R who just randomly comes into her office and pulls Larissa’s chair back just so they can straddle her lap and take a nap while hiding in her neck, Larissa’s just amused and finds it adorable.
BABEEEEE
hope this is okay :)
Comfort
Larissa weems x reader
Warnings: none
You tossed and turned, and still you couldn’t get comfortable. Grumbling under your breath as you moved out of the bedroom, you figured you might as well give the couch a try. Dragging your blanket behind you as you stumbled through the hall. There was only a few pillows that were something other than decoration, so you grabbed the nearest and plopped it down. Your head was pushed against the arm, and your feet were pushed upward by the other. Curling into yourself tried to find comfort in any kind of position. You hit the floor with a thud as you rolled yourself off of the stiff cushions.
Sitting up, you slowly blinked at the wall trying to gather any sense and energy to get up. Letting out a whine as you stretched, you could feel the exhaustion creeping it’s claws around you. Maybe if you called your girlfriend, she’d come home a little early. Having her with you, always seemed to put your mind at ease. Unplugging your phone from its charger, you dialed the number to her office. No answer. Try again.
“Hello, thank you for calling the office of Principal Larissa Weems. This is Callie, how can I help?”
Her ebullient nature was nothing more than a facade. She may sound sweet, but she was as bitter and bitchy as they came. You really didn’t know how Larissa still kept her on as her assistant.
“Hey Callie, hope you’re well! May I speak to Principal Weems, please?” God, it stung having to be so kind to her. If only your girlfriend knew how that woman spoke to you.
“Ohh…she’s really busy right now. She has documents she has to finish signing,” you could practically hear the faux smile dripping in her tone. “I can go ahead and tell her you called though. It’s Y/N, right? How sweet.”
Before you could get another word in, the call was ended. Despondent, you couldn’t help the tears that made their way down your cheeks. All you wanted was to be held. You didn’t care if you’d have to push through her bitch of an assistant, you were a determined person and your girlfriend knew it.
You didn’t even look at your shoes as you slid them on. Pulling your head through one of Larissa’s old Nevermore hoodies, you set on your way. Luckily, there weren’t very many students to weave through in the halls. You mentally mapped out a plan to best avoid, The Bitch. Either go down the path you were on now, or put on a fake mustache and say you’re a rich man, who wants to donate to the school. You were lacking both, in funds and in marvelous fake mustaches, so honestly, you really didn’t have any other way out.
Reaching the area where Larissa’s office was located, you spotted The Cactus Bitch. You slithered as close as you could to the door before being spotted. “Oh! Kid, have you any good reason to bother your principal?” She rolled her eyes as you turned around, “impertinent bitch,” you thought.
“She doesn’t care what a student comes to her for. She’s a lot of these kids safe place. If either one of us ever find out you turn a kid away, you won’t be apart of the staff here at Nevermore much longer,” No effort in concealing your true feelings towards her, you couldn’t care less if she complained. She folded her arms and moved back to her desk, without another word. You were beyond relieved that the cucumber looking bitch was out of your way.
Knocking on the door, as to be considerate of any potential company, you stood back and waited. “You may enter,” Larissa called. “Y/N, what a pleasant surprise! How I’ve missed you today,” she chimed, flashing her winning smile. You hadn’t spoken a word as you dragged your feet towards her. “Y/N?”
She was a little concerned as you moved behind her desk and grabbed a hold of her chair. Using what little strength you had, you tugged her chair back, “Woah! What are you doing, sweetheart?” Hearing the shock in her voice made you chuckle. You moved in front of her, tilted your head and pursed your lips in thought, before lifting her arms and climbing on top of her. “What are you- oh,” she wrapped her arms around your torso as she giggled at your adorable display. You shuffled around and finally…finally, you found the comfort that you had been so desperate to feel. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen asleep right then.
You nuzzled your head in the crook of her neck and stilled. Larissa began to rub soothing circles on your back before she asked, “are you quite alright, my pretty one?”
You sniffled and nodded in response. Still, she felt as if she needed to check further. Grabbing your chin and tilting your head up towards hers, you could see the moment she registered the exhaustion on your face. “Baby…you have two different shoes on,” she couldn’t help but laugh. You smiled and chuckled before your face morphed back into its sleepy position. She pouted and held your cheek before gently pushing your head back down to its previous place. “Rest, my love,” she whispered as she kissed the arch of your ear. She admired how peaceful you looked and she couldn’t explain how adorable this whole situation was. All she could do was squeeze you tighter and cherish the moment.
The scent of her perfume, the feeling of her heart beating against yours, and the sound of her gently pressing on the keys of her laptop, had all lulled you to sleep. It wasn’t until she shifted slightly, that you realized she was also humming the tune of your favorite song.
You don’t know if she knew you were awake again, but you couldn’t help the warmth that spread throughout you, as she whispered just how much she loved you.
Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader!OC
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Current Status: Incomplete & In Progress
Length: 8760+ words
Warnings: Approx. T-rated, some iffy language, little bit of violence
Chapters: [one], [two], [three], [four]
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Tags for those who seemed interested: @suckerforcatete @thoroughly--confused, @nocteangelus15 @another-unoriginal-usernameal- @readingtheentrailss @briennesslutlut, @pastanestest @moun-chanchan @coffeemelkolko, @diannekingng, @yuilesbnbn, @shadowgirl-vsb @weemssapphic @wasjustred
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Summary: A bard falls for Brienne.
But Brienne the Beauty, my heart did declare,
Surpassed counts and lords and kings debonair.
With stormy blue eyes and short cornsilk hair,
No doe-eyed damsel could ever compare.
Read in full below or select a chapter above!
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Chapter 1: Introductions
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Your act had no official name. Some called you ‘The Twin Bards of the Open Road’ and others ‘The Mirrored Minstrels,’ but both names had always seemed so gauche. In your head, you were simply Astrid and Altair. The only children born from the coupling of a singer and a merchant, you and your brother traveled from kingdom to kingdom, trading tales of grandeur and the gods for coin. Altair was the wordsmith, the poet, the keeper of stories, and the voice of your duo. You handled the melodies, the woodwinds and strings, and - most importantly - the looks.
Men are such simple things. Yes, a good song was worth a pretty penny, but attention from a charming young woman? That brought out the gold.
While Altair filled the ears of the audience, you filled their eyes. You would dance as you played, brushing past the men with fleeting little touches, twirling around so your skirts would lift away from your slender legs. A wink and a smile could keep a man’s attention for hours and loosen his pursestrings considerably.
Tonight, you played to a full house of knights and warriors, no doubt unwinding in the tavern after testing their mettle in the town’s arena. It was the only place of interest for miles around, and Altair seemed to spend all of his time there when you weren’t performing. ‘True men want to hear about battles!’ he always said, ‘Of local heroes and bloodshed, of fame and women won by the biggest and best!’ You much preferred songs about things beyond the scope of man - gods and ghosts, beasts and magic - but you were not the target audience.
As your fingers skipped along the holes of your flute, playing a silly birdsong of a melody, Altair sang of a jester who managed to outwit an entire royal court in order to win a princess’ hand in marriage. That’s when you spied him - a tall knight sitting alone in a darkened corner of the tavern. He was clean shaven and fair-haired, with a hint of boyishness still rounding out his cheeks. A lanky thing, probably tight and sinewy beneath well-tailored armor. When your song was complete, you sauntered over without a second thought.
“Hail, kind Ser, but don’t you look sad on your own!” you teased, gathering up your skirts and perching upon his table. The other men openly stared as you crossed your legs, adjusting the fabric in mock-demureness and shooting them a grin.
“I’m not a Ser,” the lonesome knight said in a voice too lovely for a man. Palm to cheek, knee propped on your elbow, you leaned in to look more closely at the knight’s face. You briefly wondered if he was a tall child before the realization hit you.
“I’m truly sorry, my lady.” A real smile crept to your face when she glanced away with rosy cheeks. How novel, a cherubic face on a soldier’s body! “I thought your kind only existed in fairy stories.”
“I am no lady either,” she insisted, eyes trained on the beams in the wall beside her. The bashful ones always tugged upon your heartstrings, no matter the gender. You tweaked her nose to get her attention - her glare was adorable.
“Well then, my titleless friend,” you said fondly. “Should you desire a song, do flag me down. It’ll be no charge, by the way. To enrapture such a rare soul will be its own reward.”
Her expression hardly budged, her lips pursed in a thin line, but did nod. So off you went, trailing a hand along the cool metal of her shoulder plates as you went back to the crowd to mingle with the other patrons. The men were in good spirits today - the ale flowed freely and they graciously tipped you. Their wandering hands and bawdy jokes remained blessedly mild, and you were even able to pocket a few extra coins down the front of your bodice when they weren’t looking. Still, your thoughts were glued to the woman in armor. What a life she must have led to become a guard or soldier.
When you mentioned her to Altair, he laughed heartily and grabbed his drum, saying he knew the perfect song to get your little crush to smile. It was brand new. He began to tap out a beat and you picked up your lute, plucking the strings in a vague melody to match.
“Twas a lord who sired a massive beast,
A massive beast, a massive beast,
He hoped for a son,
Or a daughter at least.
A daughter at least, a daughter at least..."
A jaunty little folk tale put to a tune, you figured. Barbarous Brienne, the song went on to warn, was an undefeated giantess with an ogre-like appearance who left a trail of blood and destruction anywhere she went. The creature could decimate an entire army on her own and the failed efforts of her enemies to slay her left the men in the tavern roaring with laughter. But your titleless friend? When you looked up to gauge her reaction, she had disappeared, her tankard still sitting upon the table.
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The next time you crossed paths with the warrior woman was at the local inn and bathhouse, a mere day later. You were soaking in the women’s bath, a glass of spiced wine in hand. It was still early - Altair still slobbering over fighters in the arena - and you had the bath to yourself. Your eyes were just beginning to drift shut when you felt the water shift around you. You peeked open an eye and an immediate wave of excitement crashed through you.
“Ah, it’s you!”
The woman sat opposite you, as far away as possible, her face set in an emotionless mask. A massive bruise bloomed across her shoulder in hues of purple and red. You lifted your glass and waded over to her side.
“I never got to play a song for you.” You sat an arm’s length away from her, noting how her knees were drawn up, just poking out above the water’s hazy surface. Her pale skin was flecked with freckles and scars. “I’m afraid my instruments don’t do well with heat or damp, so I didn’t think to build it.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“A woman of few words, I see.” You took a sip of wine. “I strove to be like that as a girl, but both my brother and I were cursed with the inability to keep our mouths shut. It would be a travesty, really, if it weren’t for our lifestyle. Would you like a drink, by the way? I’ve never felt shy in sharing a glass.”
“No, thank you.”
“Ah…” You chuckled self-consciously, taking another long drink before setting the glass behind you on the stone floor. “Understandable. After all, a woman in my line of work must seem rather… sullied, when compared to a brave knight. Which, as I recall, you said that you aren’t… But you fit the armor nonetheless. Does the non-knight have a different title? Or, perhaps, a name?”
“Is there a reason for this ceaseless torment?” she snapped, arms crossing over her chest. “Can I not rest for even a moment without someone insulting me?”
You reeled back as if slapped. No one had spoken to you so softly, not since you were a child getting caught for picking fights with your brother or stealing sweets from the market. Hands raised in a show of defenselessness, you softened your tone. “My apologies. I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done to offend you, but I’ve clearly crossed a line. I’ll take my leave, but not before I can put a name to the soul I’ve wounded.”
Her brow furrowed and her jaw tensed. You braced for an incoming strike, but instead, she took a sharp breath. “I don’t know why you want to drag this out. I’m Brienne of Tarth and you know it.”
Another shock. You rose carefully and took a step back, forgetting your current state of undress. You clapped a hand over your mouth to prevent anything stupid from coming out. It was a joke, surely. The killer look she gave you said otherwise. Slowly, you lowered your hand. “In exaggeration, right? A metaphor? Brienne of Tarth is just part of a silly story. A hideous creature that can tear the heads off bears and slaughter scores of men at once. You’re… You’re just some woman!”
She scowled at you, eyes bright with barely-contained rage.
“By the gods, you’re serious…” You sank back into the water, shaking your head as you tried in vain to collect your thoughts. “A mighty transgression indeed. You’re a better woman than I, not tearing out my tongue already. You have my sincerest apologies. I thought it was just some folk tale my brother brought back… What on Earth could you have done to make people spit such venom about you?”
“I’ve done nothing but survive,” she said bitterly, shifting to hug her knees. “I’m ugly and large and I beat the men at their own games, so I’ve been made a mockery of my whole life. This is nothing new.”
“And to think that I’ve considered my years of being called a useless whore harsh.” Your joking tone made your words sink like lead as soon as they escaped your lips. Clearing your throat, you tread on. “If I had known that the song was about a real person, I would have struck my brother down for suggesting it. There is no reason for such senseless cruelty in a world already so bleak. Please, consider me in your debt for the injustice towards you.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “You’re forgiven. Let’s not speak anymore on the subject.”
“I hear you.”
After a beat, you hauled yourself out of the water and smiled down at her. “I do still owe you a song though, and I’d like to buy you a drink, please. A gesture of goodwill. They bottle a delightful cider here. What do you say?”
She didn’t look at you, but she nodded.
It was the least you could do.
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When nightfall came, you walked with her back to the tavern. You kept yourself glued to her side, leaving the bath with her, dressing beside her, chatting whether she responded or not. You told her of your life and your travels, and she didn’t ask for you to leave. She kept her guard up, only offering a cold ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to any questions you posed. But still, it was a positive development.
“You’re late, Astrid,” your brother scolded the very moment you walked through the tavern’s doors. “We have a duty to perform, you know? We’re getting paid.”
“Brother dearest, you can always start without me,” you said, smiling with a cloying sweetness. “Pick up your drum and play, won’t you? We mustn’t wait any longer if we’re truly that late.”
Altair grumbled and stormed off, leaving you to beam up at Brienne.
“Do sit closer to the center tonight,” you urged. “If you don’t pick a song for us to play, at least let me sing to you. I’d like to make sure you’re enjoying the show.”
Brienne silently agreed, taking a seat at a table right beside where you’d normally play.
“What’s up with the creature that you’re fawning over?” Altair whispered as soon as you picked up your lute. “Don’t you usually go for someone a little more… attractive?”
“Another word and you’ll wake without a tongue,” you said, tuning your strings to the proper sound. “We’ll be discussing your sources for lyrics tonight, by the way.”
He arched an eyebrow and turned, slipping into his stage persona with ease as he sang about a lone soldier at war. You danced for the men as normal, feigning interest as if each one were something special, but Brienne had your eyes and your thoughts. She looked a tad less stiff tonight, even casting a few smiles your way. Granted, they weren’t huge smiles, just little twitches at the corners of her lips, but each one was a shot that hit your heart dead-center. By the end of the set, you felt confident enough to press a kiss to her cheek amidst a surge of cheers and hisses.
“I’ll have you know,” you said, thumbing away the lipstick that stained her reddening cheek. “This kind of treatment usually costs the men at least a Silver Stag. But for you? A gift between us girls.”
Later that night, Altair blocked the door to your lodgings at the inn, taking the stance of a child mid-tantrum.
“What was all that?”
“All what?”
“The threats!” he shouted. “Throwing yourself at that woman! She’s paid for nothing! What sort of spell does she have you under?”
“Do you even know who she is?” You stabbed a finger into his chest. “Have you any idea? Barbarous Brienne? You just happen to have a song at the ready to humiliate her? To call the woman a beast? On the very day she arrives here?”
“Astrid, she is a beast!” he hissed, smacking your finger away. “You haven’t heard the way the others talk about her at the arena. You haven’t seen the kind of damage she can do! It’s… it’s just not right for a woman to act the way she does! It’s unnatural!”
“Are you concussed? Did a stray punch crack that thick skull of yours?” you asked. “Clearly those fighters have scrambled what little brain you were blessed with. Of course they’re going to tell tales about a woman who’s bested them! They lie! It’s complete slander! You already know the awful things they say about us!”
“It doesn’t matter if they’re lying! I’ve seen her, girl! So have you! What sort of sins could a woman commit to end up like her?”
“Sins!” Your voice cracked. “Did they mention any of the sins committed against her? What those beasts have done to her? To grow up with such vitriol over your appearance that you’re not even treated as human? You’ve never had to worry about your looks in all your life, boy! People praise you for your words! You could look like a toad and people would just say “oh, a pity he’s so ugly, for his voice is divine.” Meanwhile, I have to paint my face and sidle up to drunks and bastards whether I play well or not!”
“Spare me the lecture on the world of women,” he scoffed, pushing past you to get to his own door. He tossed it open hard enough to hit the wall. “All that matters is money! How do you intend to pay for room and board if you give yourself away for free? I wouldn’t imagine whoring yourself out to that beastly woman a profitable path.”
Halfway between a growl and a scream, you lunged forward to wring his neck, but he slammed the door in your face.
“Don’t think you can hide forever!” you called, kicking a dent in the wood of the door. “When I get my hands on you, our own mother won’t even recognize you!”
You reared back to kick the door again when you felt eyes upon you.
“You’ll do more damage to yourself than the wood,” Brienne said, nodding to your foot. “Your shoes are far too soft for a job like that.”
“This is your fault!” You stormed up to the taller woman, raising a finger to her chest as you had your brother. Only this time, your touch was soft, barely pressing hard enough to feel through her casual clothing. Your anger gave way suddenly, leaving you with a weepy sort of emptiness.
“Me…?” she asked, unmoving, just watching with bewilderment as you began to cry.
“I… I…” Your hand went limp. Reaching up to wipe your nose was like lifting a leaden weight. After a few hiccups, you shook your head. “I hate men! I hate Altair! I hate everyone in this godforsaken place! I… You! Brienne, take me outside! I wanna talk to you!”
She blinked, stepping back in mild alarm, but you grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her towards the stairs. She didn’t resist.
“If you won’t take me, then I’ll take you. I need air and this place reeks of masculine idiocy.”
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Chapter 2: Would You Like to be Adored?
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You held a long branch with both hands, smashing it into a shrub as if clubbing a downed enemy to death. Brienne stood off to the side, watching you with concern.
“I think you’ve killed it, Astrid…” she eventually joked when your movements began to slow. You pointed the stick at her, panting.
“I’m glad you’re in good spirits!” Every other word was marked with a gasp. “Because there is nothing good in this world save for you!”
A sharp breath left her nose, a stifled laugh. “I think you’ve misspoken.”
“I have never misspoken in my entire life!” You flung the stick off somewhere in the distance and then scrubbed your hands against your skirt. “What could be better than a woman who’s grown as strong as a man? All of the power with none of the rotten temperament that makes a man feel as though he’s a gift from the gods.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel that way,” Brienne said, her voice going soft. She sounded… pretty, you thought. Gentle. Like a mother trying to soothe a screaming child. “There is very little good in being someone like me. Becoming fighting, taking up the sword… it was the only way to survive, looking the way I do. I’ve often wished I could be someone small and lovely, but we cannot change our fates.”
“You should be kinder to yourself.” You drew in close to Brienne, standing toe to toe. She still smelled like the soap from the baths. She still smelled like you. Maybe that’s what made her seem so familiar, so safe. Taking her hand, you offered her a smile, tilting your head back as far as your neck would allow in order to see her face. “You’re no abomination. Yes, you’re large, but otherwise your face is quite average. As is your figure. Were you a few heads shorter, I daresay you’d blend into any crowd.”
“You don’t need to pay me compliments,” she said, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Compliments? How tragic! I thought I was being rather mean.” You reached up with your free hand to stroke her cheek, carefully tracing along the faint scars that shone in the moonlight. Your other hand squeezed hers in assurance. “If your opinion is that low, I doubt you’d take me seriously if I shared my honest thoughts on your appearance. I’m sorry that the cruelty of others has spoiled that for you.”
Brienne closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Her jaw was tense beneath your fingers. She was just a girl underneath that cool and detached exterior, wasn’t she? A wilting flower hidden behind a crumbling garden wall. If you gave it just a little push, would it let some sunlight reach her, or would the falling bricks crush her completely? You could only pray for the former.
“If the world were kinder to you,” you said, bringing her hand up to press against your heart. “I’d be able to tell you how soft and fair your skin is, a wonder for someone in your profession. Or perhaps I’d tell you how sweet it is to see you blush and to feel the heat from your cheeks. Or… perhaps I’d mention how cute I find that crease between your brows, though I do like it much better when your face is at ease.”
You decided to act on that impulse, combing back the few golden strands that had fallen in front of her face when she bowed her head. Your palm settled just on her hairline, your thumb smoothing over her forehead until she untensed. Her skin was feverish and when she opened her eyes, your breath caught at the desperation you saw in them.
“You don’t mean any of that,” Brienne said, searching your face for any signs of deceit. “Why are you doing this to me? When are you going to take it all back?”
“I would never. My words are yours to keep.” You took one step back and guided both of her hands to your face. Her fingers shook and your heart bled for her. “You’re so delicate behind all the defenses they’ve made you raise. If I hurt you, you’d just shatter like glass, wouldn’t you? I couldn’t bear the weight of destroying a natural wonder. Imagine cutting down a sacred tree or leveling the ruins of the old world.”
“Please…” was all Brienne said in response, her fingers digging into your skin.
She didn’t need to say more.
Stretching up on your toes, you pressed your lips against hers. It was a chaste gesture, something soft and full of reverence, but Brienne melted into you nonetheless. When you broke the kiss, a tiny whine escaped her.
“Sweet Brienne,” you cooed while she stared at you, dazed, hungry. “You deserve kindness. You don’t need to be small and lovely, not when you’re tall and magnificent. You deserve to be adored, I think. Would you like to be adored?”
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Just as she allowed you to drag her outside, Brienne showed no resistance when you pulled her back to the inn and into your room.
“Get yourself comfortable,” you said, pushing her towards your bed. You crossed the room and knelt beside the hearth, stoking the embers that remained from the morning’s fire until the room was glowing and warm. When you glanced back over your shoulder, you found Brienne sitting awkwardly at the foot of the bed.
“What’s on your mind, sweetling?” you asked, crawling over and setting your head on her lap. Her hands fussed with your hair, separating the strands and then brushing them back. “I can almost hear you thinking.”
“I’ve never done something like this before,” she said softly. You looked up and found her staring into the fire, face pensive. Her hands fell back into her lap, limp, and you gathered them up to kiss each knuckle.
“I’m honored that you’ve put your trust in me,” you said, turning her hands over and kissing her calloused palms. Then, you rose, the movements slow and deliberate as you placed a knee on either side of her lap. You hovered there above her, setting your hands on her shoulders. “You didn’t strike me as the type for a quick lay. I planned to take it slow, as a proper lover would instead of… me.”
“No, no, it’s not that…” She sighed, scooting away from you until her back hit the headboard. As you began to crawl after her, she continued. “I mean to say that I’ve never actually slept with someone before.”
“Ever?” You paused, sitting back on your heels.
Brienne squeezed her knees together and then drew them up to her chest, forming a little mountain between you.
“Surely you jest!” you said, touching her leg gently. “You must have had someone by now. You can’t still be a maiden.”
“I am.”
You studied her face, her features drowning in insecurity and her skin flushed such a deep shade of red that she might have been boiling alive. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, trying to look anywhere but directly at you. Instead of climbing over the mountain, you took the longer path around, coming to sit beside her.
“Am I your first kiss?” you asked, mimicking her posture. You folded your arms across your knees and laid your cheek upon them.
“No, I’ve at least done that. Not under quite as nice circumstances though…”
“Hm.”
“I must be such a disappointment,” she started to say. “I’m sure you expected-”
You cut her off with a firm “no.” Brienne glanced at you and you offered her a smile, before bumping your shoulder against hers amicably. “Just between us, girl to girl, I’m envious.”
“What?”
“My first time was dull. First few, actually,” you said. “It shouldn’t be done as an obligation or concession, but for most? That’s all it is. A bargaining chip or a display of dominance. It should be something joyous for all parties, whether they’re in it for love or just for pleasure.”
Brienne simply watched you, her face set in her usual mask, though she listened intently.
“I hope your first experience with that sort of intimacy is something you truly enjoy.” You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder. “Be it with me or someone in the distant future. The gods owe you as much for how badly they’ve allowed others to treat you thus far.”
She searched your face, seemingly at war with herself. Then, a brief flash of pink as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“I think I want you.”
“Is that so?”
She looked so nervous, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she nodded, but there was a giddiness beneath it all. Your own chest felt bubbly, a sort of schoolgirl excitement welling like being acknowledged by your very first crush. Finally, you laughed, stretching luxuriously and falling back against the pillows.
“Take me, then,” you teased, crossing your wrists above your head. “I’m yours completely, Brienne. Have me any way that you’d like.”
Brienne was above you instantly, boxing you in with those strong arms, and you turned your head to press a kiss to the skin that was exposed just below her sleeve. Again, she seemed to be thinking too hard, merely observing rather than acting, so you looped your arms around her neck and pulled her down to your level. Her warm breath ghosted across your face, millimeters away from actually connecting with you, and still, she didn’t move.
So you did.
You tilted your head up and captured her lips with a contented hum. Only then did she relax, finally melting into your touch. Your tongue traced the seam of her chapped lips until they parted, granting you entrance to her mouth. For a moment, she seemed sated with the little strokes of your tongue against her own, and then a sudden surge of confidence overtook her. She kissed you fiercely, devouring you, her solid body slowly pushing you deeper and deeper into the bed.
It was better than you could have anticipated. Gone was Brienne the maiden, awkward and gangly like a newborn fawn, and instead was Brienne the *knight,* strong and sure. You smiled against her lips, letting your fingers card through her hair, nails gently scratching her scalp in reward for her boldness. She, in turn, brought a hand to your neck, thumb mindlessly caressing your jaw. She was skilled like no other you’d had before, though whether it was due to innate talent or your adoration for her, you had no idea.
You would have happily continued for hours, but Brienne broke away, gasping for air and burying her face in the crook of your neck.
“That’s the sweet Brienne I’m used to,” you said, running your hands down her arms in a comforting manner. She muttered something in response, completely muffled against you. “What was that, darling?”
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she admitted, shifting her head onto your shoulder. Her hand slipped to your chest, thumb running over the stitching of your bodice absently. “I don’t know what I want. It’s like I’m burning and drowning at the same time, and my chest feels so tight… Why am I like this?”
“You’re thinking too much.” She looked up at you through crystalline lashes. How wide and blue her eyes were, her pupils surrounded by tiny flecks of gold. “Give it time, Brienne. You wouldn’t run headfirst into battle. You shouldn’t here, either.”
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
In the end, you went no further than holding each other. When she finally grew comfortable in your arms, Brienne spoke of her life - growing up in Tarth, how she was taught combat only after she began picking and losing fights, and her path to becoming a true knight. There was little fondness in her words. Her stories were peppered with injustices against her, with loneliness and self-doubt. The highlights were battles won, hard earned victories against men and beasts alike, but even those were tainted with blood and loss.
She kept her head on your chest, letting your heartbeat ground her in the present. It was like opening a long infected wound each time you asked for more details, all of the awful things she’d been through dripping out of her and pooling on the blankets below you. In turn, you attempted to staunch the flow with tales of your own - how you and Altair grew up in caravans and inns, peddling your father’s wares, surrounded by a family of minstrels and poets. How lonely it was, never staying in one place long enough to grow roots or connect with anyone other than your own blood.
You talked until the fire began to die and the first of many yawns escaped you.
“I should take my leave,” Brienne said, pushing herself up to sit. You simply shifted to snake your arms around her waist, playing with the buckle of her belt.
“You should do no such thing,” you said, nuzzling into her side. “Undress and be comfortable. Imagine how cold it will be back in your room, how dark. There’s no harm in being my bedfellow, is there?”
She considered it for nearly a full minute before brushing your hands away and undoing the belt herself. With a giddy little laugh, you pulled away and disrobed, tossing your dress across the arm of a nearby chair. You shimmied under the covers in just your chemise and smallclothes and waited.
“You know, you don’t have to worry about impropriety,” you teased as Brienne shed her outer layers. "Do remember that you've already seen me bare."
“Is that supposed to be helpful?” she asked, placing her clothes in a neatly folded pile beside your own. Still, she smiled, clad in a simple shirt and linen pants as she added more wood to the fire before returning to the bed. You held open your arms indulgently and she slid neatly back into your embrace. You nudged her long legs with your own until she curled around you, a comfortable tangle of limbs beneath the blankets and furs.
“Is your chest still tight?” you asked, pressing a kiss to Brienne’s temple. When she shook her head, you tightened your hold on her with a happy hum. “Might I have a kiss goodnight, then?”
“Only one.” A tiny huff of laughter escaped her, but she pressed a quick kiss to your collarbone and cuddled more into your warmth. You settled into some small and idle chatter until sleep claimed her. Your heart swelled to see her so at peace. Holding onto her like a child with a beloved doll, you closed your eyes and conjured up fragments of melody that might suit a ballad for your sweet Brienne.
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Chapter 3: A Ballad for Brienne
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
You woke to an empty bed.
It didn’t surprise you much. Brienne certainly didn’t seem like a coward, but she did seem like she would combust beneath your gaze if you dared to look upon her for too long. You assumed she woke long before you and retreated back to her own quarters to regain her composure. But after you finished washing and dressing, you spied a little bundle laid before your looking glass.
A handful of wildflowers, knotted into a bouquet with twine.
When had anyone ever given you flowers before?
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
“Astrid! I saw that beastly woman sneaking out of your room this morning.”
The weather was lovely that day. Bright white clouds hung in the sky, floating along with the gentle breeze. You found yourself a seat in the grass, warm from the morning sun, and were eating an apple when your brother accosted you.
“And good morning to you, brother dearest!” you said, flashing him an exaggerated smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Astrid!”
“What I do with my free time is mine to decide,” you said, crunching into the apple. “We’re both adults, Altair.”
“That Brienne is a monster!” He spat her name with a level of vitriol that made you wince. “She could snap you in two! Do you know how many men she’s killed?”
“Do you ask that of any of the men I choose to spend time with?”
“Ugh! Why are you like this?!” Altair groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands. “This has nothing to do with sex! Her reputation is more than enough! What happens if you make her angry? What happens if she draws her sword against you?”
“What if one of your beloved warriors at the arena does the same to you?” you ask, munching away. “You’re always saying how vicious the battles are. What if one of them snaps and decides that a bard is a better target than some big burly man?”
“You’re the most insufferable-!” Altair snapped forward and wrenched the apple from your grasp. “Stop with the fucking apple!”
Oh. Something just broke.
You went after him without hesitation, clawing at his wrists to get the fruit back, as if that was what actually mattered. Suddenly, you were back to being seven again, rolling around on the ground and swinging at each other in blind fury. He blocked what he could with his forearms and elbows, but you managed to slip through with a smack that seared a bright pink handprint into his face.
“You’re such a child!” you screamed out as he shoved you back, landing on your side with a heavy thud. He tried to pin down your arms, falling half-across you, but you managed to roll free and ram the heel of your foot into his hip. He caught your ankle just as you were scrambling to your feet and yanked you down. Your face hit the ground and a searing pain shot through your nose, but the adrenaline had you spinning around with a clenched fist that hit him squarely on the ear. He fell back, clutching his head, and just as you moved to straddle him, someone grabbed you under the armpits and pulled you away.
“Hey! That’s enough! Hey!”
You curled in on yourself like an angry cat, wrenching yourself back and forth, flailing your limbs with all your might to get back to Altair. You were dropped for a split second, only for strong arms to circle your waist like a vice.
“Astrid! Stop this! Now!”
When you stopped resisting, you realized that there was blood pouring out of your nose like a faucet. Altair was still on the ground, writhing in pain and cursing you, and the two arms preventing you from causing any further damage started to loosen.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Brienne asked, setting you on your feet and turning you to face her. “What, are you trying to kill each other?”
“It’s all your fault, you massive freak,” Altair choked out. You tried to turn back at him, but Brienne grabbed your arm. His lip was swollen and split down the middle, dribbling blood down his chin.
“What happens if you make her angry?” you mocked in a sing-song voice. “I suppose we know, now! Don’t we?”
“Enough!” Brienne tightened her grip on your arm, before reaching down with her other to grab Altair by the front of his shirt. She hauled him to his feet and began to drag you both back to the inn. “If either of you so much as breathes on each other, I won’t hesitate.”
What she wouldn’t hesitate to do, you didn’t know. You didn’t want to find out. So you marched back in silence, both you and your brother keeping your eyes glued to the ground.
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
You sat in the inn’s dining hall, leaning forward, an odd-smelling rag from the kitchen clutched under your nose. Altair sat beside you, a rag against his mouth, Brienne cautiously poking at his ear.
“I’m surprised you didn’t rupture his eardrum,” she said. “It might look a little ugly when it heals, but at least you’ll be able to hear.”
“Pity…” you muttered, but a dangerous look from Brienne made you seal your mouth shut.
“You both need to behave like adults,” she warned, climbing to her feet. “I don’t have all day to sit around and play mother to you two. Can you promise not to kill each other while I’m away?”
You nodded silently. Altair stared petulantly until Brienne raised her hand, poised to whack his swollen ear.
“I yield!” he said quickly. “No more fighting!”
“Good,” Brienne said, shaking her head. “I should be back in a few days’ time.”
You bade her farewell and wished for her safe travels. The moment she was out of sight, you turned your attention to your brother.
"Still think she's a monster, then?" you asked, prodding his foot with your own. "Or will you concede that you've been a bigheaded fool?"
"I concede to nothing," he said, carefully pulling back his rag to check the bleeding. "Except that she is, at the very least, more reasonable than you are."
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
It took three days for Brienne to return.
During that time, you could not play your instruments. Your fingers felt swollen and stupid, as if your hands were replaced by a bear’s paws. Altair could not sing for fear of reopening his lip. So, the two of you sat in the tavern as patrons instead of entertainers, speaking as you hadn’t in many a year. The cheap alcohol brought down your defenses and pushed your feelings to the forefront.
“What happens when she leaves you?” he asked, sighing into his drink. “’You know she cannot stay here forever. What happens when the work dries up and we must leave? This can only end badly for you.”
“Why think that far ahead?” you asked. “Can I not have fun while it lasts? She’s just such a sweet thing, brother. I think I’d be content to just be in her company until we part. Or…”
“Or?”
“Or perhaps, if I’m still quite so enamored, I’d ask to follow her,” you mused. “I could be her attendant. Every army needs a musician, you know.”
“Be serious.”
“Or! I might hire her to be our bodyguard. It’d be nice to have a bit of muscle behind us on the road.”
“Astrid.”
“Altair, I’m not an idiot,” you said, knocking your shoulder into his. “I’m under no delusion that this is everlasting true love. I just wish to see her smile. She denies herself so much of the beauty in life, and yet she’s so gentle and honest. Besides, you’ve heard her speak! Her voice makes me weak. I can’t help but wonder what other sounds might escape her pretty lips if I…”
“I will literally empty my stomach upon this table if you continue,” he interrupted, sending you into a fit of giggles. He rolled his eyes fondly, taking a long sip that ended in a wracking cough. “Speak of the devil!”
You shot to your feet and scanned the room. Still clad in her armor, Brienne stood at the counter, talking to a barmaid. You immediately dashed over to her, cozying up to her side and winding your arms around one of hers.
“There’s the one I’ve missed!” You beamed up at her, enjoying how rigid she went against your touch. She stared down at your intertwined limbs with a dumbfounded expression for a few seconds before the tiniest of smiles pulled at her lips.
“You missed me?”
“Terribly,” you said, laying your head against the cold metal of her armor. “Come sit with us, will you? I’d like to properly introduce you to my brother. I can promise no bloodshed this time.”
“How can I deny that kind of an offer?” She laughed properly at that, pressing her hand to yours ever so briefly before you released her.
Back at the table, you made Altair scoot aside so that there’d be plenty of space for all three of you. He did so with only the mildest annoyance on his face.
“Brienne, here is my dearest brother, Altair,” you said, urging her to sit. You took the spot between them and ruffled his hair. “He is my elder by mere minutes and his mouth is healing very well. Altair, this is Brienne of Tarth, the object of my affections and your savior from an early grave.”
Brienne nodded, clearly uncomfortable, intent on studying the grain of the wood beneath her tankard. Altair glanced between you and her, before sighing heavily.
“This poor woman has just come back from a mission and you insist upon smothering her,” he chided. “I apologize for my sister’s eagerness. It seems she had to empty all common sense from her head in order to make room for thoughts of you.”
“I fear he’s not entirely wrong!” Laughing, you laid a hand atop Brienne’s forearm. Her face was the prettiest shade of pink and you were very tempted to steal a kiss from her, but she looked ready to burst from the attention. “Now, don’t leave us in the dark, Brienne! Tell us of your trip. Was it anything exciting? Collecting a bounty for a criminal’s head? Slaying a massive beast? Delivering a secret message between feuding lords?”
It was nothing so special, but recalling the banality of her trip seemed to soothe Brienne’s anxiety enough that you could converse freely. Altair managed to pull a few tales out of her that matched up to his own songs, of battles and lords they both knew of. Over dinner, she spoke of home, the Sapphire Isle of Tarth, a gem in a sea of crystal blue, with its mountains and meadows and waterfalls. Her words were so lyrical, her voice so sweet, that you might have cried from the beauty of it all if you hadn’t been smiling up at her like a lovesick fool.
Perhaps, you thought, you were a bit more than infatuated with Brienne. Altair was the wordsmith, no doubt, but you could feel poetry growing like crystals inside the part of your mind that was now dedicated to her and her alone:
'The moment she spoke, my interest was sparked, and with one simple smile, she’d stolen my heart.'
Brienne deserved a ballad. Something honest and just as lovely as the island she grew up on. As the three of you chatted that night, the rest of the lines began to take shape.
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
“Brienne.” The name rolled off your tongue like the sweetest poetry as the not-knight allowed you to unlace and remove each piece of armor. The iron was weighty and cold, the surface lightly pocked from strikes with arrows and swords. You laid each piece carefully upon her room’s writing desk. You were more than a little drunk and you insisted that she needed a companion for the night.
“This is entirely unnecessary,” Brienne said as you turned your attention to her leathers, but you brushed her off with a kiss to her forehead. Her skin tasted of dirt and salt from the road.
“But it’s a joy to adore you,” you said, smiling softly. Her eyes refused to meet your own, but you could tell there was a twinge of amusement in her face.
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Altair parted with you both earlier in the evening. You left the tavern with your bellies full of food and drink, hearts light with the power of good company, when your brother pulled Brienne aside. You tried to join in, to stay beside the taller woman, but he shooed you away like a pesky child. Standing at an awkward distance, your mind pleasantly hazy, you waited for them to let you back in. He whispered up to Brienne, a cupped hand preventing you from reading his lips, all while casting conspiratorial glances your way.
Brienne looked mortified.
You pouted, fists bunching in the fabric of your skirt. Only you were allowed to embarrass her. The pang of jealousy faded just as quickly as it had arrived. Maybe you had polished off more wine than you should have. It explained the way the ground swayed beneath you. It also explained why you wanted to destroy your brother for whatever he was saying.
The conversation ended with Altair nodding once in your direction, and then turning to march up the path back to town.
“What is that little rat up to?” you asked, hurrying over to Brienne. Her brow was furrowed and she opened her mouth to answer, only to close it once more with a confused tilt of her head.
“I… I don’t know if I’m at liberty to say.”
You wound your arms around hers possessively, watching his figure get smaller and smaller in his retreat. “It’s never good when he thinks.”
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
The baths were busy tonight, much to your disappointment. There would be no teasing or touching as you soaked beside Brienne, the room echoing with the chatter of a dozen other women. Instead, you sulked while Brienne scrubbed away the evidence of her travels.
“You treat your skin like you’re sanding wood,” you said, swishing your hand through the water. “A wonder that you haven’t exposed any bone yet.”
She hummed, a brief sound of acknowledgement, before drawing up her left leg to continue to wash. You openly stared at the path of her hand as it traveled along the long and tightly muscled limb. Her skin was enviously smooth and pale, like the light of a full moon. A light dusting of hair dotted her shins, but it could only be seen when the lights hit her just right.
“You’ve been carved from marble…” The compliment slipped from your mouth like a sigh, one hand absently mirroring her movements along your own thicker thigh.
“Can you, perhaps, not watch me quite so closely?” Brienne asked, sinking lower into the water. Your gaze shot up to her flushed face and then darted off to somewhere in the distance.
“By the gods, I’m no better than a man…” When was the last time your heart fluttered like that? Like your chest contained a thousand butterflies, freshly hatched from their chrysalises, all trying to escape through your throat at once. Pressing a hand to your cheek, you found the skin a higher temperature than the bathwater. Brienne breathed out the smallest of laughs beside you, her teeth digging into her lower lip and turning the skin a bright pink. You could only steal the quickest of glances before your chest tightened again. Closing your eyes in defeat, you huffed. “Damn you for getting me into such a state.”
The hand that clamped over her mouth barely stifled the sound that shot out of Brienne - something halfway between a choking gasp and the call of a hawk. The laughter ceased as quickly as it began, instantly replaced with a guilty look when the other bathers looked your way.
“I’m sorry,” she said from behind her hand. “The thought of me inciting a feeling like that in anyone was just… just absurd! I couldn’t stop it.”
No words could describe how atrocious that laugh was, nor how much it made you want her.
o()xxx[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Back in your room, Brienne sat by the hearth while you idly strummed a tune on your lute. It was something slow and soft that you had first learned while traveling along the Sea of Dorne, in a little village nestled on the coast. With the instrument cradled in your lap, you smiled up at her from the warm stone floor.
“Is it to your liking?” you asked, nodding your head in time to the music.
“I’ve never been one for the arts,” she said from her chair, head tipped back and eyes lightly shut. “But it’s a sweet sound. I’ve no complaints.”
“Good, good…” You returned your gaze to your fingers as they plucked away at the strings. “I’ve always wished there were lyrics to go along with it, you know. It’s too pretty a sound to let Altair have it. I’m sure he’d find a way to turn it into something crude and bloodthirsty.”
Brienne hummed in agreement, her breathing deep and even.
“My beloved was born on the Sapphire Aisle,” you began, praying to both the old gods and the new that your voice was acceptable. You heard Brienne shift, but refused to look up at her. How embarrassing it was to put your emotions to a melody…
"My beloved was born on the Sapphire Aisle,
A nobleman’s daughter, her looks were quite mild,
As tall as a redwood and easy to rile,
No one back home ever thought her worthwhile.
All the boys in her youth showed her nothing but scorn,
And among other girls, she could not conform,
No suitors to take her, a youth spent forlorn,
She shed her fair title, a knight then was born.
With limitless valor, a sword and a shield,
She harnessed her strength and took to the field
To protect her king, her life’s purpose revealed,
Against fiend or foe, she never would yield.
Though the Maiden of Tarth could carve out a path
Through legions of soldiers, survive dragons’ wrath,
No words of kindness and no lover’s grasp
Were ever rewarded, much like in years past.
But Brienne the Beauty, my heart did declare,
Surpassed counts and lords and kings debonair.
With stormy blue eyes and short cornsilk hair,
No doe-eyed damsel could ever compare.
The moment she spoke, my interest was sparked,
With one simple smile, she’d stolen my heart.
So with these words, I’d hoped to impart
That I love nothing more than
Sweet Brienne of Tarth. "
You were met with silence so heavy that you feared you might melt through the floorboards.
Then, a shuddering intake of air.
You looked up and found Brienne’s face completely crumpled. The lute fell out of your hands with a hollow twang as you raced to close the distance between you.
“No, please…” you cooed, sliding onto her lap and pulling her into a tight hug. You rocked her as best you could, one hand clutching her shoulder, the other carding through her still-damp hair. Gods, she was sobbing, each one wracking through her like an earthquake. “Hush, please, darling… I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. It was only a stupid song. Please, please don’t cry.”
Brienne mumbled something into your damp shoulder. You gently pried her head up, hands cradling her face, thumbs sweeping over ruddy, tear-streaked cheeks.
“What is it, sweetling?” you asked, combing her hair away from her forehead.
“It’s not stupid,” she said, sniffling. “It’s lovely, but… you can’t… you can’t just do that to me.”
You blinked, taking a few moments to process her words. Then you laughed, you couldn’t help it, this jubilant feeling radiating through you as you held her face. You kissed her mouth, her cheeks, each soaking-wet eyelid. “Oh, my darling! My sweet Brienne! You liked it? I didn’t mean to overwhelm you!”
She hid her face back against your chest, buried deep in the fabric of your nightgown. You held onto her and hummed softly, lips pressed to the crown of her head, until her breathing finally began to calm.
“What would your enemies do if they knew that kindness ruins you?” How lovely it was to hear the tiniest of laughs escape her. You grinned against her hair. “We’re lucky that you face off against brigands and beasts instead of poets, hm?”
“I suppose we are…”
You pulled back and found her smiling up at you. Nothing could compare to the beauty of that smile, not the sun or the sea or the stars above. You suspected that you were the only one who had seen her so joyous, so free, so alight with pure affection. You could drown in those sparkling blue eyes and die in her lap, and no one could say your life was not well led.
Must be the eyes (Teacher!Agatha x Fem!Student!Reader) part 13
( part 1 ) ( part 2 ) ( part 3 ) ( part 4 ) ( part 5 ) ( part 6 ) ( part 7 ) ( part 8 ) ( part 9 ) ( part 10 ) ( part 11 ) (part 12)
warnings: mentions of abusive relationships and leakage of intimate photos without consent.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You took a deep breath and counted to 10 in Latin to calm yourself down as the brunette led you through the hospital. Not once did she ever let go of you, on the contrary, every time you slowed down your pace, she would squeeze your hand a little to assure you she was there for you.
Nick sighed as he laid his head on the pillow. Really, he really missed you. He never imagined how hard would be spending almost a month without the walking chaos that was Y/N Y/L/N, but he had gotten as used to you, as you were to him.
a/n 2: gif found on google (but I’m sure I’ve seen it here, so let me know if you know who i need to give credits to, please)
a/n 3: song lyrics from “Me dediqué a perderte” by Alejandro Fernández.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You didn’t move when you heard the soft knock on the door. You knew who was on the other side, and honestly, you didn’t have the energy to deal with her.
