Soothing Brahms - Tumblr Posts
The title of your work "pretty boy" reminded me of beautiful boy the song, imagine a hurt/comfort where brahms is reminded of his traumas and how his face was distorted into something people are consistently afraid of but m/gn reader comforts him and calls him his beautiful boy while big spooning brahms and carding your fingers thru his hair.
Aaaa đ the title actually I got inspirated from the song, but this is so cute, I feel the urge to right it â¤ď¸ sorry it took me a couple of days to answer đĽš

Beautiful Boy

WG: Hurt/confort, angst
Brahms couldnât stop watching himself on the dusty old mirror he had on his made up bedroom in the walls. Itâs like the furniture was calling for him. Big and a little bit redish his scar was showing, and thatâs what he couldnât stop seeing. He hated it so very much, that he wishes he could just tore that part of his face apart. His other side of his face was okay, could be kissed and touched, and somewhere deep down inside of him, perturbed him as well. Cause, who would find him attractive with a face like his? Who would want to kiss him? Or even see him without his mask? It tore him apart every time he thinks about it.
No one is gonna ever love me like thisâŚ
Of course he was wrong, cause you came along and to his surprise you stayed. Not only cause you wanted to, but because you found Brahms fairly attractive. At first he thought you were lying that you were saying such nice things to calm him down and to keep him in line, but you werenât. A burning scar wasnât gonna stop you from loving this man. Everything about him caught your attention and you were interested enough to spend time with him.
You caught him in the act of watching himself. Touching his âbad sideâ with one of his hands, you could swear you heard him sobbing.
âWhatâs wrong Brahms?â You asked politely.
âOh..i-itâs nothing sweetheart.â He stated, trying to cover the mirror. But it was too late for that, you already saw him staring into it.
âCome on Brahms, what is it?â You insist, knowing that eventually he would give in and tell you.
âItâs just thatâŚI guess I canât really believe that actually somebody wants me, having my face like-â You didnât let him finish when you finish the sentence for him.
âLike what? Burnt?" You asked.
"YesâŚ" This poor young man, you thought. You were always assurring him that you love him no matter what. Even so, it seems he still didnât quite believe you did.
Itâs not like you mind reminding him that you care deeply for him. After all it was true. What started as days became weeks, and then months and you no longer could tell how many time you spent with him already. But you were not leaving, not any time sooner.
âI love you Brahms, just the way you are. I wouldnât change anything about you.â You approach him and hold his face in your hands, your left thumb caressing his burnt side tenderly. He looked at you as saying âyou mean it?â
âI mean it babeâŚâ You smiled down at him, he hold you close to him and hugged you. His face resting against your bellybutton.
âI love you sweetheart, very deeply.â He said.
âMe too, Brahms.â You tangled your fingers in his hair and pet it.
It was already late and the bed time stroke as always. You took Brahms to his bed and kiss him goodnight as always, and proceeded to lay down next to him, big spooning him to sleep.
âYouâre my beautiful, beautiful boy, BrahmsâŚâ You whispered to him while carding your fingers thru his hair, soothing every doubt he could have about his appearance away.
