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[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

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[theghoulboysblog]

trick or treat!! 👻

here’s every shane and ryan hug that exists to this day! :) have a great october 🧡🤭

[bannock-freak]

"shipping saiki is aphobic because he's aroace!"

stares at you with my demiromantic asexual in a committed relationship eyes then looks at the camera like im in the office

[jensonsbuttons]

i'm a grown ass man child

[itsamenickname]

The perfect family 💚🧡💛💚🧡💛

[gyxtar0luvs]

Hello @quilteddreamz! I am your secret skeleton and here is my gift you you of mad hatter sun!

(ref and unedited ver below the cut!:])

[light-wrath-paradise]

Animorphs Book club book 8

My reaction can be summarised as this (yet again):

I don't have many thoughts because uh. That was depressing as hell and I need to stare at a wall.

But I DO gotta say that the subplot with the dead "wife" was so telenovela-esque that for a good minute it was more funny than depressing. Then it got depressing. But it was so jarring and so far out of the left field that for a good second my friend and I had to pause the audiobook and laugh because ????????? Unhinged to just appear, go "I am Eslin, I have a G U N. My secret wife was killed. By my boss. Now I yearn for sweet sweet revenge." and not elaborate. Like. Damn dude ok. Sorry about our wife also. Fucking killed me that he continued like "So anyway I reacted adequately by killing all of my boss' friends. Starvation style." Like ???? Jjhsgdjsdfghsjdfh what????? I mean damn I do respect the grind set but also that's such an absurd escalation out of context. Did your boss kill your wife? Kill all of his friends! And in context the most absurd part is probably the notion that Visser 3 has friends??????? Like??? Wait no Eslin. Eslin wait. I love your John Wick-esque "fridged wife" trope swag but you need to slow down. I need details. I need you to tell me HOW your boss even has friends.

In my heart I do not believe we will see that madman ever again but on god I do wish for an insane telenovela-esque sequence of him just showing up at the most random moment to do exactly one thing and that's to pull a gun on Visser 3. For no reason, I just think it would be kinda funny. Like,,,did your boss kill your wife?:

Kill all of his friends

Acquire a G U N

Attempt to make the local Andalite youth assassinate your boss for you

Pull the gun on your boss

???????

Profit (probably die)

Aside from that, I also need to say that the moment when Ax called Tobias his close friend at the end was so sweet. Also ngl kinda...concerning/harrowing how much Tobias really doesn't give a shit about not being a human. Like it doesn't seem so concerning from other points of view but the way Ax gets increasingly weirded out by Tobias not asking him about the nothlit (idk if I'm spelling that right rn) really reminds you that it IS kinda worrying. Like I get it, I mean...Tobias has no family that cares about him, he has no friends outside of the Animorphs friend group, why would he care? But it's still kinda...yeah.

Also unimaginably surprised by the amount of collective guilt present in the Andalite society. You'd think they're Catholic or something the way they keep beating themselves up and force everyone to also beat themselves up and their system itself is saturated with the guilt and shame and they teach it to kids at school from an early age. Like. Jesus Christ calm down. Stop that. As the Animorphs said at the end of the book - the Andalites made an oopsie once. It sucked, yes, it continues to have consequences that suck, yes, but it happens. Sometimes you think you're doing something kind and it turns into a disaster. That does not mean you should beat yourself up for it or, god forbid, tell other people that they should not be kind lest they make a mistake. Damn I guess we should all be cold assholes forever, huh? I'm sure that can't have any negative consequences.

Andalite society in general seems kinda unhinged. Like...do I get why it is like that? Yeah. But do I find it unhinged? Also yeah. Like ok duty and the collective being the most important things is totally sensible for a prey animal. Safety of the herd and all that. But it's still kinda unhinged that they do make everyone have duty as their number 1 priority and that they have rituals devoted to it. Not all rituals are spiritual or religious in nature, but the morning ritual is kinda...borderline religious in a way. More spiritual than religious, I suppose, but yeah.

Also I love Ax so much. 10/10 character. He has it all: an incredibly hilarious desire for cinnamon buns, the inability to act like a human being (same dude), spitting random facts at completely random times, a thirst for blood only a 13(?) years old could have, a dysfunctional obsession with duty and doing what is right that only a 13(?) years old could have (also lol yeah dude I was like that when I was 13 too. dw you'll grow out of it), he can even code. And he might even be bi (I'm joking but I' referring to the fact that he was like "Yeah so when I morph into a human form I suddenly agree that Rachel is beautiful and that Marco is cute.").

[somerunner]

[Video description: In Playstation 1 graphics, an old man walks onto a snowboard course with his walker. He clips the snowboard through his walker, holding it for a second, and blasts off into the sky. Electronic music plays throughout; the beat drops when he flies away.

/End description]

I beg my followers to check out Battle Tapes' music video for their song "Brand New" - since I figure most people don't click on Youtube links, I took the liberty of using some tools to clip just the beat drop.

The rest of the video is just as good as this.

Here's the link; it's inline instead of embedded because it's 3am and I'm paranoid that people on Tumblr go "ew an embedded Youtube link": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tp6an4eVzP8

[immeg-12]

Yo! Could you draw my oc character from my post?

#asks #art requests

not exactly what I had in mind when opening requests, but your oc is cool :D

Tried out changing my lineart a bit for this one, I liked how it turned out :D

[marshmellowtea]

can I have some unhinged Chris headcanons pretty please

yes of course always <3 i'm assuming this is in response to the ask meme i reblogged so i'm gonna answer this under that assumption, sorry if that's not what you meant aghlkdasjfkl. i'm gonna try and put ones i haven't posted on the blog before (or at least not posted about in depth) but i can't remember everything i ever posted so sorry if there's any repeats :')

Headcanon A:  realistic

was talking about this with @not-mary-sue recently but i'm like 90% sure he wrote spirit of christmas himself lmao. i'm pretty sure it's canon that he did rewrites to the version of peter pan we see in ppgw (i don't remember where i read this so take it with a grain of salt but i choose to believe it aghlkdasjf) so i wouldn't put it past him to write an entire play and make his friends put it on for him </3 it's also Not Good so that just adds to my theory LMAO sorry chris i just don't think you're capable of writing a good play for the life of you buddy-boo :')))

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

i don't know why but misandrist chris just really gets me. like yes i think realistically the reason he seems more consistently annoyed with his male actors than his female actors is because they're just generally more incompetent but what if he just hated men for Real. could be funny could be silly! tbh i don't know if this is funny to anyone who's not me but it make Me laugh so lol

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

there's so many things i could put here cuz all i do is think about chris angst headcanons aakldfjklasdf................what about the fact i think he was an alcoholic in university and he's almost died of alcohol poisoning so many times that he can no longer let himself touch the stuff. or the fact i think celia and raymond removed the lock from his door as a child so he couldn't have any privacy in their home. or the fact that i think he's severely touch starved but terrified to ask for affection cuz he's had his need for comfort used against him before. or the fact he instinctively regresses around his mother cuz he's scared of her but also desperate for her love. or or or—(*my mic gets cut off abruptly so i can't keep rambling like this forever*)

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i am actively choosing to believe he's living with max and sandra during the show era in their weird sweet little throuple arrangement idc what anyone else says. they've married him and adopted him into their family and they love him to death and he loves them to death too. yes they do still squabble onstage and yes sometimes that bleeds into their domestic life(/vise versa where their domestic life bleeds into their stage life) but they always figure it out in the end cuz they care about each other. they're ride or die and i'm ride or die for chrissandrax baby! related but i also think their polycule extends beyond just the three of them but those are thoughts for another post lol

[c6jpg]

i should have paid more attention to the first part of the little saurian world quest bc i am now fully invested

[waterfallofspace]

When H/awks gets a voice message from D/abi, he doesn't have a clue what he's getting into. (Strongly implied kink!Hawks)

First H/otwings wav~ (and content at all~). It's nothing super big, just a little idea I've had for a bit, and I had time to throw something together~ Mayyybe the fact (most of) it's a voice message can forgive the quality issues? <3

[loisinherlane]

@mamawasatesttube going off about Robin Kon and making me need to write things...

Conner Wayne is supposedly a distant relative of Bruce's. He met Tim a few times while Tim had been staying at Wayne Manor. He's accompanying Bruce to the funeral. These are the facts that Bruce had laid out, and Kon had memorized them well.

He hopes he won't have to use them at all, as he doesn't think he can handle it. Tim's father went for an open casket, which is all well and good, since the gas didn't seem to damage the outside. The boy lying in the casket looks perfectly fine, except for the fact that he's dead.

The eyes are closed, which is probably for the best, since that would only hammer home how dead he was, but Kon feels bitter about it. Even in death, he'd never gotten to look him in the eyes. There are pictures of Tim Drake lining the walls, a baby in his mother's arms, a little boy holding an action figure, an older boy dressed for a middle school graduation. They all have bright eyes.

Kon can't show an excess of grief. Bruce had given a whole speech before they left about an acceptable amount of emotion to show. Conner may have known Tim, but he didn't know him well enough to break down at his funeral.

It felt blatantly untrue. Kon knew Tim. Well, he'd known Robin, which was mostly the same thing. Except it wasn't. Kon knew the leader, the bossy, stubborn, independent Wonder Boy. Rob recorded his show for him. Rob yelled at him when he did something reckless in the field. Rob always had to be right. Kon had never met Tim Drake, who by all accounts was a bright, personable young man. He could be a bit of a dork himself, judging by the photos and stories his friends were telling, but he wasn't much like the guy Kon knew as Robin.

They were the same boy. Tim had just had to hide, from both sides. Kon wished he could have met Tim.

Tim's father keeps his wheelchair next to the casket, so when Bruce goes up to say his condolences and Kon follows, he comes face-to-face with the man Tim had given his life for. They don't look too much alike. They have the same dark hair, and there's something in the set of the eyes that makes Kon see Tim forty years from now. Tim will never reach forty years from now.

"Conner met Tim a few times," Bruce is saying. "He had to express how sorry he was."

"Yeah," Kon says absently. "I'm... I'm sorry. He seemed like a nice guy. I wanted to see him again the next time I visited."

Tim's father doesn't really smile, but he nods. "If only Robin had saved him instead of me," he says.

"If only," Kon thinks, hating this man for something Tim had done. He can't say it. He stays quiet.

[rosietrace]

Bad idea!... Right?

Characters Featured: Camilla Marigold, Tiago Àkèré(@windbornearchon), Victoria Shard

Mentioned: Mercury Von Monarch

Pairing: Camilla Marigold x Tiago Àkèré

Synopsis: Tiago hasn't been in the best of moods lately... Camilla wanted to change that. But whether that's a good idea or not is up for Fate to decide.

Warning(s): Potentially ooc, illegally gathering information on others(Victoria), using information against the person — thus ruining their life altogether, gossip, bullying (implied, not involving leads), mentions of Camilla singing /j

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

†•°•══════ஓ๑⚚๑ஓ══════•°•†

“So, how is it, doll?”

Camilla snorted at the use of the nickname, but gave Tiago the pleasure of an answer.

“Very good, Tia,” she sent him a wink, giggling profusely. “Now, this might sound like a stretch, but I think you outdid yourself with this beignet recipe.”

Tiago chuckled, leaning against RSA's kitchen counter. “Oh? Ya think so?”

“I know so.”

“You seem very sure of yourself, dollface.”

Camilla cocked her head to the side, painting an innocent look on her face whilst extending her hand (likely for more beignets.). “What, is that so wrong?”

“No,” he replied, filling her plate with a couple more beignets. “'Just thought it was cute of you.”

She whistled. “Don't go playing with fire now, Tia. Snakes bite, and so do the flames of a raging inferno.”

Tiago let out a laugh, soft and melodic. “I'm willing to put up with a bit of heat.”

Camilla crossed her legs, winking at him. “Don't be so sure of yourself, Tia.”

This playful banter between them was kind of the norm. It's usually Tiago who'd initiate it, but that wasn't to say Camilla wouldn't start it off, either.

However, this time around, Camilla noticed a weird air around Tiago. Specifically the dark circles in his eyes. And although his smile was a sight for sore eyes…

Camilla seemed to notice this is becoming more common, as days go by.

Naturally, ever concerned for the well-being of her boyfriend, Camilla decided to finally bring it up. “Hey,” she said, calling out to him and catching his attention.

“Are you feeling okay?” she sent him a look of clear concern, wondering if it was something she said — or something else entirely.

That same tired smile was sent back to her as an answer. “I'm fine, doll,” Tiago walked up to Camilla, pressing a kiss to her cheek — and another kiss on her forehead. Almost as if to distract her from his current state.

Unfortunately for Tiago, Camilla cannot be persuaded by even the most charming of…. Well, charms. “Don't try saying that to me, Tia.”

She gave him a sort of pout, but then the genuine worry in her eyes began festering. “Tia, you know you can tell me, y'know…”

Much like Camilla, Tiago wouldn't be easily persuaded. “I'm fine, really,” he leaned against the counter. “Honest.”

“From the looks of it? Not so much,” Camilla clicked her tongue, shooting a knowing look at Tiago. She wasn't going to let this go so easily.

It wasn't that Tiago didn't trust Camilla. He did. But….

“Wait,” Camilla paused, trying to think of why Tiago wasn't telling her anything. “Do you think I'm going to gossip about you if you tell me how you're feeling-?”

“What?? N-No!” Tiago rushed back to her side, reassuringly putting his head on her shoulders and kissing her temple. “I know you wouldn't stoop that low, doll. You love gossip, I know, but you wouldn't do that.”

She pursed her lips, face twisting. “I know, but….”

“Doll,” Tiago took one of his hands and began caressing her cheek. “I'm fine. You don't have to worry about anything because there's nothing to worry about.”

That's a bear-faced lie and you know that, Camilla thought, now beginning to ponder on what she should do if she wanted to find out.

And, very soon, she knew just the person to go to for help.

༝ㅤ･. ↯ㅤ˚ㅤ↳。ㅤ.ㅤ𓆙⋆ㅤ

“You better have a good explanation for why you suddenly interrupted my alchemy lesson.”

Victoria leaned against the wall, arching a brow at Camilla with crossed arms. The latter, however, was smiling awkwardly at her older cousin — pondering what she should tell her.

“So….. You know how I'm dating Tia?” Camilla asked, trying to make it sound as natural a question as possible.

“I am aware,” Victoria shook her head. “You never shut up about him.”

That got Camilla giggling for a moment, but her focus returned to her task at hand. “Yes, um-” she let out an awkward cough. “.... I'm gonna need info on him.”

Well, that certainly got Victoria blinking and internally judging her cousin.

“.... Pardon? You want me to give you information on your boyfriend.”

“Yes- I mean- Well, that isn't exactly what I meant-”

“Then what point were you trying to make?” The look in Victoria's eyes sharpened. “Did you two get into an argument?”

“No!” Camilla dropped any questions along those lines immediately. “It's just-”

“Just?” Victoria beckoned Camilla to continue, tilting her head slightly. With a gaze so sharp that Camilla had to take a breath or two before continuing.

Finally, Camilla mustered enough confidence to admit to her cousin. “It's just…. It feels like something's been bothering him lately. And- And he won't tell me about it, which is insane! I mean, did I do something wrong? Did I do something to offend him? Does he think I'm gonna spill the beans to everyone on campus if I-”

“He's not keeping it from you because of reasons like that,” Victoria cut her off, raising a hand as a gesture that it was her turn to talk. “Most likely, he isn't telling you so you don't get worried.”

“But that's ridiculous!” Camilla groaned into her hands. “Doesn't he know he can trust me with these things!”

“As said before, he's keeping it from you so you don't make a fuss about it. Tiago prefers getting noticed for his food, not for what's going on in his personal life,” It took everything in Victoria to not let out an exasperated huff.

Leaning against the wall next to her, Camilla crossed her arms, the expression on her face twisted to look like a pout. It managed to make Victoria chuckle a bit, at least.

After a moment or two of complete silence between them, Victoria spoke up.

“So,” she angled her head up, staring at the stone ceiling. “You want me to figure out what's been bothering him?”

“I mean,” Camilla scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, basically. You're the best person for the job…”

That got a ghost of a smile out of Victoria. “I'm flattered, but I'm going to need to inquire with you on whether or not you think this is actually a good idea or not.”

Camilla rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously doubting me?”

“Yes,” Victoria answered swiftly. “And I feel I should warn you, Mercury won't be pleased once word gets to him.”

“It isn't his business, so he should just keep his judgemental comments up his ass,” Camilla grumbled — one section of her hair turning into a serpent that sided with her.

This time it was Victoria's turn to roll her eyes, as she began walking away from Camilla to (begrudgingly) fulfill her request.

“You better know what you're doing, ‘Milla.”

༝ㅤ･. ↯ㅤ˚ㅤ↳。ㅤ.ㅤ𓆙⋆ㅤ

As soon as she got the information she wanted, Camilla got to work.

Now within the comfort of her dorm room, Camilla leaned against the headboard, reading through the information her cousin managed to gather for her.

She clicked her tongue. Looks like someone's been talking down on Tia….

That was certainly displeasing to Camilla's ears. The sheer thought that someone could dislike her oh-so-princely boyfriend felt almost alien to her.

Aside from what that someone was saying to affect Tiago, Victoria had been courteous enough to write an additional section of information on the person. Their name, their academic stats, their family, their relationships, etc.

Just reading through everything she was able to find gave Camilla a chill down her spine. Seven's above, Vicky's a little too good at this…

She gulped, somewhat overwhelmed by all the information in a couple of documents, before confidence washed over her. That smile washed over her.

She scoffed. “Taking this guy down is about as easy as writing my own personal burn book,” Camilla murmured.

All sense of morality? It was all out of the window by then. When it came to the way something affected Tiago, he always came first and foremost, for Camilla.

That wasn't to say Camilla was morally sound, to begin with, though.

༝ㅤ･. ↯ㅤ˚ㅤ↳。ㅤ.ㅤ𓆙⋆ㅤ

Tiago looked around, slightly skeptical as he and Camilla walked down RSA’s halls. Hmm….

“Something bothering you, Tia?” Camilla's voice felt all too pleased. At the moment, she was looking at her compact mirror, reapplying some lip gloss.

“I’m…. Fine, I guess,” Tiago leaned over to her to whisper; “Is it just me, or is everyone starin’ at us?...”

Camilla could only giggle a little too endearingly, pecking Tiago’s lips for a moment. And only a moment. “Aw, Tia, calm down. They're not staring.”

And by not staring, she meant Not-Staring. Not looking at the person to the point it was deliberate.

Tiago didn't get the memo of that, though. “Ah,” he breathed. “Right….”

As they walked — side by side, hand-in-hand — Camilla couldn't fight back the look of utter satisfaction in her eyes.

They deserved it, she justified it to herself. After what they did to Tia, it was only inevitable!

That was just who Camilla was. Hurting her loved ones, to her, is a crime worse than anything else. And it's simply an impulse for her to retaliate using the only thing she deems herself good at.

Gossip. Talking behind their back, keeping secrets.

She knew Tiago wouldn't have approved if he found out. That he wouldn't be angry, but rather disappointed in her.

And she doesn't want that. Never in her life could she manage the thought of that ever happening.

So she'll find solace in moments like the one she's having with him now, lovey-dovey and almost fairytale-esque until the time comes when they'll finally clash.

Whatever comes next is a problem for her future self.

†•°•══════ஓ๑⚚๑ஓ══════•°•†

Taglist

↳ [ Please notify if you want to be part of the Taglist/If I forgot anyone ]

🥥 — @starry-night-rose • @authoruio • @sakuramidnight15 • @fumikomiyasaki • @nem0-nee

—

In dedication to — @windbornearchon

—

🩷 — @celiica/@terrovaniadorm • @twsted-princess • @geminiiviolets • @mystery-skulls-ghost • @absolutelyobsessedkiya • @oseathepebble • @sandbees • @vivaresmala

†•°•══════ஓ๑⚚๑ஓ══════•°•†

[koka-mi]

IT'S THE WEEKEND LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.