#holy shit this was long

[valsnonsense]

Floyd: I'm so lucky you came into my life...

Creek: Heh... I'm the one who's lucky..

Floyd: I love you so much, Raindrop...

Creek: I love you too, Sugar Plum

Today I come out as a soft Fleek enjoyer. I love psycho Creek and toxic yaoi fleek as much as the next fella, but soft, healing Fleek is the true owner if my heart.

(Don't worry Creek is still kind of a cunt, I won't take that away from him. Mans an asshole)

Personal headcanons alert!!! (This image falls into my Depths AU, hence Creek's lack of an arm)

TW: Mentions of drug abuse and alcoholism/self destructive actions

Creek sold out his entire people to save his own skin. Why did he do it? There's really only one reason. Guy was scared. Terrified. He was staring death in the face. In the literal jaws of a creature that would devour him without second thought. And fear makes us do stupid things. Things we regret. Things we can NEVER take back.

Creek is genuinely remorseful about his actions. When he winds up alone, fighting for his life every day, he feels he deserves it. He deserves to be alone. To die alone. He may have saved his own life in that moment. But he doomed himself to a life of solitude.

Until Floyd came into his life.

Now Floyd has made his own handful of mistakes. I personally love the headcanon that Floyd feel into some BAD habits during his solo career. I'm talking party drugs, drinking, ext. Mans a party animal, or at least he was. Until it got his ass hundreds in debt, mooching off any who'd take pity on him, then eventually captured.

I like to think that all the brothers did at one point try and go back home, only to find Branch gone and the tree in ruin. Like JD, Floyd though Branch was dead. He thought all of them were dead. So what did he do? He drowned himself in music, drugs, and alcohol. He failed his baby brother. The one promise he made, he failed to fufill. He destroyed himself every day after that. It was a punishment in a way.

Creek and Floyd are both broken, lost souls, riddled with guilt over past actions and failed promises. They understand one another on a level no one else can.

Floyd helps Creek reconnect with others and works to him redeeming himself in the eyes of the Trolls. And in return, Creek helps Floyd manage his PTSD, anxieties, and chronic pain

Now since the whole "spiritual/namaste" thing is actually INCREDIBLY insensitive to various east Asian cultures, I headcanon that Creek was the village physical therapist, chiropractor, physiotherapist, acupuncturist, basically a doctor who helped Trolls manage chronic pain, injuries, ext.

He did teach yoga classes, but mainly as a hobby, and to help Trolls practice body positivity.

These two lead a quiet life following all that happened to them. Guys are tired af and need a nap

I love these two as a sweeter couple. Floyd thinks Creek is stupid af but he loves him for it.

Okay imma shut up now this got LONG-

[yumedoca]

On today’s episode of ‘Yuca Analyzes Silly Things (For No Reason)’, I will be talking about Ataru and how he views his love for Lum.

Ataru’s relationship with Lum is complicated, he loves her but he doesn’t want to act like a couple with her, much to Lum’s disappointment. To answer why this is the case, we’ll have to first look at how he initially viewed Lum.

Ataru’s first impression of Lum was that of a sexy alien princess and was instantly drooling over her when he saw her. But later on, him being unable to catch Lum’s horns has caused him to feel annoyance towards her since everyone kept blaming him for failing. This annoyance grew into hatred when she answered his “marriage proposal” causing Shinobu to break up with him (they do resolve the tension by chapter 2, but Lum returning in chapter 3 made things worse for them). Ever since then Ataru has hated Lum, constantly asking her to get out, saying he doesn’t love her, admitting she’s a nuisance, taking away her powers and feeling no guilt for that, etc. But from Kurama’s introduction, we learn that he does love her the most… just like every other woman. The first thing we can tell for sure Ataru’s ‘Love (The romantic kind)’ can be divided into two categories, Lust and True Love. Even tho his eyes did wander from woman to woman, What he initially felt for Shinobu was a milder version of his True Love, he protected her from the imp demon after all and stopped Lum from trying to kill her off. But, once Lum slowly starts taking over his life, he realizes that he can’t be with Shinobu anymore and the desperation to be with her turned his mild true love into lust (as of chapter 10, which is the first time he acts like a proper pervert around Shinobu as well as put her in the same place as Lum). So from Oyuki’s introduction,his love for every woman was basically lust… up until the Otoko Kumino chapter.

The Otoko Kumino chapter is a great chapter and personally my favorite Lum chapter, because it’s the first time we see her genuinely care about Ataru. This isn’t something just the readers can see, but it’s something obvious to Ataru as well because for the first time in his life, something she has done for him doesn’t end up backfiring on him, but instead actually saves him, which has him thinking that Lum might not be so bad after all (or in his words “Is it just me, or was Lum always this cute?”). After that he holds hands and walks with her which is basically an open act of love which is something Ataru doesn’t like to willingly do, so we can conclude that he hasn’t realized that he’s falling for her, yet. He only realizes that he genuinely loves her in the chapter where she leaves him to renew her passport causing him to breakdown or to be specific in the scene where she’s back and when Ataru couldn’t help but start smiling, but immediately turns his face away from her in realization that he loves her, but she shouldn’t know or else he’ll have to be committed to her which isn’t something he can do easily (habits are difficult to break after all). And from there their relationship starts growing.

Now why does he love her? At first it was because he was touched about her act of kindness of helping him as Otoko Kumino, but by the time she leaves him in “Since Your Parting”, it’s very much alluded in the first scene in the classroom (the remake plays this up with the extra scenes with Ataru’s family and stuff) that it’s because she’s genuinely loves him despite his flaws and even if he does stupid things, she chooses to still stays with him and by his side no matter what, which is something no woman has ever done for him (Shinobu did to an extent as well but she eventually ended up breaking up with him once she realized that he wasn’t the man of her destiny). (Also, I want to point out that this reasoning was also kind of said out loud by Ataru in the ‘Only You’ movie which is surprising considering the OG anime wasn’t really strong in character writing.)

Now if he does love her, then why doesn’t he agree to do couple stuff (here I mean stuff like kissing, flirting, saying “I love you”, etc.) with her? That’s because he does all those things with other woman to the point they have lost that specialness. It may still be special to her, but not to him because Lum isn’t any woman, he’s the only one he actually cares about and he doesn’t want to give her the same treatment he gives other women. Not only that, he’s also quite respectful to Lum in that sense, like with unlike other woman, he makes sure he has her consent if he wants to take things up a notch. This can be noted in the chapter where they were alone at home and he thinks she wanted to have sex with him, he was reluctant at first, but eventually agrees, although quite embarrassed (it has to be noted that he wasn’t embarrassed when he was with Kurama and Oyuki [even tho nothing happened], showing how differently he feels about her) and of course, in the end nothing happens. But it’s nice to see that Ataru has a gentleman attitude towards Lum (even if he doesn’t listen to her).

Of course as time goes on he realizes he can’t hide his love for her forever, especially when he’s put in difficult situations. He does try giving ambiguous answers midway through his relationship with her and by the time of the ‘BOY meets GIRL’, he’s able to say how he actually feels, just indirectly. Speaking of ‘BOY meets GIRL’, let’s talk about that arc.

Ataru’s romantic conflict in this arc is trying to figure out and understand Lum and to make sure she understands him as well. Lum is pretty straightforward in her thoughts and actions, but for the first time she gets paranoid, because of the whole mushroom clone misunderstanding. From Ataru’s POV, she (actually the mushroom clone) wanted to stay with Rupa, not him, which hurts him. The next time he sees her, she’s (the real one) with him and wants his help, which confuses him and that confusion causes him to decline, hurting Lum, making her wonder whether he actually loves her or not. That causes the finale’s game of tag in which Lum want’s to hear him say “I love you”. I have previously explained why he won’t say it, but if he doesn’t say it, he’ll forget her. He wants her to understand that he does love her, but he doesn’t want it to be like this because if he says it in this situation, she’ll never know if it’s the truth or not. This doesn’t mean much to Lum (for the time being), but it means a lot to Ataru, because to him, his love for her means a lot more than just some stupid, forced confession. He doesn’t want to forget her either, since he holds on to horns believing if he does, he wouldn’t have to forget her, which she eventually realizes when he yells “How could I ever forget?!” and then accidentally dropping her horns confirming his feelings. The final scene and his final dialogue shows him no longer denying his love or giving ambiguous answers, but instead promising to eventually say “I love you” on his deathbed. I like to personally believe that their relationship even though still chaotic, is a lot smoother and that they understand each other better after those events.

Thank you for taking some time to read this analysis ♥️. I still have tons of things I want to talk about this boy, but I’ll save it for another time. I also want to eventually do a relationship analysis for Lum as well, but I’ll save that for another time as well. Hope you have nice day! X3

[wild-houseplant]

Hello Plant, lovely friend ^^ I am a-coming with questions. Oh would I have loved just putting the whole post into your asks but that would be unfair to everybody else who wants to ask questions and maybe also be a tad bit overwhelming. So I've made a selection. Feel free to pick the ones that tickle your fancy the most and ignore the rest ^^

3. What architectural or design aesthetic would best suit them?

7. If your OC could meet any historical or past figure, whether in the real world or in their own canon lore, who would it be and why?

13. Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Yes she is Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them? (Also if I may make an add-on which language are reserved for which occasions? What's the socializing language? The academic language? The work language? Does she learn Antivan?)

23. What sort of routines, rituals or rules do they have or set for themselves? (What is her procedure to make herself comfortable after a long day of work? Bold question, may be a tad bit personal, if so please ignore)

I hope you're having an amazing day!!!!

Henlo my excellent friend :3 Thank you for sending the lush asks! I will answer them ALLLLLLL 8D

Under the cut, because like Aurelio and Revka, I am incapable of keeping it concise.

Okay, so 3 (what architectural or design aesthetic would best suit them?). I'll be the first to admit I'm not au fait with the industry terms. What I can say, though, with regard to general preferences:

Most important thing for Rhodri is that stuff is clean and in reasonably good repair. With the exception of hairline cracks in the buildings, which any Tevinter will assure you adds character, broken tiles and the like should be replaced. Also important is to make the place look both imposing to outsiders, but welcoming to familiar people.

Some clutter indoors, especially books, is encouraged, but only on table surfaces (never on the floor, as Tevinters consider it dirty, no matter how many times you mop it).

I've always seen Tevinter as a place that has a lot of sandstone and marble, so I figure plenty of the buildings are made out of those two things. Especially the upper-crust villas like what Rhodri grew up in.

In terms of decorations, better with trees and gardens rather than fancy statues. The symbol of Tevinter can either be carved into the sandstone, or in a banner hanging at the front of the villa.

High ceilings, please, and an atrium indoors, as it's hot as buggery year round in Minrathous. Make it nice and light, too. It's a beautiful, sunny city.

A couple of pictures below if that helps (links embedded in the pics):

close to ideal house. God help me for using minecraft. Make the land flat and stick a gazebo out the back for watching the afternoon thunderstorm, and that's a wrap.

Someone made a Tevinter-inspired courtyard, though I would just make this their atrium. MeggieRock took a whole bunch more pictures; I just chose the one I liked best. They're all amazing, though. I'm not quite sure if that's what the question was asking or not. Was I close? haha :D lmk if not!!

Number 7 (If your OC could meet any historical or past figure, whether in the real world or in their own canon lore, who would it be and why?)

Oh, easy choice. Zevran's mother, hands down. Naturally, if she could plan it out, she'd take Zevran so he could meet her, but if that wasn't allowed, she'd take a list of questions and information to pass on to her mother-in-law on Zevran's behalf.

One thing I never really thought of until now is that it would have been quite a thing at the wedding to see the Imperial Chantry packed to the rafters with Rhod's family and friends and friends of the family and and and... But then not a soul from Zevran's side. People would've been astonished. Northerners have huge networks, and Zevran comes empty-handed to his own nuptials? It's sad, honestly. Especially because even though Tevinters don't marry for love as a rule, the marriage does signify two households becoming much more linked. Really, you don't just marry one person, you marry the whole family.

On the plus side, Zevran has a whole new gaggle of people who love him to bits, so it's very much a net win. Even so, Rhodri was looking forward to the whole +1 family add-on with whomever her father was going to set her up with. So the chance to say g’day to her mother-in-law would be something she’d be absolutely jonesing for.

Assuming Zevran isn't allowed to join in on this, meeting Zevran's mother would be a very emotional event, I think, for Rhodri and her mother-in-law both. Not least because this poor Dalish woman realises her only child has gone and gotten hitched with a Tevinter Magister, oh my GOD. I dunno, though, I think Rhodri's candour and very plain affection for her son (she practically sings odes about him as it is) would reassure her. She'd probably be heartbroken to hear Zevran went through what he did with the Crows. I’m sure she’d be very proud of him too, though, especially as Rhodri waxes lyrical about his heroism and kind heart during the Blight (and every other point in time, honestly) .

And yanno, marrying into fabulous wealth with a spouse who's willing to do anything for him, well. It's a turn-up for the books after Crow living. This lady would probably be content enough to let Rhodri go (only after ALL her questions are answered) with some ominous warning about haunting the shit out of her if she breaks Zevran's heart. Fair enough, honestly. What loving mother could do more?

13. Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Yes she is Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them? (Also if I may make an add-on which language are reserved for which occasions? What's the socializing language? The academic language? The work language? Does she learn Antivan?)

Ooh. Ooh ok. Let's see. I can't say Rhodri dislikes Common, because it's her mother's native language (though Revka does speak Tevene) and her mother is a SAINT, damn it! BUT Rhod's far more Tevinter than Kirkwaller, culturally speaking, and does have a heavy preference for Tevene.

The trouble with Common, as any proud Northerner will tell you, is that it's not so much a cultural language these days, but rather a trade tongue. A lingua franca, at most. Those poor bloody Fereldans and Marchers, Maker help them, lost their cultural language and can only speak Common now. Where are the culturally-specific words for certain moods, circumstances, weather phenomena, celebrations? Where's the language made by the first of their people to live there, that ties them to their homes and families?

She uses Common when she needs to. Everyone does. If anyone with her doesn't speak Tevene, or doesn't feel proficient enough, she'll speak Common, as basic courtesy dictates. With Kirkwaller family, though, she uses it more joyfully. Especially when she gets a chance to whip out the dreadful sandblaster Kirkwaller accent and horrify everyone but her mother, who was the one to teach it to her.

(HC if needed: I have assigned various accents and dialects of the English-speaking diaspora to the Marcher nations and beyond, as I'm sick of RP everywhere. Kirkwallers speak Australian English; Starkhaveners have the most gorgeous Glaswegian (feel free to picture Sebastian Vael screaming "Whae fuckin widnae! Eh? Think ah fuckin widnae? Ya fuckin radge!" when challenged to a fight). And those splendid people in Tantervale delight us all with the linguistic beauty of Belfast!)

For all other matters, she speaks Tevene. I'd say she's evenly bilingual having grown up speaking both, but Tevene, which is much more expressive and emotional, communicates her and her inner workings best. Lots of Tevene doesn't translate well into Common, and she forever bemoans that, because it makes it much harder to get her message across. The pain of having to explain 'te amo plenissime' while Zevran's still learning, oh god. She thinks and dreams in Tevene. Any poetry or important, heartfelt things she writes-- Tevene (except to her mother, of course). Magical research is more easily written in Tevene- Circle mages across Thedas use a lot of Tevene loanwords for magical things because of course, magic was suppressed outside of the Imperium.

She does learn Antivan though! Luckily, the two countries have very similar linguistic roots-- in fact, my HC here is that Antivan developed from Tevene, and they haven't diverged too much yet. I'd say it'd be like being a German speaker learning Dutch. The trick is keeping your own first language out of your target language's turn of phrase. Zevran and Rhodri both pick up each other's language without too much trouble once they're living under the same roof again after Awakening.

23 What sort of routines, rituals or rules do they have or set for themselves? (What is her procedure to make herself comfortable after a long day of work? Bold question, may be a tad bit personal, if so please ignore)

Rhodri, who has been watching me type all this for her, has asked me to pass on that, 'iucundis can ask me anything at all, and we will not be ignoring this question,' so there you have it!

I don't think there's anything very specific to the busier days that would feature, to be honest. Her schedule is embedded with the things needed to keep her comfortable. When she was a little sprout and had come home from a long day, she was often fairly tense, especially if she'd gotten dirty. Her folks found that the best solution was to drop her in the bath and read to her, and then give her dinner. Most problems can be fixed by getting clean and having a good meal, really.

Even now, bath and food works wonders. Bathing with company or without, she doesn't mind. (Ironically enough, given its fussiness about modesty, Tevinter has a big bathhouse culture, and friends and family love a day out together at the spa/baths.)

That aside, if she's tired or stressed, it's more painful as a rule to deviate from the schedule, so if she has things that need to be done, she's found that it's better to half-arse them to get to bath/food/bed quicker. Dealing with the fallout is Tomorrow Rhodri's problem. My little rebel. <3

[askmsideblog]

look around to make sure no ones there, and then run ig? whatever gets you out

ASK 32: IRꙮN OLEANDER ✧˖*°࿐

I'm in the living room now, and I could've sworn I- "Awh, Did I not tie you down well enough?" "That's a shame." I whirl around instinctively. I feel my blood run cold. Twisted stands in the doorway, he smiles at me. "I could've sworn I did a better job." "I was in a hurry, M! You're way more resilient than your supposed to be." He holds a metal rod in his left hand. I jolt backwards when he holds it up. "When I found out you came back, I couldn't help but make sure you stayed! It gets so lonely without you, and you're such a big help with... everything, my little Alexandrite." Twisted reaches for my head with this open hand. He rustles my hair. I let him. "Did you not miss me? Come on, wipe that look of shock off your face." I hold the knife—his knife—in my right hand. I shake the shellshock out of me before I push him away. "AUGH- YOU-" Twisted grunts before swinging at my side. He hits me and I stumble into a bookcase. I grab a book from it, throwing it at him. I scramble too my feet, holding the knife out in-front of me. Twisted dodges the book, running towards me, swinging at my skull. I dodge, in the process knocking over the bookcase as all of the stuff in it flies out with me in tandem. I grab a few more books and start hurling them at Twisted as I try to sit up. I knock off his opal brooch, and it falls onto my bag. I whirl around, forcing it into a pocket, as I slice a deep gash into the flesh of Twisted's ankle. He stumbles, leaning on a nearby wall. His blood gets everywhere the floor and on me. It leaks into my bag and stains my notebook. "YOU DUMB☆SS B☆TCH!" Twisted hisses in pain as I get up onto my feet. I have a clear shot of his throat. I run past him, slicing a cut into his throat as gain enough momentum to slam myself into the door, forcing the old, decaying wood open and making a mad dash into the night's rain. I can't bring myself to kill him. Why can't I bring myself to kill him? I collapse into the wet grass after what felt like hours of running. I curl into myself, crying my eyes out in silent, crimson agony. I couldn't bring myself to kill him. I should be ashamed. And nothing burns the soul quite as bitterly as shame.

[charliejaneanders]

The United States has always been a terrible place to be sick and disabled. Ableism is baked into our myths of bootstrapping and self-reliance, in which health is virtue and illness is degeneracy. It is long past time for a bedrock shift, for all of us.

Long covid has derailed my life. Make no mistake: It could yours, too.

[egophiliac]

we were fucking ROBBED

[nova-rpv]

a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[paimt]

its just supervised phone calls like

in the wise words of stan himself: give me money

[layviyu]

OKAY SIR???? I SEE YOU'RE SERVING CUNT TODAY

[waltricia]

3x03 — Forces of Nature

[vampireonthestairs]

WAHHOOOOOO HI MALADICT HIIII!!!

[bullmotif]

Revolutionary Girl Utena, episode 12

[putterphubase]

You said I can ask you if there's anything I don't understand, right? Then please teach me. How to kiss.

THE TIME OF FEVER (2024).

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

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