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Bones And All

Lee:

Passenger: Lee would follow you to the ends of the earth. A night he thought he was showing you just how much he loves you has to be reevaluated when he understands the pain you've been put through in the past.

(Romance/Smut/Fluff)

Heyo Panko Shrimps!

It's been a hot minute since I've updated everyone with what's going on and what I have for new releases. I miss you all so much and I'm so sorry for my inactivity, I have been so busy with college.

Everything has been going great!! I've made so many friends and have gone to so many parties, I haven't had the time to get to writing. However, there will definitely be more to come.

I love you all so dearly and thank you for being so patient! Lady Luck part two should be coming soon!

Together Forever

Paring: Tate Langdon X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, mentions of a corpse, yandere behaviors on Tate's part, angst, threats made against people ⚠️

"You died crying. I held you. You were safe. You died loved."

Tate held you while your shoulders shook from sobbing. You had just caught a glimpse of the body that laid in the basement; limbs contorted and bent out of shape. It's mouth gaping open and eyes rolled into the back of it's head; maggots and worms crawling in and out of it's ears. The sight was entirely gruesome and you felt the sudden urge to vomit. That couldn't be you. There's no way that was you. You couldn't have overdosed on those pills you only took a couple!

Suddenly Tate's arms felt heavy and intrusive. They felt as though they were holding you down to the spot, forcing you to look at the sight below. Yes, that was it. It was Tate's fault since he was the one who dragged you down here!

You pushed Tate off of you and made a run for the stairs. He stayed for just a moment before he went after you shouting your name. You ignored him and turned the corner from the kitchen to the foyer without so much as giving him a second look. You tried to make it to your room but saw that Tate was blocking your way.

"(Y/N). Please, baby. Talk to me." He slowly tried to approach you, his hand out towards you like you were some wild animal.

"Stay the hell away from me! You're a psycho!"

Tate felt his heart jerk in his chest. He was used to people calling him crazy but the last person he expected it from was you. Sweet and innocent you that held his hand when you walked around the beach. Sweet and innocent you that played with his hair while he slept on your chest. Sweet and innocent you that just called him a psycho.

"(Y/N). I know you love me. Stop acting like you don't."

"You're crazy! I should've listened to them! You fucking killed me!" You took some steps back, tears running down your face and your hand twitching at your side in panic. This was the worst anxiety attack you've ever had and the person who you usually found comfort with in times like these was currently your reason for having one. God, you should've listened when everyone said he was bad news. But you were blinded with love at the time.

"(Y/N). I would never kill you. I held you as you died. I told you how much I loved you in your last moments and I was the last thing you saw. You overdosed on those pills to stay here with me. I know you did. Why else would you do it? You're not suicidal." Tate started to get angrier with every passing minute. You weren't used to being the source of his anger and after only seeing him as quiet and reserved, needless to say, you were terrified. Terrified of what he was capable of. Terrified of what you knew he was capable of.

You had to think of something to crush him. Something to get him to leave you alone forever. You hated what he did to you. You hated the person he brought out in you. Why did things have to end up this way?

"You don't love me. If you loved me you wouldn't let me die."

Tate's eyes went dark. "What the fuck did you just say?" He yelled and the lights flickered on and off; the lampshades shook and the furniture moved away from where you two were standing. You had never seen this side of your boyfriend before.

"Stop acting like you care! Go away Tate! Go away!"

"You're all I want! You're all I have!" His hands clenched at his sides and his hair stuck to his face. He wasn't going down without a fight. You didn't want him to leave you! Why would you want him to leave you? No one has ever loved you like he has. No one would die for you like him. No one would kill for you like him.

You tried to run for your room again but Tate caught you in his arms and held you there despite your struggling. After a couple minutes of squirming around you fell limp into his side. There was no way of getting out of this. You were damned to this house now. Your parents would never be able to leave. You were stuck.

"Just give up now!" Tate pulled you in closer so he could stop your movements entirely and hold you to his chest. "Baby, please just give up."

You stopped and you let him embrace you. What was the point anyways? He would just find you again. He wouldn't let you leave now that you were with him. You belonged to him in his eyes and that wouldn't change; dead or alive.

"You were the one who took the pills, (Y/N). That was all you. But now we'll be together forever."

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

"The way it was always supposed to be, love."

The two of you sat on the floor in the middle of the room; one of you excited for the future and the other wishing they could die again.

say you love me

                until the end of the world

Announcement for my Lovely Panko Shrimps!

TOMORROW. 10:00am. BULLET TRAIN FANFICTION. PART ONE.

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𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖊

Pairing: Hannibal X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: mentions of weapons and murder, implications of sexuality, that's about it ⚠️

AN: Hey panko shrimps, it's been a while! I hope to make this account more active going into 2024 so I hope this Hannibal fic is a good ease back into writing! 💛🦐

Your feet tapped against the hardwood floor in anticipation. It had been a long time coming to actually go along with your doctor's referral to see a psychiatrist and here you were, against your initial wishes. There wasn't much to you that you didn't already know as you considered yourself to be quite introspective most of the time; yet here you were with your anxieties hopefully concealed to your best ability, and the faux smile plastered on your face to hide whatever was left over. An unsettling feeling was still in your stomach which you hoped would eventually subside.

The waiting room itself was nothing short of grand. The marble flooring and intricately carved stone walls gave the impression of perfection but hindered the possibility for any sunlight that could have potentially set you at ease. It was a cold sort of old money interior, not that you had been directly expecting anything else of the sort, just silently hoping for a more inviting atmosphere. Dressed to match the occasion (and the environment, it seems), you were wearing a knee length black skirt and a white button down top. Black tights and matching flats with your hair neatly in place made the rest of the outfit cohesive. You weren't looking to stand out, especially not to whomever your new psychiatrist was.

But oh, how fast that would change.

A few more agonizing minutes went by before the large door to your right opened up revealing a tall man seemingly in his forties with unkempt hair and jackets piled one on top of the other. Black framed glasses adorned his angular and unshaven face; almost as if they were strategically placed there to cover the large under eye bags he had. Your initial response was one of surprise and then somewhat of a let down. If a man who was supposed to aide others through their difficulties looked as if he had a million and one of them himself, what work was there he could provide?

Setting your initial judgements aside, you reach your hand out to shake his. "Y/N. You must be Doctor Lecter?" You asked in a small voice, smaller than you intended. There goes your original plan of coming across as dominant and straightforward. Guess you'll have to use another tactic to try and withhold the fact you were terrified for this meeting.

"Oh, ah no." He said, offering his hand to shake yours and then immediately after doing so, wiped his hand on his jacket. A rude gesture that didn't go unnoticed. "I'm Will Graham."

Another anxious twinge ran through your whole nervous system. Were you in the wrong room? The wrong place? The wrong building, perhaps? That's infinitely more embarrassing than anything else you could've mustered about this gathering.

Stepping slightly aside and placing his hands into his pockets, another taller figure emerged from the doorway from beside this supposed Will Graham. This man, unlike the other, immediately had you floored. Slicked back greying hair with a chiseled face that of a Danish statue paired oh so wonderfully with a black tux, pink button down and an expensive tie was the only thing that filled your vision. His eyes were piercing with a hint of some unfamiliar darkness, however, that calming sunlight you had hoped for seemed a silly request now. It was almost as if those two things, this man's eyes and the sun, could not exist within the same place as though his expression would diminish the light emitting from the solar system. You'd never found yourself so infatuated so quickly and the thought scared you but drew you in with a perplexed curiosity that you hadn't experienced yet before.

"Y/N," he smiled, reaching his hands out to hold the both of yours in a formal greeting, "I must be the man you're looking for."

You almost said yes, yes you are right there and then. His hands were cold but steady, artist's hands. You briefly remember being told of Doctor Lecter's past occupation with working in the surgical room.

"Doctor Lecter?" You asked, as if you needed to confirm. You smiled at him, forgetting your worries and your determined voice came back to you and you silently thanked Will for being the person your meekness was originally directed towards.

"Ah yes, that would be me. Please forgive me for going slightly past overtime, I was just finishing up my appointment with Mr. Graham here."

Cordial and charming. What a dangerous mixture of the two adjectives.

"I'll be out now," Will said, looking down at his phone with a poignant expression, "Jack will be wondering my whereabouts anyways."

"Then you must go," the doctor said, never taking his eyes off of you once, "wouldn't want him to worry."

You watched as Will nodded and placed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and made his way to the polished staircase leading to the exit. His disappearance almost didn't entirely register to you at all as you looked down and noticed your hands were still intertwined with the doctor's. As if he just noticed it as well, he offered up an awkward chuckle as he gently removed his hands from yours, not wiping them on his shirt as his counterpart had.

"Shall you come in?" He asked, placing the large of his back against the doorway with an invitation in the form of an outstretched hand towards the room he'd just come out of, making room for you to walk through.

"Oh uh yeah." You remembered your reasoning for being there in the first place as your senses came back to you. Let's get this over with.

• • • 💉 💉 💉 • • •

Inside, the office was massive, the marble flooring continuing into the carpeted room. A large desk loomed towards the front of the room with a decorative Turkish lamp placed atop along with various writing utensils and a laptop. A couple of chaise lounges took up residency by the furthest area of the study and were closest to the largest curtained windows you've ever seen in your life. A small table with large papers littering the top of it wasn't too far off from the designated seating arrangement and to top off the grandeur of the room itself, was a second half-story with walls lined with books.

It was as if you had stepped into some sort of museum with the way everything was spotless. Everything was clean and if it wasn't organized, it was a neat type of disorderly. What stood out to you the most was this small table of disorder with all the papers haphazardly sticking off the ends and so you went to investigate as the doctor stood a few feet behind you, watching your every move. With the slight sway of your hips and the way your hair fell, he would be amiss to not focus himself on you. It was not like him to feel this strongly, whatever this feeling was, about anyone upon first introduction yet here you were. A presence so familiar yet so foreign to him as he became mentally aroused by the thought of something that wasn't murder. Something that could captivate his interest and lure him in. Perhaps it was a good thing he'd gotten the patient referral.

Your outfit was inviting, yet not too revealing. It left him with an appetite for more yet an appreciation for the craft. The way you held yourself was one of someone who has been guarded her whole life, but has done the emotional work of opening up once more, although with caution. The slight dirt on your soles gave him enough information to know that you cared about your appearance, but not to the point where you were vain or someone who required a lot to make them happy. You were gorgeous, of course that was a given, but you came with the inner workings of a traumatic past- one that made you feel as though taking up space was a crime in itself. He was determined to rewire that thinking of yours, not just as a psychologist but as someone who could see the beauty in you.

Unbeknownst to his observation, you slid your hand carefully over the papers to see they had been drawn on in graphite. Beautiful images of anatomy danced over them in an alluring yet subtly worrisome way. The figures were beautiful, yes, but the compromised positions they were in and the sharp weapons that stuck out of their flesh had your heart skip a beat.

As if he could hear what was going through your mind, the doctor spoke up to alleviate any worries you might have. "The macabre. There is art in death and I hope to shed light on that through my drawings." He said, calm and sultry.

You heard his shoes against the floor as he made his way over to you. His cologne was sharp but not unpleasant as the scent filled your lungs, his arm just brushing yours as he looked down at his own works as if critiquing them in his mind although he was only really looking to see what your reaction would be. Would you flinch away from him after seeing these? Would you be drawn in, curious or would another wave of nervousness hit like what you had felt in the waiting room?

Instead, you look up at him, the two of you very close now. "They're lovely, I think your attention to detail is phenomenally done."

A wave of heat went down his spine. Why did it fill him with such satisfaction to hear a compliment of his work (which he knew was quite good) escape your lips? He dismissed it almost as quickly as it arose, however. He must keep things professional and he wasn't fond of the way his entire demeanor seems to have gone awry upon your arrival. It was so hard to be collected in your presence. How is that so?

Returning to his original formalities, he gestures for you to take a seat on one of the lounges, away from any implication of the monster he truly was on the inside, although his stoicism concealed it well.

You complied, respectfully making sure your skirt was correctly placed before sitting down on one of the velveteen sofas, trying your best to make yourself comfortable. Any forwardness you may have regained upon walking into the study has now left you alone, struggling to regain your composure. You tried your best to go down the list of everything making you anxious so as to tackle each problem in an efficient and healthy way, as you had been told to do from previous visits to therapists in the past.

1.) You're in a new setting.

This is something that a lot of people struggle with, you told yourself, trying to put yourself at ease and to not blame yourself too much. It'll become a familiar setting with the more meetings you have with the doctor.

2.) You're nervous about keeping up appearances.

Well, you had just met the guy and you haven't embarrassed yourself all too badly yet. You had mistaken his patient Will for him, but that was an honest assumption. You doubt he would've thought anything too much of it as it didn't seem entirely unusual.

3.) There is a very, very attractive man sitting across from you right now.

This was the one thing you weren't sure you could talk yourself down from. From the way he positioned his legs comfortably one over the other with his head rested against his palm in the armchair to the notebook he had in his lap, he was the literal definition of temptation. It was as if the devil himself were trying to get you to bite the apple and consume yourself with desire. This random invigorating feeling of lust springing up on you out of nowhere was so out of the ordinary for you. There was an undeniable tension between the two of you, yes, but this sudden satiation was seemingly preposterous.

You folded your hands in your lap and settled on looking at the floor rather than Doctor Lecter.

He cleared his throat and began to speak in that tone that drove you wild. "Would you perhaps like a drink?" He asked, innocently enough.

"Sure, as long as it wouldn't be an imposition." You say, finally mustering up the courage to look at him.

He smiled and arose from his chair to busy himself at the liquor cabinet you hadn't noticed upon first glance of the study. "Not at all, are you more of a wine or beer type of woman?"

He took off his blazer and laid it upon the backing of the chair closest to the large desk, revealing the pink button down from before. He opened the cabinet and poured himself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon before turning to face you.

"I like wine, if you don't mind." You said, offering up another one of those faux faces of confidence. You felt yourself sit up straighter in your seat.

"I hope red is alright, I'm more of a red wine enthusiast myself. Pairs well with dishes." He states, before going to pour yours and offer you the glass, which you took tentatively.

"You're a chef?" You ask.

"Yes, it's a hobby of mine," He sits down in the chair again, placing the notebook in his lap once more before he asks, "Do you have any hobbies?"

He begins to write. The session has begun.

"I'm somewhat of an artist myself." You say, staring at the page as you see his hand create the unmistakable swirls of the cursive alphabet. Of course he writes in cursive.

"Mhm." He smiles to himself, reaching for another sip of the Cabernet. "Of what medium?"

"I prefer portrait work. With pencil, I mean." You notice a lipstick mark on the side of the glass you had just used, much to your dismay. You didn't want to make his dishes any dirtier than you already would be by drinking out of them. Lipstick could be difficult to remove.

He had also noticed this too, and had silently prayed for you not to remove it. Something in him told him he would be cherishing that glass after you had left it, reveling in the dark red makeup left behind by your lips. Even your stained imprint in his dishes had a divinity to it.

You set the glass down and continued the conversation. "I also enjoy reading, so you can imagine my surprise noticing your extensive library."

"You like my library? It took quite the time to build it, much less fill it with literature of my liking."

You allowed your eyes to move around the room and take in everything you may have missed on the second floor, seeing now the ladder that was placed against the side of the balcony. You would have a field day in here.

As if reading your mind again he adds, "You're welcome to it any time you'd like."

"I- thank you, that's very kind." You say, turning to face him once more. He seemed pleased you didn't immediately turn down the offer although he wasn't quite sure where the offer had come from himself.

"Not an issue at all." He states, looking directly into your eyes now. It's a gaze you don't feel as though you'll ever recover from. It's intense and cold but somehow so inviting in a way that's more peculiar than anything else. There's a darkness behind them, despite their bright blue nature. Everything around them fades to black and it's almost as if you're so deep into them that you've traveled to an alternate dimension entirely. You feel as though you're looking right through them, not into his soul, no. But to something much darker, much more insatiable.

Snapping back into reality, you notice how close the two of you have gotten to one another. He stands up, extending his arm out to you and then pulling you up with him, wine glasses and notebooks discarded along with the conversation you two never finished. Your eyes never left each other once as you were now face to face almost chest to chest, him towering over you.

"D-doctor I-"

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at you.

"Please, call me Hannibal."

Dating Tyler Durden Would Include...

As requested by: @hyuugasmary

Just some headcannons for dating the world's most chaotic character!

⚠️ Warnings: mentions of death, sexual innuendos⚠️

Tyler Durden is a man who is very in-tune with his feelings. He doesn't deny himself the simpler pleasures of existence and knows where his priorities lie. Therefore, when he figured out he had the hots for you and realized your intellect was something he clicked with, he made you his.

Part of me thinks he was slightly forceful about it. If you had denied his request when he first popped the question, he would've done everything in his power to show you that he could be the person you needed. For example, if you're someone who cares more for physicality in a relationship, he would allow you to watch him kick ass in Fight Club. If you're someone who cares more for personality and intuition, he would focus more on showing you just how intelligent he could be. Either way, he has both looks and smarts so you'd be getting both in the end.

If you had said yes without any hesitation, he would've admired your eagerness and would show it back to you in abundance.

So now, how would you fit into your boyfriend's overarching hatred of the patriarchy and his plans for mass destruction? Simple. You would just be there to offer him support through his ideology and provide him with affection while he makes nitroglycerin. He loves your imagination and your intensity when it comes to arson and sex.

Fight Club is no different; you appreciate the way Lou's Tavern quickly becomes a safe haven for you and the boys, all of whom treat you with utmost respect. I mean, they have to considering the fact that you're their leader's love interest. They allow you to watch from outside of the circle to engage you in the activity, but will never allow you to fight since they know Tyler wouldn't allow a single scratch on your body....unless it came from him.

Tyler wants someone to be on his level of bad-assery. Sure, he wants to protect you and keep you safe but he lets you start any fight or argument just as long as he was right by your side to finish it for you. He wants someone with an internal flame and a passion for watching the world burn.

While you're staying with him on Paper Street in the early days of Project Mayhem, the Space Monkeys instantly refer to you as Second in Command. If you identify as female, you're usually met with "Mrs. Durden" whereas if you identify as a male or somewhere in between, you're met with "Mr. Durden #2."

Tyler lets you harass the newcomers on the porch saying that "you'd teach them a better lesson than I could since they'd be staring at you anyways." But still offers to beat anyone up if they glance at you in a suggestive way.

Nights with Tyler are spent hunched over pots of the latest soap mix; gagging at the smell of the liposuction bags as you pull them out from the fridge. Tyler plays his music which is something with a sharper edge to it since he is very much into the punk genre, but I also have a feeling he would also play a lot of Depeche Mode.

On the nights where he didn't desire to blow things up in the morning, he would stay with you in his room, wrapping you up in his arms and playing with your hair while you fell asleep. He would never be cold to you but he would spend a lot of time on his "homework assignments" and phoning in on the other clubs set up in different states. He would tell you what was on his mind as he thought of it, but the nights where he felt really comfortable, he would let his anxieties and insecurities show just a little bit more than usual since he trusts you not to judge him. Which you don't.

During the day, you would usually watch him in the basement of Lou's Tavern as he prepared for another club session later that evening. You would also tag along with him when he worked in the theatre while he spliced single frames of pornography into family films. You usually picked out the lewd images since the two of you would crack up when kids started to cry.

Bonus!

Patching up Tyler's wounds after an intense session of Fight Club, scolding him for going too hard and overexerting himself.

Wearing Tyler's infamous coffee mug printed robe in the mornings.

Dancing with Tyler to no music in corridors of fully populated buildings for absolutely no reason other than self amusement.

Calling your boyfriend Mr. Durden once on accident since it's all you heard on a daily basis and him laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

Both of you hating pet names but you call each other "babe." He will occasionally call you "love" but only in the bedroom or times where there's no one else around. It's not that he's embarrassed, he just likes the exclusivity.

Having him tell you about his scars while you trace over them on his bare skin, admiring every inch of the beautiful man before you.

One time you got into a fight with Angel Face (Jared Leto's character) and he pushed you. Tyler beat his face in so hard that the blonde had to use his $300 of personal burial money a bit sooner than he anticipated.

Tyler will teach his "life lessons" when you're around but he would never dream of putting you in danger. His near-life experiences are only for the times he knows you're sound asleep safe at home in his bedroom.

Tyler is just a little bit more cautious about how much trouble he really gets into, knowing that he can't die when he has you to come back to every night.

And last but not least...

Tyler wears your clothes. You saw how he dressed in the movie with his Goodwill attire? Yeah. He doesn't care much for fashion or practicality so he will 100% walk to his job as a banquet waiter in your cutoff pink shirt with a shrimp on it.

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I had a lot of fun with this one! >:)

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Netflix Subbers, I beg to differ, Moon Jo seems more the kind of man to say 'My Dear' instead of 'Babe'. I can also live with 'Darling' or 'Honey'.

My heart hurts from loving Johnny so much

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is this what falling in love feels like

Cute things that you and Johnny do

Pairing: Johnny x Reader

Warnings: Overly affectionate Johnny 😩

This man loves you with all his heart

And he finds every way possible to show you

Buys you flowers when you've had a long day at work

Gives you back massages when you're tired

Offers you his clothes when you're lonely

And buys you strawberries when you get hungry

But y'all always do really cute things to tell each other how happy you are

You sleep snuggled into his side, your face buried in his chest and his arms wrapped around you

And if you don't, he had a hard time sleeping; if he sleeps at all

You have a habit of playing with his fingers when you snuggle

And holding his hand when you walk together

Kissing each other's foreheads

Snuggling ALL THE TIME

Johnny is a snuggler

So he always finds a way to hold you, whether you're out, if you're at home, if you're asleep, you name it

He's very comfortable with PDA

In fact, he gets confused when sometimes you're shy about your relationship around other people

You tell him it's just because you haven't been in a relationship for a while

He understands, and you eventually get used to Johnny's means of affection

Talking walks through forests under trees and watching the water

It's always like something out of a fairytale

And he manages to pack a lunch for the two of you; apple and ranch sandwiches

You wipe off the extra ranch that dripped on his chin

He gets slightly embarrassed, he's used to doting on you, not so much the other way around

When it's time for bed,he wraps you up in your shared giant duvet

And he carries you to the bedroom zoo wee mama

And he puts on your TXT sleep playlist to help you drift off peacefully