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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

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The Wrath of the Lamb

3x13

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4.7k (this is officially the longest thing i’ve ever posted, i beat my own record three times with this series lmao)

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, guns, pregnancy, burning, canniablism, death, gore probably more idk

Author’s Note: My very favorite thing about this rewrite is watching the show and seeing how those writers and creators took pieces of the original source material to create their own show and I took both the novels and the show and just did this. I am very very proud of this. I am so happy I decided to do it. I was going to make a substantial change to the ending but I honestly am hoping that one day, season 4 will happen and maybe I’ll stil be writing. Thank you all SO MUCH for getting this far. I am so happy we got to share this together and that this show is as good as it is. I hope I did it justice because this show is so complex. I hope that you all enjoy and thank you again.

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: Will orchestrates a plot involving Hannibal in hope of slaying Francis Dolarhyde; Bedelia is concerned for Will and the lives of those close to him.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

You looked in the small window of Reba’s hospital room. You were standing outside of it beside your husband, your hand tight around your upper arm. You were almost cradling yourself in a way. This reminded you of when you had come to visit Abigail, when she was still in the hospital. As your eyes went from the window to Will you were once again thrown to the reality of now. If it had been Abigail in that room you would have looked to see a shaking, sweating puppy dog Will Graham who was so unsure of the world around him. This Will was so different. His hair was done, his shirt ironed. You had ironed it.

He met your eyes and you gave him a small nod. He opened the door and you let him go inside. You did not follow him. He had enough empathy to give Reba and he understood where she was standing. You and him understood. You had all loved a monster.

Will grabbed your arm gently. You and him stood in front of Hannibal’s cage. You had no doubt that Hannibal saw you somewhere else. But nonetheless, you allowed yourself to ease in his presence. A thing Will was once again learning to do.

“Ding-dong, the Dragon’s dead,” Will said. Hannibal raised an eyebrow. He looked between the two of you and his smile faded.

“Pity. I had such plans,” he promised. You believed that. “Are congratulations in order?” Will approached the other man, just against the glass wall.

“I didn’t kill him. Neither did Y/N. Suicide.”

“I would have liked to kill him as well,” you muttered. Hannibal seemed disappointed at that.

“Then he wasn’t as strong as the Dragon after all,” Hannibal whispered.

“He was trying to stop,” Will argued. You weren’t sure why Will was arguing for Francis. You hated that he was. He had hurt you. Francis had scared you. You didn’t mention it but you could feel that Hannibal caught the emotion

“I was rooting for you, Will. I figured you would adore killing the man who attacked your family, it’s such a shame. You came all this way and didn’t even get to kill anybody. Only consolation is Dr. Chilton.” Hannibal paused for affect. “Congratulations for the job you did on him. I admired it enormously. Did you do it together? Was the idea hatched in the duo?” You straightened your back.

“No,” Will said simply.

“What a cunning couple you are,” Hannibal said anyway.

“Are you accusing us of something?” you questioned.

“Does the enemy inside you agree with the accusation? Even a little bit?” Hannibal questioned.

“We came back to stop the Dragon. He’s stopped,” Will stated.

“Your family was on his itinerary Will. You’re safe now, all three of you. You can go home again. If there’s any point?” Hannibal suggested. You gave him a look.

“I like my life,” Will said but he did not sound convincing.

“It won't’ be the same. You’ll see it’s not the same,” Hannibal promised. You stepped closer to the glass.

“I want it to be the same. Together, we will make it the same,” you promised.

“Mutual assurances you try to exchange in the dark and in the day will pass through some refraction, making them miss their mark. When life becomes maddeningly polite…” Hannibal thought about his words and made you both think about them as well. “...think about me. Think about me, don’t worry about me.”

Will was ready to leave. You could feel it.

“You turned yourself in so I would always know where you are. You’d only do that if we, together, rejected you.” Will put his hand on the nape of your back. “Good-bye Hannibal.” Will started to lead you out.

“Will…” He turned. “Was it good to see me?”

“Good? No.”

Will walked out and you followed him. He kept going but you stopped as the doors behind you shut. Your mind reeled and he could see it.

“I need my own goodbye,” you whispered. He gave you a long look. He knew that this was what you needed. He knew it was. Still though, he didn’t want it. He wanted to protest.

“I’m going back to the motel. Meet me there?” You nodded. He walked down the hall. You could feel his tenseness but ignored it as you walked back into the room with Hannibal. He was clearly surprised to see you.

“Was that not good-bye?” he questioned. You shrugged.

“That was Will’s good-bye. Not mine.”

You walked in front of the glass and sat down. Hannibal did the same. You were arguably one of the only people he would sit down like that for.

“I take for granted, on occasion, that you enjoyed my company,” you told him. You played with the hem of your pants. “I recognize, to a fault, that you would eat me if let out. You would eat my husband. You would eat my baby. But still…” You smiled, reminiscently. “I loved you.”

He was pleased to hear this. He was so pleased.

“You never would have left him. Not even if I killed him in the kitchen,” he suggested. You thought about that for a moment. You thought back to that terrible day and felt it again.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“When you came in to interview for the secretary position I had already picked someone. I didn’t want to be rude, so I let you in.” He stopped. That was the end of his story.

“Why would you let me work for you?”

“Because I liked you. And as it turns out, we would have met eventually. Through Will.” You nodded.

“But it would have been different.”

“Yes. Yes it would have.” You pressed your hand against the glass. He looked at it and he did not put his hand on yours.

“Will is right. I turned myself in so you and he would always know where I am. Because you rejected me.” Your hand fell off the glass slowly.

“I deserved that.”

You stood up and took a deep breath.

“Good-bye Hannibal.”

You walked up to the hotel room and started to grab the key from your purse. You struggled for a moment but eventually found it. You slid it into the lock and unlocked it, walking inside. Your mind hung over Hannibal still when you were grabbed. You had just been able to see Francis coming at you enough to push him off, hitting his head. He ran out of the door and you followed him but eventually he went too far and you had to stop. You turned back to the room and ran back, your hand on your stomach as you breathed hard from adrenaline.

Will sat in the chair, tied down. You rushed to him, locking the door behind you.

You started to untie him.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“The Red Dragon,” he breathed. You scoffed.

“Not dead then.”

“Clearly.” You got him out quickly.

“Are you alright?” you questioned. He nodded, rubbing his wrists.

“Yeah. He didn’t hurt me much.”

“What did he want?”

You stared at each other. He didn’t need to tell you. You knew.

Will, you and Jack Crawford stood in the hall leading to the morgue.

“The obvious thing is to try to get him to come to us. Bait him with something he wants more than us,” Will said. Jack gave him a look.

“He’d be an idiot to go for it,” Jack muttered.

“I know. Want to hear what the best bait would be?” you asked. Jack stared at you. You stared back at him.

“Not from you.”

“Hannibal would be the best bait,” Will said so that you didn’t have to. Jack shook his head.

“Why in God’s name would anybody want to meet Hannibal Lecter?”

“To kill him, Jack. The Dragon could absorb him that way, engulf him, become more than he is,” Will explained. It gave you a moment of just realizing that was how he used to speak about killers he didn’t know.

“You sound pretty sure Will.”

“I’m not sure. Who’s sure? I’m not even sure Hannibal would draw the Dragon. I say it’s the best shot,” Will explained.

“Set up how?” Jack asked.

“I would be hell to do, I know that. We’d take Hannibal into federal custody,” Will said. You gave him a look.

“Because Y/N and Alana would never sit still for what you’re about to suggest?” You gave Jack a bitter role.

“We fake an escape.” Will stared at you for a moment and Zeller called his name. “One moment.” He disappeared in the morgue that left you and Jack alone, annoyingly.

“You’ll have both their lives in your hands,” you whispered.

“Since when do you care about if Hannibal gets hurt under my care?” he questioned.

“Since now.”

Bedelia did not look happy. You did not expect her to be happy either. You respected her bit of unhappiness.

“We assign a moment to decision, to dignify the process as a timely result of rational and conscious thought. Yet what you propose is so thoughtless, I find it difficult to imagine that moment exists,” Bedelia said bitterly. You stood behind Will, walking around the room slowly. Will sat down across from her.

“Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They’re more often a lump than a sum.” Bedelia stood up, walked to where she kept the drinks and poured herself one. She offered one to you that she then realized you couldn’t drink.

“However you think you’re going to manipulate this situation to your advantage, think again,” Bedelia said.

“There is no advantage. It’s all degrees of disadvantage,” you argued. Bedelia fixed on you and Will with a piercing stare.

“‘Who holds the Devil, let him hold him well. He will hardly be caught a second time’.”

“I don’t intend Hannibal to be caught a second time.” A flicker of alarm played in her eyes.

“Can’t live with him. Can’t live without him. Is that what this is?” she asked, bitterly.

“I guess this is my Becoming,” Will suggested.

“I just tag along,” you whispered.

“Because you have two crazy men in absolute love with you,” she told you. Will stood up, straightening his jacket. He was done here.

“I’d pack my bags if I were you Bedelia. Meat’s back on the menu.”

Alana looked annoyed. She sat in Jack’s office, a place you hated to the ends of the Earth. You messed with your hair a bit, leaning against the wall.

“Hannibal has tentatively agreed to the deal, as proposed,” Alana said.

“What will make him less tentative?”

“He wants Will and Y/N to ask him.” She turned to him. “He wants you to say ‘please’.” You gave a bitter smile. So very like him.

“I’ll say ‘pretty please’,” Will said. He was preparing to speak to you. He knew what he had to bring up would not blow over right.

“We will have a stampede when people think Lecter is out,” Jack explained.

“Let them stampede. Authenticity. And let them think I helped Hannibal escape,” Will muttered.

“Authenticity?”

“Someone has to be close. When the Dragon comes.” He turned to you. “And just one person.” For a moment, the other three people in that room let that sink in. It was a surprise even to Jack Crawford that Will would even suggest that he go somewhere without you.

“Sorry?”

“You can’t come,” he repeated.

“No I heard you, I was letting you change your sentence.”

“I don’t think you need to be there. You don’t.” You clenched your fist and looked away from him. You understood where he was coming from. There was no reason for you to be there. You would only be in the way and you had a child. It would be stupid.

But still.

Every piece of you wanted to be there with Will and Hannibal. You were always there with them. They were your boys.

You shook your head slowly.

“What do you suggest I do?” you asked. Will thought about that for a moment.

“Whatever you want.” You couldn’t look at him. He pulled a pocket knife out of his jacket pocket and handed it to you. You took it slowly but still looked away from him. “For if you need it.” You weren’t sure what that meant and you didn’t want to ask.

You and Will walked into the room with Hannibal again. You had hoped to never have to see it again. He did not look surprised to see you this time.

“I thought you said your good-byes.”

“We’ve had one last good-bye between us.” Hannibal was tied up in a straight jacket. You hadn’t been this close to him for a while. You wanted to touch him but you held yourself back.

“You didn’t just say good-bye, though, did you? That little extra bit at the end for you Will. It felt very final for both of you. I believe it’s called a ‘mic drop’. You dropped the mic, but here you are having to come back and pick it back up again,” Hannibal explained. There were nurses in there with you that stopped any kind of intimacy feeling you may have.

“I knew you would keep running if I kept chasing you. I knew you wanted me to know exactly where I could find you. When we needed you,” Will said.

“And you did,” Hannibal commented.

“I need you, Hannibal,” you said. Will finished it off.

“Please.”

Will stared at Hannibal in his cage. Even as Francis drove by, he stared at Hannibal. His mind became blurry. But still, he saw the outline of Hannibal’s face in the fog that was his mind as it crashed. People died. People were killed.

Hannibal was let out.

Will did not panic. He figured this would happen. He knew this would happen.

When his mind regained his moment, he got up and stepped out of the broken car. Hannibal crossed to the police car as he took off his straight jacket. He opened the door and pulled the dead driver from the vehicle.

“What are you doing?” Will called.

“You know Will, you worry too much. You’d be so much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself. Are you coming? He’s not going to kill us here. What he wants to do requires something a little more private.” Hannibal behind the wheel was an interesting scene. The side window was smashed, blood splashed across the inside of the windshield. Hannibal pulled up alongside Will, opened the passenger door and shoved a dead police officer out of the vehicle. He leaned over the seat.

“Going my way?” Will looked through the car door and then looked back down the road.

“You know it can’t just be the two of us,” Will said.

“It never was and never will be, just the two of us.”

You sat in Jack’s office. Will’s pocket knife was in your hand tightly. You were getting a play by play that way which was the only reason you were truly there. You sat in a chair, head in one of your hands as you heard the voices go out and static. You looked up and Jack looked at you.

“What is that? What happened?”

“Hold on.” He dialed a number.

There was an excruciatingly long moment in silence. You held your breath, biting your finger gently as you waited. Someone spoke on the other line. You couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Then he hung up and looked at you. You stared back at him and waited.

“They were intercepted. We don’t know yet if there are any survivors.” You stared at him and he waited for that backlash. He was ready for it. But there was no anger that went over your face, instead it was just a small laugh. You shook your head and that laugh fell.

He saw that face and he recognized the look in your eyes.

“Do you remember the first judge of Will’s trial?” you asked quietly.

“What?”

“Do you. Remember. The first judge. In my husband's murder trial?” you asked again, louder this time.

“Yeah. Hannibal killed him.” You widened your eyes and shook your head slowly.

“No. I did.”

He had no time to react. You opened the pocket knife and leaned across the desk, slashing his throat.

You reached the motel room quickly after that. You pulled in at the same time you saw a car pull into the parking lot behind you. You got out of your car, hands still stained in Jack Crawford’s blood. The car slowed down beside you. You looked into it and the window rolled down, revealing Will in the passenger seat, Hannibal in the driver's seat.

You let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Jack told me you were dead,” you said as you rushed to the window.

“Get in the back,” Will said gently. He went to grab your hand but stopped when he saw the blood. Hannibal noticed it at the same time. You did not address it, instead you got in the back of the car with them.

Hannibal pulled out of the parking lot and away.

“The blood isn’t...the b-” Will started but you cut him off.

“No. I slit Jack Crawford’s throat,” you stated. Hannibal, pleasantly surprised, laughed. Will turned around to look at you. He didn’t look exactly surprised at you. More surprised at his lack of shock.

“About time,” Hannibal said.

“Is he dead?” Will asked. You shrugged.

“I left before figuring that out.”

You were so happy to be back beside the both of them. You just let out another sigh of relief.

You got out of the car and admired the scenery. It was such a Hannibal place, you weren’t even surprised. The sun setting, the cliff, the way the house stood on the Earth. So serendipitous.

“The bluff is eroding. There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still when I was here with Miriam Lass,” Hannibal said. Will looked over the view and down the cliff a bit. Water, crashing. Gorgeous.

“Now you’re here with us,” Will said.

“And the bluff is still eroding. You and I are suspended over the roiling Atlaninic. Soon all of this will be lost to sea,” Hannibal explained. You walked over to where Will lingered by the cliff. Hannibal walked away from you to find the key to the home.

“This isn’t the right place for us to be,” he whispered.

“Yes it is,” you countered.

“Running from the law with a child?”

“Sounds like something we would do and do well.” He looked over at you away from the view.

“Let’s get your hands cleaned.”

The sun set completely. The moon showed through the glass walls. You stared through the view and Will stood beside you, watching you watch your new life. He put his hand on your shoulder and you leaned into him as Hannibal walked into the room. Hannibal pulled a wine bottle from the rack and poured two glasses of wine.

“I apologize that I cannot offer you any wine Y/N,” he said. You turned to him. Will’s hand dropped.

“No worries. I never liked it anyway,” you lied. Will took a glass.

“You’re playing games with yourself in the dark of the moon,” Hannibal said, moving toward the window as well. “Wasn’t surprising that I heard from the Great Red Dragon. Was it surprising when you both heard from him?”

“Yes and no,” Will said.

“Surprised me. I just wanted to sleep in my own bed,” you whispered. Hannibal smiled gently but that quickly fell off his features.

“You intend to watch him kill me?” Hannibal questioned. You shook your head but Will spoke first.

“I intend to watch him change you.” Hannibal took that in, a sad smile on his face as he fingered the corkscrew. He saw it in his hands and wondered if he should kill you. Kill Will. Get it over with. Instead, he uses the tip to cut the seal on the wine bottle.

“My compassion for you both is inconvenient,” Hannibal stated.

“If you’re partial to beef products, it’s inconvenient to be compassionate toward a cow,” Will muttered.

“Save yourself, kill them all?” Hannibal asked.

“I don’t know if we can save ourselves. And maybe that’s just fine,” you said.

“No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for a friend’,” Hannibal recited. Will looked out the window and sensed the danger.

“He’s watching us now,” Will whispered. He looked at you and you looked back at him. You were staring at each other the second that the glass wall shattered, impaling Hannibal in the stomach. You turned quickly, moving toward Will subconsciously. Hannibal’s wine bottle dropped from his hand and a large red stain on his sweater blossomed with blood. Glass shards fell through the air and beyond them, the patio is just the black knight. In the darkness came Francis Dolarhyde.

Hannibal slid down to his knee. Blood pumping from the gunshot wound in his abdomen. Will grabbed you but Francis raised his gun to the two of you.

“Don’t run. I’ll catch you.” Hannibal glanced down at his belly wound.

“Hello, Francis,” he said.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” he echoed. Francis pulled a tripod from his bag and tossed it to you before pointing the gun at your head. Will took the tripod from your hands and began to set it up.

“I’m so happy you chose life, Francis. Suicide is the enemy.”

“I had one rag of pride that Reba McClane gave me. It told me that suicide was a sorry end,” Francis explained.

“You were seized by a fantasy life with the brilliance and freshness and immediacy of childhood. It took you a step beyond alone.” Francis pulled out a 16-mm camera from his bag and handed it to you who fixed it on the tripod, still at gunpoint.

“I’m going to film your death, Dr. Lecter, as dying, you meld with the strength of the Dragon.”

“It’s a glorious and rather discomfiting idea,” Hannibal muttered. You back away from the camera and he reached for the gun that was in his waistband. You wanted to reach for Will’s knife he had given you but hesitated.

“Watching the film will be wonderful, but not as wonderful as the act itself.”

Before you even knew what was happening, a knife slammed in Will’s face. You screamed. Francis shot you in the stomach. You stumbled back and then moved forward again. Will fell through the broken wall you attacked Francis. You had enough strength to get him outside.

Francis lifted Will off the ground and Will stabbed him with the knife that was once in his cheek. As you found your own knife, Francis started to again fight Will. As you moved you saw Will rag-doll across the stones. Will’s blood spattered across the thick drops to the stone. He got to his hands and knees. You went to stab Francis again but he got to you first, slashing your side. It stunned you enough that you fell back on the stones beside your husband.

Will pulled his gun out and Francis immediately disarmed him, tossing the gun over the bluff. You wanted to scream but nothing came out. Just as Francis went to slash him again Hannibal came out of the darkness. He tried to snap Franics neck but the man's neck was too strong and he swatted Hannibal away.

The two of them staggered across the patio. You tried to get up and Will did as well. He tossed Hannibal off but you and Will were up again.

You started to use your knives on his legs, hoping to disarm him. Hannibal grabbed a hatchet that he found off to the side. He slammed it into Francis achilles tendon and then his knee.

You, Will and Hannibal all stood now. Exhausted but equal. Francis bleeded from his wounds, leg destroyed. Hannibal staggered up to him and bit out Francis throat. He arched his back and blood fell all around him.

Eventually he fell and let out one last breath as he stared at Will in front of him.

Dead.

Will started to finally feel his wounds, as did you and Hannibal. He looked down at his hands which were drenched in red.

“It really does look black in the moonlight,” he whispered. You didn’t know what he was talking about but you didn’t ask. You stumbled to Hannibal who caught you. In his other arm, Will stood. The three of you embraced, not quite hugging, not not hugging.

You caught your breath together. The night was still otherwise.

“See,” Hannibal breathed. You did not look up at him. Will’s head was against his chest. You were buried in his neck. You grabbed Will’s hand and he held it for dear life. “This is all I ever wanted for you,” he choked. “For all of us.”

Hannibal sounded broken.

You felt broken.

Will looked broken.

You closed your eyes, brushing back the tears that you didn’t know were there.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. And you weren’t lying. Will stared at you and he genuinely felt that it was beautiful. He felt what you did. A single tear cut through the blood on his face and fell.

You held onto him and Hannibal tightly.

These were your boys. These were the people you had risked it all for. And you did not regret it for even a moment.

Hannibal let out a shaky breath and you felt the Earth underneath you move. You felt the ground and then you did not.

Where you once stood was drenched in blood. It was illuminated by the moon. If someone was to stand there, despite there no longer being a living person standing there, they would feel the emotions that had left. That place was no longer still. It was breathing.

The sea underneath it was breathing. It had engulfed three people who loved each other more than anyone had loved anyone.

The waves crashed against the rocks, the only noise left in the dark of the night.

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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langdvnshepherd · 6 years ago

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Good For You ~ Epilogue (Duncan Shepherd x fem!reader)

PART ONE ~ PART TWO ~ PART THREE ~ PART FOUR

MASTERLIST

Summary: You’re a broke ass college student whose one night stand with the infamous Duncan Shepherd leads to the development of a rather interesting relationship between the two of you.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: sugar daddy!Duncan, fem!reader, smut, daddy kink, voyeurism (sort of? not really but), lost of fluff hehe

A/N: Surprise bitch, I bet you thought you’d seen the last of sugar daddy!Duncan and Y/N 😏. Since everyone seemed to be feelin some type of way that Part 4 was the last part, I figured I’d finish them off with a cute lil sum sum bc why the hell not lmao. This also kinda fits in line with it being finals szn, so for all my thotties still in school, enjoy!! Also I barely proofread this pls forgive me. Once again, thanks for all of the kind words about my writing, it means the world to be as always!

A set of keys rattling on the other side of Duncan’s apartment door indicated her arrival. They jangled rapidly, as if getting inside was of utmost importance. Duncan knew exactly who it was, as only two other people in the world had a key to his place. Annette, whom he’d only recently just reconciled with after the earth-shattering news that revealed she wasn’t actually his mother, had taken off to Mexico earlier that week to tend to international ties with The Shepherd Freedom Foundation, so it wasn’t her. Which led him to believe that only other person, a person he’d been thinking an awful lot about lately, could possibly be making their way into his apartment...

“I DID IT!” you yelled as you bolted through the front door of Duncan’s, well yours and Duncan’s, apartment. Probably a little too loud for his neighbor’s liking, but you were too excited to give a shit. Paying no mind to behave like a civilized human being, you dropped everything at the entryway and jumped over the back of the quilted leather sofa to plummet into Duncan’s lap; textbooks, designer bag, and the obnoxiously large keyring to your new Audi (an anniversary present from Duncan), all clanking to the floor in one large pile.

Duncan grunted in response, the weight of you crashing on top of him so suddenly knocked the breath out of him. His face quickly became consumed by a genuine, ear-to-ear smile as he remembered what you had set off to do this morning.

“I knew you would,” he stated matter-of-factly as his arms wrapped securely and comfortably around your waist, his lips reaching over to plant a quick kiss on your lips before you told him all about the day you’d just had.

In the years that the two of you actually spent together as a couple, you’d come to realize many things about the infamous Duncan Shepherd. One being that he loved physical contact. He wasn’t quick to expose that side of himself back when he was considered strictly as your sugar daddy, but that passing of time had made him soft. He loved touches. Even little touches like pressing his knee against yours under the table during boring gala dinners, or rubbing small circles on the underside of your ass while his head was between your legs. Duncan lacing his arms around you had become customary, part of your daily routine when either of you came home for the night.

“The department loved my thesis. They said my research was impeccable, and that there wasn’t a single thing I could have done to improve it. I’m set to graduate in two weeks!” you gloated, and you damn well reserved the right to.

For the past 3 years, you’d been working on your thesis for graduate school, and it just about took every ounce of sanity you had left. You couldn’t count the number of days and nights you’d spent huddled over a textbook or sobbing into your laptop because your numbers weren’t coming out right or you felt like your argument was pointless. But Duncan was there for you through it all. He saw how drained you were for months on end, and wanted to make sure he was doing everything he could. You quit your job, finally giving into Duncan’s pleads to let him cover your expenses full time. You’d even been living with him for just over a year now, not counting the many, unofficial months prior when a large collection of your bras and underwear had mysteriously taken over drawers of Duncan’s dresser. Your roommate was pissed after finding out you were abandoning her to move in with your boyfriend, but she quickly retracted her remarks upon realizing she’d be able to visit Duncan’s lavish apartment whenever she pleased.

“So I’m guessing my little stress reliever really helped take the edge off for your presentation then, hmm?” he snidely remarked, referring to last night, when his fingers worked you over the edge repeatedly. You’d been up all night worrying, sleep being the furthest thing from your mind. Duncan begged and pleaded for you to come to bed, but you refused. Too many last minute diagrams to perfect and statistics to memorize before your thesis defense the next morning. He’d somehow managed to coax you into the satin of his sheets with the promise of a good night’s sleep. There was no teasing, no holding back, just Duncan making you feel so incredibly good, knocking you into a deep slumber in no time.

“I just got my fucking master’s degree, and you want to try to make this about yourself?” you sarcastically jabbed, playfully shoving Duncan’s shoulders against the back of the couch.

He pretended to be hurt, unwinding one arm from your waist to dramatically massage the skin where you’d pushed him.

“I’m teasing, dove. You wanna go out? I’m feeling like this calls for a celebration. We can go to that new seafood restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. You have to have a reservation, but I could probably get us in.”

“Can we just stay in? I’ve been standing in these heels for hours and I really don’t feel like talking to anyone else,” you muttered while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, the exhaustion evident in your body language.

“Of course,” he replied, resting his chin on the top of your head while brushing his fingertips absentmindedly across your forearm. “I can call in something. What are you in the mood for? Sushi? Thai?”

“Can we order pizza from that place by my old apartment?” you asked, a cheeky grin creeping its way onto your face. You knew damn well the reaction that suggestion would get out of him. You’d gotten Duncan to eat there once, but only once. After some begging on your part, Duncan agreed to give it a shot. His upbringing consisted of caviar and charcuteries, meaning greasy, $2 a slice pizza automatically made his stomach churn. He ate it, but not without complaining the entire time. Despite growing accustomed to Duncan’s ways after being with him for so long, you still yearned for that shitty, cheesy, pumped-full-of-chemicals pizza that had comforted you on many drunken nights while walking back to your old apartment.

Duncan pulled back from where he was cuddled into you to reveal the most genuine, stink face you had ever seen. His lips were pressed together firmly and turned down in disgust and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. Clearly not amused.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Serious as a heart attack, handsome,” you rattled your fingertips against his peck for emphasis, peering up at him with doe eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

He paused for a moment longer, praying you’d suggest something, anything, else besides that stupid fucking pizza he hated so much. He honestly didn’t see how people could stomach food like that, but he wasn’t going to crush your spirits on your special day.

Realizing you weren’t budging on your wishes, he audibly groaned.

“You’re lucky I have a hard time saying no to you. You know that, right?”

“As if you ever would, Donut.”

He suppressed a chuckle at the nickname you’d recently picked given him, still trying to seem annoyed.

“Whatever, brat.” He snorted effortlessly flicked your legs off of his lap, sauntering towards the kitchen to grab his phone and place an order for what he considered the worst meal on the planet.

Somewhere along the line, the pizza had long been forgotten. Maybe it was when you’d purposely reached over Duncan to grab the tv remote, making sure he got an eyeful of your breasts as you moved. Or maybe it was when you’d kissed him to shut him up amidst his incessant bitching about how the pizza tasted like it had been left out in the hot sun for 3 days. However it went down, you’d found yourself straddled across Duncan’s lap, his hands clutched tightly at your waist, occasionally roaming down to your ass to grind you against his hardening cock.

You felt your core pulsing beneath you as Duncan ground his hips against yours, arousal pooling at your entrance. As old as Duncan was, he was always in the mood, ready to take you whenever and wherever. He had situated his body so that his legs were propped up on the cushions and his back was leaning against the stiff armrest, where he was able to hold your body as close to his as possible with ease. You were lost in the moment, not thinking of anything or anyone else except the way Duncan was making you feel. Once you were able to pry Duncan’s hands from of your ass, you withdrew your lips from his with a pop. Sliding down his body, you held eye contact with him as you reached for the buckle on his belt, eyes blown with desire. Duncan had this look on his face like he was contemplating doing something or saying something, but he certainly didn’t want you to stop either. He let you undo his belt buckle and unzip his trousers, making one less layer between you and his aching cock. You pressed your lips over the cotton of his boxers, making him groan as you mouthed at his erection that was begging to be set free. Just as you reached for the waistband of his boxers, Duncan gripped you by your wrists. “What? Are you okay?” you stopped suddenly. Duncan was never one to put things on hold, especially when your pretty, little lips were mere inches away from where he wanted you most. “Put your shoes on, I need to show you something.” “You’re joking, right?” you asked, sitting up from your place between his legs.

“Serious as a heart attack, angel,” he responded, batting his eyelashes and speaking in a sing-song voice, clearly mocking your words from earlier on in the evening.

“Come on, let’s get in the car.”

Glancing down at the bulge in boxers, you gave him one last, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of this first?” look. He simply smiled in return, taking your hand in his to help you up from the couch.

The car ride lasted for what felt like an eternity, largely due to the fact that Duncan had used one of the emergency ties he kept in his backseat to blindfold you, making you completely unaware of where he was taking you. You begged and pleaded for Duncan to tell you where you were going, but he wouldn’t budge. It was a surprise, he insisted.

“Is it a dog?”

“Jesus, no.”

“A cat?”

“Absolutely not, Y/N.”

“A bird?”

“Why would I blindfold you to take you to get a fucking bird?”

“I don’t know, Dunc? Why did you throw me in your Bentley and blindfold me at 11 o’clock at night anyway, hmm?

“Will you just drop it? You’ll see when we get there.” He was annoyed but the tone of voice let you know he was still entertained by your whining. You knew he was smirking despite not being able to see anything but the darkness that the blindfold allowed.

“Fine, but a dog would still be nice.”

The rest of the way consisted of silence; the whirring of the engine and the breeze of the air conditioner being the only sounds filling the confines of Duncan’s car. You tugged at the tie around your eyes, trying to stealthily catch a glimpse of a highway sign that would even slightly indicate where you were headed. He caught you every time, scolding you and sarcastically threatening to drop you off on the side of the road if you tried it again.

Suddenly, you felt Duncan applying pressure to the brakes, the car slightly jerking as he shifted the gear to park. Finally. Whatever Duncan was planning was about to be unveiled.

Your hand wrapped around the back of the tie, attempting to undo the knot and take in your surroundings. Duncan was quicker, swatting your hands away before you could slip the fabric away from your eyes.

��Not yet. I’ll tell you when you can look.”

Exhaustingly, you threw your head back into the headrest of the seat with a sigh.

“Will you stop being dramatic? We’ll be inside in like 10 seconds.” You couldn’t see him, but you knew his eyes were rolled so far back into his head they might have fallen out.

You heard the click of the door handle, and felt Duncan’s hand on your elbow, prompting you to step out of his car. Your shoes scraped against pavement, meaning he hadn’t driven you into the middle of the woods to kill you. What a relief.

He guided your steps with his fingers laced in yours, oddly soothing you as your anxiety was climbing at not having any idea where you could possibly be. The air outside was crisp, slightly chilly due to the time of night. The only noise coming from outside was the continuous chirping of crickets and other critters alike. Wherever you were, it was secluded.

“Okay, stay right there. Don’t move.” Duncan commanded, patting you once on the shoulder before leaving your side.

You heard four electronic pings and the whoosh of a door swinging open like he was hitting buttons on a keypad. Where the fuck were you?

Duncan’s hands were back on your arms in a moment’s notice, guiding you over the threshold of the door he had just opened.

“Watch your step.”

Immediately, the smell of fresh wood and chemicals filled your nostrils. Yours and Duncan’s steps echoed loudly throughout the space as he continued to lead you; the harmony of the various sounds of the outdoors no longer present.

“You ready?” Duncan asked, speaking low into your ear, the stubble of his beard just barely ghosting over the nape of your neck.

“Been ready since you blindfolded me an hour ago, Dunc.” you fired back.

Duncan was too tired to comment on any more of your whining, he just chuckled lightly in response, pressing a kiss to your temple over the thick material of the tie.

Antagonizingly slow, his fingers worked at the knot. He knew what he was doing, pissing you off even more by dragging it out. Duncan could feel the way you froze in your spot, your chest barely moved with each breath and your hands were frozen at your side; indicating your skyrocketing anxiety. He was nervous too, but you weren’t currently in the position to be able to notice the way his heart looked like it was going to beat out of his chest.

The tie fell from your eyes, ribboning to the ground and pooling around your feet. And then you saw it.

The ceilings had to have been at least twenty feet high. The walls were stark white, the one at the far end covered almost entirely with a seamless, glass window. There was a grand staircase in the middle, leading to a breezeway that overlooked the space you were currently standing in. You put it together. You were in a house, and a fucking huge one at that.

Nothing occupied the space. No furniture, no art hanging on the wall, not a single indication that anyone even lived here. It was empty.

“Duncan, where are we?” you asked, too entranced by your surroundings to turn around and look at him as you spoke.

He came around to your side, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

“Home.”

You broke away from his hold to look directly into his eyes, unconvinced that he’d just said what you thought you heard.

“What?” it came out as barely a whisper.

Duncan nudged his head forwards, prompting you to follow him. He paced himself, creeping along against the marble tile. You were further into the house now, catching new details you weren’t able to see from the front door. No words were spoken, just Duncan steering you throughout the first floor with his hands crossed behind his back. There was a kitchen, a kitchen at least three times bigger than the one in Duncan’s apartment with a double oven and appliances that looked far too advanced than anything you’d ever seen. Connected to the space was what would be a dining room, big enough for a table that could seat at least twelve. Duncan stopped just as were standing in front of the ginormous, granite island resting in the center of the kitchen.

“You made a comment a couple months back,” Duncan began, turning to face you.

“Something about how my closet was getting cramped because of how many pairs of shoes we both had. It got me thinking. I’m older now. Got a good head on my shoulders. I‘ve got you. Why am I still living in an apartment like a twenty-something bachelor? So I started looking at houses. And then I found this one. I was gonna wait until the renovations were done before I told you. There’s still a couple more things they need to do upstairs and some electrical work here and there, but other than that it’s basically finished. You looked really happy tonight, and it made me not want to wait any longer so....here we are. Happy graduation, I guess.”

You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek, too busy staring at Duncan to register the buildup in your tear ducts. He looked at you like he always did when he professed his feelings to you, with genuine, whole-hearted, adoration. With love.

“This is our house?”

“This is our house.,” Duncan confirmed, a confident smile on his face.

“I even made them put in a bigger tub ‘cause I know important bathtime is to you. And the closet is extra roomy. But if it’s not enough, you can just use one of the many spare rooms for all of your things. I know I tend to go a bit-overboard-with my gift-giving.”

A silent laugh escaped your chest, huffs of air expelling from your mouth each time.

“Duncan Shepherd, I love you.”

“And I love you, Y/N Y/LN. I can’t wait to live here with you.”

He brought you in for a kiss, cupping your cheeks in both hands as his lips melted into yours. You broke away in a smile, shifting your way out of Duncan’s grasp to look once more at what looked like the abyss that you would soon call home.

“Can you see it?” Duncan spoke up as your eyes wondered. “A giant sectional back by that room we first saw when we walked in, a dining room table over there. Black obviously. Maybe some plants over by the windows.”

And you could. You could see it. Duncan’s weird art hanging on the walls in the entryway, both of your cars parked side by side in the driveway you assumed was wide enough to back a bus into given what you were already looking at. It already felt like home, despite being an empty shell of one.

In your trance, you’d seemed to have missed when Duncan walked up behind you, pressing his chest against your back. His hands had started at your waist; rubbing soft, soothing circles against your hips bones. Inch by inch, he ever so slowly trailed his fingers up your body towards your chest, where they were now purchased just below the swell of your breasts.

“I can see you in here,” Duncan started, his hot breath fanning over your collarbones, littering your skin with goosebumps. “Standing in this very spot. Making breakfast in your underwear. Those cute, little pancakes you like to make on Saturday mornings-”

“They’re crepes, Duncan. You know that.” you snickered, burrowing further into his arms and his touch.

He kissed the sweet spot along your jawline, knowing all too well the reaction he’d get out of you. A soft gasp blooming from your lips halted you from speaking any longer. You were suddenly reminded of where you left off back at Duncan’s apartment. Already feeling the stirring in your abdomen at the thought.

Duncan leaned forward with you still in his grasp, laying his elbows flush with the granite slab of the island. He moved his kisses from your neck to your shoulders, and then to your back just at the top of your spine.

“Do we have neighbors?” you questioned, certain that anyone could see the two of you through the ginormous window. The lights were on and the house was empty, meaning your bodies stuck out like sore thumbs. It wouldn’t take a genius to catch onto what was happening. You already knew where this was going, especially since you could feel Duncan hardening against the backside of your thigh.

“Not yet. They’re building another house down the street, but even then it’s still about a quarter of a mile away,” he answered in between pressing kisses on your jugular. “Plus trees. And hedges. No one can see us, babe.”

“Good, because I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

In seconds you felt the bone-chilling cold from the stone of the kitchen island pressed against your cheek. Duncan pressed you down on your stomach to lay as flat as you could on the granite, reinforcing you with his toned arm. Your arms splayed out at your sides, fingers spaced out pushing yourself down even further.

Duncan’s other hand reached down to the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up around your waist and resting it on your back. The warmth of his fingers caressed your ass before he withdrew them briefly to unzip his own trousers. As he freed his leaking cock from his boxers, you felt the head brush just slightly against your skin, beadlets of precum spreading across your cheeks. Duncan swiftly tugged your panties to the side, desperate to feel you against his digits.

He started at your entrance, gathering the wetness seeping from your core with his fingertips. In slow, calculated patterns, he circles his way up to your clit, the contact making you shiver. A small moan fell from your lips, finally getting the action you sought out hours ago at dinner.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping. Tell me, who is the only one that do this to you?” he asked in fake perplexion.

“You do,” you’d somehow been able to muster throughout the sea of pleasure provided to you by Duncan and his long, skillful fingers.

“It’s all for you. Every time, daddy.” you grinned against the coldness of the granite.

Duncan was content with your answer, as a low groan rumbled from his chest in response. He leaned forward once more, so his lips brushed the shell of your ear and his chest molded into your back.

“You ready for me, love?”

“Mhmm,” was all you’d managed to get out.

His fingers were replaced with the tip of his cock, swirling his member along your cunt to prepare himself for the stretch. He pressed his fingers into you once more, using the collected slick to pump himself a few times before aligning himself at your entrance.

Duncan pressed the small of your back down further against the granite, making your ass jut out instinctively to give him easier access to your dripping core. Tantalizingly slow, he pushed himself into you, savoring every inch of your walls that clenched around him with urgency. You were both breathing heavily, the melting of your bodies consuming every nerve.

Once he was fully seated inside of you, he stalled, looking down at your frame. The girl he’d managed to rope back in time after time. No matter how much he knew he didn’t deserve someone as loyal and trustworthy as you, you came back. Every time. Every night. To him. He never thought he’d find himself in this position. In his new house, with whom he was convinced was the love of his life, sprawled out on his kitchen counter at his mercy.

He leaned in once more to press a tiny, close-mouthed kiss to the back of your head before pulling himself halfway out of your drenched cunt, only to forcefully thrust himself back in again.

It felt like you had been lying there for hours. You were almost certain you’d have a dent in your cheek for a week due to how hard the side of your head was pressed into the kitchen island. Duncan ruthlessly pounded into you from behind, your cheek rutting against the granite with every slam of his hips while cries escaped from your lips. Your fingers grasped for anything, everything. He had one hand on your waist and the other wrapped almost too-tightly around the back of your neck to keep you in place, so you opted for gripping the lip of the counter as best as you could. But pearls of sweat coated your entire body, making it hard to hold onto anything for too long.

The sounds of squelching skin on skin echoed obscenely throughout the empty house. It was borderline blasphemous. Chants of, “Oh my god,” “Don’t stop,” “You feel so good,” and plenty of profanities were peppered into the mix, only adding to the indecency of the situation.

It took some time, but you finally began feeling that familiar tingle building up inside of you, causing another rush of arousal to flow effortlessly out of your cunt. It became overbearing after a while, your desperate need to milk Duncan’s cock for all that it was worth overcoming your very existence. You chased after your release by rolling your hips backward, working in sync with Duncan to fuck you deeper and harder.

“Someone’s eager. Am I not giving you enough, little girl?” Duncan mocked through heavy breaths.

“Just go faster, please,” you begged, fighting to let pleasure take over, but you weren’t quite there yet.

“Please what? Use your manners.”

“Please, daddy.”

Duncan loosened his grip at your waist, snaking his hand around and beneath you. You felt the pads of his fingers swirl lightly over the fabric of your panties that still covered your clit, all while he continued to thrust his hips into your backside. With each cycle around your bud, he increased his pressure just slightly, drawing out moan after moan from you. The sounds falling from your lips triggered moans of his own.

When he finally slipped his hand through the front of your panties, you were overtaken by a swell of euphoria, just teetering over the edge. You abandoned your other senses, focusing solely on Duncan and the way he was working you open with his cock and now his fingers. Your eyes were screwed shut, hearing going in and out, fingers grasping for purchase around the corner of the island.

“What about now? Is daddy giving you enough now?”

You couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open, but no sound came out.

“No? Guess I’ll have to pick up the pace then.”

The feeling of Duncan vigourously massaging your swollen clit between his two fingers was enough to trigger your release. You came with a shaky scream, trembling as Duncan continued to fuck himself into you through your orgasm despite the fact that he was faltering himself. The hairs on your arms stood upright, your skin quickly becoming oversensitive to his touch.

Duncan’s hips sputtered, stilling completely as he allowed for his own release. His moans went up an octave, a sign you’d grown accustomed to recognizing as a tell-tale indicator that he was cumming. You felt his warm seed spilling deep inside of you, coating your walls as he gave your cunt a few extra pumps with his cock before slipping out of you.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, lifting you from the island and winding his arms around your waist. You could feel the dampness of Duncan’s forehead on your neck, it was cool on your fevered skin.

“Did you do that on purpose?” you asked, chuckling as you turned in his arms to face him.

Duncan smirked back at you, satisfied with your current state. You had a flat, bright red mark across your cheek from being thrown against the counter, the rest of your face flushed with an adorable, pink heat.

“Did I do what purpose?” he responded, feigning ignorance.

“Drag me all the way out here just to fuck me as loud as you wanted so no one would hear?”

His grin only grew wider, you’d caught onto his little game. He lifted you onto the island, placing you gently on the granite. Through the corner of his eye, he caught his cum dribbling down your thighs. Quickly, he caught the stream of milky, white seed on his pointer and middle fingers. He raised them to your mouth, pulling your bottom lip out just slightly with his other hand. You accepted them without hesitation, running your tongue along every centimeter of his digits. As you removed him from your mouth with a satisfied pop, he answered.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

You shook your head and laughed once more at his cockiness, grabbing him tighter and lying your head against his chest.

“I did, Donut. It surely did.”

As you stood in Duncan’s arms with your head to the side, you could just barely make out a swimming pool in the backyard beyond the windows of the dining room. It was still surrounded by dirt, meaning it wasn’t quite complete. Visions danced in your head at the memories that would be made beyond those french doors.

You couldn’t wait for this place to be finished. You were ready to spend the rest of your life here with the man you’d once thought you’d never see again. The man that did exactly as he’d promised:

He’d taken care of you. And he always would.

Tagging:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @venusxxlangdon @ccodyfern @michaellangdong@michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @wroteclassicaly @omg-hellgirl@aveiangdon @belusima @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies@langdonsdemon @ticklish-leafy-plant @michaelfuckinglangdon@fpsjacket @mother-tequila @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonshell @coloursunlimited

#duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd smut #michael langdon x reader #jim mason x reader #hoc #ahs #mine #my writing

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actualbird · 7 years ago

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ummmm its not That Personal but like uh. u write a lot, like a lot and i notice that ur also. depressed? and im depressed too and i like to write but i just cant figure out how to like. sit and write for a while. actually get something done idk if thats something u have any advice for i would Appreciate It

oh! okay well. hum. i have to admit that most of my writing habits that push me to do stuff like write 7k words in a day are actually p…unhealthy? to the self? so i’ll skip over those and give u stuff i do that isnt Bad because my god, we gotta look out for each other:

the absolute beginning of writing a piece starts with ideas and concepts, and i have a google doc filled with bullet points of ideas. this doesnt really have anything to do with the Sitting Down And Writing Bit, but it’s super helpful for when you’re in a funk. just. any idea you think of, no matter how dumb, jot it down. in my bmc idea list i have a bullet point that’s just “they are spies” and another thats even dumber that just says “anti-anxiety rice”. these reservoirs of silly ideas help me out a bunch.

this is something that really depends on you, bc people have differing opinions on this, but i write outlines!!! and it’s something that i find very helpful. i was basically trained to outline everything throughout high school, to the point that i cant even write a 500 word essay without one. outlines differ for everybody, but i find that it’s most helpful for me to write out 1) important details (ex. in my latest fic, i listed down all the dragon characteristics i wanted to give michael) and 2) all the main scenes (ex. in my latest fic, i wrote one sentence for each of the eight main scenes). outlines are really good because you’re getting your ideas out in a tangible form that starts to take shape, but it’s not the Heavy Stuff Just Yet. it’s a nice way to ease yourself into the writing mood, and it’s godsend for when youre already writing because, once youve got all your ideas and plot points out, all you have to do is write the words.

of course, that’s kinda the hardest part HAHA. sitting down and Doing The Thing is a chore hhhhhh. but practice helps you get through it easier and easier each time, i guess. 4 years ago i was writing tiny fics that were barely 1k long and took me a week to write. now i am here. it’s cliche advice everybody gets, but it’s because it’s Real: practice. practice. practice. depression is a big heavy sludge that stops you from doing everything, but if you make something a habit, it tends to become muscle memory. if you can, try to write something everyday. it doesnt have to be big! just a sentence or two. even just a few ideas. just write something. then keep on working your way up. when youre confident with the daily habit, maybe set a wordcount goal. like 100 words a day. or maybe 500 a week (that was my goal back when i had class. it’s a nice, lax goal that doesnt feel too daunting but still gets stuff done!) start small and work your way up!! as somebody who marathon writes shitloads of words in a day, it’s draining. setting a schedule with smaller, broken down increments is much, much better.

my laptop is Really Weird And Probably A Bootleg, so i dont have msword or any word processor that can count words correctly sdhfkjsdhf. so i write on google docs and i use wordcounter.net . wordcounter is a really useful site for me because not only does it display your wordcount WAY HUGER THAN MS WORD WOULD, thus kinda putting it Out There how much youve got written, but it’s also got cool stuff like reading time and reading level and word density (word density saves my life every fic. it makes sure i dont make characters fukn shrug all the time lmao)

my kamikaze mode, aka what i do when i start and finish writing the bulk of a fic or a chapter in one day, goes a little bit like this: heavy breakfast. write write write. more food. write write write. nap. food. write write write. +various twenty minute breaks in between all the writing. frankly, i dont know how i do this because it passes mostly in a haze, but breaks are!!!! important!!!!!!!!!!! i cannot stress this enough. your eyes are gonna hurt like hell after staring at a screen for hours. your WRISTS are gonna ache. your neck!! your butt!!! if you dont take a break, u will turn into a gargoyle!!! trust me, okay, ive already turned into one once. wasnt great. drink water and stretch and walk around. if you dont wanna separate from ur laptop, at least stop writing and look at memes or read over what u have so far.

when youre actually writing, my philosophy is Never Edit. misspelled a word? mark with an asterisk and come back later. forgot a word? mark it with an asterisk and come back later. transition is wonky? dont fix it, keep writing. mark it with an asterisk and come back later. editing is important, but when youre in the Writing Groove is not to the time to do it. more often than not, editing becomes an excuse that hinders your wordcount progress under the thin veil of “hmmmm this could be better.” it sure could! but fix it later. when im writing, my only goal is to get it done. everything else comes later, because at least by that point, i have a full piece to fix instead of a scene i keep reworking over and over again. the momentum that results from this is Powerful and not even the Depression Sludge Monster That Lives On A Couch In My Brain can defeat it. get fucked DSMTLOACINB!!!!

this is barely coherent, but it’s all ive really got to say….all of this is completely subjective, and what works for me will not work for everybody else, but this is how do stuff. depression is an awful piece of fuck and it sucks so bad and im so sorry youve gotta deal with it, but yo, working past it is possible!! it’s hard, but it’s possible.

i hope you have a great day anon. kick depression in the nuts with ur kickass writing.

#asks #anon #long post

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wtf-taeyong · 8 years ago

Text

Guardian Angel - Part 4 - Jimin angst

I’m thinking about making this AU a series? Like, all of the members have their own stories with their charges and references to other members? What do you guys think lmao

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 ____________________

“Go on another date with me.” Jimin said, cutting off your speech about how he should confess to Mina.

“What- Another- Jimin- This was a date?”

“I said it was a date, didn’t I?”

“I thought you were joking!”

“No. I’ve never been so serious about anything in my entire life.”

You stared at him in shock across the table, and he met your gaze evenly. One, two, three minutes you spent staring at each other before you cracked and burst out laughing, dismissing this whole thing as one of his intricate jokes.

“Okay, fine. If you wanna hang out, we’ll hang out.”

“Date.”

“Hang out.”

“Date.”

“Hang out.”

“Why won’t you let me take you on a date?” Jimin burst, surprising you.

“Because you love Mina!”

“I love-”

He suddenly stopped, falling backwards so his back was planted firmly against the back of his seat as if some kind of invisible force had forcibly stopped him.

“Lay off, Jimin,” Namjoon warned, a hand resting on Jimin’s shoulder. “Ease her into it.”

I don’t have the time to lay off, Namjoon! She’s sick!

“Does she look sick? I don’t know what happened but she looks fine. You can’t rush her into this.”

Namjoon, I love her.

“I know you do, but she thinks you love Mina and isn’t going to just accept it if you confess your love in this shitty place.”

Listen-

“No, you listen to me, Jimin,” Namjoon had started using the tone of voice whenever one of the younger Guardians were playing up. Immediately, Jimin froze and fell silent. “Look at her, and look at her properly.”

You were staring at Jimin, mouth set in a kind of defiant way that he would have found annoying from anybody else but it looked so right on your face.

But your eyes.... Your eyes didn’t fit the expression on your face. They were stormy, as if you were fighting with yourself or something else. They were sad and full of happiness and they were so beautiful, Jimin didn’t think he had ever looked into them for so long before.

“Just… Leave her alone for a while. You can’t rush these things. Whilst you know she’s yours, she’s still just a human. She won’t understand if you’re suddenly all over her.”

Jimin sighed, long and resigned.

Fine.

“So…” Jimin said, feeling slightly embarrassed from his seemingly random near-exclamation of love. “Do you wanna go do something else? I’m free all day.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything!” Jimin said. “Let’s do something fun!”

Three weeks passed in a similar fashion and suddenly, Jimin was a constant in your life. He was everywhere that you went and usually, that would have annoyed you, but it was different with Jimin. You liked it.

The two of you did everything together. You went shopping (or, rather, attempted; most of the time was spent dressing Jimin up in the ugliest clothes you could find) and would go for coffee and spend hours in the café just chatting until it went dark. You would have your normal movie nights every Saturday evening but he had started to stay over and the two of you would make pillow forts in the living room and sleep downstairs on the floor together.

“What are the plans for today?” Jimin asked, coming out of your ensuite bathroom and flopping onto your bed, hair dripping water everywhere.

“Jimin! Why are you like this,” You whined, pushing him away from you slightly when he tried to rub his soaked hair all over your clothes. “Mina just text me, actually.”

His body froze up and he closed his eyes, lips moving in a fast prayer.

Has she told you?

“She said that we hadn’t hung out in forever and we should all meet up. How about it?”

No!

“Yeah, sure. What is she suggesting?” Jimin asked, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

“She didn’t specify, but I want to go to the cinema. That new film came out today that I was telling you about the other day!”

He sat up, using the towel that he had previously draped across the back of his neck and scrubbing his hair furiously.

“Sweet, good idea. Look online for movie times and I’ll go and get ready. Tell her the plans.”

With that, Jimin disappeared back into your bathroom to look for the hairdryer.

Usually he left his hair to dry naturally because it was better for it and his hair felt like straw anyway, but Jimin wanted to get ready as fast as possible. No time for air drying now.

“There’s a showing at two!” you called from your bedroom and Jimin smiled despite himself. You sounded so excited, how could he not find that adorable?

“Okay, good! I’m driving.”

“Should we pick up Mina on the way?”

Jimin almost dropped the hairdryer as he lifted it up to his head. It had only been about a minute and he had already forgot that this was a group outing with Mina. It was like fate was throwing a cruel reminder of his grave mistake into his face.

In all honesty, however, Jimin would take that cruel reminder and all of the guilt that came with it a thousand times over if it meant that you were in perfect health like you had been since that night.

“Sure, whatever.” Jimin replied to you, before turning on the hairdryer.

He didn’t want to pick Mina up. He didn’t want to hang out with Mina, or see Mina, or even be near Mina. She was the personification of the hate that Jimin had for himself and whilst he had nothing against Mina personally, he hated the mere thought of her.

How could he have possibly thought that she was the one for him? How could he have been so goddamn ignorant?

“Blasphemy, Jimin”

“I don’t give a God fucking shit, Namjoon.” Jimin hissed through his teeth, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the sound of the hair dryer.

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Like you don’t know. You’re always listening to whatever I’m doing.”

“Well, I have to give it to you, yours is one of the most interesting cases I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” Jimin gritted his teeth, running his hands through his hair with perhaps too much strength and winced when he tugged painfully at the roots.

Namjoon was silent, just watching the younger boy try not to have a breakdown whilst drying his hair. To anybody else watching, Jimin would look like he was just being unnecessarily dramatic about his hair, but even to Jungkook, who literally could not care about Jimin’s problems on top of his own with his charge, Jimin’s case was worthy of attention. And, surprisingly, perhaps for the first time in his entire existence, Namjoon was at a loss with what advice he could give. Jimin was, quite literally, entirely on his own with this.

He finished with his hair and quickly patted some BB cream across his face so he didn’t look quite as shit as he did before, and then he returned to your room where you were just finishing up on your eye makeup.

You turned to face him when he came out of your bathroom and smiled at him fondly, the sight of your joy making his heart tug painfully. Sighing long and hard, Jimin flopped back down onto your bed and groaning dramatically.

Laughing, you went to sit next to him and smacked him really hard on the ass. “Stop whining. I thought you’d be happy to see Mina!”

He groaned again, deep in his throat, at your obliviousness. He had never considered it before but perhaps you were dim?

“Actually, thinking about it, we haven’t spent any time with her at all for the last few weeks…” You sounded troubled by this thought, so Jimin sat up and took your wrists into his hands, then proceeded to stare into your eyes with as much sincerity as he could muster.

You looked at him bewilderment, wondering what he was about to say that was worthy of such a build up, but all he said was;

“Good.”

“Oh for God’s sake- Park Jimin!” you scolded him, smacking him lightly on the chest and shoving him away. He whined loudly again, pressing his face into your pillow and you smacked his butt again. He laughed despite himself. “If you get makeup all over my bedding again, I’m going to murder you myself.”

He turned over and watched as you flung your wardrobe open. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed, what does it look like?”

“But you’re already dressed?” Jimin questioned, watching as you rifled through the dresses you owned. “You hate wearing dresses?”

“I know, but I have to look somewhat decent next to Mina,” you said casually. “I can’t go out with her dressed like this, I might as well have come out of the sewer if I stand next to her looking like this.”

Outraged, Jimin leapt off the bed and placed a firm hand on the door of your wardrobe, shutting it sharply.

“You look perfect literally all the time Y/N, what the hell are you talking about?”

Blushing slightly at his comment and sudden proximity, you just shrugged. “She’s so much prettier than I am. I need to at least-”

“No, she isn’t,” Jimin said, reaching suddenly and placing a hand on the back of your neck and guiding your face so you were staring directly at him. “You are so, so beautiful that it makes my heart hurt. What your wearing now is perfect- actually, I love it more than anything else you’ve ever worn.”

It was true, Jimin was quite taken to the fact that you were wearing one of his shirts and just some ripped skinny jeans. It was just the right level of casual that suited you so well and he’d be damned if anybody, even yourself, thought that it wasn’t good enough.

“But-”

“No buts,” Jimin said, turning away from the wardrobe and settling on your bed again. “Except for yours maybe, It’s really cute.”

“Jimin!” you gasped, rushing to the bed and grabbing one of your cushions to smack him around the face. He stood up quickly to dodge your weapon, and as he stood up he pulled you down by your arm. As you went flying back down onto the bed, your free hand swung up to grab onto his sweater and you yanked him down ontop of you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

The two of you lay there in shock, his mouth dangerously close to yours, and the two of you stared at each with no movement to get away from this compromising position.

His breath blew over your face and he had never, ever, been this close to you before. You could see every detail of his skin, every colour in his eyes that you adored so much, and you could have sworn he inched ever so slightly closer. His lips, so luscious that you caught yourself staring at them, pressed together before they parted again and this time the way he moved closer was noticeable. He inched closer and closer to your lips and yours parted in preparation and he was so close you could almost taste him-

Your phone rang.

Cursing loudly, Jimin all but leapt off you and the way he was so eager to get away from you stung slightly, but you shook it off as you reached for your phone.

It was just Mina.

Shaking your head, you answered your phone and walked out of your bedroom; seemingly just to take the call, but your cheeks were burning, in embarrassment at the position the two of you were in, and hurt that he had all but ran away from you.

Did he not see you like that? Did he think you were unappealing, and that was why he jerked away from you so fast? Did he not want to kiss you? Because you sure as hell wanted to kiss him.

In your bedroom, Jimin was running his hands through his hair frustratedly, ruining the perfectly done hairstyle. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t even know if you liked him, how could he dare to put you in that position and all but force himself onto you? He was ashamed of himself and his cheeks were burning in embarrassment. How could he look at you after he had behaved like that?

Sighing, he messed up his hair again before returning to the bathroom to take a breather and fix the mess on top of his head.

He would calm himself down and then act like nothing happened. If you wanted to talk about it, Jimin would talk about it, but he didn’t want you to be embarrassed because of his hasty actions.

It wasn’t right to act like that. He should have asked permission, he should have made it much more romantic, he should have-

“Jimin? Mina is ready, we can go and get her and get something to eat if you want?”

Great. You didn’t want to be alone with him anymore.

What had he done? ______________________

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

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