Skyrim One-Shots

Brynjolf x Reader ~The Job(2)~

The instant the door to the inn room closed Brynjolf was on you like a hound, suspicious and confused. His eyes narrowed, his lips were kept in a firm line.

You rolled your eyes, kicking off your shoes and tugging off your light armor. "I didn't betray the guild- that was my father."

He recoiled, "I thought your father was dead."

"I did too," you mutter, ripping the straps of your armor open and letting the dark leather fall to the ground. You were left in a tunic and trousers, though the tunic was mostly see-through.

The thief sighed, shaking his head and quietly getting his own armor off in a much more graceful manner. You situated yourself on the doubt bed of the room, tucking into the wood of the wall and curling up into the blankets.

You wanted this day to be over. You wanted this day to never happen.

Honestly, you were so pumped with adrenaline when you were talking to the Jarl you sounded like a damn skooma addict thinking back on it.

Words of confusion, questions of anger, and growling remarks circled in your thoughts, but you did not let them out. The bed dipped behind you, and the sensation of Brynjolf's chest on your back soon followed. An arm draped around your waist, the man sinfully warm as he always was.

"You want to talk about it?" he questioned quietly.

You clenched your eyes shut. "I don't know. I don't know about any of it."

"Who is he- your father?"

"The Jarl," you hissed, "the fucking Ulfric Stormcloak himself. Explains why he never claimed me as his own- would've gotten us both killed, but still."

"He asked about your mother, didn't he?"

You didn't respond, and that was answer enough.

The long sigh that came from Brynjolf was one you knew all too well. He was preparing for a long speech about how you can't mourn the dead all your life and how they'd wish you to be happy even still.

You stopped him before he started with a quick voice and watering eyes. "Gallus was the only parent figure you had, Brynjolf, and even then you mostly taught yourself. Don't give me shit on how you 'understand how I feel' because you don't. You never will, and that's fine. Everything's fucking fine."

"Anytime you say those three words, ____, nothing is fine," he pointed out.

"I just- don't talk about it. This... If this is true, then in a few years, I'm going to be out of your life anyway," you mutter scathingly. "I don't fancy thinking about it."

He stiffened. "What?"

"Brynjolf," you warn.

"I do not want you out of my life," he stated with a growl, "I want you by my side and only my side."

"Brynjolf."

"You're everything I've ever wanted, dammit, I'm not-"

"Brynjolf, I appreciate the reassurances, but I'm next to seeming touched and you aren't helping," you interrupted sharply.

"I'm not letting you go, ____!"

"Okay, that's great, now shut your fucking mouth and go to bed," you growl.

"But-"

"Brynjolf, my dearest companion, you need to shut up and sleep before I decide to cut your tongue out."

Nothing but a quiet, unpleased grumble left his throat as he repositioned himself under the blankets.

You rolled your eyes and flipped yourself around, laying a weary mind to rest as you tried to escape the raging thoughts chipping at your well-being.

He let your head tuck under his chin and your breath fan against his chest, a frown of concern etched on his face. Eventually, he knew, you would break and tell him what really happened, but for now, he'd have to wait.

Brynjolf, as patient as he was, didn't think he could wait 'til he was on his death bed. For once, he knew you would not tell him a thing.

It worried him.

Greatly.

And yet, you seemed to be able to brush it aside like all the other hardships of your life after a minor argument and sweep it under the rug. He didn't know if you were genuinely okay or just bottling it all up.

That was what scared him the most.

You were always a superb actor, blending seamlessly into entirely different people as if their characteristics were truly you. Even if you had the same skin, the same hair, the same look in your eyes, he would barely be able to believe it was you whenever you'd slip into that mode of self-protection.

And he knew you were doing it now.

He only hoped you could get back out of it come morning.

~~~~~~

A shortie, I know, but thanks for the requests for a part 2!

I had some trouble writing this chapter because I didn't know what to do, but whatevs. we're all coolio here bros.

That was disgusting.

Okay, requests?

Also, also, I found a really sad song so y'all should listen to it ***ONLY IF YOU DON'T HAVE LITERAL DEPRESSION BECAUSE IT'S SAD*** the ballad of Danny Flint on youtube. It has an orangey thumbnail with a dude on it in a cloak, and makes me cry lol

And I burnt my tongue twice on my dinner today so like I'm in the mood for tears.

jk crying not good

watch game of thrones and cry tho

not sponsored

Dani out,

Adieu!