#the rain ripper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellfirenacht · 8 months ago

Text

Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

5.7k Words

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers.

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus.

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you.

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question.

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway.

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly.

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you.

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.”

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate.

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?”

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with.

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid-

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before.

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up.

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared.

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something.

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.”

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness.

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.”

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen?

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different.

He really needed a cigarette right about now.

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him.

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched.

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing.

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat.

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen.

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay.

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town.

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag.

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy.

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much.

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right?

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in.

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.”

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked.

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed.

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!”

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room.

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.”

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm.

“And what plans would that be?” he asked.

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet.

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.”

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food.

“Friend’s house.”

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin.

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before.

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.”

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character.

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do.

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out.

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response.

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star.

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him.

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you.

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled.

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?”

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.”

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally.

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked.

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before.

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher.

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige.

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape.

Then you started laughing. A lot.

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question.

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down.

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table.

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting?

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked.

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.”

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!”

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!”

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now.

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot.

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway.

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?”

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered.

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern.

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.”

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?”

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected.

“And green.”

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months.

“What’s real to you?”

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that.

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it.

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.”

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?”

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.”

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again.

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded.

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?”

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Extremely.”

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we��re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent.

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.”

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this.

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.”

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day.

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first.

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back.

Next Chapter

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

#nacht post #nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

236 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 7 months ago

Note

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/749847926364307456/confession-time-i-shipped-reylo-when-the-force#notes

Maybe it's bc I never got into Star Wars bc I'm not a big fan of sci-fi, but I'm fairly certain that Reylo was the cishettiest cis het ship to ever set sail in the cis sea, riding the het waves of the cishetero straights.

Like, that ship seems to be a staple with cishet hetero-cis young adult YA authors. I've probably seen more rewritten cishet Reylo fanfics with the serial number filled off to become #original works than any other fanfic cishet ship in a long time. Last one was Twilight Edward Bella I think.

Like that ship seems to be the staple of the cishetero foundation of todays cishetero YA market for better or for much worse. It's like the bodice ripper Fabio trashy romance, but for women under 35-50 year old. That ship was probably the most cishet coded ship I've seen in some time with any notoriety, with how it basically falls into every classic and rigid cishet romance trope, and seems to blossom in that garden of straightness. I mean, I don't think all the writers are cishet, but with that ship you you can try to take it out of its cishet story and try and make it queer, but you can't take the actual cishetness out of the it. The rainbow don't shine on them, to say it nicely, no matter how much it rains.

Yeah, it's a quintessential Wattpad ship of a certain type.

A lot of the pull-to-publish ventures I've seen in recent years are run by Reylos girlbossing their way to a writing career. (Like, not just individuals pulling to publish but people trying to start their own presses or apps or whatever.)

I saw TFA in the theater because friends wanted to go. I like fake death and Finn and Poe were hella hot, so I was marginally interested, but I really don't care that much about Star Wars. I only ended up in the fandom because 1. Finn and Poe are hot, as I said and 2. I got pissed about some bullying.

Anyway, we got to the scene where Kylo is leaning over Rey in all his uninspiring... uh... glory. And my friend hears this tween girl in the row ahead of us let out an "Ohhhh."

In the words of my friend: "Someone just became a woman today!"

That little girl and her audible italics are what I associate with Reylo to this day.

108 notes · View notes

mustainegf · 6 months ago

Text

☆ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑰𝑪𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 ★ 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝒀 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑭𝑨𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺

Cinema (NSFW) ★

Dirty Diana (NSFW) ★

Natural Talent (NSFW)

stargazing (NSFW)

My Bestfriend (NSFW) ★

Jealous (NSFW)

Piercings (NSFW)

Tour bus (NSFW)

Breeding kink (NSFW)

Distracted (NSFW)

Hallway (NSFW)

Teeth ★

good boy (NSFW) ★

Unexpected pregnancy

Take me Slow (NSFW) ★

Do Not Touch (NSFW) ★

I’m with the band (NSFW) ★

Valentine’s Day

Kirk the ripper Hammett (NSFW) ★

Begging (NSFW)

Snow monster ★

Candid shots

Happy Hour ★

Kink headcannons (NSFW)

Competition (NSFW)

Trust me (NSFW) ★

Don’t blame me

Love language

Dirty thief (NSFW) ★

Till death do us part

Mine all mine (NSFW)

All for you (NSFW)

Mac n cheese

Soapy (NSFW)

Silver (NSFW)

A day at the beach

Broken hearted

Lesson (NSFW)

Seoul (NSFW) ★

Pretty boy (NSFW)

dearest dad

home video (NSFW)

soloist (NSFW)

wind & rain ★

#mustainegf #reqs open #fanfic #metallica #request #fanfiction #smut #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #metallica smut #metallica imagines #kirk hammett x you #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader smut #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett imagines #kirk hammett smut #oneshot

131 notes · View notes

eroticomens · 2 months ago

Text

this is chapter one of my fic You Could Be Empty :) link to the full fic is included, but this can also stand alone, as it was intended to be a one-shot but i...uh. have *feelings* about these two so that wasn't gonna happen. full fic is mostly SFW, aside from the violence...however, the last chapter will be 100% fan service wink wink

~~~

Surprise surprise, Wade’s having trouble sleeping.

He tosses and turns as the rain patters against the windows. The sound usually lulls him to sleep, but tonight it doesn’t do anything.

He sits up with a grumble. Maybe a late night smoke or doing something productive will reset his brain. Maybe a smoke, then a good zone-out while he does dishes. Hit ‘em with the one-two punch and get two birds stoned at once.

Wolvie’s out on the couch as usual, but he sleeps like a fucking log. Plus, he was at least half a bottle of whiskey in when Wade left him for bed a couple hours ago, so the dishes clattering shouldn’t be an issue. Al also somehow sleeps like the dead. Why does everyone in this fucking household get a good night’s rest but him? What cosmic entity’s balls does he have to fondle to join them? Cause he’ll do it.

Wade slips his feet into his fuzzy unicorn slippers, pulls on an equally fuzzy red and black bathrobe, (custom made thank you very much) and shuffles out of his room.

In the darkness, he can just make out Logan’s form; passed out on his back, one arm dangling off the couch.

Wade very quietly collects the necessary equipment for rolling a joint from the coffee table. He notices, unsurprisingly, that Logan made it to the bottom of his now discarded whiskey bottle. Good for him. Eye roll emoji.

A soft murmur startles the merc. He drops his lighter and it clatters to the floor. For a moment, he thinks he’s in for a stern and shitfaced talking to, but Logan doesn’t stir from the couch.

The drunk old coot mutters something else indiscernible in his sleep. Wade hovers silently, just watching and listening for a moment. Another sound, almost like a whimper, intrigues Wade.

Wolverines don’t whimper. But then again… this Wolverine is special.

The older man’s eyebrows are furrowed, as they often are. He looks concerned or pained. He’s drenched in sweat, too; while the glisten on his collarbones and furry forearms is appealing, it’s more concerning than sexy in this circumstance. Wade contemplates waking him, but Logan would most likely not be receptive to talking about it… he hasn’t been very easy to pry into as a person. Getting him to talk about anything is a struggle, let alone opening with ‘hey buddy, why are you whimpering in your sleep?’

He should just mind his own business and go about it like he didn’t notice. That’s what he’s resigned himself to doing when another soft, sad noise grabs his attention.

Funnily, it sounded almost like–

“Wade…” Logan repeats.

The sound wounds him, wrenches his guts like no adamantium claws ever could. It makes him feel protective, confused, but most of all guilty. What could dream-Wade be doing for him to make such a terrible sound?

Wade’s brow ridges furrow and he sucks his teeth with his tongue.

Fuck standing by. He’s never been the type. He settles on his knees next to the couch. Logan’s heavy, boozy breath makes his nose wrinkle, but it’s a smell he’s getting used to, for better or worse.

“I’m here,” He says, taking Logan’s limp hand in his. Snikt!Logan’s claws shoot out, piercing Wade’s hand and he bites back a startled yelp, biting into his tongue so hard it’s lucky it’s still attached to choke back the sound.

Wolverine mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like ‘open the fucking door.’

Oh. Wade’s guilt doubles, but it’s accompanied by a sick little pang of pride. Logan’s having a nightmare about the time ripper…but more importantly, about him. About losing him.

“Shhh, hey, hey... Logan.” Wade soothes, flexing his fingers to test their operability– looks like all his tendons and ligaments are intact. He threads his fingers through Logan’s to the best of his ability from the angle he’s been skewered at.

“Wade.” Logan says softly again, but much less pained. “I’m here, Peanut. Don’t you worry.” The merc assures. He runs the fingers of his free hand through Logan’s hair gently, playing with his ‘ears’ while he’s got the chance.

The sleeping man’s expression softens.

Wade’s heart flutters and he feels the familiar sting of tears and a lump in his throat. He sits down a bit awkwardly and rests his head against the couch, stroking Logan’s bloody knuckles softly. He’d rather acknowledge the warm wetness of his own blood than the tears that follow the ripples of his scarred cheeks.

“I’m here.” Wade sniffles quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

After a moment, the claws slowly retract with a little stutter.

“That’s it. There’s a good kitty.” Wade sighs.

He wipes his face with the sleeve of his robe. Good thing it’s red, or it’d be ruined. Logan was so damn desperate to hold his hand, he had to do it in the most violent way possible. Typical male behavior.

The merc doesn’t remember falling asleep. He does remember Logan’s inebriated snores turning into a lawnmower-like assault on his ears, and the slow, irritating itch of blood drying between their entwined fingers.

~~~

When he wakes up, he’s on the floor with a kink in his back the size of Texas. Yee-fucking-haw. There’s a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. That’s weird, he definitely didn’t grab those. He sort of just fell asleep slumped against the couch.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Al says smugly from the couch. Mary is sleeping peacefully in her lap. Funny how the dog seems to like her more than anyone else. Maybe it’s just their little old lady energy fusing together.

“And a lovely go fuck yourself to you too.” Wade mumbles.

“Don’t be sleepin’ on the floor anymore, sugar. Makes you real bitchy.” “Meh-meh-mee-mee-blah-blah-blah.” Wade mocks. It takes him a few seconds to fully wake up, but in no time he’s ready to get up and kick the day in the balls. “Where’s LoLo Siwa?”

“Your boyfriend’s making breakfast, like a gentleman.” Althea replies. “I make breakfast.” Wade interjects. He pretends Al’s choice of words doesn’t make his heart pit-a-pat like a lovesick fool. The woman shakes her head and points…vaguely in his direction. “There is a limit to how much lava I am willing to shit in a single day, Wade Wilson, and your abuse of hot sauce exceeds that limit.”

“Hmph.” Wade disagrees whole heartedly. Without hot sauce, sometimes he can barely taste anything. Thank you, El Cancer.

The kitchen smells like ham. He can hear it sizzling away, and his stomach rumbles loudly.

He scrambles to get up– Okay, so maybe his back isn’t ready to kick any balls. Damn, that smarts. He does manage to get to his feet, then stretch for a full minute before he shuffles toward the kitchen. On his way out, he notices that most of the blood has been cleaned from the floor except for the area he’d been covering.

Logan’s cooking away. There are eggs and waffles already prepared, and Logan’s frying up bacon– the good shit. Canadian, of course.

It’s nice to see grumpy cat doing normal things; the older man’s had a pretty even split of easy days, and days where all he’s capable of is drinking himself back to sleep. Honestly, it’s been a roller coaster for a couple of weeks. It’s a process, and Wade’s not one to judge how long it takes him to adjust…if he adjusts at all.

Domesticity is a very nice color on the old man. Wade is going to poke the badger, though.

“Who are you, why have you broken into my kitchen, and where did you put my timeline hopping hemorrhoid?”

“If anyone’s a hemorrhoid, it’s you, bub.” Logan scoffs, not even turning to face him.

Wade mosies into the kitchen and steals a waffle. “Put it back.” Logan warns. Logan is still busy and facing the other way, so now the fuck did he even know? “Jesus, did you smell me pick it up or something? Come on, I’m starving.” The merc whines.

“It’ll be ready in a minute. They say patience is a virtue.” Logan’s tone is light, almost cheery. It’s a pleasant change from his typically stormy demeanor.

Wade groans excessively loud and shuffles over to the sink to wash the crusted blood off his hand.

Logan’s movements still like a dog who’s heard a rabbit in the woods the second the water hits Wade’s skin, like the scent has been reactivated or something. He can tell Logan’s turned to face him. A long silence hangs in the air and Wade continues to pantomime washing his hands long after he’s rinsed the soap away.

“Why were you on the floor this mornin’?” Is the loaded question Logan eventually hits him with.

It’s Wade’s turn to face away from the other man. He draws out drying his hands, wringing the worn dish towel repeatedly between his fingers.

“I had a bad dream.” He lies. But the best lies are based on a grain of truth. “When I was a kid, I’d sleep next to my mom’s bed because dad didn’t like me getting into bed with them when I had nightmares. Said it would make me a pansy.” He hangs the towel up and checks the reflection of the toaster to see if Logan’s still looking at him. He is.

Wade turns to face him with a smile. “If the dumb fucker could see me now.” He does a little twirl and a curtsey with his bathrobe.

Logan only seems half satisfied with his answer. He stares at Wade with that look like he’s trying to take Wade apart and inspect the pieces…then he snorts out a laugh and turns to finish preparing breakfast.

Call him NeoPool, because bullet successfully dodged.

Breakfast is perfect. The only argument is over how much chili flake and hot sauce is necessary for scrambled eggs, though the tension in the air when Logan admits to accidentally drinking the last of Althea's orange juice is palpable. They eat, they talk, and it’s incredibly, blessedly boring.

At one point, Logan’s bare foot grazes Wade’s slipper and their knees touch. Wade turns to look at Logan with a whole slab of bacon hanging out of his mouth. He nudges the older man’s knee gently, tilting his head. Logan nudges back, shoots him a flirtatious look, then goes back to his eggs like nothing happened. Wade’s guts churn. Butterflies are an understatement. Logan makes him feel more like he’s swallowed a whole goddamn lepidopterarium.

#poolverine #deadclaws #poolverine fanfiction #deadpool x wolverine #idiots in love #hold my hand #logan howlett #wade wilson #cries and throws up #wade x logan #fluff and angst

33 notes · View notes

canonically47 · 1 year ago

Text

social media headcanons for tdi gen 4 :3

nichelle: has instagram, twitter and tiktok. has a massive following which only slightly decreased after her hollywood fail. she posts pictures of herself and her friends on set or out in the city, and her story is always photos of herself with a song in the background or some important cause. she actually cares about those causes and boosts them as much as she can.

julia: has instagram, twitter and tiktok. tells people to kill themselves uncensored which has caused her to have her accounts banned so many times that she has lost every follower. somehow the super fans of total drama still found her current account and she is bathing in the attention she is receiving. whether it’s love or hate, she likes every comment, and insults haters.

bowie: has instagram, twitter and tiktok. he has a lot of followers due to being the first openly gay contestant, and also a lot of haters for that exact reason, whom he cusses out daily, and so do his fans. some argue he’s toxic; others may say he just doesn’t take anyone’s shit.

MK: has instagram, twitter, tiktok, reddit and tumblr. she uses anonymous or small accounts that never link back to her personally. nobody has found her accounts and it is driving them crazy. doxxes people.

zee: has instagram, tumblr and pinterest. he just posts pictures of himself or of nature that he’s taken. sometimes he gets on instagram live high out of his mind and rambles about the meaning of mankind’s existence for three hours, then it’s radio silence from him for months. he also likes a lot of posts that talk about how confusing gender is, which has led some fans to believe he may not be very cisgender. when asked “Hey Zee, sorry if this is too invasive but are you a boy or are you under the trans umbrella?”, he replied “idk i may be under the umbrella when it rains too hard haha”.

caleb: has instagram, twitter and tiktok. very active on social media and has a large following. he posts motivational gym videos and gets a lot of ‘sigma alpha males’ in his comments, which he deletes and blocks. he likes a lot of cute animal videos, especially cat ones. his most viral video is him with his four kittens and their baby mama.

ripper: has instagram and twitter. used to have reddit but deleted it after getting together with axel. he used to have a large following of mysoginistic boys but he’s deleted his accounts and created new ones to start fresh and try to he more mindful of what he posts. you could say axel has helped his mindset in a lot of ways.

axel: has instagram and twitter. posts pictures of her cats or of her and ripper. she follows some of the previous contestants, including duncan, leshawna, gwen, brick, jo, shawn and jasmine. also posts workout videos and has a lot of incels but also thirsty girls in her comments. people often harrass her or ripper upon finding out they are together because “he doesn’t deserve her” or “she can do better”.

chase: has youtube, instagram, twitter and reddit. fucking insufferable. follows every previous total drama contestant. obnoxious content. lots of hate. videos are made on him and they are not good. hope he dies.

emma: doesn’t have social media; took a break from it and deleted all her accounts after chase’s incel following found her and harrassed her because she left him.

priya: doesn’t have social media. she just watches training videos on youtube.

millie: doesn’t have social media because “it greatly affects her generation” and she is “better than that”.

damien: doesn’t have social media and is chronically offline. nichelle once asked him what he thinks about some tiktok drama and he asked, genuinely confused, what tiktok is. begs people at school to tell him what ‘rizz’, ‘sigma’ and all other slang means, rarely gets an answer and, when he does, it just confuses him more.

scary girl: doesn’t have social media accounts. she uses socials to stalk people, though. if anyone challenges her she appears in their nightmares that night. chase has made a video on her being some demon. even his haters agreed with him.

wayne: has instagram. posts pictures and videos about hockey or including him and his friends. his pfp is him and raj at one of their games. he replies to almost every fan that has found his account.

raj: has instagram. his private account deeply saddens and annoys his fans. he posts the same things wayne posts and puts a lot of pride stuff on his story.

136 notes · View notes

murderhusbands4life · 1 year ago

Text

Hannibal Lecter X Teen Son Reader

second request sorry for the wait.

request: There's not many Hannibal having a son it would be interesting how he takes care of his kid through the years maybe when this kid grows up he moves to Paris in his teenage years but yet he has not met will graham, Then he gives Hannibal a call saying he will come visit and he meets will Graham and Abigail Hobbs then chaos from there.

i love this idea!

Fir the Lithuanian I will be using Google translate and Lithuanian will be in this font

Third person pov...

Not many people knew, well only one person knows that Hannibal has a Son and that person was Bedelia Du Maurier.

Y/N Lecter was Hanninals son, years ago Hannibal was close to one of his former patients before she became one of his victims as the cheasepeak ripper.

She had left behind a Son, a H/C haired baby with Hannibals eyes, when the man first held him in his arms he knew deep in his heart he loved this child and would keep him safe.

Young Y/Ns childhood was strange to say the least, having a physiatrist/ Serial Killer/ Cannibal as a Dad made it strange.

When Y/N was around 5 he witnessed his father kill one of his patients as they began violent with him. Hannibal hadn't noticed his son in the doorway of the office as the body slowly became cold.

But it didn't frighten Y/N only intrigued him in the anatomy of the body, Hanniabl knew from that moment on that his son was special, of course to him he had always been special but then he knew.

When he was 8 Y/N learnt of his family history and that he had an aunt but she died when his Father was young, Hannibal had also taught his Son Lithuanian, the two regularly converse in it.

When the boy was a teenager he left for Paris to study anatomy in on of their prestigious schools of art, Hannibal didn't want to let go off his child but knew it was what Y/N wanted.

The man paided fir everything so his son would be comfortable as he studied and the boy was thankful to his Father, He had promised to visit every once in a while, he kept that promise.

Years later...

Currently Hannibal, Will and Abigail were in Hannibals home watching the man cook in his emaculate kitchen as always, Hannibal had his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves to work.

Abigail rolled her eyes as Will watched Hannibals every move his eyes never leaving his hands, the curly haired man was sitting on one of the bar stools opposite Hannibals workspace.

Hanibal could feel Wills gaze and had a smirk on his lips, Abigail groaned her Dads were so obvious it was sickening.

Then the door bell went, Will got shaken out of his daydreaming a blush on his face, Hannibal looked to the clock '7.40pm who could that be at this time' thought the man as un the corner of his eye he watched Abigail move towards the door.

Y/N wrapped his thin coat around his body tightly, cupping his frozen hands and blowing on them, he forgot how cold Baltimore was, taking a second he cursed remembering he had a key.

"šūdas!(1)" He hissed finding the key finally using his shaking hands to open the door, he rubbed his shoes on thr welcome mat and closed the door behind him.

As he began taking his rain ridden jacket off he called into the quiet house "Aš namie Tėti(2)" He hung his coat up, he was confused usually his Dad was already at to door to greet him.

"tėvas?(3)" He called again, getting no response the first time, the teen grabbed a scalpel he keeps in his pocket for sketching he held it in his hand held down at his side just incase, he then heard foot steps in thr hallway.

The surprise was clear on his face as he saw a strange girl in his home, glaring at the teen he held the scalpel out in front of him. "Who are you?" He exclaimed, this made the girl glare suspiciously at him.

"I should be asking you that, who are you?" The brown haired girl glared back at the strange teenager holding a scalpel like a weapon. "Abigail what is going on?" Came a smooth Eastern European voice from behind the teens.

Y/N gasps at the voice and looks up behind the girl, the girl also turned around at the voice. "tėvas!" Exclaimed the teen throwing his arms around the tall frame of his Father.

Behind then Will and Abigail looked confused almost worried for the boy who had a death wish for touching Hannibal, but to their surprise the man wrapped his arms around the boy.

"tėvas aš namie, aš tavęs pasiilgau(4)" whispers the boy as he held onto the man tightly, he relaxes when he hears his dad mutter back in Lithuanian.

"Mano sūnau, tu grįžai namo, maloni staigmena, aš taip pat tavęs pasiilgau(5)" whispers the ash grey haired man, holding the teen tightly in his arms, after a few moments Will finally broke the awkward silence.

"Hannibal, who is he?" Askes the Agent a hint of jealously in his voice makes Abigail snort, this made Hannibal break the hug but kept his arm wrapped around the boys shoulder, he was a couple inches shorter than the older man.

Said boy looks at the man betrayal on his face. "tėvas! Have you not told then about me! I thought you loved me" complains the boy eyes pooling with tears.

Will and abigail watch Hannibal wearly, but his expression didn't change apart from him sighing softly and tapping the boys head the teen sticks his tongue out childishly.

"Oops" he says, will breathes a sigh of relief he was joking, the man blushes at his reaction to the boy saying he loved Hannibal.

"Will and Abigail this is Y/N, my son. Son this is Will Graham and Abigail Hobbs I apologise for the late introduction I was not expecting him for a few more days" Explains Hannibal eyeing his son out of the corner of his eye.

Abigails jaw drops while Will is silent. "What's! You have a Son!" Exclaims the girl making Y/N smile at her. "Yep nice to meet you tėvas has told me alot about you and his Dear Will" Says the teen cheekily.

He dodges the slap let his way by his father making Abigail laugh, Hannibal sighs at his son, over joyed to have him home finally.

Over dinner Y/N told Abigail and Will and bout himself and how he was studying in Paris in anatomy, like his father he loved sketching bodies and learning about the anatomy.

Y/N and Abigail became close, the teens loved to play pranks on the two men and secretly hint at them liking each other.

The end!

Hope you liked this oenshot I enjoyed writing it!

Requests are open!

Word count: 1264

Lithuanian translations

šūdas! (1) - Shit!

Aš namie Tėti(2) - I'm home Dad

tėvas(3) - Father

tėvas aš namie, aš tavęs pasiilgau(4) - Father I'm home I missed you

Mano sūnau, tu grįžai namo, maloni staigmena(5) -

My son, you have come home, a pleasant surprise

Mano sūnau, tu grįžai namo, maloni staigmena, aš taip pat tavęs pasiilgau(6) - My son, you are back home, nice surprise, I miss you too

#hannigram #hannibal #hannibal x teen reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x teen reader #x teen!reader #x son reader #fluff #father son #lithuanian #will graham #abigail hobbs

170 notes · View notes

someweirdoreblogger · 30 days ago

Text

Onyx Cream Cookie is a well-respected fellow. He is the right-hand of First Cream Cookie for a rightfully great reason.

He is a warrior, upkept. Never underestimate him, don't believe him too burdened by the mold eating away, devouring the majority of his pristine crust and fluffy cream.

He is a fine, disciplined man of a many brilliant word and proficient strategy, what Cookies usually don't realize is those little charms hanging stubborn on the hilt of his ripper are not mere design choices, they are not enchanted by any magic. They hold no special significant prayer or timely devotion to any angel or god. They don't dangle to improve his footing or balance when he unseals his sword from the wrap tightened upon his leather belt.

Gifts. From his closest chosen. Adorable charms; colorful ideas of good fortune, goodwill, and moral support. Onyx Cream Cookie sees a lively silver of you in them, sunshine in his pocket. A mirror couldn't represent this clear reflection. He can't help the sentimentality.

(They're just so...

You.)

They almost breathe. In an inanimate silence, he can almost swear it. The care, the love, the delicate life you line in those pallet shells of material, worked with a monk's patience.

All for no reason at all, then to be reassured, to know Onyx Cream Cookie will occasionally peer down like a curious child and consciously smile, a cresent dawn. Your lovely ornaments, still there looking at nothing at all, slowly waving like leaves lost in the endless gusts of wind, dancing free under the crawling pressure of chill and rain.

In the craftsmanship, twists, curls, swirls, and longful strokes. The reflections of your deepest passions, a strong chain full of fond memories, of all the times he quietly pressed a touch of lip there on the forehead of one of your dear trinkets. Your care for him in a physical form, these truly beautiful cluster of tiny promises strapped to his trusty weapon of inevitable justice, it never fails to remind him there is someone home he must diligently ensure a safe return to.

There are heavy days, tainted bags digging deep in his eyelids, irritating the sensitive infection of mold, the lonely nights-where Onyx Cream Cookie drifts off into a running stream of incoherent thoughts. Where he falls, afloat into a dream, a daze, and he can do nothing more then simply look up, peer to the sky and sees you written in the stars, staring back in a wonder he can't properly describe.

You are timeless. Eternity is you in dough, he knows. Onyx Cream Cookie believes this wholeheartedly, a love he never thought he would hold, grasp fondly in the naked palm of his hands.

Such lovely things, fragile beings we all are in the grand scheme of life and death. All just small layers of flavor in the cake of life Cookies are relentlessly baked in.

Onyx Cream Cookie often offhandedly trips into a trap of his own making, not always on purpose in his honest defense. He catches himself staring, and a man such as himself holds no pride in distractions, but the temptation can't be denied much to his obligation, impossible to resist in the vulnerable moments. Excuses are pitiful, unnecessarily needless. He will be the first to admit, although he is shameless about it at whoever notices him.

The very pieces, lovely shades, the reason he would lay down his dough and flavor for; One most dearest, whose simplicity is a thing of upmost charity and beauty, made by the apple of his eye, he tells himself everytime the sun kisses the horizon. The Heavens is the sightless halo for Earthbread, same as is the sky, the acting color of the peerless ocean.

A sight for sore eyes.

His beloved made those Onyx Cream Cookie will ease; 'I hold them here, right next to me, compared to everywhere else, nowhere rather they be.' Seeing his charms wiggle like gummy worms, mindlessly sing and jiggle like jellybean bells on his ripper's little sheath paints a permanent happy curl on his face.

#mypost #cookie run #onyx cream cookie #onyx cream #you know who you are i wrote this for you #onyx cream cookie x reader #onyx cream x reader #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #my writing #crk #crk x reader

37 notes · View notes

swearingcactus · 1 year ago

Text

borrowing showers past bedtimes

remember the little thing i wrote the other day about v borrowing kerry's shower? yeah i finished it, somewhat, decided it was still relatively short (2k) and too plotless for an ao3 post. so woe, fic be upon ye. (under the cut)

It seemed like it took forever until V’s incessant knocking on Villa Eurodyne’s front door got it to swing open.

Speaking of the door, when the fuck did Kerry even get his front door fixed anyway? They had tried to fix it on a random weekend when V came over, but it kept opening stubbornly no matter what they did. And then Kerry had gotten so mad and tried to rip the door of its hinges, so they dropped the effort altogether. And–

“Oh, shit.” Kerry’s voice brought him back to the present and V blinks to realize Kerry’s looking at him with wide eyes. He pulls down his headphones he had on to his neck. His previous annoyance at being bothered in his house at this hour slipping rapidly into shocked worry at the sight of a merc covered in blood and mud and who knows what else, standing with his arms and feet a shoulder apart.

“Hey Ker, wha‘sup, sorry for bargin’ in so late at night,” V says, words stumbling over the other like a trainwreck, then he gets to the point, “Can I please borrow your shower?”

“Jesus, of course,” Kerry says, and then jerkily opens the door wider like he just remembered he could do that.

“‘m not Jesus, I’m V.” V mumbled out absent-mindedly. He whacks his arm before he gets in, some blood and bits of flesh fell off the sleeves of his jacket, squelching to the floor.

“Do you need a ripper?” Kerry asked. V drags his feet onto the concrete in hopes it’ll lessen the blood stains when he walks in the house.

“Oh, nah, I’m fine. This isn’t mine.” V says, just realizing how this must’ve looked. “I’ve been out the whole day in the rain, went from the badlands then back, got a gig near here.” V walked further into the house, avoiding the items still strewn about the floor. “Got messy. Normal shootout stuff, grenades, the like, then just–” he makes a psh-SHOOO noise with his mouth as he creates an over-exaggerated motion of an explosion with his hands.

“Gonk had a grenade on him and pulled the wrong pin.”

Kerry lets out an amused, morbid chuckle. V thinks that’s nice; he’d probably laugh about it too. If he hadn’t spent the entire day being scorched and sweating under the Badlands sun, hit by dust and dirt. Then got whacked with a storm that came out of nowhere. Then trekked his way up here just to get blasted in the face with someone’s guts. He smelled like garbage and felt so grossed out, but he was still ready to spend the entire ride back to Watson feeling like complete shit… only to find that the earlier shootout had blown off his Yaiba’s fuel tank.

But yeah, he’s fine! He’s totally not gonna lose it if he can’t claw his way out of his clothes within the next 5 minutes. But just in case, he excuses himself to the shower and practically ran in.

–

V's buck-ass naked in Kerry's shower. It's a huge shower, taking up 30% of the entire bathroom and the bathroom itself is bigger than his apartment. And now the large space and the great ventilation is getting him cold. He rubs a foot on top of the other, trying to warm the palms of his feet. He goes to pick up another soap from the rows and rows of product that Kerry had, all lined up.

It took less time to decide on a shampoo to use earlier because there were only two options, and even though he should probably peruse the purple shampoo dedicated to keep hair dye to shine and all that... he had decided to use the one Kerry probably forgot at the back. It had dust on its lid but smelled powdery.

Johnny crackles, all blue pixels and blurs of light, leaning on the glass window next to him. "Occupied, asshole." V says, gesturing to himself. "Also, ever heard of privacy?"

"You lost your privacy rights the second you took longer than 10 minutes to decide on a soap to use. At least start the water. This isn't your megabuilding, Kerry can pay the hot water bills."

Johnny made a good point, but V opted to ignore Johnny for now, as he often does. Instead, he opens another soap bottle and sniffs it experimentally. He could tell this was Kerry's go-to soap. Smelled like mint and perfumed musk. He reads the name of the scent. Gold Desire.

"Oh fucking... his pretentious ass needs a beating." Johnny grumbles. V snorts and closes the bottle. It's a scent reminiscent of Kerry, which V doesn't hate, of course. But the idea of smelling like Kerry didn't sit right with him.

A little too domestic. A little like he's playing pretend as someone's cute little input who's enjoying the high life for years by now. A little too much like wearing a costume. He's already had enough of the idea of turning into someone he's not without a stupid soap doing it for him.

He goes to sniff the next soap and dry-heaves. It smelled overwhelmingly like burning plastic that's vaguely presented with artificial strawberry and vanilla. He coughs and puts it away.

“At this point your clothes are gonna finish being washed before you do.” Johnny complains, glitching away and popping up, squatting on top of the washing machine dramatically.

V picks up another soap, “Oh Johnny, gross, you cummed in this one.”

“I what.”

“Look, ‘Rockerboy’s Wet Dream.’” V says, grinning and showing off a green bottle. Johnny rolls his eyes and pretend-flicked his cigarette’s ash onto the floor.

V continues to read the bottle, “’Citrus and Red Chili.’ Wonder how that smells combined.” V sniffs it, “Spicy!” he announced to Johnny who has now resorted to softly banging his head on the wall behind him. V decided he could just use this one and goes to turn the water on.

He enjoys how it immediately produced the perfect temperature without him even needing to fiddle with the settings or wait. Some fancy tech that detects his temperature and automatically sets the most suitable one for him once his feet hit the shower tiles.

He pours a hefty amount, wincing at how the bottle wheezed and dropped a slimy gel-like substance with beads of scrubs– which hurt when he started to slather it up. Before the contact with skin promptly starts to burn. Granted he has never used a high-end soap with an exfoliator and whatnot, but V doubts it’s supposed to hurt this much.

V picks the bottle up again to inspect it, hoping to see if maybe he’s just using it wrong or something… when he noticed a manufacture date at the top of the cap. He froze in fear. “Holy shit. This was produced before I was even born. Why the hell do Kerry even keep this around.”

He chucks the bottle to the trash bin to the far end of the room. It missed and hit the wall, bouncing onto the floor. V scrubs the rest of the offending soap on him, almost panickedly.

“You can shower with my actual cum, ‘ll hurt less.” Johnny offers mockingly, getting in the stall with him. V elbows him hard, even if he glitches away before it made any believable contact.

“Give it a couple second and you’ll feel the burn too, see if you can joke then.” V grumbles. He takes a long deep breath and spends the next few breaths just watching as the bubbles get washed along with the grime and mud that starts to melt onto the floor along with the hot water. Shoulders slowly slumping as the events of the day start to catch up and some new bruises and cuts make their presence known. He cards his fingers onto his hair and plop goes the pieces of brain matter and what could’ve been an eighth of an eye. He kicks it down the drain, and blindly takes a random bottle.

This one’s still filled to the brim. He opened it to find it still sealed, even. He struggles to open it with his nails and managed to do so... sacrificing some nail paint in the process. He sniffed it almost dejectedly. Before perking up, pleasantly surprised with its unfamiliar but sweet scent.

"Huh.." he says, taking it away to properly read what it was. "Coconut and basil."

"Do you even know what a coconut looks like?" Johnny accused, out of nowhere.

"Sure I do. It's brown, kinda round looking. Floats. Not sure what a basil actually is though." V answers easily, and finally sets the soap next to the shampoo he had picked, and gets to showering in peace.

V stepped out of the bathroom feeling like an actual human again for once, shaking his hair onto the towel roughly to dry it.

"Ker?" he calls out. He hears a faint tune being repeatedly played and walks to the far end of the first floor. Kerry sat with his back to V, with his headphones in, frowning at a computer. He had a guitar in one hand while his other hand was covering his mouth, a finger tapping onto his lips.

Kerry glanced over when he noticed V in his peripheral vision and says, "Hey," but his focus quickly turns back to the computer.

V steps next to him to plant a kiss on the top of his head. "Thanks for the shower." (He could feel Johnny rolling his eyes, making pretend-barfing motions. V made a huge point to tell him to fuck off.)

"No problem," Kerry says, obviously still distracted.

"Busy?" V asks, knowing the answer but thinking he should probably still ask it.

Kerry doesn't really answer, just hums vaguely, somewhat affirmatively.

V spreads his toes out on the floor, feels that it’s dusty, still haven’t been properly vacuumed since god knows when. He shifts his weight. "... Anything I can help with?" He offers. It's a long shot but sometimes Kerry asks his opinion on song lyrics, even though V kinda guessed it's less of asking an opinion and more of showing off an unfinished piece he’s still proud of.

As he expected, the shot fell short of its mark when Kerry replies with a clear, resounding, "No." and by then V knows he's maxed out trying to get a conversation out of Kerry.

He goes to leave Kerry alone.

–

V checks his clothes to see it had finished its spin cycle and is now being dried. Still a couple hours to go. He goes back out and climbs to the second floor, trying to find something to wear in the meantime. Kerry’s a little shorter than him, (“Not by much.” Johnny annoyingly pointed out.) Fine, Kerry’s only a little shorter than him, but his clothes mostly consisted of leather or something so cropped, might as well just go nude.

There were some hoodies, though, large unassuming jackets Kerry bought in bulk to hide from media vultures. Big enough it makes his boxers look shorter than it actually is. V decides to borrow one, goes to bite and suck one of the hood’s strings immediately once he slipped it on.

He leans over the second floor to check up on Kerry from above. Kerry tapped the space bar so hard V swears it’ll crack. He starts grumbling unhappily, then goes to fiddle another tune on the guitar. Yikes. Better leave him alone for now.

“Derivative!” Johnny yells about the tune, over the railing.

If Kerry could actually hear him there would be a bloodbath.

V passed Kerry’s bed and goes back down to the first floor, sitting on the sofa. Kerry stops playing the guitar with an uncomfortable screech and whines loudly.

“Tell him try changing it to a minor tune.” Johnny says. V frowns at him, not sure if he’s actually offering genuine musical help or if he’s just fucking around to try and rile Kerry up. Either way, V knows Kerry wouldn’t appreciate any unwarranted advice at this stage. Johnny clicks his tongue, because he knows it too, he just doesn’t like not letting everyone know what he thinks.

V goes to lean back, only to sit up straight again, looking back and noticing there’s a bong stuck behind him. He pulled it out, then sighs at the mess. Before standing up and picking up empty and half-filled glasses to the kitchen to stick them in the dish washer. He continued to throw out two thongs wedged in the sofa. Wipe the counter from the sticky, spilled alcoholic drinks and their mixers.

It took a while until the sofa and the coffee table in front of it looked nice enough, and V sits and slumps himself onto it in satisfaction, letting the sofa’s crevice swallow him as much as it could.

–

"Hey, what're you doing here?" Kerry asks, gently shaking him to wake him up.

V blinks blearily awake, takes a second to realize where he's at. Then at the question. Wanted to wait up for you sounds too cheesy suddenly and V decides to just shrug.

"You cleaned my place up." Kerry says appreciatively.

"Nnno, just the sofa area." V points out, then yawns, putting his hand into a fist and using his knuckles to cover it. Kerry lets out an 'Awww' kind of sound and V stopped yawning immediately, frowning up at him. Kerry stopped cooing, and grinned, "Come on, let's get you to an actual bed, huh?"

He pulls V up and leads him to the second floor onto the bed. V falls into it immediately, rolling so he can plant his face down onto the biggest pillow Kerry had, while Kerry went off to turn off most of the lights on the switch on the wall.

V doesn't need to see to know when Kerry shuffled into bed when the bed dips next to him. He puts a hand out to feel for Kerry and when his fingers found contact on skin, he scoots closer.

"D'aww," Kerry says again cut off harshly when V pokes his ribs, hard. "Hey you don't want me to think you're cute? Stop being cute."

"Thought you said I was a brat?" V coyly asked.

Kerry lets out a huff, "Alright, down, boy. Way past your bedtime for that."

"Sounds like I need some punishi--" V couldn't help a yawn before he could finish that sentence, "Yeah, point taken." He shuffles again, a leg lands on top of Kerry's before settling. “Sorry I bothered you while you were doing your song.” He says to Kerry’s arm.

Kerry lets out a soft laugh again, rubs the point of contact between his fingers and V's upper arm, “Yeah if you were anyone else, I would’ve told you to fuck off. Consider it a privilege that you got me away from my set and I’m still letting you on my bed.”

“Yay, privilege!” V whoops softly. “Always wanted to know what that feels like.”

Kerry snorted again. They went quiet and V thought that was the end of it. Until Kerry adds, “You know you don’t have to…” he stops like he thought better than to say it. V opens his eyes to look up at Kerry, telling him to go on.

Put on the spot, Kerry begrudgingly continues, “I dunno, just… you know I’m here for you, right? So.. I dunno, V, maybe next time, you could just think of coming over in the first place instead of it being an alternative plan? And, ugh, I know how this might sound to– Look, I’m not saying this ‘cus I’m jealous or, or clingy, okay, I know you got your own thing. Look, you don’t have to act all awkward and proper ‘round me, ‘s all. I mean, come on, V, it’s just me.”

“Uh-huh.” V says, though he doesn’t really get what that’s all about. He shuffles and drops his head back to its original position, closing his eyes. He’s falling asleep again, and he fights to hear what Kerry’s saying next, it gets jumbled into one hazy tune. Something about time, and them being friends, sometimes a little more, something about worrying about not hearing something…

He snuggled to Kerry’s arm again, concludes Kerry’s probably just stressed about the piece. So, he sleepily asks, “Didja finish it though? The song.”

“Huh?” Took a few seconds for Kerry to realize what he’s asking, “Oh… Nope. Gave up on it for tonight.”

“Should try changing it to minor key.” V hears himself say without him actually thinking it, then he groans quietly. He kicks the engram mentally, mumbles out, “Oh, shut up, Johnny…”

“Yeah, shut up, Johnny.” Kerry echoes immediately. But there’s a slight moment where V thinks Kerry’s arm had tensed a tiny bit, before relaxing, as he leaned into V’s hair. Then, "You smell nice."

Thanks, it's coconut and basil. V thinks he says, but he's not sure because he conked out within milliseconds. He thinks that for tomorrow, in-between getting home, and doing gigs, and finding leads about the relic, he’ll try to figure out what a basil actually is.

Author's Note: yeah so coconut and basil huh. The coconut that goes around getting bobbed by the sea but floats with the flow. The basil that could mean anything from a token to ward off the devil to a symbol of love. Also smells great together as a body wash. Fun! Maybe Kerry'll think there's poetry in it if V shared it the next day.

#cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #johnny silverhand #lil guy v #writingcactus #gonna have to go and find my other ficlets to tag with that augh #i drew this tag

126 notes · View notes