#This barely counts as spoilers tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliteralsemicolon · 4 months

Text

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist.

Not entirely, at least.

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life.

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent.

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at.

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen.

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew.

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often.

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details.

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel.

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter.

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too.

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over.

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces.

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her.

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface.

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking.

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-”

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring.

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response.

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically.

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia.

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly.

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest.

“Okay what would you call it then?”

“I wouldn’t call it anything.”

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive.

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution.

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills.

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you.

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off.

There’s no way.

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way.

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him.

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly.

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry.

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self.

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve.

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of.

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut.

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours.

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company.

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.”

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can.

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you.

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself.

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.”

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat.

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again.

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick.

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs.

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him.

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid.

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later.

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water.

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again.

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle.

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent.

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend.

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction.

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known.

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else.

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing.

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him.

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you.

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible.

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace.

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you.

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do.

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-”

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought.

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you.

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation.

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night.

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-”

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build.

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either.

“You know…”

it’s almost not even a whisper,

“...if I wasn’t who I am…”

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible.

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship.

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back.

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done.

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him.

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now?

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out.

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away.

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes.

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again.

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you.

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back.

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back?

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier.

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel.

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in.

Shit.

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night.

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did.

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did.

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together.

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative.

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world.

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt.

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.”

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you.

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads.

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings.

“Are you hungry?”

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care.

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing.

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further.

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him.

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you.

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble.

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts.

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you.

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around.

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking.

“Where are you going?!”

“Anywhere you’re not.”

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway.

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before.

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!”

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car.

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms.

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never.

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly.

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant.

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling.

“Answering a question with a question.”

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence.

“Spencer, don’t–”

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you.

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration.

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief.

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh.

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life.

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself?

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating.

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response.

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life.

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels.

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him.

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away.

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around.

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist.

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else.

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar.

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee.

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends.

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time.

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand.

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?”

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.”

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!”

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it.

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology.

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life.

Spencer would always impact everything in your life.

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?”

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman.

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down.

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly.

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores.

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him.

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw.

“What more is there to say?”

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him.

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.”

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.”

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type.

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him.

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication.

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that. I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls.

Thank you for reading!

2K notes · View notes

topperscumslut · 1 year

Text

Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed (Sejanus Plinth x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) is the victor of the 9th Hunger Games and the beloved girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow, though she’s secretly in love with his best friend (in this au the hunger games progressed more quickly, for example mentors were already present before the 10th games etc etc). title inspired by Hot Freaks’ Puppy Princess!

Warnings: not much rlly tbh, a wee bit of angst but mostly FLUFFY FLUFFFFF. might write a smutty sequel if this does well (or just if i feel like it lol) but even then it would be more fluffy smut, like sweet love making rather than getting absolutely railed lmao yk? (i probably will so stay tuned if u like this and lmk if u wanna be tagged!)

spoiler free apart from references to coriolanus x lucy gray!!

ok actually it is a pretty good amount of angst nvm lmao

Word count: 2k

You sigh as you run your fingers over the tattered poster, so shiny and new only a year before, reading the now barely legible words. (Y/N) (L/N) Victory Tour, In Honor of the 9th Hunger Games, Arriving Soon in Your District. You remember your victory tour all too well. Despite the traumas you had endured as a victor, you’re grateful for how far you’ve come. Sure, you still have nightmares of your games every now and again, yet even still you have the best fate a girl from District 3 could ever hope for - you had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect love story. A doomed romance from the beginning; star crossed lovers, one might say, a Capitol boy and a District girl. When you had arrived at the Capitol for the 9th Hunger Games, near certain you had no chance of winning, your dashing mentor Coriolanus Snow had immediately taken a liking to you. He took you under his wing and coached you through your games, and when you had miraculously emerged victorious and returned to the Capitol, he decided that he wanted you for his own, and who were you to say no? Not even a few weeks before, you were just another girl from District 3, completely unknown, barely scraping by. Now you had been thrust suddenly into a lavish lifestyle with a handsome suitor to boot, adored by all of Panem; the nation’s sweetheart. After your games, you could have left it all behind. Sure, you would never be granted total anonymity being a victor, but you could have gone back to your beaten down home in District 3 and lived a relatively quiet life. After all, it’s not like the Snows had the finances to buy your freedom from your district and turn you into a full fledged Capitol citizen.

But the Plinths did.

You never particularly enjoyed Strabo Plinth as a person, but you couldn’t help but be grateful to him for what he had done for you. You had, however, immediately taken a liking to his caring wife, as well as his juxtaposition of a son, Sejanus, who clearly took more after his mother. In contrast to your rugged, analytical lover, Sejanus was gentle, complex. The two of you had become fast friends while Coriolanus had helped you prepare for the games.

And so before you knew it, this was your new life. At first you were anxious, concerned that your becoming a Capitol citizen and Coriolanus associating so intimately with a girl from the Districts would be seen as an act of rebellion and put you both in danger. However Coriolanus assured you that the nation loved you, both as an individual and as a couple. Sure, it was unexpected, yeah, it broke the (admittedly unwritten) rules, but that’s what made it oh-so fun to watch. Because at the end of the day, the games weren’t a competition - they were a show, and everyone loved an underdog.

There was only one minor flaw. You had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol, yes, but it wasn’t the one you had so publicly given your heart to.

Your relationship with Coriolanus was practical, and that was about the only positive thing you could truthfully say about it. Neither of you were particularly wealthy or powerful individually, but together, you had potential. If you could keep all of Panem tuned in to your epic love story, you could almost certainly ensure mutual survival. You offered Coriolanus the opportunity to be known as not only a mentor to a victor, but a lover as well. And though nearly a year later his eyes had started to wander, the dapper blond had been quite infatuated with you when the courtship had begun, and Coriolanus was notoriously possessive. While his family was in the midst of financial hardship at the current moment, becoming a Capitol resident gave you the opportunity to get by still much more comfortably than you had in your impoverished home district. And who knew what volatility Coriolanus was capable of if you had rejected his advances? You had been coaxed into this very moment and had no other option but to grin and bear it. After all, all the girls you knew back home would kill to be in your position. A handsome sweetheart, financial stability courtesy of the Plinths, and the whole country all but worshiping you. Coriolanus Snow had offered you not only fame and fortune, but more importantly, security. Safety, in return for your undying affection.

Coriolanus was sweet at first. Charming, for sure. He was certainly attractive, yet he had never really had much of an effect on you. Maybe it was simply intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that he could never compare to his best friend, Sejanus Plinth.

Kind, pure Sejanus. The type of boy that, unlike Coriolanus Snow, truly made your head spin. The chemistry between you and Sejanus was unspoken, yet undeniable. However, you had already reluctantly sworn yourself to Coriolanus, and knew running off with his best friend would certainly put both you and your not so secret admirer in a treacherous situation. Sejanus Plinth was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take.

What stung the most was that in any other situation, it could have worked. Sejanus was certainly more wealthy and influential than Coriolanus, not that that was what truly mattered to you. If you had been just a bit more fortunate, you could have had the boy you truly loved as your mentor and still have the same security and more that you were now so gracefully granted, if you had simply found your way to Sejanus before Coriolanus had set his sights on you and claimed you as his own. But unfortunately for you, your current romantic relationship was one built upon the grounds of survival rather than love.

If you were fully honest with yourself, you never truly loved Coriolanus - well, not romantically, at least. There was once a time where you had loved him as a dear friend, but in the time you had known him, he had become cruel and vitriolic. You knew from the start that he had always had it in him to become this way, though you had always naively hoped that he wouldn’t, that he would control himself, but the poison within his soul had soon taken over his cold, uncaring heart. He had become hardened by the misfortune of his family and gradually more complaisant in the ways of the Capitol, as well as secretly resentful of the great fortune of his supposed best friend and honorary brother Sejanus.

Now just over a year since you had met, the 10th Hunger Games were nearing to start. You had heard the whispers of Coriolanus sneaking around with his newest mentee, your replacement in more ways than one, Lucy Gray Baird; however it never bothered you. Lucy Gray knew that your relationship with Coriolanus was nothing more than a facade, and the two of you had become unlikely friends. You weren’t sure just how much of his affections for Lucy Gray were genuine, or how much was motivated by a desire to flatter her in an attempt to gain another victor to further his own career. Though Coriolanus’s mood was recently heightened by his new lover, he was still resentful of being assigned such an impoverished district for two years in a row and was prone to fits of rage over this perceived insult. While your home of District 3 was never much of a spectacle, Lucy Gray’s District 12 was miraculously even more down trodden, the poorest district of them all. You couldn’t help but wonder if this assignment was actually made to compliment Coriolanus, to show that if he could made a diamond in the rough out of you, that perhaps he could do the same for Lucy Gray.

As you sit alone in Coriolanus’s bed, still running your fingers gingerly along the photograph, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sejanus?”

“Oh, hey. Is Coryo around?”

You shake your head. “He’s out right now.”

Sejanus’s jaw tightens at your response. “With her?”

You nod unenthusiastically and can see the disgust and anger wash over his face as he makes his way over to you.

“It’s not her fault, Sejanus. She’s actually really sweet.”

He sits down on the bed next to you, careful to leave enough space between the two of you as to not make you uncomfortable. “I know it’s not. It’s his. Does it really not bother you at all?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re better than me, (Y/N). I don’t know how you put up with it. If I truly loved someone, it would kill me to see them with someone else.” He’s subtle, but you can tell exactly what he’s implying.

“Well good thing I don’t have to see it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sejanus looks sympathetically at you for a second, blissfully unaware that his kind, beautiful brown eyes are making you melt, before noticing the poster in your hand.

“Is that-”

“Yep.” You shiver, remembering your games, the things you saw… “I don’t think it ever occurred to him, the things I had to do in there.”

“It occurred to me.” He gently places his shaky hand on your knee, carefully surveying your expression to make sure you’re okay with the contact, to which you nod slightly, nearly involuntarily. “Look, I’ll say it since no one else in this screwed up place will, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You bite your lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach once again as he gives you that look and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Your boyfriend could come home any moment, after all, and you quickly compose yourself, breaking Sejanus’s gaze. “It’s okay. I won. It’s the Hunger Games. It’s an honor.”

He inches carefully closer to you before speaking up again, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “(Y/N), you don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shake your head in denial. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that light in your eyes that I love so much since you’ve left the arena? Why don’t you care that he’s always off with Lucy Gray? Why are the rules different for you than they are for him?”

And suddenly it hits you all at once. Sejanus is right. If Coriolanus is sneaking around with your friend everyday, even when they aren’t training, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to him? What do you owe him when all he’s ever done is keep you like a bird in a cage?

You don’t stop yourself, you don’t even think as you lean in and kiss Sejanus. He gets over the initial shock quickly and melts into it, cradling your body in his arms and pulling you in by the small of your back. You both pull away at the same time, not quite sure what’s gotten into you, but whatever it is, you like it.

“Coriolanus has never kissed me like that.”

“Go figure.”

His nerves kick in once again as he starts to stutter an apology before you shut him up by kissing him softly again.

“Since I first got to the Capitol… Sejanus, nothing here has felt right, except for you.”

“I could say the same about you,” he muses as he leans in once again, kissing you slow, both of you pretending the moment could last forever. If only…

644 notes · View notes

ozarkthedog · 11 months

Text

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary: while working as a bartender at Prospero's Orgy, a masked woman follows you into a storage room.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. verna x fem!reader. f/f. smut. fingering. slight dom/sub vibes. no spoilers (that i know of). no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: tbh, I’ve only watched 2 eps so far but I had to write something with her. I don’t know anything about the series so forgive me if there are inaccuracies.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Booming music shakes the walls of the old, brick building as you make your way to the storage room. You’ll be amazed if the orgy goers don’t drink their way through all the liquor before the night even properly begins. You heard someone mention something about midnight and rain. You pray your boss will let you go home before all hell breaks loose.

You unlock and shove open the storage room door with a sigh. This was not really your kind of scene. You could handle yourself in a bar and catered events, you’d worked plenty of them before but an orgy? You don’t know why you signed yourself up for this. Sure, the money was good but the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned facility, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

The room was dank and barely lit as you graze the various shelves for a case of Glenfiddich. You find the last case on the floor near the back of the room when the storage room door creaks and then shuts with a bang.

Fear prickles your skin.

It’s probably some horny couple looking for a secret place to get off. Still, you clear your throat before nervously calling out, “Hello?”

You scream when a masked skull turns the corner of one of the shelves. You walk backward until a coarse brick wall catches your clothing and halts your retreat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A gentle voice says from beneath the mask. The woman is draped in a hooded, sparkly red cape that barely covers her body. The black lingerie she’s wearing underneath leaves little to the imagination.

You clutch your chest as you’re taken aback by the stunning blonde when she unties her mask and reveals herself.

“I couldn’t help myself.” She admits, stepping closer before setting down her mask on one of the shelves. “I saw you from across the room and I…” she trails off looking at you as if she’s seeing the sky for the first time.

“Oh my. Aren’t you precious?” She coos, stepping closer. Blonde hair frames her face like a halo although something in your gut told you she wasn’t an angel.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen such a beautiful woman so up close before.

“What are you doing in such a place?” She ponders with curious eyes. They travel the length of your body and back again. Something wicked and dark encases those hazel orbs making you swallow down the lump in your throat.

Your cheeks burn as you stumble over your words. “Bartender- I’m a bartender.” You catch your bottom lip with your teeth and tug unconsciously on it. Your flight response kicks into high gear as the lady in red seals the gap between your bodies.

You whimper as she presses her barely clothed frame against yours. The brick wall behind you leaves no chance of escape as your heart bangs steadily against your ribs.

“Shh. There’s no need to be nervous.” She states softly while cupping your chin in her palm. She drags a perfectly manicured thumb across your bottom lip and tenderly releases it from your teeth. “You’re something I rarely encounter.”

You’re frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable when she leans in and time stops. She brushes her lips over yours, so tender and soft, you try to keep the whimper that bubbles up at bay but to your embarrassment, it escapes.

She pulls away with a grin. “You really are precious.” The apple of your cheek is warm under her thumb as she rubs the soft patch of skin. “So sweet. I’d love to hear you sing.”

Your brow quirks until you feel her hand sliding down your belly. She catches your wild eyes in a firm stare. “Tell me to leave and I will.” She states while lifting the hem of your skirt and snaking her hand beneath the material. “Or will you allow me to experience your seraphic nature?”

Your core clenches as she palms your mound when you don’t send her away. Her nails drag playfully over the thin cotton of your panties before she tugs them to the side and finds your molten heat. An illicit sob tears from your lips as she teases your dipping folds with deft fingers.

She strums your core with expertise leaving you a wanton mess in her grasp. Her thumb circles your clit with tight movements, drawing your bliss out and into the open. Your mouth drops in an ethereal sound as she takes you apart with ease.

She smothers her body over yours, her lingerie covered breasts close to spilling as she secures you against the brick wall even harder. “Such pretty sounds from such a pretty girl.”

She laves at the softness of your neck, feeling the pulsating beat beneath the thin flesh as she drowns you in pleasure. Her tongue leaves a hot, wet trail over your neck and down your clavicle as you shake under her lewd touch.

Two deft fingers curl their way into your soaked channel, spreading and molding your warmth to her liking. She rubs along your velvet walls, finding which spots make you shiver and which make you sing the loudest for her.

“It’s fun tasting the other side, isn’t it?” She asks despite your impending rapture. Her hazel eyes glimmer with wickedness. “The grime. The debauchery.”

Wet, sticky thwaps fill the room as she spreads you open. She drinks down every moan and gasp that tumbles from your lips as she fucks with her fingers you into abandon. She tips your head to her chest as she pulls one of her breasts free from a lacy lingerie cup.

“But you’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” She claims as she feeds you a firm breast. You groan into her flesh and suckle the nipple she offers. You twirl your tongue around the pert bud and relish the soft gasp that she lets loose.

“That’s a good girl.” She praises while stroking the base of your skull and scissoring her fingers against your slick walls. Your essence drips down your thighs, staining and marking your skin but you could care less as this strange woman makes you feel things you never have before.

She hooks her fingers and grazes that spongy spot behind your clit and your body goes ridged. Every nerve in your body sings, wanting to cry out and praise her for choosing you. Your hands lock onto her shoulders, too afraid to let go, worried that if you move she’ll disappear and it’ll all have been a dream.

“It’s alright.” She coos, her eyes growing soft as your core quivers around her digits. “Let go, my precious girl. I’ve got you.”

The knot buried deep in your belly snaps. You come with a raspy wail against her chest, riding out your bliss on her fingers while she holds you in her arms.

She sucks her two cream coated fingers into her mouth and cleans them with a moan. Your mind goes numb at the image and you do your best to not crumble to her high-heeled feet.

“I must return to the party now.” She says, fixing the skull mask back over her face. She stares at you from behind the mask for a silent moment before weaving an arm around your back and tugging you with her toward the door.

“You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t the place for someone like you. Leave while you can.” Her tone left no room for argument even though you knew you were still on the clock.

You catch yourself on the door frame and spin on your heel, catching her otherworldly gaze. “Will I see you again?”

The lady in red smiles under her mask. “One day.”

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#verna x reader #Verna x you #Verna #the fall of the house of usher #carla gugino #verna/reader #verna/you

322 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 7 months

Text

Sugar

Grad student!Nathan Bateman x older!fem!reader

Author’s note: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT TBH BUT DON’T WANT TO GIVE SPOILERS SO WARNINGS ARE NON-EXHAUSTIVE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK I GUESS? (As ever, minors DNI, thank you!) And I blame Oscar at MEFCC in the black polo and @nowritingonthewall’s hc of young!Nathan sneaking into tech conferences for this one. (I’m imagining him as getting towards his mid twenties here.)

Word count: just a short one!

Warnings: power / wealth imbalance, and slight warning for dub-con due to this. Sexual touching (slightly public). Infidelity. Alcohol consumption (reader). As mentioned above, warnings are non-exhaustive this time to avoid spoilers. If you do need further info, however, you are welcome to DM or send an ask.

“Not touching the oysters?” Nathan asks in as suave a tone as he can muster. The only oyster he’s personally sampled, so far, is the oyster sauce at his favourite downtown take-out.

Your plate of extravagant buffet food is discarded next to you, however, as you pore over a stack of documents at the hotel bar, a martini in a tall, flared glass languishing in your free hand.

You whip your head towards Nathan and look him up and down; as though deciding whether he’s worth the time of day, or whether you should immediately summon security to remove him from your field of vision. You seem to find him relatively inoffensive, at least, and grant him permission to remain in your orbit; for now. You hum contemplatively. “Decided I’ve had my fill of vile sensations for today,” you announce in a cool, assured tone. “I had to fuck my husband this morning. Twice.”

Nathan emits a low whistle. As much as he tries to take it in his stride - to act like he’s accustomed to affluent, worldly, cut-throat women like you - he isn’t. Honestly, he’s barely accustomed to anyone at all lately, since he’s immersed himself entirely in getting his start-up off the ground.

You’re older. Older than him, at least. Older than any woman he’s been with so far, he can’t help but think. That, along with your candidness, is refreshing. You’re not all giggly and earnest and chaotic like the young women he’s met around campus - which sounds far less exhausting to him, if he’s honest.

He looks you up and down in return. And, yeah. Shit. He definitely wants to fuck you.

“He doesn’t get you off?” Nathan asks, crude and casual, as though he has any business asking. However, he’s found that a complete disregard for social norms can -oddly- sometimes pan out in his favour. Sometimes. Besides, on this occasion he has to risk it, or social norms would dictate that he shouldn’t approach you at all. At least not before he’s in possession of an invitation-only credit card, or, has made a hard-to-come by appointment via your PA at the very least.

You take a sip of your drink and eye him over the brim. He likes that move. Your eyes are full of deliciously dark amusement as you appraise him. He thinks you may even like what you see. Might even find him refreshing too. “Well. It’s not love - or anything else so impractical. It’s strictly a business arrangement,” you explain, as though you have been waiting for an opportunity to vent and no-one has actually bothered to ask you. “He pays for my lifestyle and I put out. And occassionally have to, you know, run his fucking company, attend boring conferences to schmooze his investors, and generally mask his total ineptitude.” You gesture around you vaguely. From the tiredness in your tone, it makes sense that you’re hiding out in this deserted hotel bar, Nathan thinks.

He knows fine well who your husband is too. A guy many, many years your senior. Obscenely rich fucker too. CEO and founder of a huge ass telecoms company, recently diversified into various markets across the tech world. The company is running an agressive acquisition policy, buying out start-ups and hoping to find something that sticks. The “next big thing”. It hasn’t succeeded yet. Projections look mediocre at best.

Nathan, who very much considers his innovation the “next big thing” - the only game in town - had tried to corner your husband at the end of his rather lacklustre panel. After all, he’d done his research. Had identified the highest value targets he could network with in attempts to drum up some investment. He is trying to bolster his sorely under-funded start-up… which, if he is honest, has barely even “started” at all. He knows the tech. The code. He’s a certified genius, for God’s sake. He was just a fool for thinking that that alone would be enough. Frustratingly for him, it’s the schmoozing and understanding of the cold realities of the business world he struggles with. He seems to rub people up the wrong way, for some reason. Probably because they’re all assholes. Or, maybe, because they view him as too young or too rough around the edges to know what he’s talking about. Or, most likely, because they’re uninspired bastards incapable of comprehending his world-changing vision. Maybe all of the above.

So much then, for the supposed merits of the free market and the idea that the best ideas will prosper. His idea is the best, and he’s floundering simply because his daddy can’t buy him his way in. Instead of a reliance on the strength of the product, networks and power and money and nepotism appear to be king in this world. And, Nathan possesses none of these advantages. Even with the buzz around him at his faculty, and his full ride scholarship at 17 for being a fucking genius.

Anyway, after a failed attempt to schmooze your asshole husband, Nathan had quickly put together that the guy didn’t have a goddamn clue. That you were the brains (and beauty, by the way) behind the operation, and he was likely little more than the funds.

Also, the guy definitely didn’t seem like he’d be a pleasant fuck, by any stretch.

He grimaces somewhat at the thought.

“That’s what they say isn’t it?” You take a breezy sip of your drink. “Fake it until you make it? They’re talking about orgasms, sweetheart, and my last performance paid for these shoes.” You kick out your appealing leg, your shins bare and smooth beneath your pencil skirt, and you briefly show off your shiny, black, red-soled heels.

They’re nice. Sexy, on you.

Nathan briefly wonders why you’re being so forthcoming with him, a complete stranger; but you don’t strike him as someone who gives a shit in the slightest what other people think. You also strike him as someone who can make people think whatever you want them to think. One day, he hopes to have as much power over a room as you do - and that’s for starters.

He slips into the bar stool beside you then, uninvited, and you scoff. “Are you even old enough to drink, baby face?”

He bristles at that, thick brows pinching and nods slowly, peeking at you from over the brim of his glasses, his own eyes now dancing with a subtle, dark amusement.

You’ve already turned away though. It frustrates him that he can’t entirely hold your attention.

“Nathan Bateman. Student, MIT.” You gesture to his name tag with a perfectly manicured finger, and without looking back up from your stack of documents.

Now, Nathan glumly reassesses his earlier conclusion. You are being forthcoming because it really doesn’t matter what he, specifically, thinks. Because you’ve already estimated that he’s the guy in the room with least influence. For now, at least. You’ll see. “Better to check. Especially before you start hitting on me.”

He swallows. “Is that what you think’s happening?” Shit. Do you want that to happen?

“Isn’t it?”

He’d make some dig about you flattering yourself. But he knows fine well it’s the most likely reason any hot-blooded guy would be sidling up to you. You’re hot and unobtainable; which makes you even hotter.

Nathan watches as you idly spin your wedding band around and around. He’s surprised you can even lift your arm with that rock attached. When he notices it, he wants to fuck you even more than he did before, but he definitely can’t afford you.

“Actually. I wanted to pick your brains on something. You seem the kinda person who knows a good idea when she sees one.” Unlike the other idiots at this conference who’ve refused to give him the time of day. Maybe he should reconsider his pitch.

You scoff, still not looking up at him. “Honey,” you deliver in a silken, condescending tone, which he is surprised to learn makes him half-hard in his pants. “I charge for that too, and I get the feeling I’m a little beyond your budget.”

“Call it corporate social responsibility then. Supporting the students.”

“Sweetheart. I pay someone else to do that sort of thing for me.”

“Okay.” He takes it in his stride. Wants to show he isn’t fazed by you, even if he is. “Then I guess I am hitting on you. Unless that’s gonna cost me.”

You finally turn back towards him. Look him up and down again as if to remind yourself exactly what you’re dealing with. You study his cheap suit and his mop of curls and his freshly grown-out beard, and he is surprised how exhilarating he finds it to be under your scope.

Your lips curl with subtle amusement, your gaze growing downright wolfish as you survey him.

Fucking unreal.

You look like could eat him up and spit him out. Or… you could swallow, he fantasises briefly, gaze dipping down to your plush mouth.

You do like what you’re seeing, don’t you? Are intrigued by him. Finally. He encounters someone with some good sense.

“What’s it like?” he delivers with a smirk, feeling a resurgence of his familiar confidence as he successfully holds your attention.

You eyeball his fit again. “What? Tailoring?”

He bristles at your dig, but again, aims to present an unbothered exterior. “No. I mean.” His palm waves through the air. “Being a sugar baby.”

You tut at him. “Why, are you interested in a position?”

He arcs a single, thick brow. “I could be.”

“I don’t think my husband’s recruiting. Unless you want a 60-hour a week unpaid internship with zero healthcare and no dental.”

“No. I mean that…” His tie feels awfully constrictive around his neck all of a sudden. This is a bold move but… you have to speculate to accumulate, right? “…I could be yours.”

You clearly weren’t expecting that. And, as much as you try to pass-off that you’re used to jumped-up, cocky little shits like him offering to be your sugar baby, he can plainly see it throws you for a moment. Still, you compose yourself beautifully in no time at all. “I already have one man who saps my time and comes in two minutes flat. What would make you any different, honey?”

Nathan offers you a lopsided smile, opting not to contain the dark, lust-blown gaze smouldering behind his lenses. What does he have to offer, exactly, in this scenario? He purses his lips while he thinks, and then he lands on it: “I’m… hot.”

You look him up and down again, conceding - with a tilt of your head - that his argument is at least halfway compelling. “Hmm. Do you imagine, though, that I struggle for offers from hot, younger men?”

“Not in the slightest. You’re gorgeous.” And rich. “But I think you can do better.”

“Better like you? What makes you so special?” You’re having fun with this. He can tell from the glow in your eyes and the curve of your appealing mouth.

He offers you his best smoulder. It isn’t hard - there’s an easy chemistry between the two of you, he thinks. “There are things I don’t give away for free either.”

“Well,” you ask, leaning in close to him and cupping his chin firmly in your hand as you dip your painted lips towards the shell of his ear. “If I was to take you up on your very generous offer… What pretty things would you want me to buy you with the money, baby boy?”

Fuck. You smell good.

You smell edible, and his suit pants definitely fit far less well than they did when he donned them this morning. In fact, they’re getting increasingly tight around his crotch as his arousal swells for you.

With a tight swallow dipping down his neck and a rare nervous sweat dampening his shirt, he twists to gather some documents out of his backpack. You scrape your nails down his beard as he turns out of reach, and fuck, you’re doing it for him.

Then, gathering his cool, entering the domain he is expert in and is sure of, he flips to the page on costings in his business plan, sliding it across the bar to you.

He gives you a moment to study the text. The list of the equipment, personnel, marketing budgets and so on he needs to realise his rather extensive ambitions. Then, he leans in to you in return as you pore over his plan. He dips his mouth until his beard is tickling the shell of your ear.

“This would be a good start… Mommy.”

As you look back at him with a dark, lust-laden stare, looking as hungry as he feels, he wonders if he might leave this conference with some start-up funds after all.

If this comes off, then… fuck. He hopes you are as ferocious in the bedroom as it strikes him you are in other areas.

Your head is angled towards him, your lips parted in mild surprise. Your gaze briefly dips to the tenting arousal between his legs, and he doesn’t even attempt to hide it.

He has no idea where this will lead; but that’s the fun, isn’t it? Nathan is rather fond of experiments.

A hard swallow dips down your neck and you cross your legs, pressing your thighs together as you take in the substantial swell of him.

You gather a smile, and your composure. “Your business plan looks impressive, Nathan.” His name sounds good in your mouth. He wonders how his cock might feel in there too.

You hand the documents back to him, and you quickly gather up your things, slinging your stack of documents under one arm. With the other, you reach out your hand, offering it to him to shake. He obliges. “I’m certain we could come to some sort of… arrangement.” You free a business card from the holder in your tote and slip it gracefully into his top pocket.

He’s a little disappointed it isn’t your hotel room key, if he’s honest. He’d love to work on his current… problem… right away. “When would you like to… discuss things further?” he asks, as you dangle the promise in front of him.

“You’ll have to make an appointment with my PA,” you dismiss with a smirk. However, you seem keen to guarantee that he does. You’ll be fun to play with, Nathan thinks. “Will you do that for me, Nathan?”

He thinks about it. Decides it’s a no-brainer. “Yes.”

To his surprise, you then reach your hand down towards his crotch, pausing before you touch him and allowing him opportunity to protest. He doesn’t. And so, you settle your palm over the aching bulge between his legs. The warmth of you bleeds through the fabric, and Nathan struggles not to react to the pressure you apply, managing to limit himself to a ragged intake of breath. His eyes flutter shut, lashes fanning against his cheek. When he opens them again, he half expects his glasses to have steamed up.

“Yes, what?” you purr, giving him an abrupt squeeze.

“Y-yes, Mommy,” he stutters, almost choking on his words, and with that, you look very satisfied indeed.

He wagers, from the expression on your face, that you’ll definitely be motivated to seal the deal.

You sweep out and Nathan watches your ass sway in that tight pencil skirt as you go.

Fucking unreal.

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #Oscar Isaac

101 notes · View notes

lampthehealthminister · 5 months

Text

The sun's light reaches even the darkest depths

Synopsis : Aventurine has a vicious snake in his head, but your voice always chases it away.

Warnings : Spoilers for Aventurine's backstory! It's just references, but maybe some people haven't played the quest yet, you never know lol ; Also intrusive thoughts?? Perhaps?? I'm not sure tbh

Genre : Hurt/Comfort??? Sorta??? ; x reader fic

Word count : 1.2k yoohoo

Notes : I haven't written a fic in more than a year... Forgive me if I'm rusty, but I just love this man so much ugh. Might make a part two from reader's pov this time because I've got lots of ideas!! Do give me advice if you think I should improve some stuff!! You can also request something if you like my writing <3

Even when he steps foot in the comfort of his home, the knot settled in his throat does not go away. Worse, when he inhales the smell of spices, it chokes him even more. (He wonders if you thought about him when cooking, and the idea of him lingering on your mind for longer than he should makes him want to cry.) He removes his coat, trying his best to think about something else as he hears your footsteps approaching. (Are you finally going to yell at him and push him away today?)

“Welcome back, ‘rine.”

Luckily, you greet him when he’s still removing his shoes, giving him enough time to build his composure back up. (How could he face you otherwise?) When he stands back up and meets your eyes, he is once again reminded of exactly why he is so drawn to you. (He knows it’s wrong, but he is helpless against it. Like a moth attracted to a flame, he can’t help but want to stay in your light for a little longer still.)

“It’s good to be back home.” (“I missed you.” he wants to say, but he can’t afford getting too attached to you, just like it’s not good for you to get too close to him.)

He wants to take a step forward, wants to fall into your arms and hide away from everyone and everything else ; but his feet are glued in place, and the weight in his chest is heavier than ever. His throat feels dry, his palms are sweaty, and for a split second he worries that you’ll start asking questions, that you’ll worry, that you’ll take his face in your hands and envelop him in your embrace, wrap him in a soft cocoon of gentleness and care and everything else that he doesn’t deserve. (Has the air always been so suffocating?)

He jumps as the sound of an alarm resonates through the air. He watches you scurry off to the kitchen and exhales a sigh of relief. (Did you notice how he almost lost himself just now? Did you see him bare, his soul completely exposed as his own body failed to obey him? Or did he successfully manage to trick you once more, just as he does with everyone else? He doesn’t know what he prefers.) He steps forward, inhaling once more. The scent of a foreign spice tickles his senses, and the name of it sits on the tip of his tongue, present but not fully here, an image and a distant memory.

It’s only at dinner, when he takes a bite of the food you’ve made, (The voice in the back of his head tells him he doesn’t deserve it, but he would hate to see you upset.) that he recognises it, the name shining bright like a lightbulb in his mind, a single piece of thread that he’s managed to get a hold of. He opens his mouth to tell you, but the silence in the room shuts him up. No words fill up the space, and he finds the quiet unsettling, cold, a shiver running down his spine at the thought. But most of all, he is worried about you. Why aren’t you saying anything? You usually tell him all about your day, about the things you’ve seen, about the plans you’ve made with other people, so why is today different? (Can you no longer bear to entertain him now that you’ve seen how ugly he is on the inside? Have you had enough of his theatrics, of his games, of him? He tells himself that he won’t stop you if you leave, but he knows he will always wake up in the morning thinking you’re still by his side.)

He finally dares looking up at you, worried that he’ll find your seat empty. Maybe you were never there to begin with, maybe you’ve already left long ago? Maybe he’s grown so attached to your love that he imagines you greeting him every day, feeding him every day, holding him every day. Maybe the house is so cold because you’re simply no longer there, because he can’t bask in your light anymore. (It’s just what he deserves, so he shouldn’t complain. He’s always been too selfish with you, after all. Always about taking, never about giving, because he can’t afford to show all of his cards, even with you.)

“What are you thinking about, ‘rine?”

Your voice snaps him out of his daze. The first thing that invades his mind is the fact that you’re here. He suddenly feels warm all over, like his heart is being cradled by gentle arms, like his soul is being taken care of by a kind gaze. (Did Kakavasha feel like that, too? Was it when his sister held his hand, when his mother kissed him on the forehead for the first time?) This time, he can’t prevent his real thoughts from tumbling out of his lips.

“You.”

The expression that graces your face rivals even the Mother Goddess’ blessings, he thinks. As if his word was a prayer, you light up even more than before, gently coating him in your warmth. (How did he even manage to find someone like you?) You smile at him so openly, so genuinely, like you’re not afraid to show him what you feel ; and every time, he falls for it, for you, even harder than he should. You reach for his left hand, and he hopes you don’t feel how his pulse is fluttering under his skin, how his heart is racing just by being in your presence. He loves you. Even if it’s dangerous, even if you leave him, even if he hurts you. Right now, he loves you, and it’s as sickening as it’s sweet, sticking to his lungs like golden honey.

That night, he watches as the moon traces a serpentine path of light on your skin. You’re talking to him, keeping him company as he ties all the strings of sleep together slowly. You still hold his hand in yours, and despite having long since removed his gloves, he can’t get enough of your touch. Even now, you look at him in that special way, with that gaze only reserved for him, and yet he doesn’t recognise the emotion that lingers in it. He doesn’t have time to think too much about it either, because exhaustion is dragging him down. Like an anchor, it pulls at his feet, forces him down in the dark even if he hates it. He squeezes your hand tighter, a desperate attempt to stay afloat, but he’s already too far gone in the depths, your image only a distorted reflection above the water. If he doesn’t come back from there, he’ll at least imprint all of the details of your face in his mind one last time.

Even while he sleeps, you don’t let him go. You hold him close, look at the way his features relax. You gaze at him with an adoration he never notices, doesn’t want to see. Words scratch at his walls, make him feel vulnerable, tear him apart from the inside out, so you never use them. You only hold his hand and lead him somewhere else, so that even if he is lost, he doesn’t have to look far to find his way home again.

#aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #star rail aventurine

138 notes · View notes

freshbakedbreadstick · 1 year

Text

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter One

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Herimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: You finally grab the bear by its ears and face it head on, despite all the unanswered questions.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of self harm, grief, death, mental health issues, strained relationships, smoking.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: OMG thank you all for all the kind words and love ! ! ! I'm gonna b honest with you all, after i posted the prologue I completely logged out of my account for the week LOL I was SO nervous abt it and so I just left it alone 😭 but I'm back with the first official chapter ! Also, I am opening the taglist for this series, so please let me know if you want to be tagged ! Thank you to one of you lovely readers for asking about that ❤️ your comment was very appreciate bc tbh I completely forgot abt even considering making one 💀 thank u babes ily and I hope you all enjoy !!!

Taglist: @marysucks-blog

PROLOGUE / MASTERLIST

The rumble and honk of a car driving quickly down the street took you out of your thoughts.

Here you were, once again, on the sidewalk and across the street from The Beef. This time, it was not some odd hour of the night but rather 4 o'clock in the evening.

After tossing and turning all night long, you rose early that morning much to the insistence of your mom and dad, who were very much eager to get you to reunite with Natalie, with bags under your eyes and stiff joints. You trudged around the house, jumping at every small noise that somewhat resembled the notification sound of your phone, before finally giving up and plopping down on the sofa to send Sugar a text.

'Hi Sugar, it's me. Nice to talk to you again. I'll swing by The Beef at around 4 if that's okay with you.'

About 5 minutes later, a loud buzz made you drop a glass of water to the floor.

'Of course! I'm so happy to hear from you! I can't wait (:'

You could feel a pit forming in your stomach as you read the message. You can practically hear the way her voice lifts in excitement as you read it. To make matters worse, the smiley face felt like it had a mind of its own and it was taunting you. It practically said 'Remember the good days? Remember how close you and Sugar were? Before everything happened?'

With a shallow breath, you threw your phone onto the nearest soft surface and scooped the broken glass up with your bare hands.

Your parents fussed around you all afternoon before you left. At first, they said it was to make sure you were okay with going over there but it became pretty clear that they were pretty much just making sure you weren't going to back out. While you understood why they were chasing you around like a chick chased their mother hen, you got tired of it really quickly.

"Mom, I'm serious, I'm okay!" You insisted, pulling your shoe on and pausing at the threshold of the front door.

"Are you sure? Do you want us to come with you? How about you let us drive you-"

"I'm fine!! I'm going now!"

With a sigh, your mother glances at your father before nodding, "Alright honey, be safe."

With a weak smile, you headed off.

And now here you were, finding yourself halfway down the street and being honked at by someone in their car.

Snapping back to the present after replaying your hectic morning, you jump at the realization that you were unconsciously halfway across the street and heading towards The Beef.

"GET OUT THE WAY!" The person in the car yelled, sticking their head out the window.

You ran to the sidewalk and half slammed your body against the wall, chest heaving. You had no idea what took over you and made you move without thinking but here you are now, in front of the same place you vowed to never be at again after Mikey's death: The Beef.

"Fuck…" you murmured to yourself, trying desperately to catch your breath as you closed your eyes.

Focusing on the sounds of tires on pavement and rustling leaves on trees, you took a breath. You counted from 1 to 100 and then back to 1 again. You then opened your eyes and counted 5 things you could see, 4 things you could touch…

With a hard swallow, you turned around, ready to walk to the front door now. It was past 4 now but from the messages you got earlier from Sugar, you knew that there was 'no rush' and to just 'come in the front door'.

"I can do this, I can do this…" you whispered to yourself and lightly jumped in place, hyping yourself up.

You pushed forward, rounding the corner of the wall and to the front door, when BAM! Some guy just slams into you.

You fly backward, stumbling as you try your hardest to avoid falling onto the pavement.

"Watch it, idiot!" Some guy in a high vis vest barks at you before marching away with a wrapped sandwich in his hand.

You stare, mouth open in silent shock and confusion, unable to respond. If this guy had bumped into you about a year ago, you would have practically beat him up yourself. Mikey would've had to come out of the restaurant and drag you off the guy, laughing and cheering all the way. His strong arms would wrap around you and somehow lift you up and off, voice husky in your ear as he alternates between voicing good humored apologies to the guy who had the misfortune of being an asshole to you and murmuring about how hot you looked while you defended yourself.

But in this moment, all you could do was regain the little confidence you had and go back to the task at hand: walking in.

You swallow before standing up straight, plastering on a faux confident but cool grin onto your face. With your head held high in a way that you used to do but doesn't feel like you anymore, you jam a fist into your pocket and use your other free hand to push the front door open and waltz in.

Cooly, you scan the empty restaurant. It seems like the lunch rush was very much over by now and the last customer for a while before the dinner rush had crashed into you and left moments before. So now, it was just you and The Beef.

"Give me one sec!" A loud and charmingly obnoxious voice yelled from the kitchen.

Your facade slipped as you heard this voice. Instantly, your shoulders sagged as you let out a quiet but pained laugh under your breath.

The booming voice of Richie got louder and louder as he came out of the kitchen and to the counter, "How can I help you-"

He paused. You immediately stood up straight again, a wide and sly but fake grin spreading over your face.

Richie blinked, frozen. His eyes were wide and mouth had dropped slightly open.

After a couple seconds, the awkwardness started to set in for you, prompting you to speak up, "Jesus, Richie, you look like you've seen a ghost."

In an instant, Richie snapped back to reality with a grin on his face, "COUSIN!"

You winced at the volume, apparently not being the only one as you heard a couple muffled groans and protests from the kitchen as well as someone saying "what?!"

Richie threw his arms out, wide, before dropping them and racing around the counter to you. With a laugh, Richie's arms enveloped you, squeezing tight.

You stiffened up immediately, feeling bad for not reciprocating instantly like you used to do. But whether or not that bothered Richie, you would never know because as fast as he enveloped you in a hug, he pulled away.

"Cousin, what the hell are you doing this side of the country, huh?!" He grinned and placed his hands on his hips.

"Oh my gosh!" Another voice said.

Your head whipped to see Sugar at the doorway to the kitchen. She clutched a clipboard in her arms but as both of your eyes connected, she let it fall to the floor with a clatter.

You can see her eyes well with tears as she raced around the counter to join you and Richie and as she got closer, she blinked them away. A wary smile appeared on her lips as she stood next to you, making her look a cross between nervous and relieved.

"Richie, give her some space. Oh my gosh, hi!!" Natalie gasped.

You winced a bit and smiled, "Hey…"

You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

"Shit cousin, I had no idea you were coming here! If you let us know beforehand, we could've made you a welcome party or, or, or something!" Richie said, ignoring Natalie.

"How the hell have you been? How was it out west? I heard you got back in town but had no clue you were coming over here to visit!" Richie continued, going on and on and on.

You stared at him, eyeing the way he looked rugged and much more tired than usual. But Richie was the same old Richie, loud and brash but caring when he wanted to be.

Your eyes wandered from Richie's frame over to Natalie, who seemed to be analyzing your body silently. Her eyes were filled with worry and her fingers rapidly intertwined with themselves as she gave you a look that meant to say, 'Is this okay? Are you okay?'

You glance back at Richie before your eyes fell behind the two and to the entrance of the kitchen where a crowd had formed.

And in front of that crowd was Carmy.

Your shoulders tensed up, visibly enough to make Natalie perk up and whip her head around to see what you were staring at and make Richie go silent. The two glanced at Carmy and, unbeknownst to you, gave him a look of warning.

Carmy wiped his hands on the towel he had and stared back, silent. His body language was unreadable and you couldn't tell whether or not he was upset at seeing you. Either way, you could feel the hair on the back of your neck stand.

"Carmy…" you said, voice hoarse.

You cleared your throat and awkwardly nodded, acknowledging those around him. You recognized a couple faces and others seemed unfamiliar but either way, they all looked at you with curious and cautious eyes.

After stewing in silence for a bit, Sugar spoke up, "Carmy… say hello".

Carmy blinked, eyes still set on you making you feel pinned to the spot. You could feel your breakfast swirl in your stomach as his eyes glared into you, analyzing your every move. Finally, he nodded and turned around, making the crowd behind him part like the red sea as he moved back into the kitchen.

Suddenly, another face appeared in the doorway of the kitchen before yelling out your name excitedly. Fak came racing out of the kitchen, following the same path that Richie and Natalie took, before stopping in front of you.

"Holy shit!," he exclaimed happily, "Your home!"

Your shoulder sagged.

Home.

You were home.

He giggled to himself, not at all noticing your reaction "I haven't seen you in forever, how are you?"

"Jesus man, give her some space she just arrived," Richie began, already launching into an argument.

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine!" Fak said, head snapping over to Richie before the two began to bicker.

Natalie rolled her eyes at them and turned to you, still concerned, "Just ignore them. Are you okay, sweetie?"

You stood up straight again, wiping the wide eyed expression you didn't even know you had on your face for one with a lazy smile, "Yea, I'm okay."

She reached her arm out, hesitating for a second to see if you would reject her, before resting her hand on your forearm when you seemed okay with it. She gently ushered you around the bickering men and behind the counter, to the kitchen. The crowd watching dispersed with curious eyes and kind smiles from those you recognized, letting you two pass through.

As you walked through the kitchen, gulping as your eyes retraced each corner and crevice you had tried to forget about, your eyes stopped briefly to look at Carmy. With his back towards you, he silently chopped some vegetables, seemingly ignoring what was happening around him.

"Here we are," Sugar said, quietly announcing to you to get your attention.

You turned and dug your heels into the ground, soles squeaking as you did so. Sugar jumped back and glanced at you.

"Can we… I'd rather we talk outside." You announce, voice wavering in a way that made your previous confident persona waver.

Right in front of you stood the door to the office; an office you were very much familiar with as you too had spent many times there. All those memories, all bittersweet at this point, came rushing back; the nights you spent arguing over bills and paperwork with Mikey, the days you came with a bag of donuts from your favorite shop nearby, the intimate moments where your and his lips connected behind the closed door, the moments in which you hid in the office and cried your heart out.

Sugar noticed the way your eyes had become misty and promptly led you to the back door of the kitchen and to the alleyway.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, that's okay. We can talk here.” she said soothingly.

Her voice was so comforting, making you feel nauseous. You hated the way that Sugar would always act very motherly, even when you were all kids.

With a shaky breath, you nodded and smiled anxiously, “I'm okay Sugar, you don’t need to worry.”

Glancing at you, Sugar smiled softly. But her smile quickly dropped when she scanned your features, taking in your face again.

“You look,” she began quietly, “You look good.”

You chuckled to yourself, knowing damn well that she was wrong, “Thanks, you too.”

Richie bursts out the back door, with Fak in town, still bickering.

“My God you two, just stop!” Sugar yells, getting the two to finally snap their mouths shut.

Fak playfully salutes Sugar, a knowing look on his face while Richie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Yea whatever. I’m just happy to see you again, cousin.” Richie says, directing his body to you, with a tone of softness in his voice that felt so foreign that it made you shiver.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you said softly, rubbing your hands on your thighs.

It was silent for a bit as the four of you all glanced at one another, unsure where to start and what to say. Each party had so much they wanted to say to each other at that moment, but you knew that the three people standing before you had the most to say to you.

Carmy came out the back door, silent and unsurprised to see the four of you glance in his direction. He closed the door behind him and stood off to the side, away from all of you. He then proceeded to take out a pack and light a cigarette, quietly puffing.

“Cousin, did you even say hello? It’s rude as hell to just ignore her,” Richie said, a bit agitated at his dismissive behavior.

Yet Carmy ignored him, staring out to the side and away from you all, his blue eyes flickering, but refusing to even glance in your direction.

You could feel your eyes prickle and your throat tighten, regretting even showing up. Carmy was the one person you haven't seen the longest and here he was, ignoring you as if you didn’t even exist.

“Hey,” Richie barked, taking you out of your thoughts, “At least look at her!”

Richie began to stomp forward to Carmy, making you and Sugar flinch as you watched. Fak moved forward, reaching out to Richie and mumbling quietly to get him to stop. Right before Richie could grab Carmy by the shoulder, Carmy spoke up.

“I’m glad you're okay.”

Your mouth dried up.

His eyes turned to you and all you could see in them was pained understanding. He knew you weren’t okay; an okay person wouldn’t just pack up and leave the night after her boyfriend’s funeral. But, he saw that you were alive and the fact that you showed up here after so long meant something.

It meant that now you were okay.

“Thanks Carmy” you said, making everyone’s head turn to you.

Richie rocked his jaw and nodded silently, stepping back from Carmy.

The three of them watched as Carmy lifted his box of cigarettes and offered one to you. They then watched as you walked forward, arms that had wrapped around your body falling, to grab one. He fished his worn lighter from his pocket, carefully lighting the cig you held around your lips for you, before pocketing it and leaning back against the wall.

You take a deep drag, letting the nicotine smoke fill your lungs before exhaling. It soothed your nerves, reminding you of the moments that you spent outside with Carmy, avoiding the yells from inside the house during a Berzatto family event.

Suddenly, a deep funny feeling began to strew about in your belly. It felt odd and you tried to suppress it, but you just couldn’t help it. You barked out a laugh.

It surprised you and everyone, not at all expecting it. You felt your cheeks heat up, horrified as to why you just laughed.

You breathed in, only for it to come out as another laugh. Your horror was then replaced with amusement, making you laugh even harder.

Sugar, Fak, and Richie all averted their gazes, a mixture of remorse and shame written all over their faces.

You laughed even harder, slamming your back against the wall before sliding into a crouch. Your body shook so hard as you laughed, barely able to keep the cigarette between your fingers.

Carmy looked away, an empty look on his face as he too chuckled to himself.

After laughing so much that your belly began to hurt, you finally spoke up between dissolving giggles, “What the fuck am i even doing here!?”

Natalie turned her back to everyone, clutching her body in her arms. Fak walked forward and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even look at him as he hooked one of his arms under your arm and helped you up from the floor to stand against the wall again. Your knees buckled slightly as you continued giggling and wheezing in an attempt to catch your breath.

Fak stepped back and sighed softly, watching your chest heave as your breathing began to stabilize.

An uncomfortable silence fell as you caught your breath, leaving the four of you in limbo to listen to a couple cars pass by and the wind blow softly by.

Carmy straightened up, making everyone except Sugar turn to him. He dropped the cigarette he was smoking and crushed it under his shoe. He then reached behind him to untie the knot of his apron and then moved to his neck where he took it off completely. He thrusted it forward, pushing it to you.

“Okay Chef, break is over.” He said.

You looked over at him, finding no fear or sadness on his face, before nodding and grabbing the apron. He stepped back and turned, moving to open the back door and step inside.

Sugar, Fak, and Richie all turned to you.

“Break is over,” you repeated and began to tie the apron around yourself before opening the backdoor and walking back inside.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #reader #carmen berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #carmy the bear #richie the bear #mikey the bear #carmy berzatto imagine #richie berzatto imagine #mikey berzatto imagine #sugar berzatto #natalie berzatto #neil fak

353 notes · View notes

serial-serializednovelreader · 4 months

Text

Nova’s Notes - DD - May 12

Well, dear readers, we’re back with Jonathan in his toils! And, as you may expect, it’s not going well.

He starts off by telling us he needs to separate “bare facts” from his experiences, further confirming that he doesn’t like to write down what he hasn’t confirmed to be true yet. And he’s a lawyer, so that makes sense.

He tells us a series of questions Dracula asked of him that he wants to record, in case it’s useful later. I can’t say enough that Jonathan is truly using all of his wits here!

We also get an insight into Dracula’s plan: he wants more lawyers in different parts of England to direct goods he would like to ship. What exactly these goods are and more precisely, why, is a mystery (I have my theories, but I’ll keep them to myself to remain spoiler-free — and I don’t remember all of the details tbh).

What we do know is that he obviously wants a decentralized network working for him. He doesn’t want one person knowing his business, but rather, wants a few people knowing little pieces of it. However, he gets rid of this idea once Jonathan describes the solicitors as a “system of agency”. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me like that’s saying that all of the solicitors work together *on some level* or, at least, know each other and it would simply be easier to just have one guy do it. To me, this says that they regularly chat with one another if Dracula were to do this, they would likely figure something is up.

Whatever it means, it does seem to intimidate Dracula, since the next question he asks is “can I just do it myself” to which Jonathan says “of course!” All of those law books Dracula has been studying seem to come in handy, for he knows the law almost as well as a solicitor. I’m sure it’s not to do anything wrong or illegal….

I also love that even though Jonathan is trying to escape from this man, he still wants to give him honest legal advice, like he makes him clarify his question to lead him in the best way possible. If only Dracula was worthy of that treatment!

However, he’s snapped back to the reality of being a prisoner when Dracula asks him if he has written letters to anyone and basically demands him to stay for a month!!

“What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkin’s interest; not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself; and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use them, but in his own smooth, resistless way”

It’s a sober reminder, but one that bears repeating. Unfortunately, Jonathan has to stay at Castle Dracula. Even with all of the scary things that have happened to him so far, it’s not enough to warrant saying no. Since he went in his boss’s place, it’s even more imperative that he tends to this Count’s every need. If he doesn’t, he’s basically using his boss’s name in a negative way, which is so much worse. Dracula could use this to write a smear campaign against Jonathan AND Mr. Hawkins, and it would work.

There is also the matter that he’s being actively held captive, but I would wager Dracula knows exactly what’s at stake for Jonathan here, and it has nothing to do with locked doors. How would Jonathan be able to work his way up the ladder if he refused to stay and help a wealthy man — his first real client — for a month? Jonathan could tell anyone he wanted about thrown mirrors and locked doors, but he would likely just get told he made it up or be labeled as “indiscreet” because hey, the rich clients are eccentric and can do what they want, right? So what if you were almost attacked? It’s harrowing how relatable this kind of situation still is hundreds of years later. Dracula may be a vampire, but that’s not the only type of horror we get in this story.

After Jonathan agrees, Dracula then asks commands him to write three more letters but only about business stuff, please? Jonathan immediately knows he needs to write formally for Dracula’s sake and then write more in secret, especially to Mina in their shorthand code (hooray for the nerds!). He only uses *two* of the letters — I bet he stashed the third to use for Mina — and then observes Dracula writing a few of his own.

Jonathan does not miss his chance to read Dracula’s letters when he leaves and

“felt no compunction in doing so, for under the circumstances I felt that I should protect myself in every way I could.”

I love that he doesn’t feel any qualms about doing this. He shouldn’t. He’s being held hostage and now told he has to stay for another month. Most protagonists of this era would likely balk at the very idea of snooping through mail and I’m sure Jonathan would too most of the time, but this isn’t any other time. Jonathan knows he has to do this for his own safety.

He’s only able to discover names and addresses before Drac comes back. Whether these are important or not, I won’t say, but they are likely a part of Dracula’s larger plan. Jonathan is meticulous in putting everything back as it was before, showing his attention to detail.

We then get an ominous warning from Dracula to Jonathan not to sleep outside of his room at night or else…thanks for that positivity! /s

Jonathan refers to keeping the crucifix at his headboard. He says he’s not worried about sleeping in a Dracula-free zone, but…I do think he’s worried Dracula or maybe someone else is going to attack him in his sleep, because why would he keep it so close otherwise? Also, he says he sleeps better with less dreams, so the queer paprika dreams are back y’all, but this time, no paprika. :(

We also learn he seems to take comfort in looking at nature, as that is what he does to calm his nerves. Bad news: this is already taking a toll on his fear levels and he’s less than a week in.

Worse news: Jonathan sees Dracula use Lizard ModeTM for the first time! He recognizes him by his hands (quite observant of him) and notices he’s barefoot (ew Dracula, put the grippers away!!!).

That causes Jonathan to call him a “creature” for the first time and worry there really is no escape for him. He ends his entry “encompassed with terrors that [he] dare not think of…”

Again, I feel for him here. How would you react to seeing your host crawl like a lizard around his castle? Personally speaking, I would not take it well. This is the most hopeless we’ve heard him so far, and I’m sad to say he doesn’t mention Mina to bring him out of it. I’m so sorry, good friend Jonathan. Looks like your business trip is not going too well, after all.

#dracula daily #dracula #jonathan harker #count dracula #may 12th #long post #novas notes

23 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 2 years

Note

now that you requests are open for aib, could you please write about thinking on betraying reader, but then reader saved him in a game and he starts developing feelings towards reader? 🥹

pairing: chishiya x male!reader genre: hurt comfort ?? word count: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for requesting !! you didn't specify who you wanted it for so i chose chishiya because i love him. tbh i kinda struggled with this so this is just reader saving chishiya during the king of spades shootout and then a confession, i hope that's okay. i hope you like it !!

warnings: blood, gun violence, mentions of getting stitches, chishiya gets shot, he's kinda ooc, s2 spoilers, not really canon compliant, this isn't really what the request was i'm so sorry i really struggled with writing this for some reason but i've been working on a longer fic that should be coming out soon

the sky is blurry as chishiya stares up at it, slowly blinking. adrenaline is still coursing through his veins preventing any pain from the gunshot wound in his side. blood pools on the ground around him, sticking to his body and staining his clothing. he lets his eyes flutter shut for a few seconds, letting the darkness surround him before something presses down on his body- hard. he gasped, staring up in shock. you hovered over him, holding your hand on the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“chishiya?” he groans, letting his head fall back against the ground. “we need to get somewhere safe, i need you to stand up.” chishiya winces as you pull him to sit up, wrapping your arm around his waist. he isn’t sure if the flush on his face is from being shot, his multiple near-death experiences, or the feeling of your hands on his skin.

you shift so he’s leaning on you, helping him limp away from the car he was hiding behind. everything is a blur as you rush into a building, laying him down on the concrete. you pull your jacket off, bunching it up and moving his hands so he holds it against his chest. “i need to find medical supplies,” you say, frantically looking around. he can barely recognize it as a convenience store. he’s surrounded by shelves of boxed food.

the sound of you searching around echoes through the empty building. he focuses on the sound of your labored breathing to keep himself conscious. at least somewhat alert. he can make out cabinets being opened. their contents are thrown out of them without care.

then, you gasp. a metal tin scrapes against the plywood as you reach back to pull what he assumes is a first-aid kit out of it’s place. you rush back to his side, throwing the jacket out of the way and replacing it with gauze. your hands are shaking. you’re covered in blood. his blood. he can see bruises and scars on your bare chest from previous games.

“chishiya,” your voice cracks. “you can’t die, okay? i need you to be okay.” it’s an impossible ask, laying on cold concrete with a bullet in his side. he’s still bleeding, staining the ground, his jacket, your jacket, the gauze- everything. his vision is blurry, black spots threatening to take over. his hands feel cold. probably blood loss.

but despite it all, he reaches up to grab your hand. your skin is warm against his. he squeezes your hand, nodding a little.

“i won’t. i promise.” you lean down to rest against his chest, fresh tears mixing with the blood. his hand moves from yours to the nape of your neck, running his fingers through your hair. he hopes it’s comforting. or, at the very least, not making you feel any worse.

“i don’t know what to do,” you sob.

“you do,” he whispers. “stop the bleeding, see if there’s an exit wound, and then stitch it up.”

you force yourself to wipe your tears, sitting up on your knees. your hands are still shaking as you nod, grabbing the first-aid kit again. “this is gonna hurt,” you whisper. chishiya nods, holding his breath and preparing himself for the stitches. “i’m sorry.”

there’s only a few seconds of pain before everything falls into darkness. it’s almost peaceful. the quiet is a welcome change after the chaos of the beach and the fear from the games.

slowly, feeling begins returning to his body. his body aches from where he was shot. he’s laying on something soft- softer than the concrete from before. it’s bright when he opens his eyes, sunlight streaming through the windows. he’s still in the convenience store. now sitting up, he can see the chaos from before he passed out. things are thrown all across the room. next to him is the first-aid kit with a little piece of paper shoved underneath. on the back he can see the map of the subway he took from the woman’s body during tag. he flips it over in his hands, reading your messy writing on the back.

went out for supplies, be back soon

- y/n

a breath of relief escapes him. chishiya uses the wall to push himself up, standing on his feet. there’s not much else in the store besides food, but he can see his jacket laying out in the sunlight. the blood has been washed out of it, leaving it a nice white. he’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt. underneath his clothing he can feel the swim trunks he had been wearing at the beach.

“he must’ve found some clothes,” he murmurs, venturing further through the store. your jacket lays haphazardly on the ground. it’s still stained with blood and covered in dirt. behind one of the shelves is a makeshift kitchen. firewood leans against the wall next to a container of gas and a lighter. your lighter. he sighs, making his way back to the bed you had set up for him. it’s a few blankets and towels stacked on top of each other to keep his body away from the cold concrete. chishiya lays back down, letting sleep overtake him as he awaits your return.

he’s awoken that night by the sound of a bag being set on the ground beside him. he shifts to sit up, startling you a little. “chishiya!” you gasp. “when did you wake up?”

“a few hours ago,” he smiles. you gently wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to touch him too roughly. chishiya pulls you closer, breathing in your familiar scent. “how long was i out for?”

“a couple days,” you say, pulling back to hold his face. “i was getting worried about you.” he hums, letting you brush his bangs behind his ears. you turn away, grabbing your bag and fishing through it for something before turning back to him. “here, i found some antibiotics earlier.” chishiya takes the pill bottles, reading the labels. “there’s a hospital not too far from here. i thought about moving you, but i didn’t wanna make it worse.”

“thank you,” chishiya says. and he means it. you simply nod, giving him a small smile.

you’ve always been easy to read. your emotions are portrayed across your face at every moment. he never has to question how you’re feeling. at first, he thought it was a weakness. letting everyone know how you feel means manipulating you should be easy. but you’re smarter than that. now, he sees it for what it is: you. your personality. you didn’t let the games change who you are the way he did.

chishiya watches as you empty the rest of your bag, preparing to make dinner for the night. your eyebrow twitches in concentration as you lug the firewood over, lighting the flames. you huddle next to him, leaning your head against his shoulder. he doesn’t move away from you, letting your body heat warm him more than the fire ever could.

you eat in a comfortable silence, shoulders occasionally knocking against one another. you set your bowl aside, shifting so your back leans against the wall behind you. “you know, i’ve always wanted to go camping,” you sigh.

“hm?” he raises an eyebrow, moving so he’s closer to you. “you’ve never been?”

“no. never had the time, i guess. and, i’m not the biggest fan of bugs,” you chuckle. “but i want to see the stars. you know, stargazing? fall asleep underneath the great beyond.”

chishiya moves ever so slightly so that your hands brush against one another. “i’ve been stargazing before.”

“yeah?” you lean away from the wall so you’re facing him, reaching out to grab his hand. “did you like it?”

“it’s a little boring,” he says, hoping the fire is covering how flushed his cheeks are. you intertwine your fingers together, soft skin rubbing against his calloused palms and scarred knuckles.

you hum, leaning against his shoulder again. “i think anything can be interesting with the right person.”

chishiya doesn’t respond, instead gently pulling you a little closer, his silent way of urging you to lean against him more. thankfully, you don’t move away, letting him wrap his arm around your waist.

“thank you,” he whispers. “for saving me.”

“i have feelings for you too.” you look up at him with wide eyes.

he can feel you looking up at him. “of course,” you whisper. you fall into silence for a few minutes before you speak again. “i think… i have feelings for you.” chishiya freezes for a few seconds, looking down at you. you’re focused on the fire burning in front of you, watching the flames.

“really?”

chishiya hums. “really.”

“can i kiss you?” chishiya smiles, hand moving to cup your cheek. he runs his thumb along your jawline before leaning down to press a sweet kiss against your lips. he can feel you smile into it before he pulls away, pressing another peck against your forehead.

“sleep,” he whispers.

“but what about your side?”

“i’ll be fine.” you hesitate but nod, leaning back against him and closing your eyes, getting some needed rest. chishiya watches you for a few minutes, waiting for the fire to go out before pressing another kiss against the crown of your head. he relishes in the feeling of your body against his before leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and falling asleep as well.

240 notes · View notes

ambrosialdesire · 2 years

Text

cacoëthes

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 reiner x fem!reader word count: 6.7k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, stalking, kidnapping mention, vomit mentions (nonsexual cause), gore/violence, slight misogyny, kinda aot spoilers if you haven't watched it before, all characters are 18+ synopsis: reiner has always kept his eyes on you ever since the two of you were still trainees. he's sorry for many things that he's done in his cursed life but he was never sorry for loving you. you loved him as only a friend and perhaps family, but your relationship with the bulky blond is not everything what it seems on the surface. not to him at least. a/n: tbh i just thought of this up as i reminisced on old middle school memories recently, i was a big s1 aot fan back in the day and just got back into it bc of one of my friends. i recently got a mad crush on reiner that i didn't have before and that same friend is dealing with the brunt of it lol this might be ooc since i haven't written any aot characters in years + they have slightly different personalities from back then. if this gets enough support (likes and reblogs), the second part will be posted as soon as possible! even if it doesn't, i'm still gonna be posting it anyways part one is just like a recap of reiner and the reader's relationship, there's nothing sexual in this part until the other parts. note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Reiner shouldn't be looking at you.

He should've stopped years ago, this could've all been prevented if he had just pulled his eyes away. Hell, he should've just kept his attention on Krista — no that's not her name now, what was it, Historia? — but he respected Ymir's wishes of betrothing her despite... everything that had happened to the girl. But he didn't and now he was in this hellish predicament.

You were born and raised in Paradis. Titans have destroyed most of humanity and the remnants of them have been living in the walls ever since; that's all you knew compared to the Marley-born warrior. He wished he could be as naïve as the devils that resided in this small island, it would be better to only know that you were the only lifeforms that lived decent lives hiding away from the Titans outside of the walls.

No, he shouldn't be calling you a devil. Fuck, he shouldn't be calling any of what-once-was his friends devils but he couldn't just erase the years of history that has been embedded into his head ever since he could comprehend language. At the same time, they have never done any evils towards him before he revealed the true identities of his group.

He loved his Paradisian friends — he wished he could say that in front of their faces without feeling so much melancholy shame and guilt — he loved serving for his country, he loved his family. But most importantly, he loves you.

It was an accidental captivation from a single hand-to-hand combat training session, where the 104th trainees were once unaware of the kind of future ahead of them. You were unfairly set against Reiner, Instructor Shadis even knew that but still made you two spar. You were shorter than him — most Paradis people were — and weaker, not just because you were a girl. He didn't notice you back then, there was nothing that the man thought at a first glance was interesting about you.

Nothing at all.

You were barely any threat despite being a devil, a lowly sheep in the den of a vicious lion.

You put your arms up in a defensive position anyways, shifting the weight on your feet. Your small fists were balled up tightly, as if you were going to actually do some damage with them. You knew that you couldn't beat him in pure strength but you readied yourself regardless, eyes glinting in determination. He held up his fists, a small yet confident smirk growing on his face. This was going to be a simple win.

"Don't go easy on me Braun."

"I have no intentions to L/N."

He remembered how quickly you dashed towards him, not fast enough that it rivals Annie's or Mikasa's speed, but fast enough for him to be caught off guard for a good second. He watched you bend down low, trying to get a low sweep on him. He had enough training back home to know how to avoid this kind of attack. Reiner jumped back, believing to have narrowly missed your foot and prepared himself to counter-attack.

But he could have never expected being tackled by the leg down, his back colliding into the dirt. All the air escaped his lungs as he felt you scramble to pin him down, a large grin plastered on your face.

"Aw Braun, I appreciate you going easy on me but really? I expected a big guy like you to try harder."

He bit back his tongue from saying anything in reply, watching you stand and dust off your uniform, still wearing that proud smirk. As he finally managed to collect his bearings, he asked you a question.

"Where'd you learn that move?"

"Leonhart." As to be expected of the Female Titan inheritor but he didn't expect her giving out sparring tips to anyone, especially Paradisians. You outstretched your hand towards him, waiting for him to take it.

"Y'know anything else from her?" He questioned, grabbing your hand as you lifted him up.

You pondered a bit, exaggerating your expression as you pretended to think about it, and finally answered him.

"Maybe, but I'll only reveal them to you if you actually put more effort into our sparring. I'm not a frail little girl y'know."

Reiner heftily laughed as you slapped his arm, walking away to resume your defensive stance. The two of you continued to spar, both of you counting down individual wins; it came down to a score of fifteen-ten, he won the whole thing but that didn't seem to falter your smile. You were simply ecstatic that he didn't supposedly pull back his punches, though he did quietly fret over the bruises that bloomed overnight on your face and arms the next day.

Bertolt noticed his staring problem immediately a few weeks after. Rather than looking at Krista per usual and daydreaming about marrying her, he was looking at you chowing down your meal next to Connie and Sasha. He whispered to him that what he's doing should cease immediately but he insisted that it would not interfere with their original mission. You were an enigma that he wanted to solve, that's all.

He swore to him that he had good intentions — that he was truly observing the kinds of enemies they were facing — but now he's not quite sure that they even stayed good to begin with.

Through his many inconspicuous observations, Reiner had found out that nothing seemed to pull that grin down on your face. Whether it be the instructors yelling out insults and commands, the rain pelting down on them during group training, or when it seemed like a rough day for every trainee, the smile you bore never faltered. It was somewhat confusing to him. How could you be so cheerful in this kind of world?

You preferred to hum during chores, the song never being the same each time he honed in from listening in on you. He gave up trying to memorize anything you hummed after the fifth one or so. He then noticed that on occasion when no one was around, you'd pick up the dandelions that grew in the small patches of grass of the camp, braiding them into small rings and wearing them until they fell apart. Reiner managed to pocket one when you accidentally dropped it, not noticing that it was gone. His good luck charm, as he liked to call it.

You liked to help others before focusing on yourself, taking on other people’s chores or taking the blame for things that weren't originally your fault. Reiner thought you were being too nice for your own good. You didn’t fit the type of person that was being used to other people’s advantages but you never seemed to mind.

You weren’t quite the evil Eldian he believed you to be, rather he considered you a fallen angel amongst the devils, led astray from the path you were presumed to take. Perhaps he can make you repent like he was trying to do back home, there was proof that you were worthy to be considered a Marleyan.

And that was the start of it, he knew he should've stopped there once he started to believe you’d be a perfect fit for Marley.

All this constant watching and being everywhere that you were at. Watching your every move and reaction. Taking things of yours that he shouldn't be taking.

Reiner was starting to believe that you were more than what you were leading on, his heart already knowing where his stance was on the subject.

Marriage didn’t seem bad, tying you down to him with a pretty golden band and children… wait, no. The two of you were still young and you were most definitely his enemy… right? But further down in the future… yeah, there's a possibility. A slim one, but one nonetheless.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

You had begun to take notice of Reiner's staring. There was always such a strange feeling of being watched and you finally had the guts to look around, seeing your old sparring partner just... there. Watching. It was always awkward whenever the two of you accidentally locked eyes, you having to be the first one that breaks contact. Reiner wasn’t a bad guy — from what you knew — but the way he just gazes at you, it gave you the creeps.

You asked Krista once if he seemed off, overhearing whispers among the other trainees of him liking her. Not that you were big on eavesdropping, you simply couldn't help it. She said that there was nothing wrong, maybe he’s just daydreaming and it just happens to be that he’s looking directly at you.

Bullshit, you had once bitterly thought. You wanted to tell him off but Bertolt managed to always drag him away before you could really confront him, so you eventually had forgotten about it.

But there was one thing that you couldn't forget when his friend pulled him away. It was the quick yet intense glare he bore when he glanced back at you. You had nothing against the guy, he may always be skittish, but you never felt like he was a bad person either.

So why did he have to look at you like that?

"Why did you decide to join?"

You jumped, almost tipping the bucket of water you had in your hands. Turning around, you squinted your eyes in the torch-lit night, slowly meeting the gaze of Reiner. Ah, so he finally decided to talk to you.

"A hello first would've been nice. Besides, why do you want to know Braun?" You questioned, placing the water-filled pail down so you wouldn't accidentally spill it on yourself or him.

"Guess you could say it's plain ol' curiosity L/N."

Pulling your lips in a thin line, you zipped it shut with your fingers and shook your head. You weren’t close to the man, hell, the only time you actually spoke to him was the sparring session. Why was he suddenly so interested in you?

“So you won’t say anything about it?” He frowned, putting one of his hands in his pants pocket.

“You have a plethora of answers from the others of what it could be. I could’ve been one of the survivors of the Colossal Titan’s attack. Maybe I’m just looking to join the Military Police for that comfortable life. Perhaps I could be a vengeful orphan just because my family attempted and failed to take back the wall. Whatever the answer could be, it’s all the same for each recruit.” You picked your bucket back up, feeling the liquid slosh around against your arms.

“Is that all you wanted to ask me because I have to take this water back to the kitchen for breakfast tomorrow.”

“No there’s something else,” He moved closer to you, a certain aura emitting as he approached closer. Reiner didn’t seem the type to hurt others without any reason. Even though you didn’t know him, you were acutely aware of his big brother-like personality with the other trainees. “If you could run away from all this, would you?”

“…What?” Confusion muddled your mind and you began to bite the inside of your cheek nervously.

“I’ll repeat it for you. If you could run away from all this, would you?” He asked again and you began to think. All you ever knew was the walls, anything outside of it was just a dangerous hellscape.

“Not really, there’s nothing out there for me. I have my friends and life is good here despite Wall Maria being currently swarmed. What am I even running from anyways Braun, the Titans? There’s just gonna be more out there anyways.” You then started walking in the direction of the dining hall, carefully making sure it wasn’t gonna spill on you.

“What if there was? Imagine an island with no Titans and life is even better there than here. No walls hiding you away from the land, just complete freedom.” You stopped, directing your head towards him. Why did he keep insisting upon the idea of this question? This was the only place in the world where humanity still thrives.

“I would still have to decline, it’ll still be no home of mine. I’d like to someday see the world without Titans but I’d probably be long gone by the time they’re all exterminated. Now goodnight Braun.” You finally walked away, feeling suddenly exhausted. Where was Bertolt when you needed him? Reiner was starting to scare you.

You left the man behind with a mess of thoughts in his head. Reiner did not agree with your mentality nor your standpoint in the matter, but that could change once he and his group bring you to Marley. Once you get there, you’ll see how life is much better than in Paradis. He brushed a quick thumb against a dried petal in his uniform pocket, the material cracking under his touch.

You have no other choice but to like Marley.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Never in your life have you thought your whole world could tip upside down again.

In a span of a few days after graduation, Wall Rose had become the same as Wall Maria, the Colossal Titan making its horrid and grand reappearance. The Trost District was a mass gravesite, there weren't enough words to describe your devastation of the lost lives of people you had considered as family. The heavy guilt that washed over you made you believe that if you were just a little more stronger and more decisive with your attacks, you could've — no — you would've saved them.

You threw up off the rooftop, the taste of bitter bile leaving a stain in your mouth. The stench of blood and ash wafted in all directions and it felt like you couldn't get any sicker. The images of your fellow companions getting wailing for help while getting ripped apart limb from limb and eaten alive was enough to keep you dizzy and nauseous.

Your tank was irrevocably damaged and you made the quick decision to isolate yourself to the nearest building as soon as possible before it sputtered out its last remnants, your body colliding into the red tiles.

You wanted to cry. It feels just like years ago but this time, you felt even more powerless than you were when you were a child. Even though you learned the ability to fight these oversized cannibals, you never felt so goddamn weak when dealing with the real thing. What good were you if you weren't able to use your gear?

This is where I die, you had bitterly decided. You let out a light pitiful laugh and knelt down, wiping away the tears that fell. Life was a cruel thing, wasn't it? No matter what, the moment you decided to join the regime was the same day that you would be contracting your life to an early demise. No matter what, you would die.

No matter what. No matter what. No matter what.

Not far from you, earth-shaking thuds grew near and a shadow began to cover over your shaking form. Closing your eyes with a nervous grin, you began to welcome in your godforsaken fate.

If you were unable to save your friends, what more humanity?

"L/N!" God? Was that you?

A splash of warm blood drenched the skin of your face, steam fanning off. The noticeable sound of hissing affirmed that someone sliced the nape of the Titan that was ready to consume you, their boots grinding against the tiles.

"You damn idiot! What do you think you're doing sitting there?!"

You peered through teary eyes, meeting a familiar hazel pair. Your shaky smile quivered downwards, a broken cry slipping out of your mouth as you finally realized that there was someone else alive.

Reiner was surprised, you were a considerably tough person and he believed that nothing could ever break your resilience. You tried to explain yourself to him like a kid that just got in trouble, blubbering out how weak you are and how you couldn't save your squad. It's not like you can look him in the eyes now, you know how disappointed he'd look at you. The girl that was known to be all happy-go-lucky in the 104th Training Corps.

The more you thought about it, the more you ended up breaking down into a complete sobbing mess, hiccupping the words sorry over and over again as you pulled your knees into your chest. Your tears darkened the white cloth of your uniform as you wept, the blood continuing to steam off of your face.

He rested his hand on your shoulder, seeing you cry almost made him regret putting his plan in motion. However, in order for them to retrieve the Founding Titan, they have to do this. There was no other choice in the matter.

"That's enough Y/N. You did your best with what you had. No one was expecting Colossal to come back like this, the least you could do now is honor your fellow fallen soldiers. Ensure that they didn't die for nothing. Don't die like a coward and stand up."

You sniffled as you picked your head up from your knees, wiping off the snot and tears with your jacket sleeve. As much as you didn't want to get up, he was right. How could you face your deceased comrades in the afterlife if you just let yourself die now? How selfish of you to let your life be taken away so easily when they fought so hard in order to fend off the Titans from coming any closer to the escaping civilians.

"My ODM gear broke, the gas cylinder got pierced by a rock I think." You mumbled quietly, voice sore.

"I'll carry you to the others then, we made a discovery in order to get into HQ to replace our supplies. A few of us with enough gas went out to find the unaccounted. I'm glad I found you before that Titan got to you."

The real truth was that Reiner had been panicking ever since he saw that you weren't with the other groups. He was terrified with the idea that he fucked up, the plan being the cause of your death. It was his proposal to locate the missing soldiers, making it seem like he genuinely cared about his fellow recruits. He didn't know what he would've done if he found your rotting corpse, knowing that it was completely his fault.

A miscalculation. A misstep. A mistake.

He put away his blades in its sheaths and lifted you up into his arms, making sure you were secured to him as much as possible. The positioning was awkward due to your gear still being strapped onto your body but it seemed that he didn't mind. You knew already that he was a strong man but for him to just lift you up like nothing even with your gear and his combined, you wondered if he still held back when the two of you sparred. Perhaps you were a little grateful that he did, not ending up with a broken bone at the end of it.

Unbeknownst to you, the man was screaming on the inside as he carefully maneuvered through buildings and rooftops. You closed your eyes each time he made abrupt turns and jumps, pulling yourself closer to his chest. He decided that he liked holding you, there will no longer be a day where he won't have his hands on you. He finally reached the others, seeing that the Abnormal Titan was still beating down the other Titans that were getting in its way and trying to consume it.

"What is that?"

He let you down slowly, the warmth escaping him as you were hypnotized from the scene in front of you. Unlike the other Titans you've seen so far, this Titan was strangely well built and its teeth lined the outside of its mouth. Of course you knew about Abnormals but this one was odd looking and it was unheard of for Titans fighting other Titans. Then again, the walls never broke down before and the only explorers of the outside were the Survey Corps.

"Our ticket into HQ. Look how it's drawing all the attention to itself." Reiner was right yet again. As this Abnormal was punching heads off and screaming, it seemed that the Titans were more interested in it rather than the humans inside. He picked you up once more, telling you to prepare yourself and crashed through the headquarters' window, making sure that none of the glass got on you. The others were relieved that he made it back with another teammate safely, and Armin began to explain the plan to rid of the seven remaining Titans on the inside.

You were put to be one of the gunslingers in the lift, the heavy weight of the rifle causing you to shift it around in your hands. Were you able to look one of these monsters in the eye and manage to incapacitate it?

“Stay back Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Reiner put his hand on your shoulder once more, shaking his head. Looks like that was going to be a habit now.

“You don’t have to be in the lift, we have enough people already in there.” You scoffed quietly, pushing past him to line yourself up with the others. You broke down once in front of him and now he wants to be your protector. Sure, it was nice of him to be worried about your safety but you trusted him and the others that they'll do their part of the plan without any issues.

“I've made the decision that I'm not going to be a coward Reiner,” He watched you step in and face him, giving him a small smile with a thumbs-up. “And I’m sure as hell not going down as one.”

The lift started its slow descent down and you settled in position, your finger nervously tracing around the trigger. None of you could shoot too early or too late, these guns were difficult to reload and it would lead all of you into an early grave. The heavy tension in the air could be cut with one of the blades and the group in the lift was shuffling around lightly. It would be a lie to say that none of you weren't scared, no one wants to die knowing they're going to be eaten alive.

The lift stopped, the air deathly still. Everyone clicked into position, guns pointed and drawn. Quiet, shaky breathing was the only thing that you heard besides the ground shaking stomps of the giants, their attention landing towards the group.

Someone behind you gasped in surprise as a Titan looked in his vicinity, the voice of Marco telling him to calm down and continue to wait until they were closer. Another person was shaking besides you, her hands unsteady on her weapon and her face pale. Sweat was beginning to accumulate on your forehead and it felt difficult to breathe suddenly.

You looked up with your open eye quickly, seeing Reiner up in the posts with the others. Taking in a deep breath, a burst of confidence ran through your body.

"Ready..." Your finger hovered over the trigger, a giant blue eye staring at you. One more step, just a little closer.

"Fire!" At the sound of Marco's command, you pulled the trigger and shot. The timing of the other soldiers' shots were inconsistent, the sounds of gunfire were deafening, and the smell of gunpowder wafted in the air. Either way, the Titans' eyes were incapacitated and the seven above can finish the job.

Your heart sank as two of them did not falter like the rest, watching Connie fall into the ground and Sasha look up in horror. They didn't cut deep enough and the Titans' eyes had already regenerated from the shots. It wasn't easy trying to kill them without their gear, horror sinking in as the Titans lumbered towards them. Your stomach twisted in knots as one jumped towards her as she apologetically screamed at it and Connie was helplessly backed into a pillar from the other. No one in the lift could do anything to assist them.

You fumbled with your rifle, reaching in your pocket for any more rounds. Luckily, the two most proficient fighters managed to finish them off before anyone else could react and you felt sweet relief as the lift was safely lowered down. Hopefully this would be the last and only time that you'd face a Titan that close without ODM gear. You picked up a new tank and replaced the broken one with it, beginning to stock up on your supplies.

"You alright?" Speak of the devil, here he was once again. You turned your head towards Reiner as he sat down next to you, refilling his tanks.

" 'M fine. You did good out there."

"I could say the same with you, must've been nerve-wracking seeing those things look at you that close."

"Yeah, but you had to jump down without using any of your gear while trying to hit their napes. That's way more difficult than what we did in the lift." He lightly chuckled and dismissively shrugged, saying that it was nothing but he did get nervous with Connie and Sasha. You agreed to that statement, you liked those two and they've always humored you during dinnertime. The two of you sat quietly afterwards until he started to talk again, trying to break the silence.

"Y'know you said my name earlier, not Braun but Reiner." Your cheeks flushed warm, switching the refill to your other tank.

"You did that too, back when you saved me." You attempted to lead him away from what you said, nervously biting your cheek.

"Why did you say it?" Reiner completely ignored you, insisting upon his question more.

"I could say the same to you."

"I only said your last name because you said mine like that when we first met, thought it would be even that way. So Y/N, why did you say my name?" Fuck, he had a point.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat and you sighed, pulling your lips in a line.

"I don't really know. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment or I just wanted to say your name for the first time. Just in case anything happened or something..."

Your voice trailed off to a quiet mumble, your face reddening and hot. You didn't mean for it to sound that it was insinuating something, you genuinely appreciated him saving your ass back there and getting your morale back up. It was simply a newfound gain of respect for him. Taking a peek at his expression, you saw that his mouth was slightly agape and he turned his face away from you. Was your response that surprising?!

Embarrassed, you finished refilling your tank and started strapping your gear back on. You apologized quickly, fumbling with your words and speed-walking away to get fresh blade replacements.

'Marriage, marriage, marriage, marriage.' Reiner's thoughts quickly ran through his head, his own cheeks crimson even though he had a firm expression as he watched you walk away. He hoped that you would continue to say his first name, you will have to once he weds you in Marley. But he wouldn't mind if they were replaced with dear or honey, oh he would not mind at all.

Events took a turn once you got out of HQ. It was found out that the Abnormal Titan that was killing off the Titans was Eren Jaeger. Ironic that the vengeful and overtly loud mouthed guy that swore to kill all Titans turned out to be a Titan himself. Though there were many complications — and many lives taken — in trying to complete this mission that Commander Pixis set, Eren managed to seal off the hole in Trost.

Two days later, the more experienced soldiers killed off the remainders and you were set for clean-up of bodies and body parts that littered the streets. It was a heart-wrenching task seeing limbs and partially eaten corpses of both citizen and soldier, most being completely unrecognizable. They were once part of a family. They were sons, daughters, siblings, maybe even parents themselves. Wherever they are now, you hope that they're at peace.

You tugged your cloth mask up more as you looked around for more corpses, walking around until you saw Jean stand still from afar. He was looking at a body, your own eyes widening as you slowly recognized whom it was. Marco Bodt. The guy that commanded the group to shoot a few days prior; if you remembered correctly, he was one of Jean's close friends during training.

You felt sorry for him, he had just found and lost his best friend simultaneously. Not even a minute ago, he was asking around if anyone had seen him, voice desperate for a reassuring answer. This world was so cruel to the ones that didn't deserve it, all of you were just trying to live comfortable lives but it'll never be that way. You turned away from the scene and went off to find another unaccounted for.

What a shame, a damn shame.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

You chose to go into the Survey Corps rather than the Garrison, mostly because you wanted to continue to fight those terrifying beasts in order to avenge the lost lives of your friends during the Battle of Trost. It would give you some kind of peace of mind knowing that you wouldn't hide away from the fight for them. After everything settled down, you befriended Reiner once you were able to catch him alone.

He was... different when you started talking to him more, you couldn't completely tell what it was but there was a feeling you had that he wasn't quite all there. He began to space out on some occasions, coming back down and acting quite odd, as if he was an entirely different person. The invasion was pretty traumatizing for everyone involved so you couldn't blame him for any mental change in his mind. You knew that you weren't definitely the same either, half of your friends had been decimated and nearly witnessing all of them die would never settle right in your mind.

Reiner had become pretty overbearing when it came to you, believing it was because of how you acted in Trost. He started hovering a lot, becoming a burden over your shoulders. He made sure that whatever you do didn't hurt you and if it did seem like a danger, he'd immediately take over. He'd say that he's just thinking about your safety, he'll handle it for you and to not worry, he prefers to do things for others. You could believe that part, you knew Reiner was the altruistic type but it was pretty aggravating when it was a constant all the time.

And just like Bertolt, he never left your side. Sometimes you'd be forced to hang out with the two of them and you didn't really mind, you got to know Bertolt more than the nervous guy he was known to be (plus he had finally stopped glaring at you weirdly). But you could only talk to Bertolt, any other male soldier you could only share short conversations with because Reiner would drag you away from them.

You weren't his lover, you mentioned to him once in a fit, you can freely talk to anyone you want and he has no say in who you could talk to.

You never were able to see the look in his eyes when you said that to him, stomping away angrily past confused scouts. This was one of the fights you had with him, ignoring him for a while until he apologized with how he acted but it would just repeat in a more inconspicuous way. Eventually, you just let him win because nothing you said about it stuck.

He'd handle you like you were fragile glassware and you despised it, you weren't a weak person, you were a damn Survey Corps soldier just like him. You were more than capable of defending and attacking, but for some reason, he still insists and insists that he can do it for you.

There is no reason someone like you should be doing things like this, that alone made you furious. He'd only leave you alone when you were put on cleaning duty or cooking. You wondered if he was like those kinds of people when it came to women but he wasn't like that to the other girls in the Corps, just you.

And yet, despite all these annoyances of his, you still considered Reiner a comforting friend. He'd listen to your rambles of mindless things and give you advice about them, trying to understand where you're coming from. He'd mostly call you a babbling idiot though but would say something stupid in return, which you always called him out for. You'd argue back and forth with smiles on your faces.

When you felt like you were in a slump, he'd pat your shoulder and then talk until you felt better. Or if that didn't work, then he'd tell you to put them up and the two of you would jokingly fight, letting you wrestle him down until your stomach hurt from laughing and the punching. He was most certainly like a big brother, dearly reminding you of your siblings.

You even started giving Reiner your special dandelion rings, seeing him wear them around his left ring finger. Did he know the meaning of that? He had to, he was old enough and his parents must've worn rings around him. You wanted to point it out to him but you'd chicken out, scared that you were gonna insinuate something that wasn't supposed to be interpreted that way.

The two of you were only friends, that was it. That was it, until the moments that led up to the day that you found out that Reiner and Bertolt were never who they really said they were.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Annie was found to be the Female Titan that killed many of the Corps members during the 57th Expedition, you never had expected her of all people to be a Titan shifter like Eren and a traitor.

For the first time in your friendship, Reiner hugged you. You didn't expect it, thinking that he was simply afraid that you were one of the bodies left behind and was only relieved that you were alive. The height difference between the two of you was quite a bit, he had leaned down and nestled his face into your neck, arms wrapped around you tightly. He was a toasty kind of warm, similar to sitting next to a fire during the winter.

You told him that everything will be alright now that the threat has been neutralized. He mumbled that he was afraid of losing you too, your heart skipping a beat. In response, you tried to ease his mind by promising him that you would never leave his side anytime soon. There was no possibility that you were a shifter like Annie and Eren, absolutely no way.

He was quiet for a moment, finally lifted his head out of the crook of your neck, his eyes intensely staring into yours before softening up. There was a newfound determination that you could faintly see before he pulled away, thanking you for consoling him.

It was odd, like a switch went off in his head.

The final incident came after the capture of Annie, when a handful of soldiers were presumed to be one of her accomplices and put outside of Wall Rose in an abandoned mansion. You weren't a suspect but Reiner and Bertolt were, and the worry started setting in. There wasn't a doubt in mind that you had for them, you could never see them as traitors to humanity.

Reiner did his duties all the time and he was a diligent soldier, he was also a good friend to all other members. Bertolt, though cowardly and needed a push in the right direction sometimes, has always been devoted as a soldier; he did graduate behind Reiner in third place after all.

There was a sudden breach in Wall Rose despite it being completely known to be sealed on the inside. Everyone assumed that another hole had been formed in another place by the Colossal in secret, so squadrons were sent out to scour the area to locate the breach. You were concerned that the suspected group that was contained in the area at the time of the breach had been attacked, anxiety racking your mind.

You overheard some of the soldiers that came from the search mention that there was no hole, saying that whoever saw the Titans must be going crazy.

That wasn't right. The witness reports said that Titans were definitely seen in the interior, they couldn't be wrong. Titans were quite hard to miss, they were quite literally large human things. It was inexplicable but you didn't focus much on it, being told to assist the incoming citizens before searching for the contained group.

You couldn't rack your mind in how many twists and turns you've been through throughout the years, but the Survey Corps finally found the group in a torn apart abandoned castle surrounded by a few more Titans. Ymir was revealed to be another Titan shifter — was anyone else here a Titan shifter because it seemed to be never-ending — but she had seemingly no intent to hurt the others as she saved the group she was with from death.

You found out that Reiner got bit from a Titan, retrieving the injury from pushing one out of the castle through a window. You were half astounded and half terrified with the new knowledge that he was way stronger than you anticipated. You thanked Krista — now actually known as Historia — for taking care of Reiner's injury, scolding him after for putting himself in reckless danger like that.

Assisting the injured on top of Wall Rose, you sighed in exhaustion as you sat next to Ymir's sleeping form with Historia. The past few months have been hectic as ever, did the soldiers before you deal with things like this? Five years ago and beyond that, there were no such thing as shifters or breaches in the walls. It would simply be incomprehensible back then that such a thing would’ve existed.

You turned your head in the direction of Reiner and Bertolt who were occupied with speaking to Eren. You weren't able to hear what they were saying until Reiner started to raise his voice, scrunching your eyebrows together.

Something was off. He was rambling, looking like he had completely lost it. Bertolt looked horrified, Eren was nervously laughing. Reiner... what was he talking about?

Mikasa suddenly slashed at the two, cutting Reiner's hand off and slitting Bertolt's neck. You almost screamed in shock, shooting up onto your feet until steam came off of them, an all too familiar occurrence that only happened to… Titans.

Sudden bright flashes of lights blinded you and lit up the wall with a threatening intensity, hot steam nearly blew you off your feet before you quickly latched yourself onto the wall with your gear. To your horror, the Colossal and Armored Titan formed right in front of your eyes and everything you had once known about them shattered to bits.

Reiner had grabbed ahold of Eren as he fell off the wall and Bertolt's monstrous half remained on top, hand reaching towards Ymir. The shock of seeing the monster that destroyed your home years ago was really your friend in disguise caused you to freeze up the second he grabbed her.

You thought you could trust them, you had high hopes that they weren't bad people like how the higher-ups thought they were. They were liars, they lied to everyone and they broke your trust, more so yours with Reiner. He was terrible, truly terrible.

You snapped back to reality as his gigantic hand wrapped around you — the still-passed out girl in his other fist — a scream ripping out of your throat. You struggled and banged your fists against the burning hot flesh of his hand, beginning to beg for Bertolt to not consume you. It fell on deaf ears as he opened his mouth, your eyes wide with horror.

The last thought you had as you and Ymir were dropped in was that you'd never forgive them for this, you'll never forget what they have done.

152 notes · View notes

d-andilion · 2 years

Text

sing me a tragedy

(geraskier, E, canon compliant, blood origin spoilers, getting together, angst with a happy ending, vague and handwavy smut, it barely counts tbh, 2.6k)

read on ao3

Hidden in the underground, far from the beaten path, Geralt watches his bard whip a crowd of humanity’s most despised into a beer-fueled frenzy. Not to earn their supper or their lodgings this time; the elf who owns this worn but well-loved waystation refused to accept coin for either after what the Sandpiper did for her grandson, seeing the boy on a ship to her arms. Right now, Jaskier plays because their fellow patrons chanted his name until he obliged.

Geralt has to admit that Jaskier has more than proven himself as a travel companion these past few weeks. Since leaving the safety of Kaer Morhen, Ciri in Yennefer’s care for the season, finding places to keep their heads low has been a challenge. A challenge, at least, among humans. The Sandpiper, however, has won great favor with elves, dwarves, halflings, and just about every other intelligent species on the Continent. In their carefully concealed taverns and speakeasies, Jaskier is received like royalty.

“Sing loud and proud

The Song of the Seven

Be you halfling or gnome,

Or Dwarven or Elven”

This song is a new one. In fairness, most of Jaskier’s tunes are new to Geralt these days. Jaskier hasn’t abandoned his older repertoire, but he avoids large swathes of it to ward off any unwelcome attention. This one, though, feels different than the other additions to Jaskier’s catalog since their parting. More heroics than heartbreak, and a fiery call to action that sets it apart from his typical drama and sensation.

So much about Jaskier is different than Geralt remembers, his songs being the least of it. A few years is nothing in the grand scheme of their history, even less compared to all the years Geralt has lived, but it feels as though decades have slipped between his fingers. So many things have changed, things that Geralt didn’t realize he’d come to see as fixtures in his world until they disappeared, some of them forever.

There’s the lute, for one thing. Jaskier has been cagey about how exactly a brand new elven lute came to be in his possession after the first one was destroyed against the side of his head, but it plays as beautifully for him as Filavandrel’s ever did. It’s nearly identical in style, too, with dark wood and golden patterns etched into it. Anyone who didn’t spend half a lifetime watching Jaskier’s long fingers dance along the strings would never be able to tell that this lute’s pattern of markings is different from its predecessor’s.

There’s the outfit, too. The waistcoat is similar enough to patterns and styles that Jaskier has worn before, but the hat and jacket make him look like a third-rate imitation of a storybook pirate. It’s nothing at all like the bright-colored matching ensembles he used to wear, though it’s nearly as impractical if not more so. Geralt honestly can’t tell if he hates it because it’s ridiculous or because it doesn’t fit into the gallery of bold greens and soft blues and glaring reds that roll through his mind when he thinks of his bard.

And there’s the bard himself, of course. Not really Geralt’s anymore if he ever was. He’s still loud and dramatic and filled to the brim with useless romantic notions about what the world is or ought to be. But there’s something lurking underneath it all now, something harder and fiercer behind his eyes than anything Geralt has seen in him before. The harshness of a man who’s seen the senseless death and darkness of war. The bitterness of one who’s been left behind and expects to be again.

There’s none of that in him when he performs, though. Or else he hides it far more efficiently. Even to Geralt’s honed eye, Jaskier exudes only joy when he sings.

“No oppressor can hide them

Carry their glories and rise!”

Jaskier finishes with a roaring flourish and the crowd chants his words back to him twice as loud. This Song of the Seven may be more popular than Toss a coin ever was. Geralt has never seen an audience warm so quickly to a new tune, much less poor folk in a war-torn country. These people need hope now more than anything.

The barkeep pushes a pair of ales at Jaskier as he passes by and refuses to take a cent for them despite Jaskier’s best efforts. He finally gives up when she threatens him with a broom, turning to Geralt’s dark corner of the room.

“That’s new,” says Geralt as Jaskier sits down, passing a stein to his side of the table.

Jaskier crooks an eyebrow at him and smirks. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that. Before, he might not have thought twice about teasing so light as that, but this, too, has changed. Sometimes there’s banter and sometimes there are digs from that snarl of discontent that still rears up between them, and Geralt can never really be sure which he’s getting.

Jaskier takes pity on him, smiling easily. “It came from a story I heard in Temeria,” he says. “There’s a bard in it, you know. And a witcher.”

He looks for a moment like he means to say more, but then the corner of his mouth twists sharply and he snaps it shut with an audible click. Jaskier smiles again, this time cruel and close-lipped.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

Before Geralt can think of anything to say, any comfort or correction to whatever it is he’s done wrong this time, Jaskier stands up and flees to a nearby table of dwarves. He doesn’t look back.

An hour or so later, the revelry dies down and the bar room clears out but for a few stragglers. Jaskier is among them, across the room now from Geralt at an empty table with a drink Geralt knows is almost completely full. Geralt watched the bard carefully while he made round after round of the room, soaking up the occupants’ stories and sharing his own entirely fabricated ones. Half a dozen rounds were shoved into Jaskier’s hands, and he took them gratefully with bright smiles, but he abandoned them just as quickly when their givers were occupied.

When Geralt found Jaskier in Oxenfurt, he couldn’t be parted from a bottle for his life. Now his drinking comes and goes. Some days he dulls his senses with wine from dusk till dawn. Some days are like this: feigning all the trappings of a man in his cups without downing more than a mouthful.

Geralt leaves his own stein half-full with a few coins beside it and turns for Jaskier’s table. Another Geralt might have left his friend to sulk, but that Geralt wouldn’t have used the word ‘friend’ to describe Jaskier, not even in his head. This one is trying to make amends, still, all these many months later.

If Jaskier hears him coming, he doesn’t show it. Geralt sits on the bench beside him, facing out towards the room with his back against the table, and Jaskier doesn’t give him so much as a glance. Their shoulders just barely brush.

“Tell me your story,” says Geralt. “About the bard and the witcher.”

Jaskier fixes him with a confused frown. “It doesn’t—”

“Tell me anyway.”

Geralt watches Jaskier watch him through a long, pregnant pause. Blue eyes, still so bright in the low light, search Geralt’s face and he can’t tell whether they find what they’re looking for or not. Either way, Jaskier huffs a humorless laugh to himself and speaks.

“It was a long time ago, just before the Conjunction.”

Jaskier pauses again like he’s waiting for Geralt to correct him. There were no witchers before the Conjunction; there was no need for them. Geralt doesn’t say so, though. Instead, he waits patiently for Jaskier to continue.

“The witcher was a warrior,” he says. “A protector, wrongfully exiled for defiling a princess.”

Jaskier eyes Geralt again, warier this time. Geralt feels that twist in his gut the way he always does, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“The bard was a runaway, fleeing a life that was chosen for her.” Jaskier grins at that, small and wistful. “Fate brought them together, but they chose to walk side by side.”

It’s not a pretty story, exactly, but it’s the kind of story that has always caught Jaskier’s attention. A ragtag group of heroes, an indomitable foe, magic, monsters, and romance to tie it all together. It might even be true for all Geralt knows. The way Jaskier tells it, his voice soft and his phrases unembellished, so unlike his usual way of weaving tales, makes the whole thing almost believable. They’ve all seen stranger things.

Geralt doesn’t miss the shift in the air around Jaskier when he talks about the Lark and her witcher. His heart beats just the slightest bit faster and his scent deepens imperceptibly to anyone who doesn’t know it better than their own. Geralt isn’t blind to his own reaction either, the heaviness in his chest that grows and grows.

Contrary to popular belief, Geralt isn’t stupid. It’s not that he doesn’t know how much he wants Jaskier. The depths of that desire plunge too deep to go unnoticed, and it has holed up inside him for so long, he doesn’t know who he would be without it. It’s not that he doesn’t know how Jaskier feels either. The bard isn’t subtle and he has never insulted either of their intelligence by pretending to be.

What Geralt doesn’t know has never been the problem. It’s what he does know. And what he knows, has always known, is that acting on his wants would be a singularly terrible idea.

But that was before. Before Geralt’s own Child Surprise foretold the end of the world and all of them with it. Before he landed with his own feet in another sphere of demons and monsters beyond his wildest imaginings. Before all of them wound up tangled in a war with nightmares, more terrifying than any foolish mistake, hidden around every corner.

Before Geralt knew what it felt like to lose Jaskier. And before he knew with crushing certainty that to have done so without ever knowing what it felt like to have Jaskier, really have him, is worse than any fear Geralt has ever felt.

“She killed him, in the end, to end his suffering,” says Jaskier softly.

“Not a very happy story,” Geralt replies.

“Some of the best stories are tragedies. It’s romantic.”

Geralt frowns. “But he dies at the end.”

Jaskier smiles miserably. “I think you and I both know that love doesn’t always have a happy ending.”

That plucks something sharp in Geralt’s chest, something that twists at the bitter shadow in Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck it, Geralt thinks, fuck all of it. He takes Jaskier's chin between his thumb and his forefinger and kisses him before good sense can frighten either of them away again.

There’s a gut-wrenching fraction of a second where Jaskier’s mouth is still against Geralt’s, but within the same heartbeat, he’s kissing back and back and back. Jaskier’s hand curls around Geralt’s wrist, holding himself in place as if Geralt would ever let him go now. His lips part for Geralt’s tongue with a soft groan and he tastes like his last sip of ale. Geralt feels drunk on it, on Jaskier, the plush warmth of his mouth, and the scent of his growing arousal filling Geralt’s nose.

The harsh scrape of chair legs on a wooden floor startles them apart. Geralt’s head snaps up to find the barkeep straightening her stools, eyes focused downward but a knowing grin on her lips.

When he turns back, Jaskier hasn’t pulled away but his uneasy expression says that the thought is playing on his mind. He looks at Geralt like he’s waiting to be pushed away, even as he clutches Geralt’s wrist. Geralt pulls Jaskier back to him, fingers still cradling the bard’s chin, until their noses brush.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks and his hot breath rolls over Geralt’s lips carrying the taste of his mouth to Geralt’s tongue, and even that faint echo makes Geralt’s heart stutter.

“Kicking off another tragedy, I expect.”

Jaskier pushes their foreheads together. “You can still stop this one.”

“No,” says Geralt and it feels like surrender. “No, I can’t.”

The small hearth in their room is dark and cold when they stumble inside. Geralt can see well enough to guide them both, but he tears himself away from Jaskier’s hungry kisses to light the fire. When it’s finally ablaze and he turns to find the bard sprawled out on their bed, discarding the last of his clothing, Geralt is glad he took the time.

Even if only in the dim red light, cast over with long and flickering shadows, he wants to see this.

This—miles of bare skin, calloused and scarred in places it wasn’t when last Geralt laid eyes on it, and quivering as he presses his lips to every place he should have been there to protect. Jaskier is so warm to touch, so much warmer than Geralt, his emphatically human heart hammering away in his chest for both of them.

This—achingly familiar hands with long fingers and soft palms, gliding over the shine of sweat on Geralt’s chest and his arms and his back. Jaskier is so gentle with his touches, as though Geralt could break beneath them, as though Jaskier would ever break him even if he could. But then Geralt touches just so and nails bite into his skin and he longs to see their matching bruises side by side.

This—a hungry mouth that kisses wherever it can and urges Geralt to give, to take. Every graze of his fingers, his lips, his tongue, draws the sweetest sounds. Jaskier is so liberal with his voice, utterly without shame as he tells Geralt exactly what he needs and how good he feels, as he begs him to touch me darling, there, again, more, more, please, please, please…

Every sense, every synapse, every nerve is straining to capture this moment because if their world ends tomorrow, Geralt wants his last memory to be the way Jaskier clings to him, sings to him, as he pushes inside.

Each second stretches into a thousand and disappears in an instant all at once. An eternity is lived in the space between each of Jaskier’s gorgeous moans and breathless cries, but too soon, Geralt feels himself hurtling over the edge. He comes with Jaskier’s name on his lips and the hot burn of tears behind his eyes.

They lie there, silent but for their breath, while their sweat dries and the fire burns to embers. Geralt fits himself to Jaskier’s back, a knee between his, an arm circling his waist, and his face tucked into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. The bard reaches back to tangle his fingers in Geralt’s hair and begins to hum an unfamiliar tune.

“That’s new,” Geralt rumbles, muffled by Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier hums in agreement. “I think it’s about a bard and a witcher.”

Geralt takes a few long, slow breaths before he replies. “Another tragedy?”

Jaskier presses the tips of his fingers against Geralt’s scalp and massages along the back of his head until he finds a spot he discovered years ago while scrubbing drowner brains from Geralt’s hair, the one that elicits a sound very near purring. Geralt no longer expects an answer, but he gets one after his eyes have long fallen shut, whispered into the gathering darkness.

“Not this time.”

my masterlist

#blood origin spoilers #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #my fic #mine

227 notes · View notes