointment when you - once again - declared another young lord thoroughly ill-suited was palpable.

Brienne cleared her throat, eyes darting around the gardens, unable to meet your gaze. “Surely one of those men must be suitable.”

“I don’t think any man is suitable,” you said confidently. Brienne glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, and you held her gaze.

Please understand me, you pleaded internally. 

“Don’t you yearn for the company of another? Do you really wish to spend the rest of your life alone?” Brienne furrowed her brows in confusion, lips pulled down into a soft frown.

You sighed, realizing you needed to be more direct.

“Of course I yearn, Brienne. I would love to share my life with someone. I just don’t wish for that someone to be a man.”

A myriad of emotions flashed across Brienne’s face in real time until, finally, comprehension dawned on her. Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline, lips parting slightly. 

“Oh,” she let out a breath.

“Oh,” you teased, chuckling at her reaction to your admission. You placed a hand on her knee, testing the waters, pleased when she didn’t pull away.

“Would you like to come to the tavern with me tonight, Brienne?” 

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as you waited for a reply from the flummoxed blonde.

When she finally spoke, her voice was slightly hoarse. “Of course.”

~~~

Brienne was waiting for you at the castle gates that evening, clad in some of her lighter, more simple armor. She offered her arm to you as you approached and you beamed up at her, receiving a small, almost timid smile in return. 

Your fingers grazed over her chest plate. “Is armor really necessary tonight, Ser?” you teased, pleased with the way Brienne’s cheeks went pink.

“I didn’t want to be late by changing, my lady,” she replied softly. “My duties kept me quite busy this afternoon.”

“I tease, Brienne,” you grinned up at her. “Are you ready to go?”

Brienne nodded sheepishly.

You looped your arm around hers and the two of you set off towards town.

In the tavern you ordered ale for yourself and Brienne and settled next to her, closer than you normally would have - closer than you would have, had you not had that conversation with her in the gardens earlier. 

Your thigh pressed against Brienne’s and you turned in your seat, half-facing her, so that you could admire her fully. Brienne’s cheeks warmed under your gaze, and you decided right then and there that making Brienne of Tarth blush might be your favorite pastime in the world.

Both the conversation and the drink flowed freely as the night went on, and you were becoming quite tipsy. There was music being played, and the atmosphere was becoming more and more boisterous as patrons were getting up to dance, igniting a giddy excitement within you.

“I think I’m going to dance,” you announced, grinning up at Brienne, squeezing her arm.

Brienne smiled giddily at you, your energy proving to be infectious.

“Would you like to join me?” You prayed she would say yes, imagining how it would feel to have her body pressed against yours, to show everyone in the tavern that you were dancing with the Brienne of Tarth.

“I- I don’t think so, my lady.” Her cheeks turned rosy and she glanced nervously around the dimly-lit room.

Though you could understand the hesitation, your stomach dropped a bit nonetheless.

“Then watch me,” you replied, getting up and beginning to sway to the music until you found your rhythm. 

Brienne’s eyes were glued to your body, unable to tear themselves away from the sway of your hips. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the feeling of Brienne’s gaze upon you, but you felt truly free in that moment, confidence bubbling up within you.

You felt someone tap on your shoulder and stilled momentarily, turning to face whomever had interrupted your dancing. 

“Care to dance with me?” the woman asked, holding out a hand. You smiled at her, nodding excitedly. It was so much more fun dancing with someone else than it was alone, and the mood in the tavern was infectious.

You didn’t think twice about it when the woman’s hands landed on your hips, pulling you closer to avoid bumping into the other patrons as you danced to the beat of the music, losing yourself in the rhythm.

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, Brienne’s insides grew cold at the odd familiarity of the touch, the warmth of the smile spreading across your face, though she herself could not yet quite pinpoint the reason for her own sense of inner turmoil. It’s not like she could stake any claim over you. You were not hers, you were not anyones. And yet she found herself yearning for that soft smile to be directed at herself, for it to be her hands resting on your hips. 

Brienne was not one to yearn, not usually, yet she couldn’t help the wave of sadness that crashed over her entire being as she watched the woman lean over and whisper something in your ear, something that made you laugh. The woman, who was small and beautiful, who had the confidence to ask you to dance, who was everything Brienne could have been if she hadn’t been born in this wretched body; not a lady, nor a knight, but something in between - something far too beastly to catch the eye of a beautiful lady.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, practically bathing in self-pity and loathing, as she watched you place your arms on the woman’s shoulders, as she watched the woman’s grip on your waist tighten, until it finally became too much to bear and she had to look away.

~~~

You could sense something was off when you left the tavern. Usually, Brienne walked so close to you that you could hold her hand if you wanted to. Now, there seemed to be miles between you.

“Brienne?” you started tentatively, chancing a glance at the blonde who stared straight ahead, lips turned down in a frown, gaze stony.

“Hmm?”

“Is something wrong? Did something happen?” You attempted to close the gap between the two of you, but Brienne pulled away.

“Not at all.” Brienne’s reply was curt, her tone clipped and professional, much like when you’d first met, before you’d become friends. Her change in mood was sobering for you, dulling your excitement.

“Did you not enjoy yourself?” You eyed her carefully, noticing how her brow furrowed.

“I enjoyed myself plenty,” Brienne gritted out.

You searched her face for any hint of emotion other than annoyance, but came up empty. With a sigh, you turned your back to her and continued the walk up to your castle. Brienne’s heavy footfalls followed you all the way to the castle gates. 

“I don’t suppose you’d like to come in?” You gave the blonde your best puppy dog eyes, praying she would take the bait. After an evening out amongst crowds of people, you craved the solace that Brienne’s company provided more than she could ever know. The apologetic smile that was creeping its way onto her face, however, made your stomach clench.

“Not tonight. I think we should both get some sleep.”

You frowned. “If you wish. Goodnight, then, Brienne.” You stared into her eyes for a moment longer, then, without thinking, brought your lips to her cheek. When you pulled back, you could see she’d gone pink.

Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and disappeared behind the castle gates. If Brienne could be childish and avoid talking about what was bothering her, then so could you, you thought, your heart heavy as you left Brienne behind.

~~~

Brienne stood rooted to the spot for longer than she cared to admit, mind dazed.

Back in her chambers that night, her fingers trembled as she removed her armor. “Bloody ridiculous,” she murmured into the silence of her room as she fumbled with the straps of her shoulder plate. Brienne of fucking Tarth didn’t struggle with this sort of thing. Brienne of fucking Tarth was independent, self-sufficient. She’d removed her own armor every damn day since she could remember. And yet here she was, reduced to a trembling mess because of some woman. Worse, still, picturing this woman’s small, nimble hands covering her own, helping her remove her armor piece by piece. Then, perhaps, removing her clothing…

But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t proper for her to think of you in such a way, to want your lips to graze her own, or your fingers to touch her in places she’d never been touched by anyone else. She’d found herself thinking about this more often as of late, even allowing herself to succumb to her own desires and pleasure herself, moaning your name in the darkness of her chambers as she tipped over the edge.

Brienne had never met anyone as kind as you. Not just to her - to everyone. Your compassion extended to every being you came across, your face lit up every time you’d speak with someone - even exchanging the most boring of pleasantries seemed terribly important to you. But there was something in the way you’d hold Brienne’s gaze, the way you’d tug at her arm when the two of you were walking together, the way your face would light up like a sunrise when she’d come to visit you, that had Brienne hoping she could be someone special to you - particularly now, after what you’d admitted to her in the gardens.

And you’d kissed her - on the cheek, but still. That had to count for something, right? But it wasn’t her who had danced with you. It wasn’t her who had held you. You’d seemed to like that, to lean into her touch, to come alive as you danced with that woman.

Brienne felt the same wave of sadness wash over her that she’d felt back in the tavern, watching you dance with another. Now that she was alone, hot tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She was so close to everything she wanted, yet it felt so unattainable. It didn’t matter. You could never feel anything for her - this night had proven that. 

Loneliness clawed at her chest as she finished removing her armor before slinking into bed and hugging her knees to her chest, stomach churning as she tried, unsuccessfully, to think of something, anything, but you.

~~~

The following day, Brienne’s duties kept her away from you until evening. When she called on you in your chambers after supper, there was an awkward silence hanging in the air between the two of you as she stood at your door. You wondered who would crack first.

Finally, Brienne spoke. “I apologize if I ruined your evening yesterday. It was not my intention to sour the mood.” Her tone was laced with regret, her eyes unable to fully meet yours.

You breathed out a sigh. “It’s alright. You didn’t ruin my evening, you never could,” you said softly, and Brienne looked at you curiously. 

Another tense silence followed.

“Brienne?”

“Yes?”

“I was hoping you’d like to join me for a while tonight? I really missed your company last night.” 

“I’m sorry for disappointing you, my lady. I… I would love to join you tonight.”

You nearly squealed in delight, opening the door to your chambers and beckoning Brienne to come in. Her gaze swept over your room, landing on your vanity. In a few short strides she had crossed the room and was examining the potions and powders strewn across the little table.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” you worried your lip between your teeth, rushing to join Brienne. “Let me just clean this up.”

You busied yourself arranging the bottles neatly and putting the powders away in the vanity’s drawer. Brienne picked up one of the bottles, examining it carefully.

“What’s this one?” She looked at you in question and you couldn’t help but grin as a plan formed in your mind.

“Brienne?” Your voice was hesitant, but there was excitement and mischief swirling in your eyes, and the blonde felt her stomach flip. “I could tell you… or I could show you.” 

Soft little lines appeared between Brienne’s eyebrows as she mulled your words over in her head. “You don’t mean…?”

“I could do your makeup? But only if you want!” You looked at Brienne with pleading eyes and watched a war of emotions break out on her face.

“I-I suppose…” 

You beamed at her, buzzing with excitement as you tugged at her arm, beckoning her to sit on the stool in front of the vanity. She watched warily as you rummaged around for different sorts of potions and powders, before turning your eyes to her and regarding her carefully.

There was a particular scar just above her lip that your eyes got stuck on for a moment. You traced its path, committing it to memory. You didn’t know why, but it seemed terribly important that you remembered exactly how that scar looked in the soft evening light, as Brienne sat before you, waiting for you to begin. Oh. Your eyes snapped back to her own, which watched you questioningly.

“Now, close your eyes and hold still. No peeking until I’m done.” Brienne closed her eyes reluctantly and allowed you to take hold of her chin. You felt her shiver beneath your touch, and it brought a smirk to your face.

Brienne’s skin, despite being slightly scarred from battles, was fairly smooth and clear, so you opted to start with dusting pink, powdery blush on her cheekbones. Brienne startled as the brush you used tickled her face, and you chuckled, holding her jaw firmly in place. 

Next came a dark kohl around her eyes, which you applied lightly and smudged with the tip of your finger. Brienne flinched with every touch, causing you to laugh. “Surely a skilled fighter such as yourself isn’t afraid of a tiny brush?” Brienne grumbled, but did her best to stay still after that.

“Can you part your lips for me?” Brienne did as she was told and you painted them red, trying to ignore the way her warm, shallow breaths washed over your face, the fact that her lips were so close to yours, so easy to claim with your own.

You pulled back to admire your masterpiece.

“You can look,” you said, almost shyly, nervous what Brienne might think. She blinked her eyes open and looked in the mirror. Her face was unreadable for a moment as she tilted her head every which way, scrutinizing her own appearance.

“Well?” You waited with bated breath.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like it…” Brienne started slowly, brow furrowing.

“But you don’t like it?” You bit your lip.

“I… I’ve never worn makeup before. As a girl I was too young and as a woman, well…” Brienne chuckled darkly, turning her face away from the mirror, away from you, but not before you could see the tell-tale sign of unshed tears glazing over her irises.

“Do you want me to take it off?”

“Please,” Brienne murmured, clearing her throat and glancing up at the ceiling as if willing her tears to get back into her head.

You fetched a clean rag and wet it in the basin in the corner of your room before kneeling before Brienne and gently stroking it over her face, wiping away all traces of your artistry.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. 

“Don’t be.” You set the rag down and took her hand in your own, thumb stroking gently over the backs of her knuckles as you looked into her eyes. “I think you’re beautiful. With and especially without the makeup, I might add.”

Brienne scoffed in disbelief. “When I was a girl, my father held a ball. I’m his only living child so he wanted to make a good match for me.” She smiled wistfully and you squeezed her hand, urging her to continue. 

“He invited dozens of young lords to Tarth. I didn’t want to go but he dragged me to the ballroom. And it was wonderful. None of the boys noticed how mulish and tall I was. They shoved each other and threatened to duel when they thought it was their turn to dance. They whispered in my ear about how they wanted to marry me and take me back to their castles. My father smiled at me and I smiled at him. I’d never been so happy… Till I saw a few of the boys sniggering, and then they all started to laugh. They couldn’t keep the game going any longer. They were toying with me.”

The bitterness in her voice, the heartbreak written plainly on her face, cracked your heart cleanly in two.

“‘Brienne the Beauty’ they called me. And I realized I was the ugliest girl alive. A great, lumbering beast.”

You stood, rounding the stool Brienne sat on until you stood behind her. She tracked your movements in the mirror, face sullen. 

“Lady Brienne of Tarth,” you began, ignoring the heavy sigh Brienne let out at your use of the formal title. “You are a beauty in the truest sense. The most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.” You placed a hand on her cheek and gently coaxed her into looking in the mirror. 

“Look at you. The bluest eyes in all of Westeros, brighter than the seas surrounding the Sapphire Isle you call home.” You met her gaze, aware of the fact that she had gone pink and feeling your cheeks heat as well.

“Hair spun from gold,” you continued, carding your hands through her hair. “So soft, so beautiful in the way it frames your perfect cheekbones.” You rubbed your thumb across her cheeks, which were warm under your touch.

“The loveliest lips.” You let out a sigh as your thumb traced the curve of her jaw, brushing against her lower lip. 

A beat. 

A moment where everything slowed.

You leaned down, as if pulled by some invisible force, towards a stunned Brienne, your lips grazing against hers. They were just as warm, just as soft as you’d imagined them to be.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your breaths mingling. 

Another beat.

You pulled back as you waited for Brienne to catch up to you.

“Don’t be,” came her breathy reply.

You stared at each other for a moment, all the air sucked out of the room. Your heart was hammering erratically in your chest, pounding against your ribcage. 

“May I kiss you again?” You licked your lips, already leaning in.

“What about the woman in the tavern?” Brienne could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

“What about her?” You furrowed your brows, not quite following Brienne’s train of thought.

“You… seemed to really enjoy yourself.” She tried not to sound accusatory. Based on the utter confusion written on your face, Brienne realized she must sound ridiculous now, but she had to be sure of your intentions.

“Oh. It… was more about the dancing than the person, Brienne.” You hesitated, eyes wide, silently pleading with her to understand. “I would much have preferred it if it had been you.”

Brienne deliberated for a moment, eyes darting between yours. She seemed to have made up her mind for she lunged forward, lips crashing needily into yours. You moaned when her tongue swiped against the seam of your lips, parting them to allow her entry.

Your hands came up to her hair and you threaded your fingers in the golden locks, pulling her closer by the hair. The whimper that she let out shot straight to your core, a desperate heat traveling throughout all of your limbs.

Large, calloused hands gripped your waist, hard enough to leave bruises. Brienne pulled you down to straddle her lap, your front coming flush against the chest plate of her armor.

When you parted for a moment to catch your breaths, you gazed into Brienne’s eyes, your breath hitching in your chest at the overwhelming lust you were met with.

Testing the waters, you shifted your hips so that your core was pressing into one of her thighs and ground down. A breathy sigh tumbled from your lips at the newly-found friction on your aching clit. Brienne stifled a groan, capturing your lips with hers once more and flexing her thigh instinctively against your sex.

“Brienne… I need you,” you whispered between kisses, hand settling at the nape of her neck.

She pulled back slightly, eyes darting between yours. “I haven’t actually done this before,” she muttered breathlessly, face unreadable.

You couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto your face. “I haven’t either,” you confessed, cupping her cheek with your hand and tracing her lower lip with your thumb. You pulled at her lip, dragging it down, letting go and watching it snap back into place.

Everything was still for a moment as your breaths mingled. Finally, Brienne spoke, her voice gravelly with desire.

“I need you, too.”

You surged forward to claim her lips, rolling your hips against her thigh as a wave of wetness pooled between your legs at the low timbre of her voice.

“Can I see you?” you asked shyly, fingers playing with the straps of her armor. Her eyes widened a fraction and she nodded, a heavy flush overtaking her face as she brought her fingers up to the very straps you were playing with, brushing against your skin.

“I want to help,” you giggled, your fingers working in time with hers to remove each piece of armor, until only her soft underclothes remained. 

You reconnected your lips, pushing yourself into her and moaning as you felt Brienne flush against you, free from the hard, restrictive armor she usually wore.

Brienne’s hands cupped your ass and you yelped as she lifted you off the ground, wrapping your legs around her torso. She strode over to the bed and set you down, leaning over you, her lips never leaving yours. 

“These too?” you murmured, fingers brushing against the hem of her shirt before your hand disappeared underneath it, fingertips dancing across her bare stomach. Brienne pulled back, breathing labored.

You watched Brienne undress, drool practically pooling in your mouth as she exposed her bare skin bit by bit. You were struck by the rippling of her muscles as she removed her clothing, the little freckles on her shoulders, the scars and marks adorning her flesh from battles past. All of these little details you’d never been privy to before, when she was heavily clad in armor. She was even more breathtaking than you could have imagined.

You were suddenly itching to get out of your own dress, to feel her bare skin pressed against yours, and you rushed almost clumsily to slip out of the dress, causing Brienne to suppress a giggle.

“Stop laughing at me and come here,” you pouted, holding out your arms for the taller woman, who settled down next to you.

You pulled her in for a languid kiss, your palms tingling where they rested on the bare skin of her waist. You sucked Brienne’s bottom lip in between your own lips, sucking gently before biting down, dragging her lip between your teeth.

Brienne let out a strangled moan, her hands coming to rest on your hips and dragging you closer. Her skin was deliciously warm pressing against your own and you were overcome with the strongest urge to absolutely devour her. 

You placed a plethora of kisses down her throat, down her sternum, before reaching the soft, pillowy flesh of her breasts.

“May I?” You licked your lips and glanced up at Brienne, who gazed down at you, eyes dark with lust. “Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, her confirmation morphing into a whimper as you closed your lips around a rosy nipple, flicking your tongue over the bud and feeling it harden under your ministrations. You moved to her right breast, soothing your tongue over her other nipple until it hardened as well.

Moving lower, your kisses trailed down her stomach. You were fascinated with the way her back began to arch, with the trail of goosebumps erupting wherever your lips met her skin.

You settled between her legs, nudging them apart, hit suddenly with the heavy scent of her arousal which glistened between her folds. You placed a tentative kiss to her mound, nuzzling your nose into the blonde patch of hair at the apex of her thighs, breathing in her scent as your core tightened and a wetness pooled between your own thighs.

You kissed your way down, bypassing her clit and wasting no time in running your tongue through her folds, getting a taste of her. Your groan vibrated against her pussy, causing Brienne to buck her hips up as she whispered a soft “please”, begging to have you where she needed you most.

Your tongue found her clit and you began to draw lazy circles around the bundle of nerves, pleased with the breathy moans you were able to draw from the blonde’s throat.

“You taste so good,” you panted, looping your arms temporarily around her thighs to pull them over your shoulders, giving you better access to her pussy. You switched between licking and sucking her clit, seeing which reactions you could draw from Brienne as her moans grew louder, filthier, and the bucking of her hips became more erratic.

While your tongue ravished the sensitive nub, your fingers began to trace her slit, teasing her entrance. You slipped one finger inside her, surprised at how her walls clenched almost immediately around the digit. You added a second finger, slowly beginning to curl them. Your fingers hit a soft, spongy spot, and you smirked at the groan that slipped past Brienne’s lips.

With every thrust and curl of your fingers, you could feel her thighs tremble more and more, and you blindly reached your free hand out, searching until you felt her hand underneath yours, gripping at the bedsheets for dear life. You freed her hand from its iron grip on the sheets and tangled your fingers between her own, squeezing gently in reassurance. She squeezed back and suddenly her thighs tightened around your head, muffling her cries as you felt her excitement leak out of her and drip down your hand. 

Brienne clenched around your fingers as she writhed beneath you, and you continued to pump in and out of her as best you could as she rode out her high. Once her thighs loosened their grip on your head and her hips had mostly stilled, you began to lap up her arousal, cleaning off her folds and her thighs before crawling up to meet her in a sensual kiss.

Her breathing was labored as she wrapped her arms around you, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. 

“Was that alright?” you asked, running your fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss to her hairline.

You felt her nod against your shoulder, a contented sigh passing her lips, her breath washing over your skin. The heat between your legs was growing with each second that Brienne’s fingers traced soft patterns on your hip and you pressed your thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. Of course Brienne noticed this, stilling in her ministrations against your hip and gazing up at you through blonde lashes. 

Her fingers danced across your skin, moving lower until they brushed against your thigh. You gasped as her fingers found your slick - you’d touched yourself before, of course, but nothing could compare to the way Brienne’s long fingers were grazing against your folds, the way the pad of her thumb began to rub gently over your clit. It felt ten times better than anything you’d ever done to yourself.

Brienne’s lips found the pulse point on your neck and she began to suck, gently at first, then more insistently, until it was almost painful. Then her tongue darted out, warm and velvety, soothing over the spot she’d just marked. 

Her fingers brushed against your entrance and you bucked your hips up to meet her just as she slipped two fingers inside, causing you to cry out. 

“Does that feel okay?” Brienne’s voice, thick with lust as it was, was laced with a tinge of worry, and sapphire eyes sought yours. You smiled at her, thrusting your hips into her hand as you nodded eagerly.

“Y-yes,” you panted out. “You can- go- deeper.” Your words were cut off by your own moans as Brienne’s fingers curled inside of you, and she took your word for it, thrusting in.

Brienne’s fingers were long and slender, and they somehow expertly managed to hit every nerve-ending inside of you. You could hardly believe it was her first time pleasing a woman - or maybe you were simply that desperate for her, that she could unravel you within minutes, no matter how she touched you. No, you thought as she began to pump her fingers faster, the heel of her palm pressing into your aching clit. She’s definitely just that skilled.

Your thighs began to tremble as every feverish ministration brought forth a pulsating pleasure that rippled through your entire body.

What nearly threw you over the edge was Brienne’s decision to latch onto your nipple, grazing it with her teeth. You let out a strangled moan, arching your back as she nipped and sucked at the hardened bud, her warm tongue soothing over it after every tiny bite.

Your walls clenching around her fingers as you finally came drew a moan from Brienne’s chest and she thrust deeper inside of you. You brought your hands to her head, nails scratching at her scalp as you pulled her, as gently as you could muster in your orgasmic haze, up towards your lips to kiss her.

She pulled her fingers out of you, careful to be slow and gentle, bringing them to her mouth and closing her lips around the digits. Her cheeks hollowed out as she sucked, never breaking eye contact - it was the most sensual thing you’d ever witnessed, sweetened by the soft whimpering noises she made as your taste hit her tongue.

As she released her fingers with a pop, you lifted a hand to her cheek, caressing the flushed skin. Brienne leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When she opened them again, you were struck by the tenderness of her gaze, your heart skipping a beat. You hoped Brienne would never stop looking at you like that.

“Let me clean you up,” she said, pushing herself off the bed and going to fetch a clean rag, wetting it in the basin in the corner of your room before coming to rest between your thighs. She dabbed gently at your sex and you hissed as she came in contact with your sensitive folds, your clit. “Sorry,” she murmured, careful to be even more gentle as she cleaned you up, before dropping the rag on the floor - a problem for another time.

You wiggled up the bed until you were comfortable, opening your arms to Brienne who crawled after you and settled by your side. She slung an arm across your waist, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin.

Your own fingers came up to your pulse point, touching the sore mark Brienne had left earlier. She cleared her throat nervously.

“I’m sorry… I wanted to mark you,” she whispered sheepishly. “I-I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“I think I’ve been yours from the moment we met,” you replied truthfully, smiling at the heavy blush that spread across Brienne’s cheeks.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as sleep threatened to claim you both. 

“Brienne?” you whispered.

“Yes?” Her voice was heavy with sleep, you could tell she was fighting to keep herself awake.

“Will you stay the night?” Your nervousness must have been evident in your voice, for Brienne’s lips were upon yours in a second, her arm tightening possessively around your waist.

“Of course, my lady. I would like nothing more.” 

You tucked your head under her chin, sighing contentedly as you felt Brienne’s breathing even out, becoming deeper, as her fingers stopped moving and her arm became heavier across your middle.

This was where you would like to spend eternity, you thought, as you snuggled closer to her. There was no one in the world whose arms you would rather be in.

x

huge shoutout to @afeatherformills as well as my girlfriend for helping me out with this and beta-ing <3