#please excuse how utterly corny all of this is. i did not do it on purpose.

[saturdays--sun]

💭 @strawberrisoulmate asked: 🎵📝🧾 💌🎀🎠🎡 for Saturday hehe~ <3

wails and cries and sobs the boy!!!!! the specialest boy ever!!!!!! the love of my life!!!!!! (from here)

🎵 list three songs that remind you of your selfship.

limiting it to three is cruel to me specifically so i'm doubling it and making it six <3

over and over - neck deep

like you do - joji

head to the ground - neck deep

brainwashed - waterparks

single - the neighbourhood

we'll never have sex - leith ross

honorable mention to paris in the rain - lauv because i started crying listening to it once while thinking of him

📝 give us a piece of a wip involving your f/o (writing, art, etc.)

[lets out the softest little wah imaginable]

🧾 what’s your favorite headcanon someone else has made about your f/o?

i hope you know i'm utterly obsessed with the "if he saw you wearing his shirt, he'd ask to stay home all day just so you'll keep wearing it" thing. it's ruined me. i think about it every single day. every headcanon you've told me about him is my favorite, but that one in particular is just—

[giggles n covers my face n kicks my leggies so hard] /)//w//(\ !!!!!!!!!!!

💌 how did you/your f/o confess your feelings to one another?

well, it certainly wasn't anything planned.

it was just sort of... something that happened. it was late, and he was about to go home, but something was... really obviously weighing on him. so i asked what was wrong — which he expected (and, maybe, really deep down, hoped) i'd do, but didn't make it any easier to actually say. prior to me calling him out on it, he wasn't going to actually say anything at all — because what if, ever after everything we'd been through up to that point, i didn't actually want to be with him? what if i rejected him? bottling up all the feelings he had — all the ones he wanted to tell me — was infinitely better than facing the pain of losing me entirely.

but just dropping something and brushing it under the rug isn't something i'd let him do — he knows that; appreciates it, even, because he also knows he'd never address anything if it weren't for me. but that doesn't make it easy or any less terrifying to admit, even in a roundabout way, that he has real, genuine feelings for me. but he did, eventually — albeit slowly and not as explicitly as he'd probably prefer to have told me in hindsight — despite how afraid he was.

he told me he wanted to stay by my side; i told him i wanted the same thing.

it wasn't some Grandiose Confession Of Love or anything, but i prefer it this way. i think it suits us <3

🎀 what’s your favorite thing about your f/o’s appearance?

everything, he's perfect <3

but if i had to pick one thing specifically, i'd say his eyes. they're so so pretty and i love looking at them — i never particularly cared about the color blue before, but they're by far the prettiest shade i've ever seen. though, maybe that's just because they're his. maybe that's why it's become one of my favorite colors, too.

also, at the risk of sounding even cornier, his smile. but not some casual one or one that he puts on because that's how he's conditioned himself — his real one. the one that comes out when he's actually, genuinely happy. the one that he only ever shows to me.

🎠 what’s your favorite thing about your f/o’s personality?

everything, he's perfect <3

but specifically the fact that he's a LOSER. A DORK!!!! SOPPY AND PATHETIC!!!!!!! there's just something so unbelievably cute about the fact that — once he's in an environment where he doesn't have to keep up a specific act; where he's allowed to just act naturally; where he's not worried that i'll suddenly stop liking him if he "breaks character" — underneath the persona he's crafted, he's just... such a dork. guy who used to say the cringiest lines without batting an eye now gets embarrassed over asking me to link arms with him?? guy who has never felt insecure in his life suddenly feels it entirely too often when he's around me — what if i say something stupid and she laughs at me? what if i wear something different and she thinks i look bad? what if i embarrass myself around her and she stops wanting to be with me? would actually rather Die than have me think he's lame even for a second. dotes on me every chance he gets. changed a core facet of his wardrobe because i said he looked better without it once. misses me after a singular night away from me. misses me when i go into a separate room from him. guy who's SO down bad and in love with me it makes him look STUPID.

it's the cutest thing on the entire planet and i love that about him so so much <3

🎡 what’s your dream date to go on with your f/o?

like... anything? it sounds so corny to say, but any date with him would be my dream date — from dates where we just stay in and watch a movie or something to the fancier, more planned out ones he'll take me on to anything in between.

but, to come up with a specific scenario i like— you know those sorta like... fair / carnival type places? that are usually on some pier somewhere? the kind you see in a lot of 80's teen movies? yeah. i wanna go to one of those with him.

it's not the kind of place he would ever go — not on his own, and especially not on a date — but that's... sort of why i want to. it's different and not anything either of us have ever really experienced — me because i never had anyone to go with; him because his previous lifestyle never took him anywhere close to someplace like that — so i think it'd be kinda nice to have something that's a First Time for both of us, ya know? and more so than that, i just wanna... instill in him the thought that he doesn't always have to try so hard with me. not that he's particularly uptight or not himself with me, but he still has a tendency to get in his head and worry that i'm unhappy with him or that he's not doing enough or something else equally untrue — and i think a casual, fun date would... not necessarily get rid of those thoughts entirely, but would remind him that i'm perfectly happy with him regardless of what we're doing; that, regardless of what his brain tells him, he doesn't have to achieve some impossibly high standard to keep me by his side; that i'll still be there no matter what.

and, less seriously, i just think it'd be a lot of fun. wanna go on all the silly little rides with him and take dumb photobooth pictures and eat cotton candy and stay out all night laughing and having fun <3

[theseusernamesarehard]

Stuck in the middle - Fred Weasley

Inspired by the song Stuck In The Middle by Tai Verdes

Lyrics from the song are bolded.

Summary: Y/N catches Fred Weasley’s eye one day, but instead of agreeing to a date, she calls him out for his player ways making him even more obsessed with her. The two keep balancing on the line between friends and more, but can’t seem to cross over onto either side.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Warnings: cursing, some very light allusions to smut

Word count: 3.7k

(gif isn’t mine credit to whoever made it!)

Fred Weasley was certainly known around Hogwarts, for better of for worse. During his six year run at Hogwarts, he had amassed quite the reputation. Teachers knew him as one half of their nightmares, the Weasley twins, while most students, especially female ones, knew him as the fit and charming prankster who seemingly couldn’t stay single for too long. 

“What’s got you so focused Fred?” George grinned at the Great Hall, watching his brother.

“Seems to be the Ravenclaw table. Who could it be? Any guesses, guys?” Angelina replied.

“Cho Chang?” Lee tried. 

“Hmm...No, he’s looking a little bit left to her”, Katie said.

“I think it’s the girl a few seats over. She’s in our year right?” Angelina suggested.

“Yeah, she’s in my numerology class, I think. Y/N L/N”, Alicia confirmed.

“So you going to talk to her?” George asked, but he ended up having to wave his hand in front of his brothers gaze to get him to focus. “Fred?”

“Huh?” he seemed to snap out of something. “Sorry, what’s up?”

“We were just discussing the target of your admiration”, George said.

“What are you talking about?” Fred laughed.

“You not being able to keep your eyes away from the Ravenclaw table”, Angelina smiled. “Who were you looking at?”

“No one”, Fred replied.

“Really? Not even Y/N L/N?” Alicia asked.

“So that’s her name.”

“Are you going to admit that you were staring?” George asked.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go”, Fred said after noticing the girl exciting the Great Hall. He got up and went after her, eventually falling into pace with the Ravenclaw. 

She raised her eyebrow at him, having never even shared a class or talked to the boy.

“Looking for something?” Y/N asked.

“I was. The most beautiful girl ever. Lucky for me, the search is finally over”, he said and caused her to roll her eyes. “Like the line, eh?”

“If by ‘like’ you mean ‘find incredibly corny and almost embarrassing’ then yes. I love it.”

“Good, because there are many more where that came from. You can find those out, if you agree to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday.”

“So you’ve come to ask me out?”

“It seems as though I have.”

“Unfortunately I’m going to have to decline.”

“What? Why?”

“I think you know why.”

“I cannot think of even one reason why you shouldn’t give me a chance.”

“You’re a player, aren’t you?” 

“Not into quidditch guys then?”

“The other kind of player. The type that plays with girl’s emotions instead of bludgers.”

“Sounds like you don’t know me at all. I’m nothing like that and if you gave Hogsmeade a chance, I could prove it.”

“Trust me, Fred Weasley, I know you quite well. And from what I know, you’re a player, whether you choose to ignore it or not. I’m very sorry, but my answer is still no. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the library”, she said and with that, left him standing at the corridor.

“Judging by your expression she turned you down”, George said as Fred entered the Gryffindor common room.

“Sure did.”

“Why? I mean, we don’t blame her but for some reason girls usually find you utterly irresistible”, Lee asked.

“Not all girls”, Alicia noted, Katie and Angelina nodding.

“Sorry, all girls that don’t know him.”

“She claimed she did know me. Called me a player and walked off.”

“Quite rude”, Lee said.

“But understandable”, Angelina added.

“Don’t you accuse me of that as well”, Fred groaned.

“Well the time between a relationship ending and a new one beginning has usually been suspiciously short when it comes to you”, Katie said.

“I prefer to think I just go with the flow.”

“I think there have been more than a few instances where you have also blatantly disregarded girls’ feelings”, Alicia pointed out.

“Fine, maybe I am a bit of a player. But I don’t think that means she shouldn’t give me a chance.”

“She probably just doesn’t want to waste her time. You have a reputation and if she knows that, I don’t blame her for thinking you’re going to break her heart”, Alicia said.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to convince her I won’t.”

“Why not just let it go? I mean I’m sure there are other girls at Hogwarts who would die to go on a date with you”, George asked.

“Because this is now about me proving her wrong.”

Next weekend at Hogsmeade, Y/N was walking around the village with her friends, chatting about pretty much nothing when she felt a hand tap on her shoulder. She turned around to a grinning Fred Weasley.

“What do you want?” she asked him.

“Christ, what happened to the act of greeting someone? Just a simple hello, how are you?” Fred pouted.

“Don’t have a lot of time, had to cut to the chase”, she replied bluntly.

“I’ll be quick. Mind if I borrow her for a second?” he asked her friends, who all replied with enthusiasm. 

“No, not at all. Take your time”, one of her friends smiled.

“Make it quick”, Y/N corrected as she let him drag her away from her friends.

“Just wait a second.”

“Waiting is literally the opposite of quick.”

“No, slow is the opposite of quick.”

“Well waiting is very slow, so my point still stands.”

“As much as I would love to argue this with you. We’ve arrived at our destination”, he said and gestured at the sign of Three Broomsticks.

“I thought I made myself quite clear when I declined you offer”, Y/N noted.

“Ah, but you see you declined my offer of a date. Now this is another offer. How about we go to Three Broomsticks as friends?”

“Why do you want to do that? It seems quite hard to believe there are no underlying motivations here.”

“What on earth could those be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps you want me to come here as a friend with the hopes it will turn into something more? Which then means that you aren’t asking me as a friend.”

“You are right and wrong. I do have other motivations, but I am not asking you for anything more than your friendship. I want to prove you wrong.”

“Prove me wrong? About what exactly?”

“About me being a player.”

“You can’t fool me like that. There isn’t a lot that you can do to make me change my mind.”

“Why don’t you try me on that? I know you wanna be friends.”

“Fine, one butterbeer and no funny business.”

“You won’t regret it.”

And to (Y/N)’s surprise, she didn’t. Fred was good company and she ended up having fun. 

“So you’ve finished your drink. One could say our deal is up”, Fred smirked.

“Are you trying to justify any funny business? Because I was just starting to think you might not be such a prick after all.”

“Ha! So I proved you wrong then?”

“No. I said you might not be such a prick. And besides, being a player doesn’t require being a prick.”

“Well, how can I prove you wrong?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I kind of do.”

“Why?”

“I tend to be quite stubborn.”

“Well you can’t really change my mind on this.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I tend to be quite stubborn as well.”

“So I suppose there’s no dating you anytime soon then?”

“No, but friends does sound pretty good”, she smiled.

But friends turn into sleepovers, AKA long nights in the common room, that  might have ended in one of their dorms a few times. And after some time, sleepovers turn into love or at least something similar to that. The only problem with that happened to be that neither expressed those feeling to one another. They didn’t know what they were or if they even were anything. They hadn’t had the need to figure their relationship out, until one day.

“Hello? Fred? Freddie? Frederick Gideon Weasley!” George said, trying to get his brother’s attention. Fred didn’t seem to notice him, eyes fixated on an exchange at the Ravenclaw table, until his brother poked him in the side quite harshly.

“What?” he turned.

“You’re staring like a creep”, Katie noted.

“This time there isn’t really a need to guess who it is though”, Lee smirked. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please! I saw her sneaking out of your bed just two nights ago!”

“Who?” Fred tried, but knew all hope was lost at that point.

“I saw Y/N. There is literally no need to hide it, because you two are so bloody obvious.” 

“No we aren’t!” Fred argued.

“Please, Fred. We’ve all seen you two sneak out of corridors looking a bit disheveled”, Angelina said.

“Not to mention all the times she’s come to the Gryffindor common room”, Katie noted.

“As friends! She’s come up to hang out with us as friends!”

“And yet somehow you two are always the last one’s there. Alone.”

“And somehow that always ends up either with me having to hear you two making out on your way up the stairs or me having to wake up to you sneaking back to bed at five am!” George joined.

“So will you just admit that you two are together?” Angelina asked.

“No! Because we’re not. I-I don’t what we are, but clearly we aren’t together”, he said, nodding towards the Ravenclaw table, where Y/N seemed to be talking with some Durmstrang boy.

“Ah, I see the problem”, Alicia said.

“That doesn’t mean anything, though”, George comforted.

“Please. She’s been laughing at his jokes for the entirety of dinner and even did the thing where she flings her hair over her shoulder”, Fred said, plopping his head in his hands.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to get any hair in her mouth?” Lee tried.

“See this is completely ridiculous. She clearly thinks she can’t trust me and I bet she’s just been using me this whole time. Lucky for her, two can play at that game.”

“So you’re just going to prove her point about you being a player?” Katie asked.

“No, I’m going to show her that I don’t care about what she does.”

“Sure, that seems like the healthy thing to do”, George muttered.

“Angelina, I need you to do me a favour.”

Love turns into jealousy and now we both fucked up.

Y/N was just about to walk out of the Great Hall, when she heard Fred at the Gryffindor table.

“Angelina, want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Of bloody course. Y/N had known about Fred’s reputation with girls and that was the reason she didn’t want to go out with him in the first place. She was supposed to be smarter than that! But she couldn’t help developing feelings for him after finding out how truly charming he could be. It wasn’t her fault that he always managed to make her laugh of roll her eyes with his cheesy lines. It wasn’t her fault that he somehow always managed to win at exploding snap. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t help kissing him back when he leaned in one night at the Gryffindor common room.

She originally hadn’t had any intentions to do anything with the Durmstrang boy, even though he was relentlessly flirting with her, but after seeing Fred so casually ask someone else to the ball, clearly without even sacrificing a thought to her, she was fuming. So like any sensible person, she turned around and went to find the boy. He was still in the Great Hall, so making sure that she was in hearing of the Gryffindor table, she asked him if he would like to go the ball with her. To which he agreed very excitedly, to Fred’s annoyance.

Fred and Y/N didn’t talk for the entirety of the time leading up to the Yule Ball, both mad at the other person.

“Y/N, it’s completely okay to be upset about the Fred thing”, one of her friends said carefully at dinner, the day before the ball.

“I’m not upset!” she snapped. “I knew something exactly like this would happen, which is why I didn’t date him!”

“Perhaps you were never official, but it was quite obvious something was going on there. You don’t have to try and deny that.”

“Whatever, let’s talk about something else. I’m sick of him.”

“I’m sick of her!” Fred said the same day at the Gryffindor table.

“I’m starting to be too with having to hear him complain about her all the time”, Lee muttered to the others.

“Why won’t you just talk to her”, George suggested.

“Because there’s nothing to talk about”, Fred claimed.

“Then what have you been babbling on about for the past two weeks? It’s always Y/N this and Y/N that”, Alicia said.

“She’s right. If I have to hear about her and that Durmstrang boy one more time you’re going to the ball by yourself!” Angelina claimed. “It’s already bad enough you used me to get revenge on her.”

“Not my fault you owed me one. A favour is a favour and you can’t not do it anymore.”

“Still, just talk to her. Please?” George tried one last time.

“No. She made her choice and I am completely okay with that.”

But he wasn’t. Everyone could see that. If only he could see that Y/N wasn’t close to okay either. The two should’ve seen this coming, both of them having admitted to extreme stubbornness right from the start, but they didn’t.

So needless to say, neither of them was having much fun at the ball. Both jealous and mad at the other person.

“That’s it. I can’t take this anymore”, Angelina sighed. “I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Before Fred could say anything, she had walked off to Y/N and her date, who were sitting at one of the tables, not talking to each other.

“Hi Y/N! Would you mind if I borrowed your date for a second? Mine seems to be no fun”, she smiled.

“Umm...I guess I don’t?” Y/N said, confused as to what was happening.

“Great! You can definitely borrow Fed for a dance if you’d like.”

“I don’t think that’s a good ide-”, Y/N tried, but was interrupted by Angelina grabbing her hand and leading her to Fred. 

“You two have fun!” Angelina smiled and returned to the Durmstrang boy.

“I had no idea she was going to do that”, Fred assured.

“It’s fine”, Y/N sighed. Both of them just stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“I think we don’t really have any other choice, but to dance”, Fred said.

“I guess we don’t”, she smiled slightly.

They went up to the floor and danced silently to a slow song. His hands placed on her waist and hers wrapped around his neck.

“So...a Durmstrang boy, huh?” Fred asked after a while.

“Angelina, huh?” Y/N asked back.

“Owed me a favour”, he shrugged slightly.

“Why would you ask her as a favour when half of Hogwarts would’ve loved nothing more than to be your date?” Y/N laughed.

“Perhaps, because the one girl I wanted to go with was clearly planning on going with someone else”, he said. They were quite literally dancing on the line of something neither of them truly wanted to admit to.

“Who?” Y/N asked. 

“Wow, for a Ravenclaw you don’t seem to be that smart”, he laughed. “I err...I wanted to ask you.”

“What?” her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. “You’re joking, aren’t you?

“Why would I be joking?” they had now stopped dancing, both just staring at each other on the dance floor.

“Because you’re the one who asked Angelina first!”

“I only asked Angelina, because you were clearly flirting with the Durmstrang boy!”

“I wasn’t flirting with him!”

“You asked him to the ball, didn’t you?”

“I asked him because you had asked Angelina right in front of me!”

Fred couldn’t help, but to stat laughing uncontrollably.

“What?” Y/N asked, not seeing what was so funny about the situation.

“This is ridiculous!”

“Why is that?”

“I thought you were flirting with the Durmstrang boy, so I got jealous and asked Angelina, which made you get jealous and drove you to ask the Durmstrang boy!”

Now Y/N was starting to laugh too, seeing how ridiculous their situation truly was.

“We’re both bloody idiots, aren’t we?”

“Maybe idiocy loves company too”, Fred smiled and finally closed the gap between them.

After breaking apart from the kiss, which had started out innocent, but had been well on it’s to getting them both kicked out of the ball, the pair noticed way too many grinning faces around them. Y/N was quite sure she saw a few of her friends exchanging coins.

“I think I could use some fresh air”, Fred said, glaring at his friends. 

“Me too, How about a walk around the garden?” Y/N smiled.

The two left hand in hand followed by a choir of ‘ooh’s produced by their friends, which they chose two ignore. As soon as they had sat down on the grass under the grass, Fred tried to lean in, but she stopped him by putting her finger on his lips.

“I want to talk with you”, she said.

“That’s new”, he smirked.

“Shut up”, she rolled her eyes. “I feel like tonight and everything leading up to tonight kind of proved something.”

“Proved what?”

“That we need to figure this out.”

“What’s there to figure out? You like me, I like you. Let’s just go back to how it was a few weeks ago.”

“Are you serious? Everything is to figure out. We’re stuck in the middle of lovers and friends. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it too. We’re not dating, but we’re not friends, we get jealous, but don’t say anything about it, because we’re not together. But if we were just friends, we wouldn’t have any reason to be jealous.”

“It’s not ideal, is it?”

“We’re losing every part of the benefit.”

“I wasn’t planning on admitting this, but you hurt me more than I ever knew” he said and Y/N saw a veil pulled back, a mask of confidence being removed. Fred had wanted to keep up the player reputation, but he found out just how bitter his own medicine tasted. “And it’s shitty ‘cause I’m doing the same to you.”

“We’ll figure it out”, she promised, placing her hand on top of his. He looked up at her sparkling eyes.

“The moonlight really does you justice you know”, he said quietly.

“Same goes for you too”, she said back, their faces now mere inches from each other.

And without realizing, they didn’t talk about well...anything for the rest of the night, especially not about what they were. But luckily, Y/N was determined to not put the conversation off for another day. So at breakfast the next day after the ball, she went up to him at his table.

“Have any time?” she asked.

“Always for you, love”, he smiled sheepishly. “Don’t wait up!” he yelled to his friends as she grabbed is hand and dragged him away.

“An empty classroom, eh?” he wiggled his eyebrows as they arrived to the destination.

“Keep it in your pants, pervert. We still haven’t talked.”

“Right. I guess we did get a little distracted last night.”

“Are we exclusive or not?” she asked, wanting to get the conversation over with.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do? Seems like you love me a lot.” he grinned.

“Can we stop the joking and take me seriously?”

“Fine”, he sighed. “I’ll do my very best, bu we’ll have to wait and see”, he promised while leaning in.

Their problem seemed to be that with them talks turn into sleepless nights and sleepless nights turn into love. For Y/N, love turns into impatience.

“You still haven’t answered me”, she cornered him one day in an empty corridor.

“About what?”

“What are we?”

“I did answer you. I said we are whatever you want us to be.”

“That’s not how it works! Both of us need to agree on it. You saying you’re fine with everything means that you don’t want anything serious!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does. It means that you just want to keep doing whatever you want with whoever you want!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I haven’t been doing anything with anyone. This is just about you not trusting me!”

“No, this is about you avoiding every conversation I try to have about this, which is why I can’t trust you. You’re clearly just waiting until you eventually get sick of me and want to move on with as little breaking up and guilt as you can!”

And now we both fucked up.

“So you still think of me like that? A player who is just waiting for an opportunity to jump on the next girl that comes by, huh?” he asked, hurt by her words.

“Nothing has changed since the Yule Ball. We’re still stuck in the middle.”

“You need to understand that I don’t want anyone else. If I have to be stuck in the middle with someone, I want to be stuck in the middle with you.”

He pulled her in for a hug. Tighter than any other one before. It was like he was scared of letting go. Their problem was how bad they were at feelings. Especially their feelings for each other, that were growing stronger by the moment. ‘Cause fights turn into making up and making up turns into love. Neither of them were brave enough to admit that they were falling in love with each other. Not to themselves, and certainly not to the other person. 

“I want us to be together”, Fred murmured into her hair. 

“What?”

“You’ve asked me a million times what I want us to be and I didn’t want to admit this because...I don’t know why. Perhaps because I’ve never cared about what anyone thinks of me as much as I care about what you think of me. And besides, relationships turn into love and-”, he took a deep breath. Y/N saw that this was another one of those moments when the mask of confidence and cockyness was being removed. “Love turns into forever and to be honest, that scares me.”

“I think that scares both of us.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a Gryffindor”, he smiled, the mask not coming back, but a slight glimmer in his eyes appearing. “Facing fears is kind of our thing. So what do you say Y/N? Want to be with me forever and ever and ever?”

Y/N replied by simply kissing him.

“Is that a yes or-?”, he asked once they broke apart.

“You’re even dafter than I thought, Weasley. Of course it’s a yes. I want to be yours forever and ever and ever and ever-”, she mocked.

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

And she did. They both broke up with wide smiles on their faces.

“So you’re my boyfriend now, huh?”

“I’m sorry did you prefer lover?”

“Certainly not, I think boyfriend will do for now.”

“As you wish, girlfriend”, he grinned, nudging her slightly.

“Don’t say it like that. Its making me want to go back to friends.”

“Unfortunately you’re stuck with me for forever and ever and ever, remember?”, he said cheerfully and put an arm around her shoulder.

“At least stuck with you and not stuck in the middle.”

[blueberryraindrops]

Blueberry’s Ultimate E-Rated TUA Masterlist

KEY

Fics are organised alphabetically (articles e.g. ‘the’ will not count)

Download links are EPUB files only 

authors can feel free to send me a msg if they want their fics’ download link taken down

Regular updates can be expected as long as I remain in the fandom

Last Update: 15/10/2020

Other Masterlists: All Fics; G-Rated; T-Rated; M-Rated

FANFICTION

☁︎ actions are worth a thousand words by achilleees { E }

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“I think it would be best if we keep up the ruse for a short while longer,” Five said. “For the sake of time-space continuity.”

“Oh, so Klaus was right before, huh?” Diego said. “The fabric of the universe unravels if my hairdresser knows we’re not boning?”

☁︎ all dressed up and naked by cathect { E }

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The skirt hanging off of it is pleated and pale pink, with two white stripes near the hem— like a cheerleader might wear, Diego thinks wildly— and Five looks almost awed. Diego doesn’t want to assume anything by an expression alone, but he can’t quite help it.

Before he can stop himself, the words are tumbling out. “That would look good on you.”

Or, the one where diego fucks five while he's wearing a skirt.

☁︎ As I Want You to Hear Me by karcheri { E }

→ Download Here

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

Five sighs.

“I’m trying to prove that our current timeline has branched off from it’s initial trajectory by such a large margin that it could only have been caused by the existence of unknown variables interrupting the timeline at non-linear points throughout history. I believe that we are living in...let’s call it timeline 2.0.”

“I don’t understand,” Diego says. Nutcase, he thinks. Insanely hot nutcase.

This time Five smirks at him, looking bratty and arrogant and entirely too sharp; “I know you don’t.”

Or: What I like to imagine alternate/Sparrow Academy timeline 2019 Five and Diego are up to

☁︎ Bloom by jenpix { E }

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The first thing he noticed was the heat. A sudden, overwhelming heat. It started by his neck, his throat tightening, cutting off oxygen to his brain. The heat spread lower, permeating throughout his chest and abdomen, focusing and growing in his groin. Every inch of his skin was on fire. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think. He needed something- anything- to relieve the ache that had abruptly settled in his bones. Lust utterly consumed him.

“Something’s wrong.” Diego concluded.

☁︎ Call Me Wild Thing by Electra_XT { E }

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“Diego’s been screwing guys who look exactly like you,” Klaus said.

“True,” Five said.

“He acts embarrassed when you encounter him with one of these lookalikes,” Klaus said.

“True,” Five said.

“You want to bang him,” Klaus said.

Five hesitated.

☁︎ Digging Up The Past by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }

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"You want to roleplay me being raped." Five muses, stirring his margarita. He plucks out the tiny umbrella and leaves it abandoned on the edge of the table.

Diego splutters, before glancing wildly over his shoulders.

Five and Diego are in a busy bar, and Diego had absentmindedly suggested Five looking particularly hot, especially when he's pliant, almost as if he's being -

"What the fuck? Shut up, Five." Diego hisses, eyes darting around. "Anyone can hear you."

Five says nothing.

Or: Unfortunately, the roleplay triggers a memory Five desperately wishes he'd forget.

☁︎ Dulce Periculum (Danger Is Sweet) by Anonymous { E }

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Klaus swallows heavily.

He brings up the hand that says “Goodbye” on the palm up to Five's hair and rakes his fingers through the strands. When Klaus is blessed with a high pitched whine, he knows he's done for.

or: Five wants something stronger than alcohol.

☁︎ Gift-Wrapped by punk_rock_yuppie { E }

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Diego discovers Five's secret.

☁︎ god-intoxicated by chrysostomos (nantes) { E }

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Of all the things Diego expected to get dragged into this month, meeting a mythological witch, finding out Five is married, and rescuing him from his unwanted sun god husband were not on the list.

☁︎ handling myself by achilleees { E }

→ Download Here

Five pressed his lips together. “I advise against… touching them with your bare hands,” he said, taking the pills out of his pocket and dropping them into Diego’s gloved palm. “It would be unwise.”

In the light streaming from the Academy windows, Diego could see the sheen of sweat on his skin, trickling down his temple.

“Oh my god,” Diego said, starting to laugh.

☁︎ I Want It (I Got It) by Electra_XT { E }

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“Oh, Christ,” Five said, starting to grin. “Diego, no. Don’t tell me you’re actually into being called—”

“Shut up,” Diego muttered.

“It’s not sexy,” Five said. “It’s cliche and corny and macho and self-aggrandizing, and I’m disappointed in you.” He waited a beat. “Daddy.”

☁︎ Jealousy Sucks by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }

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"God, Diego." Five rubbed his temples, sounding exasperated. "He's our brother."

"I'm your brother, too." Diego blurts out. Fuck, now he's sounding like an insecure, whiny boyfriend. Perfect.

Five just stares back at Diego, his eyebrows burrowing.

At the physical age of seventeen, Five has, in Klaus' words, grown up hot.

☁︎ Kinktober Day 12 - Crossdressing by Multifangirl69 { E }

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The Umbrella Academy Kinktober Fest//Day 12

☁︎ master of my domain by achilleees { E }

→ Download Here

“You’re asking five 13-year-old boys not to jerk off for – it can’t be done,” Luther says. “Now that we’re older, it would be different, but back then –”

“Excuse me, I could do it,” Five says. “I could certainly outlast all of you.”

They all look at each other.

“Oh, no,” says Allison.

☁︎ Need a Vacation by Electra_XT { E }

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“You ready for a relaxing weekend at the beach?” Diego said.

“Thrilled,” Five said, looking down at the map in his hands. “A relaxing weekend of hunting down a hired killer and pretending I’m dating my brother.”

☁︎ Out of My Mind by Electra_XT { E }

→ Download Here

“What happened?” Diego said. He looked down at himself. “Am I hurt?”

What happened? echoed a voice from the back of his head.

☁︎ Raising the Bar by Electra_XT { E }

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Five looked ten years older. He was still youthful, early twenties, but he had suddenly and visibly become an adult. Diego had braced himself for… something, but not this. He was dressed heartbreakingly preppy— neatly tailored slacks, a shirt that fit him like it was made for him, and a casual blazer. Diego hadn’t known a blazer could be casual before, but the way Five wore the linen jacket made it seem genuinely effortless.

Of all the ways this new body thing could have gone, Diego didn’t expect him to be hot.

☁︎ Second First Time by venDi { E }

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Five spent his early years learning about Alpha biology -- and he knows, recognizes the sudden shift in his family's scent, that his heat has sent them all into a very, very early rut.

☁︎ Servus by Anonymous { E }

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"They had been given a chance to start over, all of them, together. At least, that’s what Five intended, when he pulled he and his siblings from imminent death...He had watched his siblings be swept back to their collective childhood, armed with the knowledge of what was to come, and how to prevent it. He, on the other hand, had ended up somewhere entirely different."

Five receives one, final business proposal from the Handler, and her methods of persuasion are far from conventional.

☁︎ Shadow Elixir, The by Phantom_Vidar { E / WIP }

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With the apocalypse averted the Hargreeves attempt to rebuild their lives and transition into something that resembles a fraction of normalcy. A year later and strange visions start appearing to Klaus, of a dark space contaminated by souls bygone and a voice who aches to be free; especially Ben's. The apocalypse has passed but now another disaster awaits— one that Diego and Five might have accidentally walked into.

Alternatively: Diego and Five have sex and coincidentally start the next stage of the end of the world.

☁︎ time on my hands by achilleees { E }

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“If you orgasm, you’ll die,” Five said with a grimace.

Diego’s eyes went wide.

“Bet you wish you’d just been sterilized now,” Five said.

☁︎ world of options, a by achilleees { E }

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“So did you ask Five about me?” Klaus asked.

“Was I supposed to do that?” Diego said.

“You are the worst fucking wingman,” Klaus said.

☁︎ year that wasn't, the by achilleees { E }

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Diego turned to Five. “I’ve already, uh, lived today. This has already happened.”

Everyone went still.

“Ooh, that’s a mind-fuck,” said Klaus.

☁︎ zero to sixty by achilleees { E }

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“Man, have you seen me?” said Diego. “Are you really that surprised?”

Oh, Five thought.

“Seems right,” said Klaus, pleased. “Other than the turtlenecks. Very hard to take you seriously as a Dom in the turtlenecks.”

[orbitariums]

Hello! Can I please get an imagine of Peter reacting to his gf's house being haunted by like actually spirits and maybe even a demon but she seems completely calm and cool with it? Thank you!

sorry for the wait! i was really excited to write this, so here it is :)) i’m sorry if this is like corny or whatever, i tried !!

BOO! | peter parker + reader 

     You sighed in content as you laid your head on Peter’s shoulder. You were already very close together, cuddling next to each other, both of you wrapped in one blanket that fit the two of you. You each had your knees cradled to your chest and you were quite comfortable. The lights were off, and the big TV in front of you was glaring as the screen switched frames and shots.

     You were watching The Conjuring, before anything really scary started to happen. Since your parents were out of town and you were to be home alone for a few days, you had been inviting Peter over most nights. You didn’t do this to be defiant, you did it because nights home alone at your house got a little… weird. You didn’t mind much, you were used to it. But you found no reason not to have an excuse (which your parents allowed!) for your boyfriend to come over every night- besides the expected reason.

     Peter, wearing his new glasses, was watching the screen intensely, and when you looked up at him, your cheeks squished into his shoulder, you saw him looking forward. He looked so cute like that, all focused and all, and you kissed his jaw slightly to get his attention. He placed a hand over yours but was still watching the movie, fascinated by the film he’d never seen before - meanwhile, you, a horror and occult aficionado, had seen it time and time again.

     “I kinda wanna make out with you right now,” you said out of nowhere, and Peter never snapped his neck so hard.

     “Whaaat?” he asked, his voice breaking.

     “But we should probably watch the movie, right?” you said, and faced forward instead.

He kept glancing over at you but to no avail - you were completely concentrated on the movie. He cocked his head in confusion and his face was now fully red as he tried to face forward and watch the movie with the same discipline as you.

     “Yeah, of course, obviously. The movie. Right.”

You’d been his girlfriend for a year now and still any physical notions made Peter blush - he was just cute like that.

     “Um, YN… I need to use the bathroom,” Peter announced after about five minutes of uncomfortable silence and a jumpscare that made him literally jump whereas you giggled.

     “Okay… you sound squeamish, Parker,” you looked up at him, making a face.

He frowned and complained like a child as he huffed his way out of the living room and into the hall,

     “You can’t just say you wanna make out and then do that!”

     You laughed to yourself because you knew he was just being a baby, and then he had disappeared around the corner to get to the bathroom. But on his way there, passing through the dark hallway, he felt a little uneasy. He didn’t know why, maybe it was just the movie scaring him more than he had thought initially, at least now that he was alone and navigating your house’s dark and vast hallways.

     But the feeling of unease didn’t go away, and it made his hands clammy. It also didn’t help that in certain parts of the hallway leading to your bathroom it was extremely cold in one spot, and then deathly hot in the next. And still his hands were clammy and sweaty no matter what. He just couldn’t shake this weird feeling he was getting all of the sudden. And his spidey senses weren’t much help in telling him why he was feeling the way he was.

          “Chill out, Peter. You’re Spiderman,” he muttered to himself, and that made him smile for just a minute.

     When he got to your bathroom he didn’t think twice about the cologne he was smelling all of the sudden, until he realized that it was designed for men and had a distinct scent to it. Like it wasn’t from this time, if that made any sense. He thought that was strange, but he brushed it off as something normal, like maybe your dad had sprayed a lot of cologne before leaving, even though that had been two days ago. 

          Then again, Peter did have a particularly good sense of smell. He cleared his throat and walked up to the side of the mirror where the light was to turn it on, and turned around to start using the toilet. But before he could unzip his pants the lights had flickered and gone off. Then when he turned around to try and turn it off and on again, the light was back on.

     Now he was a little bit more uneasy, but he brushed it off again. He was definitely scared by that movie subconsciously and now he was overanalyzing everything- yes, that was it. He cleared his throat as he unzipped his pants and when the lights flickered off, this time promising no return, he just rolled his eyes.

     But as soon as he was done, reaching down to flush the toilet, he heard a loud BANG from behind him. He gasped harshly, taking up every inch of his breath in the gasp, and jerked himself around, only to see nothing there, of course. He was perturbed, but now just plain confused. The banging seemed to have come from the actual mirror itself. But the mirror was all in one piece.

     Shaken now, and just wanting to get back to you, lamenting the fact that he’d have to run down the halls that seemed like a labyrinth of twisty turns and winds, he tried to at least turn the light back on so he could have that sense of security. He paused when he saw that the light switch was pointing down, even though he had left it up. He knew that even if the lights had gone out, the light switch would still be on. Or was he confusing himself? He was panting now, just trying to remember, and his eyes were darting everywhere in the dark as he tried to detect someone, anyone in the room.

     Sickened, Peter could feel a presence in the room, but it certainly wasn’t human. All rational thoughts were leaving his mind now. For him, a rational thought could even be that it was some bad guy villain he was going to have to fight off now, but he was so shaken by the pure evil energy in the room that he absolutely skipped past any alternatives, and now he was just thinking of paranormal things. He rushed to turn on the faucet and winced when the water was too hot for him to wash his hands under, but eventually it cooled down.

     Now, one might think that if Peter had any sense, he’d have ran out of the bathroom by now, but all he was thinking of in his head was the rhyme he had been taught in preschool and kindergarten: “if you don’t wash your hands, you’ll get the Germ-Man!” The Germ-Man was perhaps even scarier to him than whatever was happening right now, so he was scrubbing his hands intensely and trying to wash his hands before something more happened.

     Now, instead of a bang, Peter heard a whisper desperately close in his ear. So close, it felt as though he could even feel cold, slimy lips with a hot tongue just gently trace against his neck and ear. And in that moment all he wanted was to go back to the couch and feel your face against his neck instead of this nonsense. The whisper was incoherent, mainly because he didn’t speak Latin, which was exactly what he was hearing: “lux abscondit infernum” the voice drawled into his ear, a ragged, deep whisper. He was just rinsing the soap off of his hands and he couldn’t even scream, but he did let out a strained whimper as he shoved the faucets off and bolted out of the room.

     As he ran at a high speed down the hallway, definitely knocking down things in his path, he literally thought he was being chased. In hindsight, he probably wasn’t, but that was exactly how it felt. His body was running off of pure fight or flight and he had chosen flight. Now he was winding as fast as he could down multiple dark, scary hallways, his head making him hear distorted laughter and the same voice in his ear telling him “run, boy, run!” It even sounded like your voice for a minute, just incredibly deep and distorted, and that made him want to cry, because he knew it was definitely, definitely not you.

     It seemed like he would never get back to you, or the living room, not in one piece at least, but he did. He skidded to a halt when he reached the doorway and you were already standing up in concern, the movie on pause and your face twisted in confusion even before you saw him. You hadn’t heard the banging in the bathroom, but you had heard Peter skeeting and skidding down the hallway and knocking things over. 

Granted, you heard those sounds when Peter wasn’t with you and you were home alone, but now that Peter was with you you were tasked with figuring out whether this was normal or not. You decided it wasn’t when you saw him panting in front of you, and running towards you.

     When he wrapped his arms around you, you thought he was going for a panicked hug, but then you realized he was trying to protect you, which you found adorable.

     “YN!” he gasped out, breathing heavily, sweat formed at the top of his forehead. He practically cradled you and you barreled backwards from his unbecoming force. “YN, we have to get out of here, there’s someone… something in the house, I don’t know what it is, but we-”

     “Peter, Peter,” you struggled to get his attention because he was clearly so shaken,

     “Just gotta get out of here and-”

     “Peter,” you said louder, now prying him off of you, with no success.

     “I just want you to be safe, I don’t want anything to happen to you and I-” his voice was dear and trembling, you could tell he really meant what he was saying.

     “Peter!” you had to shout to get him to pay attention, and he broke away from you, not because he was really even listening but because he was worried again, and he held your hands from the new distance and started to practically inspect you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you pried his hands off of you and placed yours on his shoulders to ground him. “Peter. Calm down, please. It’s okay.”

     “YN, something is in your house!” Peter whisper-screamed, trying to contain himself and utterly, bitterly failing.

     “Peter, just listen to me, I can explain. Honestly.”

He pouted, folding his arms, and his face looked angry but you knew he was just shaken up. He was still so cute. You led him back to the couch and sat him down, and you sat next to him, facing him in conversation.

     “I don’t know how you can possibly explain what I just heard and felt YN,” he grumbled, folding his arms.

     “Oh but I can. Listen, alright, it’ll do you some good. Okay? Okay. So… you know how I told you my mom works in… customer service?”

     “Literally no idea what that has to do with anything, at all!”

     “Oh my god, Peter!”

    “Sorry,” he muttered.

    “Okay, well… what I left out of that is that she’s actually a bit of a… well, a witch. She prefers to be called a spiritualist but you know, we all have different words for it. Now, before you freak out-”

But Peter was oddly calm - after all, he was Spiderman. Still, he was a bit surprised to hear this.

     “Let me just tell you, she’s not evil or wicked. She grew up with magick so I grew up with it in return. And she basically works for people and casts spells and performs rituals for them for a price, to get them the result they want. And she’s been doing this for years now. So my house is constantly just witched out. My room is pretty chill, that’s why I’ve let you in there, but my mom’s room is always locked when we have guests over, and that’s because she has a bunch of shit in there. Crystals, pendulums, ouija boards, brujeria shit, all that witchy stuff. So my house has kind of always been more prone to spirits and just weird activity, if that makes sense.”

Peter jumped at this though, his face wrung in confusion,

     “So you just have spirits and paranormal activity going on all the time and you’re fine with it?!”

     “I mean, yeah. The occasional laughter from the basement, keys jingling, shit being moved when it’s not supposed to be, covers flying off the bed when you’re asleep-”

     “YN!” Peter blurted out, then covering his mouth in retaliation to himself. “You just live with this?”

     “Peter, it’s normal for me, okay. I know it doesn’t make sense and I know it’s scary but it’s my life. So yeah. I just live with it.”

     “Oh my god. So you just have freaking ghosts and spirits walking around all the time and you’re like, ‘oh hey ghostie, no big deal, just getting some food out of the fridge.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his bewilderment, but you hoped he wasn’t actually upset by any of this - like he wouldn’t avoid you after this,

     “Let me finish. Basically, we’ve always had some weird happenings, but-”

     “Yeah, you’re telling me that. I just got my world rocked by some Latin-speaking demon type thing in the bathroom and you’re sitting here calmly telling me that that was probably exactly what it was!” Peter shouted out.

Meanwhile, you just nodded, pursing your lips in thought, too nonchalant,

     “Well… that was probably what it was, yeah. I was getting to that. Anyway, we believe that there is no white or black magick, so anything her customers request goes. But recently my mom has been doing a lot of hexes and curses, and even though she protects herself and us like she’s supposed to, it does attract some… negative energy.”

     “Oh my god, negative energy!” Peter fell back onto his back in disbelief at how calm you were in explaining this to him, when what he’d felt he would describe as evil, not just plain old “negative energy.”

     “Peter, I’m sorry,” you crawled over him, practically on his lap now. “I’m really, really sorry. I’m sorry you got scared and you shouldn’t have had to experience that.”

     “Woah, you’re on me,” Peter commented, his chills practically leaving his body at the simple realization.

     “This is the worst time for you to be a typical teenage boy you know,” you deadpanned, scrambling off of him and he blushed. But he let you continue speaking. “I don’t know what to say, really. I’m sorry.” You looked down and pouted, ashamed of yourself for letting it get to this point. “I know I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want you to be scared of me, you know? Like scared to hang out with me? And I didn’t want you to be upset and…”

     Peter felt bad for yelling now and he pouted, tears forming in his eyes at the sight of you getting teary-eyed. He inched forward and brought you into a hug, enveloping you with his warmth and feeling your heartbeat against him, calming him down. He let his fingers run through your hair and he pulled you as close to him as possible, and you buried your face in his shirt, taking in his scent.

     “Oh, YN,” he pouted and held you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled, I was just really scared.”

     “It’s okay,” you forgave him, laughing slightly.

     “No, it’s not okay,” he countered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, at all. I could never be afraid to hang out with you, I don’t care what’s going on in your life or your… messed up house,” he tried to bring some humor to the situation and you both chuckled. “But really though. I like you too much for that to matter. Hundred percent.”

     “Really?”

     “Really. I could never be angry with you or upset at you for something you can’t control… although, you can control it, right? Like, you’re gonna call a priest or something? Because that was really scary.”

You laughed as you pulled away from him, looking him in the eyes.

     “We’re working on it. My mom’s been saging the house like crazy, we’re planning on calling a priest. I always felt spirits around but baby, you look like you felt a demon,” you frowned, pushing his hair back as you noted the sweat on his forehead and how pale he was.

He gulped and nodded,

     “Yeah, something like that. It was really scary…”

     “Yeah? Tell me what happened.”

     He explained everything to you and that was enough for the two of you to leave the house for that night, and go over to MJ’s instead. Also, you understood a bit of Latin from what your mom was into and “light hides hell” probably didn’t have a good meaning. When you both got to MJ’s, neither of you quite fully explained what happened, not even when Ned came along too. But being around friends, and out of the house, away from whatever Peter had to deal with, was much better.

     “Peter, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” MJ commented bleakly. “No offense. You just look paler than usual.”

     “Yeah, you okay?” Ned echoed.

     “I am now,” Peter replied, pulling you closer to him, and turning to face you with a smile, which you gracefully returned.

The rest of the night went quite smoothly, although, when Peter was in the kitchen getting snacks for all of you, he felt something behind him again. He didn’t even want to look- he was bracing himself, trying to figure out the probability that MJ had ghosts, or that whatever was in the bathroom had followed him. Then he heard it, a voice from behind him.

     “Boo!” you shouted, and Peter turned around just in time to scream.

When he saw it was just you, he was relieved, but also pissed at you. Meanwhile, you were cackling away.

     “God, I hate you,” he held his chest, breathing in and out heavily.

     “Really? Because sources say you quite like me, Parker.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smirk at your stupid joke,

     “Yeah, they’re right.”

When he pulled you in to kiss you, proving you right, he realized no amount of paranormal activity could spook him from you.

[dancingsparks]

How Laurent Got A Date Despite Being A Condescending Idiot

Thank you at my wonderful beta and the Capri Discord for inspiring me!

Also on Ao3

***

“I’ll go talk to him,�� with a decisive nod, Vannes empties the last of her glass.

“Sure, if you think that would be fun. I won’t stop you.”

“Laurent, that was a threat. You were supposed to stop me and beg me not to, giving me the perfect opportunity to suggest you go over there. You have been drooling all evening and quite frankly, I am sick of it.” Laurent can feel himself blush as his eyes flit again to the man in question. It’s undeniable - he is very attractive. He is tall, a wild mess of dark curls on his head, ridiculously athletic and a warm laugh that reverberates through the entire room. However, Laurent had most definitely not been drooling over him. He glares at her for daring to suggest he would, receiving only a smirk.

“You do know how a threat works, right? It’s supposed to scare me into doing as you want. As I don’t care about him, there is nothing you could say to him that would make me want to go over there myself.”

“Okay, no threat then,” Vannes shifts in her chair, leaning closer to him, “let’s make it a challenge, shall we? I don’t think you have the guts to go over. I think you are scared to talk to him and would much rather sit here and whine later about the hot guy who didn’t talk to you.” She is right. Terribly, embarrassingly right and by the smug expression on her face she knows it too. Laurent throws his napkin at her. Vannes catches it and throws it right back, but this time Laurent doesn’t catch it, too caught up in staring at the ‘hot guy’. He is talking to a friend now, possibly a brother, laughing again, drawing Laurent in like a moth to the flame - helpless and doomed to burn.

Not only has she terrifying insight in his motivation, Vannes knows exactly what she is doing when she phrases it as a challenge - Laurent was never able to resist one of those and the wretched woman knows that all too well. “I don’t even know what to say to him, I will make a complete fool out of myself and he will laugh me in the face.”

“Nonsense, the room is full of very important and very sophisticated people. He would discreetly make fun of you with his friends after you left.” Laurent turns back to her, glaring. This doesn’t help his nerves at all, or her cause. “Look darling, this is one of those charity functions that few know the purpose of. He won’t be interested in what you have to say. Tell him you have money, tell him it’s more than you know what to do with. You are pretty, you are rich - that is all it takes here. Just smile, say something obnoxiously witty and throw your money around.”

That is not what Laurent wants to do at all. He is only here because Auguste asked him to and he is weak when it comes to his brother. There are very good reasons Auguste will inherit the company and Laurent will be his adviser. One being that Laurent is not good at dealing with shallow people, with this kind of events, smiling through insults and pretending to care. Neither is Auguste, but the difference is that he is utterly charming about it, it’s impossible not to like him.

“Why would I want to do that, exactly?”

“Because I dared you to. Now go.” She gives him a rather strong push, winks at him and orders a new drink as an have an excuse to flirt with the bartender. Laurent sighs. He knows he is being played, he isn’t stupid, and she couldn’t have made it more blatant. He should just stay here, defy her expectations and save his dignity. All the same Laurent stands up, cursing himself for being predictable and easy to manipulate, yet determined to make the best of it.

Thankfully the man is alone by the time Laurent reaches him - this will be painful enough without people to witness him. Laurent takes a deep breath, reminds himself of Vannes’s advice and puts on a bright smile.

“Hey there, what is someone as beautiful as you doing all alone?” Laurent cringes internally at the corny line, but the man rewards him with a warm chuckle that makes something flutter in chest. Perhaps it’s his heart, beating faster than it should, loud and surely audible to everyone else in the room.

“I could ask you the same. Why don’t you join me, remedy this situation for both of us?” His smile is even brighter up close, small and amused but sincere, revealing dimples that give him a cheeky charm. He is irresistible, and Laurent agrees before he can stop himself.

“I’m Damen, what’s your name? I don’t think I have seen you around before, I would have remembered.” There is something suggestive about his tone, stealing Laurent’s breath and making him blush. This is not how this was supposed to go, Laurent was supposed to be the charming and suave one, making him flustered and stumbling over his words. All Damen had to do was smile at him. Desperately he clings to what Vannes told him, to what these people always do when they have an unexpected problem: throw money at it.

“Laurent DeVere. Pleased to meet you,” wide smile here. “I’m sure you heard of my family - we are very wealthy.”

Damen laughs at that, throwing his head back, expressing his amusement with a full body laugh. Laurent is afraid he said something wrong but then Damen smiles at him, soothing the worry and replacing it with pride at making him laugh like that, like no one else did this evening, like he would like to do again. “Laurent DeVere, allow me to say the pleasure is all mine.”

The phrase is often used and seldom meant but considering the way Damen holds his eyes, speaking in an earnest tone, Laurent thinks he might mean it. Or maybe he is a fool charmed by pretty eyes and a bright smile. Laurent doesn’t care either way - he is having more fun right now than the rest of his time at this dreadful thing, so he would not question it now.

“So, Damen, do you often frequent charity events?” Damen gives him a considering look, as if confused, but Laurent keeps his smile up. It was a normal question, there is no reason to be weird about it. Except if Damen doesn’t - oh no, what if Damen is here as someone’s plus one? Not invited personally because he doesn’t have the money to donate or the importance to be seen here. Now Laurent is forcing him to admit to something one would like to hide here. He is about to apologise but Damen is faster.

“Not as many as I would like, I am very busy you see.” Busy - of course. Laurent doesn’t believe him, but he would also not question him further, he humiliated the poor man enough for an evening. But there is something he could do to make it up to him - he gets invited to more events than he cares to count and if Damen wants to go, it would only be right to invite him along.

“You know, I could take you with me, to the next event. I always get terribly bored - but with you as my arm candy-” Laurent stops when he realises what he is saying. Trying to make it look intentional, he puts on the most pretentious expression he can muster - which is incredibly and disgustingly pretentious in his humble opinion - and gives Damen a cocky smirk. Once again Damen watches him steadily, a small smile curling his lips but his eyes clearly calculating.

“I don’t know-” Damen begins but Laurent interrupts him. He came too far to back off now.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I could send you a car if you need one. It would be very rude of me not to take care of my guest,” he is imitating his father when he is lecturing him about something, tone stern and face serious, but he adds a smile at the end because he really does want Damen to say yes. To Laurent’s surprise, he enjoys talking to Damen, despite the restrictions laid upon him, and would like to get to know him further. Ideally not in such a stiff and proper environment, but he will take whatever he can get.

“Alright then, how could I say no to such an offer,” Laurent feels like he is missing something, like Damen is really laughing at him now, but he doesn’t care. Damen said yes and somehow that is all that is important.

“I have to excuse myself for a moment, promise not to move?” he takes Laurent’s hands in his, eyes pleading with him and giving the simple request more depth than it probably needs. Laurent can’t say no.

“I promise to wait if you promise to come back.” Damen smiles at him, squeezes his hand, presses a quick kiss to his cheek and leaves, gone in the crowd. Laurent misses him already.

Laurent sinks down at a nearby desk, settling down for the wait and trying to reason this out. It’s ridiculous, that he should be so affected by someone who is only interested because of his money. But then, Laurent did all he could to interest him in his money. Maybe he should use the next evening - decidedly not a date - to talk about other things, find out who Damen is and test if he is interested in finding out who he is in turn.

“If I could get your attention for a moment,” Laurent groans, a speech is the last thing he needs right now. But the voice is familiar, almost like - but that can’t be, impossible. Laurent looks up, seeing that it is indeed Damen standing in the middle of the crowd, a space cleared around him, microphone in hand and a bright smile on his face. What is he doing?

“I wanted to thank you all for coming to this event - it means a great deal to me and being allowed to host it has been a great honour. I am sure the money donated today will make many lives better. I would love to keep talking to you all, but I have a stunning blond who keeps flirting with me and I would like to get back to him and I am sure you have your own things to get back to.” Damen says some more about the charity and how they could help further if interested but Laurent isn’t listening. This is mortifying! Humiliating! He wishes the ground would open and swallow him. The closest he can get to that is hiding beneath the table, which is cowardly and disgraceful, but he would do anything to get away now, before Damen comes back.

Trying to subtly glide of his chair and under the table to where the long tablecloth would finally shield him only results in him falling on his knees as he loses his balance, ripping down the whole thing with everything on it, creating a huge crash and turning every eye on him. Fantastic. Whispers break out, muffled laughter and pitying looks, and Laurent wants away. This has been a terrible idea, he should leave and forget everything about Damen and this mess and blame everything on Vannes.

“What’s someone as beautiful as you doing all alone on the floor?” Laurent flinches as Damen repeats the corny line he had used on him, throwing in his face how he behaved. Laurent is still thinking on his reply when Damen sits down next to him, closer than necessary for a conversation but not quite touching. He looks at Damen in confusion, shouldn’t he be laughing at him right now?

“I meant it, I really would like to flirt some more.” Damen is smiling, as if it where that easy.

“You are hosting this party.” It comes out more accusing than he hoped, but accusing is better than crying so he goes with it. Damen does looks appropriately scolded, blushing and fidgeting.

“Yes, I thought you knew. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Despite what his head tells him, Laurent, foolish and naive and hopeful, believes him. Damen is here, not laughing, sitting on the ground, surrounded by broken glass and spilled drinks, next to Laurent and smiling at him. It suddenly hits him that he could love this man, easily, that already he doesn’t want him to leave.

“I suppose I won’t have to take you to the next event then? That you will be invited yourself?” Laurent needs to know where they stand, if Damen even wants to be around him after the condescending way he behaved.

“No, and I don’t want to go anyway,” Laurent’s heart falls at that. Of course, he doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “I would much rather take you out on a date.”

Damen is smiling, small and crooked, dimple on his face and curls falling in his eyes.

How could Laurent say no?

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.12

Ao3  N.11  N.13

Preview: “What conclusions did you come to?” “That I might go home unless some sign tells me to go back in there.” Richie leaned forward against the steering wheel and let his arms spread out on the dashboard, as far as they could stretch. “Guess you came at a good time, huh?” At that, Stan actually giggled and laid a hand on the back of Richie’s neck. “Ah, I knew I heard the voice of the Universe calling out.”

Saturday 29.05.1993

 “Has anyone seen Richie?”

At first, it surprised him that the words didn’t come out of his mouth. Instead, everyone looked up at Beverly, who had come up behind the couch with apprehension in her steps. Secondly, it annoyed him how everyone turned their heads to stare at him in hopes for an answer.

“What are you looking at me for? I’ve been with you ever since we got here.” Eddie defended himself from four inquiring pairs of eyes.

Bev huffed out in stress. “It’s not like we have things scheduled, but Mike and I haven’t seen him for over an hour.” Speaking of which, Mike chose that exact moment to appear behind the redhead speaking. The four heads that were fixed on Bev inched slowly to the left, trying to catch every word Mike said with all the noise in the barn.

“-Someone just told me they saw him heading down the street about the same time we lost sight of him.” Mike explained to her. His eyes pooled with uneasiness and Eddie was sure he, himself, looked similar, but he bottled it up.

“What?” She asked incredulous. “But where could he even go by foot?”

Bill raised his hand slowly and cleared his throat. “He d-did mention something about taking muh-my car keys earlier.” Now, yes. Eddie started to sweat.

No one actually said anything for a while, and then Mike had the decency to answer in the name of everyone before any of them could verbally attack Bill.

“And you simply gave them? To Richie?”

Bill raised both hands in defence. “He asked if I had a spuh-sspare jacket! I didn’t think much of i-it…”

“Okay, well. Great, I’ll go look for him.” Before Beverly had the chance to follow through her words, Stan got up and caught her wrist mid turning around. She looked back at him.

“I’ll go, if you don’t mind.”

Eddie felt something alike spikes inside his chest, later running down his arms and wrists and clenching his hands into fists, unwillingly. Usually, he was the designated ‘go get Richie’ of the group. It seems like he deserved to lose that role, at least until he fixed things. This particular thought was the start of a long chain of stress inducing others. When Eddie came back to reality after a few simple seconds, Stan had already abandoned the barn and now two more people were squeezed on the couch. He was glad he took the floor instead.

 -

  It was weird.  Usually noise, specially music, was always welcomed, but at the moment there was nothing more blissful than the quiet of Bill’s parked car to Richie’s ears.

Initially, he wanted to free his mind a little, have something to do other than hang out with anyone inside. But once the excuse was used and he finally got some space to breathe inside the car, Richie was actually wondering how bad it would be to drive away and 1. Leave Mike and Bev hanging, and 2. Steal Bill, Ben, Stan and Eddie’s ride back home.

The need to leave came out of nowhere, hit him the forehead with a soundless flick to the brain. Richie would say he had been holding up decently, but tonight… nothing felt right. It was a permanent stressful press around his ribs that gave out a little warning if he even got as far as to inhale too deeply. Shallow breaths only. Just the amount necessary to keep your blood oxygenated.

It would have worked out for longer if he didn’t have a sudden craving for sighing out loud, tonight. Sighing takes more air; sighing means more aching. Who would have guessed a chest could be feel this heavy?

Richie dropped his head against the steering wheel in an act of pure exhaustion. It’s been almost a week since he told Eddie to “find himself”. Which was funny because it was a corny thing to say. But also now, Richie knew he left his own true self back in Eddie Kaspbrak’s bedroom. It sort of took the moral away.

It was the knocking on the window that made him jump further and, inevitably, press onto the horn button. Richie snapped his head up with the sound and stared at Stan’s similar startled expression on the other side of the window. He must have gotten a good scare, if the way he walked around the car with wide eyes and a hand over his chest meant anything. Richie followed him with his eyes until Stan was settled on the passenger seat and shut the door closed.

“That stupid horn made my heart stop.” Stan announced, simply.

“Thought it was my handsome face.” Richie retorted poorly.

“Why are you hiding out here? You got us worried.”

“That’s it? No lecture about, possibly, driving away without a license?” Richie threw his head back against the head-rest and closed his eyes.

“I think I gave you enough lectures this month.”

That took a good chuck out of him. “Yeah, that’s about right.” He heard Stan sigh, but neither talked for a moment.

“… Richie, I’m sorry for acting this way, sometimes.” Richie opened his eyes but decided against facing his friend. “For getting pissed off so easily, for being on top of you constantly when it’s not my place.”

“Nah.” He brushed him off. “I know that’s who you are. We get on each other nerves and that’s the fun of it.”

“Some might argue…” Stan whispered. Richie went on.

“Apology taken, though. But don’t stop lecturing me, I get off on those big words you use.”

Stan huffed; Richie could guess he rolled his eyes. “I’ll let that pass.” Richie turned sideways to face him. “I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t need to know, but I thought it might be of your interest to tell you we had a really great time watching you guys last week.”

“You mean… Besides the lack on trust.”

“Besides our lack of trust.” Stan nodded in agreement. “Eddie and I feel sorry, I think you already know that, but here it is again. To remind you.”

It felt weird to have such a serious conversation with Stan, of all people. Stan was mostly made out of seriousness, but between Richie’s mood not being for fun at the moment and Stan showing any sort of honest affection… yeah, it was weird. Good, too.

“It’s a nice reminder.”

“Well I’d hope so.” Stan offered a short smile.

“To vaguely fill your curiosity, I don’t know why I’m here. T’was to much, just wanted to think.” Richie saw the exact moment Stan had to bite down a funny remark. They both sat there looking at each other with the need to chuckle out loud. It ended up fading.

“What conclusions did you come to?”

Sighing (again), Richie thought of a good way to answer. “That I might go home unless some sign tells me to go back in there.” He leaned forward against the steering wheel again and let his arms spread out on the dashboard, as far as they could stretch. “Guess you came at a good time, huh?”

At that, Stan actually giggled and laid a hand on the back of Richie’s neck. “Ah, I knew I heard the voice of the Universe calling out.”

 Eventually, both of them left the car behind and made their way back. Once the barn’s structure became clearer under the night sky, Richie’s stomach started to turn without proper reasons. His uneasiness must have shown, because Stan bumped shoulders with him and added with a clear voice.

“Who knows, maybe tonight will go better than you expect.”

 -

 "Goodnight everyone." Mike's soothing voice spread out evenly through the room. Richie stared religiously at his back covered by an orange toned flannel. "It seemed to us that last week we managed to deliver a new sort of fun for you." The somewhat small crowd cheered. "Hopefully, tonight will be just as great, with a few twists."

Feeling lucky, Richie stole a glance in the direction of the couch. He was pleased to see everyone focused on Mike. Eddie was included in that group, his eyes were shiny, reflecting the warmth from the rows of hanging bulbs. And he had that look in his eyes… Richie knew it very well. It was close to worship, adoration, completely absorption and amaze by what caught Eddie's attention. In simple words, Eddie was angelical in that moment, pure intentions and interests beyond his skin. Richie gulped.

"What we bring to you tonight is something a bit more personal, yet still great for all of you in a hardcore mood to party." Mike's communication skills were obviously different from Richie's, and if he weren't so utterly fucking sober and self-aware, maybe he would have the audacity to joke about it once they were back with their friends. But let's be fair, if Richie weren't so utterly fucking sober, he'd be the one talking to the public right now.

Mike cleared his throat before finishing. "Here are some originals we put our hearts into. We hope you enjoy." Richie waited until Mike turned around and sat on his stool. The three of them shared looks.

‘Okay, this is it.’ Richie thought. ‘A moment I think will matter for life but probably won’t.’

Richie stood there, facing not only a crowd but his two former bandmates. This was all planned. They agreed to keep Richie's identity as the author of the songs a secret. They also agreed to the new setup.

They stood in a triangle, but Richie was in the far back. Mike and Bev completed the other two vertices, standing in the front closer to the crowd. But they were all facing inwards, they were all facing each other. It closed them to the public, it made it more theirs. It stated that "This is for us, not for you. But you can enjoy it if you want."

It made it more special, and Richie couldn't feel more grateful than in the exact moment he saw Bev and Mike lock eyes with each other and share a smile.

They were ready when he was.

They were

"Ready when you are." Bev mouthed, to him and only him. Anyone else could only see part of her profile.

Richie closed his eyes and unclenched his fists. He emptied his mind from outer distractions or intrusive, unwelcomed thoughts and let his fingertips slide through the guitar’s strings.

*Mike didn’t fail to follow Richie’s lead immediately, completing the harmony created by their two instruments. It was as perfect as it could ever sound. It made the wood beneath their feet vibrate. The floor, the walls, the people and the people. It made Richie’s heart pulsate with something new.

  I'm an exception, it's hard to accept Because I try to be happy, but then I forget

They tell me I need to chill, man, It's all in your head

Maybe I'm paranoid

  (The smallest break between verses opened space for whistles and cheers. Richie was vibrating alright.)

  I don't wanna be myself, It's making me so unwell

For the chorus, Beverly joined him with her perfectly tamed voice.

I don't wanna be myself Just wanna be someone else

  …On his side of things, Eddie sat there with empty hands. He felt incredibly alone. In the crowd, no one cared about who was next to each other; and on stage, the three of them didn’t have a single drop of attention on the rest of the room. If Eddie’s chest hadn’t tightened yet with the words coming out of Richie’s mouth, it surely would after what he heard next.

  I once had a thought but don't know where it went 'Cause I've been living off soda and cheap cigarettes

Maybe when I was a kid, I was dropped on my head Yeah, that would make some sense…

  In that moment, a brief image of Richie’s parents came to Eddie’s mind, like a faded, old photograph. He thought about the two adults he met as a kid, they were the cool parents of the group, they were the ones who always welcomed sweaty, dirty children into their house to have a mid-afternoon snack. That image went away as quickly as it came, Eddie tried not to read into things too much but there was a sour aftertaste on the back of his throat. Maybe it was a simple knot.

He allowed his mind to wander while they sang the chorus three more times, each successively less heated. It didn’t take a genius to know who wrote the song, and Eddie had the feeling that next ones would all fit into Richie’s lips like they were born from them. They were, Eddie knew they were. But he didn’t know what to do with that information. This was new, this was Richie himself coming clean about his self-view. Exposing himself to others and allowing everyone to see him as vulnerable. Eddie supposed it made sense that they didn’t state who wrote tonight’s music. They didn’t need to know that much.

His heartbeat was slowing down as if an organ had the ability to feel sad and blue. What was the point of questioning things like that, anymore? They’ve seen enough to believe anything. Right now, Eddie believed that Richie was the bravest person alive. And he knew that he, himself, would never conquer half the things Richie would.

Superficially, he couldn’t help but think about the possibilities of subjects that could come with the next songs while the current one finished with a calm, repeated guitar solo. His weaker side gave it to wondering if there would be anything written about him, about them.

I don't wanna be myself It's making me so unwell I don't wanna be myself Just wanna be someone else

The cheering broke his thoughts away, Eddie caught a glimpse of an inside moment between his three talented friends. * Between heavy breaths and reassuring smiles, they instantly drove off onto a new, more energetic sound. Eddie watched, completely absorbed, to Richie’s frenetic head banging and wild hair swaying. At least he seemed to be having fun, Eddie couldn’t ask for more.

I can be a handful But that's why you have two hands I'm not ever careful And I can be rude, yeah

Defeated, Eddie sank further onto the couch. It seemed that tonight’s track was fixed on a sadder note, if you were to ignore the instrumental and the smiles that painted three faces.

Too many issues, so I wouldn't blame you Bearer of bad news, I've got no excuse

I talk to myself. I think I need help, So what if I’m not okay? I'm not okay I'm bad for my health,   My head's on a shelf.

With the next verses, Eddie felt himself straighten his body from the couch and sitting closer to the edge. It didn’t help to calm his heart rate down that Richie finally, finally, smiled and looked right back into his eyes.

Drinking on a Monday Feeling unstable You said "You're doing it the wrong way" Then you got up on a table

Despite fighting against it, Eddie chuckled at the memory of Richie struggling with a trashcan to get up on the roof. He remembered that Monday night like it was yesterday, when in reality, a whole month has gone by. And holy shit, how much things changed in just a month.  The more he thought about it, the more the crowd faded into numbness and the more the voice in his ears sounded blissful, even though it was a tiny bit too rough to be called that.

Eddie didn’t care anymore, what Richie’s voice did to him was out of this world. It wrecked him right to the core, undressed his emotions down to the purest, unspeakable ones. It was something he was sure he’d never get over, and Eddie even went as far as to wish he had found this side of Richie sooner, way, way sooner.

(So what if I’m not okay? I’m not okay.)

 (I'm just like everyone else, Fucked up like everyone else.)

The next round of applause and cheering was enough to cut the line of Eddie’s thoughts. He jumped slightly on his seat, only now realising he had been staring (dreamily) at Richie while still on the edge of the couch. He awkwardly scooted back against the cushions and joined everyone’s praise at the band. He could see how euphoric Ben was from the corner of his eye. Eddie wished he had the same freedom to love and support a partner.

Instantly, his face got warm. The implications of that particular thought were way to clear to be ignored. God, Eddie was asking himself what those reasons behind him staying clear from more alcohol experimentations tonight were. He soon remembered exactly why-

“Alright everyone, we promise just another one and then you’re free from us.” Bev giggled as she spoke, turning her head sideways to make more eye contact with the generous amount of people entranced in their performance. Eddie smiled sheepishly, that awkward shyness over the attention his friends get still messed with him in an unpleasant way. He couldn’t help it, Eddie despised attention, foreign eyes are unwelcomed. Tonight, however, he was doing a better job at forgetting about that particular part than he was on the last party.

Two things happened at the same time to make Eddie’s eyes widen. They were two small things, but still. One, Richie took a big breath and opened his mouth to speak; and two, Eddie felt weight dropping on his shoulder. It was his instinct acting that instantly made him look at what was weighting him down. He found Bill’s head carefully placed on his smaller shoulder. In reality, Eddie wished he could have commanded his attention to never leave Richie, but when he turned back to the stage with a small smile on his lips (which he didn’t understand the reasons behind), Richie was looking down at his guitar. It was somewhat shocking that he managed to keep the words he planned on saying, down. Eddie deflated on the inside, otherwise Bill’s head would fall off his shoulder. On a bad day, Eddie would have said he wasn’t comfortable with the physical contact because he didn’t want others to get their noses involved, but tonight was a calm night for those types of feelings. Tonight he had to be stronger than to give in on that.

Tonight was important for many different reasons. A new one to add to the list was the depressing level of Richie’s, or so he thought, lyrics. This time, Eddie wouldn’t make more hurtful mistakes.

 Richie didn’t know what he opened his mouth for. He didn’t think much before speaking, maybe that was what if felt like. In fact, he didn’t really have anything useful to say, his mood wasn’t the complete best. So in short, it was better to shut the fuck up and go on with the number one act of the night.

Nerves weren’t that common for him with these things, but he was, in fact, weighting down the possibilities of his stomach dropping so low he would blow chunks all over his sneakers.

Richie closed his eyes, took the millionth deep breath of the night, and focused on Bev’s old, wise words while exhaling through his nose.

(“We should play some of your originals next time.”)

Richie smiled fondly at the bitter sweetness on his tongue. He did what she said, he sang about himself, twice. But the whole point of the night didn’t reside in any of those two songs, but on the third and final one.

(“Something about relevant people in your life.”)

Tonight, Richie would be singing to his parents.

* He kept his eyes closed as he felt the neck of the guitar under his hands. The angry, skilled picking echoed through the barn and his heart skipped a beat once Mike and Bev nailed their entrance, like always. What they tried to accomplish with the melody of this piece was that anyone who heard it would feel it sink in their veins in something unpleasant, revolted and livid. Even if they didn’t pay enough attention to the words, it wouldn’t leave anyone indifferent.

It was Richie’s way of screaming, the only escape from being this angry with everyone around him. He bottled those emotions up and saved them from this exact moment, to pour them sourly all over the stage as easily as blood flows out of an open wound.

Nothing, You always say I'm nothing Those words fucking haunt me, they do

Cast out, Make me feel like I'm a cast out Always say that I am too loud, I am

The things you say always leave me Drowning in tears They're pulling me under I'm a waterfall, a waterfall

Richie’s eyelids fluttered open while he sang. His blood was boiling with adrenaline and nameless emotions. Mike’s arms were moving just as harshly, his whole body threatening to jump out of the small stool and jab both drumsticks through the material of the bass drum. Bev’s part in this particular song was crucial, the main reason the instrumental reached deep into people’s bones and made shivers and goose bumps break their skin was due to her pre-recorded sound mixes. They were fucking messed up in just the right way. The three of them put their whole hearts into this. And maybe they were biased, but if you asked Richie, the hard work showed off perfectly.

Crazy Feel like I'm going crazy Your games are quite amazing, they are

Toxic Like chemicals you’re toxic Your poison makes my head sick, it does

It was only inevitable to let the swirling memories of a childhood inside his head, but it was another thing to let them drown you. Richie had enough of the sorrow, he now wanted to move forward and grow up to be better than his parents. He tried, for a really long time, to find the turning point. Was it a day that went wrong? Was it something he did? Could it be another random thing that he had no control over? No matter how hard he searched through his memory, he couldn’t seem to find the reason his family broke apart like this.

Drowning in fear It's pulling me under I'm a waterfall, a waterfall Drowning in tears

He could almost guess that… maybe it was always that way.

Maybe it was his child mind that didn’t see it at the moment, worried about more important matters, like crayons and Star Wars’ toys. Maybe his friends liked his parents better because they weren’t all that worried about their messes or curfew. Maybe, if he asked Bill, Richie would be sure that he saw more liquor bottles than milk cartons on his kitchen counter before he turned 10. But they were way too young to notice, they were way too young to care.

Maybe, this was all a string of failures.

Richie would never get those answers.

 -

 He jumped out of the stage after setting his guitar on its stand, Bev and Mike had already made their way to their other friends. Richie was expecting a group hug as he made his way over. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was that the six of them were waiting for him with smiles on their faces and… tears. Richie let his mouth hung open as he came to a stop. The two that performed with him wore proud smiles, but there were actual tears streaming down Bill’s face, and Eddie’s… The smaller boy was standing in the middle, looking up at him with crossed arms and big, wet eyes that made Richie’s heart tear down the middle. Richie kept staring at him. He wanted more than anything to jump in on the hug that Eddie clearly wanted to give. But he had space to keep until Eddie decided to close it.

Eventually, Ben (that fucking angel) pushed Eddie onto Richie’s direction, which proved to be enough to break Eddie’s hesitation. The boy practically threw himself onto Richie’s arms, squeezing his mid-section so hard that Richie worried for his ribs’ well-being. No one needed to know that he squeezed back just as hard. A second later, five other pairs of arms were joining the big bundle of bodies, which gave him such an overwhelming amount of affection that Richie felt tears pooling up in his waterline as well.

“Hey Eds, I hope you don’t mind getting snot all over your hair.” Great, his big mouth was working again, and his throat was extremely dry, which turned his words raspy. Richie was caught by surprise when Eddie only squeezed him harder, completely ignoring the implications of what he had said. That gave him the strike of energy necessary to lift Eddie up for a total of two seconds, which was all he could handle. He swore he heard muffled giggles.

“We’re so ss-sappy.” Bill was the first to break the hug in order to wipe his face. This was such good blackmail material for when he sobered up. Bill was a rollercoaster of funny sights when he drank. The hug dispersed, and Richie felt the hesitation behind Eddie’s movements as he recoiled both arms into his own chest again.

Richie copied Bill’s previous actions and tried to wipe away his unshed tears as subtly as possible, he still noticed Eddie looking up at him from his side without a word.

To bring everyone back from the emotional turmoil to a closer sense of normality, Richie gave away one exaggerated sigh before speaking. “I’m so thirsty right now I could drink all of your moms’ breastmilk in one go.” To which he gladly took all of the complaints, groans and things like: ‘That’s so not funny.’ Or ‘You had to ruin it.’ And even ‘That’s fucking disgusting.’ That could have only come from one specific firecracker boy. But he still heard the faint ‘Love you Rich.’s that were kindly thrown at him as they made their way over to one of the tables that served as a drink station.

No one saw him stay behind, but Eddie didn’t mind. He wasn’t particularly ready to act normal just yet, but he also didn’t want to ruin anyone’s mood. So he needed a moment to ground himself, and he watched his friends’ backs for a moment. There were many people in the way, but Eddie settled himself against the backrest of the couch and waited a total of 30 seconds, the time it took for Richie to down 2 cups of mango juice. Then, lacking self-control, his body jumped away from the couch and he marched his confident way to Richie’s side. He even got as close as to tap Richie’s shoulder blade. All it took was Richie turning around with the corners of his eyes scrunched up due to a genuine smile, and Eddie melted away onto the wooden floor without another word. Or at least that’s what it felt like. In reality, he stood there, speechless, with his mouth hung open long enough for Richie’s smile to twist into a worried frown.

Eddie’s heart was probably testing out some acrobatic moves, if the way it was jamming against his ribcage had anything to do with that. Little did he know Richie’s was in a similar state, and that he had a hard time swallowing down his last gulp of juice once he turned around to find Eddie standing there, looking up at him with big, doe eyes.

Then, Eddie’s fingers wrapped around Richie’s wrist. The movement was soft and strong at the same time, Richie thought that was one of millionth perfect ways he had to describe Eddie as a whole.

He wished he had more time to process the look in Eddie’s eyes in the moment he ordered him to

“Come with me, Rich.”

It didn’t sound like a question at all.

“Please.”

Fuck.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

[hoesheez]

Apologize to this...

Jaehyun/Reader - Boyfriend!Jaehyun

Fluff, and a whole lotta smut!

Warnings- Unprotected sex, gagging and crude language

A/N- This started out as a joke, turned into a tease, and now it’s a fanfic. Please forgive me, for I know not what I do. I only aim to please @chittaporno. Have fun, ya lil’ nasty! >=]

Your boyfriend held your hand tightly as the two of you walked back to your apartment. The summer air was thick with the familiar scents of smoke and fried food. You were on your way back home from a night spent with his closest friends. It had been a couple of years since Jaehyun had seen his former band mates and you were happy that you could finally put faces to the names you had heard countless times. You recalled all the boys in your mind, one standing out among the rest.

His smile was dazzling, his laugh still echoing in your ears. His name was Ten, a beautiful man who took your breath away from the moment you saw him. A loud laugh escaped your lips as you remembered his corny jokes. Jaehyun turned to you, keys in hand, “What?” he asked, smiling wide as he saw the look on your cute face. “It’s just, your friend Ten, he’s hilarious.” He pushed the front door open, gesturing for you to enter ahead of him. “He sure is, if only you had known him during our trainee days, you would have never stopped laughing.” 

Taking you by the waist, the two of you walked to the elevator. He pressed the button to call for the carriage, “I’m glad that he’s still as happy as ever.” Jaehyun continued to talk about his days as an idol trainee, all the way up to your destination.The inviting aroma of your shared home enveloped you in comfort as soon as the two of you entered. You immediately removed your shoes and threw your purse on the couch while Jaehyun secured the front door. “I’m happy that you enjoyed yourself babe, I was actually a little nervous” He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body to his. You looked into his eyes, “Aw Jae, you didn’t have to be nervous. I knew I’d love them as soon as I met them.” Reassuring him with a kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. He pressed up against you, his crotch brushing your thigh as he pinned you to the wall.

With his hot mouth, he began assaulting your neck, nibbling at the supple skin. His hands made a path from your back to your rear and he peeled off your shorts, quickly cupping your ass as the garment fell around your ankles. He gave it a generous squeeze, making you moan at the contact. He chuckled under his breath as he pulled away from your neck, “You like that, baby?” You nodded, your eyes never leaving his mouth as he bit down on his bottom lip. His hands traced small circles as they made a path from your soft cheeks to the waistband of your panties. Your body reacted, and you bucked your hips against him, moaning as his hand ghosted over your heat, “Mmm, Ten.” Jaehyun stopped dead in his tracks, his warmth leaving you as he stood back. Your hands flew to your mouth as your face flushed with embarrassment. He stared at you, utterly confused, and very much offended.“What did you just say?“  

You started spouting out gibberish, suddenly unable to form coherent sentences. He turned from you, trying his best to process what had just transpired. What was wrong with you? You had only just met Ten a few hours ago. Did you really just moan his name while your boyfriend was touching you? He walked down the hallway towards the living room, grabbed the back of his shirt by the collar, and pulled it over his head swiftly. The dim light cascaded over his taught muscles as he turned back to you and sighed, "You’re something else, you know that?” He ran one hand through his luscious blonde hair as the other tossed the shirt across the room. You wondered what was going through his mind. His body language gave off a completely different vibe than his words did, and all you could think about was how you were going to console him. You watched his every move, waiting for what he would say, or do, next. His brow furrowed in thought, “Come over here and apologize.” You eagerly strode over to him, ready to embrace him, ready to spew out some half-assed apology, but he held out his hand to you abruptly. “Stop, don’t apologize to me,” he said, his long finger pointing down towards his crotch, “Apologize to this dick.”

Your eyes went wide at his vulgarity, “What?”  He just smiled at you, taking his right hand and tracing an invisible line down his toned chest and abs, stopping at the hem of his tight jeans. His fingers went to his belt buckle and the metal clicked against itself as he undid it. “You heard me, get over here and,” his voice went an octave lower, “suck my cock.” He emphasized the last syllable, pulling the belt from its restraints so fast, it cracked through the air like a whip. You felt your wetness begin to pool between your legs as you slowly made your way over to him. Falling to your knees, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers, and his semi- hard cock sprang out before you. He hissed in delight as you took him in your hands, “That’s it Y/N, show me just how sorry you are.” 

You began by kissing the tip, lapping up the oozing pre-cum with your tongue. You squeezed your legs together, seeking some kind of relief as your core throbbed with need. Your mouth wrapped around his thickness and you took him in completely.  A deep growl came from his throat, “Fuck, just like that.” He grabbed the back of your head and tangled his hand through your hair to push himself further into your warm mouth. You gagged on him and tried to pull back, but he held your hair tightly, stilling your movements. He fucked your mouth relentlessly, pulling you impossibly further down his shaft until you deep-throated him. He pulled out when he saw how much you were struggling, using your cheek to wipe off the string of saliva that connected you to his dick You looked up at him as your chest heaved, “Jae, fuck me, please.” He ignored your plea and took you by the wrist, bringing you to sit on the couch. You bounced on it lightly and looked up at him with hungry eyes. ” You think I’m gonna give you what you want after what you just said?”  He knelt down before you, his hands going to the backs of your knees, gripping them and pulling your legs apart slowly, watching you as your breathing quickened. He brought his mouth towards your underwear, grazing his nose against the lacy fabric. “I’ll fuck you, after you’ve been properly punished.”  He bit the hem of your underwear and dragged them down your legs with ease. 

He tossed them aside and re-positioned himself between your thighs. His tongue traced circles against your outer folds, nibbling lightly on them before sliding his tongue against your clit. You yelped at the contact, practically shaking as he started blowing his hot breath against it. His teasing was agonizing. You parted your lips, ready to cry out in protest, but his skilled muscle immediately silenced you. You arched your back and he wrapped his arms around your thighs, pinning you to him as his tongue drew all kinds of patterns over your slick heat. He sucked hard on your clit for a while before licking a path towards your entrance, his velvety tongue sliding in briefly. His nails dug into your thighs and he pushed them further apart, your muscles stretching to the brink.  “Fuck!” you cried out as Jaehyun continued to relentlessly slide his tongue over your swollen clit. He grunted, his vocal chords vibrating, sending a surge of electricity through your body. You wriggled under him as you gasped for air. “Jae.” you breathed heavily as he continued to bring you over the edge, building you up to the point of euphoria. 

Jaehyun pulled away from your center, deciding that he would deny you of your release one last time. You were a whimpering mess before him as he smiled, darting his tongue out to lick you from the corners of his mouth, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.” He picked you up bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. You kissed him repeatedly all over his soft neck, cheek, and ear, showering him with your love. He placed you down onto the bed gently, almost as if he was scared that you would break, “I’m sorry” You huffed as his weight fell on top of you. He shook his head, “No more apologizing, Y/N,” his hardness finally entering you, “I love you, okay?” Your walls clenched around him as he rolled his hips, penetrating you deep. “Ah, I love you too, Jaehyun.” Your nails scratched against his back and he began to thrust into you with reckless abandon. 

The two of you found your release together, your breath hitching in your chest as he silenced your scream with his mouth. He filled you with his seed, his hips stuttering against you. Your bodies were slick with a thin layer of sweat as you kissed each other passionately. As he pulled out of you, a wide grin spread across his face, a look of pride on his beautiful features. You decided to appease his ego even further, “Ten who?”  You buried your face in his chest and inhaled his heavenly scent. Jaehyun chuckled, pulling you closer to him before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

A/N- Well damn, I had a hard time writing this, please blame Jung Jaehyun, the world’s greatest bias wrecker. Also, I know I’m not the best writer, this is purely for entertainment and as a little gift to my resident nasties. Excuse me while I go bathe in holy water. Bye!

[elfnerdherder]

Dread and Hunger: Ch. 11

You can read Chapter 11 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 11: Cortese

           He was able to find a tux with the fastidious aid of Beverly armed with coupons and Alana’s unredeemed gift cards, and he didn’t have to break the bank to do it. Alana relinquished her hold on them with enough ease that he wondered if she’d even bothered to look at how much was on each. There was a Visa one with twenty-five, an Amazon one with one-hundred, and they used a Jamm’s Frozen Yogurt one to grab food between stores.

           Beverly had far more fun picking out the outfits than Will did trying them on.

           “No offense, but I’m pretty sure this is Sugar Daddy territory. A ballet? You’re going to bang him tonight, right?” Beverly eyed one critically and gave a solemn shake of her head. Will uttered a short curse and walked back into the dressing room irritably.

           “No labels,” he reminded her through the door.

           “No labels is a lot like saying Sugar Daddy without having to be judged for it,” she tossed back.

           “It’s not like that. If he was our age and doing this, you wouldn’t think that.”

           “If he was our age, he wouldn’t be buying tickets that cost a couple hundred a piece just to take you out in hopes that he gets laid tonight.”

           Will gave her a particularly dark look when he walked out of the fitting room, and she smiled sweetly.

           “This is the one. Perfect.”

           He managed to shave, and he combed his hair back with a pomade that Beverly assured him wasn’t too greasy. When Hannibal pulled into the parking lot, he was sure he looked utterly stupid, over-dressed and ridiculously corny with his dress shoes and his Ross tie. He stuffed his hands into his pockets so that he didn’t tap them about, and he tried to appear normal, nonchalant. Hannibal stepped out of the car, and the look he gave him made every single self-conscious thought flee his body. He felt decidedly hungry, seeing the way Hannibal looked at him.

           “You look sharp,” Hannibal said. His eyes drank Will in.

           “Beverly picked it out,” Will admitted. Hannibal circled the car and opened the door for him, and his gaze, burgundy in the sunlight, trailed from his shoes all the way to the top of his head, much as it had in the bar of Belle Bleu when Will first told him he’d been let go. It made his hands tingle. It made him want to forget the ballet entirely.

           “She has excellent taste.”

           Once Will was securely tucked into the car, Hannibal drove out of town, to Baltimore. While his normal, everyday attire was never complete without a tie, a pocket square and supple leather dress shoes, Will had to admit that he somehow managed to take that to another level entirely. His black silk tie was sharp against a white so bright it almost hurt, and the satin lapels of his jacket shined. Just underneath, he saw the hints of a three-button vest, and a small chain for what had to be a pocketwatch.

           The line getting in moved quickly, and Will was buffeted gently about by a crowd of chiffon dresses, coiffed hair and hushed murmurings of excitement. No one stared at him, no one pointed and whispered. In a crowd like this, no one knew to look for the oddities among the many faces. When they were led away from the main floor and taken to a private balcony, he cast Hannibal a curious glance, but Hannibal gave nothing away. It wasn’t until they were seated at the very front that he removed his jacket, laid it across the seat beside him, and gave Will a conspiratorial look.

           “Seeing a ballet is an intimate affair. I bought the balcony so that you could enjoy it without the discomfort of having so many bodies pressed too close.”

           “You bought out the balcony,” Will repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing.

           “I wanted you to enjoy this as much as I knew I would,” he said, as though it were an obvious thing to do.

           Will wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. In the back of his head, Beverly gloated.

           When the lights dimmed though, and Hannibal’s fingers drew lazy designs on the back of Will’s tux jacket, all thoughts of sugar daddies and age gaps vanished. The stage lights brightened, the music notes began to hum, and everything else ceased to exist. A coil in his chest tightened, tightened, and with each note struck, with each arched, graceful turn of a dancer, it twisted until he was sure it’d snap. Hannibal continued to drag his fingertips over his back, electric tingles gliding across the fabric to dive beneath his skin.

           Afterwards, they were stopped by a woman in a red sheath dress with a bob whose lines were just severe enough to cut skin. She appraised Will from head to toe, then shifted and jutted a hip out, arms crossed elegantly.

           “You didn’t tell me you were coming, Hannibal, darling,” she said, eyebrow arched.

           “It was a spur of the moment decision, Octavia, my apologies,” he said lightly, a flicker of remorse on his face. His hand that’d ghosted along the small of Will’s back dropped so that he could clasp it behind his back.

           “You didn’t tell me that you had a date, either,” she added, petulantly glancing to Will.

           He tried to make his grimace look like more of a smile, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. He looked away from them, drawn towards the feel of a pair of eyes fastened anxiously in their direction. A short, portly man in a tux much like Will’s rocked onto the balls of his feet, then back, gripping a program tightly in one hand. Beside him, a much taller, lither man stood, dark eyes mildly curious as he looked from his friend to Will.

           “Allow me to introduce Will Graham, a good friend of mine,” Hannibal said. “Will, this is Mrs. Octavia Wilson, a woman of great taste and refinement.”

           “A pleasure,” Will said, looking away from the man eagerly turned in their direction.

           “Indeed. Has he cooked for you, yet? Hannibal, tell me you’ve cooked for him.”

           “I’ve had the pleasure once or twice,” Hannibal said with a laugh.

           “You know, he used to do these wonderful, lavish dinners where he’d cook almost everything himself –hasn’t done one in months, I’d say.” She sniffed, personally affronted. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the short man make his way over, program clenched tightly.

           “You can’t force inspiration, Octavia. It is either there, or it’s not,” Hannibal protested. Will turned away from the people walking over, hoping a silent dismissal would keep them away, but still they moved, just behind him and brimming with an emotion that made desperation crawl onto the tip of his tongue to lurk.

           Don’t mention the Chesapeake Ripper; for the love of god, don’t mention him or the newspaper…let people think I'm normal here...

           “Hannibal, I think that man is attempting to get your attention,” Octavia said, and Hannibal looked over Will’s shoulder to see the person in question, eyebrow quirked. Will glanced over his face, surprised to see a flicker of annoyance.

           “Hello, Franklyn,” he said politely. Will turned and moved out of the way somewhat so that the man could enter into their circle. He rocked from his heels to his toes, prepared to launch himself into it if Will hadn’t given him room.

           “I saw you,” Franklyn said excitedly. “Up in the balcony.”

           “Yes,” Hannibal agreed, and it was the first time Will saw utter distaste flicker across Hannibal’s face before it was gone, snuffed out as though it never were. There was mild relief, though, to know that Franklyn had been staring at Hannibal, not Will.

           “I think he was more interested in you than in watching the performance,” the man behind him said with a short laugh.

           “Oh, Dr. Lecter, where are my manners; this is my friend Tobias. Tobias, this is Dr. Lecter.”

           “A pleasure, doctor,” Tobias said, shaking his hand. His eyes were dark, the chandelier lights above reflecting odd designs in them. Despite his smile, he didn’t sound pleased at all.

           “This is my good friend Will Graham and Mrs. Wilson. Franklyn is…” Hannibal floundered, his hand falling to his side limply. The flicker of distaste lurked in the curve of his jaw. Will had never seen him at a loss for words before, and his gaze locked onto Hannibal's face, equal parts amused and surprised.

           “I’m his patient,” Franklyn said, and Hannibal’s polite smile tensed, frozen.

           “Yes. My patient.” The words were clipped, pronounced with care. Will drummed his fingers on the side of his thigh.

           “I knew you liked the arts like this, Dr. Lecter. I knew it,” Franklyn said.

           “Yes.” Hannibal nodded, and Will looked away from the two of them, wanting to help ease the tension that stifled his breath but not entirely sure how.

           Just behind Franklyn’s embarrassing display, his friend Tobias stood, and Will was surprised to see him not looking to Hannibal, but to Will instead. His brows furrowed, trying to place Will somewhere, and Will broke eye contact, swallowing with difficulty.

           “Well, when you do another dinner party, please let me know, Hannibal.” Octavia seemed to sense the same whisper of tension and discomfort that everyone else did. It was palpable, and Will wanted to wipe it from his skin. “Bring your friend Will along, too. I’d love to pick his brain about the rendition done here tonight.”

           Will noted the distinct lack of invitation for Hannibal’s patient.

           “Of course, Octavia. When inspiration strikes, you’ll be the first to know,” Hannibal promised, and Octavia made her getaway with poise. Will caught Hannibal’s eyes, and he consciously pressed his palm flat to his leg to stop the infernal tapping.

           “You have dinner parties?” Franklyn seemed positively delighted.

           “When the mood strikes. If you’ll excuse us, though, Franklyn, we have a previous engagement. Tobias, a pleasure to meet you.”

           “A pleasure indeed,” Tobias said, watching Will.

           Hannibal’s hand brushed against Will’s when they reached the outside, and he clasped it once they were in the car. The coil inside of Will’s chest tightened.

           “I’ve never seen you run from a conversation,” Will said once they were on the interstate.

           “I did no such thing,” Hannibal objected.

           “The inanities of small talk brought you to one word answers,” Will retorted with a snort. His fingers twitched in Hannibal’s grip, and he squeezed tightly in response. “You did mention once that small talk bored you.”

           “I find speaking with patients outside of a professional environment disquieting. Franklyn is…exuberant.”

           “That’s a good way of saying he has a crush on you,” Will snickered.

           “Was it so obvious?” Hannibal sounded almost pained. Personally affronted, more like. Will was enraptured by the way he seemed near-disgusted.

           “I mean, I saw it,” Will said. “Same way I saw you look like you were trying to…to remove your teeth with your bare hands.”

           “Colorful,” Hannibal quipped. “My mind was, actually, in far more pleasant places than that.”

           “Where was it?”

           “I was thinking of how delightful it’d be to remove your clothes.” The coil tightened. The pressure was harsh on his ribs, and Will worried that it’d explode from him.

           They made it all the way to the apartment before it snapped.

           It was the darkness, Will supposed, and the way the small light from the kitchenette accented the planes of Hannibal’s cheeks, jaw and neck. The light reflected in his eyes of jet, and lurking in the depths of them, hunger of an instinctual kind made his heart begin to pound.

           “What is that look you’re giving me, Will?” Hannibal asked quietly. He removed his outer jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door.

           “I guess I was just thinking about how nice it’d be to remove your clothes, too,” Will said, and the spring snapped. Hannibal turned to him, and it couldn’t be said who moved first –Will or Hannibal. Either way, eager hands fumbled, fingers stuttering over vest buttons and shirt buttons and coat buttons, and why were there so many buttons.

           Hannibal pressed him to the door of the apartment, his kisses fervent and dominant. His touch was scalding, and Will couldn’t help the groan of pleasure as Hannibal’s tongue slid along his bottom lip and pushed its way in, hands finally managing to tear the shirt from his shoulders and exposing his skin to the cool air. Hannibal’s shirt didn’t fare so well; there was a small sound of something ripping, and a few buttons scattered to the floor, the noise distant as he let out a breath of laughter and tossed the shirt to the side.

           “That was my favorite shirt,” Hannibal murmured against his lips, hands gliding down to explore his chest. Will nipped at his bottom lip, tugging it.

           “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, arching against him.

           Amid the scuffling of shoes, and socks, tripping over the dress slacks abandoned on the floor and falling into one another in the hall, Will found himself poised over Hannibal on the bed, dizzy off of the feel of their skin pressed tight together. He ground his hips down, and the hiss of pleasure was heady, a sense of power and control as he dipped his face low to bite along his chest and stomach.

           “Are you just going to tease me?” Hannibal asked, his shortness of breath belying the sense of impatience. Will grinned against his stomach, pressing a light, barely-there kiss to it.

           “What’s wrong with an appetizer?” he murmured, fingertips gripping Hannibal’s hips to keep them in place. “Don’t you like to tell me that we work up to the main course?”

           “Sometimes even I like to skip to the main course.” His hands slid into Will’s hair, tangling within the curls.

           “Naughty,” he whispered, nipping at the hip bone. “What are we going to do about that?”

           When he reached where he intended to go, Hannibal’s eloquence dropped decidedly as he informed Will just what they should do about that.

-

           Hannibal slept possessively, one hand wrapped around Will’s torso to keep him close. Whenever Will woke, there was always a hazy panic that it was the Ripper, but with each steady, deep inhale and exhale, he’d smell his cologne and his heart would stop slamming into his ribs so angrily. It was Hannibal. Hannibal was safe.

           He liked to lay like that, no matter whose house they ended up at, Hannibal’s arm tossed across his stomach, his eyes glued to the ceiling. He liked to sync his breathing with the man beside him, deep, full inhales with slow, lazy exhales, a pause between like he had all of the time in the world. It made the mirrors in his mind stop reflecting the world around him, as Hannibal had put it. It made things turn into a lax, peaceful entropy.

           He always knew when Hannibal woke because his grip would tighten reflexively, pulling him an inch or so closer until the strength of the half-asleep ultimately failed and Hannibal had to resort to moving himself over so that he could nuzzle his neck with lazy, half-hearted kisses. His five o’clock shadow always itched across his skin, tickling.

           This time though, his mouth paused at the two cuts at his neck, and he seemed to not know what to do about them. His mouth frowned around them, puzzled.

           “I saw these before,” he murmured, rocks in his throat. “They aren’t shaving cuts.”

           “Good morning,” Will said evasively.

           “I thought to ask yesterday, but you looked so sharp and pleased in your tux that I didn’t want to spoil it.”

           “Don’t spoil it now; I’m having a good morning.”

           “Are you? I’m glad.” He pressed another kiss to the marred skin, this one pointed.

           “I had a dream we made omelets. I think I even have eggs in the fridge.”

           “What put those cuts to your skin so close to your jugular?” Hannibal propped himself up with his elbow, sliding his hand from Will’s side to his heartbeat. It jerked irregularly against his palm, another palpitation. He’d never gone to the doctor for it.

           “A knife.”

           “Who held the knife?”

           “Is that even a question?” Will snapped. He sat up and turned, letting his bare feet press to the shabby carpet. The silence of the steady morning was ruined. Hannibal slid the pads of his fingers along his back, creating goosebumps along his bare skin.

           “Your admirer.”

           “My admirer,” Will agreed miserably. Quietly.

           “He was close enough to kiss,” Hannibal commented, and Will balked at the statement.

           “It doesn’t matter.”

           “Did you intend to tell someone the Chesapeake Ripper found his way to you again?” A pause. “Does Jack Crawford know?”

           “No. It’s fine.”

           “Will, there are many things I’m more than content to let slide between us because we are adults and have our own, separate and distinct lives, but if you’re going to tell me a lie, make it a better one.”

           He kissed Will’s back to soften the sting of his words. Will nodded, accepting the rebuke, refusing to apologize for it. Hannibal slid out of bed, found his underwear on the floor, then made his way to the door, either to shower or cook breakfast, Will wasn’t sure. It didn’t open, though, and he looked over when he didn’t leave, confused.

           He’d forgotten about the note.

           Hannibal plucked it from the door, and the tack fell to the carpet soundlessly. Will couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine the expression –anger? Confusion? Distrust? He’d thought about taking it from the door many, many times, but each time he’d stopped, fingers pausing at the line that’d been dragged under the looping cursive of ache. It’d dug in so hard it’d ripped the fibers of the paper, and Will wondered at it. His pinky would dip into the torn part of the paper, and he’d leave it for another day, the stain of the ink deep beneath the layers of his skin like a bad tattoo.

           “Interesting,” Hannibal said, and his tone gave nothing away. Will stared at his back, bare and taut with muscle, a sliver of unease uncurling inside of him.

           “It’s escalating,” he said, like that could somehow explain everything that was happening to him.

           “These things do,” Hannibal agreed. He glanced back to Will, note held out like a sordid offering.

           “I don’t want it,” he said.

           Hannibal was out of the door before he said, “Of course you do.”