Tehehehhe Thanks For Tagging Me!!!

Y o u n g L o v e

Pairing: Tate Langdon X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: none ⚠️

Listen to this song while you read:

You slipped into the cold black sheets that adorned your mattress as you prepared yourself for sleep. It was an autumn night and you were ready to fall asleep listening to the rain patter against the glass of your bedroom window. The red panes cast an eerie glow over everything and made your room illuminated in the color. There was something soft and beautiful about it; something you couldn't put your finger on that made you feel as though you were safe and comfortable. Ironically, you were living in a house full of ghosts.

But they were not bad.

Your head hit the pillow and your eyes met the ceiling. It had only been a month since you've moved into the infamous Murder House, yet you were content. The house may have been old and the people may have been rude, but you found yourself here. And you were grateful.

"Hey."

You felt the bed dip next to you and you moved over to the left side to make room for Tate as you participated in your nightly routine. His hand met your back as your face met his chest, your hands reaching up to play with his hair. This is where you felt the safest. Surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and the cashmere of your boyfriend's sweater. The feeling of a now warm bed and the arms resting delicately over your frame. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

Tate kissed you softly on the head; the rain crashing against your window as the storm's intensity increased. Thunder rolled in and made the quiet house alive with the noise of the sky and the universe above. And amongst it all; you were holding your favorite part of the universe in your arms. His short breaths hitting the top of your head and the sound of his heartbeat resonating through his chest signifying that he was both comfortable and in love.

"Hey. Enjoying the rain?" You softly asked him.

He smiled and let out a short laugh. "Of course I am."

He moved your hair out of your face so that he could look you in the eyes. Tate has done a lot of bad in this world. He wasn't always the sweet and loving person you knew him as today. There was a time when his name brought people fear and pain instead of admiration and peace. You were lucky to know him now; you had gone most of your life thinking that people could never change but here he was. Living proof that people aren't always what they seem.

"I love you so much." He said as his gaze met yours. "And I wouldn't trade you for the world." He planted another kiss to your forehead before smiling down at you once more in his arms. In his mind, that's exactly where you belonged, even though there were times where he didn't believe he deserved to have you there. Times when he was alone and found his thoughts drifting to you as they usually did. Times when he saw you leave the house and remembered that you were very much alive. That you still had things to do and people to meet and experiences to have. He felt so selfish for keeping you to himself sometimes knowing that the house was all he could offer you besides from himself. And it crushed him.

As guilty as he felt, having you here tonight made all of his negative thoughts disperse. What had he been so nervous of? Why had he originally fought against the idea of loving you when he first saw you move in? Why had he tried to avoid every attempt of contact you made? Why did he try to convince you that your feelings for him were invalid because you didn't know the truth? It was only when you did find out and you agreed to continue loving him that he let his walls come crashing down.

You still loved him despite his past and the people he's hurt. You still offered to be here and to hold him on nights like these where the loneliness oftentimes took over. You still wore his sweaters and snuggled with him when he felt anxious. You still danced to Nirvana even though it wasn't your taste in music. You still wanted him. And that was more than he could ever ask for.

"Are you okay?" You asked, reaching up to touch his face.

"I'm absolutely perfect."

Lying there, you both fell asleep holding each other and letting the rain drown out the sound of your hearts beating for young love.

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'.

a dilf is not a dilf if he’s shitty to his children

*In the upside down*

Eddie: So uh, if we survive this, do you maybe wanna- idk-see a movie or something?

Y/N: Are you really asking me out rn?!

Eddie: W-Well I just thought with the VERY possible chance of sudden HORRIFIC DEATH, yeah, I’ll shoot my shot.

Eddie:

Y/N:

Y/N (blushing): Pick me up at 7.

Eddie (ecstatic): *throws fists in the air*

Steve: W-What the hell is happening?!

Robin: Teenage Romance.

Hello fellow panko shrimps! I have a new fanfiction cooking up in the drafts for ya and it's gonna be a good one!!!! Let's just say it involves Yandere Kim Taehyung, Murder, and Gucci. Tehehehehe

💛🦐

he is such a tease!

Truly inspirational words.

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."

Promise pt.2

PAUL ATREIDES X READER

You were to remain on Arrakis to aid in destroying the Atreides family: a Bene Gesserit trained assassin working for the Harkonnen House. It shouldn't have been hard to kill The Duke Leto's son with your Crysknife, however, love can be messier than blood.

The summery orange sky cast long shadows against the wooden floor, the sun illuminating the sands and everything within the castle as it set across the Arrakis sky. It was warm and comforting, but a reminder of the scorching heat of the outside. Looking out to the distance from the corridor window, one could see the crevices left by the sandworms in their wake; the earth caving in where they had dug through.

Walking Paul through what was once the Harkonnen House, you noticed things about the place that you hadn't before now that you had time to walk around for yourself. For instance, the way the stained glass windows of the downstairs cathedral style rooms created patterns against the ceilings and made everything a rainbow color. Or the way your shoes made noises against the freshly polished wood of certain areas within the home whereas they didn't on the smooth stone. There was a slight breeze that filled the hallways and flew strands of Paul's hair out of his eyes and all around his face. His eyes were a piercing grey-blue with an intensity in them today that you haven't seen in a while. His chiseled features were set in a frown as he glanced about the hallway, looking in any direction other than the one you were in. It was irritating.

"Something on your mind, sir?" You asked the tall boy next to you, awaiting a response.

"I thought I mentioned that we could drop the formalities between us?" He said in a short and curt tone. What was with him today? What had put him in such an agitated mood since leaving the dining hall?

"Forgive me Paul." You said obviously starting to get firey with every word that managed to escape your lips. Why is he being such a..... What did he call it the other day again? Bitchass?

He let out a puff of air and the expression on his face calmed a little. "I apologize for the abruptness, I just came back from an interesting conversation with my father."

His father! You hadn't caught a glimpse of him since the Atreides family had moved in. Always busying himself with the plans to harvest the spice and to keep the Fremens at bay, he was almost invisible.

It was getting harder and harder to accomplish your mission.

"Your father..?" You asked, leaving the conversation open for him to add his own input. If he could give any clues as to where he was or something in regards to strategies the Duke Leto shared with him in private, you might just be able to carry through with the attack before anyone got suspicious.

He pushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes and stopped dead center of the hallway, giving you a clear notion that he wanted you to pause your tour. His fingers twitched at his side and his anxiousness was evident, even through the facade he put on in front of you. You wondered why he would be carefree and heartfelt one moment and then tense and stoic the next. Was he struggling with his duty of becoming heir to the throne? Had his father mentioned something so troubling that things had gone haywire?

"I found a Hunter-Seeker today. It was in my room this morning."

The air around you suddenly felt cold. The comfort of the sunlight was no longer within the corridor as a chill ran down your spine. That wasn't a part of the plan.

"A-a Hunter-Seeker? Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure since I was almost killed." He said with a matter-of-fact tone. So this is what was stressing him.

"Did you contact anyone outside of your intermediate family? Did you talk to the guards? What did Hawat have to say about the ordeal? Is your mother-"

"Ataraxia." He held you down in place sensing your worry. Something about the way he held his palms against your shoulders calmed you down. It was a comforting touch but it could also be deadly if anyone is to see the two of you like this. You are, after all, just supposed to be a servant.

He paused a moment before you looked up at him with fury in your eyes. This isn't how things were supposed to go. You weren't told of there being another assassination attempt for the Atreides family since this was supposed to be your reconciliation with the Harkonnens. This was your ultimate approval of trust.

Maybe you were taking too long.

"Ataraxia? Why do you look angrier than me? I was the one who almost died." He pondered aloud.

Your hand went to caress the hilt of your Crysknife within your pocket to calm yourself. You were letting too much information slip through the cracks by allowing yourself to be upset over this. Paul was right.

"Forgive me. I lost my sense of place."

"It's quite alright. There's no harm in delving into one's own thoughts." He smiled with a pained expression and made a movement to carry on towards the end of the hall. You followed suit.

⏳⏳⏳

You pushed your face down into your pillow that night with an angry scowl and a menacing gaze. This was uncalled for. There was no one within the Harkonnen House that would be fit enough for your position; how could your uncle exile you to your home planet and force you to do his bidding without keeping promise of his reward? It made no sense as you were favored over Feyd-Rautha.

You turn over and stare at the ceiling above you. The maids quarters didn't have the skylight that your old room did; a place where you often found solace. It was impossible trying to sleep in the dingy and unkept room that you were expected to and instead you decided that you were angry enough to break the rules and be less cautious.

You were going to sneak back to your old room tonight.

The Atreides family hadn't used it yet to your knowledge. They had busied themselves with the other floors, being quick to set up offices and bedrooms and not having the time for much else. Hawat chose his own room and his training room on the far side of the House which left the upstairs basically uncharted. You would have to be quick throughout the halls as to not be seen, but once you had made it to the skylight room atop the roof, you would be fine for the night.

Slipping past the other sleeping maids, you made your way to the hall and slipped out the door. The night sky shone in through the many windows of the ancient building; the Arrakian moons almost as luminous as the sun. This moonlight allowed you to see as you slipped through the shadows and made your way to the staircase across from the Dining Hall. Being cautious of each step, you silently compiled yourself and your anxieties with sneaking out as you found the room with the only silver handle in the house. It had to be pushed inwards, not turned. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to enter.

The skylight was the same as you remembered and as you'd figured, there was not a box in sight. The glass dome showed the stars and the moons of your beloved planet and the galaxies far beyond which were sure to be home to many other living creatures out there. You wondered what the extraterrestrials would be like and you shivered at the thought. Slimy and green you muttered to yourself and you laid on the floor, tilting your vision up to the sky.

"Slimy and green?"

You jolted backwards upon hearing another voice within the room. Twisting your body at a weird angle, you instinctively grab at the knife in it's holster and prepare yourself for a battle.

His brown hair was all curled in awkward places; a difference than it's usual contempt state. His lounge wear hugged his body in ways that were meant to provide utmost comfort, but it was clear that the set was too big for him. His eyes shone through the dark with their familiar friendly yet motivated gaze.

"Paul," you said, lowering your guard, "you scared me."

"My apologies, I promise you that it wasn't my intention." He smiled and positioned himself to lay next to you.

"What brings you up here? I figured everyone would be asleep." You asked. It was slightly annoying having to see him everywhere and never having any time to yourself. You always had to put up a front so that you would be able to carry out your duty in the end. It gets exhausting after a while.

"Should I be asking you the same thing?" He grins again and for a split second you could've sworn that he had made a suggestive look downwards. Just as quickly as his gaze was on you, it was back to the stars ahead and his eyes shone with the luminosity of it all.

"Right. I just- found this place the other day. Thought it would look cooler if I went to see it when the sun wasn't up." You lied straight to his face for what seemed like the millionth time that day. How many more lies would you have to tell?

"I come up here occasionally to watch the stars." He said, patting the space next to him to motion you towards the spot you were originally sitting in.

You calmed down and lowered yourself towards the ground next to the boy you were meant to kill. It felt odd knowing that you were playing a nice conversation with someone who would be bloody by your hands within the next couple of days if you played your cards right. You thought about carrying his beautiful head severed from his petite frame to Vladimir and receiving your reward for pleasing him. You thought about the way he would look next to both Jessica and Leto in the horrible graves of the bodies your uncle dumped when he was done profiting off of their murders. You thought about the smell of his ashes as he burned within the ground and joined the night sky that he looked at now.

And Paul thought of you. He'd hate to admit it, but you had taken over his mind lately. Fierce and opinionated, you were a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't met anyone his age nearly as interesting as they had all been too busy with that cursed Bene-Gesserit crap that he'd been forced to learn at such a young age. You were different.

And while you thought of his blood he thought of your lips. The way they would taste against his own and if you'd even like that. He thought of the way you outshone the stars and your intelligence of the cruelties of the world. Two kids forced to grow up too fast. He felt his chest make crazy palpitations; only something that happened when he was around the erratic Ataraxia. The mysterious girl who shrouded herself in the only darkness this planet had to offer. For once, Paul was thankful they had left Caladan.

You looked so beautiful with your hair sprawled out around you and your face tilted towards the glass above. The light brought out the angles of your face so that Paul could see you in a different way; he was used to seeing your skin kissed with the orange glow of the sun and now he could see the same you but with the silver of the moon. Paul wondered if the Fremen's spice dreams were of things just as beautiful.

The timing was almost so perfect you could feel it on your tongue. One hand on your knife, your mind ran crazy with the thoughts of finally being able to kill him. With a quick stab under the ribcage, he would be gone in moments. It would be too difficult of a wound to heal medically, and while he was gasping for air you could slit his throat. He was leaning into you and you were leaning into him. Two strikes would be all it took.

The timing was almost so perfect Paul could feel it on his tongue. One hand inching closer to yours, his mind ran crazy with the thoughts of finally being able to kiss you after thinking about it for so long. With a quick shift to his side, he could execute it fast and meaningfully as he hoped you would feel the same passion as him. It would be difficult to convince his parents to let you be with him and he knew he could be facing a lifetime of troubles if he really decided to be with you. There was just something so alluring about it that he couldn't help himself. You were leaning into him and he was leaning into you. One kiss would be all it took for him to know the truth. Was he in love?

One of you with the intent to kill and the other with the intent to love. Either way, it was a dance with death and the game the two of you were playing was dangerous.

Who's heart was going to break first?

⏳⏳⏳

(AN: Part Three coming soon!!! This was a short chapter, but I've been busy with a lot of things and haven't had as much time to write. I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for the second part!! Thank you for reading 💛🦐)

Tags: @die-collective

Let Me In

Steve Harrington X Eddie Munson

Eddie wants so badly to tell Steve the pressing matters on his mind. So much so that he's willing to bike all the way in the rain to show him just how he feels.

⚠️ Warnings: Slight Angst, mentions of scars, kinda sexual wording?⚠️

The rain poured and poured nonstop outside of the Family Video Store. It was dark and dreary, but when it was matched with the most spontaneous bike ride and a Walkman that played Iron Maiden, it was just perfect. The puddles splashed around as the new droplets of water joined the ground, making short tapping noises almost as if the sky was speaking in Morose Code. The night was just starting to fall which meant that the sky was a dark and hazy blue-grey, a calming and pretty sight to passersby. The stars were just starting to peek out as they twinkled onto the dark pavement below. The only thing that lit up the lot was the Family Video Store fluorescent lighting which shone on the cracks and pebbles of the pavement Eddie rode on, bike wheels slightly scuffing up the earth. His curly brown hair was now down to his shoulders since it was wet beyond belief and his clothes were equally soaked. His Hellfire Club shirt stuck to his midsection and his black ripped jeans became ten times heavier with the weight of the water holding him down. Still, he pushed through as he caught a glimpse of the writing on his shoes, urging him to go on. In the whitest parts of the soles Steve had written him little phrases. The little doodles of stars and smiley faces added to the butterflies starting to form in the pit of Eddie's chest as he knew what he was about to do.

The bike made a scraping noise as he came to an immediate halt the moment he made it to the front doors. He couldn't wait until he could exchange it for a motorbike of sorts, once he graduated highschool once and for all that is. Until then, the red chipped paint and the handlebars that locked up with every given chance would have to suffice. Throwing the transportation device onto the sidewalk, Eddie gave himself a slight pep talk before he went into the store. The movie posters that had been printed on the windows added to the feeling of excitement when he noticed one of them was The Evil Dead. Fiddling with the rings on one of his hands, he shook his wrist as the anxiety of the situation finally hit him. Still raining, he knew his slight eyeliner must've run down his face and would most likely cause a scene once he was inside the familiar store. Hopefully, since it was just closing, Eddie would be able to get in undetected via lack of customers.

Pushing open the doors, a bell resounds throughout the entirety of the small building, signifying the presence of someone entering. The carpet looked the same as he remembered, dirty and printed with that horrid triangular design exclusive to the 80's. However, even though the front desk stayed the same, the rest of the displays had been moved around expertly to accommodate all of the vhs tapes that littered the shelves. Eddie pushed on further inside, starting to regret his decision until his eyes made direct contact with Steve "The Hair" Harrington, wearing the most ridiculous green vest.

It felt as though time itself had stopped as if Eddie and Steve were the only beings in the world. Steve's hair was everywhere which told the metalhead that he had been stressed and ripping at his hair again. His light blue polo underneath the horrendous work attire brought out the phenomenal golden color of his skin and his dark brown eyes looked Eddie up and down. From the tips of his toes to the hair on his head, Steve took everything in and drank it into his memory, keeping it there as if he needed to remember every minute detail about Eddie and his physicality. The leather jacket under his patched up denim and his ridiculous perm that seemed to be exclusive to the music nerds of Hawkins High. The bats that were hidden under Eddie's clothing called out to Steve in an odd way, as if his fingers burned from the possibility of being able to graze over that portion of Eddie's skin.

Eddie offered up a slight smile to which the other boy returned, a grin that had melted the hearts of many and offered a sort of solace for the kids Eddie played D&D with. Steve was very handsome, he thought. It made him want to melt into the floor everytime he got to see the smile that showed off his brilliant teeth.

"Ahoy!- er- shit that was my last job, sorry." Steve chuckled and pushed the hair that was falling into his eyes away from his face, tucking a strand of it behind his ear as he leant on the red desk from behind. The telephone on the right of his arm was just as red as the counter and presumably Eddie's cheeks by this point. Thinking about Harrington was one thing, seeing him in the flesh was another.

"Ah it's okay, I didn't come to rent a movie." Eddie put one of his feet in front of the other, gently tapping the sole to the tip of the shoe in an anxious manner. He tried to look at anything but the beautiful boy in front of him, finding it excruciatingly hard for him to think about anything else. The ceiling tiles, the movies, the floor, the telephone, everything was so disinteresting compared to the radiance of Steve Harrington. Eddie was torn from his thoughts the moment he saw the pen lettering on his shoe.

'Never change, Munson.'

Steve had written that with a borrowed pen from Robin at one of Eddie's Corroded Coffin shows. He had played a total of two songs and there were about ten people who showed, but Steve was one of them. Eddie wouldn't have had it any other way; watching the popular boy glance at him over his guitar, tongue slightly escaping his lips as he glanced at Eddie's hands which were put to work on the strings, playing the familiar Metallica tune.

"What can I do for you then, Eddie? ...Did you bike here?" Steve asked, voice laced with slight concern. It never failed to make Eddie's insides twist and turn into something one could only describe as pure and utter admiration for another human being.

"I-I-" He began, but got lost in the words. How would he come clean about his feelings? How would he possibly be able to put into words the exact way he felt whenever Steve drove him to school or when he would smile at him from afar? How would he be able to get Steve to comprehend how he felt when he came to one of his shows? How would Eddie put into words how badly he wanted to touch Steve beyond the friendly handshakes and fist bumps?

"I think I might have a sweater lying around somewhere in the back if you want some dry clothes." Steve started to flip up the corner of the desk so he could walk out to the break room. He was wearing those stupid khakis that were so exclusive to the father community of Hawkins that Eddie would've had to suppress a laugh if he wasn't so invigorated with the current task at hand. Moving towards him, he threw all caution to the wind as he grabbed the other boy's hand, stopping him from moving any further and replacing the comfortable expression on his face with one of confusion. Steve's brows were furrowed but his hands and face were hot unbeknownst to the metalhead. This was the closest they had been in proximity by themselves, without the familiar screaming of the kids or the incessant nagging from Robin and Nancy. Just pure and utter silence and two boys looking for the right words to say.

"Steve."

"Eddie."

Eddie shifted in his spot, moving his jacket up with his shoulders and uncomfortably being awkward. Suddenly the store seemed hot and suffocating, the walls closing in on the two of them in his mind. Yet even with this sense of claustrophobia, he wanted to get even closer to Steve and to feel his hot breath exhaling against his skin and to feel the heat of him flush against his chest. To play with the hair that was always freshly sprayed with Farrah Faucet and the trace over the imperfections on his skin. Every scar, freckle, and mole on his body yearned to be touched by Steve's lips and the thought alone made him shudder in excitement. He knew he had to say this now before he was never able to again.

"I think-"

"Think what?" Steve harmlessly glanced at his face once more, trying to pick out what it was he was feeling.

"I think I feel more towards you than just a friend." Eddie finally let the words roll off his tongue and into the open air, surrounding the two of them as though they were music notes, echoing inside his mind and bouncing off the body of the boy in front of him. For a moment, Eddie felt relieved but quickly composed himself as he awaited a response.

Steve felt very very weird. He had never felt this type of way in his life, being at an indecision of what to do. He didn't know whether to freak out and shun away the thoughts he knew he had about Eddie months prior to his confession, or to accept it and let the boy know he felt the same. This would change everything and yet, it would change nothing. Eddie was so gorgeous. His hair was still dripping onto the floor that Steve was supposed to clean up after his shift, which ended twenty minutes ago. The chains and patches loosely placed onto his jeans and jacket made Steve's insides go wild at the thought of tracing over them with his hands, cautiously wondering what they would feel like under his tongue. But- despite all this- he remained expressionless, glued to his spot and not saying anything.

Eddie felt his heart break. He felt every inch of his chest erupt into fire, killing the butterflies that stemmed from his admiration and longing and anxiousness. It was all too much for him to handle. The worst part was knowing that he would have to go on as though nothing ever happened between him and the King of Hawkins High. As if every aching of his heart wasn't pointed in the direction of the one person on earth he'd wanted to be his lover since day one.

Turning around, he walked out of Family Video. The sky was now fully dark and the rain still beat against the windows, his bike now fully wet with the water that sloshed down from the gutters on the roof and the water that filled the puddles in the pavement. His heart felt similar to that in a way- just an open cavity slowly drowning from the inside out.

"Eddie!" Steve shouted from the door, but Eddie didn't want to hear it. He mounted his bike with tears in his eyes, mixing with the rain that fell from the clouds overhead. He paid no mind to Steve, who was now in the rain with him. It wasn't until he started to ride off that Steve knew he couldn't let him go. He couldn't just allow him to think that he didn't feel the same longing as he did. As if he didn't think about loving him in every extremity. Running faster, Steve managed to stand in Eddie's direction with his arms held out in an attempt to stop him from going any further. The tears threatening to spill from eyes became too much as Steve allowed them to fall, an emotion he didn't portray often.

"Eddie. I think about you that way too!"

The metalhead hopped off the bike. Standing just a few feet apart from the boy he'd grown to love, he felt the water escaping his lungs as the universe allowed him to breathe again. It was as if someone had conducted a surgery on his heart and fixed him and all the spontaneity he held within him before. All because Steve said the three words that he'd thought walking into the video store tonight.

"I love you."

And there it was. Rain still pouring relentlessly and both boys with cheeks so red you'd think they'd gotten a sunburn in the middle of autumn, there it was. The raw and beautiful emotion of two lovers who had been torn apart by society but still found a way back to one another. A couple of hesitant footsteps in front of them and the soft sobs that could be heard from Steve pushed the couple closer and closer until eventually the thoughts of tasting one another became actions. The thoughts of love and emotion became words and the intensity of their attraction became feverish as they allowed themselves to consume each other in their grasp under the harsh rain.

"I wish you hadn't waited so long to tell me that, Harrington. Otherwise, I would've been right here this whole time." Eddie said, wiping a stray tear away from his face once they broke away. A slight chuckle left him as he took in Steve's flustered but beautiful state. His hair was flatter than a pancake against his head and it made Eddie love him even more knowing that he willingly followed him out in the rain even at the expense of his hair.

"May I kiss you again?" Steve asked ever so softly, finally allowing him to voice the emotions he'd been feeling for so long.

"Of course." Eddie said, smiling and leaning in for another one.

The sky crackled above with a beautiful blue and purple lightning, shining down over the lovers who felt just as electric as the weather.