#He looks like he'd be uncomfortable with a woman wearing jeans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reyski · 2 years

Note

could I get armin x reader where they both have crushes on eachother and eren and jean tease them about it? maybe a confession scene? if not thats fine, make sure you drink water and sleep and all that

i’m on a bit of an armin kick so i thought id do this just for kicks. also sorry if you dont like fics with drug use, but i think its incredibly hot.

pairing: armin x reader (post timeskip media: attack on titan content warnings: drinking, joint smoking note: gender neutral reader!!

it was a little hard to admit to yourself that you had a crush on armin. you had met through mutual friends (eren) a couple years ago, and even then you were quick to dismiss the little butterflies you felt when he would sit close to you, or say your name. but after a couple months of secretly pining you decided it would be best to admit it, at least to yourself.

a normally smart person, it was entirely too embarrassing how you would trip and fumble over your words when you were around him. letting out nervous laughs, and trying to play off your mistakes was becoming increasingly annoying. and after your friend's weekly hangouts you were bombarded with texts from eren and jean with texts to "just fucking admit it already" and "jesus christ he probably already knows". but every time you thought about asking armin to talk in private, and confessing your little crush your hands shook and your chest became tight just thinking about how he would react.

why would you risk your friendship with armin over a stupid crush that would probably just end in shambles? jean always told you that you had nothing to worry about, and that even if armin turned you down you would always be friends. but you knew that it would be different, not something that your friendship could just bounce back from.

after class one day you and eren, who had been working on a sociology paper in the library, were sitting waiting for lunch that you had just ordered.

"come on you know he'd probably faint if you told him you like him, right?" eren prompted.

"yeah yeah yeah, as if your little conjecture about what armin 'would do' is gonna get me to fold" you retorted, making eren give you a disgruntled look. his lips curving down into a small frown.

"well you're never gonna get anywhere with that attitude"

"im not trying to get anywhere, just leave it alone" another annoyed look was shot your way.

"fine. but if i go crazy waiting for one of you to make a move it's on you" eren said finally relinquishing after the number on his receipt was called by the woman behind the counter.

"fine" you said to yourself quietly as he walked away to pick up the food.

the next couple of days you spent with your mind crowded by the idea of armin possibly mirroring your desire. every time you tried to sit down and work on an assignment questions flooded your brain. you tried to weigh out the pros and cons of confessing, but ultimately it made no difference in your plight.

suddenly it was a couple hours before you were going over to jean's house to see everyone and you were staring at nearly your entire closet thrown around your room.

‘ugh fuck what am i doing, it's not like anyone's taking notes on what i’m wearing’ you noticed you were definitely thinking of armin when you said 'anyone' and groaned a second time, hating how much having a little crush could affect you.

finally picking up something off the floor and wiggling your way into it, fixing your now-tousled-hair and looking into the mirror once again.

‘eh good enough’ you said defeatedly, picking up your things and giving yourself one more once-over to make sure you weren't missing anything. your heart was beating uncomfortably after getting in your car.

after driving over to jean's you parked a block away and quickly walking up his driveway, noticing you were 20 minutes late.

‘shit im definitely getting flack for this’, you knocked on the door shouting a quick "open up!", and hearing shuffling coming towards the door followed by the jingling of the handle and a "jean how the hell do you unlock this thing" along with more shuffling.

when the door finally opened up you were greeted by the friendly faces of sasha and jean beaming at you. hearing a chorus of "hi"s as you walked in and set your stuff down. deliberately not looking around too much in fear of making eye contact with armin and giving yourself away.

"geez what took you so long, we’re almost through the first round" connie remarked as you turned around to say hi to everyone.

"oh wowww, did you save me one?" you asked, mildly joking to connie.

you felt a presence next to you and a small nudge on your shoulder, followed by the clearing of a throat.

"here, i saved mine too so you wouldn't feel too left out" armin said, handing you a can of whatever eren got his hands on this time, shooting you a small smile. you accepted it, returning the smile with a "oh thanks!", cracking open the tab and taking a small sip while observing your friends all going back to whatever they were talking about before you arrived.

you sat around and joked for a while, getting to the end of your can, and settling for whatever other shitty alcohol there was lying around. slowly becoming more inebriated by the minute, you resigned to sitting on the sofa listening to mikasa and sasha hash it out over a small argument, laughing along to the commotion.

the alcohol in your system had dulled any previous worries about armin, so immersed in the conversation that you almost forgot about it until he sat down next to you.

feeling the sofa dip you looked over, "oh hey, hows it going" you asked.

"im ok, just needed a break from eren and connie. too much energy" he said slowly, also obviously feeling the effects of the alcohol.

"you dont say? god i would have never guessed" you joked. armin cracked a smile and let out a small chuckle at your sarcasm.

a bit of silence between the two of you before he leaned over and whispered for you to follow him over to the kitchen. you gave him a quizzical look and slowly stood up to follow him where he was headed. as you rounded the corner into the kitchen you saw him leaning over to pull something out of his backpack, turned so you couldn’t see exactly what he was getting. looking over your shoulder to see what was happening out in the main room you noticed everyone carrying on, not noticing your sudden absence.

“ok lets go” armin said turning around with a joint sitting in the palm of his hand.

raising your eyebrows you responded “oh i didn’t know we were smoking tonight, i would have brought my stuff”.

“dont worry about it, i just brought it incase anyone was interested” his eyes flickered to yours through his bangs and then back down to the joint.

“right right, should i go see who wants to join” you started turning towards the open door before armin made a ‘shhh’ sound and waved his hand towards you.

“i was thinking that we could just go alone, it’s not really that much anyways” he said, even though it was clearly untouched and enough to go around your group at least twice.

“oh! yeah sure lets go” you said quietly, heart just about jumping out of you, body trembling at the slight hint that he wanted to be alone with you. you shook your head a bit, trying to return to the present moment and not overthink it. he probably just wanted to get away from the commotion.

you walked together quietly through the back part of the house, reaching the backdoor. armin pulled it open and ushered you through, closing the door behind him. you both sat down on the small steps down to jean’s backyard. armin fished a lighter from his pants pockets, fumbling trying to find it, offering the joint in your direction, asking if you wanted the first hit. you took it out of his hand, placing between your fingers as armin held the lighter up allowing you to get it started.

the peaceful glow of the lighter spread across your faces, illuminating the darkness for a second before you leaned back and puffed out a cloud of smoke toward the empty yard, sighing in contentment. you handed the joint over, letting armin have a turn and letting the feeling of smoke in your lungs settle, relaxing a little more into your spot on the steps. quietly you passed it back and forth until it was just about gone, and the burn of the weed was almost intolerable.

“do you want to go back in?” armin asked after another moment, looking at you but not making any movements to get up.

“no, its nice out here, and besides if we go back in now they’ll be mad we smoked without them” you said in response, smiling a bit to yourself thinking about your friends and their antics.

“true” armin giggled “i just wanted to make sure you weren’t bored of me” he joked. your eyes widening.

“never! i don’t know why i’ve been so quiet lately, just thinking about things” you explained, looking at armin meekly. his eyebrows raising in question.

“thinking about what? you know i’m always here to talk” he sounded genuinely interested in what was troubling you.

“eh nothing, just life things you know? don’t worry about it” you dismissing his question knowing full well what exactly you were so worked up about.

“yeah i get it, life’s weird like that. sometimes i get so wrapped up in it i don’t know what to do with myself” you shot him a concerned look, turning a little more towards him.

“you want to tell me about it?” you asked, prompting armin to let out a laugh, his head falling back.

“hey! you cant just brush me off and then ask the exact same question to me” he smiled, and you felt yourself jump a bit at his beauty.

“i’m not brushing you off, its just hard to talk about”

“you want to try?”

“only if you tell me about yours too. otherwise i’m kind of getting the short end of the stick” you persuaded him, in a moment of bravery.

“oh gosh we wouldn’t want that” the sides of his eyes crinkled a bit, giving you the go ahead to start talking.

you felt the repercussions of your words coming back to you, not knowing whether to lie, make an excuse, or just tell him the truth. your heart started beating faster, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. small bits of sound came out of your mouth in an attempt to start talking but no words came out.

“i ... ah i don’t know its just...uh” you fumbled as armin looked intently at you, eyes gleaming in the most spectacular way, letting you know that he was listening.

“i think theres something wrong with me” you relinquished as armin’s gaze turned to worry.

“theres nothing wrong with you, you’re perfect” he said plainly, as if he hadn’t just frazzled you even more and given you the best compliment you’d ever received. you felt your face grow hotter, cheeks buzzing with heat.

“is that what you’ve been so worried about?” armin asked, mouth creating a small frown. you shook your head, not saying anything else.

a moment passed, you both sank back into the silence of the minute before. you turned your gaze to your lap, but could still feel armin looking at you. you felt him wanting to say something, but another moment passed with nothing said. there was definitely something different about this silence, it wasn’t as comfortable as the one before, and you could tell there was something hanging in the air. you felt the pressure building up inside you, feeling that maybe your comment made it awkward. in a moment of recklessness, and an attempt to break the silence, you slipped out,

“i think i might like you but i didn’t want to make things weird and i know you probably don’t like me back but now its already weird so i might as well tell you” breathing deeply, not looking over at armin who remained in silence. your cheeks somehow even hotter than they were before, and your whole body trembling.

another moment passed, and you finally decided to take a small peek over at armin. you slid your eyes to the side not moving your head, and he sat eyes wide open, and lips sightly parted in surprise (image). your eyes darted back down into your lap, already regretting your actions, and preparing to just get up and go back inside. your eyes burned in a tell-tale way, you shifted to get up.

a little tug on your arm “hey” you paused to see if he would say anything else, “i think...we feel the same way” he finished, and to both of your relief you turned back around and sat back down.

“you do?”

“yeah”

“thats good”

“hah, yeah” he chuckled, his own cheeks turning pink and his eyes shimmering in the minimal light. armin turned towards you,

“would you mind if i kissed you?” armin questioned “no pressure”. you turned away in the good kind of embarrassment, unintentionally smiling.

“please do”

yayyy lmk what you guys think!! i sincerely hope this isnt toooo gushy and cringy.

as always feed and water yourself! <33

#armin #armin x reader #armin x y/n #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #armin arlet #armin arlert #attack on titan #aot season 4

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blorbocedes · 1 year

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george wearing a collar you say……….

this has been bouncing around my head so thank you for letting me throw it out

cw: undernegotiated kink, bad etiquette, slightly dubcon... misunderstanding(?)

This sort of club isn't George's usual scene; considering it's at an abandoned warehouse with a password to get in. But it is exclusive, and George likes that about his clubs. It's no Soho House but something about a gated community just made George feel more... comfortable.

"What are you wearing?" His friend, Soph, laughed at him, whose dress code instruction was incredibly vague -- "dress edgy" and George did! He wore the only pair of ripped jeans he owned, his black pure silk Saint Laurent shirt with too many buttons open for a bit of edge, and a plain leather jacket. He even had his sunglasses hooked on his button hole, in case he needed it, for an indoors event.

Sure, it was a bit tame compared to the glitter, spikes, fishnets, and giant combat platform boots Soph had going on — who was going through a bit of a rebellious phase to hide George's and her parents sat on the same board and they holiday together in Greece. George felt a bit miffed, he's never been dress coded before.

"Wear this at least. They have a no shoes, no shorts, no tories policy." Soph fiddled around her own neck, while George rolled his eyes, wondering why he agreed to be dragged to this hippie socialist pied-à-terre in the first place.

"Crikey, is that a dog collar?!" George asks, as she places as black, leather collar fitted across his neck with little metal hoops all around the side — to be pulled from. He delicately fingers it, it's snug across his neck but will no doubt get uncomfortable and will be itching to take it off before the night ends. The weight of the collar makes him keep his neck arched, like a noble crane. It's all kinds of ridiculous, isn't it?

"Much better."

Sophia, have you brought me to a BDSM dungeon?George wants to ask incredulously. By the way everyone else is dressed, Soph is conservative by their measures. Dimly lit, red lighting, a small, intimate stage, rock music playing; and various meandering rooms. Mohawks, bright peacock-like hair, body modifications, George is pretty sure he sees a woman in a mesh bodysuit with nothing underneath and nine inch heels. The exposed concrete of the warehouse really added a sense of debauchery, people wouldn't be practically copulating against a Calacatta marble pillar. There's no coat-room either, incredibly middle class of it all. Toto, we're definitely not in Camden anymore.

Before George can complain, Soph has abandoned him to greet some friends and George, distinctly uncomfortable and not sure where to look, or if he's allowed to look, goes to the bar to calm his nerves. The bartender is intimidating, she has a slit in her eyebrow and ear gauges, tattoos all over, and chugs down whatever she hands him, burning his throat; sliding a £50 note to keep 'em coming.

"Sorry, mat- George?" A blond stranger bumps into George.

No, not a stranger. Alexander Albon. Alexander Albon who is blond now, in those leather jacket with spikes across the shoulder pad, a tight graphic tee stretched across his chest, and... eyeliner. He has black rimmed eyes, and a smattering of glitter across his cheekbone like he'd hugged a fairy. He looks good, he looks really good, and George hasn't seen Alex since he'd asked him out and Alex politely declined, saying they'd be better off as friends.

George dry swallows. "Alex." He drinks his horrible vodka concoction to not say something stupid, like, 'you're blond now?' or 'why didn't you accept my Instagram follow request?'

Alex takes a seat beside him, "I wouldn't have pegged you for a place like this." Alex's eyes drop to the collar George is wearing, which once again makes George all too aware of the constricting weight around his neck. "You always seemed a little..." Alex waves his hand, grinning, and George can mentally fill in the blank.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." George says defensively, crossing his legs.

"Drinks like a champ too." Their bartender vouched, and y'know what George always liked her and her scary body modifications, he decides.

"Full of surprises, huh, Georgie?" Alex's voice drops low, giving George the once over before settling on his neck once again. He's being flirted with, George confirms to himself dumbly, gorgeous fit Alexander Albon, who had previously stared blankly with a polite indifference to George's dinner invite, is now eyeing him with very much of that reciprocal interest. The alcohol buzzing through him doesn't help, this isn't how he courts; but it allows him to be braver -- seize the day, carpe diem, carte blanche, his French gets all muddled when he's tipsy. Alex's fingers trace the edge of his exposed knee in his ripped jeans that's knocking against George's, the ghost of a touch but full of intent.

"D' you wanna find out?"

To George's immeasurable disappointment, Alex doesn't whisk him away to a 3 course meal at a Michelin star resturant, La Gavroche if mummy's still friends with the head chef, and then a night at the Ritz -- he's not a prude, he puts out on the first date. Instead, they make their way closer to the stage where the band was playing, apparently Alex's friends, but it truly sounded like just noise. And George isn't entirely snobbish about his music, he's listened to The Smiths quite a bit. It's good to align politically with your favourite artists.

Thinking he spotted Soph and needing her womanly intuition if Albon totally wants to shag him, George means to beckon to her but instead finds himself squished between a number of bodies, all throwing themselves around in the mosh pit. He's too uncoordinated, the weight of everyone around him too strong to do anything but be swept in the wave, helpless, until he feels himself being pulled by his collar, choking him, and then a stronger pair of hands across his waist pulling him out.

"Got you. You were getting swallowed up there. Unless... you're into that?" Alex's breath is warm against George's ears, and he's so grateful; to be pulled out of the crowd, to be in his arms.

"I'm into whatever you're into." George wraps his arms around the back of Alex's neck, pulling him in closer, every touch between them electric. He definitely doesn't need Soph's opinion with the way Alex smiles wickedly, correct answer, ding! one point for George.

"Georgie, I never knew," Alex gasps, and he sounds giddy, kissing George against the bathroom stall door. "I really thought you were this," Alex shoves a knee between his legs, pushing down on his crotch, "'posh,' 'uptight', 'wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this' type." Alex laughs, punctuating each denigration with a kiss, biting down on his bottom lip, hard. "Really, when you asked me out I thought it was like, to croquet. Fuck, I wish I'd known then." He shakes his head in disbelief, his eyes so dark George can barely see the brown. George's expensive Raybans meet their death, falling to the floor somewhere, and he can't bring himself to care as long as Alex keeps touching him.

George finds out two things about Alexander: he's kind of an asshole, and it does nothing to hinder just how much George finds him devastatingly hot. He was also not wrong of his initial assumption of George as vanilla, the most sexually adventurous thing he'd ever done was have a girlfriend peg him. Alex's hand wraps around George's throat, above his collar, and presses down; choking him, as he grinds down on him. George tries to say his name, to ask to go back to the kissing -- horribly out of his depth here -- but his garbled voice comes out as a moan instead, putty in Alex's hands, making no resistance to push him off.

"Prim and proper George Russell, who likes getting choked out. Who would've thought?" Alex mistakes it for wanting more, but the reverent almost impressed voice makes George continue the ruse. It's not lying, he tells himself, just obfuscating the truth and letting Alex believe what he thinks.

"Can I blow you?" George asks, thinking quick. Alex can't call out his bluff that way, and George does an especially good job Alex will fall in love with him and their reservations for La Gavroche are back on.

Alex barely nods before George slides on his knees, bare knees hitting the fake concrete, due to his ripped jeans, thanks so much Soph. Alex is half hard as George unbuckles, which is flattering, and pulling Alex out... he's a nice length, a nice weight in George's hand who strokes it to full hardness, nothing unbearable about it -- completely inoffensive, George could pen poems about its pleasantness. He tentatively closes his mouth around the tip, hand on shaft, when Alex pulls him in by the back of his head, and shoves his dick all the way in his mouth, fucking his face.

Oh.

That's how they're doing this then. George has a gag reflex, and he chokes the first time Alex's dick hits the back of his throat; tears springing to his eyes as he pulled off to cough.

"Sorry, shit, should I--?" Alex asks — and George imagines Alex walking out on him, in the middle of an aborted blowjob, because he couldn't keep it together for five minutes. It's one thing if Alex never gave him a chance, it's another entirely if George blows his shot -- quite literally. With renewed determination, he goes back to working on Alex's cock, with a fervour until his hands find his way back to his hair, face-fucking him but with a more careful pace, to not fully hit the back of his throat. The few times George does gag, Alex lets him breathe before going back in, relentless.

"Fuck, I'm gonna--" he hears Alex groan from above him, his grip on George's hair loosening. Where is George going to spit, he wonders, knee uncomfortably jammed between the commode and makes the pragmatic decision to keep hollowing his cheeks and keeping as much of him in as Alex comes inside his mouth.

George thinks, bloody hell fuck it, and swallows. It's gross, but the vodka he had was grosser and the way Alex sounds when he says his name is so worth it.

Alex thumbs George's lips, swollen and spit soaked, hair a complete mess and tears prickling from the corner of his eyes. It's not a pretty sight, but Alex's hand cups the side of George's face, gentle, sliding down to his neck to pull at the collar's hoops, which feels branded on him. George feels thoroughly debauched, breathing hard, tenting in his jeans, his knees fucking ache, his jaw aches; all intangible proof of Alex all over him. He got it. He won.

Someone from outside the bathroom calls Alex's name, who turns around, tucking himself back in.

"You're sweet, George. This was fun. I'll text you, yeah?"

Later that morning, George assesses the damage done to this throat. Splotchy red indents from where the leather of the collar dug in, from where Alex's hands had been. A week of turtlenecks for him, then.

His phone buzzes a notification.

@.AlexAlbon is now following you!

#i wrote this really high so I'm not sure about the pacing and all #if any of it's bad just chalk it off to George it's his pov ok #galex #my fics #f1 rpf #read the cws before proceeding!#cw: under-negotiated kink #cw: dubcon #this is deeply self indulgent bc eye think characters should have bad sex more #blorbocedes ask #nobody's allowed to feel bad for George everything here he has brought upon himself

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bramblequill · 2 years

Text

No More Running: Chapter 6 - I Never Cry

TW! Talking of Suicide and Sexual Abuse (Not Graphically)

___________________________________________________

Eddie hadn't really had a crush per-say since seeing Lita Ford strap on a glossy black B.C. Rich just like his one and only Sweetheart. Her music wasn't really what he'd let anyone know he liked. A guilty pleasure he indulged in on the rare occasions he actually decided to clean his room. Like... actually clean it. All that being said being said because when he saw you step out of your trailer that morning... the sun barely peeking above the horizon, casting a golden glow across sparkling grass, he felt like the air had been knocked out of his very lungs.

Of course, he had seen that you were pretty the night before, but you had been so distraught he hadn't even dared to see you in THAT light. But now, here you were looking like a goddamn goddess as you bounced your way down the wooden steps and towards his van. You were completely covered and yet your clothes hung to your form in a way that just left bare minimum to the imagination. The exception being the jacket... THAT jacket that he'd seen you wearing the first time he saw you. Much like his favorite vest your jacket was a dark blue denim, faded in areas to a pale blue. Various band patches and artwork littered across the distressed fabric.

Underneath it you were dressed in black ripped skinny jeans, much like his own – fishnets stockings could be seen at the knees. Your top was a simple black t-shirt that had been shredded along the right hip and tied into little knots, allowing the fabric to pull tight against your skin, hugging your curves. Your hair was loose and wild across your shoulders, raven waves of soft curls. You wore a bare amount of eyeliner, and that was it. Picking his jaw up off of the ground he quickly opened the passenger door and held out his hand to help you in. He was always chivalrous in ways he could be. His Uncle had taught him that.

“Good morning Dio! You look nice today.” he said grinning ear to ear

“Thanks. Morning Eddie.” you smiled shyly as you slipped into the torn leather seat, stuffing your backpack on the van floor. He was suddenly glad that he had woken a little bit earlier to clean out the van a bit. It certainly would have been embarrassing to have you slide in and see the array of snack trash from 3 am munchie runs. Sometimes when he wouldn't sleep, he'd take his stash and grab some snacks and drive out to “Lover's Lake” and just sit, smoke, eat and try to let his mind slip away.

“You can pick a tape if you want, I may have something in there you'd like judging off your jacket. It's bad ass by the way... did you paint it yourself?” he popped open the glove compartment where all his tapes were housed and then leaned against the frame of the van awaiting your answer.

He watched as you plucked an Alice Cooper cassette from the glove box, turning it over in your hands and inspecting the song list. Uh oh. A woman after his own heart.

“Yeah, it took a pretty dammed long time to get it just right too. Is this, okay?” you held the cassette up Goes to Hell

“Shit yeah! That's one of my favorites!” he closed your door and quickly ran to the other side, hopping up and in and quickly turned it over, taking the cassette from you and sliding it into the radio he turned the tunes up only about half what he normally would so as not to make you feel like he didn't want to talk to you.

_________________________________________________________

Most of the ride had been fairly quiet minus the tape. He had noticed you tapping your fingers along and he had started playing air guitar for you anytime you guys would come to a stop sign which made you giggle. He had so many things he wanted to ask you about, but he just didn't want to make you uncomfortable or potentially bring up something unpleasant, especially so early in the morning. He had asked about who your teachers were and invited you to sit with them at lunch. You two had talked about the art on your jacket a little more.

He had learned that your mother was a brilliant artist. No doubt where you got the talent. He had learned that your favorite band of all time was Scorpions, but W.A.S.P. was a close second. He had learned that you wanted to learn how to play guitar like Lita Ford. That one had made his heart literally skip a beat, and he could have run off of the road right then and there picturing you holding his warlock in your hands, absolutely making love to the fret boards, hair wild as you head banged along to your own tunes. "Shit." He felt like he was losing his goddamned mind. He definitely wanted to make sure that happened.

You were quickly becoming a hyper-fixation and that was a problem. He barely knew you; you barely knew him. You were new and just needed friends. You didn't need some repeat senior being horny for you. You didn't need him dragging down your reputation. He knew you'd get labeled as a freak automatically by hanging around with him and the Hellfire misfits, but he also knew that you were going to get it anyways simply because you didn't dress like Molly Ringwald... so why not protect you however he could.

And God, that was brain rot. He wanted to protect you, more than anything else. You clearly had so much bad going on in your life, and with everything he had been through because of this shit show town, he knew what that was like. Even if the situations were so very different. Ever since last night when he'd found you in the woods a fire had sparked within him unlike any other, he'd ever experienced. He wanted to ask about last night too. He really wanted to make sure you were okay... but that he knew would have to wait for another time.

He had planned on you two arriving a little bit early, but not a whole ass 20 minutes early. Not that he minded, it just meant more time to spend with you right? He had come to the conclusion that even if nothing ever happened between you two, he definitely wanted to be your friend. Not entirely sure he deserved it, but he hoped for it.

“So, I play in a band. Guitar and Vocals” Eddie was drumming at the steering console “You should definitely come see us play next Tuesday, if you can I mean” he added now rubbing his face nervously “And uh... if you want a private show sometime, I'd be happy to play for you.”

You were staring at him and shit it made him nervous. He could feel his face turning into a tomato and he quickly pulled some of his wild mane in front of his face to help hide it, hoping you hadn't noticed. The grin he had been wearing since he picked you up hadn't slipped a single bit.

“Eddie are you asking the new girl out on a date?” your voice held no humor

A lump formed in Eddie's throat that he quickly tried to swallow down.

“Uh... well no... no not really? I uhh... just thought you'd like our music and would like to get out and see...”

You busted out laughing then, face absolutely alight with glee. “Chill Sunshine, I'm just teasing you. God your face... I need to add that to the list of things to do more often.”

Eddie nervously flicked his tongue across his lower lip before drawing it between his teeth and chewing. A habit he had been trying to break since his early teen days. He forced a chuckle, trying to not show how he'd been holding his breath just a moment ago, mind racing a thousand times a minute as he tried to figure out a way to respond that wouldn't scare you off but also ruin any future potential that could be built. He was attracted to you yes, but he also didn't think he deserved you, so he didn't have any plans to pursue you...but he also didn't want that completely taken off the table either.

A loud knock interrupted any further thought processes or conversations that could take place and sent both of you jumping out of your skins. Eddie spun around to see who the fuck..

“HENDERSON GOD DAMMIT! JESUS H. CHRIST!!” Eddie opened his van door, knowing there was no point in even trying to ignore the curly top.

The freshman stood there grinning ear to ear “GOOD MORNING!!! Are you gonna get out of your van and actually come to school today? Or... just sit there and... oh... hi?” He had spotted you.

Eddie groaned. He knew questions were going to FLY once you were out of sight. Even though he'd had a few hookups over his high school career, he'd never had an actual girlfriend. He had tried once and thought that he had found the girl of his dreams... but as it turns out, of course, she was just dared to date him.

She just wanted to see what kind of shit show his home was and if he actually was a Satan worshiping freak. Fucking Jason Carver had put her up to it. Paid her even. Yep, there was a name he wouldn't soon miss. He felt bad for Jason's family and even had turned up to pay his respects at the funeral (which also had been a mistake), but he couldn't help but be glad that that blonde fuck was gone.

Eddie sprung from the driver's seat, holding up his finger indicating Dustin to wait as he ran to the other side of the van to hurry and open your door for you, offering his hand to help. Dustin of course followed behind.

“This is Ronnie, she just moved in across from me. Be nice Henderson, or I'll make sure you don't get any good loot until I'm long gone from Hellfire.”

You flashed the freshman a smile “Hey.”

Dustin smiled back; he did that whenever he could now that his teeth had fully come in. It was a smile that conveyed kindness sure, but also absolute mischief. Eddie felt that little ball tightens up in his stomach again. “Please don't embarrass me Henderson.” Eddie thought to himself

“Hey! It's nice to actually met you! We saw you the other day on the road. Cool jacket by the way.” The warning bell rang.

“Shit. I better get to class. Okay. I'll see you at lunch!? Nice to meet you, Dustin!” Eddie watched as you rushed away from them, slinging your backpack over one shoulder.

Dustin slapped Eddie on the shoulder “Dude. Crushing on the new girl? Already?”

Eddie snapped his head around “Shut it Henderson” he growled, rubbing his face and wrapping an arm around himself in a hug. “Get to class.”

_____________________________________________________

The day had been uneventful, same shit just a different day. Lunch was here and Eddie squatted in his chair, lunch pail completely untouched as he scanned the lunchroom waiting for you to appear. “Finally! He stood up from his seat so you'd see him, not that you could have missed him with the way he was frantically waving.

“Hey Eds, Hey Dustin. Hello guys.” you smiled at the table

“Hey! About time you joined us. I was starting to think you were ditching without me.” Eddie grinned

“Nah Munson, we'll do that after lunch? Unless you got tests today?” you were staring straight at him, the weight of your gaze melting Eddie into a puddle in his chair

“Nope, no tests... I'm free as a bird.” Eddie stretched back in his chair extending his arms outwards and making wing gestures

You rolled those beautiful chocolate orbs at him, but grinned and laughed “It's a date then.” Eddies heart could have stopped. He knew you hadn't meant it, there was no way but...

_____________________________________________________

Lunch had gone off without a hitch and now the two of you were stealing down the halls leading out the side doors that next to no one used. The ones that led into the field that led into the back woods. You had made a pit stop at your locker, snatched your bag and the two of you ran, giggling. Eddie chased you across the football field and into the trees, laughing at you as you stumbled over branches in the unfamiliar terrain. He quickly pulled ahead of you and took the reins of leading, extending his elbow for you to loop yours through.

Now you sit side by side on top of the old rickety picnic table. You had been quiet for the past few moments, and it was starting to make Eddie a little worried. He kept stealing glances your way only to find you staring at your shoes or picking at your fingers or staring upwards at the trees.

“Alright Sweetheart, you, okay?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence "You went from giggles and a good time to... well I don't know. You're worrying me though."

“Yeah... I'm sorry. I was just thinking about last night.” Your voice barely above a whisper... there went cuticle picking again.

He had figured as much. “Hey. You have nothing to apologize for. Honestly, I've been thinking about last night too. I know it must have been embarrassing to be found in such a … vulnerable state by a complete stranger... but thank you for trusting me to be there for you.” Eddie nudged his shoulder against yours gently

“It felt really good to get that shit off of my chest... and it felt like since I didn't know you, it wouldn't hurt as bad if I scared you off with my crazy problems.” you were rubbing your hands over the arm that you had been cutting on; clearly a subconscious movement.

“Listen Sweetheart, we all have problems. I'm absolutely the last person to judge how someone handles everything they're going through. Truth be told, I've been through my fair share of shit... if I told you everything you probably wouldn't even believe half of it because it's so goddamn wild.”

“Me too. Eddie it's been so much. I don't know how the fuck I'm still here sometimes. I can't remember a time when I didn't cut myself up. I don't really understand why I do it, I just know that it helps me feel not so out of sync with my own life. I'm not proud of its Eddie. I wish I could stop, but sometimes my brain just goes on these high-speed train rides, and I can't find a station to get off at. Sometimes I'm a stranger in my own dammed head. I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, or told you all of that last night but... I think I'm glad that I just found someone that I CAN talk to. I've never had friends... not really.” It pained Eddie deeply to hear the sadness tinging your voice as your vocals shook. He knew you were trying not to cry. He slid off of the picnic table and sat on the bench to the side, pulling on the cuff of your jeans to indicate you to turn so he could meet your gaze.

“Listen to me pretty girl, are you listening?”

You simply nodded your head, moving one of your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around your leg, hugging yourself. Eddie really wanted to be the one to hug you in that moment, but he resisted, controlling himself. You needed to talk right now. That much was definitely clear.

“You can always talk to me. I promise I will always answer for you. My door. My window. My phone. Whatever you need, even when we're both long gone out of this shithole town. You don't know me well yet yeah sure, but I'm a man of my word, ask my friends. I'm not going anywhere, and I most certainly won't judge you for anything you tell me. If it helps, I'll even tell you some of the fucked-up shit about myself, not that I'm interesting at all. But we are friends now Dio. You're amazing from what I can tell so far. So incredibly smart, beautiful, and have a wicked sense of humor AND taste in music? Hello! You are stuck with me. Promise.” Eddie had braved and let himself rest his hand on the toe of your shoe.

As his eyes met yours, he hoped that you saw the absolute sincerity burning them bright. He meant it even more as he watched the tears start falling freely from yours. He didn't know why. He just knew that he would walk through the upside down again for you if that's what it took (and fuck he really didn't want to go there again.)

You quickly wiped your tears away and moving your hands so you could rest your chin on one palm, the other hand wrapping back around yourself as you nodded at him. Eyes still shining but no longer crying. “Can I tell you something? I've never told anyone this before.”

Eddie nodded “Of course you can Angel. I'd be happy to help carry your secret burdens.”

“Eddie, before we moved here. I tried to end it. I tried to end it all. I'd never gotten that far gone before but it was so fucking bad Eddie. He... he hurts me. My dad. I know you saw them. But that was the worst it's ever been. Eddie he... he...” he watched as fear gripped his chest and your head fell forward. You were using your hair as a curtain to hide from the world, hide from him. He knew that move very well as sometimes he did it too. “He raped me.” There it was. Ice hit his gut and flowed through every vein in his body. Eddie didn't even trust his voice in that moment, so he just put both hands on your shoes now. Not wanting to encroach your personal bubble but also wanting you to know he was still supporting you. He was still listening. The ice quickly turned to fiery anger, but he kept it pushed down. You had returned to wracking sobs. He waited for a moment, just rubbing his thumbs over your shoes, fingers wrapping a bit to touch your ankles

“Your father?” he asked simply... you nodded

“Yes. He's touched me before... when I was little, but I didn't know better than... but he was drunk... it wasn't him. It wasn't his fault.” your voice was so small. God. Eddie was so fucking angry. He wanted to go there now and just … just Vecna him. He felt sick. So very sick.

“Angel I'm so sorry...but it was completely his fault. Alcohol or not. That's not something fathers do...I mean I only had Wayne but... you didn't deserve that, and you did NOTHING wrong. Only He did.” He was trying to be careful with his words... he didn't want to upset you further but the anger he felt was also tinged with that familiar ball of anxiety. He didn't know how to handle this. He'd never had to before... he was doing his best and he hoped that it was just enough.

“I can't remember a time when I didn't want to be here anymore. I first noticed it when I was like...9... after the first time... but when you grow up constantly wishing for death, it just kind of becomes a common comfort in the back of your mind. You think of all the ways it could happen, what you could do to help it. You have moments where your fine and as happy as your broken brain lets you but then you'll slip and suddenly everything's dark again and you can't breathe. God you can't catch a breath. You try and try, and crying doesn't help, cutting doesn't satisfy. It hurts so bad you just wish for it to stop. But you're a coward. You can't end it. You're not brave enough... but you also can't begin to let yourself dream of the future. You just kind of resign yourself to a fate shrouded in darkness.” You were staring off into the trees, the crying had stopped but your voice was just kind of hollow as you spoke.

Eddie just sat quietly listening, he'd felt a little bit of that. He'd always struggled with anxiety and abandonment. He'd always wondered what he'd done wrong to make it, so his parents left him the ways they did. He knew his mom was sick... addiction was a sickness... but his dad... his father just didn't want to be a part of his life. He got it, as best as he could... but his trauma was nothing to yours. He stood up from his seat below you which drew your eyes back to him, snapping you back to the moment. He sat back up on the table beside you but turned towards you. You turned towards him as well.

“You were never part of my life plan Eddie. Dustin wasn't, Gareth, Jeff, Mike or Will. None of them. You have been so kind to me... you're incredible Eds. For the first time in my life, I think... this morning I woke up excited for the day. It's so fucking stupid because I literally JUST met you last night... but already you've given me so much more than I could ever ask for. That's so stupid and cheesy I know but I'm so thankful.”

“Doll, stop. It's not stupid. I'm happy to make you happy and I know my guys are too. Faces as pretty as yours shouldn't be streaked in tears all the time. Besides. It's not like you're proposing... now that would be too soon” he nudges at your shoulder lightly, trying to make you smile. It worked. It's small but you do smile, just a little bit. It barely travels to your eyes, but he'll take it.

“Can I hug you?” he asked

Your tiny smile turned into a larger one, and this one met your eyes making them shine like two amber stones lit with sunshine from within. “Yeah. Sure.”

He slid closer and wrapped his arms around your upper torso, smashing his face into your hair and yours into his shoulder. He felt your arms surround him back and he felt you relax in his arms.

That was the best feeling... feeling you physically just let go and surrender your pain into that healing circle. He reached a hand up and started petting the length of your long raven locks, humming a soft quiet tune that he hoped you wouldn't be able to pinpoint. He was trying not to think too hard in that moment on how soft it was under his fingers... or how you smelt like cinnamon and vanilla... or how perfectly you felt in his arms. “Too soon.” he silently told himself knowing full well that if this kept up... he was in trouble.

“Thank you, Eds.,” you whispered softly

“You don't have to thank me. I told you Babe. Absolutely any time. I have you.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 7

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thehandsresisthim · 3 years

Text

Taming Tenko - Part 1

Shigaraki Tomura I Shimura Tenko / Female Reader

Part 2 can be found here

Contains: sub shig, dom reader, low-key women-hating shig, college au, quirk less au, masturbation, shig nuts on readers scarf, cock stepping, shig humping against readers feet, humiliation, overstimulation, shig and reader are having fun playing pretend lol

"... and Shimura Tenko will work together.", the professor reads out. Tenko raises his head at the mention of his name, what was this about again- oh, yeah, the dumb project. He's annoyed just thinking about it. Who must he work with again? Maybe it would've been worth it to pay proper attention, but he's had a nice gaming session with a player living overseas last night and the difference in time zones was making him stay up was too late.

Some woman walks over to him - and promptly removes his back pack from the chair next to him, plopping down in its place.

Tenko just stares. If it was a guy, he'd probably say something, but although Tenko isn't very found of women, he often finds himself locking up when talking to one. Hopefully she'll leave soon, this is his last class today and he wants nothing but to go home.

"You're Shimura, right? It's nice to meet you. We'll be working together, I guess."

He just nods, and feels the sweat build up. He really wants to scratch at his neck, but he fears that he might make a fool of himself - and he knows that that'll just paint an even bigger target on his back.

Damn normies. Always pouncing on him just because he's not conventionally attractive - foids had it so much easier than men.

She'd probably make fun of him in her group of friends later on, Tenko wouldn't be surprised if she would spread more rumors. Things like that were one of the reasons why he hated getting close to others.

"That's good. My next class starts in a few minutes, so I have to go soon. Would it be okay to meet up on Friday? There's this Cafe, "Pink Cupcake" which serves really good coffee! And we could study there too. I'm free about 3pm, is that okay with you?"

Jesus, she was talkative. It was probably her gender, or she was trying to make up for how she uncomfortable he made her. That had to be it.

He quickly looks through his calendar, which his eyes had been staring at since she started the poor excuse of a conversation.

"I... It's good. I-I be... there, at the Cafe I mean-, yes it works out fine.", Tenko hates how much his voice wavers when he answers and how he struggles to find the proper words.

"Sounds great, see you then. Bye bye, Shimura." the female says and leaves. He hates how friendly she sounds. Females weren't friendly, he knew it. The bullying he had endured in the past proved this, in his mind.

Only when she's already gone he realizes that he never answered to her goodbye. 'Oh well,' Tenko thinks, 'females don't deserve attention like that.'

+++

Where the fuck was she? He had hurried all the way here, after putting in the effort of finding clean clothes for himself and showering, something he honestly rarely did.

The sign on the Cafe clearly read "pink cupcake" in ridiculously curly found. The interior was caked in pastels, with designs that reminded him of the rococo era.

He felt awfully out of place - he was wearing black jeans, a grey hoodie and old converse his sister had handed down to him.

She probably didn't intend on actually meeting him - she just wanted to humiliate him by making him look like he was stood up.

He feels the anger bubbling up. He put in all this effort, and this whore just ignores him?

He'll just leave. Fuck the pro-

"Shimura? Did you not see me? Come on, I preserved us a spot." he hears your still friendly voice.

Before he can react much, you have pulled him towards a big table. He can see a laptop, decorated with way too many stickers, and a few books.

"I already did some studying earlier on for a different subject. We can start now. Why don't you sit down?"

He follows your suggestion, and sits down on the white, wooden chair. The pillow is a light blue, and it pisses him off for some reason.

He takes out his tablet, and rests it on the table.

"Ok, so, here's everything that needs to be in our presentation. Do you think we could split it into parts, so that we both have different things to do?"

He nods, and throws a look at the instructions on the screen of his tablet.

"I... I'll do section one, three, four and five," he starts, immediately regretting his words. 'That came out way to bossy,' he scolds himself mentally.

'Not that I care about the comfort of some woman', he reminds himself in his head, 'I just want to ensure that she doesn't end up bullying me for being rude.'

"Sounds great. Your previous presentations have always been great, so I'm real happy to be working with you!" she answers.

'Why is she so friendly to me?' he complains in his head, 'dumb bimbo.'

'That sounded genuine,' a part of himself wonders before he can stop it.

+++

An hour later, both of you having had worked a good amount on the project, you decided to stop and meet up again next week - you had asked him for his number so that you both could text. Flustered, he had written it down and handed the paper to you. It had been the first time a woman had asked him for his number.

As Tenko walks out of the Cafe, he notices two things: firstly, you are walking in the same direction as him, and secondly, he didn't bring a jacket, and the cold air doesn't feel nice. 'Great', he thinks.

You walk right beside him, and he hates how okay he is with it. You both had talked a bit about all kinds of things - he had noticed you had a few games he also played on your laptop, and video games was one of the few things he could talk much about, so he asked about it. You had hit it off from there, noticing a similar taste in many things.

At first, it had bothered him that he had gotten along with a female, but you somehow managed to convince him you were genuine. He could say that he disliked you less than other females, at least.

As you continued to walk, Tenko slowly started trembling. It was really cold, and he found himself jealous of your scarf and warm-looking jacket.

Frustrated, he moved his hands deeper down into his hoodie.

"Are you cold, Shimura?" your voice questions. He glares at you. Why did you insist on being so concerned? Females weren't supposed to care about beta males like him.

"Y... yes, but it's fine." he says, but he still trembles, and you seem to notice.

You shake your head. Tenko freezes - that's it. She hates him now, he must've done something wrong, he'll get bullied again.

"Stay still for a moment, please," you instruct and before he can protest, he feels your warm fingers wrapping your scarf around him. 'It has been directly on her skin, and the warmth due to that is super comforting' he can't help but appreciate the gesture.

"Thank you." he says, and he means it.

'Holy fuck', Tenko remarks in his head, 'her fingers felt so good on my neck.' He'll definitely jerk off to the memory at home. And her smell... It's all over the scarf.

He's grateful that the Hoodie is long enough to cover his crotch - he doesn't want to show just how turned on he is.

The rest of the way home, he can't help but feel like he's in heaven.

As he enters the apartment, he quickly takes his shoes off and then immediately goes into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and locking it.

'Thank goodness I'm home', he thinks and rips of his pants and hoodie, immediately palming his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear.

His brain is flashing images through his mind: you finding out what a pervert he is, and deciding that he needs a punishment, you edging him until he breaks down crying, but still not letting him release, you stepping on his private parts, you keeping him on a leash and calling him mutt...

Tenko can no longer take it - he removes his boxers as well, and grabs your scarf in his lust-driven haze. He didn't think that taking part in a scene like this - pretending to be a little pervert that didn't know you beforehand after your professor had previously mentioned that you and him would be working together - would turn him on this much. "Fuck, mistress, please..."

Here's part two!

#Shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #Tomura shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x you #Shigaraki x y/n #Shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #Shigaraki Tomura smut #Bnha smut #Sub shigaraki #Sub shigaraki Tomura #Mha smut #Shigaraki Tomura #Shigaraki #Dom Reader

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readyplayerhobi · 3 years

Text

Flower | Drabble 5

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Another little drabble! It's hard to give this couple up 🥺 this is also a scene that was basically deleted from the main series, so it's been given a time jump! I didn't want people to think it was a cliche moment (it kinda is) but...I think this gives some good clarity on how the MC has grown! Unedited as on mobile.

"Do you think your mom will like this?" You query, brows farrowing together as you turn the elegantly decorated plant pot around in your hands. It would match her current living room decor and she loved gardening.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah...why?" Hoseok asks with a distracted tone, his attention grabbed with the collection of fake plants. The two of you had come to a home decoration store as you wanted to redecorate your bedroom. He wasn't hugely interested in how it was done and you were pretty sure that he was here just to spend time with you.

Which was sweet and you loved that he was content to just be with you, but he wasn't being very helpful right now.

"...her birthday? It's next week, we're taking her out for dinner, remember?" He pauses for a moment before his lips turn into a circle.

"Oh yeah, shit. I need to book the table for that." Before you can say anything else, he's pulling out his phone and tapping away on it.

Sighing, you place the pot into the cart and begin to look with an eye for your bedroom. You wanted to inject more plants into the house but Kasumi just tried to eat real ones, so you were stuck with fake plants.

"How about C'est Bonne? Wait no, she doesn't like French food. Hmmm, Italian feels boring though. Do you think she'd like Thai, I think that'd be alright." Hoseok is muttering to himself as he scrolls and you smile affectionately.

To say he'd completely forgotten, you weren't surprised that he was throwing himself into it now.

"Hoseok?" For a moment, neither of you respond. You, because it wasn't your name and so you weren't conditioned to respond to it, and Hoseok because it wasn't your voice.

His head jerked up in confusion, gaze going to you first before looking around. The voice calls again from your left and you turn to see who it is, wondering who was calling out your husband's name.

What you didn't expect is for Hoseok's face to open in surprise, shocked recognition taking over his expression. Like, real shock and you're even more confused and intrigued.

"Yoona?" He asks, his tone slightly unsure and you realise it's obviously someone he once knew. You've heard him mention the name at some point, but you can't remember why you know it.

"It is you! Oh my god, it's so good to see you. How long has it been?" The woman in question, Yoona, smiles brightly and you observe that she's pretty. Very pretty with the kind of hair you see in commercials.

She's wearing plain black jeans that conform to her legs alongside a subtly flowered shirt. Her black pea coat tops it off with a matching deep purple scarf and beanie to cope with the colder weather.

"Err...a while." Hoseok laughs, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck and you recognise the awkward movement. He's a little uncomfortable and your stomach turns as you wonder if this is one of his hook ups.

Surprisingly, you'd never met one of them given how prolific he'd been. Though you did wonder how many of them had also been drunk and probably didn't remember him at all.

Still, you feel the urge to comfort him and move closer, resting your hand on his back in assurance. He straightens a little at the touch before relaxing into you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder and hugging you into him a little more strongly than you'd anticipated.

"Oh, Meeps this is Yoona, the girl in college who got me to sort my shit out?" Hoseok's brows rise as his voice turns dry before he looks back at Yoona. "This is Y/N, my wife."

Her eyes flick over to you and surprisingly enough, she doesn't give you a once over. You almost expected her to view you as some kind of threat or rival, but the reassuring smile she gives makes you realise how silly that would be.

"Really? Oh my god, Hoseok! I'm so happy for you, and for you, Y/N! I always knew he had the makings of a good partner, even if he couldn't see it. I'm glad you finally took my advice." Yoona says before reaching out to shake your hand politely.

Surprisingly, it's not nearly as awkward as you'd think to meet one of your husband's ex-flings. Especially one who'd had such an influence on his life.

"Erm, thank you. Hoseok's talk about you sometimes, thank you for helping him back then." You say shyly, feeling your stomach twist uncertainly as you take your hand back and play with your fingers.

Just like he always has, Hoseok instinctively knows when you're not comfortable and he reaches for one of your hands.

"I've told her lots of things over the years," He grins before kissing your forehead. "My therapy was very good, I promise."

That's directed to Yoona who laughs sweetly and nods in appreciation.

"Good, good, I'm glad. Anyway, I've got to be going but...it was nice to see you! And I'm really happy that you've found someone. I'd love to get to know you better but I'm sure you're amazing. Gotta be to have captured this guy's attention." She smiles and gestures towards you, causing you to feel hot with embarrassment.

"Erm, thank you." You mutter, unsure of how to react. But you're surprisingly okay with her and don't feel any form of threat, even with her important history with Hoseok. It was clear there were no feelings between either of them and you genuinely felt that she was a good person.

Before either of you could say anything else, she said her goodbyes and headed towards the cashiers at the front of the store. There was a brief moment of silence as you both tried to compute what had happened and Hoseok recovered quicker than you did.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his words laced with concern that matched the worry in his eyes. You knew why he was feeling like that - Yoona was beautiful, once upon a time he'd slept with her and she'd helped him realise how to move forward. Or at least take the steps there.

If this had happened in the first year of your relationship then you probably would feel disconcerted, unsure what to think about this blast from his past. But you weren't that girl anymore, and whilst you still had your anxieties, you had full and complete faith in Hoseok.

Plus, he'd been as blindsided by her as you were.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was nice to finally meet the famous Yoona, she seemed nice." You comment, slipping your arm through his and leaning against him as you both walked towards the bedroom section. Bring so close to him meant that you could practically feel him relax at your words.

"Good, good. I didn't...well I didn't know what to think, really. I was worried you'd be upset or something." Hoseok admits, trailing his hand down your coat sleeve until he can grasp your fingers between his own.

"No, I know all about your history and it was only a matter of time before we met someone. And like I said, she was sweet." There's still some uneasiness in his demeanour though and you squeeze his hand before gently poking the back of it with a finger.

The movement makes him smile and you feel relief at him looking a little happier.

"Seriously, I'm okay. Are you okay?" It was probably a big thing to accidentally meet up with such an important fling, but but could understand why he wasn't comfortable with it all.

That was a part of his past that he wasn't entirely happy with colliding with his very happy present. So you just held on to him as he worked through his feelings.

"Yeah...yeah I am. It was just weird to see her, you know? Never expected that." He let's his free hand trail over a soft, velvet cushion idly and you hum in contemplation.

"I get it. But don't fret over it, okay? I'm fine with it all and...well, it was nice to meet the woman who helped to bring the Hoseok I know to life. Or at least, started the process. Without her, we wouldn't be here."

Hoseok is silent as he considers that, his lips twisting before he licks at his lip ring and nods.

"Yeah, you're right. She's the one part of my past that I'm okay with you seeing in person. I should've thanked her…" Muttering, he sighs before shrugging with a lopsided smile.

"Oh well, let's carry on shopping. Your decorations await! And I need to finish booking that table...I'm actually thinking of maybe trying that Lebanese place…"

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok drabble #hoseok fluff #hoseok fic #bts drabble #bts fluff

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

“ƁҽɑմեíƒմƖ Տեɾɑղցҽɾs.” ղ.ყ.ե.

Part of the Rockct! Collab I'm holding. Click here to check out the works of other amazing authors.

warnings: sex, drinking, cursing.

“You played so well tonight!” A horde of people, not older than 30, approached Yuta as soon as he jumped off the stage, red guitar still hanging from his shoulders. “Can I get an autograph?”

Getting asked for things like that was a sign that they were getting bigger, nonetheless, he wasn't a big fan of signing boobs or asses.

It's all for the greater good, Jaehyun would always say.

“Alright, guys. That's enough for the night.” He left behind a round of sighs as he approached the bar, asking the woman serving the drinks for a whiskey, straight.

“Right away, boss.” They already knew each other from previous gigs, even had shared some drinks outside of the stinky bar. He would've made a move on her if she hadn’t clarified she wasn't interested in him, or in any men for that matter.

His hand straightened the short hairs of the shaved side of his head. It was a new style the hairdresser suggested, and the audience seemed to like it almost as much as him.

“Can I have another beer, please?” The person sitting beside him asked in a funny accent that had his head turning to the side before he even realized.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave me away?” Your tone had a certain humor to it that your face couldn't quite match. Your lips were as straight as a ruler, as if they'd never curved into a smile. “Are you going to keep staring?”

“Sorry.” He smiled with his mouth wide open, revealing all of his pearly, straight teeth. “I’m a foreigner as well.”

“Well, a toast to the foreigners.” You raised the bottle of beer, proceeding to chug down the remaining of the amber-colored liquid.

Both of your drinks arrived, the barwoman sliding them your way and spilling some of it while doing so.

“Did you like the show?”

“I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention.”

“Ouch.” His face was plastered on posters all over the place, so naturally, you were aware he was part of the band that was playing only a few minutes before your encounter.

“Is that guitar part of the whole rocker fit?”

“Is that attitude part of the whole beautiful stranger concept?”

“Touché.” You dragged the bottle over your lips, letting the glass caress the delicate skin. “So you think I'm beautiful?”

“If I said yes, would that give me points?” His elbow was supported uncomfortably on the counter, showing off the muscle of his naked bicep.

“Perhaps.”

Interrupting at the worst timing, his band members walked up to ask him if he needed a ride home. Your flirty eyes almost looked as if they were challenging him to leave.

“I think I'll stay for a while longer.”

“Oh, will you, now?”

“Guess we’ll see you tomorrow...” They shrugged before leaving with their belongings in hands.

People started leaving quickly after that, the mood now dead with the absence of live music. But Yuta was far from wanting to leave, mesmerized with the aura that surrounded the stranger beneath him.

“What’s your name?”

“Let’s not do that.” Your bottle of beer was once again empty. “It’d ruin the vibe.”

“And what exactly is the vibe?” He asked, amused by your bizarre antics.

“Two strangers that pretend to be interested in each other so that they can have a good fuck.” Your sincerity took him aback, yet, he couldn't deny that the idea had crossed his mind once or twice.

“What makes you think I'm pretending?” Your face inched closer to his, lips ready to crash at his signal.

“Cause that's what they all do.” You whispered, the light breeze coming from your mouth crashing with his soft pillows.

“Let me prove you wrong.” He replied in the same tone. Your hands grabbed the nape of his neck, closing the distance between your lips.

“Go ahead. My hotel room is just across the street.”

“Lead the way.”

The bartender had insisted your drinks were on the house, allowing you to reach your hotel room faster. Even while the elevator ascended, he couldn't take his hands off you, admiring your body from behind through the mirror.

“Needy, much.” You snickered, hiding your face in his neck to pepper kisses all over the silky skin.

The elevator doors to your floor opened, forcing you to let go of each other while you walked to your room. You hurried to take out the card from your purse, quickly sliding it over the sensor to open the wooden door.

It was a small room, which is why it didn't take you long to find the soft comforter of your bed. Yuta was under you, your legs straddling his torso as you took off his sleeveless, denim jacket. There was a strange tattoo on his forearm, a detail you hadn't noticed before.

“Still not gonna tell me your name?” You smiled for the first time in the night, and Yuta could've sworn the room seemed more illuminated.

“We gotta keep the whole mysterious stranger concept, remember?” His hands rested just above the curve of your ass, too shy to move them any lower.

“You’re so annoying.” His lips curved into a smile, mimicking your own.

Your hands had already busied themselves lifting his shirt above his arms, his naked chest, now in display, lit by the dim moonlight coming in from your window.

“You seem to be the only one having fun here.” With a swift movement of his hips, the positions had changed. The new angle allowed him to see your face better, every single twitch of your eyebrows, he noticed. “What a beautiful stranger you are.”

As much as you wanted to deny it, a pleasant, warm feeling started bubbling up at the pit of your stomach. Without wasting another second, you threw your shirt somewhere in the bedroom. Your breasts were naked. How come he hadn't noticed you weren't wearing a bra?

“Don’t tell me you're having second thoughts.” He snapped out of it, hands quickly sliding up your torso, all the way to the small mountains that rose in your chest.

“No, just admiring the view.”

It was curious how comfortable you were around each other, almost as if you hadn't met only a couple of hours ago. The way his hands worked tortuously slow through your clothes had you squirming in desperation more than once.

“Don’t rush me.” He kept saying throughout the night, working his magic to find every sensitive spot in your body.

By the time you were both done, your bodies were hugging tightly to each other, fluids combining as your breaths slowly calmed down. He was the first to speak.

“I should be the one to leave tomorrow morning, right?” You hummed, not a single hint of sadness in your tone. “What if I don't want to?”

“Then I'll have to leave, though it would be weird since it's my room.”

“Then I'll have to hug you tightly so you can't escape.” You slapped his arm softly, hiding your face between his chiseled pecs.

“You’re ruining the concept.”

Sleepiness was washing over both of you, and before you knew it, you were into a deep slumber. Yuta kept his promise, holding you tightly from dusk till dawn. But not tightly enough, since you were gone once he opened his eyes.

With a bruised heart, he stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover his noble parts since there was no one to look. His mind ran through the possibility of waiting for you to come back, but the note left on the small nightstand made it clear you didn't want that.

-See you next time, Yuta.

There was something odd about the note, but he couldn't quite figure it out. It wasn't until he was walking back home, his hands tucked inside the front pockets of his jeans, he realized something. He pulled out the note, examining it to confirm his suspicions. You knew his name.

“Fuck you.” He muttered, grinning at your cleverness. Of course, you knew his name. Everyone at the club did. But you were careful enough not to show it, for it would mean you'd have to tell him your own.

He folded the note carefully and saved it back in his pocket. It was the only proof none of it was a product of his imagination, a mere dream caused by the drinks he'd had.

But he could do nothing about it, only wait until you decided to find him again.

“Until the next time, stranger.”

#nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct angst #nct yuta

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x trans reader #bakugou x trans male reader #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you #trans reader

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the-avengers-ate-my-tongue · 3 years

Text

The Storm

Summary: You work with Jack Crawford and Alana is your cousin, both of you live together for a long time. She gets caught up with a flat tire far away and asks you to let Will in, for he's expecting her. A storm is coming, and she keeps taking longer and longer to show up. Will the universe conspire in your favor?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, insinuation of smut, fluff.

Word count: 4.328

A/n: I'm starting to consider changing this tumblr for a Hannibal one, mostly Will Graham, so some requests from other fandoms would be nice haha hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing ♥️

*not my gif

There wasn't a thing such as a boring day at the BAU.

At least not when you're part of Jack Crawford's crew. There was always an interesting case to focus on, a disfigured body to study the reason of death, it was always a thrilling hunt for evidence. The best experience I've ever had so far in my career, and I could only thank my cousin Alana for putting me on the Guru's radar. I was a great crime scene investigator, albeit a little younger than people gave me credit for. I taught people not to underestimate me over the years, though. I got here by my own effort, being a tenacious, hard-working woman who wouldn't get a no for an answer.

I got along well with my crewmates, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, though our relationship hardly extended for life outside work. Except for Beverly, we went out for a couple of beers sometimes, she was fun, witty and I really liked our conversations. Jack was the big boss, and that was it. I had a lot of respect for him, and I knew he didn't regret bringing me to his team, I could see it in his eyes in the first case I've got. I was very cunning when I shared my insights about the cases, sometimes I saw things no one else could, no one but…

Of course, I was far, far away from being a Will Graham. But ever since I was younger, I've had this sort of intuition that helped me to solve problems, I would solve riddles easily and when people asked me how I got to the answer, I wouldn't know the steps, I just knew deep in my bones I was right. That happened a lot when I was growing up and was even stronger now that I knew how to use it. It was some artifice of my inconscient, something I could always count on. It included everything in my life, math, logical thinking, riddles. My brain picked things I couldn't perceive clearly, bringing them to the clear waters of my conscience.

Will Graham was a curious man. He intrigued me from the very first moment I saw him at the house of one of the last victims of The Minnesota Shrike, Garret Jacob Hobbs, now dead. He was practically hiding in a corner, his eyes closed behind the lens of his glasses, dark wavy hair, jawline for days. He seemed highly focused until Beverly started to talk to him, pulling him out of his daze. He could barely look at her, or at me, and although he looked socially awkward and troubled, he still managed to look like a daydream. I studied every inch of his face, lowering my gaze when he seemed to get uncomfortable, after smiling lightly. I was a bit shy myself. I lived with Alana and, when I got home that night, I absentmindedly asked her about that curious handsome man who seemed to be out of place, yet so connected to that scene. She started to talk about him, but stopped once she noticed my interest. Then, she told me he was a very unstable person, that she wouldn't even be alone in the room with him because of her professional curiosity. As time passed and he solved more and more cases, I could see how people looked at him like an attraction of the zoo. However, not me, and later, not Beverly. Brian didn't seem to like him very much, I could see. Envy, perhaps? Nevertheless, the more I saw Will, the more intrigued I got. He avoided eye contact like the plague, but as I was always friendly and tried my best to treat him like a normal person, not focusing only on work, dead bodies and serial killers, I saw more of those beautiful blue eyes. He knew I was Alana's cousin, and I sooner realized he had a fling for her.

And boy, did that break my silly little heart. I wasn't surprised, though. Who could blame him? Alana was amazing. I never felt resentful for that, but as time passed, I started to detach from the idea of Will being somewhat more than a simple acquaintance. That afternoon, I was going home from work when I got a call from Alana.

"Speak fast, I'm driving." I said, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other holding my phone.

"You're going home? Great. I invited Will so we could talk about a profile I'm building, but I got caught up here. I already spoke to him, he's almost there, can you let him in? He said he'll wait, and I'll be home in about fifty minutes, no more than that, hopefully." She said in a hurry, and I felt my cheeks burn a little. Will and me? Home alone?

"I…" I hesitated, chewing my bottom lip nervously. "You won't be long, right? Heard on the radio there’s a storm for later."

"I won't, promise. Just let him in, he's already aware I'll take a little longer to be there. See you soon. Thanks, Y/n!" She hung up, not leaving me any time to answer. I put the phone down, still chewing on my bottom lip. I could feel excitement rising on my stomach, making me feel slightly nauseated, and noticed my hands starting to sweat.

Please. That was ridiculous. What was I, a teenager? I was a grown-up, well-succeeded woman, for God's sake. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, driving a little faster than I usually did almost unconsciously. I got home after twenty minutes, parking outside the pretty house. Will was already there, leaning against his car, so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed I'd arrived. I looked at my reflection at the mirror hurriedly, fixing my hair, pinching my cheeks to look less pale, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers to make them look neat. I wasn't even wearing any lipstick today. It had been a long day at work.

I opened the car door, exiting the vehicle, the noise from shutting the door finally bringing him out of his daze, and he finally seemed to notice me. He smiled lightly, lowering his eyes. He had his glasses on, but as soon as he saw me, he took them off, hanging them on his shirt.

"Hey, Will. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. There was a little bit of traffic." I justified, walking to the porch and waiting for him to follow me.

"Y/n. Not at all, I just got here. Alana explained what happened, thanks for coming to let me in. Hope I didn't ruin any appointment you may have had." He waited until I unlocked the door, and we finally were engulfed with the warm air of the heater.

"Nope, I was coming home, no appointments lost. Please, come in. I'm not sure you've ever been here before, but make yourself home." I hung my trench coat, sighing with the pleasure of being home. I loved the atmosphere of that place. "Can I get you anything? Water, soda, beer…"

"Thank you. I'm fine. And no, I haven't been here before." I held back the temptation of saying "good", biting my bottom lip as I watched him sit on the couch. I just stood there for a while, not sure of what to do next.

He frowned a little, probably thinking why I was acting so weird, and that made me nervous, because it was just an easy step to realize my silly crush on him. Did he know? What if Alana said something? Said something? For fuck's sake, he was Will Graham, he could probably see that written across my stupid face! Shit, he knows. I'm making a fool of myself. Why do I even…

"Is everything okay?" His voice startled me a little, pulling me out of my neurotic breakdown, and I wondered how my facial expressions looked. Was I blinking only one eye like the stereotyped madness of cartoons? I certainly didn't look normal. I cleared my throat, laughing lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm not really used to having people over anymore. I've been working a lot lately. People are dying like flies." I sat on the armchair in front of him, sighing.

"What we do can be overwhelming sometimes. What we see every day. It just… stains you." He said, with a dark look on his serious eyes.

I nodded. I felt that way sometimes, but I was used to it. I stopped feeling that sense of inadequacy on my chest years ago.

"I guess you just begin to cope with it, though. Our brain adapts to that harsh reality. But it's always nice to vent somehow. What do you do in your free time?" I asked, wondering if I was getting too personal. Did I sound like I was probing to ask him out? I felt my face getting warm. Damn it.

Either he didn't realize, or he was just too chivalrous to point, but he didn't mention anything.

"I fish." He said, simply. I nodded with a light smile.

"And you play with your doggies." I pointed, smiling wider. I loved dogs. He'd mentioned them before, so I just brought the subject up, trying to shift the attention from me to them. Will smiled back, his eyes with a subtle glow. He really loved them, and that was so sweet. "Fishing sounds nice. Unfortunately, I could never. I'm too restless. I'd probably startle all the fish and wouldn't catch anything."

He laughed, and that was the first time I ever heard that sound coming out of him. I felt like I was someone deaf that was able to hear the sound of Mozart's symphonies for the first time, and I just knew. There was never detachment from the idea of Will being more than an acquaintance. It was tackled down inside my brain somewhere, for the brain tends to adapt to harsh realities, but it was still there, just waiting for some incentive.

"It's just a matter of training, getting used to it. I could teach you someday… if you want." He blinked a few times, as if he was surprised with his own boldness, smiling lightly. "And you? What do you do to vent?" He asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, I read a lot. Maybe I could read by the riverside while I watch you fish." I said, shrugging with a subtle smile.

"It's a date, then?" Will inquired, making me mortified. Caught me by total surprise, and when I was about to say something, my phone rang.

"Excuse me." I answered the phone. It was Alana. "Hey. We're already here waiting for you."

Not that I wanted her to arrive any time sooner, but she didn't have to know that.

"You won't believe me; I've got a flat tire. There's a guy helping me out, I was lucky, I'm in the middle of nowhere. But I'll get there in about fifty more minutes, more or less. Can you put Will on the phone? I'll explain everything to him."

"Do you need one of us to pick you up? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I wouldn't…"

"No, he's almost done. Thank you. Let me talk to Will, I'll be there soon. The storm is about to catch me, I wanna hurry."

I sighed, grimacing at him.

"She wants to talk to you." I passed him the phone, studying his expressions while he talked to her. As I looked at the window, I could see the dark clouds gathering up, making the end of the afternoon murky. The storm was about to hit hard. I could see a few thin drops of rain starting to wet the glass.

"I can stay a little longer, no problem. I'm being well attended." He traded looks with me, biting his lip slightly. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Alana."

He gave me the phone, but Alana was already gone. I put it on the coffee table, getting up.

"I think I'll pour myself some wine. Do you want some?" I asked politely. "It's one of the fanciest ones; Hannibal gave us a bottle when we dined at his house a few days ago."

"Yes. Thank you." He waited for me to come back with the beverages, and I did my best not to spill anything, sitting on the couch beside him while I gave him the glass. "So you're acquainted with Dr. Lecter?"

"Oh yeah, he's an old friend of Alana's, sometimes he invites us to dinner. He cooks the best meals I've ever had in my entire life, so I don't exactly decline the invitations. And he's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met, so it's always interesting." I took a sip of the crimson liquid, moaning low in pleasure. Good wine. I preferred a good cup of hot oolong, but it was impossible not to appreciate the quality of that drink.

A few glasses after and a lot of talks about dogs, fishing and other hobbies, he finally felt safe to bring back the topic. The rain had started really pouring, the now thicker drops hitting the windows loudly. Alana hadn't called again. It was nighttime now, the sky seeming to be darker than usual. I was low-key worried about her, but the conversation was too great to interrupt. She was a good driver. She would be just fine.

"I've been seeing Hannibal Lecter in his office. Not exactly his patient, though. A courtesy of Jack Crawford to keep an eye on the coping of my brain functions." He sounded a bit bitter, drinking a few sips of his wine.

I could see he didn't like therapy. Must be hard with someone with a mind like his.

"You know, sometimes, Alana psychoanalyses me. Like, she doesn't even notice. It's cute, but sometimes it creeps me out."

"She has a professional curiosity about me, but she's too polite and considerate to let it slip out. We've never even been alone in the same room together."

I held back a bitter comment, not wanting to talk shit about my cousin, but he saw it right through me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a complicated position."

"I know. You're sweet." The word slipped through my tongue before I could contain it. Will blinked a few times, seeming surprised, and I felt my cheeks burn, starting to stutter. "I meant… I'm sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. It's just… no one's ever called me that before." It was my time to get surprised. He didn't seem to be complimented much, and that just made me flabbergasted. I couldn't be the only one who saw how fantastic Will was.

"... Ah. Well, some people are just shy. I'm shy as hell, don't even know how I had the nerve to say that, it's probably the wine starting to kick in. Hope I really didn't make you uncomfortable, though. Don't need to be polite, it's okay to tell me."

"Actually, I'm curious to know what else you think of me. I sense it's not the only word you have to define me." He sounded bolder, and his eyes were on mine, giving me shivers down my spine.

"Well… I think you're too exceptional to be defined with a few words. You're… Kind, brilliant… I see how seeing what you see, doing what you do, how it wrecks you sometimes, and you just keep doing it because you're saving lives. That's so selfless, Will. That's…" I was going to say more, but at that very moment, a loud thunder just made the house practically tremble, and I let out a real inelegant weep, coming closer to Will and holding his arm firmly, my fingers grabbing on the fabric of his shirt. He could've thought it was an artifice to get closer to him, but he could see how frightened I was, trembling like a cornered wild little beast. I hated thunders, fireworks, anything loud. Feeling ridiculous, I released his shirt, apologizing with embarrassment.

"It's okay. It's just noise. I'm here." He put some of my hair that had fallen to my face behind my ear with such a tenderness that I felt my stomach twitch, realizing suddenly how close we were. He was looking at me as if it was the first time he was actually seeing me.

The phone rang again. Alana! I grabbed it from the coffee table, turning to face Will. He wasn't avoiding eye contact anymore, his pupils were dilated. My breathing was accelerated, and I knew it had little to do with the thunder.

"Lana, is everything okay?" I asked with genuine concern. "Are you close?"

"Ah, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'll make it in time, I'm driving slow, the roads are slippery because of the storm and it's pretty foggy. I'll stop at a motel and spend the night, or at least wait for the storm to pass. I'm so furious with myself!"

"It's okay cuz, do what's safer for you. I'm sure Will will understand. I'll pass him the phone." I gave him the phone and he talked to Alana for a few minutes, but I wasn't listening. She'd ruined the moment unintentionally, and now he was probably going home. When would I have an opportunity like that again?

"Okay. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Alana. Take care." He gave me the phone and I put it on the coffee table again. Before any of us could say anything, another thunder cracked the sky, and this time, Will held me so I wouldn't be afraid. The lights went out, and he held me against his chest protectively, making me smell his aftershave and some perfume. He smelled so good. For a moment, I just stood there in his arms, feeling his warmth, his breath, the steady beats of his heart.

I moved away just a little to see his face, very close to mine, but it was so dark I could only see shadows. A lightning lit up the room and, just for a little moment, I could see his gorgeous eyes staring at me. After a soft touch of his thumb on my lips, he finally kissed me, so gentle, like I could break as fine china with any rougher move. I touched his neck with both my hands, playing with his hair, feeling how soft they were. He pulled me closer, his hands on my waist, and the kiss started to get deeper, voracious, as if we were hungry for each other. Maybe the wine was helping to raise the lust; all I know is that I've wanted that to happen for a long time. Will's kiss was everything I imagined it would be, but entirely different at the same time. All I could say was that he was great at it. His hands traveled through my body, and I grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly. That made a low growl echo through his chest, and I started to feel my body fervent as a bonfire.

I couldn't say much because I was breathless and I didn't want to stop what we were doing, so a single word left my lips as I kept my forehead on his.

"Stay."

Will bit his lip, kissing me again, and that was all the answer I needed.

Morning. Thin sunrays illuminated my bedroom floor through the curtains, waking me up. The storm was gone. I haven't had a nice night of sleep like that in ages. I looked at the other side of my bed and there was Will, sleeping heavily. It wasn't a dream, after all. Last night really happened. I smiled, staring at the roof with disbelief in my eyes.

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Should I just let him sleep? He looked so heavenly, his hair was messy, his breathing steady, he seemed so less troubled than he usually was. I touched his hair lightly, caressing it with tenderness, and he started to move. I could see his neck, and a few hickies we marked on his albescent skin. That made me blush a little bit, and I laughed silently.

He opened his eyes while I still touched his hair, but I didn't stop, and he didn't seem to want me to. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and he smiled, a different smile than the usual ones he gave me.

"Hi." He said, pulling me closer by my waist, stroking the skin under the sheets. I pecked him on the lips, then kissing his forehead, his cheek, his jawline.

"Hey there. Good morning. I'm starving, are you having breakfast with me?"

"Actually, I gotta go home. Feed the dogs." He said, stroking my nude shoulder with his finger.

"Of course. Your dogs. I won't keep you then, poor babies must be so hungry." I kissed his cheek and was about to get up when he pulled me again, gently kissing my lips. I smiled, probably looking like an idiot. A joyful idiot. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen."

I dressed up in my long and black robe, smiling at him before I left the room, going to the kitchen, where I started to make some french toasts. After a few minutes, I heard the front door open, and an exhausted Alana came in, her hair frizzy and her coat looking still a bit wet.

"Oh, Lana! Go change, you'll get a cold!" I stopped what I was doing, going to her and helping to take off her coat.

"That storm was a nightmare. I swear I won't ignore the warnings ever again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea it would get this bad, yesterday was one of those days where everything just goes wrong. Hope Will arrived well at home, did he seem disappointed or annoyed before he left? I was so inconvenient…"

I didn't even have time to answer, because Will opened my bedroom door, coming out while buttoning his shirt, suddenly realizing Alana was there.

"Oh." Alana said, looking so flabbergasted I almost laughed at her. Will rose his eyebrows at the sight of her, seeming a bit unsure of what to do or say. I wasn't planning for her to find out like this, it was a bit early, I wasn't expecting her to arrive so soon. "Hi, Will."

"Alana. Hi." He avoided looking at her, staring at me, and his eyes immediately softened. I smiled, he smiled back, and that was it, Alana was forgotten.

"Off you go to feed your children." I joked, biting my bottom lip. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Definitely." He simply said, kissing my forehead while caressing my hair, certainly a little embarrassed to kiss me in front of Alana. "See you later, Y/n. Bye, Alana."

"Bye, Will." I waved with a soft smile, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the house.

My smile grew larger and I left my head fall back, squeaking low in commemoration. What a night! What a morning! I never thought I would thank a storm so much, let alone a bloody thunder.

Before Alana could say anything, I realized Will had left his glasses at the coffee table, and I picked it up in a hurry, bursting through the front door and calling him before he left, waving in front of the car.

"You forgot your glasses!" I said, and he opened the car windows, raising his hand to pick them.

I leaned against the car window, putting the glasses on him, and kissing his lips fiercely. He moaned in surprise, holding my face to deepen the kiss. After a moment, I pulled away, appreciating the view of his lips so reddish.

"Go back inside, it's cold." He said with a cheeky smile, and before I could say he actually made me hotter, he took off with the car.

I went back inside, where Alana was waiting for me with her arms crossed.

"What the hell did you do to Will Graham?" She asked, sounding severe, but a smile was trying to escape her lips "I mean, besides trying to suck his soul with your mouth a few moments ago."

"Oh, shut up!" I laughed, blushing violently. "You made that happen, you know? Thank you. Was that a set up or did the universe actually conspire in my favor?"

"I wish I'd planned this. That would mean I would've had a plan b and I wouldn't have stayed at that disgusting mote… Y/n, you're full of hickies, I can't believe you!"

"You're starting to sound like my mom, Lana. I'm gonna wear a turtleneck, don't worry, I don't want Beverly all over me like a bloodhound and Brian and Jimmy's witty comments today. In fact, keep it to yourself, okay? Will's discreet. I won't even tell Beverly, if she finds out, the whole bureau will know, hell, maybe even Freddie Lounds."

"I told you to let it go, Y/n. Will's very unstable right now. I… I only want what's best for you." She said with concern in her bright blue eyes. I sighed, walking to her and kissing her cheek with affection.

"You're a good cousin. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, okay? Unless this isn't only about me, unless it concerns something else." I raised an eyebrow while staring at her, more confident that I've ever been. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

She hesitated, clenching her jaw, but never spoke.

I smiled, tapping her cheek very lightly in approval.

"I gotta get ready to work. Wanna grab lunch with me later?" I asked in a casual tone, a cynical smile on my face. She shrugged. "See you later then, cuz."

#hannibal #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #will graham #will graham headcanon #will graham imagine #hannibal imagine #will graham x reader #alana bloom #alana bloom imagine #jack crawford #beverly katz #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal headcanon #will graham oneshot

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raisinbran79 · 4 years

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((( Please give feedback!! I'm a sad writer))))

The day came late for Jack Brown. The afternoon sunlight shot through his broken blinds pulling him from a restless slumber. Sometimes before he opens his eyes, he’ll forget where he is. He’ll forget his dread of embracing the day.

Jack opens his eyes and in a haze looks towards his smartphone. His skeletal fingers were shaking and the camera app on his phone flashed a reflection at him. Jack brown could be mistaken for a corpse if it wasn’t for the bright, ice blue of his eyes. He cringed at his reflection and went to check the time.

Sitting up in his single bed, his lungs felt full. He pushes out a strangled cough. Jack wiped his face and saw the black sludge that had leaked out of his lungs. Jack felt a lump in his stomach whenever he thought about his grandmother dying of lung cancer. even though his grandmother had passed from lung cancer when he was 21, hence the reason he is now the sole resident of her rent-controlled apartment. Jack remembered the day he had found her in the kitchen slumped over a bowl of cheerios with her oxygen tank screaming for more air, as her lungs probably did.

Jack looks around her apartment: It was a small place stacked with his grandmother's old paperba and erotica novels, her moth-eaten old furniture, and pictures of her friends and family that he had never met. Evidence of a long and happy life should have been a comfort to Jack. He wanted to erase all the evidence of her. Make this his real home, yet he couldn’t bear to do it. These photographs lined every wall, even in the bedroom. He felt like a stranger here, like he didn’t belong. Like everywhere else, even in his own home, he had strangers staring at him. The constant loneliness of a million eyes glaring was now the only comfort he held inside of himself.

Jack pulled himself out of bed, groaning with each pop in his bones. He picked up his uniform from the floor, A grey pinstripe button-up with SECURITY detailed on the front pocket and black slacks. In the pocket were a crushed pack of cigarettes and his father's red pocket knife, a reminder of the man he would never be. Beside him on the nightside table was a photo of Jack and his father. When his father was younger you could’ve sworn he was a movie star. Long blonde hair, and not even one crooked tooth. Jack pushed a hand through his dusty blond hair and ran his tongue over his yellowing teeth. He cleared his throat again and placed a cigarette in his mouth. One of his darker fantasies involved him waking up one morning and coughing so hard bits of his lung would spill out of his mouth, at least he wouldn’t have to go to work.

Jack made his way to the kitchen and opened up his fridge. The only thing cast in the fluorescent light was a dilapidated birthday cake. It had been Jack's birthday less than a week ago. Some of his coworkers had got together and purchased it for him. It was a vanilla cake ( he hated vannile) with pink icing. On the top of the cake, in red swirly lettering was “ Happy Birthday Jake!” The mistake did not bother Jack, the subject of birthday cake had always been a sore spot anyways.

His father Bo Brown, smelled like cheap barley and stale tobacco. A cigar always seemed to be perched in between his index and pointed finger. Jack, had always thought the way his mama, Eleanor Brown, was different and more delicate. As if in between those red painted fingernails she was holding a daisy. It was Jack’s sixth birthday and Eleanor had baked him a vanilla birthday cake with cream cheese frosting. His father, always being one for celebration, was very very drunk. What Jack didn’t understand was that drunkenness was the closest thing to goodness his father was capable of. The alcohol disillusioned his ambitions making him an unpredictable and stupid man.

In the doorway of the kitchen his mother stood with the birthday cake. She was a round woman.

Her eyes were like two round blue and green globes like the one in his classroom, and her cheeks round summer peaches. Jack did not receive his mother’s body type, instead he was cold and angular like his father. Eleanor stood with the cake on a platter and six red candles illuminating her smile in a heavenly halo. Bo sat at the kitchen table tapping his yellowed fingernails on the table and sipping his drink. The ice cubes clinked as he clapped his son on the back and yelled drunkenly

“ Well, Ellie, our sons are finally a man!” he shouted, “ and a man deserves a man’s gift.”

From his work jeans Jack’s father brandished a black box. When he opened it, a tiny red pocket layed there peacefully.

“ Now Bo, don’t you think he’s a little.. Young” his mother laughed sheepishly, her eyes brandishing terror.

“ Now Bo, don’t you think he’s a little young” Bo mocked as pure rage flashed across his face and he flicked open the knife and pointed it towards his wife.

“ Don’t you ever tell a man what to do and what not to do with his son!” he drove the knife down into the table.

The room was so quiet Jack could hear the blood pumping in his father's veins. His father’s face erupted into a tepid smile as he handed Jack the knife

“ I’m only joking Jackie” his father clapped him on the back once again.

Jack was too afraid to cry. However as his mother placed the birthday cake in front of him, he saw tears in her eyes.

“ Happy birthday Jack”

He was too young to feel this old, but even the twenty-minute walk to the bus stop winded him. He passed young millennials with their smartphones and turtlenecks. He didn’t know who he was a part of, 23 is an ever confusing age anyways. If Jack had it his way he’d be seventy already so there would be an excuse to be so miserable.

Jack sat toward the back of the bus as he always did. In front of him was a younger couple. The girl had short bleached hair and was wearing an oversize jean jacket with the words `` Reject society!” painted in bright red. The boy had a shaved head and was wearing a green knit sweater. His large combat boots were sticking in the aisle. As the bus started to roll the girl pulled out a cell phone and a set of headphones. She put one earbud in his ear and one in hers. The boy smiled at her, and she giggled. She set her head on his shoulder and even though Jack couldn’t see her, he knew she was smiling. He felt strange looking at them. As if he was eavesdropping on their little world. Jack was jealous of them. He was jealous he didn’t have someone to rest their head on his shoulder. To hold hands as they walked home together. To smoke cigarettes on his balcony with. Jack wasn’t unattractive. It was that Jack was terrified of people. Isolation, Jack realized, brings a lot of things. Jack thought he would forget how to speak. That his words would shoot up in his throat, and stop just behind his teeth and he`d choke on them. That his tongue would never move again and turn to cement, that`d he'd die struggling for breath. Even if those things happen .. then he wouldn’t mind too much.

The bus slowed to a stop and the young, in-love couple scurried off. Once again as Jack stood up, his bones popped and cracked. He exited the bus, gently apologizing as he bumped into people. They said nothing back.

Most people were exiting the museum as he hurried up the steps. Jack loved how it looked. It was reminiscent of the old homes in the south. Tall white, marble pillars in front of the doors, large glass doors with gold trimming that never chipped. Long flower boxes on each of the windows that always held cigarette butts and grocery store flowers. The building itself held an undeniable glow to anyone that stood in its shadow.

As he entered the building one of the curators, Quinn, gave him a polite smile. Quinn was tall with dark, dark brown hair. For what Jack knew, she was nice and very very smart. Quinn always knew when to speak and she was the best with guided tours. Jack thought maybe he could ask her out for a drink one night. Maybe they'd start talking about art, and the music they liked and what he wanted in ten years. Maybe she would kiss Jack outside of his favourite Chinese restaurant and maybe Jack would meet her parents. If not that, maybe they could just be friends.

Jack didn't have time for all that, if Jack had the right words, maybe.

He set his bags down on the front desk and clocked in at the computer. Jack sat down and stared at the setting sun through the long windows. It was just about time to lock the door. He crossed the large entrance hall, his work boots echoing through the museum. Jack pulled his ring of keys from his belt when all of sudden Quinn was barreling up the stars. Beige high heels in hand. Jack opened up the door as she reached the top.

" Jack!" She shouted, " You're a damn lifesaver!"

" Is everything okay?" He said

" Yes, yes I just forgot my wallet"

Jack let her in, and she pushed past him walking toward the front desk.

" It's my anniversary tonight, and I didn’t want to be without" she chuckled

" Congratulations Quinn" he smiled

" Thank you, thank you. Were going to his favourite Chinese place on the upper side -"

" The Golden Castle?" Jack asked

" Yes! That's the one?" She asked

There was a silent pause as Quinn dug through the drawers at the front desk.

" Is it only you here tonight?" She asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

" Always is"

Quinn lifted her wallet into the air triumphantly. Smiling beautifully.

`` Well, Jack if you get too bored, there's a new exhibit just down the hall..``

She came close to him, too close. Jack tried not to be weird. But He saw her crystalline eyes reflect from the dying sunset and the small scar above her top lip. She had freckles too, hundreds of them dotted all across her face. When she smiled, her top teeth were crooked, it made her face look kind and warm. Jack looked up from her lips.

`` Technically it’s a preservation piece, I haven’t even seen it. But, since you’re all alone” she said “ Maybe you could take a peak and tell me all about it.”

Her body pressed against his as she leaned into his ear

“Just don't let anyone find out, it`ll be our little secret. Okay?”

Jack beamed at her request . He put two fingers to his lips and then into the air.

“I promise, Scouts honour,” Jack said with fake confidence

There it was again, that little laugh, and that gorgeous smile.

“ Have a good night Jack” she moved past him and out the door. She fluttered down the stairs quickly.

“Hey, Quinn!” Jack called after her horsley

“ Yea?!” Quinn called back from down the stairs

“ Try the eggrolls”

Quinn looked up at him, smiled once again and slipped into a taxi. Jack was still smiling when he closed and locked the door. He turned away from the door, and finally his cheeks fell. His face burned from smiling so hard.

“Jesus Jack,” he thought to himself, ``Try the egg rolls?`

The night rolled on as it always does, slow and with no mercy. Jack had his feet up on the front desk and was scrolling through the 10 cameras set up on an old computer monitor. He moved his hand onto the mouse and clicked through the cameras carelessly.

Jack knew that there was no way that anyone could get in or out of this place. His job was merely peace of mind to the faceless millionaire that owned this place. While he had never met his boss, he always pictured him as an overweight man in a tight navy suit. Usually smoking a thick cigar and having a large shiny bald head. Kind of like the old mob bosses in his father’s favourite movies.

All of a sudden, there was a slight itching behind his ear. He dragged his dirty fingernails behind his ear, trying to soothe the itch. The more he scratched however the more that erupted into a burning hot inflammation. He whipped his head around and smacked his ear violently.

What the fuck, What the fuck, what the fuck? Jack screamed to himself in his head.

Without warning, a tiny black beetle fell from Jack’s ear and into the palm of his hand. Its exoskeleton was hard and smooth. It’s mouth curled into two lewdly sharp pincers,

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat and he threw the beetle on the ground. It scurried toward the far end of the hallway. Panting, Jack watched as it’s tiny body disappeared into the shadows.

It was then that he noticed that there was a long shadow running up the hallway walls. Had he forgotten to turn off a light? No way Jack thought to himself. All the lights in the museum only used two switches. One for one-half of the museums’ lights, the hallway on his left, and another the hallway on his right. But one ominous light burned through the darkness. Jack stood and went to investigate. Just as he stood from his chair, the burning in his ear ceased.

Once again his boots echoed in the empty hallways. Clump..clump….clump.

The source of the light was nowhere to be seen. Yet long shadows still ran up and down the walls. Jack turned a corner and finally there it was. The light was shining behind a large security door labelled " The Art of curse and passion DO NOT OPEN"

This was the new exhibit Quinn had told him to venture into. Jack had made it a habit to stick to the rules. Even though Jack didn't move an inch, the door seemed to be getting closer to him with every beat of his heart.

Lub dub….lub dub...lub dub

He outstretched his palm now drenched in sweat and grasped the polished door handle.

When he pushed open the door, a blinding white light pierced into his eyes. Jack screamed at the pain and tried to cover his eyes but it seemed as if his hands had melted to his sides.

In a matter of seconds, his eyes adjusted to the light.

The room was empty except for one painting. It was in a midsize thin brown frame. The painting depicted a woman. Her face was cold each angle smoother than the next. The woman's hair was deep deep obsidian and her eyes crystal white, almost as translucent as glass. A melody of flowers pooled around her, encircling her in the richest colours of flaming crimson Rose's, Bold purple violets and sapphire forget me not. She was the most beautiful woman, Jack had ever seen and once again without moving a muscle, the painting seemed to move closer to him with each beat of his heart.

His hand hovered to her face, begging to touch her skin. Jack's body burned for her, itching like a junkie wanting a fix he yearned for her more than anything he's ever wanted.

A soft voice came slithered over Jack's neck and into his ears

Touch She begged Touch me

With no second thought, Jack was removed and there only lay his desire. His long skinny finger brushed what he hoped to be canvas but instead was supple flash. Jack jumped back his heart hammering in his chest, closing his eyes tight praying hoping that this would all be a dream. He dug his fingernails deep into his palms praying that maybe that would wake him.

Yet when he opened his eyes, the painting had gotten closer and closer. The fear left his body as a receding tide. He was left face to face with Her. Jack’s breath left him in fleeting gasps. Her face moved, looking through him and at him all the same. Her blushing rose lips grazed him. Jack melted at the feeling of her tongue grazing his bottom lip.

She tasted like springtime. Fresh warmth after months of bitter cold and for the first moment, Jack's world was no longer colour blind. He was locked into her.

Help me Jack her voice was smooth and kind, I know, I know how lonely you are. How your heartaches as mine does. How the emptiness fills you like desire, I feel it too Jack. Please, please let me out.

I can’t Jack thought to himself I’ll lose my job

Please Jack, she begged, you hate it here, you despise this place.

From the bottom corner of the painting, a milky white hand appeared. It outstretched and wrapped itself around Jack’s cheek. Digging her palm into his jagged face, seemingly touching him from the inside.

I’ll save you Jack if you save me first.

There was no more Jack, only the paint that had seeped from her lips into him. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his father's pocket knife, assuming his destiny and releasing Her from her cage.

Jack rolled her up and cradled her in his arms. He felt her warmth radiate all over him.

Jack left the room, now dark as if the lights had never been on. His boots clomped once again, faster as he sped towards the door. Jack saw that hours had passed by him while he was in the room ; dawn illuminated the museum. To the front doors in which he quickly unlocked and threw open. The screech of the security alarms rang in his ears and he pumped his legs, not worried about turning off the alarm, not worried about anything. Jack's lungs felt as if they were made of lead and his blood pure and burning adrenaline

Feeling the bright morning dew slick on his skin and the light finally breaking through his fog.

Faster Jack, they can’t catch us

Jack ran so fast that the gods would never touch him. His long legs burned and begged him to slow down but Jack had what he never did, purpose and love.

It was too early for passersby to see him. The occasional morning jogger passed judgement at his uniform. They assumed he was just another nighttime degenerate crawling into the day.

He ran even faster.

Jack entered his apartment. The silence was crowded by the blood pounding thick in his ears. Jack stood for a moment. Revealing how the faces in all of his grandmothers' photographs seemed to smile at him now.

Unravel me Jack she said

All at once Jack rushed toward his kitchen table, swiping the ashtrays and stacks of paperbacks onto the ground. He opened her onto the table and was once again swept by her burning beauty.

He pulled up a chair and sat there at his table staring intently at the painting. Memorizing each curve, each line of her face. Tears burned at his eyes, and he wept onto her.

It’s okay Jack, You’ll never have to feel that way again, I just need one more thing

Anything, absolutely anything Jack smiled though his gut-wrenching sobs.

You must devour me

The life he lived before her was black and grey and now he breathed technicolour.

Dust settled on the table around him and on his fingertips. Spider’s and dust mites scurried up and down his furniture and the carpet. Large moths had fluttered onto my clothing, slowly but surely tearing away my cotton uniform. Leaving me a bare corpse dissolving into dust. I was disappearing as if his body was becoming weaker, and weaker with each passing breath.

You must devour me. Her voice echoed through his brain, and Jack became aware of what he must do.

Jack moved his skeletal frame towards his fridge. His stomach was caved inward, and his ribs jutted out at all angles. Jack’s stick-like fingers grasped the door and opened it. The cartilage in his knuckles cracking like ice on a pond.

In his fridge, behind the cake, there was a glass cup of cream and a mason jar of honey. Jack used his failing strength to set the cream and the honey on the table. He slumped down once again.

Jack lowered his head to her face one last time. Pressing his forehead to hers and his chapped lips to hers. All he tasted was canvas.

Please don’t leave me he thought, I love you

Jack, don’t you see, now I’ll always be apart of you

You’ll never be alone again

He stuck his fingers into the jar of honey and slathered her face encompassing her in sweetness. Delicately he ripped a piece of her and stuffed it past his lips. Dissolving the canvas into a soft pulp. His back molars did not dare tear the paper to bits. His stomach screamed for fullness. The ball of dissolving canvas lodged itself below his Adam's apple. Jack poured the cream down his throat and colour entered him. With ravenous lust , piece after piece Jack began to gorge himself stuffing every last piece inside him. He ate around her face, devouring the prismatic flowers first. Slathering each piece in gobs of honey and gulping down cream. Sputtering whiteness from his full mouth. Jack paused when it came to her waxy and pointed face. He ripped larger, and larger portions from her face until the only pieces left were her eyes. He held the last pieces of her in his hands and dipped her in the honey. He swallowed so much of her she gripped his throat. The yellow liquid dripped down his chin and onto his wrists, the long self inflicted scars of his youth were bathed in sweetness.

Never again Jack promised himself,

Never again the woman's voice promised him.

If alone was a feeling, loneliness was a hole in the bottom of his stomach an ache in his tooth. An itch in the back of your eye. I had always had this hole, this ache and this itch.

As she entered me, as her color filled me….

Jack brown was never lonely again.

….

#writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #love #horror #harry potter

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