the grabber x reader imagines,smuts and one shots from Tumblr

chapter two<3

Warnings; kidnapping and marijuana use

THIS STORY IS NOT MINE THE CREDITS WILL BE AT THE END

enjoy:)
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Staring at the streetlights you did your best not turn your attention just to the left. If you did there was a risk you may see your next door neighbor, a pleasant dread settled in the pit of your stomach at the thought. Albert was by no means a classic man but he tickled something inside you. The lilt of his voice and the odd turn of phrases that seemed so out of place in the supposedly groovy times were you living. Even his magic tricks managed to bring a smile to your face, even if they weren't always the most successful. You still had the bundle of dead flowers tucked away in the linen closet, something you'd never admit. For all the ways he made you feel there had always been a barrier there. Something that stopped the determined stride most men, including his brother, would've taken forward at this juncture of the friendship and his unwillingness to made you quite sure that was where the friendship ended. It was fun to think about, reefer cigarette in your hand while you pondered what life could be like if you found yourself at home just next door.

"Little late," comes his voice, appearing out of the shadows at the base of the stairs.

Once or twice you had thought to point out that he to was out late and that was cause for just as much suspicion as your recreational activities. But that would ruin the moment and you found more and more that each one spent with Albert became precious to you. So instead you smiled, exhaling slowly with a slow nod.

"I couldn't sleep," you answer as honestly as it can, your feelings can stay where they are along with your nightmare, inside, "Figured this might help."

"You can't sleep a lot," he noted, taking a step up the stairs, something he hadn't done in the few months you'd been having these late night meetings, "Why, why is that?"

"Why can't you?" You're quick to shoot back, watching him climb the stairs until he stood just in front of you.

He seemed different like this. He loomed, seeming to bring all the darkness with him. The lamps flickered and all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to open the front door. Bathe him and the world with light. He leans forward and you can smell him, a deep breath rather than stolen on the wind. Clean, soft like laundry. It's pleasant. Until it isn't

Acrid. It's the only word that comes to mind. It sticks to your nose, coating your throat when you desperately try to breath in. It just gets worse, more than tears burn your eyes and all you feel is dizzy. The world starts to fade, a chemical haze that blocks out the world. All but a fading apology.

You didn't normally stir. He knew this about you. He knew a lot of things about you. He had to, of course. He's sure that was the reason. At least to start. But you were kind and soft. You slept so deeply. Not a care in the world. Not even a nightmare it seemed. Until here. Now. But he has to remind himself it would be different. The hardest hit you've taken to your system is a beer shared along side a joint. Something you'd told him once when he'd caught you just like he had tonight, mouth full of smoke in the dead of night on your front porch just next door to his. He wish it didn't have to hurt. Didn't have to learn. But he had to be sure. Not just know but truly believe all of that care could be for him. You could love him, make him soft. That's all he needed. Right?

He has to keep saying it to avoid looking at your bare legs, how everything hides just beneath the hem of an oversized t-shirt. A brief flash of white shows him panties and nothing more. His mouth waters, his neck tenses, and he has to remind himself it isn't supposed to be about that. It's about something else right? Or had the line blurred somewhere. He can always remember where it started with you, where the tenuous friendship ended and the obsession began. With your kindness, the kind that reached your eyes. The way you made time for those around you, even Max. Who you reminded to sleep, to eat. The discovering that whatever power allowed him to see the broken children, you held it too. But there was no darkness. You gave them smiles, lied to parents. If someone like you had been around...

The man sitting at the end of the bed exists between Albert and whatever being he became behind the mask. And maybe you fall somewhere in that place with him. It can't be all sunshine and magic tricks. He's seen you sit there, when all the world is asleep, silent tears streaking down your face. What for? He's never known, just that he's always been too scared to ask.

His groan echoes around the mask, vibrating his ears, it would've been a distraction any other time, a reminder of flying thought Lassing through his mind. Instead it rouses you. Lips dry, smacking, back of your wrist flying to your eyes, legs rubbing against each other. It's gentle, a slow waking. Not like his own. Full of a desperate need for air, a reminder that the violence that scratches his mind is in the past for him. Forever? He hopes. Once your eyes open it's all so fast. Your heel pushes you backward across the mattress when your eyes open, skating violently to his own. He's so happy you know it's him even if it terrifies him that it might change everything. He forces a wave through the crashing waves of his thoughts, almost whimsical with no mouth to define it. Just his eyes, full of question and hope. Pain at your confusion, the way you shake your head and wipe your hand across your face.

"You're him," and he knows what you mean, he's seen the words plastered across the headlines, "But-" shaking your head trying to reconcile a list of victims and the man you'd come to know, "This is a mistake."

"Nooooo," it's the first word he manages, a sing song that's meant to calm your both, somehow, "Not a mistake. How could you be?" climbing to his feet, eyes trained down on you.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, he tries not to think about what it might feel like against his own just as hard as you try to speak, "What're you going to do to me?"

"Nothing," shaking his head quickly, taking a skip backward with his hands clasped behind his back as if to prove the point exactly,"Well," drawing out the word and watching your eyes widen ever so slightly, "Nothing that you won't ask for."

He can feel you desperate to ask what he means, hearing you call out when he slams the metal door closed. It takes everything in him to breath, to keep himself on the other side of it all. Would you figure out? Next time he walked into that room what would happen? Who would he be? The racing thoughts make his heartache beat faster while it aches desperately.

"Food," he mumbles to himself, taking the first stair then the second, "You'll need food."

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Credits to:
darkestamralime