#Two fools in love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loveshotzz · 2 years ago

Note

fuck luna!! this made me so soft!! I was smiling like an idiot the whole time. I’m in love with him too god dammit!! (also the way i got jealous argyle was with eden and not me 😠)

the chin grab made me WEAK!!

firstly I love your new blog layout it’s so fucking cute, secondly I love you 💕 thirdly, for your baby prompts, I’m thinking……… butterfly

happiness is a butterfly

got a little carried away with this one. 3k words of modern day!best friend!eddie munson x afab!reader. contains: fluff, alcohol, confessions of feelings, bisexual reader, two friends in a room who might kiss (they do), suggestive innuendo (eddie’s a sweetheart), and argyle’s matchmaking ways. thank you @breddiemunson and @ghost-proofbaby for always calming my wild thoughts, and katie’s line where eddie asks reader not to make him say what she already knows. genius, that one.

“happiness is a butterfly

try to catch it like every night

it escapes from my hands into moonlight…”

happiness is a butterfly - lana del rey.

Photo after photo. Swipe after swipe. Endless hopefuls that aren’t really hopefuls, because there aren’t many of those in Hawkins these days.

No—there are merely boys, wearing the skin of men, playing with hearts with a carelessness that leaves damage in their wake. Leaves your heart ripped to shreds; battered and bruised. Wounded, but not broken, with jagged lines where smooth surfaces had once been.

Tonight is no different. Tonight you mourn your relationship with Travis. Travis, who played hockey and apparently a different girl or guy in every state. You’d only found out through social media.

One of the girls he brought back to his hotel room had posted an image on her story while he slept, which then surfaced on another person’s social media account, and then eventually became a social media article on some gossip website you couldn’t, for the life of you, be bothered to remember.

You suppose the “Travis debacle,” as Eddie has been calling it, is your fault. A guy from out of town. The allure of some famous player with a broken down car in front of the Hideout, where you worked as a bartender, that you’d had your friend Eddie fix up as a favor.

You’d tossed him his keys as the sun set, burnt orange and red across the summer sky, and he’d asked, “How much?”

And suddenly you’d spent the week welcoming him around Hawkins, as well as the intricacies of your susceptible heart. Had preened and praised him while he perused his options in the next town over on his problematic apps.

The same apps you’re now frowning at, watching the population around you continue to dwindle with every pass of your thumb.

“You know, they say insanity is—”

“Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

You shoot a glare Eddie’s way, watching his dexterous fingers pull his hair back into a makeshift bun at the back of his head. Those same fingers reach down to grab your glass, chipped black nail polish capturing your attention as he draws your drink up to his lips and takes a long sip.

“Tequila. Travis really fucked up.” He chuckles. The movement has his cropped shirt billowing around his hips, tattoos on his sides visible where the holes his arms extend through as he settles down beside you. “You know, I think you need to ditch the apps. I did, and I’m much better for it.”

“You got a puppy a few weeks ago,” you point out, finger jabbing him in the ribs. He hisses, cupping his pec. “Getting a puppy is code for throwing in the towel.”

“Ozz is the cutest puppy, I’ll have you know. Look—” He waves to Gareth as he passes by, drumsticks twirling in his hands. “Delete the apps. Take a break. Isn’t there some quote about happiness? That Nathaniel Hawthorne one. You know, the ‘happiness is a butterfly’ one you used in a paper back in school.”

“One, I can’t believe you remember that.”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought of your teenage years. Of you with braces and he himself being the first person to welcome you to sit with him on your first day of school, snapping at Jason Carver when he’d brushed by you and thumped your shoulder a little too hard for his liking.

“And two, the quote is actually ‘happiness is like a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp. But, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.’”

“So stop chasing it. Just let it happen. C'est la vie. Carpe diem. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You don’t even bother letting him know none of those things mean what he thinks they do.

“Eddie.”

He loops his arm around your neck. Presses a kiss against your temple. You lean into his embrace, comfortable warmth that seeps into your bones and floods you with familiarity.

He’s hard lines against your softer edges. Inky tapestries of collected memories that tell a tale of his adventurous life on the forearm tangled in your hair. His ring-clad fingers delight in toying with the tips, hair shifting between digits like water.

Calming and soothing Eddie. A constant in your life since you were teenagers, now going on ten years of friendship later. Someone you’ve always been able to turn to at the end of the day; someone who never once questions your motives, even if he might suggest you try different methods to your lifestyle habits.

And now, your dating habits.

“I’m just saying it’s worth a try.”

Maybe you don’t stop right away. Maybe it takes a date with Joe, Jim and Jessica to realize the truth of Eddie’s words. Maybe there’s some weight to pushing it all aside, stepping out of the way of your own preconceived timeline, and allowing someone to walk in at the right place and time.

And on a night such as this, where Corroded Coffin are getting set up on stage and citizens are packing out the bar to see the increasingly popular band play, it’s easy to remember why swiping on your phone has brought you here. To asshole Andy Lerman standing before you while you work. Basketball coach at Hawkins High and douchebag royalty from what you remember of him back in your years of teenage angst and adolescence.

He’s had a few drinks now. You know because you’ve served him. But all they’ve done is instill courage in him to step over to the girl who people teased in school for being a “freak fucker” by merely being associated with Eddie, claiming time ‘really did wonders for you.’

He’s staring at your tits when he says it, and it takes everything in you to not toss his next drink in his face. But in a town where money is hard to come by, and there’s not much to do by way of work, bartending pays the bills, and you’re not about to mess up one of the few good gigs left.

“Andy, it’s really not going to work,” you tell him, “but here. Your last one of the night…on me.”

With a quick pat to his shoulder, you send him on his merry way with a fuller pocket and a story to warp when regaling his friends with the time he pity-invited the “freak fucker” on a date.

“Don’t look now, my lady, but Eddie Munson is staring at you,” Argyle says, working on mixing a margarita beside you for a patron.

“He’s not staring at me,” you retort, sliding a vodka soda across the bar, thanking your customer for the hefty tip they toss your way. At Argyle’s raised brow, you reiterate, “he’s not.”

“He’s always staring. That’s the look Eden gives me. You know, the look of someone in l—”

Argyle’s words are cut short as Eddie appears on the other side of the bar, bare elbows pressing against the counter, hair falling out of his ponytail, bangs long overdue for a cut shifting every time he blinks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, thanking Argyle as he passes him the beer he knows he prefers. At your arching brow, he continues, “I saw Andy Lerman flirting with you. You looked uncomfortable.”

You snort, getting to work on a moscow mule. “That’s because I was uncomfortable. But I took care of it. I appreciate you always looking out, though.”

He reaches over and grabs your chin. Gives your head a little wiggle until you’re grinning against his palm. Then reaches his fingers over toward you, rests them so gently against your curled palm resting on the bar and pauses. He waits a moment and closes his ringed fingers into a fist, knocking his knuckles against yours.

Then he’s off toward the stage to get ready, leaving you with a knot in your throat and warmth prickling against your skin.

Argyle passes you a knowing smile and before you can yell at him to get back to work, embarrassment roiling in your chest, he announces he’s going to take a quick break and call his wife.

His words spin in your head once more. Comparing Eddie’s gazes to Eden’s. To the nature of the depth in which he cares for you. But you shake your head free of it.

You’ve been unlucky in love.

It couldn’t be so simple.

Argyle’s words don’t change much in regards to your Eddie conundrum.

They’re a phantom in the back of your mind. Wispy tendrils of a memory that feels distant now.

Weeks pass, and the warm heat of summer in Hawkins turns to a sweltering hell on earth.

The Hideout becomes quieter most evenings. Those with air conditioning prefer to stay home, remain by their pools, to host gatherings where alcohol and coolers are plentiful.

And you don’t blame them, letting out a long huff as you wipe down the counter, while Argyle counts your tips.

“Oh, how was that date with…Paul, was it?” He muses thoughtfully, beginning to split the money.

“Not great.”

“You said that about the last three. What was wrong with this one?”

And that’s the thing. You sit across from these people, trying to force a square into a circle, trying to sparse out the qualities that they’re lacking.

Not funny enough. Not the right hair color. They lack that unruly smile. That glimmer of brightness in their amber eyes. There’s no dimple in Paul’s cheek. No banter on your date with Jeremiah. Caleb doesn’t like metal, and Kayla thinks D&D is a breeding ground for satanism (you’d thought that one was left in the 80s, but it appears not).

“He said Dio was overrated.”

“Interesting,” Argyle laughs, shaking his head.

You whirl around, damp bar towel flicking water his way. “What’s so interesting?”

“Just funny when two people are so obviously similar and don’t even see it,” he says, humming to himself, conversation over.

And that was that.

It’s funny, you think, that it only hits you then.

Like the flutter of butterfly wings on your flowerbeds you’d managed to stumble upon earlier that morning, the flicker of wings on a bird in the sky. The soft beating of both, like the constant thump of a heart in a chest.

A constant.

It’s the word everything hitches on as you sit on that work table in your garage, watching the man who stopped everything he was doing when you’d called earlier at the drop of a hat. All just to make sure you were okay.

That same person who is now up to his elbows in grease, fingers stained an oily black. With his hair pulled away from his face, you catch the determined line of his mouth, the jut of his tongue pushing lightly against pink lips. The corded lines of his arms move as he works, barest hint of stomach on display when he reaches up to slam the hood of your car down once it’s finished.

You toss him a towel, grinning at the shadowy form of him blocking the sun from your eyes. “Sorry you’re doing this instead of the movies.”

“Stop that. You know I’m happy to spend any time with you, sweetheart,” he laughs, wiping the planes of his face that are streaked like the fingers pressing against terry cloth to keep it in place. “Fixed the alternator and did an oil change. Seeing as you always forget anyway.”

He walks over slowly, grunting when your sandaled foot kicks him playfully in the kneecap. “That was why my car made that awful sound and shut off?”

“Exactly.” He curls the towel around his neck. “Day is still young. How about we—”

“Why’d you delete all your dating apps?”

The words fall from you in a rush. A swift exhale that has Eddie’s back drawn ramrod straight. Rigid, but not with anger. Instead, you watch that full mouth part just slightly. Like the words he had been about to say were lost to the wind, left to titter away into nothingness.

He swallows audibly, palm sliding over the towel across his neck. “I…just didn’t see the point in them.”

Determination hardens your resolve. Brings to attention Argyle’s teasing these weeks. The wondering, questioning, burgeoning curiosities brimming. So you utter a simple, “Why?” and try your damndest to ignore the nerves welling up in your chest at the fear of what comes next.

“Just kind of felt like I was using them to get over someone else,” he admits, taking a step closer.

Your bare knees brush the tops of his thighs. Warmth seeps into your skin, bristles at his touch.

Dark eyes drag along your form. Along the dress you wore that evening, covered in flowers, a thin thing that would have fluttered in the wind if you and Eddie had been able to do what you’d planned for the day. Simple drive to the lake to eat some lunch, share a joint and fish (a new hobby he'd picked up from his uncle), then movies at the theater when the sun had set.

You meet his stare. Remind yourself of those eyes that had been on you the whole time Andy had leaned over the bar just weeks ago. Ready at any moment to come to your aid, should you have needed it. He’s never pushed you, never crossed the boundaries of your friendship, trusted you knew best.

But he’d always been there if you ever needed a hand.

You only ever needed to reach out.

Always.

You swallow thickly. “Who?”

“Don’t make me tell you what you already know.”

It’s quiet. A plea for pity that has your heart clenching within your chest.

But it’s not scary.

It’s not frightening at all.

Dozens of memories flash behind your eyes.

Of teenage years, laughing in the cafeteria, trading snacks, sneaking off to the woods between classes to smoke. Of you in community college, and his van screeching through the parking lot to take you to lunch between classes. Of nights at his place, your place, the movies, around town. Of ice cream at Lover’s Lake with his van doors swung wide, trying to make out the shapes of the clouds in the sky.

Birthday parties, milestones, weddings, grieved losses.

To highs and lows and everything in between. To all those shitty dates, to his own failed dating escapades. To that time you had to ice his lip in the back of the Hideout when Jeff had accidentally elbowed him in the face, or when you’d fallen off Max’s skateboard and ripped open your shin and he’d had to hold your hand while he disinfected it.

To this very moment, where he’s just finished fixing your car. To him with his dirty palm tapping lightly against your kneecap, feet shifting awkwardly beneath him.

Your head tips up and you catch the downturn of his lips, frozen in time by your prolonged silence.

Argyle was right.

“What?”

You hadn’t realized you spoke out loud, but confusion swirls behind Eddie’s gaze all the same, mollified only when your hand snakes up around the back of his neck and drags him downward to your level. Only when you pour your affection into him where you’re finally, lovingly, connected at last.

The fullness of his mouth against the softness of yours is hesitant at first, like his brain needs a moment to catch up to his current reality, before he’s tipping your head up with his hand. Until his fingers slide across your cheek, cupping you gently, easing you closer to him.

Before long he’s gripping you closer. Deft fingers in the dough of your thighs, tugging you flush against him, skirt indecently high up on your hips. But you don’t care. Not as your ankles lock around his waist, nor as he hums into your throat while he leaves a sloven path along your skin, learning the sounds you make when he’s tender, sweet—when he scores his teeth against your pulse point and you melt like putty beneath his devotion filled fingertips.

Ten years. Ten years of watching that silly butterfly float away into the sky, only for it to have been there all along.

Only for it to have been the man with his forehead against yours, noses flush together, your fingers beneath his shirt and his around the bend of your kneecaps.

You’re not sure where you start and he ends, but even that incites a new thrill, a new world to explore further. A desire to know the depths of him beyond the limit of friendship.

“Argyle got to you too, huh?” At your nod, Eddie barks out a laugh. Kisses you softly. “Fuckin’ guy thinks he’s Cupid or something.”

“I don’t want to talk about Argyle right now.”

Eddie’s lips curl into a grin. The whites of his teeth flash in your gaze, your fingers trailing along his stubble-lined jaw.

“I don’t either.” His thumb comes to swipe at your cheek, dimple in his cheek twitching slightly. “Got you a little greasy. Just…ten years, you know? Got a little carried away.”

You nod, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. He watches as you hop down from the work table, brow arching curiously as you tug him toward the door leading into your home. “Well, like you said, we’ve got ten years to catch up on. So before I kiss you more, Edward Munson, we’re going to shower.”

“We?” He swallows, voice hoarse. “Like a two people conserving water shower?”

You enter the small laundry room, humming as his chest brushes your own, his weight just enough against yours to press you into the lip of your drying machine. Cool metal chills your skin at the open back of your dress, balanced by the heat of the knee that slides between your thighs to pin you in place. Your body both buzzes with life and oozes honey into your system as you melt into him, pliant under that smoldering dark gaze of your best friend in front of you.

“We,” you nod, grinning into his kiss. “After that we’re cuddling on the couch and ordering a pizza.”

“And tomorrow…I’m taking you on a date.”

🦋

#two fools in love #god all your descriptions of him in this had my brain 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#luna 🌙#fic recs 💗

360 notes · View notes

ruporas · 2 years ago

Photo

endless love!

[ID Two drawing collage pages of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. In the first collage, top corner, Wolfwood looks upwards disgruntled with a flushed expression, lying against a pillow, as his hair is being pet by Vash's hand. Next shows Vash and Wolfwood from behind, Wolfwood with his top bare and hickies covers around his nape area. Vash lifts hair away from his nape and asks, "More?" Wolfwood nervously says, "No." Next is a side profile of Vash, his arms around Wolfwood from behind while Wolfwood rests his hands against Vash's arms. Next to this are two smaller drawings; Vash turns to Wolfwood and says repetitively, "Wolfwood, Wolfwood..." Wolfwood, not looking at him, says "What?" He finally turns his head and looks shocked as he exclaims, "So close!" Vash says plainly, "You just noticed?" Below these is a drawing of Vash and Wolfwood sitting together as Vash kisses and hugs him from behind with his right arm around Wolfwood's neck and his left hand around his side. He also has his right leg propped against Wolfwood's knee. Bottom of the page has a comic. Wolfwood looks annoyed, speaking to himself, "Where is that idiot?! Need to get out of town before--" A chat bubble exclaims, "Wolfwood!" The next panel shows Vash running from the townspeople, small text saying "Get him! Vash the stampede!". Wolfwood, mad and about to pull the Punisher off his shoulder, says, "Argh, you fucking dumbass!" Vash exclaims, "Ah, don't!" before pulling Wolfwood into a quick kiss. He then tugs on Wolfwood's collar and says, "There's no need to shoot, just run!" Wolfwood stammers, "R-right..." with a flushed, dumbstruck expression.

Second collage; Top left, Wolfwood spoons Vash in bed, his arms around his chest and the other beneath Vash's head. Vash has his hand on top of Wolfwood's as he sleeps while Wolfwood lies awake. Behind this drawing is faint sketches of Vash's face. In a small panel, Wolfwood hides in Vash's neck as he mumbles to himself "Stop. Stop thinking embarrassing things, Wolfwood..." Beneath this drawing is another of them in bed, Vash now turned to Wolfwood and a hand on his cheek as he kisses him good morning. In a simpler style, Vash wraps an arm tightly around wolfwood with the text "snork mimimi" next to him while Wolfwood says, "We need to get up. Spikey! HEY!" In this corner, there are faint sketches of Vash and Wolfwood; one of them looking at each other; Vash kissing Wolfwood's forehead; Wolfwood saying, "Hand" with an outstretch hand and Vash says "ok" behind a drawing of them holding hands, both turned away from each other shyly. Next is a 4 panel comic. First shows Wolfwood's face getting squished by Vash's hands with the text "squish" around his face. Next, his cheeks are stretched with the text "Chee--" Wolfwood then hits Vash's face with his palm, exclaimining "That hurts!" The last shows Vash on Wolfwood's lap, smiling to himself as he continues to have Wolfwood's face in his hands. Next to this is another comic; A close up of their hands, Vash holding Wolfwood's with both of his. He then kisses the palm of Wolfwood's palm and says, "They're soft!" Wolfwood looks at him with flushed cheeks, "There's no way that's true..." END ID]

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #just posting first for now!!! wanted to have these two spreads together grah #ive been weirdly selective when it comes to posting on tumblr but i really need to start dropping everything from twitter/insta onto here...#anyway what is there to say... i like to just draw them being in love and silly. there are so many flavors to vw #and i so happened to really enjoy the intimate sickeningly affectionate aspect of it... lays down...#give these two touch and loved starved selfless individuals the chance to pour their entire being into loving the other....#thoguh in particular i drew these both for wolfwood wednesday (which is everyday to me) so theyre wolfwood centric #i think for some time i was just seeing a lot of work of vash being loved by wolfwood and obviously that makes sense #ww loves that fool so much and will love him two times as much for the love vash refuses to give himself #but i also love wolfwood and desperately needed to see wolfwood being loved so i drew it #bc it goes both ways... i def believe that ww would be adamant about giving affection to vash at first bc vash would hesitate asking #but once he gets comfortable vash's love pours and he'd noticed too that ww avoids getting spoiled affectionately bc of his own issues #vash is. stubborn to me. more so than wolfwood. he will destroy him with love!!!!!!!!!!!#and wolfwood will adjust and get used to it. being loved. loving. steadily but slowly as his days are filled with soft touches and reminders #that he's being handled gently and with care for the first time in a long time #ruporas art

4K notes · View notes