akiratoro420

[akiratoro420]

I'd let Joseph Quinn do me in every way in the book. Just saying

I love you, honey ✨️

[akiratoro420]

Wtf is happening everything is calling me out today...

I needed this drag. Let’s change guys and not look back

[akiratoro420]

Yn: Aye, I'm here to get the good stuff.

Here:

Eddie watching the ghost talk at something he clearly can't see or hear.

Food Network

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Ghost!Reader

A/N: Don’t worry it’s not sad and also don’t ask where this came from, I just like the idea of you bothering Eddie as a ghost✨

“What are you doing?” Eddie jumps at the sound of your voice making him hit his head on the top of the fridge. “Why are you home?” You ask as you take a seat on top of the counter in the small kitchen of Eddie’s trailer.

“Please stop fucking doing that.” His voice is full of annoyance as he grabs a beer from the fridge before closing it. “Also I’m home because I live here? Where else would you like me to be?” You roll your eyes as you watch him open his beer and take a sip.

“It’s a Saturday night you should be going out with your friends.” Eddie just walks away from you and into the living room. You quickly jump off the counter and follow him as he gets comfortable in his recliner. “You’re such an old man.” You tease as you cross your arms and lean against the back of the chair.

“Says the ghost that’s been around for how long?” You reach down and flick him in the back of the head causing him to look up at you with an annoyed glare in his eyes.

“I’ve only been a ghost for a few years you asshole.” You explain as you reach down and grab the remote from his hand while he’s too busy staring at you to notice. “So my statement still stands…you’re like an old man.” Eddie let’s out a huff as he turns his attention to the tv and sees you’ve put it on the food network.

“I’m not watching this fucking woman make pies and cakes all night again.” He argues making you laugh as you turn the volume up. “Is this your idea of torture? Are you here to just make me miserable?” You raise an eyebrow as you stand up straight so you can grab the back of his chair and spin him around so he’s face to face with you. “Jesus fuckin-”

“Do I make you miserable?” Eddie feel his heart drop at the sound of your voice, it’s a mixture of sadness and concern.

“What? No you don’t make me miserable.” He tries his best to reassure you as you stare into his eyes. “I uh love the food network it just…makes me hungry that’s all.” It’s not a complete lie but he figures it’s worth it because you just smile at him and hand him the remote.

“I used to bake.” You smile as a blurry memory comes to your mind of the weekends you used to spend in your kitchen baking things for your friends and family. “I think I was good at it.” Eddie just nods because even though you’ve only been haunting his trailer for a few months he doesn’t doubt your talents in the kitchen because half the time you tell him what the chef on the tv is making before they can even announce it.

“I’m sure you were.” Eddie smiles as you slowly spin his chair back around so he can see the tv, you walk around him and take a seat on the floor in front of his feet. “I have a couch you know.” He jokes before he takes another sip of his beer.

“The floor is ten times comfier than your sack full of rocks you call a couch.” You answer as you lean back so your back is resting against Eddie’s shins. “Oh she’s making a baked Alaska.” Eddie just smiles as he sips on his beer, maybe a Saturday night watching the food network isn’t so bad after all.

[akiratoro420]

Well this was fucking perfect.

That's it.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you start to second guess your relationship when eddie doesn't waylay you with his usual abundance of kisses after work. meanwhile, eddie tries to work out what's upsetting you, how to fix it, and most urgently, how to ask you a super important question. fem!reader, 5k

cw: eddie skipping meals at work, suggestive flirting

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

Eddie's borrowed headphones slip down your head as you dance. Nothing dramatic, a shoulder wiggle as you do the dishes. You can't hear the racket you're making, plates crashing into one another on the drying rack, the hot water pounding the basin, the clip of your sock-clad foot against wooden slats as you tap it. 

Your hands burn at the high temperature. Your fingertips are pruned, palms chapped as you finish washing Eddie's mountain of dishes. His whole apartment was in similar disarray before you arrived, laundry to the eyes and one of his haphazard book towers collapsed in the bedroom. The dishes had been scraped and rinsed but not washed, the laundry designated to one corner of the bathroom; Eddie's not unclean, necessarily, but unfocused. 

You had time. You don't mind coming over to help him out. 

Though if he knew you were here doing this he'd blow a gasket. I don't want you wasting your time doing shit I should've done a week ago, he'd say. 

It isn't time that matters to you. You'd take a couple of days out if it helped him, if it meant he could enjoy the place he lives to the fullest extent. Plus, you spend time here too. And you get to borrow his Walkman the whole time. Eddie has the best tapes. 

You hum along to the finishing line of the song and set the last clean cup upside down on the draining board. Satisfied at a job well done, you wipe the sink basin clean, drain suds from the sponge, and turn off the water. Cool air floats in through the open window, kissing your lightly perspiring skin hello. 

You dry your hands on a cloth and push Eddie's headphones carefully down to your neck, more than careful with his things. He works hard for everything he has, days and nights and any shift they want him to take. Most of it goes into his savings account. His spare change gets dropped into a washed out pasta sauce jar on the sill for a forthcoming rainy day. Ridiculous amounts of it get spent on you, and if you asked Eddie he'd say it was perfectly reasonable, sweetheart. 

You're not asking him. You don't think new clothes and sweet treats nearly every time you see him counts as reasonable, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't appreciate it. 

Hence your unsanctioned use of his spare key. You buy him treats too, but money can't buy the satisfaction of a clean home. (Well, it could. Hiring a day maid might've been quicker and cleaner in the end, but would a day maid have put their heart and soul into dusting his figurines with a makeup brush for fifteen minutes?)

You turn around with Eddie on your mind, feeling grateful and tired at once. Your thoughts stutter at the warm body standing casually in the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the jam, a rucksack and a carabiner of keys hanging from his curled fingers. 

"Hey," Eddie says. 

You flinch like he's coming at you, startled by his sudden appearance. 

His laugh is apologetic, at least. "Woah! I thought you heard me, where's your head?" 

You slap a hand to your racing heart and huff out a breath that fans up your face. Eddie straightens from his cool guy slouch, dropping his keys on the counter and sliding his bag beside them. 

"It's around here somewhere," you say through a smile, trying and failing to glare at him as he puts his hands on your waist. "You scared me bad." 

"It was accidental." 

He pulls your hips to his and leans back. A close pressure without being particularly sexual. It's obvious that he's looking you over, like you might've miraculously run into harm in the sixteen hours you've been apart. 

"I didn't think you'd be back yet, sorry," you say breathlessly, still recuperating from your scare. 

"I'm the sorry one." 

He brings a hand to your face. If there's one thing you can count on with your boyfriend, it's that he's going to find an excuse to touch your face at least once a day, whether it be with the back of a ring-heavy finger trailing down your cheek lightly, or a flat, hot palm, calluses scratching ever so slightly as he squeezes it into whatever shape he feels like. Never cruel, but melding. 

He's in a mood. 

Not salacious. Teasing at most, he pulls a rough line down from the corner of your eye to your lips. 

"Why are you doing my dishes?" he asks. 

His hands smell like citrus scrub and white vinegar. They must've had him cleaning in the kitchen at work again. 

"So you wouldn't have to. I know you don't mean to let them pile up." 

"I'll find my laundry in the dryer, I'm guessing." 

"Nope. Folded in your dresser, more like."

He pulls your chest to his, the heat of his breath kissing your nose. It smells like the spearmint gum he chews obsessively during his morning shifts. Eddie has a theory that eating in the mornings is breaking a seal —you'll be much hungrier for the rest of the day than you would've been otherwise. Better to wait for lunch. 

You hate his theory (three meals a day plus as many snacks as he needs would be perfect,  if he could find the time) and his gum for what it represents. It reminds you that he likely hasn't eaten today, and you're quick to start brainstorming ideas for dinner from the ingredients you'd seen while cleaning. He has ground beef, enough eggs to make pasta, and a tupperware of frozen soup from last Wednesday. The world's your oyster. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. You don't have time to answer. "I wish you didn't do all the laundry, babe. Those stairs are a fucking killer." 

He leans that last inch. A kiss is coming any second now, your pulse capering between your ears. A hundred kisses shared between you and you wait for the next with the same calibre of excitement as you did for the first. 

"I owe you a deep tissue massage, right?" he murmurs. 

You beam at him, pushing the heel of your palm against his chest to widen the distance between you into something a little less heart-pounding. "You haven't eaten today, have you?" 

"I'm pretty hungry," he says, his voice smooth as angora silk. 

He looks, again, like he might kiss you. His eyes dip to your lips, a molten brown shining in the kitchen light. You wait, and you wait, but he doesn't close the gap. 

You push your smile to one side, your eyelashes twined in the corners from the force of it. Your smile isn't entirely genuine. It's cool if he doesn't wanna kiss you… sort of. He can do whatever he likes, of course, you'd never force him to kiss you just to keep you happy or for any other reason, but you're a little down at the idea that he doesn't want to. You love how they feel. You're used to them as both hello and goodbye. 

Eddie might not want to kiss you, but he isn't putting on a show, his amorous smirking a reality you battle with (read: give in to, enjoy, daydream about) on the regular. Perhaps he isn't eager to ravish you after a full day bussing tables. That's more than okay. 

However he might be feeling, you aren't going to let him go hungry a minute longer. "Dinner?" you ask. 

"I was thinking sloppy Joes," he says, his hand running down your arm. He turns for the fridge. You follow. "Brioche buns?" 

You step in front of him, the fridge door a cacophony of glass rattling as you tug it open. "I'm making them." 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, moving you bodily to the side. It's too quick for you to dig your heels in. 

"You used to be a gentleman," you complain. 

"No, I didn't." He taps your ankle with the rubber toe of his converse. 

You make dinner together, to each other's chagrin. Eddie steals spatulas and frying pan handles from your grip. You bump his hip away from the stove grill to toast buns. When you sit down together on the couch, it's at war, elbows digging into soft spots and cups placed out of reach on the coffee table. 

"Dick," you say. 

Eddie takes a bite, says, "You're the dick, dick," and starts shovelling fries onto your plate. "Giving me more fries is ridiculous. We should eat the same portions, we're the same age." 

"But one of us had breakfast and lunch, and one of us didn't," you say, using your fork to give his gifted fries straight back. 

And here's where you get the first inkling that something's making him not want to kiss you, emphasis on you. 

Eddie loves kissing you when he feels loved. For obvious starters, whenever you tell him you love him he makes sure to kiss your lips. When you make him laugh, when you wash his hair in the shower, when you draw stars into his palms, all those things garner a fond peck to the temple. He kisses the space just under your ear so often you're sure there's a contusion in the shape of his mouth there, permanent and purpling, his go-to whenever he's laying on top of you or hugging you from behind. 

You can count on a mildly greasy kiss no matter the meal. Eddie loves eating dinner together. He waits for you to get home, sometimes for hours, to share a plate with you. You've never not indulged him with a kiss. Tonight, he doesn't ask. 

It would be here. Name-calling dripping in affection, you elbow glancing off of his as you cut into your sloppy Joe, and the TV failing to cover the sound of a quick kiss before he digs in. You're gutted at the lack and surprised to have noticed it, but you don't go so far as to mourn the loss: Eddie's likely too hungry to think about kissing, that's all. Right?

Despite attempts to convince you otherwise, he's hungry. He finishes his plate in what feels like five big bites, hair tucked behind his ears, an innocent but far off look about him as he wipes his fingers in a piece of kitchen towel and leans back into the couch cushions with a small groan. 

"We should stop eating on the couch," he says. 

"You told me you wanted to sit here." You're confused. 

"It's like, testing fate. I'm a mess. I'll ruin it and have to get a new one I can't afford." 

You chew on a fry. "I mean," —you put your hand over your mouth, pleased when he turns to you with a ready-made smile, like the act of just looking at you is one he enjoys— "even if you drop something on it, we can Didi Seven it. Or get one of those fancy water vacuum things." 

"It's my couch," he says. "You wouldn't have to clean it." 

"You're my boyfriend," you respond, "so I wouldn't mind." 

"I'm your boyfriend," he says, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side. 

His lips close, his eyes tracking up and along the lines of your features with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. You'd like to say that it's love, but you're starting to think it's something else. 

"Don't say it like that. You sound too unsure," you say.

Amusement dances across his face. "Are you finished?" he asks, opening his hand for your tray. 

"No," you say, faux-stroppy. You take another fry. 

Eddie grabs his tray. He skirts around your legs and stops at your side. In his more dopey moods, he'd take your face into his hand again and hold your head still as he kisses your crown. 

He squeezes your shoulder. "I'm not unsure about anything," he says warmly. "I'll get you a drink, yeah? Ice?" 

A chuck under the chin with his forefinger and he's gone, leaving you sitting there wondering what's wrong with him. Home an hour now and not one single kiss? Is this the end of the honeymoon phase? How do people survive this shit, you think. It's agonising.

Your chewing turns morose. 

You and Eddie go through phases, waxing and waning, as most people do. There's always love there, but sometimes there's so much of it you don't know what to do with yourself besides lavish in it. Only yesterday morning he'd been in your bed, shirtless (as you often wish he'd be), dark ink like bruises in the low light where it climbed the lengths of his arms and his bare chest. You were lax under his touch, his nose and lips pressing to your skin as he kissed you from rib to soft tummy. Slow, kissing you as though he had nowhere else to be but there. As though his next shift wasn't thirty minutes around the corner. 

You were mortified when he blew a raspberry. Now you're thinking you might peel out of your shirt and ask him to do it again if it means he'll kiss you in any definition. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks as he returns, his hand sliding along from your shoulder to the other while he steps over your legs. 

"What are you thinking about?" you ask. 

"Feeling very repetitive today, are we?" he teases, no consideration for your dinner tray as he collapses into the seat beside you. 

You're expecting his cheek on your shoulder, his hair tickling your upper arm. It doesn't come. Worried he's discouraged by your tray, you place it on the coffee table and sit back. You really want him to kiss you. 

Kissing someone isn't something you thought you'd want to do before you met Eddie. To be kissed, sure. To give a chaste peck, absolutely. But to have someone put their weight on you, to press at the seam of your lips with their own and to wade in like a steady wave, one breath at a time, until you're unsure where the boundary of your mouth begins and his ends, that was all new. Eddie kisses like he loves, loud and brash, rough and eager. Gentle when he needs to be but arduous. 

He makes you feel wanted in a thousand ways and the first is his greedy penchant for stealing a kiss or three at every opportunity. It's weird that he hasn't kissed you yet. He's acting weird. 

"You're being super weird," you say. You feel like a pressure cooker with steam pouring from the release valve. 

Eddie smirks at you. "That so? Any explanation attached to that, or are we name-calling? I have some names for you, if we are." 

"Oh, I have to know." 

"Figured you would." He throws his leg over your thigh. The firm muscle of it tenses as he wiggles his foot. 

"What were you gonna call me?" you prompt impatiently.   

"Sweetheart. Angel." He turns his cheek into the back of the couch, bringing his pinky to your face and drawing a line from the smoothest skin under your eye outward. "Pretty. Very pretty." 

"Says you," you murmur. If he thinks you're so pretty, why won't he kiss you? "I can't work out your angle today." 

"Am I acting differently?" he asks, seemingly unperturbed. 

No. He just hasn't kissed you. There might have been a moment when he first came home where you thought he was hesitating to kiss you, but since then he's acted exactly as he usually does (minus kissing, therefore making it unusual). 

You sigh, half serious and half wanton sadness. "No." His nose twitches. You startle. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"What, do I have bad breath?" you ask, bringing a hurried palm to your mouth to try and test it. 

Eddie pulls your hand down, admonishing through a laugh, "You obviously don't. You know I'd tell you, babe." 

"Oh." 

"I got gum though, if you want it." 

You bat his chest. "I bet you do… I don't know what it is, then. I give up." 

"What's what?" he asks. He takes a curl of his hair around a painted fingernail. It coils on his finger, where he pinches the end, bringing it up to your chin and drawing a smile under your lips with the tip. 

"I… do I have something in my teeth? A zit? What's the issue?" you ask, lost. 

"There's no issue!" He laughs, and he curves his hand gently around your neck. "Why do you think there's an issue?" he asks. A thread of his voice wavers. Impossible to notice if you didn't know everything about him, down to the stray hair. 

"No, because," —your voice shrinks— "you're being off with me." You won't cry, but it's impossible to stop the doubt that seeps into your voice. "You're not…" 

Eddie strokes your neck with his thumb, growing serious. "I'm not what?" 

"You haven't kissed me." You avoid his eyes. "Not since you saw me." 

"I'm sorry," he says, immediately dipping forward. 

You pull back. "Wait–" 

Eddie waits. "What?" he asks. 

"I don't want you to kiss me just 'cus I asked you to." 

Eddie pushes his hand upward, his index finger shaped to your jawline. He rubs a quarter circle from your chin to your jaw tentatively with his thumb, an awful sorry look in his eyes that he gets whenever you're upset. "Well, I always want to kiss you," he confesses. His eyebrows furrow. "You know that, right?" 

"But you haven't, today." 

Is that pathetic? you panic. Noticing, caring, it feels so, so silly all of a sudden, you can't believe you spilled it that easily. You may as well have written clingy loser across your forehead in glaring pen. 

Eddie sees it. He doesn't cringe at you like you fear he will. 

"Ah," he says, almost humming, his lips barely parted, "that's just not okay, is it? My girl waiting on a kiss." 

He leans in. You shy away, wanting his kiss but wanting the run up more. Eddie follows your lead, keeping space between you, rubbing a diligent and affectionate circle into your cheek. His touch is soft enough to tickle. 

"I'm not trying to act desperate, I just figured– I thought there was a reason you hadn't," you say. 

Eddie asks you in his softest, most genial tones if he can kiss you. 

You don't say yes so much as you lift your chin and close your eyes. Your relief is sharp as he closes the fizzing space between you, as he guides your face to his and holds it there like a treasured pearl cupped in two palms. He makes a sound at the back of his throat that kills any doubts of his affection stone cold dead. Your lips part a millimetre if that, and Eddie slots into the gap, his hands growing less and less careful by the second, the pressure of his touch amping up. He moves back only long enough to turn his head, your noses bumping, another breathy sound slipping past his lips. You smother it gracelessly with a rougher reciprocation. 

It's not your longest kiss, but it works. It's the reassurement you needed. Eddie pulls away to suck in a harsh breath, the feeling foreign against your tingling lips. His face dips, his eyes out of view. His hands move in twin down the slope of your neck, languish, feel along the thin layer of your t-shirt as though he's looking for some secret answer. 

"I'm not trying to act weird around you, I'm just nervous," he says.

You feel your back aching, stiff as a rod. "Nervous?" you ask quietly. 

Eddie rests his forehead on your chin. He whispers a cuss, and then he sits up very tall and looks you in the eye. 

It takes him five seconds to tell you what it is that's making him anxious. In that time, you come up with a handful of things. I lost my job. I don't want to be with you anymore. There's someone else. There's no one else, but you did something that pissed me off/made me uncomfortable/disgusted me. I'm sick. None of your guesses are good, and none prepare you for what he asks next. 

"Would you wanna move in with me?" 

His hand meanders along your thigh. An awkward smile catches his lip like a fish hook, tugging it up on one side. 

"I… what?" 

"I think it's a good idea. I was trying to ask you yesterday, and now today it didn't feel right. I don't want you thinking I'm asking because you did my laundry." His hand warms your thigh, a pervasive heat. Your face is similarly hot. "We could split rent, and you could keep saving. You wouldn't have to deal with your shitty neighbours. You'd be closer to your job, and– and to me. It's a good idea," he repeats. "There's a ton of reasons it would be good for you, but I'm asking 'cus I missed you so bad last night I couldn't sleep. I wanna be with you whenever we can be." 

"You'd really want me to?" you ask. 

"You'd never have to wait for a kiss again," he says hopefully. "I know it's a big move. I get it if you're not ready." 

"I'm ready," you say. You don't know it's true until you've said it aloud. 

Delight sparks and catches like sun-dried tinder. Elation lights his eyes. "Holy shit, yeah? You want to?" 

"Yeah," you say, nodding emphatically, trying not to yell. "Yes, I want to. I'd love to! That would be–" 

"A dream," he finishes, snatching your waist into his grasp, basically yanking you into his arms.

"Amazing," you say, your arms forced over his shoulders. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his head, curls that smell of almond oil and a generous dollop of hair mousse crushed to your face. Your eyes slip closed. You suck in an inconspicuous breath, though your self-indulgent action is interrupted by a groan, Eddie squeezing you hard enough to make the bones in your back click three at a time. 

"I can't believe you, sweetheart. I don't kiss you for an hour and you think there's something wrong?" He laughs.

"I'm spoiled," you say sheepishly. To draw his attention, you add, "I can't believe you, afraid to ask me that! Why would I say no? I love you." 

"I love you, too," he says, pulling the small of your back tighter still so he can dig his nose into the side of your head. 

He kisses you all over the side of your face until you're painted in little warm patches from overexposure. A loved up mess, and dizzy with relief.

Relief and excitement. "How soon do you want me in here?" you ask, sitting back. 

"How soon do you want another kiss?" he asks. 

"Will we be stealing each other's questions all day?" you ask. 

"For the rest of time, if I get my way." 

"That's so corny," you whisper, ecstatic. 

Eddie pushes you down onto the couch cushions. You know before he so much as pulls up a knee that he's going to climb on top of you. You make room for him, your heart feeling like it could breach through your ribs one bone at a time. 

"What are you doing?" you whisper with a smile. 

"Making up for lost kisses."

—

Two Weeks Later

Eddie wakes to a kiss. 

Your arm thrown over his waist, your hand feeling greedily at the trim curve atop his hip, you've well and truly wrapped yourself around him. Like an octopus. He imagines the popping sound of your suckers if he tried to detach you (not that he'd want to). 

You're dotting shy, soft kisses down the column of his throat. "I love you," you say softly between them, a melody that turns him to jelly. "I love you. Love you, love you, love you." 

Your kisses are a compromise —after the general holy fucking shit-ism of your conversation a fortnight ago, Eddie put his foot down. He was out of his mind knowing his apartment was about to become yours, but he was also incredibly unhappy about the faces you'd made before he asked. He remembers your voice, your apprehension as you mumbled, "No, because, you're being off with me."  

Eddie had been totally off trying to figure out how to ask what was potentially the second most important question he could ever ask you; he was distracted enough by it that he totally forgot about kissing you senseless. And your worrying asked a totally new question he hadn't thought of before. Why does Eddie always kiss you first? And why had the lack of a kiss been seen as a bar, and not an invitation? 

Hence Project Kiss Me, Stupid. Or Project Kiss Me Stupid if he's feeling particularly in love (because you aren't stupid at all, but you may have made an unintelligent assumption (Eddie not kissing you for a few hours did not mean even slightly that he isn't gross in love). 

The project was more like a proposal. Eddie decided you should be making the first move more often, so you weren't ever left feeling like something was wrong between you for lack of a kiss again. "If you ever think I'm mad at you, plant one on me. I promise I won't be mad much longer," he told you.

You're passing with flying colours, as far as he's concerned. Eddie thinks your moving in was gift enough, but fuck, all these kisses? He's been a walking vestibule of love, and lust, and sickening fondness for two weeks now. Project Kiss Me Stupid is the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's a genius.

"Good morning," you say into his neck, a hint of teeth scratching him with the greeting. Eddie cups the back of your head with a weak, tired groan as your lips close over his pulse.

"Morning," he says. His voice is thick with the grit of sleep. 

"This is okay?" you ask, pausing in your kiss. 

Eddie tips his head back heavily into plush pillows, your pillows, fresh with new bedding to match the nightstands you'd decided on together. "Please," he says. His arm slides behind your back to belt you in. "I'm gonna think you don't like me anymore if you take any longer." 

"Very funny," you murmur. 

He knows he's forgiven for teasing when your face dives back into the crook of his neck. His eyes shutter closed, blissed, thinking, God, I could get used to this, when you nip him. 

"You didn't like my joke, I take it?" 

"It was funny," you say, giving him a scratching kiss.

"That's counter-intuitive," he warns. "I like it rough." 

You fall away from him to cover your face with both hands. He knows he's rubbing off on you at the sight, your head shaking a theatrical side to side that fails to hide real embarrassment beneath it. You look especially tortured. 

Eddie knows exactly how to fix it. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!

[akiratoro420]

My A/B/O starved ass be readin did like 👀

alpha!eddie next i am begging please

I already got something cookin in the kitchen for yall I promise ☺️

[akiratoro420]

I want to grow old with this man. Please for the love of God write a badass fighter reader that's involved with the ST plot. I SWEAR TO GOD IF I SEE ANOTHER READER WITH BABY PINK NAILS AND A PINK ROOM AND THERE SOFT STUPID DUMB BIMBO WHORE SLUT- . I'm sorry I wish there was more to the experiences written out with Eddie I wanna work on writing a song with him, I wanna cook with him, I wanna do art, I wanna live my life with him. NOT JUST FUCK ALL THE TIME.

For me I love him bc I love metal music I luv nerd shit. I'm creative just like him, I've always felt isolated and I love his silly voices and jokes, his outbursts his ADHD ass and mine are kindred spirits. I've always been into the alternatives and it's honestly disappointing to see the over saturation from such a fake girly pink baby uwu woe is me girl perspective. I dunno the reader never has any problems there some cheerleader or popular girl with manicured nails. Can't do ceramics with those (i do ceramics) I see that eddies got a thing for cheerleaders but ngl I don't think he wouldn't have complained abt a girl- OR DUDE OR THEY. Who was actually involved in his interests while doing their own thing with everyone else. I know there is so much more to him than that. The way he's portraid as a bad person or mean or cheating just isn't fucking true to his character. He's goofy and he's a dork. He's not some dommenering manwhore sex god that gets all the chicks. He's would not be a suave Casanova. The fics all have porn plot rules and I'm sick of it. I want more action, suspense, mystery and twists. I want the other ST characters utilized and see how those relationships would interact and develop.

With all this being said I hope that the fandom doesn't die

And that other stories and perspectives can survive the onslaught of cookie cutter, recycled garbage we've been reading since our wattpad days.

The second we forget abt him is truly when he'll be gone, so I'll do my best to do right by him.

Sry for the long as fuck rant.

And uh thank you

That is all.

Okay somebody be fucking honest with me:

Does the Eddie Munson fandom just fucking care about sex and smut????

Should I just go????

I'm sick and fucking tired of seeing nothing but smut or fluff loosely tacked on to smut to justify it being nothing but smut on my dash.

And the whole "It's sOoOoOoOoO tragic Eddie died a virgin 😩" thing is, LOWKEY giving me fucking Acephobic vibes.

The entirety of the Human experience and a life worth living isn't dependent on whether or not someone dies a virgin or has sex.

I am feeling like an outcast, IN THE OUTCAST FANDOM with the character who, initially, felt like home to me! And now I just feel like an outsider!

[akiratoro420]

Don't @ me

@yeehawman-official

Bitch knows

their bantering is so funny without context 😭😭

[akiratoro420]

Oh no.

Oh god.

I am not ok.

Need-

OH GODDDDD AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I am not ok.

Spontaneously combusting and it’s only the first few pictures on the first fucking day

enhanced by yours truly

[akiratoro420]

2500 likes!

Boy do I have fuckin problems

And Eddie Munson ain't one

[akiratoro420]

*NSFW

Viewer discretion advised

I need Eddie so bad it's not even funny guys 😵‍💫

Hehehe

Alright ik no one asked for this but...

It exists.

Akira x Eddie Sketches

👆 bunny girl Akira

👇

Shitty attempt to draw his room

Heh 👀

Hahahaha!! I added moe!

...

Heh

There is more to come, lemme kno what u wanna see next 👀

@lis-likes-fics

[akiratoro420]

Ok. We need to talk about this.

Sigh

But it's fine, I just rewrite it in my head.

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

[akiratoro420]

I have nothing to add.

That is all.

its so me

[akiratoro420]

Ok ok I know I never make any sense but I tried.

But this is the idea:

Powered Hawkins lab reader x Eddie Munson

Ok so.

Socially stunted and awkward Hawkins lab reader tryna figure out how to function in "normal" society. Step 1: making some goddamn friends other than the kids and the older kids including Robin and Steve. AND most importantly of all, Step 2: figuring out Eddie Munsons deal. She hasn't gotten close to any other humans besides the gang. So she breaks the peace by sharing food since she's terrible with her words, and has been in the outside world for only a year. She's always on the defense and ready to attack. So shes doing something she never thought she would ever do, which is letting her guard down and being nice. To a grown man no less. Food was kept sparce at the labs to keep the kids weak, so to break the ice and make peace she offers food because god knows that boy doesn't eat actual meals. And so offering Eddie his favorite pretzels wasnt anything to lose your mind over, but no one should get the wrong idea. Right? Shes just being nice. No reason other than that.

And I imagine it going down like this 👇

Reader now giving Eddie munson pretzels

She wouldn't say anything

Just walk up to the table facing him

Would just slide the bag twords him

Throwing it really.

Almost aggressively?

He cocks his head to the side giving a questionting look, eyes flicking from the bag to the reader.

"What? Don't you eat those things? "

Why does she sound mad?

Yes. This is reader being nice.

At least in her head.

Maybe he will understand her geasture and offer his undying friendship.

Or maybe not.

Sry if you couldnt understand shit but it's out there now.

@quinnsmunson

so umm... send requests??

[akiratoro420]

Need to spread this around

Canon Eddie Munson:

Fandom Eddie Munson:

Just a thought.

eddie munson has no game and he’s delusional about it, you’ve heard it here first folks!

[akiratoro420]

Thank you 🙏❤

so uh..basically this is the most accurate to sound like Eddie’s voice w/ y’all fuckin. he’s talkin sm😵‍💫 if i throb; you will too 🤷🏽‍♀️

12 mins : gets juicier @ 6:30 ⬇️

8 mins : gets juicy @ 3:10 and very juicier @ 6:15⬇️ all through and through tbh⬇️⬆️

don’t say I neva did nun for yall🤣

[akiratoro420]

Quite enjoyed this

cake — send me in a character and a prompt and i’ll write you a blurb!

eddie munson + ditzy!luna lovegood!reader asking him to be her first kiss?

kissing bugs

summary you bring eddie some kissing bugs.

content eddie munson x fem!lunalovegood!reader

note okay so indianapolis does have kissing bugs but I made everything else up lol. also luna lovegood reader is so fun ily harms.

There’s a knock at Eddie’s window. And before he even has time to get up, there’s a knock at the front door. He doesn’t put a shirt on, he has a feeling he knows who it is.

Opening the door, he’s delighted his suspicions were correct. You stand on his front step, a pair of tights and a rain coat that’s stuck into the waistband. You sport your favourite rain boots, yellow rubber caked in mud.

"Hello, Jesus," Eddie laughs and doesn't mean to. You take your boots off before he can ask you to and he's kind of surprised.

"Teddie," you pant, smiling so wide he worries for your cold cheeks. "You won't believe what I found."

Eddie has several suspicions, most of them are exciting though he leaves room for error. He lets you in through his door before your teeth start to clack or his nipples freeze off. He's regretting being so naked.

"What'd ya find, pretty?" he asks and doesn't miss your excited hum as you sit down at his kitchen table. You leave your coat on as rain drips from its plastic hem. He doesn't have it in him to mind, you look too excited and he can always mop it up later.

You pull a jar from the inside of your jacket, dry compared to the rest of you, and place it on the table. It's taped over the top. holes poked through the paper. "Look!''

Eddie gets closer and crouches down. Bugs. Of course, it's bugs. "Where'd you find them?" He reaches out to push your hair away from your eyes and wipes a smudge of mud from your cheek. He laughs to himself, you're a mess.

You're so excited, Eddie can't believe it. Actually, he can, but you've never been this elated over bugs before. Not even when you found those two swallowtail butterflies. Eddie, do you know how cool this is?

"Out behind Mr Nick's house," you tell him. There's a hint of sheepishness to your voice and Eddie knows why.

"Mr Nick's?" Eddie splutters. He has to sit down. "Y/N, that's on the other side of the forest. Did you bike all the way there, and back, in the rain?"

"Well, I saw them out there the other week but I ran out of time!" you tell him. You're exasperated suddenly and Eddie feels bad for tamping down your excitement. Though worrying for you comes like second nature to him now. "I had to go back, Eddie. They only come out before it rains."

"I would've driven you," he says and means it. Two hours for the last trip he took you on. Not for bugs, though he thinks he probably would, a special edition comic book in Indianapolis.

"It's okay," you smile. God, still smiling, Eddie thinks. "I've got them now."

Eddie picks up the jar to inspect them. There are only two. A thirty-minute round trip in the rain for two bugs. Eddie loves you. "What are they?"

You grin like you're happy he asked. "Kissing bugs," you tell him, knuckles rapping on the wood of the table. "They're kissing bugs, Eddie."

"Oh," he says. "Cool!"

You hold them up to the light proudly. "I know they're no spittlebugs, I still haven't found any of those. But these are supposed to be really lucky."

"Lucky?"

You place them back down and look Eddie in the eye. "Well, they're," you clear your throat, "they're supposed to bring love. You're supposed to give them to someone you want to kiss."

Eddie feels a bit dizzy for a moment. Who are you giving kissing bugs to? Who do you want to kiss? "Oh," he tries to act nonchalant. Stern face and slumped shoulder, spread legs. "Who are you gonna give them to?"

You bite down into your lip absentmindedly and slide the jar over to him. "Eddie, why do you think I'm here with a jar of bugs and not at home?"

"You always show me your bugs," Eddie says. He imagines you giving them to someone else and doesn't like the outcome. Last time you'd shown the group they'd all wrinkled their faces up. Except for Robin, for some reason. God, you're going to give them to Robin.

"Eddie, I'm giving them to you."

Oh. "Oh."

"Is that okay?" you double down.

One of the bugs flies against the wall of the jar and it cracks gently. Eddie blinks quickly. "Yeah, totally." He feels like an idiot. "Wait, you wanna kiss me?"

"Yeah," you giggle. Eddie feels it in his chest like a punch, quick and bruisable. "Please, Eddie."

"Wait, me?" What the fuck is he doing?

"Yeah," you nod, raincoat squeaking. "It'll be my first and I trust you. But only if you want to"

Eddie feels really lucky suddenly. A warmth creeps up his chest and swatches his cheeks. "Yeah," he says and can't believe he is. Not that he doesn't want to kiss you, because god, does he want to. He just never saw it happening this way. "Yeah, c'mon, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart," you say under your breath as he takes you by the hand. "Where're you taking me, Eddie?"

"The couch," he says. "Gotta make it comfortable for my pretty girl."

Eddie sits down and waits for you to take off your coat. You push yourself into his side and turn outwards so your knee rests over his. He takes your elbow and holds you close. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You nod.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." You nod again

Eddie laughs and leans in. You lean in too, unthinkingly, like two opposite ends of a magnet. He tilts his head first and he swells when you close your eyes, waiting. He kisses you. It's quick and he leads, he doesn't expect much, and even if he did, he's too busy trying to make it feel okay for you. He's distracted by your soft lips and your breath up against his cheek for him to feel anything for himself selfishly. The soft hiccup he feels from the bottom of your throat when his tongue swipes your bottom lip has him pulling away before he does something reckless.

Your eyes open up, a crush of soft eyelashes that flutter as you focus back in. You're still so close Eddie feels like he could count them.

"Was that okay?" Eddie can't stop himself from asking.

You nod like you can't open your mouth again and Eddie likes it more than he should. He doesn't like how his stomach flips. "Yeah?"

You tuck yourself into his side and fold in on yourself, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Teddie," he hears you say.

"No," he says, trying to act unaffected, "no, it's no problem."

There's a silence that Eddie doesn't like. He thinks he's disappointed you. "Do you think we could do that again?"

Eddie freezes. "Yeah," he scrambles, "yeah, of course, we can."

"Cool."

"You're not gonna find me more bugs the next time you wanna kiss me, right?" he laughs and throws his arm over your shoulder. He's had you like this before, though this time it feels a lot different - better.

"I don't think so," you laugh.

"Good. You'll catch a cold."

You push your face into his neck and breathe in. "I think the kissing bugs would go extinct, anyways."

Eddie roars with boyish laughter. You're right, with the amount of time you spend kissing him after now, they would've gone extinct within a month.

[akiratoro420]

joseph quinn:

me: