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Hey,

First of all, I absolutely adore your writing style and in general your stories (especially the Hannibal ones). Could you please write one, where Hannibal is overly possessive, because he thought his wife got too close to Chilton at one of his dinner parties? And to end it all of there is smut. (If you are comfortable with that).Thank you for considering

Close Call

Hannibal Lecter X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Over possessiveness on Hannibal's part, slight angst, swearing, mentions of blood and wounds, sociopathic and manipulative tendencies, uhh first time writing smut so hopefully it's okay (it's fairly light) ⚠️

I also didn't read through this again and edit it, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Hannibal finds himself somewhat outraged at an overly confident Chilton getting too close to his wife. No matter, he'll just have to remind the two of you of what's his.

Dinner parties were nothing short of extravagant when it came to Hannibal Lecter's craft.

The wines were paired with the delicacies adorning the plates on the mahogany table; everything had its own respective place, down to the last spoon and fork on each intricately folded napkin. There was, of course, the smell wafting through the corridors of the Lecters' home, signifying the delicious meal being prepared in the kitchen and acting as bait to those mingling in the living room as they awaited the call to be seated. From your perspective, the table had to be crafted to perfection so that the party full of rich good-for-nothings had no complaints of the events of the night. Of course, you adored your husband's cooking, but less so you enjoyed the company he chose. Intelligence wasn't something that came from the accumulation of degrees and the bragging of doing so- in your opinion- but rather came from the passion associated with the understanding of others and their natural environments. In other words, conversations of nonsensical retellings of the rise to power and gathering of wealth that these particular guests had were of no interest to you. These people spoke of books on law and work projects as though they've forgotten entirely what it means to express humanity: experience.

But you were ever so careful to express your opinion on the subject of what it means to be human. Although you acknowledged your differing perspective, you didn't want to diminish the perspectives of those who might only know of the desires associated with "book smarts," and not what you referred to as "experience points." These two things could coexist, but it was often that a person leaned heavier towards either side. You still had more to learn about the balance of these, but alas, that is the human condition.

Hannibal loved you for this.

Being someone so intensely driven towards the path of psychology and law, it was refreshing being married to someone who expressed opposition to having that be the basis of every conversation. He loved a good conversation on written words and philosophers and mathematical expressions, but he loved even more to have someone in his life that kept him his understanding of biology and the preservation of his humanity. With his- er- hobby, as some would refer to it as- it became difficult to maintain this humanistic approach. These dinner parties served more as an obligatory social preservation to his image, so as not to be caught with his peculiar hobby.

And the culinary arts were his escape, anyways. A win-win except for the fact you'd be bored out of your mind talking to some of these people, he knew. Nevertheless, you had a polite smile etched onto your face wearing very presentable attire. You were a master at code-switching, it seemed, replacing your usually laid-back and outgoing personality with a more hoity-toity, reserved aura.

You had on a slightly more revealing outfit; a dress so navy it almost seemed black under any lighting that wasn't direct candlelight. This dress had been cut just above the knees with an off-shoulder neckline, exposing the very top of your chest and the beginning of your upper thighs. It was classily paired with silver earrings gifted to you by your husband, and a half up-do with your precariously crafted curls threatening to spill out of the fastened hairclip from behind. Hannibal had expressed just how lovely you'd looked as he helped you with your zipper earlier, placing a hemline of kisses to your collarbone.

He wasn't the only one who'd had this realization dawn on them during the night, however. A bright-eyed Dr. Chilton who'd received nothing short of a pity-invite, found himself drawing away from the conveniently placed appetizers to the lavish chairs facing the fireplace where you sat. He silently waited for your conversation to conclude before he decided to sweep in and take the woman's place on your right, finishing the glass of brandy in his hand before doing so.

"(Y/N)," He almost seemed exasperated, as if he were already slightly drunk, "A pleasure."

He reached out his hand to you in an attempt to get you to shake it as an overly friendly gesture, acknowledgement to his presence. You proceeded to smile at him instead, as you'd become familiar to his intentions.

"Hello, Dr. Chilton, how are you?"

His face flushed as he withdrew his hand from your space, opting to rest it against his leg as he sunk further into his chair, getting more comfortable. He was definitely drunk and if not drunk, then the far side of tipsy. You already didn't care for the guy much, so this chance encounter was a hinderance in your eyes before conversational topics even arose.

"You know, I never understood the drab curtains you chose for the interior of your living room, Mrs. Lecter. They block out all of the sunlight." He began, eyeing the bottle of scotch being poured out by another guest to the left of your chair. His eyes seemed to be glazed over as he spoke, however, the dimly lit fireplace seemed to cast some light back into them. His suit of choice was a corduroy one. The heavy material of the fabric already making him break out in a slight sweat.

Grimacing, you feign another smile as you fully acclimate yourself to the conversation at hand. You tell yourself to remember your polite flattery, but honestly with the way Dr. Chilton was, you knew he would take any sort of attention to his character the wrong way.

"Yes, that was the way we intended them to be, doctor. Have you ever been to our home during the daytime? It's not as drab as you may have perceived it to be."

Dr. Chilton had been coming onto you for quite some time now. Despite knowing you were wed and the many implications of your marriage you'd spoken about, he still managed to hold onto the hope that maybe one day something would spark between the two of you. It wouldn't. It hadn't. His blatantly disrespectful comments about yours and Hannibal's relationship were starting to burrow under your skin and take root in an uncomfortable fashion. Part of you felt bad for the man, another part wanted to sock him in the face.

Respectably, of course.

"Perhaps not. Maybe I spoke out of turn." He claimed, uneasily moving about in his chair despite his initial comfortability at the beginning of your dialogue. Maybe if you kept with the slight I-don't-like-you innuendos, then maybe he would be drunk enough to give it a rest and would return to his normal self come morrow.

"Maybe." You agree, taking a sip from your glass of Chardonnay. It was almost dinnertime. You could hold out until then, couldn't you?

"You know," Chilton began, staring deep into the fire and allowing a hushed sigh to escape your lips in anticipation of another redundant comment, "I used to set fires in Uni all the time. Its a miracle I graduated with any degree at all with the amount of trouble I used to get into as a boy."

Pause. Was there finally something worthwhile to discuss with this man?

"Really? And the occasion was...?" You asked, trying to direct the topic back to this small bombshell the Doctor had just dropped in your presence. Experience points were far more interesting to talk about than a poor understanding of the "48 Laws of Power," which was the last conversation you'd had.

He seemed to perk up in his chair realizing that you'd finally taken something that left his mouth with interest. "None, we were just playing with matches and grew bored. Only got caught because the wind carried the flames back to our dorm which almost set alight." He smiled and for a moment, you could see the memory replaying through those glossy eyes of his. You felt included, as if you'd been there yourself, watching the growing light of the flames dance around the edges of the matches you were playing with.

As if on cue, your husband's hand was gently but firmly placed on your shoulder from behind. You knew instantly it was him because of the wafting smell of his woodsy cologne and the wine he was drinking infiltrating your nose. His grip on you was polite but there was an edge to it, an unfamiliar one at that. Was something wrong?

Turning around, you see his darkened glare towards Chilton in the chair next to you. His matching dark navy suit making him look all the more professional and intimidating in this light; if you were Chilton you'd have run far far away from the glare Hannibal had. He seemed to pay no mind, however, eyes still focused on you until your husband broke the silence:

"Dinnertime."

It was at that moment that you noticed all the other guests had made their way to the kitchen and the three of you were the only ones in the living room. How long had you been talking to the doctor for? Hannibal's repressed anger suddenly made sense.

Walking to the kitchen, you were in awe at the sight before you. Hannibal had really put his all into tonight, and it showed. The plates were nothing short of art with the first course on display with accompanying sauces and garnish that turned them into something out of a museum painting. The entire get-up was something out of the Renaissance itself; everything in its perfect place. Hannibal stood at the head of the table, glass in hand as he prepared to make a toast to progress the night's dinner.

"I would like to thank you all for coming out tonight."

A collection of smiles and exchanged glances ensued, everyone pleased with their invite.

"Amongst this crowd are the most intellectual and inspiring people I've had the pleasure of getting to become familiar with. You're all of high accomplishments and achievements and I would like to thank each of you, individually, with a meal that encapsulates such dedication shown by you all."

Your husband then smiled at you and raised his glass.

"I would also like to thank my lovely wife, with whom I share this simple but joyous life with."

There was a hint of something there, something alongside the adoration he expressed for you on the daily. There was a twinge of that anger once more, but could it really be directed towards your conversation with Chilton? It seemed so clear to you that your husband surpassed the former in every way possible: intelligence and compassion, hell, down to the formal attire he adorned himself with daily. There was no way he would feel threatened by another man so unruly.

"Likewise." You said, tilting your glass up to the ceiling in acknowledgement of his kind and respectable words.

"Once more to reiterate, MY wife and I spent a long time on this meal so I hope you all enjoy it." He smiled a forced grin and directed his gaze towards Chilton. "And nothing on the menu for tonight is vegetarian."

...

The night was filled with more of the usual countless bantering between everyone in the room, trying to appeal more and more to everyone else. You were swept into what seemed like every conversation in the house and all of this sociability was starting to grow exhausting. The meal was phenomenal, to say the least, but did little to calm your worries with your husband's current expression of intolerance and dismay. You wanted nothing more than to head upstairs to your shared bedroom and to sort things out with him; to maybe end the night with a passionate kiss and to then retire to bed, finally. That desire, however, seemed like miles away because of the ongoing event that you were starting to despise more with every passing minute.

Not to mention, your dress was starting to get extremely uncomfortable, as if your skin were melting into the seams of the fabric.

As if on cue to make the night worse, Dr. Chilton was making his way towards you, undoubtedly much more drunk this time. He was stumbling over his own loafers and the floorboards were not his friend at the moment. He was making a fool of himself and you wanted so badly to just disappear.

Just then, the floorboard by the fireplace where you were sitting popped up in front of him. Everything from then went in slow-motion, the wood, the stumbling of Chilton's feet and the slow advancement towards the fire. Seeing how this would play out, you wanted to yell "Stop!" but you were frozen. Just as you had predicted, he had a horrid fall towards the open flame, his cufflinks connecting with the place stones and his right arm breaking the fall. His hand wasn't lucky enough to miss the fire, his scream instantly echoing throughout the room.

"Dr. Chilton!" Hannibal yelled, already to his feet with the pitcher of water from the charcuterie table. It was insane that his reflexes allowed him to respond instantaneously. Almost as if he had prepared for the doctor's fall. Springing the water onto Chilton, the fire was put out almost as quickly as it had started.

"Are you okay?" You asked the doctor, leaning down to his level on the floor, holding his now hurt hand.

"B-b-bandages." He was able to muster out.

The closer look you got to his hand, the closer you could see the wound. The flames didn't consume his flesh for very long, although there was now a coating of red on his skin alongside a few open gashes. Looking to your husband for help, you instead saw him standing above you, a scowl on his lips. He looked angrier than he'd ever before and the sight of it scared you. Had he been angry that the party was ruined? That one of his guests were hurt?

Chilton was then led to the kitchen where his wounds were properly addressed and tended to. The aid kit that had collected dust on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet had finally been put to use, and, upon further inspection, it had been decided for the doctor to call for an ambulance for a more professional treatment.

He left. Everyone followed suit. It was now only you and your husband.

"I'm sorry that had to happen the way it did." You said, reaching out to touch his shoulder and soothe him in my way you could. "Would you like me to help you clean up?"

He mumbled something under his breath before he made his way up the elongated glass stairs. It was unbelievably peculiar for him to retire to bed this early, especially before cleaning up from a party.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, voice coming out as nothing more than a feeble whisper. He stopped in his tracks, his blazer now resting atop his free arm opposite to the one holding the railing. His tie was loosened and from where you were standing, you couldn't see his face all that clearly.

He finally spoke up.

"What are your intentions with Chilton?" He asked.

You stopped in your initial tracks to follow your husband up the stairs. Was he accusing you of courtship? And with the doctor of all people?

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N)."

Your heart broke for a moment, there was no way he really thought that after years of marriage, after what you had come to learn about him and his... capabilities...that you would choose another man, albeit in front of his own eyes?

"I have no intentions with Chilton, Hanni. Not as an acquaintance, not as a friend, not as a lover." You continued to follow him up the stairs and to your shared bedroom where he placed the blazer and tie on the bedside table rather than hang it up as he usually did. He undid his cufflinks and unbuttoned the top his neckline.

"I only want you, Hannibal. You know that."

He pursed his lips and finally, from where he leant against the bed, looked up at you standing in the doorframe. Your expression was a worried one, not of someone who had underlying intentions. Hannibal knew what you wanted, knew who you wanted, but Chilton had gotten the better of him tonight. And besides, tormenting the two of you to remind both of you who you belong to was a much more satisfying game to play.

"Alright." Hannibal said, accepting your validation with his thick, Danish accent. "Show me."

"I- what?" You asked, being taken aback completely by surprise. His eyes were dark with thoughts you had grown to be all too familiar with from him. Despite clearly understanding his interpretation of the words, you still stood frozen at the door, waiting. There was something about this that wasn't going to be as sweet as the usual slow and sensual intimacy you'd had with your husband and you knew this fact.

Just then, as if taking your hesitance as permission, he stands and walks over to you, the height difference ever so apparent now that you were face to face. His gelled hair was now starting to come undone, as was yours, as he held your gaze. His hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear and then trailed to your neck, your collarbone, your breast. He then allowed his hand to go further, down to your waist and then pulled you into him, holding you there as gently but firm as one could be. He was watching your face as he did so, never breaking eye contact even once.

Your breath hitched in your throat. A growing warmth developed in your midsection as your husband had you entranced with his every move. He was enjoying this, enjoying you, enjoying the situation he put you in. He had turned on his more sadistic side and it was becoming evident with the way he progressed down your body, replacing his hands with kisses and moving towards your thighs then back up, as if with haste, towards your mouth. You felt as though you were going to faint right then and there.

He suddenly stops his kisses and then goes to finish unbuttoning his shirt. His wide frame was revealed with every unfastened button popping off, slowly but surely. Every inch of his skin had been crafted to the likes of the gods, it was as if he were one of them himself. No imperfections in his skin as far as the eye could see. He was beautiful. He was the divine definition of beauty itself.

He swiftly moved his hands to your throat, fingers following suit as he held you there, against the bedroom wall, a juxtaposition to his masterfully divine beauty of feigned innocence. His breath was hot but not unpleasant as he whispered into the nape of your neck:

"You belong to me."

And that was all it took for you to fold entirely, becoming a puppet to his every command, desires of the flesh being the only thing on both your minds. You needed him and he needed you to need him. He wanted a full surrender, a full understanding that he was the only man you'd ever be able to fulfill these lustrous fantasies with.

"Do you understand?" He asked, not giving you a second to think any further before he moved you from the wall and to the bed, where he towered over you.

"Y-yes." You said, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Good. Now take it."

Confused, you looked up at him but he had already had other plans, flipping you into your stomach and forcing himself inside you, under your dress. The instant burn that you felt was replaced by immediate satisfaction as you saw stars. Through this position you could feel him inside you, hot and intense, pushing deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. He dug into you until he was all you could feel, hear, taste, see. He was owning every inch of your skin and forcing you to feel it.

And you loved it.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, anger laced in his voice.

"You." You tried your best to get out with the intense feeling between your thighs but it was next to impossible.

"What was that?" He asked once more, forcing you to say it louder.

Just as you were about to respond, he picks you up and turns you around to face him, taking in his expression. You were on your knees looking up at him, tears in your eyes at the intensity of what had just happened. Your dress was definitely ruined by this point but you couldn't care less.

"You." You said, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. He placed his finger on your lips and smiled down at you while he toyed with them. He then put himself inside of your mouth, your jaws stretching to be able to take him.

"Good." He said, quickening his original pace as he sighed with content. You allowed him to finish before the two of you fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets.

He was holding you in his arms now, making sure you were alright as he kissed the top of your head and face, looking at the marks he'd left on your skin. He'd make sure those were more visible the next time someone tried to intrude on your guys' company. Especially on a pity invite.

He'd also make sure not to let Chilton off with a warning next time, making sure to purposely set his entire body on fire, not just his hand.

But you were asleep soundly in his arms, full of him and he had won.

...

A/N : Hello! This is my first time writing smut kinda so I hope this is up to par with some other fanfic writers. I really hope this fulfills your request! Lmk if anyone has any other requests, my ask box is open! 🫶

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Count the Ways // S.H.

Request: could you do a steve imagine where they’re a couple and they go to a party together but y/n gets really drunk and steve starts to get nervous because of what happened with nancy but then she just starts telling him how much she loves her and he feels better? it would be so cute - anon

A/N: Such a cute request! Thank you so much for sending it in. I hope you like it and that I have done it justice. I wrote this in an hour and it isn’t edited the best, I’m really sorry but I’m so busy this week that I wanted to get something out for you all!

Warnings: alcohol, underage drinking (American laws), drunk reader, drunkenness, fluff, happy, cute.

Word count: 1.6k

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NIGHTCALL

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Here's a visualizer for the fanfiction I posted!! 💚💚

BTS (방탄소년단) @ Permission to Dance: On Stage Concert performed ‘Black Swan’ at Seoul Olympic Stadium on October 24th, 2021 in Seoul, South Korea

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Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now

Summary: Feeling spiteful and fed up with Jason’s torments, Eddie decides to get back at him using Y/n, Jason’s twin sister. But as you to grow closer and closer, Eddie finds himself catching feelings, but how will he tell you the truth?

Word count: 6k

Warnings: drugs, betrayal, angst, (happy ending though) Jason being a dick

Authors note: first time writing for stranger things! I’m really proud of this fic and I hope to write more for Stranger Things. Shout out to my dad for introducing me to The Smiths!

Requests are open!!!

The song the title is based on: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjPhzgxe3L0

Eddie was at his wits end. He was no stranger to Jason’s constant attacks and mockery, but they had started to reach his breaking point and he didn’t know what to do.

“Hey Eddie?” Dustin said, breaking his train of thought.

“Lucus, Mike, and I made sure to clear our schedules for the rest of the week to focus on Hellfire. You can count on us being there.”

The poor kids did everything in their power to try and impress him. It was almost endearing.

“Good. We will need all the members of the party for what I have planned.”

From across the room, he saw you, seated quietly across from your brother, head buried in a book as the rest of the dumb jocks joked around throwing paper airplanes.

It was a well known fact throughout the school that you were Jason Carver’s sister. Always beside him and Chrissy during game days, always cheering on the team, but always keeping a good arms length away from what the rest of your brother’s goonies had going on.

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sexy mustache men who name themselves after a fruit >>

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.

Mads Mikkelsen

Nigel:

All I Need: Nigel and you are somehow face-to-face in the streets of Bucharest. Will you rekindle a love that had been forgotten long ago?

(Romance/Slight angst)

Nigel Banyai X Will Graham:

DOGSDOGS: Will is called to Bucharest for an investigation following the aftereffects of Hannibal's death. Nigel wants to ensure his and Darko's safety and remain outside the eye of the FBI.

In Progress!

(Angst/Fluff/Horror)

Hannibal:

Link to Hannibal fics here

Duncan Vizla:

Tourniquet: Duncan goes on a killing spree to avenge you and your capture and he's fucking ruthless in doing so.

(Romance/Slight angst not really)

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

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Hello Panko Shrimps!!

I have made some Timmy wallpapers for anyone who's interested!

Enjoy!!

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