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taechaos · 3 years

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Little Secret

pairing: step-dad!Jungkook x fem!Reader

synopsis: From a fun celebration to not getting to the bathroom on time, you pee yourself in the middle of the living room and your step-dad has to take care of you.

warnings: smut, pseudo-incest, urine, fingering in tub, dubcon

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is the disgusting fic i was talking about 🥰 not proofread, just smth i wrote in one day for fun. enjoy as long as u dont hate piss lol 😔👍

It's a night of celebration—the end of high school. It's the best celebration yet because you, after surviving hell of twelve years, are at the legal age to drink in a bar with your friends; the best night you can recall in your drunken state. Dancing, singing karaoke, giggling: pure joy.

So why are you crying while stumbling around in the living room? You sob and hiccup with a hand over your face and the other holding the couch for support. It has never been so difficult to stand straight, and you're thankful your mother's sleep is so heavy that she wouldn't wake up from your wails.

But your step-dad's sleep is as light as a cat's, and you don't hear his heavy footsteps or grumbles as he climbs down the stairs. He rubs the sleep away from his eyes and they widen the moment they lay on you. He's about to call your name until his eyes trail down to the dark patch on your jeans. He doesn't need to ask why you're crying so loudly; it's easy to tell you're under the influence, and well, it apparently makes you very emotional since you're so upset about peeing your pants.

But you're not exactly doing anything about it.

"Oh, it's okay," Jungkook coos and walks over to you to bring you into a light hug.

You snuggle your face into his loose white shirt and sniffle. "I didn't– I didn't mean to," you snivel. "I-I couldn't get to the," you inhale shakily, "b-bathroom on time."

"That's okay," he runs his fingers through your hair soothingly, equally disheveled as his. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It happens; it's not a big deal. We'll get you cleaned up."

"I-I ruined it!"

"The washing machine—"

"No," you whimper pathetically, "it's ruined. My denim—" your head rolls back along with your eyes to the back of your skull. You go limp for a few seconds, and Jungkook holds you tightly. Just as he's about to ask you if you're alright, you continue, "the denim is forever ruined!"

Stepping away from his clutches, you rub your palms against the knees of your jeans and then the damp crotch area. The crotch and knees feel different; it makes your face scrunch up in sorrow. "Never the same," you exhale in a trembling voice.

Jungkook watches you in surprise and amusement. You tend to be closed off around him, well in the past year that he's been married to your mother at least. It makes him feel guilty to like you better drunk—extroverted.

"We'll get you new jeans then," he tries to comfort, but you only shake your head.

"Feel it."

He sighs with a breathy chuckle and feels your jeans as you asked. He touches your pockets and then your crotch, practically cupping your heat. It's still warm with your urine and you pout at the look he gives you. You misinterpret it as disappointment, but it's a look of suppressing laughter. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. I'll wash it, okay? Your mother won't know."

You scoff and wipe your tears away. "Thank you. I-I'm very sorry, so sorry."

"Don't be. Let's go to your room," he slings his arm around your shoulder and walks you upstairs. You hold onto his waist and keep your gaze downcast.

Your hiccups don't cease when you face the door of your bedroom. He twists the doorknob and lets you enter first. With puckered lips and tear stains on your face, you wait for him to come after you. He does, and then turns away from you. "Hand your jeans over to me, okay? I won't look."

He hears you shuffling behind him, and you don't take long to place the tainted pants in his waiting open palm. Your feet don't stay planted on the floor and you eventually land on your bed. The bathroom is right behind you, but you can't muster the energy to sit up nor open your eyes. "My underwear," you mumble with the side of your face squished against the sheets.

At your indirect request, he cranes his neck and takes a peek at you. You're lying on your stomach and his eyes unintentionally travel to your ass. For being your step-dad, he thinks it to be okay for him to drink in this erotic sight. It isn't as if he's about to take advantage of a drunk girl, no less his step-daughter.

"You can't take them off?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head.

He blows out a deep breath and stands before your feet. The sight of your wet panties isn't meant to be attractive, but it does get his stomach in knots. He grabs the edges of your underwear and asks you to lift your hips, which you do sluggishly. They're off within seconds and he picks up your jeans from the floor before aiming to exit. He has to get out and cleanse his mind of all his filthy thoughts from seeing your bare pussy two inches from his mouth. "Don't fall asleep before taking a shower first," he reminds with flushed cheeks and pushes the door open.

"Help me," you whine childishly before he can leave.

He sighs your name as if exhausted—reluctant.

"Please!"

As if it's not bad enough that he got a small glimpse of your pussy, now you're asking him to give you a shower while completely naked. He's trying to be respectful by keeping his focal point at bay, but your ass is still hanging out while you're on the verge of a tantrum.

"Oh God," he mutters to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose. He gives in.

After throwing your dirty clothes in the washing machine downstairs, he returns quickly so he doesn't catch you fast asleep. Thankfully you're still awake, but not so alert.

He warns you to keep your eyes open while he fills the tub in your bathroom. There's a water bottle on your bedside table, which he tells you to drink lots from until he's back. He throws in a pink bath bomb sitting on the edge of your tub so you can hopefully relax. Never has he seen someone be in such a childlike headspace after drinking.

But childlike doesn't fit the current scenario when he's lying under your naked body in his boxers in the bathtub because you seem to be a lot clingier when drunk. You don't move a lot, which is a plus, but your butt is pressed against his crotch, which doesn't make the situation any better.

"I'm sorry," you slur sleepily, "I really didn't mean to." He can pick up the strong scent of vodka lingering around you better in this position.

He tightens his arms around your shoulders with his hands clasped above your chest as he whispers, "Don't apologize, sweetheart. You won't remember this when you wake up, and I'll keep it a secret. Don't you worry about a thing."

"Why are you crying?" he asks softly when you start to sob again. It's a dry cry, and he's certain you don't know what you're doing yourself at this point.

"I can't do anything," you complain, "I'm so tired and-and I can't move."

He stays silent so you can comfortably babble on and on about nothing until you say, "Wash me. Please."

Jungkook lightly pecks your neck and eyes your tits before dipping his hands in the warm, pinkish water and scrubbing your shoulders. You sigh at his gentle touch, prompting him to switch to your knees. "My knees are not dirty," you grumble incoherently.

"Hm? You're not dirty?"

"I'm not dirty there."

"And you're dirty where?" He's teasing you, knowing exactly where you want to be cleaned, but that'd further agonize him with how little freedom his erection has under the tight restraints of his briefs. It wouldn't be appropriate of him to use you to get rid of it, but is it against the law to simply bathe you?

"Down," you vaguely murmur.

He can't see anything of your lower region from the courtesy of the blanket of colorful hue that the bath bomb transitioned to, which both annoys and relieves Jungkook. But his hand only listens to you as it trails down to your pelvis. "Here?"

You nod against his shoulder, and that's all the confirmation he needs to palm your vulva. You gasp and slightly jump before adjusting to the feeling of his hand. The adjustment proves to be futile when a small moan slips past your lips at his fingers grazing your labia.

“You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you breathe with a shake of your head. “I want to be clean, otherwise no sleep.”

“That’s right,” he chuckles and starts running his fingers down your folds. Stopping at your clit, he starts to circle the hood to thoroughly give you the cleaning you desire so much. It isn’t with any ill intentions that he gently cups your pussy and moves it up and down while you squeak out moans without shame. After a few rubs and touches, he's confident there is no more remaints of your drunk mistake. “You’re clean now, love. Want to go to bed?”

“I’m not,” you whine loudly and hold his wrist to keep his hand in place. “I’m not clean,” you cry out and he knows you’re going to start sobbing again, which you do—except your volume might risk waking your mother.

He tries to hush you, but you don’t stop with the crocodile tears. “Baby, baby, look at me,” he pulls your face by your chin, but you escape his grip easily and continue with your tantrum. “I won’t clean you if you don’t look at me.”

With your newfound defiant attitude, it's with a few huffs and puffs that you finally face him and he silences your sniveling with a press of his lips. It's not a kiss in his defence; neither of you are moving your mouths, which he appreciates now that you've gone quiet.

Now that the risk of your mother waking is taken care of, his hand is on your hidden heat again. At this point, it's easy to tell you're not worried about being clean anymore. You aren't sleepy, though you keep your eyes closed from being in this intimate proximity with Jungkook, you're in need of a climax. It's a shame that he's in a similar state as you, but if you're drunk to the point of asking your step-dad to touch you, it wouldn't be clever of him to ask you to return the favor.

Despite his clear lack of vision, Jungkook is a human anatomy professor and he finds your clit and squeezes it between two fingers easily, not to mention he's already experienced in the sex field. Your lips part into a whine and he opens his mouth to swallow your sounds as he slowly rubs your clit.

You lean into the—now labelled as—kiss needily, and he lowers his hand to poke at your entrance with his middle finger. He stupidly peeks an eye open to see if he's located it correctly, but your subtle thrust is approval enough. He cautiously shoves it inside your tightness and uses his palm to continue pleasuring your sensitive nub, grabbing your tit with his other hand to play with your nipple.

"Oh God, hmmm," you moan against his lips and sloppily make out with him, smearing your slick saliva all over. He hums into you, unbothered by your raw affection as he thrusts his finger inside and pinches your nipple to get you to cum faster. He can't have you sobering up any time soon.

"Are you close, love?"

You murmur something in response, but it's not intelligible enough for him to understand, so he assumes you're at least getting somewhere. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, his palm against your clitoris; massages your boob more roughly and moves his mouth down to kiss your neck. As he's giving you a small love bite, your breathing turns into mere gasps with little broken moans. If he could, he would add a second finger to your pussy, but your clenching hole doesn't feel so ready when he curls his knuckle.

You clutch onto his hair, chanting, "I'm gonna pee again, I'm gonna pee again…"

"Try to hold it in, baby," he cuts in hoarsely without ceasing his movements. He does slow down when your legs start to shake and tremble, splashing the water as you do as he leaves calming pecks on your neck, collarbone, and a few on your lips. Not as a warning to lower your voice—your last moans are ones to savour—but to ride out your high. He has no idea if you did squirt in the tub, but he isn't going to take another shower to wash it down. He wants to feel it on his skin.

He can feel your pounding heartbeat under his hand as your body spasms and grinds on his erection. A moment of silence passes with your shaky inhales and exhales while he pets your hair.

When he feels you calm down, he asks, "Do you feel clean now?"

"Bed."

"Alright," he whispers and kisses your cheek. Your eyes are closed and he predicts you'll be fainting soon, so he pulls the plug with ease and waits for the water to drain before pulling you up by your pits. It's a bit of a struggle because of your slippery wet skin, as well as the water weight on you, but manages to get you out and immediately throws you on the bed. He grabs a towel hanging on the bathroom door and dries you before himself.

Jungkook considers himself an honorable man most of the time, but he can't refrain from jerking off to your naked body while you doze off. Like he said, you won't remember a thing, so it'll be his little secret as he releases on your tits with a groan. He wipes off the evidence of his unorthodox actions, pecks you and your pretty little pussy before dressing you in your pajamas.

He puts on his clothes and tucks you in before leaving your room with a quiet, "Good night, sweetheart."

All there's left to do is persuade you into doing this again while sober, because he didn't marry your wretched bitch of a mother after two months of meeting if not to have you all for himself. He doesn't mind letting you in on that one secret with time.

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jjk smut #thekpopnetwork #networkbangtan #kpop smut #jeon jungkook smut

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magnetic-rose · 3 years

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Why Spones is a top-tier ship

AKA “the inherent homoeroticism of annoying the shit out of your co-worker.”

Spock and McCoy have a complicated relationship. A lot of their bickering and ideological differences lead fans to believe that they hate each other, but that’s an over-simplification of the truth. The reality is that Spock and McCoy are extremely close friends who care about each other deeply. Though sometimes their bickering turns serious during stressful situations, for the most time they seem to enjoy the banter. A common mischaracterization of their relationship seems to put McCoy as the bully and Spock as the victim. In truth, there are many times where Spock will say something specifically to get a rise out of McCoy. They fight. That’s how they show affection, not disdain. In fact, one could argue that some of their bantering have a flirtatious tone to it.

Kirk: Mister Spock, regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I assume, felt nothing.

Spock: On the contrary Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me.

McCoy: ‘Tis a pity brief blindness didn’t increase your appreciation for beauty, Spock. (Operation -- Annihilate!)

Spock is a half-Vulcan, half-Human who has mostly chosen to follow his Vulcan heritage. As such, he is a being of almost pure logic. The truth about Vulcans are that they are secretly beings who feel things very deeply and intensely, and they feel the need to keep a tight lid on their emotions as to not succumb to them. McCoy, on the other hand, is a regular human. He’s a deeply emotional man who cares about others. One could argue that McCoy is almost too empathetic, as he lets his emotions rule him. Spock and McCoy are polar opposites; the brain and the heart, the logic and the emotion, the super-ego and the id.

Despite these differences, the two men are similar in a lot of ways. They’re both men of science, men of peace, and they both care very deeply for their Captain. They’re both self-sacrificing morons, to the chagrin of the other. Spock will prioritize McCoy’s life even when both of them know it’s not the logical choice to do so. Likewise, McCoy will take a hit for Spock even when they both know the Vulcan is stronger and better equipped to deal with pain than the doctor.

Spock: (In the middle of a blizzard) In this severe cold, we cannot survive much longer.

McCoy: Leave me here, Spock.

Spock: We go together or not at all.

McCoy: Don’t be a fool. My hands and face are frostbitten. I can’t feel my feet. Alone, you have a chance. Now do what I say. Go try to find Jim.

Spock: We go together! (All of Yesterdays)

In the episode, “The Empath,” Kirk, Spock and McCoy have to choose someone to be offered as sacrifice to be tortured by a group of aliens. Kirk obviously volunteers, but gets put to sleep by McCoy with a tranquilizer. Spock then states that he’ll offer himself up, as he has the higher chance of surviving the torture. McCoy then proceeds to sedate Spock as well, and sacrifices himself to be tortured by the aliens.

Spock: While the captain is asleep, I am in command. When the Vians return, I shall go with them.

McCoy: You mean, if I hadn't given him that shot

Spock: Precisely. The choice would have been the captain's. Now it is mine.

(McCoy turns away. Spock sits to carry on working. Gem puts her hand on Spock's shoulder, and smiles. McCoy comes up behind him and gives him an injection.)

Spock: Your action is highly unethical. My decision stands. (Spock falls asleep next to Kirk.)

McCoy: Not this time, Spock.

Underneath all the fighting and disagreements, there is a deep caring between Spock and McCoy that manifests itself into protectiveness towards each other. In “All of Yesterdays,” Spock is constantly showing concern for McCoy after he almost died of hypothermia. In aftermath of McCoy’s torture in “The Empath,” Spock is seen hovering over his body and caressing his face, worry written into his features. On the other hand, while McCoy constantly makes fun of Spock for his lack of emotions, he’s also highly aware of the Vulcan’s mental state and protective of it when others threaten to shatter his resilience.

McCoy: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him.

Philana: You must be joking, Doctor.

McCoy: You'll destroy him.

Parmen: We can't let him die laughing, can we?

McCoy: (Watching as Spock starts to cry) I beg you! (Plato’s Stepchildren)

The episode “Amok Time” also demonstrates McCoy’s perceptiveness of Spock and Spock’s true feelings of friendship towards McCoy. McCoy is in fact the first person to notice that something is wrong with Spock:

McCoy: Oh, captain. Got a minute? It's Spock. Have you noticed anything strange about him?

Kirk: No, nothing in particular. Why ?

McCoy: Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination, but he's become increasingly restive. If he were not a Vulcan, I'd almost say nervous. And for another thing, he's avoiding food. I checked and he hasn't eaten at all in three days.

Kirk: That just sounds like Mister Spock in one of his contemplative phases.

Kirk doesn’t notice anything wrong with Spock, and initially dismisses McCoy’s concern, but McCoy immediately picked up on Spock’s mental turmoil. Despite his cantankerousness, McCoy not only cares about Spock but goes out of his way to look out for his mental state. Part of it might be because he’s his doctor, but how many doctors go so far as to monitor someone’s eating habits because they notice that person’s suddenly being fidgety? On Spock’s end, when it comes time for him to beam down to Vulcan to complete his marriage ceremony, he specifically asks for McCoy to be there:

Spock: By tradition, the male is accompanied by his closest friends.

Kirk: Thank you, Mister Spock.

Spock: I also request McCoy accompany me.

McCoy: I shall be honoured, sir.

One episode I find extremely fascinating in terms of McCoy/Spock moments is “Mirror, Mirror.” In this famous episode, half of the Enterprise crew get transported into an alternate universe dubbed The Mirror Verse, in which evil versions of the characters exist and terrorize space as a fearsome military force. McCoy is part of the team that gets transported in the Mirror Verse, while Spock stays in their regular universe. Mirror Spock immediately realizes that half of the crew, including Kirk and McCoy, are acting strangely. When he corners Kirk to question him, he does so by threatening McCoy: “I shall not waste time with you. You’re too inflexible, too disciplined, once you’ve made up your mind. But Doctor McCoy has a plenitude of human weaknesses, sentimental, soft. You may not tell me what I want to know, but he will.” This Spock seems to have a intimate knowledge of McCoy’s mind. When the party decides to attack Mirror Spock, he fights all of them except for Uhura and McCoy, who he simply pushes out of harm’s way.

When Mirror Spock gets hurt as the crew is trying to escape back to their own universe, McCoy is suddenly unable to leave his side. Kirk allows him to stay to nurse Spock back to health, and McCoy risks almost staying in the Mirror Verse forever for him. When Mirror Spock awakes, he backs McCoy into a wall and initiates a forced mind meld onto the doctor. The next scene has Mirror Spock holding a disoriented McCoy up and bringing him back to his crew; he now understands what is happening and he wants his regular crew back, and thus he allows Kirk and company to make the switch back to their own universe.

Other Star Trek properties have gone more in depth on how a forced mind meld can be extremely traumatizing on the person receiving it. Star Trek: Enterprise has an entire story arc dedicated to the Vulcan T’Pol trying to heal from a forced mind meld. Unfortunately, because the nature of TOS episodes were episodic, we never got the chance to explore the emotional fallout of McCoy’s forced mind meld and how that might have affected his relationship with Spock. The franchise also never went in depth on Mirror McCoy outside of what Mirror Spock speaks of him, since Mirror McCoy died of xenopolycythemia in 2269.

Closing the list of evidence of Spock and McCoy’s affections towards each other are the Star Trek movies “The Wrath of Khan” and “The Search for Spock.” Towards the end of Wrath of Khan, Spock sacrifices himself to save The Enterprise in one of the franchises most heart-wrenching scenes. Moments before his sacrifice, he knocks McCoy unconscious, touches his face and whispers “remember.” What happened in this scene was that Spock, knowing he was about to die, transferred his Katra to McCoy. The katra being the Vulcan equivalent of a soul. This speaks to the amount of trust that Spock has in McCoy. For someone who keeps most of his emotions under a tight lid, it’s a huge gesture to entrust another with the essence of their entire being. The next movie, The Search for Spock, is a journey as the Enterprise crew fight to return to Vulcan so they can reunite Spock with his body. When they finally arrive, the Vulcans warn McCoy that the process is extremely dangerous and could even result in his death. McCoy calmly replies that he “chooses the danger.” He cannot fathom living his life without Spock.

McCoy: (Speaking to Spock) I'm going to tell you something that I... I never thought I'd hear myself say...But it seems I've missed you. I don't know if I could stand to lose you again.

So in conclusion, Spock and McCoy have a rich and complex relationship that is much more than simply just “they dislike each other because they bicker a lot.” Their bickering is more akin to that of an old married couple. There are plenty of examples not even included in this post of how deeply they care for each other. Despite their ideological differences, they balance each other out quite nicely. McCoy is finely attuned to Spock’s emotions, arguably better than anyone else on the ship. Spock in turn is protective and gentle with McCoy. Once you stop looking at their interactions solely on the surface level, you’ll be able to see the tenderness and years of love and friendship between them. This is why I think Spock/McCoy is one of the most underrated and misunderstood relationships of TOS. Don’t let the constant arguing fool you into believing these two dummies don’t adore each other.

Shout-out to Tempest for their extremely lengthy ship manifesto on Spones called “Spiced Peaches,” which goes even more in depth on why Spones is a great couple. Using their manifesto as a reference was key to remembering Spock/McCoy moments. Also shout-out to the site chakoteya for having full transcripts of TOS episodes, so I could easily find quotes for this. If you’ve come this far, thanks for reading!

#star trek #tos #leonard mccoy #spock #spones #this was... a lot

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

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Unrequited love

I should be working on comfort requests-

Instead, I have two ideas that kept me awake last night cause I apparently like to make Dazai suffer.

Angst (Idk kinda?)

Words: 1491

Unrequited love |Dazai x Reader x Chuuya|

Shadows loomed over the night, coating the starless sky. The light provided by street lamps left the deeper down into the alleyways. Cold winds blew past, ruffling the black mafioso coat, the symbol of death. The familiar crimson dripped from the barrel of the mafioso's gun. As it landed the blood crystallized into beautiful roses, courtesy from his partner. Normally there would be three of them. A devil, a demon, and a god. When the three worked together there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do, alone they were just as strong. The devil, as most people in the underworld called him, placed the gun back on its hold. He looked back at the demon with no expression, only jolting his head to the side. Even in the dim light, they were memorized by the devil. Perhaps that’s why they were the demon. What else could love the devil? A man so cruel he held no mercy, not for his co-workers, his enemies, he had nothing to spare. Some pity him, an executive at such a young age, so heartless and cruel. Surely he was suffering beneath the layers. Of course, that’s what they, the demon, thought.

They were 17 when the demon held a bundle of crystallized flowers. Having dipped them in water and turned the liquid that laid atop the petals into crystals they handed them to the male. Dazai, the devil only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first or last time this would happen. How many times had they confessed to the brunette, only to receive silence? Then again, they had never said they loved him. The brunette let them cling to him, much to the ginger's displeasure. The god tended to be the middle between them. Chuuya hated watching his partner's ungrateful attitude. To be honest, he was still shocked Dazai hadn’t tried to ravage the one they called a demon.

The day you, the demon, stood in front of Dazai, just before he’d leave forever, you spoke the three words. Instead of silence, he gave that dark shadowy look. Though only one eye was exposed his message was clear. Even in those dark, deadly eyes that showed no emotion, you could tell before he spoke. “When will you take the hint? I don’t have interest in you, never will." His words were so cold.

You looked down as your heart nearly leaped from its place. You stood and watched him leave to the scene of an explosion. You stood before your knees gave out and you fell. That was the last time you would see him for four years.

Dazai spent every day thinking about that moment, the different paths that you could have walked. To not immerse yourself in the senseless bloodshed for life. Had he said yes could you be here among the Agency laughing like you used to? He heard the new rumors, the things they said about you. A Deity of bloodshed. Nobody saw you and lived to tell the tale. An executioner of the port mafia. A heartless demon who lived only to spread their misery to others. They said your eyes were cold and emotionless. No longer lively and that beautiful trap he had been captured by. They said you never laughed, but when you did it was to mock your victims. The cheerful laugh that used to mix into the few good dreams he had now lay within the nightmares. Some Days he woke up and saw the old him. Other times he would wake up from a nightmare and swear you were there. Looking back at him in the mirror. A look of hate on your face as you blamed him for the monster you are.

The rumor that hurt the most had to be your relationship status. Nobody could confirm it, but hearing that you and Chuuya had become a killer duo killed him. Jealousy, anger, disgust, most of that aimed at himself. Another reason to add to the list of miseries he’s gone through. The others at the agency never noticed the way his mind was starting to unravel as rumors increased. As more and more people began to fear the name he regretted tossing to the side. He had been scared of those words, the three words he still can’t say because he’s afraid of how human they make him. For years, he’s been so distant from humanity. Why did it take him so long to realize that pain in his chest as he declined your confessions? The shattering pain he felt when he walked away was his own heart shattering from a love that could have been. He could only imagine you sitting at the desk laughing away with his coworkers. He could imagine his hands over your eyes as he surprised you.

The worst trick of his eyes was when he could really see you sitting there at the empty desk. When he could hear your laughter. Why did this world have to hate him so much? It’s hated him from the day he was born. He hated living so alone, and he could have had somebody, could have shared the miseries of this world with you but he won’t be able to.

Your first appearance at the agency happened during a meeting. The guild would be a problem only the two agencies combined could conquer. His eyes had spotted you immediately. You looked matured, no longer the demon who was far too kind to wear such a title. You truly looked like he had once. Eyes devoid of all emotion. You held your head high, hands behind your back as you took a right next to Mori. Chuuya stood next to you, and upon seeing Dazai his lips curled into a cruel smirk. He leaned over to whisper into your ear.

The smile your lips curled into mirrored the twisted smirk he would wear when delivering punishments to his underlings. He could only shiver before the two of you shared a brisk kiss. His whole world shattered but he held himself together. He kept his unusually bright smile as the two leaders worked out a deal.

When the two of them showed before Dazai he could only wave to hear your voice. “Listen Dazai, neither of us is pleased about working with you. The faster this is done the less we have to deal with you and your heartless personality.” Dazai had no words, he’d never heard you talk like that before. You were always the one silent or praising his accomplishments.

After the mission when Chuuya passed out from using corruption he reached out to you. “Y/n, what happened to you?” among all the questions amidst his mind that one spilled from his lips first.

“Oh Dazai, you happened. The mafia changes people the same way your… current job does.” you sounded disappointed and disgusted.

Behind that mask, you were crying out. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you. A part of you still wanted to hold him as you had. You learned the hard way feelings only granted you pain. “You know, keeping the act up won’t last that long. I recognize the act. Modeled after how I used to hide away?” The snarl that passed over your lips as you reached to punch him didn’t surprise him.

Though it hurt both of you, it took his taunting words to bring out the emotions swimming under the lock. “I hate you. Get it into your head Dazai! You broke me, you abandoned me, you abandoned us! All for what some stupid friend! I was there longer than him Dazai… I held you after nightmares, I cleaned the wounds after battle. Do you know what hurts more than rejection? Abandonment! I trusted you, we trusted you with everything and you threw it all away like nothing. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? He was some stupid friend you spent less time with, knew for less, sure he didn’t kill, he was perfect, better than me but you didn’t even say goodbye!”

He didn’t get to respond before you carried Chuuya off.

Dazai could only stare at the ground and the stains of blood that lay crystallized from your outburst. You had never been good at holding back. He plucked the grass from the ground holding the frozen crimson in his hand. It didn’t melt in his touch as he looked around for a complete flower. He’d kept everything you gave him, he loved the collection of crimson flowers, real flowers, even rain or snow. Your ability was so beautiful and peaceful, like you had been. However, all he found were shards that could cut through flesh. Cruel like the persona you’d adopted to keep yourself from being hurt. He envied Chuuya, who now lay at the receiving end of your love while he stood within the bubble of hate that iced over your heart.

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tales-unique · 3 years

Text

FAITH, LOST IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

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stoneworldsimp · 3 years

Text

I know the songs

senku x reader

warnings: kissing in the end, crying

senku wakes up to the sound of the floorboards creaking.

peeling his eyes open, he looks around while keeping his body in place; nothing moved out of place. no pots of minerals have been taken. good, he thinks, it isn’t a thief. closing his eyes again, he slowly turns to his other side and faces the door that is now open. moonlight shines on his face.

he opens his eyes once more to see you sitting outside on the ledge of the hut, your back bent from hunching over to hug your legs to your chest. he couldn’t see your face, but it seemed you were looking up at the sky. he smirks to himself, wondering why you were up so late when you all had a big day ahead of you tomorrow.

before he realizes it, he’s getting out from under his covers and making his way next to you. the floor creaks once again, but he tries to be quieter. he knows you sense him behind you.

“why are you awake?” he asks once he’s sat next to you. his head is turned toward your face.

you keep your eyes on the sky. “thinking.” you don’t continue.

senku stays quiet, copying your body by peering up at the stars and resting his arms on his knees.

the weather was perfect, no wind was passing and it was almost, almost too warm to sleep with some sort of cover. stars were scattered by the billions, clear for anyone to see if they stopped and looked for a moment. neither of you knew what time it was. time passes slowly; senku believes more than an hour goes by before you speak again.

“before we turned to stone, i used to be a musician.”

his ears grew hot. his mouth opens slightly as if he were to respond to you, but you continue before he has the chance.

“i was a pianist. i played for lots of concerts before i turned eighteen, and it was amazing. playing with huge groups of singers or musicians in school made me realize i wanted to do it as a career. and honestly, i wasn’t super amazing in any other regard. playing piano was the only thing i was ever good at.”

you pause for a moment, and senku thinks to ask about your favorite song; he goes against it, in case you have more to say.

“this is the longest i’ve ever gone without doing anything..music related. even when i traveled from home and stayed with another family, there was a conservatory that was open for anybody who wanted to practice. normally i could at least listen to some arrangements or concertos online, but..obviously, we don’t have that.

“but, what if i forget how to play one day? it’s bound to happen, i’ve been itching to play for months but i’m barely remembering melodies to songs i thought would never leave my head. and no offense, but despite you moving relatively fast on creating certain contraptions, i doubt it’ll be quick and easy to build a piano. even if we end up finding materials, and building the shell, and the wires, and the hammers, and the keys, its going to be super hard because hell, if we can get the correct intervals for each key and build one thats at least two or three octaves...what if i stare at it forever, and can’t even touch it, because i just,”your voice wavers and lowers to a whisper,”because i just forget all of it?” you feel a tear halfway down your cheek and promptly wipe it away, glancing at senku for a split second before turning your head away. hopefully the moon wasn’t that bright.

minutes pass slowly and you’re about to give up on hoping for any kind of comfort when he lightly laughs. more tears fall from your eyes; dumbass. i knew i shouldn’t have opened up to this guy.

“that’s not going to happen.”

at his sudden change in emotion, you whip your head back around. senku faces you, the moonlight accentuating half of his face.

“you aren’t going to forget how to play just because you haven’t been physically playing. most of the time, memorization isn’t remembering melodies but also muscle memory too. if you think about the movement of your hands while running through anything in your mind, the memory’s gonna grow even stronger. you’re not going to forget how to play, because you are constantly strengthening your skills internally. from what ive seen in the mere months of us working together, you have an excellent memory. you’re strong on the inside.”

he feels relieved when he sees you smile, no longer sniffling with your body turned away. before you can say anything back, he mumbles,”i can also tell youre practicing in your head because i have to repeat what i say to you about four times before you can actually comprehend—hey!”

you push his face away with your hand as you laugh quietly. he laughs with you while his head comes back and you reply,”thanks, i think, senku.”

the both of you are closer than when he first sat next to you; your body is now facing his, only one leg dangling over the ledge of the hut. both of his legs are hanging but his torso is turned completely to you, and your faces are only a couple of inches away from each other.

with a small inhale, you close the gap and push your lips onto his. it’s awkward, it’s wet; you stay connected for a long time before pulling away. senku’s smirk is plastered on his face but he’s burning a bright red from ear to ear. due to the overall darkness and your own blushing face, you don’t seem to notice. you can only feel yourself getting hotter, and see the way his lips are slightly glistening from your spit after kissing him. you’re the first to talk, and it barely comes out as a whisper. “uhm, sorry. it’s uh, it’s been kind of, well, it’s kind of been a long time. since i’ve really done something like that.”

“let’s try again.”

you feel your heart drop at his immediate response. it must have shown in your face, because his smirk grows even bigger.

“it can be better, yeah? i’m ten billion percent sure that practice makes perfect.”

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff #this was fun. hardcoreeeee skimping for this fucker #oh my god

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bokutosworld · 3 years

Text

over again | iwaizumi hajime

pairing: iwaizumi x gn!reader word count, genre: 1.8k words, angst + fluff in the beginning. warnings: mentions of death, car accident. summary: he blames himself for the past but you help him take the first step to moving on. a/n: @ricerice i promised i’d tag you in an iwa angst so hope you enjoy this hahah

—

“Iwaizumi!”

Who’s there?

“Hajime!”

Huh?

“Babe!”

Iwaizumi’s blinded by the harsh sunlight when he opens his eyes. Where am I? He hears people laughing in the distance, children running about, and waves breaking at the shore. With an outstretched hand, he feels the texture of hot, grainy sand beneath his touch. The next thing he finds is the warmth of another person’s hands.

“Hajime, get up! This is no time for sleeping under the shade.”

He comes to his senses and his vision clears to make out a familiar face. You were hovering over his body, blocking the sun from his eyes and he could see how you were smiling so happily at him.

He gets up from his lying position and cups your cheeks, thumbs grazing your face so tenderly as if he’s afraid to break you. He tugs you for an embrace, his hold tightening for every second that passes.

Worried, you wrap your arms around his torso. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

And that’s when you feel it. Tears streaming down his face and leaving a trail on your neck. Your heart quickens and you pull back to see him silently sobbing.

“Why are you crying?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Because even he doesn’t know the reason why he suddenly broke down. It came out of nowhere, his chest constricting at the sight of you and the overwhelming feeling of longing and desperation.

You’re wiping his tears and he catches your palm, bringing it to his lips. Finally, he smiles, “Nothing’s wrong. Shall we go take a swim?”

—

Is this dèjá vu?

Iwaizumi could swear that he’s been in this exact spot in the exact same time with you. Like he was experiencing it all over again. If he dug around in his mind, he could pull out a similar memory where you were enjoying the feel of the water in your feet and calling out for him to join.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

He decides to stop overthinking and relaxes his tense body. Approaching you with a smile, he surprises you when he places an arm under your knees and your waist and lifts you with ease.

“Hajime,” you exclaim, hitting his biceps.

He spins the both of you, the water splashing around before letting you fall in the water. You’re completely soaked, hair sticking to the sides of your face when you come up to breathe and Iwaizumi’s bending over his knees as he laughs.

The thing about Iwaizumi is that he has a beautiful laugh, his eyes often turning into crescents and the sound is music to your ears. It’s rare for him to openly show emotions unlike others you know who wear their hearts on their sleeves. You’d have to be someone he was comfortable with, someone he trusts before getting the privilege of seeing the rarest sides of him.

And to Iwaizumi, you have always been that person.

You grab his hand and pull him so he could join you in the cool seawater. It takes a moment before he comes up for air and when he does, he’s grinning with a mischievous look in his eyes. You feel his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your lips are only a hair’s breadth away.

“Are you happy right now?” He asks.

Humming, you grab at his shoulders and press your forehead to his. “I am.”

“Good,” he says before leaning for a kiss. It’s gentle, it’s passionate, and it captures a million loving thoughts and emotions that neither of you could ever translate in words. You feel him smile into the kiss before breaking apart.

“You taste salty,” you tease to hide how he has just literally taken your breath away.

He chuckles and in your closeness, you feel his heart racing. “That’s your fault. You nearly drowned me in the water.”

Rolling your eyes, you hit at his bare chest and make a move towards dry land.

“I’m hungry! Let’s go get something.”

As he watches you go back to your lounge chair and grab a towel to dry off, the scene before him blurs. He shakes his head, blinks once and twice before you were fading right in front of him. He calls your name and catches you look back at him before all he could see was black.

—

When he comes to his senses, he finds himself laying with his head on your lap. Your fingers are softly brushing through his hair, the gesture ushering him in a state of euphoria and he thinks could go back to sleep.

But then he remembers what happened and he’s up.

“You’re awake.” He senses something was different with how the corners of your lips turned upwards solemnly. Your eyes glossed with something he couldn’t describe.

“How long was I out?”

“Well, you missed lunch. And we’re the only ones left here,” you inform him. Your gaze looking past the vast ocean.

Iwaizumi turns to where you were looking and he’s mesmerized. By now, the sun has set and the sky was turning from clear blue to warm orange hues. He looks at you and his heart jumps, admiring the glow of your sun-kissed skin.

“Have you realized it yet?” You break the silence.

What are you talking about?

You glance at Iwaizumi with a sad smile. When he doesn’t answer, you take it as your cue to continue speaking. “Do you remember when we took our first trip to the beach right after we graduated from high school?”

He listens.

“It was our first out-of-town date as a couple and I was so nervous to be alone with you,” you chuckle at the distant memory. “But you made it easy. You were such a gentleman, you never made me uncomfortable, and every moment with you felt natural.

“That day, I had the most fun that I’ve had in my years of existence,” you turn to him, eyes boring deep in his and you smile. “That was my favorite memory of us.”

As if a lightbulb flashed in his head, Iwaizumi finally makes sense of what’s happened. Why the earlier events seemed so familiar to him.

Because, indeed, they have already happened.

He feels something in the pit of his stomach and he averts his gaze, looking at anywhere but you. He observes how the clouds look superficial, how the waters before him look almost imaginary, how you look alive.

His voice is trembling when he asks, “This is all a dream, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

And for the second time, he cries. Oh god. Of course, this can’t be real. Of course, this was all a figment of his imagination. He’s been praying for this opportunity to spend time with you again.

“It’s good to see you, Hajime.”

Because you weren’t in his life anymore.

He crumbles in front of you, shoulders shaking violently as he weeps for you. He’s saying something but it’s incomprehensible. He reaches for your hand and you take it, feeling the strong grip on your palm.

“Why?” I have longed for you for days, months. “Why show yourself only now?”

“You’re still suffering. And I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry,” he mutters repeatedly.

You cradle his shaking body. “Shh, Hajime. Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

He remembers the day it happened so vividly in his mind. It was unpredictable and it happened in a blink of an eye—he could still hear the tires screeching, could still feel the impact of the collision, could still picture himself with you inside that car when it went flying across the street.

Despite the immediate assistance from an ambulance, the doctors at the hospital declared you as dead on arrival. And when he woke up three days after the incident, he couldn’t believe the news he was hearing. He wanted everything so badly to be a bad dream, wanted to be able to hold you and hear your voice one more time.

Losing you felt like he lost a part of himself too.

“I miss you,” he croaked. “I miss you everyday it hurts.”

“I know.” You hold him close for a while. “I’m only given one chance to visit someone in their dreams so I want to make this worthwhile. Iwaizumi, I want you to move on. For my sake and yours.”

It takes him a while to calm down, only reveling in the moment when he could finally touch you, talk to you, and hear you even if it was only in his dreams.

“I can’t,” he stutters. “I can’t move on. There are pieces of you in everywhere I go, everywhere I look. On my table, there’s still the coffee cup you always used when you come to my apartment. Your toothbrush is still sitting beside mine in the bathroom.

And your parents, god knows I’m thankful for them. But every time, they call to check up on me, I’m reminded of you and how I let you die.”

“It’s not your fault. Stop thinking of that.” Your heart shatters whenever he says that. “No one expected that to happen. And I’m also frustrated and heartbroken that I can’t be with you anymore.”

There’s a long minute where neither of you say anything. The two of you just holding on to one another and savoring the moment.

“I have always dreamt of growing old with you,” you whisper dreamily. “We’d own a house and live there with our children. I was thinking one boy and one girl. I’m sad that I can’t make that happen with you anymore. But you have a whole life ahead of you. I’m still rooting for you to achieve your dreams, you know?”

Finally, he laughs as he’s slowly coming to terms with his reality.

“Forever and ever. That’s how long I said I loved you and that has not changed. Even when I’m already gone, I will always be,” you rest your hand on his chest near where his heart lies. “Here.”

He grabs your wrist and intertwines his fingers with yours before kissing them. He doesn’t want to let go of you again. He’s already lost you once and he’s not about to lose you again, wishing that he could stay in this dream forever.

As he’s about to tell you something, he’s brought out of his unconsciousness and his eyes fall to the empty space in his bed. The sheets feel damp and it’s only when he touches his face that he realizes he’s been crying in his sleep. It’s cold when he reaches out to your side of the bed, thinking back to the nights you slept beside him and he felt content.

He remembers what you said.

Forever and ever. That’s how long I said I loved you.

He wills himself to be comforted by those words, repeating them in his mind like a chant until he finds peace and falls back to sleep. He hopes that tomorrow will be better.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi imagines #haikyuucreations #haikyuucafe #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fics #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu!!

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ohnopoe · 3 years

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The Long Road Home | Frankie Morales

Ship: Frankie Morales x Reader Summary: After a one night stand with your best friend, it feels like everything’s going to hell... maybe you just need an escape Word Count: 5.6k+ Warnings: Angst. I looked at this doc and went ‘I haven’t hurt myself with pain for a while yet’, and just put a months worth of angst into one fic. I am sorry. Author’s Note: Oh look! It’s another super late entry to something! This time it’s for the FABULOUS @autumnleaves1991-blog and her writer Wednesday... as I post this at 3.30am on a Monday... yikes. I’m so sorry this is so late, thank you for being so kind about it! And yes, I did give up very quickly on making this gif look good. I’m too mentally done to try harder 🤣

The car was filled with a stilted silence, heavy and thick in the air-conditioned air. Never before had the awkwardness sat so oppressively, least of all with the one and only Frankie Morales at your side.

For years now, your life had been filled with laughter and smiles, of warm hugs and secret looks that hinted at inside jokes that no one had a chance of guessing. For years, your life had been plentiful with the simple fact that Frankie Morales, the kindest man you had ever known, was your best friend. Was it enough? Maybe not. But it was better than the alternative, and you knew that clearly now.

One night. It had only taken one night, to destroy the very foundations of your friendship, to send your comfortable little bubble crashing down into a cacophony of pain and agony.

Oh, the night itself was anything but agony. No, that was filled with euphoria and the sounds of absolute bliss. His taste scarred into your memory, his touch forever melted into your skin. Sleeping with your best friend might just have been the best damn thing you’d ever done, were it not for what came the morning after.

Perhaps you had been naive, waking up in his sheets, craving the warmth that had surrounded you as you both blissfully drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms. Perhaps you ought to have realised the moment you found his spot cold to the touch, but your mind was still too filled with the fuzzy drunkenness of the best damn fuck of your life.

Perhaps you should have come to realise when you slipped out into his living room, seeing him already fully dressed, sitting silently on the couch with his head in his hands, his emotions on display so clearly that it would have broken your heart right there and then, if only you’d been awake enough to see them.

But no, it wasn’t until you were forcing a reassuring smile onto your lips as you desperately begged your features not to give away the heartache you felt that your world truly came crashing down around you.

It was a mistake.

A mistake.

Of all the words he could have used, somehow that hurt the most. He didn’t claim he didn’t enjoy it, didn’t blame you for the way your lips had sought out his when he’d been looking so damn beautiful with the warmth of the fireplace dancing across his features. No, he regretted it, and that, that hurt deeper than you had expected it too.

But you had put on a brave face, reassuring him that nothing would change, that you were still his best friend, if that’s what he wanted, and you pushed the heartache away until you were safely secured in your apartment, where the tears could fall until they ran out, until there was nothing but your empty sobs to fill the echoing apartment, as the man you loved seemed further away than ever before.

A week passed, then another, but nothing got easier. Your interactions seemed awkward now, the overwhelming reminder of what you had done hanging over the two of you like a thick blanket, threatening to suffocate you both.

It was impossible to move forwards, to think of anything but him.

The anguish you felt only grew as your friends seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong between you. It was Will who came to you, a silent support when your world was still crashing down around you, but you never dared whisper so much as a word of what had happened.

How could you ever guess it would get worse?

How could the all consuming pain you felt ever grow to something more when you already found yourself mourning the ease of your friendship every night when you sat alone at home?

Your answer came in the form of a beautiful stranger.

She was kind, gentle, beautiful… everything Frankie deserved, and what’s worse, she seemed to truly like him.

You hadn’t meant to spy, hell, you hadn’t even known he was going to be there. You were just at the cafe to pick up some lunch when you saw them, laughing and smiling, hand in hand at a small booth in the corner.

He didn’t even notice you as you entered your favourite cafe, the same cafe that you had spent countless afternoons in with the man who was still your everything, even now, even as he sat there with another.

Strength was becoming a part of you. You could hold off the tears, hold off the wails of anguish until you were safely at home, until you were alone once more.

But your strength was waning. How long could you continue on like this, mourning your friendship with the man you had secretly loved for years? How long would it be until he introduced this beautiful stranger to the boys? How long would it be until you had to force a smile as he fell in love, as he found himself marrying her?

There was only so long you could be strong when the object of your pain sat so close, yet so far.

Perhaps it wasn’t your most thought out plan. Perhaps you ought to have put a little more care into your actions, but you needed to get away, needed to be free from the anguish that had plagued you for over a month now.

Working freelance was a wonderful thing when it meant you could quite literally pack up and work anywhere. However, it was not the best when it came to stopping you from making a rash decision.

Clothes and essentials packed up in your car, you didn’t give yourself a moment to think as you fled the town you had called home for so long.

Was it a permanent answer to your problems? Hell no. Did it, realistically, cause more issues than it would solve? Sure. But this wasn’t the time for critical thinking, this was the time for an escape.

It had all been going so well.

For hours, you drove.

The chaos of the city fell behind you, the long open road ahead. Your phone filled your car with music, allowing you to fill your mind with anything but thoughts of home, and the thought that you might just find freedom from your agony seemed tangible.

With the windows down, the fresh air licked at your skin, cool and refreshing, filled with promises of renewal.

With each passing hour the crowds thinned and the light fell low.

A quick pull into a gas station had you filled up with fuel, snacks, and the motivation to continue on, moving ever forwards, even though no destination was set in your mind.

Perhaps you should have found a hotel for the night, somewhere safe to stay until morning came, but you were determined; the need to get away spurring you ever onwards in your pursuit of something you could not name.

Night fell, and even the houses spilled away into nothing, your only companions the rich sand that surrounded you, and the road that continued on into the horizon.

Yes, this was what you needed.

It was all going so well, until it wasn’t.

The headlights began to flicker, that was your first clue that something was amiss. Then it was the clock, staggering between minutes.

You weren’t particularly mechanically minded, there wasn’t exactly a need for it when your best friend was always there to fix whatever hiccups your car decided to adopt, but even you knew it was time to pull over.

The air was cold, colder than you ever would have expected in the depths of the desert, but then, with the sun slipping past the horizon, you could hardly be surprised to find the temperature dipping too. Opening the bonnet gave no answers, only a steady slew of steam that drifted upwards at the sudden release, only furthering your fears.

Well, that certainly didn’t seem good.

Perhaps you could find a mechanic or a garage, surely there was another gas station somewhere along the long and dusty road. But the moment you hit the ignition, the car stalled. Another attempt, another stall. The engine refused to budge.

This was not how things were meant to be going.

Your hand hit the steering wheel with fervour, doing more to hurt you than to dissipate your growing anger.

This was meant to be your escape, your freedom from everything that was weighing you down, but now even your car seemed to be working against you.

The sun was now fully eclipsed by the horizon, and there you were, stuck on the side of an empty highway, alone and crying your frustrations into your steering wheel as, once more, your emotions got the better of you.

Someone would come, they had to. It wasn’t as if the stretch of road was forgotten and beyond repair, it was still a popular stretch… for some.

Locked in your car, with no engine to run your heater, you went for your phone, hoping you could call for help. Picking you up hours away from home wasn’t exactly the kind of favour you could put on anyone, but the boys were never ones to say no to a person in need, least of all one of their best friends. Perhaps you could call Will, see if he could pick you up or help you get a tow.

The black screen of death was the last thing you needed. Plugged into the car’s power, it seemed even it wasn’t immune to whatever had eaten away at your car’s battery.

So there you were, stuck on the side of the road, alone, desolate, and now without any means of communication.

Perfect.

Hours passed, or at least, you assumed they did, with nothing but silence as your companion, and suddenly, all those thoughts and memories you had been pushing away filled your mind with an aching determination.

Memories of nights curled up in Frankie’s side as you laughed at the stupidity of couples in films, as you hid your face in his neck as he laughed at yet another horror film he insisted wasn’t that bad.

Memories of nights when the world felt like it was crashing down around you as yet another relationship failed, and you found solace in the warm hugs of your best friend and the sweet taste of ice-cream with whatever alcohol was in the house.

So much of your life had revolved around your best friend, and here you were, weeks without so much as a word shared between you, desperately searching for something to fill the void within you.

In the dark of the night, you could admit this wasn’t your smartest plan. With the cold air struggling to make its way into the insulation of your car, even you knew you should have at least told someone you were going. Will wouldn’t have judged you, at least, not outwardly. Benny would have come with you, given the chance. Santi, well, Santi would have read far too much into it and probably figured out exactly what was breaking you down…

And then there was Frankie. Frankie who would have listened, who would have held you as you cried, who would have whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance until you no longer felt the need to escape at all. At least, the old Frankie, your Frankie, would have.

Now, everything was so different. What would he have said if he knew you were leaving so suddenly? Would he have realised it was because of him? Would he even care?

The darkness of the night seemed to match your darkened mood, allowing the heartache to consume you, to plague your mind until a restless sleep fell over you.

Dreams and nightmares melded into one another, happy memories turning sour with rejection, those four words haunting you with every attempt at happiness.

This was a mistake.

How could a voice you loved so dearly bring words of such pain? How could he be everything good and everything horrible, all at once?

A bright light, and a deep, loud sound shook you from your slumbers. A truck was passing, a truck!

Perhaps they could help, perhaps they could- your sleep filled mind suddenly plagued you with images of your body chopped up into tiny pieces, lost to the desert and never seen again…

Ok, maybe wariness was the way to go.

But it was slowing down, past you by some hundred meters, but slowing to a stop nonetheless.

With the taser Santi had bought you years ago held tightly in your grip for protection, you watched as a smaller light came towards you, footsteps echoing behind it on the empty road.

You could do this, you said to yourself, unable to fool even yourself with your attempt at optimism.

The man seemed alright, from what you could tell. A sympathetic smile, and a safe distance away so as not to scare you, he seemed as non-threatening a stranger as you could hope for. But you couldn’t shake the warnings the boys had given you over the years.

“Never, and I mean never get in a car with a stranger,” Santi had invaded your space as he drunkenly forced his advice upon you.

“What if I don’t want them to be a stranger?” you had replied coyly, loving the way the group of men, who had taken it upon themselves to act rather like older brothers had squirmed uncomfortably in their seats at your response.

“If they’re a stranger, they’re not good enough for you,” Santi had replied, his gaze flittering around the group as if struggling to leave his sentence there. “If you don’t know them, keep it that way. You’re safety is more important than your- than your-”

“Than your sex life,” Will finished with a roll of his eyes, never ceasing to be amused by the way Pope struggled at the idea of you having sex.

You didn’t dare open your door, and with the engine out of commission, opening the window was an impossibility, and so it was a conversation of yelling in the dark empty desert.

“You alright there?” his cheery tone put you at ease more than it ought, but the man was clearly aware you were alone, and equally aware that his large frame could easily be construed as intimidating.

Half of you was ready to nod in response, to claim you were just fine and not give anything away. But, well, even the threat of being murdered seemed a little less impactful when you knew, realistically, you needed help.

“Broken down,” you yelled from behind the safety of your locked door.

“You called someone to get ya yet?” he actually looked concerned at that, but then a thought seemed to flit through his mind, so loud that it was shown across his features as he second guessed his words. His southern twang resonated loudly as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, hand barely missing the full grey beard that looked oddly reminiscent of Santa Claus. “Or ya need a lift or somethin’?”

“Actually,” the trepidation was clear even as your voice echoed in the car. What you needed wasn’t exactly easy, and, while he certainly didn’t seem dangerous, Santi’s words still rung clear in your mind. “You wouldn’t have a phone I could use, would you?”

His smile was reassuring, easing your worries more than it ought to do. Broken with missing teeth and crows feet that showed the man clearly smiled just as often as he could, it was almost tempting to take him up on his offer. But he was nodding before you could second guess yourself.

“You wait just here, I’ll go get it.”

The moment he was gone, relief flooded you, easing your wound up shoulders, and giving you a final glimpse at hope. Now all you had to do was call someone you trusted, someone who wouldn’t mind a call at the ass-break of dawn.

Will still felt like the safest option, even if he did mind, he’d never say it, and you could always make it up to him with a carton of beer.

Your hand reached for your phone, ready to bring up his number, when realisation struck you. Dead. It was dead. That was the whole damn reason you needed another’s phone in the first place.

A groan escaped you as you realised, once again, just how badly your escape was going.

A knock on the door woke you from your pity party, an empathetic look mixing with bemusement as the truck driver watched you jump in shock.

“Here, I’ll pop this on your hood. I’ll just be over there,” he paused to point back towards his truck, “you just holler when you’re done, ok darlin’?”

And then he was gone, his phone large and clunky on the hood of your car as his flashlight bounced light off the road with every uneven step he took.

Getting out quickly, you grabbed the phone before returning to the safety of the locked car. Ok, so you needed someone who’s number was memorised, someone who would answer, someone… fuck.

“You can drop me off here,” your voice was soft and uncertain, barely breaking past a whisper, and yet echoing in the silence of the car. The first words spoken in an hour, hanging so heavily between you that you almost wished you could suffocate once more in the overwhelming silence from before.

His hand crashed against the top of the steering wheel; anger, raw and unrestrained, shining through as he clenched his jaw to swallow words he might regret.

“I’m not leaving you at some shitty garage,” the words were grit out, harsher than you had ever heard him before. His emotions, once bottled up and held deep within, were now clear for all to see, even as he refused to so much as glance in your direction. “I’m taking you home.”

“Frankie, I-” you cut your words off at the sudden glare that was thrown your way, gulping down the fight you had been willing to make in order to make your point. You had never seen him like this, even on his darkest days, he had never spewed forth an anger so heated and vile that it had you almost scared to speak.

And so you fell back into silence once more, letting the empty road fill your gaze with its monotonous landscape, desperately pleading with it to help clear your mind of the whirlwind of emotions that brewed within.

Perhaps you ought to have wished it upon Frankie instead.

Just as you thought the silence had begun to settle, some ten minutes later, he exploded once more, passionately angry in a way that had no right to pierce your heart as it did.

“The hell were you thinking, running off like that?” he practically spat the words out, wondering aloud rather than directing the question at you. But still, it had you fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. His anger was new, but somehow that didn’t hurt half as much as the disappointment you heard now as he rolled his fists over the steering wheel.

You could practically see the way his mind whirled with thoughts, his gaze flittering over the road as he did his best to stay in control.

“Pull over,” your words were barely a whisper louder than the last time you had spoken, but there was a determination in them now.

Frankie merely scoffed in response, shaking his head as if the thought was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“I’m not- I’m not going to rush off, just- please Frankie,” and if your tone sounded more desperate than it ever had before, well, so be it.

A glance was thrown in your direction, filled with suspicion, as if he were trying to see whether you were telling the truth, whether you were simply looking for another chance to flee from his life. But you met his gaze, soft determination filling your own as you silently pleaded for him to do as you say, before he ended up causing a crash.

With a sigh, and the most unnecessary use of a turn signal you had ever witnessed, Frankie eased the car to the side of the road, making a show of turning off the ignition before he turned to you, watching you so intently that his very gaze seemed to melt into your skin.

“I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Thinking, you asked- I- I wasn’t thinking. I just-” you sighed. Unable to meet his searching gaze, your focus fell to your fingers, fiddling anxiously in your lap in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pent up energy that was brewing within you. “I needed to get away from everything.”

I needed to get away from you.

“And you didn’t think to let someone know?” his anger was radiating throughout the car, hot and fevered, and it almost made you feel guilty, almost. “Do you have any idea how it felt to hear your voice on a stranger’s phone? To know you were trapped, alone, hours away- You should have told me.”

“Told you?” you couldn’t help the scoff that fell from your lips at that. Perhaps you should have told someone, but of all the people in the world you could have informed of your sudden trip, he was hardly an option. “Frankie, we don’t even talk anymore!”

“What are you-”

“Ever since that night, you’ve been distant,” you interrupted, refusing to accept his attempt at ignorance. After years of practically living in each other’s pockets, there was no way he could simply not notice the time that had passed since you last spoke. “Hell, it’s like I don’t even exist anymore! We haven’t spoken in weeks. Weeks, Frankie!”

“Well I-” he tried once more, but even he stumbled for a response to that. It was true, and there was no denying it, no matter how much he wished he could.

But the dam was broken now, emotions and words flooding out, filling the car where once silence lay.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like? To lose your best friend all because of a mistake,” the word was spat with more aggression than you had intended, but it stung to think about it. The very word was tainted now, filled with the memory of his forlorn face as he had uttered it into the morning light.

You didn’t notice the way he gulped at your words, as he desperately tried to alleviate the way his throat suddenly felt drier than the desert that surrounded you.

“I am trying my hardest to keep it together,” you continued, your voice steely now as you spoke resolutely, staring out at the long road ahead, refusing to acknowledge the steady stream of tears that made their way down your face.

“I am trying so fucking hard to not break every second of every day, and the moment I do something for myself, the moment I try and accept that I need to move on from my best friend, the world just screams ‘no’. I don’t get to just move on like nothing ever happened, I don’t get to go on dates with beautiful women who hold my hand and look at me like I’m the world. I get to suffocate under the knowledge that I’m in love with a man who thinks I’m a mistake. So, forgive me if I needed to get away from it all. Forgive me if I needed an escape from the never ending circle of pain that it is to simply survive.”

Each word seemed to burn your tongue as it escaped you, a fiery, fierce explosion filled with all the things you had kept secret for too long. It was so damn much, too much, perhaps, but then… it was a relief. After years of keeping your feelings to yourself, they were finally free, out in the atmosphere and untethered from the confines of your mind.

Was it the best way to let them out? Probably not. But after holding them down for so long, it was liberating to let go, even if you knew no good would come from it.

The silence that followed was, surprisingly, not the worst reaction you could have expected from your spiel. In fact, in respect to the alternatives that raced through your mind, it didn’t seem bad at all.

Perhaps you could continue like this. Perhaps you could make it home in silence, with your secret no longer a secret anymore.

Perhaps you could face tomorrow, even if it meant you could never face him again.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, not now that the words were out there, that he was aware of just how long you had harboured feelings for him. You couldn’t dare see the disappointment or disgust in his features as he struggled to find a way to let you down easy.

“You’re not a mistake,” the words were so soft that they took a moment to register in your mind.

But you knew that tone, it was the same tone you heard when Frankie’s world was crashing down around him. It was the same tone that crept out of him after hours of silence the night he came home from Columbia, turning up on your doorstep disheveled and broken and oh so silent that it had hurt to witness.

You wanted to scoff at the words, an easy attempt at placating you after you had practically offered your heart on a platter, baring your very soul to him, but for that tone.

There was no room for doubt or fear when he spoke like that, no room for anything but sheer acceptance. He believed what he was saying with his entire being, and you wished you didn’t know him well enough to tell.

It would be so easy to be angry, to ignore those words as he had ignored your admission, to doubt him and call him out on it, to ask the question your heart begged for the answer to… then why say it in the first place?

Wiping a tear from your cheek in a hurried movement, appalled at just how wet your skin felt, and the fact that your emotions had betrayed you so easily, you merely shook your head, still not daring to look his way.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, forcing your attention out the passenger window to the seemingly never ending sea of sand. “Next time I’ll tell someone, ok?” your voice was small, insecure, each word focused on entirely the wrong thing. “And I’ll get my stupid car fixed too.”

Was it a poor attempt at humour? Yes. But you were desperate. You needed to end this conversation, needed to get back to the comfort of your bed where you could allow the tears that seemed to haunt you to fall once more as you accepted the heartache that only grew with his silence.

“Next time,” the words seemed to die on his tongue, voice shaky as his hand reached out for your own, pulling your attention towards him as he grasped it tightly on your lap.

There was a desperation in his gaze now, a determination that you hear him, that you take each word he offered to heart.

“Next time, we both go.”

A scoff of laughter fell from your lips, your head shaking even as an incredulous smile dared to show itself in the corners of your lips.

“Frankie,” you sighed his name, gaze falling to your joint hands, to the way his thumb ran over your knuckles, even as he held your hand so tightly. “You’re missing the point of me getting away entirely.”

And then, for the first time since he had pulled up next to your broken down car, he smiled.

“I’m not,” the lilt of his voice almost tempted you to glance towards him, amusement dancing in the corners of his tone as he sought you out.

“Frankie,” you started once more, although you weren’t quite sure what you planned to say. How could you begin to explain your need for freedom from him?

“I was wrong,” he shook his head, more to himself than anything, as he spoke softly. “I made two mistakes that night-”

Would this man ever cease to shatter your heart? Surely it was already in pieces smaller than the grains of sand that sat outside your door.

“I should never have said it was a mistake, and I should have told you the truth.”

“The truth…” it came out more as a statement than a question, as if you were testing the very words on your tongue. Even with your focus flittering between his intense gaze, locked onto his very being you could still hear the suspicion in your tone. What truth would you learn if he continued? Would it hurt you further, or heal the shattered remains of your heart? Could you even risk considering the latter?

Your sights fell, focused on the warmth of his hand in yours, on the comfort he was trying to bring you, even if this was the moment your world came crashing down around you. Perhaps, with his hand in yours, you could bear it this time. After all the times your world felt as if it were imploding within you, perhaps you could face it if he just kept holding your hand.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you.”

“Frankie, please don’t-” you could see what he was doing, softening the blow, reminding you how much you meant to him. You were his best friend, and he loved you, just as he loved Santi or Will or Benny… minus the whole one night stand issue.

Your hand was stock still in his, unable to clench onto the one thing that could keep you together and break you apart all at once. It was still despite the way his thumb still ran over your knuckles, desperate to soothe and reassure as he had done time and time again. And it was the only thing you could focus on.

The sound of him shifting in his seat was both deafening and oddly muted as you trained your focus on your joined hands that sat in your lap.

His other hand reached over, his touch so light as it traced against your wet cheek that it had you closing your eyes without a thought.

“Hey,” his voice was broken now, rough and raw with emotion that you didn’t dare let yourself focus on. The touch of his hand felt stronger now as it dipped to your chin, silently begging at you to look his way. Silence sat between you as he waited, with a patience only Frankie knew, for you to give in to his plea.

Even here, stuck in the middle of the desert with tears flowing freely down your cheeks, you could never truly deny Frankie anything.

Your eyes opened slowly, painfully so, but the sight that greeted you was somehow worse than the unknowing blackness you had before.

He looked worse than he sounded, an echo of his worst days, his face haunted with a mirage of emotions that you never wished him to experience. And for a moment you wished you could take it all back. The relief you felt at finally telling him how you felt, the way your heart screamed at no longer having to suffer in silence… none of that was worth it if it was causing this pain to the man you adored.

His smile was small as it crept onto his lips. You could see the uncertainty in the way his eyes flickered over your features. But his hand that still sat in your lap held your hand with a determination that was meant to reassure, although you couldn’t quite tell if it was meant to reassure you or him.

“I have loved you since the moment we met,” he repeated, pausing as he took a deep breath. “And I have been in love with you for almost as long.”

Your eyes met his without a thought, needing to see whether there was truth in his words, needing to see whether he meant what he was saying, or if he was simply doing what he could to keep you safe and by his side.

But there was no lie in his eyes, no fear that you could see past his words into a hollow land of half truths. No, the only fear that sat there was trepidation, anxiety… timidity.

What if you didn’t believe him? What if, after all you had both said, after all that had happened you didn’t want him?

But how could you not?

Frankie, the man who had been at your side through thick and thin, the man who had driven for hours to pick you up when your car had decided it no longer wanted to work… he was still your everything, he was your Frankie.

Hours of exhaustion and desperation, filled with tears of heartbreak and frustration, slipped aside, replaced with the smallest of smiles.

“You love me, huh?” the teasing lilt to your tone surprised even you, but the way his entire being lit up at the words was addictive. Your features seemed to mirror his, smile growing until it was all you knew, until the happiness you felt seemed to chase away the anguish you had felt for so long.

His hand tightened in yours, and finally, you moved with it, squeezing reassuringly as you watched emotions dance over his features.

“Honey,” he stopped, pulling your joint hands to his lips as he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your palm, never letting his gaze drop from yours for so much as a moment. “I’m crazy about you.”

#writer wednesday #Frankie Morales #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #Triple Frontier #My fic

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

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Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders.

"...Y/N."

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly.

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby."

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you."

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship.

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement.

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was.

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy.

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere.

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today.

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again.

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer.

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter.

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded.

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her.

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return.

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke.

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life.

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit.

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast."

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person.

"You're too good to me."

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time.

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head.

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond.

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy."

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this."

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you.

"Okay."

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in.

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care.

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple.

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy."

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over.

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips.

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes.

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again.

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again.

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics.

-------

The Second Anniversary

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction.

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss.

"Come on, let's go inside."

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house.

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today.

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us."

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there.

"Okay, we'll be there."

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return.

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much."

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter.

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now.

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something.

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other.

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone.

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely.

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend.

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh.

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Note

Hey there! You mentioned in the tags of the pining post that you wanted to write a lil som-n som-n~~ Prompt of Jaskier and Geralt, number 36? (If you want of course!)

36: Characters are tied together/shackled/forced to share a small space for a long period of time

I absolutely want to write that! Thank you so much for the prompt!

Ah, so this somehow got less pining-y and more angsty? Like, seriously angsty. As in, almost mcd angsty. I hope that’s okay tho

Word count: ~7k

Note: I will post this (and the other prompted fics) on AO3 once I have time to do some editing. But that’s going to take a couple of days

Summary: Jaskier wakes up tied back to back with Geralt. That wouldn’t be so bad. It happened before. But this is the time there is no hope of escape. And they’re running out of time before the vampire who is out for blood them will come back.

Content warning: injury, blood (both explicitly described), heavy angst, gruesomeness (no major character death)

"Jaskier?"

The voice came to him as if through a thick fog. His head was buzzing and it felt like tiny hammers were pounding against his temples from the inside. Simultaneously, the voice coming from somewhere behind him, urgent and almost afraid was too loud.

Jaskier tried to lean away, to put distance between himself and the voice, but all that did was send a strain through his chest, where something – a thin rope that kept him sitting upright? Binding him to something behind him? – cut into him with the movement, tight enough that it was hard to breathe.

"Jaskier! Are you awake?"

That voice was familiar. It was safe. Geralt. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut tightly and shook his head, trying desperately to get that fog in his mind to go away.

" 'm fine," he groaned and blinked against the dark splotches in front of him until they slowly receded. Not that that did him much good. He didn’t recognise the room they were in. The fancy furniture certainly didn’t belong to a room at an inn. The bed that stood at the wall was lavish and fit for a lord. Jaskier was rather certain that he would remember such a bed if he had seen it before. "On second thought, I might be having a problem."

Geralt huffed out a humourless laugh. "No shit." He sounded strained. As if he was trying his best and still failing miserable to keep fear out of his voice. Why was Geralt afraid? Geralt was never afraid.

Jaskier tried to move again, to turn to Geralt, but once again the ropes prevented him.

“Stop moving,” Geralt growled and only now did Jaskier recognise what he was leaning against. He was sitting – or rather bound– back to back with Geralt. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together tightly in frustration and looked down on himself. Sure enough, the ropes didn’t seem as if they would come loose by him wiggling around. He furrowed his brows when he saw something dark and crusty on his doublet. He had seen something like this too often to mistake it for anything else. It was dried blood. His blood.

His stomach churned and he had to suck in a deep breath to stop the bile from rising. It was a shame too. He had loved this deep blue doublet. Which was mostly because even Geralt had seemed to like it. The image of Jaskier presenting two doublets to him and Geralt telling him with a strangely fond look that the blue one fit his eyes would forever be seared into his mind. He could smell on himself that he had donned his favourite perfume – his favourite because it was the one Geralt had complimented once – thinking that maybe just this one time Geralt would notice him in the way he wanted to be noticed. As something more than just the bard that followed him like a stupidly loyal puppy. He remembered how excited he had gotten after that, knowing that Geralt would think he looked pretty when they got to the ball.

Wait.

The ball?

He squinted and searched the room again. It was true, the fancy decoration did look like it would belong to people rich enough to throw a ball. But that didn’t explain why Jaskier and Geralt were tied together and apparently left to rot in a different room from the jovialities. It also didn’t explain why Geralt had even gone to a ball without complaining in the first place.

Jaskier swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth but closed it again fruitlessly, when too many questions stormed his mind – far too many to decide with which one to begin.

In the ensuing silence, muffled laughter reached him through the walls. Laughter and music.

Strangely enough, the thought that shot through Jaskier at the sound was That should have been me.

And that had been Jaskier, he was sure of it. As he listened to the music rise and fall as if accompanying a complicated dance, his fingers twitched as if finding the chords to the sing without having the lute in hand.

There was no doubt in his mind. He knew and had played this song. He could almost see it: The ballroom full of dancing couples, admiring looks and the feeling that maybe later when Jaskier could excuse himself for a while, he would be able to gather the courage to ask Geralt for a dance.

But Geralt’s golden eyes hadn’t been part of the crowd of people watching him in admiration. A sinking disappointment came back, more memory than real emotion. He felt his heart drop as he remembered Geralt turning away and leaving him almost as soon as they had entered the ball room. The last glimpse Jaskier had caught of him had been his face set in a deep scowl and his shoulders had been tense.

And suddenly Jaskier knew which question was the most important one.

“Did you come back for me?”

“Jaskier-“ Geralt sounded strangely strangled.

“Did you? Or are you here with me now because you were forced to be with me? Is it somehow my fault again that we are in danger?”

Geralt remained quiet for a long time. Jaskier was almost certain that he would remain silent, when he felt Geralt shift behind him.

“I did come for you. Just not in time. I – I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

His voice was almost broken and Jaskier was sure that if he had been able to look him in the eye, Geralt would have averted his gaze. Bound as they were, Jaskier could do nothing but press his back closer against Geralt, by however little that was possible and pray that the feeling of Jaskier’s heartbeat against Geralt was enough to remind him that Jaskier was still alive – they both were – and Jaskier didn’t blame him.

Now that he thought of it, Jaskier remembered distinctly how he had seen a head of white hair weaving its way through the crowd towards him.

For a moment his head sped up, before he remembered the eyes of the person that had come towards them. They hadn’t been the honey-gold he had hoped for.

But they had been unusual enough to make it impossible for Jaskier to look away. To make him think that for a little while he could pretend. And those eyes had looked at him almost hungrily. It had sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. He had relished in the attention and obvious interest.

It hadn’t been what – who – he had wanted. But it had been the closest thing he would ever get.

When finally the time had come for Jaskier to take his break, he hadn’t searched for Geralt to ask him for a dance after all.

He didn’t remember if he had been the one to approach the alluring white-haired stranger first of if he had been the one to be approached. It didn’t matter. He clearly recalled following the man willingly – no. That wasn’t quite the right word. Will had had nothing to do with it. He had wanted it, certainly, but thinking back on it now, Jaskier didn’t think he would have been able to leave this man, no matter how strong his will.

But who was he kidding? He wouldn’t have tried to leave anyway. Not when he had looked at Jaskier in the way he had longed for. Not when he had looked so much like the man he wanted to look at him in that way.

He remembered wanting whatever the stranger was willing to give him.

And then he remembered screaming. For Geralt. But not in pleasure. No, that had been the farthest thing from his mind. He had screamed and whimpered and begged in agony. A sudden, sharp, searing pain in his neck.

Now, that pain was little more than an irritated throbbing over his pulse-point.

He didn’t even notice that he let out a soft whimper as the memories of the stinging in his neck came back to him, but he felt Geralt tense and twist as if that he would be able to look at him.

“Jaskier?” Geralt grunted in frustration and flexed as if that could loosen the ropes. It must hurt him. The ropes must cut into him just as much as they did into Jaskier. And yet he didn’t stop, as if in this moment nothing was as important to Geralt than being able to see him. “Jaskier, what is wrong?”

Jaskier let out a dry laugh. “Do you want a list?”

There were too many things that were wrong, Jaskier was sure he didn’t even recall all of them, but at the very least he was here with Geralt.

He didn’t know if that made it better or worse. He didn’t want to be alone. Whatever was going on, Geralt’s presence at his back, his touch although involuntary, made it so much more bearable. But Geralt evidently wasn’t able to escape the bindings. He too was forced to sit on the cold floor and wait for whatever was about to happen. Maybe nothing would happen at all. Maybe they were to stay here until they died of thirst, forgotten by whoever had discarded them in this room.

It was simultaneously the worst and best thing, having Geralt here with him.

Geralt, who was still struggling to turn towards Jaskier.

And he wanted it too. More than anything did he want to be able to touch Geralt, to cup his cheek as he reassured him that he was alright. He wanted to see Geralt’s eyes.

He turned his head and sucked in a sharp breath. The wound on his neck had opened up again at the movement and Jaskier could feel a drop of warm blood trickle down his throat.

Geralt’s movements became even more urgent. It was only when they became harsh enough to jostle Jaskier about and making him cry out, that Geralt became deathly still, as if afraid to move even a single muscle.

“Don’t move, Jaskier. Don’t – I can’t risk you losing any more blood.”

“Don’t you mean I can’t risk it?” Jaskier teased, though his stomach twisted into knots at Geralt’s slip of the tongue.

Geralt remained silent for a long while. His reply was but a breath, so quiet that Jaskier wasn’t even sure if he had really heard it or if it was just his panicking mind hearing what it wanted.

“I can’t lose you, Jask.”

Jaskier’s breath got stuck in his throat. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to reassure Geralt that he wouldn’t lose him, that he would stay with him till the end – which might be nearer than he had imagined. He wanted to ask him what he had meant. He wanted to beg him to tell him that it meant more than just Geralt feeling guilty for Jaskier’s injury.

But no words left his lips. Instead he complied and stilled. He rested his head back against Geralt’s, relished in that contact as if it was something more intimate. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that the way their bodies were pressed together was because Geralt wanted it and not because they had no other choice than to stay like this.

Geralt didn’t move his head away. If anything, it almost seemed as if he was leaning into the contact as well.

It was most likely just wishful thinking, but it was comforting nonetheless.

Jaskier wished he too could hear Geralt’s heartbeat. As it were, he barely could hear his breathing. He knew it was there, but his own ragged breath and his own racing heart was too loud in his ears.

Geralt’s touch wasn’t enough. For years it had been what Jaskier had craved. Every evening, he had wished to be brave enough to breach the gap between their bodies as they shared a bed and press himself against Geralt. Every time Geralt was hurt by monsters or words, Jaskier had to remind himself not to let his comforting embraces linger and turn them into something unwanted. He had dreamed about Geralt not shying away from his touch.

Yet now that he had nothing but his touch, it was too little. His chest was aching with the need to see him; the small crease between his brows as he frowned, the slight upturn of his lips when Jaskier said something that Geralt wouldn’t admit out loud he found funny, the way his eyes would sometimes soften when their gazes met while Jaskier played slow songs by the camp fire.

He needed to see him and yet he couldn’t.

Jaskier had learned to love Geralt’s silences. There was a grace in his ability to move unheard and a beauty in the way he only spoke when he felt comfortable enough to do so. Jaskier had relished in the trust Geralt would show when he opened up and let Jaskier in.

But now he wasn’t comfortable and Jaskier had nothing. Nothing but his touch that was burning him and still could never be enough. He needed more, more proof that Geralt was still here, that Jaskier wasn’t alone in this, that Geralt was alright. He needed to hear him. Be it a rustling of his clothes or one of his grunts.

Jaskier’s tongue darted out as his mind raced, trying to come up with something that would get Geralt to talk.

“You know,” he began slowly. “I am surprised that I even have any blood in me at all. That man…he was a vampire, wasn’t he?”

Geralt grunted in affirmation. Jaskier’s heart skipped at the beat and he held his breath, praying for something more.

Through some miracle, his wish was granted. But when Geralt spoke up again, his words were harsh and angry.

“Congrats on figuring it out,” he almost spat. “After you already let yourself be lured away by him. I told you to stay with the crowd. I told you not to follow me while I searched for the vampire.”

“I didn’t follow you,” Jaskier threw in meekly.

It evidently was the wrong thing to say, for Geralt let out a frustrated grunt.

“No you didn’t. Instead you followed the vampire. Why? Is it really so easy for everyone else to make you want them?” The angry words contradicted his earlier apologetic whispers, though the frustration in his voice stayed the same. Somehow Jaskier didn’t think it was directed towards him. “How could you not notice his eyes? They were gleaming as it got darker. He looked like a freak, he- “ Geralt’s voice broke off.

“He looked like you.” The words slipped past Jaskier’s lips before he had time to realise what they implied.

Behind him, Geralt froze. Jaskier could feel his muscles tense against his back and he knew if Geralt had been able to, he would have put distance between them.

“No, Geralt, that’s not – you know that’s not what I meant. You aren’t a freak. You are my friend. And I –“

“And you are in danger because of me.” He let out a frustrated grunt.

Jaskier huffed. “Really, Geralt? Are we doing this now?”

“Might not get any other chances.” Geralt sounded grim, all fight leaving him. “They are going to come back and finish what they started. And I can’t protect you. I couldn’t before and I sure as hell can’t now.”

“But you did protect me, didn’t you?”

Jaskier’s insides were cold and he knew Geralt must sense his quickly rising fear. Years ago, Jaskier would have said that Geralt was just being dramatic. That there was no way he wouldn’t be able to get them out of this situation alive. But a lot had happened since then. Too many times had Jaskier seen Geralt lying in a puddle of his own blood and on the brink of death. If Geralt said that they would die today…Jaskier trusted him. He trusted Geralt’s skill with a sword. But he also trusted his words.

At least they would be going together.

He closed his eyes, focussing fully on the feeling of Geralt leaning against him. He turned his head, not enough to tear the wound open once more, but just enough that Geralt would be able to feel the motion, that he would know that Jaskier wanted to look at him.

“I’m not dead.” Jaskier forced a cheer that he didn’t feel into his voice. The least he could do was make sure that Geralt wasn’t eaten up by guilt about this. Whichever way this ended, it wasn’t Geralt’s fault. “Granted, this situation isn’t ideal, but I am still alive and able to talk your ear off. So obviously you must have saved me.”

“I didn’t,” came Geralt’s harsh reply, almost like a bark. “I couldn’t. You are not safe.”

If Jaskier had been able to move, he would have put his hands on his hips. If Geralt had been able to see his expression, he would have made a grimace that made it clear what exactly Jaskier thought about Geralt’s self-deprecation

But he couldn’t. So he settled on putting as much challenge into his voice as he could.

“Oh yeah? Then why did the vampire leave? Because I very much remember being sucked dry by one – and not in the fun kind of way.”

Geralt let out an unamused laugh. “He said he left because your perfume was too bad.”

Jaskier really wished he could see Geralt’s face right now. He wished he could see his smile, even though he knew it wouldn’t be there. In any other situation, Geralt would wear a grin as he teased Jaskier about his perfume. Now though, Jaskier was almost certain that he scowled even as he told the joke.

Jaskier’s fingers itched to smooth out the crease of worry that was no doubt etched onto Geralt’s face.

“Oh haha, very funny,” he said instead, trying to put as much teasing into his voice as possible, a vain attempt to get Geralt to smile even now. “Come on. If this is as dramatic a situation as you believe, you could at least humour me. One last story to tell me. So, why am I not dead?”

“Because this vampire is a sick bastard,” Geralt bit out. “Likes to play with his prey.”

“Play?” Jaskier’s voice was squeakier than he would ever admit should anyone ask. If he even lived to tell the tale, that was.

Geralt hummed. “He likes his prey to be awake. So he can hear the screams and pleas.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Jaskier’s neck and he did all he could not to shiver at Geralt’s words.

“Alright,” he said, chipped. “So that explains why I’m alive. But what about you? Why didn’t he kill you? Not that I’m not very grateful that you’re alive, of course.”

Geralt hesitated and Jaskier could practically hear him think. When Geralt finally answered, his words sounded almost like a confession.

“Like I said.” Geralt squirmed; another useless attempt to free himself. “They want to see their prey desperate and begging.”

A snort escaped Jaskier that quickly turned into laughter. It was fuelled by panic and was bordering on hysteric, but it felt freeing to laugh nonetheless. Geralt didn’t join in.

“Why on earth would you beg? Remember Dol Blathanna? This is just like it was back then. It ends the same way it began. It’s almost-“

“If you say poetic, I will beg that vampire to kill me first just so that I don’t have to listen to you talk about making this into a song.”

“You wound me, Geralt. But this is exactly what I am talking about. Back then, you practically did the opposite of begging, what with your whole noble sacrifice act.” When Geralt didn’t reply, Jaskier tried to nudge him with his elbow. It didn’t work. “Come on, Geralt. Even you must admit that it’s hilarious that this vampire really thinks you would beg for anything.”

Geralt remained stoically quiet. There was a strange tension in his silence that froze Jaskier’s grin and made his chest squeeze painfully.

“Geralt –“ he began, but was interrupted by the doors flying open.

Without thinking, he turned his head to see what was happening. It stung and he pressed his lips into a thin line, but he barely registered the pain. There was no space for such a trivial thing when cold terror filled him instead at the sight of the white haired man striding into the room with an air of complete confidence.

Though man was hardly a fitting description anymore. Where he had possessed an almost ethereal beauty before, he was now grotesque. The hunger in his eyes had turned into starvation. His smile that had been charming before was too wide and filled with too many teeth. His fingers were more reminiscent of claws than human hands.

Everything about him screamed predator. Death.

He walked towards them in graceful, measured steps as if he had all the time in the world. He moved with the superiority that only came from nobility or a hunter that knew his prey was lying helplessly by his feet with no hope for escape.

A low growl rose in Geralt’s chest and Jaskier could feel the rumble in his back. It did nothing to soothe him.

They all knew that this was it.

Jaskier was staring death in the eyes when his entire being longed to see another pair of eyes instead. Maybe that was the worst part. Jaskier had never put much thought into his own death. But he had always hoped that in his last moments he would be able to look into Geralt’s eyes, maybe even see some hint of affection in them.

Now, he had not even this.

“Geralt,” he whispered. From the way the vampire’s eyes lit up in delight, it had been a pitiful attempt at keeping his desperation hidden from him. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was that Geralt heard him.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt answered, equally quiet, a bittersweet pretence that their would-be murderer didn’t hear every word. “I’m sorry, Jask.”

“I’m not.” Jaskier’s heart was pounding in terror and his palms were damp with sweat, but of this, he was certain. “I’m not sorry that I am here with you. I would follow you everywhere.”

Geralt didn’t answer, but he twisted in their restraints until Jaskier could feel callused fingers touch his hands. The ankle was uncomfortable, but Jaskier clutched Geralt’s hand with all his mind. Geralt gave him a light squeeze that said more than any amount of words could.

For an insane yet peaceful moment, Jaskier thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. There were worse things than dying with Geralt holding his hand.

“How adorable,” the vampire drawled as he took in their linked fingers with a mocking half-smile. “You two are disgustingly sweet. It’s almost ruining my appetite. Do you have any sappy last words too?”

Jaskier did. There were things he had never told Geralt, that he needed him to know. But he would rather die silent than let this vampire witness him baring his soul.

Instead he ran a thumb clumsily over Geralt’s knuckles, praying that he understood everything that Jaskier didn’t dare put into words.

“No?” The vampire looked almost disappointed. “I would have expected more from you, bard.”

“What can I say?” Jaskier gave him a falsely sweet smile. “I live to disappoint. And I can’t say you weren’t disappointing either.”

The vampire’s face twisted into something ugly and within the blink of an eye he had crossed the room. Jaskier flinched back as the vampire crouched down before him and caressed his face with a mockery of tenderness.

“Oh, quite the contrary, my dear Jaskier,” he said, honey in his voice but his eyes filled with ice. “You could never disappoint. Not when you beg so beautifully.” His fingers left Jaskier’s cheek to trail down to his neck, as softly as a lover would. A whimper escaped Jaskier when the vampire’s fingers caressed the wound his teeth had torn into him before. The vampire looked at it almost in admiration. “Do you remember how you screamed? How you begged your witcher to come save you?” He got closer, until his too sharp teeth were right next to Jaskier’s ears. “I want to hear you scream again.”

Teeth sank into his flesh, tearing him open. Obscene slurping noises and moans filled the air as the vampire drank Jaskier’s blood.

It was an utterly inappropriate thought, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Jaskier remembered the romance novels he had read when he was younger, about how sensual it felt to have a vampire drink from someone. About how they had special venom that numbed the pain.

What a load of bullshit. There was nothing sensual about this and the vampire dragged his teeth through Jaskier’s flesh as if he wanted to make this as painful as possible. If that was his goal, he was succeeding.

Hot fire raced through Jaskier’s blood and he could feel the tips of his fingers begin to tingle and the dark spots from before crept back into his vision.

He was beginning to lose all feeling in his hand and somehow, despite the pain, the fear, the certainty of his impending death, that was the worst part. That soon he wouldn’t be able to feel Geralt’s hand in his.

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt so much, but Jaskier pressed his lips together as tightly as he could, refusing to let a single cry leave him. He wasn’t a brave man and he wasn’t heroic. But he wouldn’t let Geralt hear his screams as he died. He couldn’t do that to him.

And yet, there were screams.

It took Jaskier’s sluggish mind a moment to realise that those weren’t his own screams. They were Geralt’s. For a moment, he almost thought they were but memories of Dol Blathanna, but no. Back then, Geralt had told the elves to leave Jaskier alone with no feeling other than responsibility and guilt.

Now, his voice was laden with fear and unbridled desperation.

The words he screamed didn’t make sense to Jaskier, but he knew the emotion behind them. It was the same thing he had felt every time he had seen a monster charge at Geralt or when he had been forced to press his hands against a wound in Geralt’s stomach, pleading with him to stay with him.

There was a word for it. Jaskier was sure of that. But he couldn’t for the life of him think of it now. Everything was too muddled, burning too hotly, agonizingly.

And then the vampire drew back. A sharp gasp escaped Jaskier and he would have fallen forward, had he not been held upwards by the ropes.

“Jaskier,” Geralt asked, panic surging through his voice.

“Still alive,” Jaskier panted with a crooked smile, though he knew that Geralt wasn’t able to see it. Perhaps he could hear it in his voice. “And by the looks of our new friend, my blood doesn’t taste too good.”

The vampire bared his fangs at Jaskier’s words.

“Oh, don’t you worry, pretty one.” The vampire’s tongue darted out to lick a stray droplet of blood from his lips. “You taste delicious.”

“Thank goodness,” Jaskier deadpanned through clenched teeth. “Why don’t you drink some more then? Maybe you’ll choke on it.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt warned him harshly.

The vampire’s smile widened. He ran a hand through Jaskier’s hair, almost soothingly, before he gripped his hair tightly and yanked his head to the side.

Jaskier braced himself for the sharp pain to pierce through him again, but instead of biting into him, the vampire took a long sniff at his neck before drawing back in disgust.

“You would be truly perfect, my dear,” he said coldly, “if it weren’t for that disgusting smell. I can barely scent your blood through it.”

Jaskier blinked at him. “Really? You’re about to kill me and you complain about my perfume? Pardon me for not exactly being sympathetic towards your great woes right now.”

“No matter,” the vampire said, ignoring Jaskier’s words completely, “doesn’t change a thing about the taste.”

The vampire opened his mouth once more and Jaskier could already feel the teeth gracing his skin, when Geralt jostled him to the side.

“Spare him,” he growled and there was something broken about his voice. “Don’t kill him.”

The vampire tsked in disapproval. “Now, you know I won’t do that. Why don’t you try again, come up with a better suggestion?”

Glee stood in his eyes. Every sign of him enjoying this torture made nausea rise in Jaskier’s throat.

“Then kill me first.”

“No! Geralt, don’t say something like that!” Jaskier twisted his head. The movement sent piercing agony through his neck, but he fought back against it. He needed to see Geralt. He clutched his hand as tightly as he could, as if that could somehow dissuade Geralt from this madness. Quieter, barely louder than a breath, Jaskier added, “Don’t make me listen to you die.”

“Oh, now it’s getting interesting.” The vampire tilted his head to the side, his eyes darting from Jaskier’s wide-eyed expression to Geralt who must look as stoic and undeterrable as ever. “The both of you, begging for each other’s life. The question is only, who is begging more beautifully?”

“He’s a bard,” Geralt spat. “If it’s words you want, he has more of them than I do. And look at him.” Geralt’s head jerked back, nodding towards Jaskier. “He’s not going to make it long is he? I am a witcher. You can drink from me for longer.”

The vampire let out an appreciative hum. “You would do that to the bard? You would prolong his suffering and listen as I drained you for hours?”

Geralt hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice was so unexpectedly soft that it made Jaskier gasp.

“I am sorry. I promised to keep you safe. This is the best I can do.”

“It’s not enough.” The vampire taunted, but his words were dripping with truth. “You will both die. But before he does, I will make him look at you, see how loud he can scream when he sees what I’ll have left of you.”

Jaskier whimpered, a plea leaving his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t stop the images of Geralt’s lifeless body from assaulting his mind.

“I’ll hate you,” Jaskier whispered. “Geralt, if you make me go through this, I will hate you. I’ll never forgive you.”

A harsh breath escaped Geralt and this thumb brushed oh so tenderly over Jaskier’s knuckles.

“I’d rather you hate me than me having to live knowing that I could have saved you.”

Jaskier wanted to shake his head, to protest, but the vampire’s grip was still tightly holding him in place. Jaskier’s eyes burned and his throat was impossibly tight. Tears rolled down his cheeks, his chin, his neck and he could feel them mixing with his blood.

“I can’t,” he sobbed. He hadn’t wanted to say this. Not like this, not in front of their murderer who watched the exchange hungrily. But he couldn’t stop himself. He needed Geralt to know. “I can’t hate you. I- Geralt, I love you.”

Geralt let out a strangled noise, before he found his voice. “Then let me do this.”

Jaskier��s shoulders wrecked with his sobs, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak up again. He had said everything he could say. Now the only thing he could do was let Geralt be the hero Jaskier had always known him to be one last time.

Jaskier’s silence must have been answer enough for the vampire. Ever so slowly, the grip in Jaskier’s hair loosened and the vampire stood to his full height.

“Don’t worry,” the vampire told Jaskier as if he was a parent calming their child. “I will make it slow. You will have your beloved by your side for as long as possible. And it won’t take you long to follow after him.”

Relishing in every second of Jaskier’s agony, the vampire slowly rounded him until he came to a halt before Geralt.

Geralt didn’t scream, didn’t even draw in a sharp breath, as if he didn’t want Jaskier to hear what was happening.

It was in vain.

There was no mistaking the stomach-churning squelch of the vampire biting into flesh.

It was the most horrible sound Jaskier had ever heard. He couldn’t listen. He needed to drown out those sounds. Words tumbled from Jaskier’s lips. Pleas, screams, whispered words he was desperate for Geralt to hear.

If Geralt were to die now, the last thing he ever heard shouldn’t be Jaskier’s cries. It should be reassurances of how he couldn’t have done anything different, of how Jaskier didn’t blame him for a single thing, of how much he was loves. That more than all else.

Jaskier had no control over his words. He couldn’t tell what else he was saying, only that time and time again, he repeated the words he had been too much of a coward to say before it had been too late.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It felt like hours. Geralt’s body was tense and Jaskier’s voice became hoarse, giving out and leaving nothing but the horrible sounds of the vampire killing Geralt.

But nothing was as terrifying as when the sound of the vampire devouring Geralt suddenly stopped.

Jaskier’s blood turned to ice and claws of despair plunged into his chest.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered into the silence. There was no reply. A pit opened up in Jaskier’s chest. He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg, but all of his words had dried up. What use were words anyway? They hadn’t been able to save Geralt and now that he was gone, there would be no one to listen to them other than the reason why Geralt would never again say another word.

The vampire must have held Geralt up, for when Jaskier now heard the rustling of clothes as the vampire stood up again, Geralt slumped over and dragged Jaskier with him to the ground.

Jaskier’s side hit the floor painfully, but he was too numb to care.

He looked up with all the contempt he could muster as the vampire came into his view again. But there was something off about the way he moved. He had been slow before, but there had been a regal elegance to it, perfectly controlled. Now his movements were sluggish and almost wooden.

He didn’t crouch before Jaskier as he had before. Instead he fell to his knees.

“It’s your turn again,” the vampire purred – no, slurred.

Jaskier’s brows drew together and he narrowed his eyes. They widened again when they landed on the blood that was smeared around the vampire’s mouth. It was black.

The same colour of Geralt’s blood after he had drank his potions. The potions that were toxic to anyone who wasn’t a witcher.

But why – the vampire should have been able to smell it. He would have never drunken poisoned blood. Except…he hadn’t been able to smell the blood, had he? He had said so himself. The perfume had been too strong, strong enough to even overpower the smell of the toxins.

A disbelieving laugh escaped Jaskier. The vampire whirled around as if to fix Jaskier with a death-glare, but his eyes were unfocussed. He bared his teeth and surged towards Jaskier.

He didn’t reach him alive.

With a heavy thud, the body landed on Jaskier, unmoving. Dead.

For a terrifying moment, Jaskier didn’t dare move. The only sound in the room was his own panting breath. The noises of the ball had long since subsided.

He was alone.

The knowledge sank into his chest like a stone dropped into the ocean. He was alone. Geralt had saved him – had given his life to save him – and now he’d have to save himself.

With more strength than he thought he still possessed, Jaskier twisted in his bindings, kicking at the vampire’s body until it moved.

Bile rose in his throat when his free hand found the vampire’s head and pried his mouth open. He fumbled and he cut himself on the teeth, but he persisted, yanking the rope as good as he could against the sharp teeth until finally, they snapped.

Jaskier rolled to the side, panting heavily, as his chest finally was no longer restricted.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he counted his own heartbeats.

Ten. Ten heartbeats he allowed himself, before he clenched his jaw and faced Geralt’s body.

Tears stung in his eyes and his face was contorted to a grimace of grief and pain as he grabbed Geralt’s heavy body and rolled him onto his back.

He wouldn’t be able to get him out of here. Even if Jaskier had normally been strong enough to carry him, there was no way, he would be able to do so now, with his vision swimming at the tiniest of exertions.

Still, his insides twisted painfully at even the idea of leaving Geralt all alone here lying next to the man – the monster - who had killed him.

Jaskier’s eyes darted frantically through the room before they landed on the bed. It wasn’t what Geralt would have wanted and it was worse than he deserved, but it was the best Jaskier could do.

Jaskier’s hands shook, as he grabbed Geralt beneath his arms and tried to hoist him up. As he more dragged than carried Geralt to the bed, his knees gave out under him more than once and he had to furiously blink away the darkness that threatened to swallow him once more.

When he finally heaved Geralt onto the bed, Jaskier nearly collapsed on top of him.

When he had gathered enough strength to right himself once more, he felt his heart jolt in his chest. Geralt didn’t look peaceful as he lay in a stranger’s bed. He didn’t look like he was just sleeping. Half of his neck was smeared with blood and his skin was deathly pale. Jaskier had seen him like this before, every time Geralt had taken his potions that had drained his face of all colour. But he had always known that sooner or later, Geralt would open his eyes again.

He wouldn’t ever do so again now.

For once he had gone where Jaskier couldn’t follow.

Taking a shaking breath, Jaskier reached out. His hand found the cool metal of the medallion. It felt wrong taking it from him. Geralt never took it off. Never.

But Jaskier needed to give it back to his family. They deserved to have this. And Jaskier was selfish enough that he wanted to keep something of Geralt’s with him too, for as long as he could.

His breath hitched. He would have to return to Roach alone. He would somehow have to make her understand that Geralt wasn’t going to come back to her.

His hand trembled and slid off the medallion, landing on Geralt’s chest, right above his heart. How often had he pressed his hand against this place and complained to Geralt that he could feel nothing? That his heart was too slow? Now, he would give everything to know that that was the reason why there was no beat beneath his hand.

After a too long moment of hopeless hope, Jaskier lifted his hand off of Geralt. It came away sticky with blood.

Jaskier worked almost mechanically. Wiping away the blood, first from his hand and then from Geralt’s neck. He used random pieces of fabric to bandage the wound as he had done so often before. He knew it was useless, it was too late, but still, there was a comfort in the familiar motions.

He didn’t know how long he worked like that. It didn’t matter. He treated Geralt’s wound as best he could until there was nothing left for him to do.

His mouth went dry, as he brushed a strand of Geralt’s hair behind his ear. He was so beautiful. Jaskier wished he had had the strength to tell Geralt before it had been too late.

The certainty that this was the last time he would ever see Geralt buried itself into Jaskier’s chest like a blade.

“You did it,” he whispered, a watery smile on his lips. “You saved me.” It was already too late. Geralt couldn’t hear his words anymore, but Jaskier couldn’t leave without telling him. He owed that much to him. “I don’t care what you said before. I am alive. Because of you.” A sob interrupted his words. “I will never forget you. I promise. I love you. I-“

His voice broke one last time. Too many things had he left unsaid between them and now he would never get to say them in any way that mattered.

His fingers trailed over Geralt’s face, desperate to memorise every scar, every feature, as if those weren’t already branded into Jaskier’s mind.

His finger’s came to a halt above Geralt’s slightly parted lips. Jaskier could almost imagine a faint breath ghosting over his fingers. But that was impossible. Wishful thinking, nothing more.

Still, he let his fingers linger and leaned closer, grasping onto this last impossible hope.

And then it happened. Geralt’s lips moved. No sound left them, but Jaskier could still understand the word they formed. It was a name. His name.

“I am here!” Jaskier’s other hand cupped Geralt’s cheek. “Geralt, I’m here. I am safe. You are safe. You did it, you – you’re alive!”

“’s loud,” Geralt mumbled faintly, but his lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile. His eyes opened just the tiniest bit, but the sliver of gold they revealed was the most beautiful sight Jaskier could imagine.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice got stronger with the word, though his shallow breaths were laboured and it was obvious how much it pained him to speak.

“You bastard.” Jaskier let out a laugh that might as well have been a sob. “You made me think you were dead. Don’t ever do that to me again!”

“I won’t.” Geralt’s expression softened impossibly. “And I… I wouldn’t leave you without telling you…”

Geralt tried to lift his hand, but the effort was too much. Jaskier caught it mid-air and pressed it against his own cheek.

“What? Tell me what?” he breathed.

Geralt’s thumb caressed his cheek with aching tenderness.

“That I love you.”

Jaskier’s heart felt like it would burst, like all of the agony, all of the fear and despair had been chased away with just these four words that he had never dared to dream he would ever hear come out of Geralt’s mouth.

“Tell me again?” he asked with a shaking voice.

A glint entered Geralt’s eyes and his lips twitched slightly. “You first.”

“I love you,” Jaskier said without hesitation. “I love you. And you better not wait until the next time I think you’re dead to say it back again.”

“I won’t.” For a moment Geralt looked at him, searching his face as if Jaskier was a miracle he couldn’t figure out. “I will say it as often as you want to hear it. For however long you are willing to have me.”

“Forever?” Jaskier had aimed for a teasing tone, but instead it came out tentative and small.

He could see Geralt’s throat bob labouredly as he swallowed. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is. I never want to lose you again. I can’t.”

“Then you’ll have me forever.” He paused. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned his face slightly, just enough to press a fleeting kiss against Geralt’s palm, but still holding eye contact. “Yes?”

“I can’t lose you either. I love you.”

#thanks for the prompt!#so this was not supposed to be that long #i thought it was going to be less than 2k #and yet here we are #prompt #my writing #geraskier #angst #injury #blood #geraltxjaskier #witcher #witcher fic #fanfic #fic #geralt/jaskier

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reluctant-mandalore · 4 years

Note

What about reader being into coma and Din Djarin telling sad and cute things and trying desperately to wake reader up. 😪

Warnings: angst, fluff, medical: coma, established relationship, emotional hurt, sad mando hours, use of the child’s name, not beta read

Word Count: 992

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

a/n: This had been in my ask box forever because I really wanted to write for it, but had no inspiration. So I just hoarded it until I got the energy to do so. Either way... I hope you enjoy it! I’m a bit rusty with writing angst it seems and I honestly dont think this is my best work, but hopefully it still turned out well. Also I can’t write endings to save my life.

Also also, on the masterlist and ao3, this will be titled as wait.

The Mandalorian had sat next to the cot without much thought—keeping the person who rested among the sheets company. His hand still clutching their own tightly, as he stared at nothing in particular and let the time pass on by. His mind still finding itself in shambles at the knowledge of their condition only worsening.

Din’s gaze did eventually drift over to his partner due to the feeling of their fingers twitching under his own. The drop of hope he felt at that moment dwindling away all too soon though, at the sight of their peaceful appearance. Their features remaining motionless and as still as stone, like there was nothing that could ever brighten them again.

Maybe there wasn’t for all he knew.

They had been in a coma for what felt like forever now. Although, in reality, it had only been a week since he had last seen them awake and well. Something which still felt far too long as far as the Mandalorian had been concerned. Soon starting to make him feel desperate for a solution to rouse them from their deep slumber.

Every doctor he had brought in though had kept telling him the same thing over and over again. Each one saying that the only thing he could do now was wait. His partner was healed and healthy, but here was nothing they could do to wake their sleeping mind. The only thing he could do was wait for them to wake up on their own. There was nothing he could do to help.

All he could do was wait.

“I miss you.” He had said as he watched over them. Allowing for his thumb to brush along the back of their hand fondly, “I mean… I know you’re still here, but you’re also not here at the same time.”

Din had paused at his choice of words, a heat flushing over him at how ridiculous he sounded. His teeth soon sinking into his bottom lip, as he started to maul over what he had said. His thoughts feeling scattered and muddled the more he found himself lost in them. Even now, with them unconscious, he still managed to mess up his words. Talking had never really been his strong suit in the first place. He always seemed to be mumbling and mixing up his thoughts when speaking, especially when it involved them, the person he adored most.

“That didn’t make sense. Did it?” He had finally spoken again with a soft sigh, looking away to stare off in the distance like he had been earlier, “I’m not good with my words, but I think you knew that already.”

Another silence had fallen over the Mandalorian, his eyes looking back to their face and feeling his heart sink at seeing their still sleeping features. He found himself lost while looking over them, a new ache developing inside of him at the sight. Soon bringing a new surge of sadness and pain bubbling within him. Spreading through and bringing him down into a crumbling mess of emotions.

“The child and you are probably the best things to ever come into my life.” He had said in his sorrowful state, his voice cracking with each syllable spoken, “I really mean it too. I… I’ve never met someone like you. I’ve never loved someone like I love you Cyar’ika.”

Tears had formed at the corner of his eyes, the drops falling soon after and rolling down his face in salty trails. He could feel his lip tremble, and he bit it again to stop its movement. He wasn’t used to crying. After many years of keeping his emotions and feelings to himself, he had learned how to stop the tears from ever falling. Yet now, while looking at his love laying in a deep sleep, he couldn’t seem to stop them all from coming.

“It’s not just me either, ya know?” He said while sniffling, brushing away some of his tears as he continued talking, “The kid. I mean… Grogu. Grogu misses you so much. He wants his other buir back so badly. He wants you back just as much as I do—maybe even more. He loves you a lot and he needs you cyar’ika. Our son needs you just like I need you.”

Din had thought back to the child then, a small smile coming to his face at the fond memories which flooded had inside of him. His partner had always been good with the little one, treating him as if he was their own child. Something that had made Din fall in love with them all too quickly when they had first met. The idea of them all as a family warming his heart even with the sadness he still felt while sitting at their bedside.

“I just want you back. I want you to be fine and… I want you to wake up. Please Cyar’ika.” More tears had fallen as he spoke, his voice filled with a blend of emotions, “I want to see your smile and hear your voice again. I miss holding you and having those late conversations under the stars. Cyar’ika I miss you so much and I love you even more. You’re my everything...”

The Mandalorian had kept talking and talking, saying anything and everything he could think of in that moment. Sweet praises and adoring words leaving him in what felt like never ending waves. It didn’t seem to matter what he had said though, as his words couldn’t seem to bring his partner back to reality. Eventually leading to his voice having died out to silence once more. Their hand now held to his mouth, as he quietly cried and pressed his lips against their knuckles in a pleading kiss. He didn’t know when, or even if, his love would ever wake up again. Even worse, he knew there was nothing he could about it.

All he could do was wait.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #mando #mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfic #din #din x reader #mandalorian x reader #gender neutral reader #readers gender is never specified #my fics #Fic: Wait #not my best work tbh #but I think its ok

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ivyyreid · 3 years

Text

stars in your eyes

2 description: reader is tortured, spencer tries and save her.

category: definetly angst, maybe a teeny tiny bit of fluff?

tw: death, mentions of cuts, burns, kidnapping, words like ‘whore’, knives.

masterlist

spencer’s pov:

the team sits around the table, at the sacramento police department conference room. well, everyone but y/n. y/n is also the reason the team is in the conference room.

while the team was tracking down an unsub, y/n was kidnapped, drugged, and taken to who knows where.

at 27, she’s the youngest member of the team so everyone is protective of her. but it’s not just because of her age. it’s because she’s just herself. funny, sarcastic, bubbly, bold, gorgeous, and affectionate. even her flaws are lovable.

we all sit at the round table, discussing where she could be. the only thing we know, is that she was taken as leverage, or as a warning. all our other theories on where she could be are a bit too far-fetched.

our unsub is a woman named coleen robbins. she’s been kidnapping, torturing, and killing girls in their 20s who resemble the girl her boyfriend cheated on her with. y/n fit the description exactly. y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, and freckles. we didn’t notice until it was too late.

garcia's been on facetime with us for the past two hours, helping us trace pointless leads, or trying her best to track coleen. none of our efforts are working though. y/n’s phone is off, and coleen hasn’t used her credit card or anything. we’re at a loss.

hotch is pacing back and forth by the whiteboard, rossi is staring out the window, emily and jj are looking at every other victim’s file together, derek has his head in his hands, and I’m just sitting here. This is one of the only times where my brain is of no use to the team.

“hey guys?” Garcia’s voice is wobbly, somethings wrong. “i just got emailed a link. you’re gonna want to see this. i’m sending it to you now.” i’m racking my brain trying to think of what the link could be. i have nothing. that is, until a live feed pops up on the television. everyone gasps, and i feel all the blood rush from my face.

y/n is tied to a chair, in the middle of a dark room. there are burns, cuts and bruises all over her body. coleen stands behind her, twisting a knife in between her fingers.

“oh my god,” hotch mutters, and everyone else just stares at the television in stunned silence. “go on, you little whore. say your goodbyes,” coleen’s icy voice slips through the speakers in the room, and I hold back the urge to punch the tv screen.

y/n looks up, her face illuminated by a single light bulb. she smiles weakly. she’s the only person I know who would focus on others feelings in a situation like this.

“hey guys,” she says, her voice wobbling a bit. for some reason she’s smiling a bit. “i wish i could say bye in person, but this is the best i can do i guess,” she laughs weakly, and plays with her fingers; her nervous habit.

“rossi,” she starts, and he looks up at the screen, his eyes brimming with tears. “oh my god I’m going to miss you so much. you’re the only person I know who brings instant pasta in their suitcase, and you can always make me smile. just, keep being yourself, don’t change.”

“hotch, you’re like the strict, loving father I never had” her voice breaks, and she laughs a bit. no one else does. “you were always there for me, for my first dead body, my first case, everything. you’re the reason that i didn’t quit after my first case. you helped me get through it, and you can always keep me on track. i’ll miss you so much.” hotch tries to maintain a normal, serious expression but I can see the pain in his eyes.

“emily, you’re so funny and sarcastic and beautiful and amazing. i’m always wishing i knew more about you, you’re just so interesting! i still can’t tell if you were joking when you said you worked at a strip club or not,” a tear spills out of Emilys eye, and she mumbles something to the tv screen. “i love you endlessly, please please never change,” y/n says, and i see her blink away a tear or two through the screen.

“penelope, you’re probably one of the most unique, amazing people i’ve ever met. i remember on my first day i was so scared and nervous, and you just gave me a huge hug when i walked in, and I knew everything would be fine. i love your hair, and your outfits, and the way you greet the phone. i love you so much, never ever change or I will rise from the dead and perform some satanistic ritual on you” I hear penelope cry through the facetime video.

“derek. you’re just so great, and it will always amaze me how you always have a girl on your arm. i loved every second of getting drunk with you, even when you would force me to do karaoke. please do me a favor and marry penelope.” derek puts his hand on his head, and stays silent. i can see the emotion on his face.

“and jj, I don’t know how to thank you for being my first real best friend. i never really had people i could trust, but then i met you and i knew, i knew we would be friends until the end. you’re so gorgeous, i’ve spent hours wishing i was you. i’ll miss our saturday girl’s breakfasts, and our movie nights, and even you calling me at four am to say we have a case. love you forever.”

jj sobs, but everyone else is too upset to comfort her. i know it’s my turn for the goodbyes. but i can’t do it. i want to run out of the room, punch a wall, i can’t do this. i can’t watch her say bye to me, while i think about everything i never said, everything i should have said. i should have said it when we sat on the roof and watched the stars. i should have said it when we sat in the car and ate ice cream and listened to 90s music. i should have said it everytime we sat in the cafe and drank coffee with way too much sugar. i should have said it. but i didn’t. and now it’s too late.

“spencer.” y/n’s voice comes in through the tv, and i bring myself to look up. she has a sad smile on her face, and she’s holding back tears. “spencer, my best friend. not even my best friend. best friend was just too generic, you were so much more than a best friend. we were the type of people who would look at the stars together, and talk about constellations, and the theory of the universe together. we were the type of people who would come over to each others apartments at three am and watch movies or lay in bed and stare at each other and just talk. we were the type of people who would sit in the parked car, eating ice cream and forcing each other to listen to nineties music or beethoven. we would sit together in the police department for hours, drinking coffee to keep us awake while we tried to solve a case. we would laugh at each others jokes that no one else understood, and compare our opinions on classic novels. i remember the first day i met you, when i spilled coffee all over you in the elevator, and you told me this crazy fact about how meeting someone for the first time when you’re embarrassed strengthens a relationship. and then i remember i took you out for coffee because i felt bad, and then you accidentally spilled it on me. i remember getting home and laughing for hours. we were the type of people who were happier when we were with each other. and whatever star I was born under, you were born under it too. we’re not best friends spencer, we’re soulmates. and...and....I love you.” her voice breaks, and she looks at the camera with a nostalgic face, like she’s already gone.

i cry, i can’t help it. i just want to scream, ‘i love you too!’. i want her to hear me. but it’s too late. it will always be too late.

-------------------------------------------

we’re all in the suvs. coleen gave us her location. i know i should be rejoicing, but it was what she said after she gave it. ‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’ I yell at morgan to go faster, even though deep down i know he’s doing everything he can.

‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’

after what feels like an eternity, we pull up to a small shed. everyone jumps out of the van, vests on, guns and flashlights in their hands. morgan kicks down the door, and we all run in. i hear hotch yell that he has coleen, but i don’t care. i need to find y/n. i run from room to room, panicking, until I reach a small porch at the back of the house. and y/n’s there.

she always seemed so large in life, but now, nearing her death, she seems so small. like a little girl. i hold back tears, i have to be strong for her. she’s lightly breathing, and watching the sky. when I reach her, i sit down, and cradle her head in my lap.

“i wanted to see the stars,” she whispered, and i nod, watching her face.

“remember that day…. that day in the park?” she says, tilting her head to look up at me.

of course i do. we had just gotten back from a long case, and y/n had me come to the park with her, to watch the sunset. we laid down in the grass, and watched the sky. i was still struggling with the case, and i was telling her about how awful it was, when she grabbed my hand, and pointed at the sky. look at how beautiful the world is, she had said. without hard cases, and ugliness, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate this. we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the beauty of everything, she told me, and I remember I had just stayed silent, watching the angelic-looking girl.

“of course,” I say, and she smiles up at me, blood dripping down her face.

“remember how pretty the sunset was? how beautiful everything was? you have to remember the beauty of that day, spencer. the sky was glowing, and trees were rustling, and birds were singing. the earth is beautiful. that was the day I knew i loved you. when I held your hand, and we just looked at the sky.” she brings a hand up, and touches my face gently. of course she’s the one who’s comforting me when she’s dying. i stay silent, cradling her head, and stroking her hair. she looks at me again, and i see pain in her eyes. “i don’t want to die, spencer” y/n whispers, her voice breaking a bit, “i don’t want to die like this. i don’t want to die, spence” a tear slips down her cheek, and i notice i’m crying a bit. “hey, hey, shhhhh” i comfort, wiping the tear off her face. she stares back at the stars. this is my chance to tell her. i know she’s going to die, and it’s completely pointless because she already knows, but I have to.

“i love you, y/n. i love you so much. i’ve loved you, and i don’t want you to go”. the girl turns and looks at me, a sad smile on her face. “i know, spence. and i love you too. so much”. I stroke her hair, wishing I could kiss her but i can’t. she looks at my red eyes, and my tear stained cheeks, and starts humming. humming a song. our favorite song. my head fills the lyrics in.

you’re a part time lover, and a full time friend.

the monkey on your back is the latest trend,

i don’t see what anyone can see,

in anyone else.

i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,

i kiss you all starry eyed my bodies swayin’ from side to side

i don’t see what anyone can see,

in anyone else, but you.

here is the church, and here is the steeple,

we sure are cute for two ugly people,

i don’t see what anyone can see, in anyone else.

suddenly, she stops and turns and looks at me, and suddenly i realize this is it. “i can see the stars in your eyes, spence” she whispers, and i watch as the breath leaves her body. the way she sadly smiled, before her eyes glazed over to look at the sky, the way her lips parted. and it’s kind of beautiful. but there was something sad and terrible about it too. because it was death.

i can see the stars in your eyes, spencer.

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fandom-imagination-ss · 3 years

Text

Imagine: your father Tony hearing that Steve is debuting on returning back too the past for Peggy even those he’s engaged too you.. and it’s a week before the wedding.

“Your going too wait a week before my sweet baby girls wedding too break heart!” Tony snapped going towards his co-worker he’s friend. Steve Rogers. He’s held back as Steve takes it. He lets Tony Rant. There was nothing he could say too make this better. He was Leaving his love for another and No. amount of apologies will make this better. He was breaking his friends trust, a trust he honoured and protected when he first Asked Tony too have permission too ask you out. The trust too protect and love you forever. which he will. Just not in this time. Tony was furious Right now you were at the dress shop with your Step mom Piper, Nat, and Wanda trying on your dressing the final fitting before the wedding.

Steve hasn’t told you yet, he thought telling Tony first was a good idea. Bucky and Sam were in the corner Stunned hearing Steve’s plan. Bucky couldn’t believe Steve was giving you up. The first girl too ever make him Smile so widely that it made Steves cheeks hurt. the Same girl who listened too oldies music and was a Doll. She was the perfect women. And Bucky always stated how Lucky Steve was too have you. A shy, brilliant Strong, brave girl who didn’t take crap from nobody and took the time too Show both him and Steve the new world. Teaching them about the future. You are the bridge too the past and the future. Your love for vintage things , movies, books, music. Was what connected you too Steve and your loyalty too your family and your friends made Steve think he could finally have everything he ever wanted. But the trip back too the past. When he saw a glimpse of Peggy in her office.. and Steve was back too Peggy.

Tony was cursing loudly as Bucky walked over and Pouched his best friend, eh’s brother Straight in the face.which made the entire room quite. Steve let Buck hit him over and over until Sam and Hulk aka Bruce dragged Bucky of him as he cursed out that he never deserved y/n in the first place and that he will regret doing this too her. Before being pulled away too cool off.

Steve telling you about this decision later that evening went as well as you would expect a heart break too go. Steve left and you were in your wedding dress pissed ass drunk. One realizing he was serious. When everyone found you. Tony was beyond furious while Wanda was stunned. You looked up at Bucky and your heart Sank lower.

this betrayal was painful but Not as painful as Steve abandoning Bucky too be alone. he’s brother? Hes’ best friend since he was a boy. Leaving Bucky alone? You shot up hugging Bucky tightly crying saying you were so sorry that he didn’t deserve this . Bucky held onto you tightly as he cried into your shoulder.

the next day still drunk now full of anger at Steve betrayal you got too the time mechine and were inches from going back in time till Bucky stopped you as you screamed that someone had too give Steve a piece if their mind. He slipped. Away while everyone was focused on your heartbreak. But you were more furious about the heart Steve also left behind.

Your anger lead too Bucky making sure you were alright. And eventually over time that anger was gone and you were healed from Steve’s betrayal and you were fighting your urges for Bucky. Who originally fought against his own emotion and attraction for you . Since you were Steve’s girl but then Sam reminded him that you weren’t. You weren’t Steves girl- he’s girl was Peggy you were Single. And Bucky soon put a stop too that.

a year later

No one was more shocked about the outcome then Bucky. Finding Peace finally after all this time, finding a reason too better himself too be a better man. Too put his past behind him too be with you. It still surprised him a few morning when he wakes up too see you stretched out beside him snoring or your arms holding him tightly as you spoon him. He never thought he would enjoy being the little Spoon but he loved it with you. Majority of the time it’s him being the big spoon but sometimes it’s you holding him tightly.

this morning was No different. He woke up from the start of a nightmare too feel your cold hand on his bare chest. He opened his eyes fast feeling your hand too see your Engagement Ring it was Small and Simple. He hated it was so small when he went Ring shopping but you cried at how perfect it was. Your nails stretched his chest as he relaxed pulling the blankets up too re cover you as he held your hand as you muttered. “Bucky.”

he looked over seeing you were still smile as you smiled into your pillow. At First he thought this would never work out, Not with you No matter how badly he wanted this. He was worried about your past with Steve. He was the better man all the way around. But the first night when he slept over he heard you talking in your sleep and it was all about him and he was convinced he was safe from a heartbreak.

in the morning you got. Up looking over seeing Bucky was awake as you spoke, “morning sleepy head.” He chuckled as he spoke, “your the one who slept in.” Chuckling shaking your head, “no- see that would mean I am late. And I canceled everything this morning.”

“why?’

‘Piper wants too start wedding dress shopping.”

“you have a dress.”

looking at Bucky you laughed softly , “Yea- that’s my dress too Steve- i can’t re use it.”

“you never used it- he never saw it right.”

You nodded your head as you sat up sliding up onto his lap as he smiled looking at you. “Babe- I’m not using that dress- it’s a completely different Venue- plus I’m donating that dress.it’s in the donation box. Out in the living room.” He breathed deeply leaning his head against the headboard.

your wedding too Steve was going too be a big event. Your Wedding too Bucky was going too be just the avengers. A pot luck sort of wedding. You had billions of dollars but you just wanted close family and friends. You and Bucky decided too move out of the city too a farm house. Too have. Air and breath and too start your future. Your Dad loved the idea. Since he, Piper and your sister Morgan were at a lake house now. You were going too live close. (Not too close) but the reception was at your new house and your honeymoon was going too the mountains a normal. Originary life.

“you sure?”

you smiled brightly hearing him asking as you wrapped your arms around Buckys neck reaching over. Kissing him.

“Babe. I love you. I want the small wedding and just our close friends. And i want too have you with me forever. I don’t want the big wedding I just want you. I would go down too the city hall and marry you today if you would let me.” He chuckled softly stealing another kiss. The kisses were gettting heated until the door rang. It broke you both up as you both cursed as Bucky suggested too ignore it but you spoke, “it could be Piper- she could be early. You get Piper i’ll find my pants..”

He groaned softly but you got off him searching the floor finding your PJ pants. Bucky walked out heading too the front door as he got too the front door he opened it saying hey piper too be stunned too see Steve.

who was also stunned seeing Bucky shirtless at 7 am. At your apartment. Steve stared at Bucky as he tensed up, “what you doing here?”

Steve was young he barely aged as Bucky spoke, ‘I- Y/N.. It’s Not Piper...”

he called out stunned as Steve stepped into the appartment as you called out, “Do i still need too find my pants?”

they both caught sight of your PJ pants were on the floor leading towards your bedroom as Buck spoke, “Get dressed...”

Steve looked around spotting the donation box and seeing that all the memorabilia between him and y/n were gone. Replaced or simply empty spots. ‘What is going on here?”

Steve asked as Bucky spoke, ‘what you doing back? What about Peggy?”

Steve’s mouth shut at the mention of Peggy as You walked out wearing jeans shorts and one of bucky’s shirt as you rubbed your neck. “God, I’m exhusted i need coffee..- Steve.”

Spotting Steve you stopped in your tracks As he looked at you stunned wearing Bucky’s shirt as he spoke, ‘what is this?”

“what is this? Aren’r you suppose too be in the past? With Peggy?”

Steve didn’t answer as he spoke, “your sleeping with my best friend.”

“hey just- lets take. A breather.” Bucky stated as you stepped closer too the two super soilders, “yea, I am , I’m also living with him and marrying him.”

Bucky sighed hearing you say that, Steve looked at Bucky as he spoke, “what is this? I thought we were friends.”

Bucky turned too Steve as he spoke, “we didn’t plan for this too happen- we -we we got closer after you left.. it just happened.” You stepped over too Bucky staring at your former love shaking your head,

“we don’t have too explain ourselves! We fell madly in love! You abandoned Us! What aren’t we allowed too be happy?”

Steve looked at you for that as you snapped, ‘you expect me too sit here in a corner and be comatose for the rest of my life since the great Steve Rogers left me for Peggy Carter a women who moved on! In our time line! Who is probably a nice women. But how dare you coming into our Home and expect me too be miscible because you dumped me! I moved on! You moved on from me! What’s the big deal?’

“You moved on too my best friend!” Steve snapped as you stepped over as Bucky grabbed you as you snapped, “your abandoning me near the wedding was Awful but what you did too Bucky! I tried too go back in time too beat the Snot outta you!”

Steve was stunned as you snapped, “i was close! Two seconds more i would of zapped into the past and beat you up for abandoning Bucky!”

everyone was quite as you spat out, “what you doing here?”

“I made a huge mistake.. I- I shouldn’t of left you.. i- i was chasing a ghost.. and I’m sorry.’

You eased up in Buckys arm stunned hearing that as you held Buckys. Arm as you stared at the two.

“Steve..” he looked up at you hopeful as you spoke, “I love Bucky- your love was easy. I treasure it. But I cant live without Bucky.. I can’t leave him. I need him.. he needs me.. you- you never needed me..”

“maybe we should go for a walk and talk this out?” Bucky suggested as Steve looked at you two. His best friend and his best girl as he shook his head, “No- excuse me”

#fandom imagine #imagine #fandom #marvel imagine #bucky barns #Bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes imagine #winter soilder imagine #winter soilder #tony stark #tony stark imagine #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers #steve rodgers x you

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peakyxtommy · 4 years

Text

Better Days - Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark/Hurt/Comfort/Sad Fic/Slight Fluff

WC: 3.1K

Summary: Reader is having a bad time & Tommy comforts her

Gif Credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

It was another morning of waking up with the weight of the world on your chest. The heavy feeling of dread, as if you were walking around with a cement block in the middle of your heart. A day where rolling around to the other side of the bed and pulling the covers over your head seemed better than leaving to the outside world. Staying under the covers had the illusion to block out the light, to block out the pain you felt deep within you. A sadness that seemed to linger, never leaving your side. A continuous cycle, that seemed to never end. Always ready to swallow you whole, but never knowing when it would come. A monster in the closet, always lurking, searching for ways to collide right into you at the worst times possible.

When your feet collide on the cold wooden floor to carry yourself to the bathroom, to start with the routine of your morning, you already knew what kind of day it was going to be. Of mentally checking off the list of tasks to get you from one step to another. You try not to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, afraid to look into your eyes. Eyes that held so much pain and sorrow, eyes that have seen enough heartache. Eyes that have seen joy and happiness, wondering how you could feel the bittersweetness of both sides.

Once dressed and partially fed for the day you continue on through the notions of the day. Repeating the words back to yourself, to feel a sense of quiet, that you were actually going to make it through the day. The long hours of repetitive activity and small conversation with those that you encounter through the day. Masking who you are, pretending that things are okay as they seem. Feeling more energy suck out of you as the hours float on by. Your mind becomes bogged down like a boat in a storm on a foggy night in need of a lighthouse to guide it back safe to shore.

Minding counting down the hours until you could return home and hide. Hide from the world, your problems, and from the one you loved deeply. Shamed and guilt ridden to share the thoughts that held your mind captive on a loop, like a personal tape, running endlessly inside you. The tape that recounted every wrong, every lie, every misstep you have taken.

As soon as you stepped through the door and had your final conversation of the day thus far with Mary, it felt like a small win. You go and find comfort in the darkness and the burrow of blankets on your bed, surrounded by the warmth and love you so desperately craved, wanted to feel. Hoping the pieces would form back together again.

“Mary, have you seen (Y/N)?” Tommy asks as he comes through the door, placing his coat on the rack. You were usually out in the open when he came in early reading on the couch or in your craft room.

“She’s upstairs, lying down Sir.” The woman speaks with a soft tone.

“Is she feeling ill?” He questions with raised brows as it was still early in the evening.

“I think so Sir, she hasn’t eaten much these past few days. I went up a while ago to check on her but she’s sleeping, she’s been out for a while.”

“Thank you Mary, I’ll handle it from here.” He speaks ushering the maid off and heading toward the stairs. He was cursing himself internally for not noticing your emotional state sooner. That’s how he found you, when he creaks open the door. Your frame huddled under the covers, facing toward his side of the bed, with the small lamp by the bedside on.

He reaches the side of your bed, he sees the remnant of wet tears on your face. He takes a seat on the bed, hand reaching out to gently rub your arm to awake you from your slumber.

“Love, I’m home. Time to get up.” He whispers as you awaken to his voice and comforting touch.

“‘Hi Tommy.” You whisper back with a small smile. A smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“How was your day?” He says in a low tone, noticing the way your eyes close for a moment and the pout that appears on your face.

“Not good.” Is the only response that leaves your still pouting lips. It hurts and silently frustrates him that you two are the same in this regard but you are still the better of the two when it comes to others. Internally when you are struggling you're just as bad as him but in the opposite of taking it out on yourself and your body instead of the booze and smokes. He had gotten better than the first few months of your relationship of knowing when you were getting sad and things weren’t going good.

“Do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you?” He asks in a gentle manner not wanting to badger you but would if you didn’t speak the truth before you went to bed. He knew you always needed space when you were upset and then would let him in. The blue eyes that look so soft in this moment stare into yours with concern and worry. It hurt knowing you were hurting him in this way by remaining silent. You didn’t know why you’d do this still to this day and even as long as you two have been together. You were independent, strong, and prideful at times, but were the most scared when you had to open up your dark thoughts to the soul that loved you like hand craft jewels themselves.

“Maybe later. Need to shower.” You finally sit up and take his hand in yours just craving his touch and he reciprocates the action.

“Have a proper meal, heard you haven’t had much of an appetite these past few days.” His hands squeeze yours, thumbs rubbing circles on your hands.

“Yes, we’ll have a proper meal Mr. Shelby. Whatever it is you want we will have it.” You respond, resting your head against his chest for a moment.

“You go shower and I’ll see what I can get started in the kitchen.” His warm lips press into your forehead.

“Alright, I’ll meet you down there in a bit.” You give him a small smile and press your lips against his cheek, legs swinging over the edge to stand and stretch, him copying your motions. As you walk past him, he grabs your hand to get your attention, causing you to turn to look up at him.

“(Y/N), I love you. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.” You nod your head at his words ready to cry about them as you go run your shower. You watch as he leaves the room, the door closing shut behind him. The flick of a switch and twist of a knob, you find yourself undressing and climbing into the porcelain tub. Those were the days you sat in the hot shower, letting the droplets burn the skin. Wondering about why life has you so down, so paralyze by fear, you could barely breathe. You were drowning under the water and no one was there to pull you out.

That is where and when you were the most vulnerable. Alone. The most earth shattering sound releases through your lungs and tightens them back up as it moves through your body. You wonder how one person could have a multitude of tears stored in them that was infinite. It would only last for so long before you felt you could continue on with the task at hand that would bring you closer to the relief you were waiting for.

It was a rare sight to see and was one that you enjoyed when it did happen. It warmed your heart and brought a genuine smile to your face, despite the heaviness in your heart. You leaned against the frame, watching him in an element he was secretly good at but didn’t have the time to do.

Let alone did he ever sit still to finish an actual meal half the time but he would try his hardest for you because meals were sometimes the only part of the day you two would spend together. He was busy and worked at all hours of the day but you had a regular day job. He would try to come home early in the evenings to eat with you even if it meant he had to go back out or continue work in his office, or spend it with you. Sometimes you worked long hours or would have to bring work home that needed completion after hours.

He was wearing his round spectacles, which you enjoyed as it made him look more attractive than he already was. He was annoyed and embarrassed about them at first, but you’d always find a way to remind him how much you loved them. His sleeves were rolled halfway up revealing his strong forearms and ringed fingers that were slicing lettuce on a wooden cutting board. White dish cloth hanging from his shoulder.

“Looks like you’ve been busy here, Chef Shelby.” You teased making your presence known as he glances up at you with a playful stare.

“Only the best for you. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, I had to take the chance to admire what’s mine.”

“Only yours forever.” He passes you a slice of cucumber as you take a seat at the island.

“What are you cooking tonight?”

“Sausage, mash potatoes, and salad.”

“That sounds great. Thank you Tom.” You both grin at the other as you watch him play chef in the kitchen. It was satisfying as you haven’t had a moment to feel this good in the past couple of weeks. You sat talking about his day and him telling you a funny story of the younger Shelby clan over dinner.

You still had lots of stories to discover about the man in front of you as did him. It was ever evolving when one would share a new story, that would come to the conscious so vividly like a dream of the incident happening again. It wasn’t often Tommy told stories of his past but when he did was usual in moments like these or when you two were up late at night together talking like two young lovers in love.

It was moments like these where it felt easier to breath, even if it was only temporary.

A moment of bliss so delightful, it was beginning to stitch the pieces back together.

Distractions could only last for so long even good ones. You found yourself back in the reality of your sadness as the silence lapsed between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward but you knew you still had to talk to the one person that cared for you better than did sometimes and vice versa.

You both were resting with your backs against the headboard of the bed, settling down for the remainder of the evening. Your upper body was half laying on his broad chest and head was resting against right in the crook of his neck. Your fingers were tracing circles on his bare torso mindlessly, mind away in the abyss.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hmm?” His hot breath whispers in your ear, lips pressing to your temple.

“Too much. It’s like my brain is a broken record and there’s no silence. I can’t shut off the thoughts and it’s clouding my thinking. Everything feels heavy and meaningless. Everything is the same day in and out. Life is passing by and I'm stuck in the middle watching it flash across my eyes.

The fear sets in like a weight in my stomach. It tenses my body and makes it hard to breath, to focus. It sets in first thing as I wake and lasts until it's time to go to bed. I can’t catch a break from it. It’s been hard trying to go to sleep, I feel fatigued all the time.

The weight of existence is swallowing me back down to the depths of Hell. When I close my eyes at night all I can see is this darkness. I’m in our house and running away from this shadow that keeps chasing me. It always finds me no matter where I run or hide. When I call out or try to find you, you never come. It always ends that same, with the shadow coming to swallow me but I wake before it ever can.”

The hot tears come back, falling against his chest as he listens to your inner monologue. The deepest part of who you were, on display for him to nurture with endearment. Your thoughts never scared him because of the life he lived through. Every time he held your fragile and aching body with heart wrenching sobs into his body in moments like this, frightened him. Distressed him to know that you were hurting this deeply. That you were carrying this alone and he hadn’t noticed.

You were the sweetest of souls and free spirited. You were smart and a hard worker. When he first met you, he knew that you would be sticking around for a while. Once he fell in love with you, it was over for him. You were everything he wanted and more. He did his best to please you and give you everything you wanted. You were the most beautiful woman he laid eyes on. He wanted to have children with you in the future. He wanted old and gray with you.

“Love, it’s okay I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. I’m always going to find you. I’m always going to protect you and will never let anything happen to you. I’ll always save you.”

He holds you close as you continue to cry.

“Love, calm down. Let’s breathe or you’re going to make yourself sick.” He lifts your head, his heart aching more at the sight or your dreary face.

Once he manages to get you to breathe at a normal pace. He gets to make his way to the bathroom. Returns after a minute with a warm rag to wet your face and a cup of water to drink. As you sip the water he wipes your face with the warm cloth. The water quenches your throat and the warmth from the cloth soothes your body while your husband soothes your mind with his affectionate actions.

For that you were grateful. Grateful for a man like Thomas Shelby despite his flaws, that he too even loved you despite yours. He was charming and funny in private when it was just the two of you. He always knew how to get your attention in the softest way and would do anything to see you smile. You held the moon, the stars, and the whole universe in your being for him.

Grateful that a man like Thomas Shelby understood sadness, grief, and the horror of what it felt like to not be able to escape from your dark thoughts. The thoughts that get stuck like leaves in the gutter, waiting to be cleaned out, or it can’t make way for the next rainfall.

He would know how to stitch you back together. It was in those moments of unraveling the strings that held you so tight together, would untangle and pull you closer to him.

“What do you want me to do to help you? I’ll do anything you want. Take time off work, you can quit your job and get a new one. We can go spend time away from town and go on a trip. I want you to know that I want you to be happy and I'll do anything in my power to help you get there.

Don’t listen to the negative voices in your head, love, does you no good. Think of all the amazing things you are. You are an excellent wife and help the company greatly. You are confident at your job and work twice as hard as me. You’re a heartfelt daughter and aunt. Watching with the nephews and nieces makes me know you’re going to be a wonderful mother.

You’re the love of my life. I love you so much, wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you weren’t here. I want old and gray with you, but we need to have some kids first.” His big warm palms hold your face, caressing your cheeks with his fingers.

“Thank you Tommy. I love you so much.” Your lips press against his chaste and slow moving in sync as your noses would bump slightly with minor movements.

“There will be better days ahead love, I promise. When you close your eyes dream of me. I’ll come save you. I’ll be here when you wake up, I'm all yours until further notice.” His lips pressed against yours for the final time that night, as the lights were off. He was on his side holding you to his chest, as your body mirrored his as you laid your head on his chest, his arms holding your back.

You knew in that moment, you didn’t need to say anything. He knew you and your heart for all that it was worth. He would come and help you water your plants as many times as you needed help. He would help you build your garden back until you were blooming yet again.

He was your lifeline, that came to save you time and time again. You would do the same for him. Your love for another ran deep, deeper than both you admitted aloud sometimes. Both being able to tell through little actions and thoughts that would occur daily, he was your livewire.

As your eyes closed you dreamed about something good for a first time in a long time. It was as vivid as a fresh painting on a warm spring day. It was a flash forward of your life. Of being with Tommy, having children, and being old and gray together.

You slept in peace of knowing there were going to be better days ahead.

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cloudy-leonhart · 4 years

Text

Independent Together (PART 2)

[Authors Note: it kinda took me a bit of time to write the second part, I didn’t like the first time I wrote it so I remade it lol.]

[Summary: A month had passed by since the incident, the survey corps seemed so different since then, waking up in pain, Reader woke up just in time, as the survey corps comes back from an expedition.]

Pairings: Poly!Hanji, Poly!Miche, Poly!Erwin, Poly!Levi, Poly!Nanaba x Reader.

Theme: Angst/Fluff.

TW: Swearing, Reader was in a coma, for a bit.

Recommended Song: If The World Was Ending - JP Saxe, Julia Michaels.

part 1 here!

[gif rightfully belongs to owner.]

It’s been a month. One month, you were still asleep, one month since the incident, there wasn’t a day where one of your lovers weren’t by your side, Levi held your hand and fed you food, he doesn’t consider the mixed mush food much but he fed it to you anyway, so you didn’t starve in your sleep.

Erwin came to check on you late at night, he would do his work by your bedside, holding your hand in one hand and reading his work in the other. Whenever he had the free time, he would come and visit you, he did his best to make you comfortable, even if you didn’t know it.

Nanaba and Mike used to go together until they decided they want time alone with you. Nanaba would come in every time they had meals, everyday, for a month, she had her meals with you and only you, while you laid healing, she told you stories about how amazing her day went, or how much she misses your hugs and your comforting kisses.

Mike would come and see you whenever he can, he would bring flowers that would remind him what you smelled like, he holds your hand and places soft kisses on it, he stays quiet during the whole thing, sometimes sleeping beside you. He wonders when you’ll wake up all the time, he asks the nurses for any update, whether that’s you waking up or you moving for a millisecond in your sleep.

Hanji comes almost every fifteen minutes, the nurses have to kick them out sometimes, everyday like Nanaba, they would share stories about their discoveries, it can be something as small as a new flower, or a new habit of titans, Moblit did think it was a bit weird seeing Hanji being in your room rather than doing some of their crazy experiments.

Although they have one thing in common and that’s wondering if you’ll ever wake up, no matter how many times Levi comes and feeds you or Nanaba washes you with a rag or just make sure you’re healthy, it seemed like you were never going to wake up, it scares all of them, they held their expedition as far as they could, knowing that the higher-ups would be angry at them, but they couldn’t help but be selfish for once.

The sleepless nights with the whole group, Hanji would sleep in Levi’s quarters or Erwin’s because you weren’t there to cuddle with them anymore, Levi always grabs two teacups instead of one until he realizes that you didn’t brew tea like you did for him every morning and his mood is ruined after. Erwin can’t do his work properly without reminiscing how you would give him back hugs and snuggle your face into the crook of his neck.

Mike and Nanaba would always be together because Nanaba couldn’t spend twenty minutes away from you without crying. They were trying their best to be strong and set an example for their cadets, but with every day you were unconscious, the more they break, every cadet could see it and they too, felt bad about how restless their superiors looked.

---

It was another day, you’ve been stuck in a black abyss for what seems like forever, you couldn’t open your eyes, you couldn’t move your body. You listened in your little head while every one of your lovers talked to you. You tried hard to wake up and tell them you’re okay, but you gave up and let yourself rest, maybe if you let yourself rest you’ll be able to move as soon as your body’s got the energy.

So everyday for a month, you listened to the stories of Hanji and Nanaba, you listened to Levi’s scoldings, you listened to Erwin’s pleas for advice on what to do, you listened to Mike’s quiet smooches on your hand.

You were a little bit curious on why any of your lovers were yet to come and visit you, it was uncomfortably silent, you were sure that breakfast was almost finished and Nanaba was yet to come and tell her about any stories, you felt your hand twitch, you realized your body was waking up and you tried your best, to get up as fast as you could.

“ngh..” A sound came out from your mouth, a nurse who was on shift, taking care of you looked over to her side, to see you awake and coughing, she froze for a moment before helping you sit up, seeing you struggle to get up from the frigid mattress used by the infirmary. “Miss Reader! You..You’re awake?” The nurse exclaimed, her tone sounded like she was questioning. “What..What’s going on?” You squinted your eyes, the morning light stung your eyes as a headache pounded over and over again.

You covered your eyes as the nurse checked up on your status, seeing if anything looked out of the ordinary. “I’ll bring you some breakfast, please don’t leave your bed,” She took hold of a metal bowl, rags were in it, you assumed it was used to wash you, “You haven’t left bed in a month and I’m sure your legs won’t be able to carry you after not moving a while.”

You didn’t bother to nod at the nurses warning as you laid back down, your headache to overbearing and the light stung your eyes too much, you covered your eyes with your arm, wincing at the sound of the door slamming shut.

You waited for a good thirty minutes, before a nurse came back in with a tray of food, you sat up painfully as the nurse placed the tray on your lap, greeting you goodbye and leaving the infirmary to give you privacy. You didn’t miss the tasteless soup, but the bread was edible.

You sat in your bed all morning, finishing your breakfast portion by portion, reading a book Levi left from his night shift, you were pretty bored without your lovers, you wonder how worried your lovers are, not knowing whether they’d see your happy smile again or even as such as a glance from your beautiful eyes.

A bunch of muffled hooves galloping broke you out of your thoughts, you looked out of your window, squinting for a few seconds, you recognized your lovers’ horses. You felt your heart quicken, you saw from the dirty fogged window, Hanji’s blurred face, you could tell that they seemed tired, they weren’t as bubbly as normal and that worried you.

You saw someone walk up to them, Levi you thought, his height was unfortunately the first detail you managed to identify about them. You watched as Levi helped Hanji down, you didn’t bother to continue watching as you wanted to feel your lovers’ arms around you again. You stood up from your bed, your long night-gown fell off the bed like a waterfall, following your actions, you felt your legs become wobbly, which you held onto the bedside table to stabilize yourself.

“Miss Reader! Please go back to bed, you’re still weak!” The nurse scolded, seeing you get up from bed, you looked over to the nurse with a pleading expression, “I know, just let me see them, I haven’t seen them in so long.” The nurse opened her mouth to protest before closing it and sighing, she reached a hand beside her, it emerged with a pair of crutches in her hands. “Let’s go, Miss Reader.” Her voice was motherly as she helped you on the crutches.

You quickly grabbed the crutches, you felt way better shifting your weight from foot to foot while walking out of the infirmary, your nurse beside you to give your additional support just in case. You limped as fast as you could to the nearest exit that lead to the outside of the headquarters.

You felt your heartbeat fasten with every step, you missed your lovers so much, you couldn’t fight with your excitement as you come closer and closer with the exit, you begged that they would bust into the building, as if a god answered your pleas, it opened, Eren showed himself, aside him Armin and Mikasa, who was mumbling a storm. Eren looked to the side of him to see you, frozen mid-limp.

“Reader?” He said out loud, Mikasa and Armin looked over to where Eren gazed, “Oh my god!” the trio ran towards you as you braced yourself for the impact, you felt three pairs of arms hug your body, as you winced with how tight Mikasa’s hold on you was. “Reader, the superiors was so worried about you! We thought you’d never wake up,” Armin cried out, “It was so quiet without you.” Mikasa mumbled out, a worried tone in her voice.

“I’m awake now, right? I thought you’d be relieved since there would be no one to help Hanji capture Eren for their experiments.” You laughed, which turned into coughing as the trio still looked at you worriedly. “Oi, Eren, where the fuck are you, did you forget you had cleaning du-” A familiar voice called out, you turned your head towards the voice, your eyes made contact with the cold, steel-like blue-grey eyes you fell in love with.

“Levi..” You called out, you felt tears start to form in your eyes as he just stood shocked, you were there, standing, you were blinking, breathing. You were alive. He felt overwhelmed, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, Hanji walked in after him, they looked confused as they just stared at Levi’s shocked expression. “Levi?-” Levi pushed through Hanji and stomped towards you, you felt yourself sweat out of worry, he stopped in front of you and lettng out staggered breaths, “I..was so..worried, idiot.” His voice was breathy, as he pulled you in his arms.

The sound of your crutches dropping to the floor made Hanji turn around, they too froze, they watched as you and Levi dropped to the floor with a thud. They felt themselves tear up with you, they couldn’t keep their emotions in, they yelled out, “Reader!!” They cried out, running towards you and Levi, joining into your hug. You laughed through your tears as you nuzzled yourself tighter into Levi’s and Hanji’s arms, you could smell their scents, Hanji smelt like oranges and peonies, a hint of cleaning products, probably from their lab.

Levi smelt like black tea and the smell of soap, you expected it as you scrunched up his shirt in your hand. You could feel Hanji’s tears dropping into your hair, you could feel levi’s hand tightening their grip around your hair. “We missed you so much,” Hanji’s voice was muffled, it was broken and hiccups accompanied their sentence.

“Mike! Erwin! Nanaba!” Hanji yelled out as you stayed quiet, trying your best to enjoy the embrace Levi and Hanji’s providing you. “Hanji?! What’s wrong?” Erwin’s voice called out, worry laced in his voice, getting closer. “She’s awake! Reader’s awake!” Hanji’s voice broke into joyous sobs as they continued hugging you, you half-laughed as you pulled away from Levi’s neck. You felt your tears stream down your face.

You heard the loud running of the rest of your lovers, Nanaba burst in first, she stopped at the door, panting as their eyes made contact with your teary ones. “Holy..crap. You idiot!!” Nanaba yelled out, not bothering to keep her emotions in as she sobbed, running straight for you, Levi and Hanji backed to the side to not get caught into her tackle towards you.

You let out a yelp as you and Nanaba collided and fell to the ground. She sobbed in your shouders, holding your waist tightly. You held onto her back as she shed her tears onto your night-gown, you didn’t care though, you were just happy you could hold onto Nanaba once again.

You looked up from Nanaba’s neck, you glanced at Mike and Erwin who let out a sigh of relief as they kneeled right in front of you and Nanaba, you chuckled softly, pulling Mike to the hug and urging Erwin to join.

“I’m sorry for leaving you guys for so long, you look miserable without me.” You laughed out, as they laughed with you. Armin pulled Mikasa and Eren away to give you guys a moment to reconnect and just be with each other. Erwin and Mike helped you up as Levi grabbed you crutches and held onto it. Your lovers led you to a bench and sat you down as they bombarded you with thoughts of worry and love, happiness.

“You don’t know how lonely we were without you, Reader.” Erwin sighed out, holding your hand tightly as you chuckled weakly, “lonely? I would’ve swore Hanji would’ve been able to bug you as much I did.” Hanji whined at the mention of their name, the vets knew they were supposed to be in their offices doing their work, but you were awake! How could they just greet you and go?

Nanaba let out louder and happier cries as she hugged you tighter, you smiled and patted her head, “There, there, Nanaba. I’m here now so stop crying, or you’re going to dehydrate yourself.” You scolded with a playful tone as you ran your fingers through her hair.

“We’re just,” Nanaba let out a sniffle, “we’re just really happy to see you awake again, it was so agonizing when you weren’t here to respond to me and Hanji’s stories, or when Erwin would—“ a hand covered Nanaba’s mouth, “Okay, that’s enough. I think Reader gets the point.” Erwin tried to save himself from embarrassment.

In which you did honour, by not telling them you heard all of them in your sleep.

“You better bet your ass, you’re never leaving our sights again after this.” Levi called out, leaning against the wall. You sighed softly before putting a smile on, “Reasonable.”

“We’re happy to see you awake and up again, Reader. We love you so much.” Mike kissed the top of your head, getting a slight whiff of your hair, which surprisingly smelled fine even though you haven’t taken a proper shower in a month.

You felt your cheeks heat up a small bit, you held onto Nanaba’s hand as she argued about how disgusting it was for Erwin to put his hand on her mouth, just after an expedition.

You leaned your hair onto Hanji’s shoulder before finally letting your eyes rest a bit, just enjoying your reunion with your lovers once more, finally you mumbled out,

“I love you guys too.”

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