will try to write for - joel miller, eddie munson, steve harrington, james potter, remus lupin, sirius black, tasm!peter parker, aaron hotchner, spencer reid
⋆˙⟡WHAT I WRITE & DON’T WRITE⋆˙⟡
only fluff and (maybe) hurt/comfort
will also write shy!reader, modern au’s, animagus!reader, and pregnancy tropes
will write fem!reader automatically, but happy to do gender neutral!reader if you specify that
will not write male!reader
please no NSFW!!
⋆˙⟡GENERAL GUIDELINES⋆˙⟡
please feel free to send in whatever you want as long as it’s not nsfw! no guarantee that i will be able to write every request (since i’m still very new to this) but i’ll do my best!
also i'm always happy to chat through my ask box too :) don’t be shy!
Hello angel! I love your tasm peter parker x reader fics! Id love to put in a request, Peter and Reader adopt a cute brown mutt pup! And the reader finds soo many similarities between him and the pup! (In a nice way ofc!) And finds it adorable! 🥰 Thanks you!! Have a great day!!
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ tasm!peter parker x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
you and peter adopt a puppy
783 words
a/n: I have had this one sitting in my drafts for soo long omg sorry babe
The house is surprisingly quiet when you get home. It’s not that Peter is an obnoxiously loud person, it’s the newest addition to your house that makes most of the noise these days.
You step out of your shoes quietly, in case Peter is napping. He had a late night last night, not swinging through your bedroom’s window until close to two in the morning. You had been asleep (despite your efforts to wait up for him,) but had felt him slide into bed behind you, lean arms worming around your waist. You had only woken up enough to hear him whisper a soft “goodnight” against your shoulder where your shirt had slipped down.
You move further into the apartment, taking in the small mess. Tiny dog bones, fluffy toys resembling various other animals and foods, one of those toys with a hole for treats inside, all lay strewn about in the hallway. When you come into the living room, you see the culprit laying in a tight ball on the rug, snoring softly. Or maybe the snoring was Peter, long limbs stretched out across the couch, lips parted. His head rests on the throw pillow, strands of hair sticking in all sorts of directions.
A smile stretches across your lips as you walk quietly towards them. Your boys. With only a couple feet between you and Peter, your puppy blinks his eyes open, and then shoots up when he sees you, its little legs bounding over to you, brown ears flopping.
“Hi puppy,” you whisper, kneeling down to his level. You and Peter adopted him only a couple days ago from a local shelter, and still haven’t decided on a name. For now, it’s just puppy, or baby or sweetheart or any other saccharine name that comes to mind.
Your face gets covered in kisses, making it sticky, but you can’t muster up any anger. You find yourself in a similar scenario often with Peter, actually. Mud tracks by the front doors, windows left open even in the cold weather. Yet, he looks at you with his warm eyes, holds you with even warmer hands, and you forget what you wanted to argue about. Sometimes, you’re convinced that he does it on purpose.
You don’t realize he’s waking until the puppy grabs hold of a squeaky toy, its noise high-pitched and loud enough to make Peter stir. His eyes blink open against the afternoon sun, unfocused for a moment before they land on you. You watch the realization sink in as a smile tugs at his lips, his arm stretching out for you.
“C’mere,” he mumbles, voice thick from sleep. His fingers curl in a silent plea, only seeming to settle once you shuffle on your knees over to him. Propped up on his elbow, his arm wraps around your shoulders. You’re happy to be squeezed.
“When did you get home?” he mumbles, words melting into a yawn. His breath is warm against your temple, lips smooshed against your skin.
“Just now,” you reply. “Did the puppy wear you out?”
You feel his smile against your skin and lean back so you can see it too.
“Don’t underestimate him, babe,” Peter murmurs, voice still low and rough from sleep. He falls back onto the pillow, running a hand over his face. “He has a lot of energy for someone who weighs, what, ten pounds?”
Like he understands someone is speaking about him, the dog yips from behind you, bounding forward to throw himself into your lap. He then proceeds to try and jump up onto the couch, desperate to get to Peter. Feeling bad at his poor attempts, you scoop him up and drop him onto Peter’s chest.
The next few moments are full of embarrassingly sweet baby talk from your boyfriend. He says he hates it, but you’ve heard more of it from him in the last few days than in the years you’ve known him. (Not counting, of course, the times he’s in a mood and needs you oh so close. Such a pretty girl, he’ll says.)
Pressing against the couch to get closer, you scratch behind the dog’s ears, kissing the top of its pointy, little head. Peter worms his arm back behind your shoulders, giving you a warm kiss of your own.
The puppy settles between you two, warm and heavy, his breathing evening out as your fingers keep moving through his fur.
“What’s for dinner?” You finally ask, breaking the silence.
Peter’s head lifts instantly from where he was starting to slump towards you. The dog’s ears perk up, staring at you, looking ready to jump up any moment.
I literally have my dominant arm broken now (a literally hell) I was thinking of something like that with tasm! Peter, like, reader has some broken bone and he's helping his girlfriend in his cute way <3
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ peter parker x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
peter helps you with a broken arm
905 words
a/n: thank you for requesting lovely! i've actually broken both of my arms (separate times) so i feel your pain! hope your recovery goes smoothly♡♡
The quiet of the apartment is broken occasionally with a grunt of annoyance from you. Peter can hear it from where he’s sprawled on the couch, socked feet on the coffee table. He’s trying his best to stay put, but he’s struggling.
After the first few, he’d called out only to get a clipped response. He’s letting you be, ignoring every ounce of him that wants to sweep into the kitchen and cut the damn apple for you. Maybe give you a kiss or two to erase the inevitable frown of your lips.
But you had wanted to do it yourself, and he had to give you that. It was hard for full independence with a broken arm, your dominant one especially.
Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Peter?” Your sound exasperated.
He appears in the kitchen, rather than responding. You’ve been in here for too long anyway, and he’s in need of a hug. From the look of your frown (he knew it) and the furrow of your brow, you could use one too.
“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, coming up to your side. He grips your elbow (the one not covered in a hard cast), and gives it a squeeze. “How about we put the knife down, yeah?”
With a defeated sigh and a drop of your shoulders, you do as he says, the knife cluttering beside your attempt of a sliced apple. Pushing off the counter with your good hand, you move away from the cutting board and apple, inevitably coming closer to Peter. He takes your weight with a smile, your side to his front. Your bad arm is pressed to your front with nowhere else to go.
“What’s with the frown?” He asks softly, his lips smooshed against your temple and then brow for good measure. His other hand rests between your shoulder blades and can feel you start to ease. “Are you hangry?”
You shake your head, letting Peter take the brunt of your weight now, your head tucked into his warm neck. “I want this thing off,” you mumble, slightly childish but also not. Losing ability with your dominant arm seemed doable at first, until your first full day with it. You had never really thought about how you need it for every single thing, whether that’s making your bed, brushing your teeth, or getting yourself a snack.
Peter’s palm sweeps up and down your back, wrinkling your t-shirt in the process. “The doctor said only a couple weeks. Then you’ll get it off and x-rayed, and you’ll be good as new.” When this doesn’t seem to console you, he adds, “I can come with you, if you want. You know I will.”
You let out a long breath, the air tickling the side of Peter’s neck. You don’t seem fully satisfied, he can tell by the set of your shoulders, but he knows everything will be fine once you get some food. He gives your side a sympathetic squeeze.
“Go sit, baby, I’ll cut your apple.” He resumes your place as you perch on a stool at the counter, head in hand.
Admittedly, you do feel less frustrated after Peter’s interference. He always seemed to know what you need, even before you do; whether it was silence, a hug, or space, he seemed happy to provide.
A minute later, Peter slides the cutting board in front of you and you look down. He had cut the apple into thin slices, the skin facing up. But instead of leaving them in a line or pile, he had created a heart. Your own heart, caught off guard, melted, warmth blooming through your chest.
Peter has a boyish grin on his face when you meet his eyes, and it’s hard for your smile not to match. He grins at you like he knows exactly how ridiculous he is, but he does it anyway. “You’re so cute, Peter,” you say, your voice sticky sweet.
He leans across the counter, kissing the outer corner of your eye like he can’t help it. “Says you,” he says. You giggle, mouth full of apple, but you don’t mind and neither does he. He grins, eyes crinkling, clearly proud to have drawn it from you.
You munch quietly for a moment, the apple sweet on your tongue. Peter stays leaning against the counter in front of you, happy to watch you eat.
“I hate asking for help,” you admit quietly, eyes on the cutting board still being used as a plate.
“I know,” Peter says softly. “But I like helping you.”
The silence settles between you like a warm, familiar blanket. You offer Peter a slice with your good hand and he takes it gratefully.
“You know,” he starts after swallowing, tilting his head to the side to look down at you. The longer bits of his hair kiss his eyelashes. “This whole cast thing could benefit me in some ways.”
You raise your brows in surprise. “Oh yeah? How?”
“Well, for starters, you might let me shower with you again,” he says, counting it on his pointer finger. His middle finger follows suit when he adds, “Maybe you’ll let me dress you?”
If you rolled your eyes any harder, they might’ve gotten stuck. But the smile tugging on your lips betrays you anyway.
I need a weak at the knees Eddie Munson to his crush shoving their tongue down his throat to get him to shut up
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
you kiss eddie (your crush) to shut him up
927 words
a/n: thank you for the request!
In the few months of knowing Eddie Munson, you’ve learned that he has a couple talents.
Playing guitar. Making DnD characters. Burning popcorn.
And running his mouth. This one, you know from experience, he excels at. You've barely made it inside his trailer, escaping the harsh Indiana winds, when his commentary starts.
“There she is,” he announces, letting the door swing shut behind you. Before you can get out of your jacket, he tosses his arm over your shoulders and pulls you against him. You try not to think of the way his body feels against yours. Or the way you can smell his body wash. “I was wondering when you’d finally show up.”
Eddie doesn’t seem to notice the way your cheeks warm, or the way your shoulders tense. He never does. Or maybe he does and enjoys acting oblivious. Both are likely to happen, considering.
He steers you toward his bedroom, squeezing your shoulder like you might bolt if he lets go. Eddie Munson’s bedroom isn’t an entirely unfamiliar place. You’ve been here before for movie nights and helping him with campaigns or homework. Eddie isn’t an unfamiliar person either, an unexpected friend in a few of your classes. Once he had realized that you don’t share the same hatred for him as the majority of Hawkins, he had sought you out.
“I thought you were gonna bail on me, sweetheart. My heart is too fragile for that.” He presses his palm over his chest, as if his heart was truly breaking.
You shove him off you (gently, of course.) Any longer and you’re sure he’d be able to feel the heat radiating off of you. “Sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”
He sighs and flops onto his bed as soon as you enter his room, long limbs splayed outwards. “Tragic. My girl nearly stood me up. How will I ever live?”
Needing to put your back to him, you drop your bag onto his desk chair, followed by your coat. My girl. Those two words do more to your nervous system than they should. They buzz in your ears, warm and dizzying, like you’ve swallowed something fizzy and it’s bubbling up in your chest.
“Well, I’m here now,” you say, your throat tight. You cough and perch on the end of his bed, folding your legs beneath you. His quilt is rough against your hands as you toy with a loose string. “What movie are we watching tonight?”
He doesn’t look at you right away, eyes trained on the ceiling. Within the next second, he’s sitting up, wide eyes trained on you. “So,” he starts, his tone already meaning trouble. “Were you with him earlier? Is that why you were late?” His eyebrows wiggle, as if suggesting something well… suggestive.
You groan, head tipping back. “Eddie, not this again.” You open your mouth to argue again but Eddie beats you to it.
“Look, it’s fine,” he says, waving his hand. “You don’t have to be shy, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, promise.” He mimes zipping his mouth closed.
He ignores you completely. “It’s definitely more than I could ever do with my crush. And it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me yet because I can figure it out on my-”
“Eddie, please stop.”
He hums, a thinking noise. “-and if I had to guess, he’s definitely someone in my grade. Maybe a guy in one of your classes? Hmm, out of the two classes we don’t have together…”
That’s it.
You lean forward, grabbing his shirt in both hands, pulling him towards you. He makes a small, startled sound against your mouth, before he melts into it completely. His fingers slide up the side of your neck to your jaw, thumb rubbing against your skin as if you’d disappear if he touched you too roughly. His lips stretch into a smile against yours, yours following suit shortly after.
When you finally pull away, his eyes are still closed, lips parted as if he’s ready for you to come back.
You don’t. Mostly because you’re horrified at what you just did.
Eddie blinks his eyes open, pupils dilated, face dazed. You let go of his shirt immediately, scooting back towards the end of his bed. He lets you go.
You cover your face with your hands, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Oh my God.”
He laughs too, a new laugh you haven’t heard before. This one makes you feel like a timid, scared animal, and he’s trying to stay quiet so as to not scare you.
“Hey,” he says softly. You feel the bed dip when he comes closer, prying your hands off of your face. When you look at him, his eyes are already on yours, looking at you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.
“That wasn’t-” you start, your voice soft. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you like that.”
His smile curls at the ends, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I kissed you back.”
“You were talking a lot.” You feel your lips curl up in a small smile.
He huffs, nudging your knee with his. “If that’s your way of shutting me up, I am going to be insufferable from now on.”
You roll your eyes, relaxing slightly. “You’re already insufferable.”
He leans closer, breath fanning over your lips. “Well good thing I have you to shut me up, right?”
i know I’ve been super absent on here (college has been kicking my ass) but i would love to start posting blurbs again <33 so if you have any requests plsss send them my way !!
Hii! Can I request some fluff with Peter? Maybe something where he’s protective of reader? I loveee your work x
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ tasm!peter parker x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
peter wants to keep you warm
a/n: baby blurb!!! thank you for requesting♡♡
“Pete, this is ridiculous.”
You’re surprised he can even understand you with how much your voice is muffled, a fluffy scarf completely covering the bottom half of your face. Must be that super-spider hearing he has. “You’ll thank me later, babe, when you aren’t miserable with a cold.” He doesn’t try to hide the small smile adorning his lips. He ducks in to peck the corner of your eye, hoping to mollify your annoyance.
It’s been a cold week in Queens, the daily temperatures barely reaching 40ºF. Your boyfriend, naturally, has adapted the role of mother hen, never letting you step outside unless covered head-to-toe in winter gear. You pretend to be annoyed, mostly, but it’s nice to have someone doting on you. Especially him, with his soft eyes and hair and lips. Anyway, it makes him happy, so you let him dote.
“Wouldn’t you take care of me, if I got sick?” You watch a divot appear between his brows as he zips up your jacket.
He gives you a look. “Duh. What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” Finished with your zipper, he gives your shoulder a pat. “Do you think you’ll be warm enough?” he asks, adorning his own jacket and gloves.
You’ve already started to sweat just from standing in the entryway. You huff, trying to tug the scarf down to tuck it beneath your chin. “I think I’m gonna get heatstroke if we don’t leave soon.”
He grins, tugging a hat over his mop of hair. He helps you, hand grasping the side of your jaw to keep the scarf in place. “You’re the one who wanted donuts. You knew the price.”
It takes a moment for you to answer, his gloved thumb sweeping along the line of your jaw. You nudge your forehead with his. “Let’s go, Pete, before it gets too busy.”
He leans down and kisses your brow, then your temple, then your cheek, like he’s making a map of all the places you like to be kissed. Your body heat now has nothing to do with your clothes, and everything to do with him.
“Pete,” you groan, dragging it out.
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, pulling your scarf back up. He reaches for the door handle with one hand and holds your hand with the other. You’re not the one with super-spider hearing, but you think you hear him mutter, “Can’t even make sure my girl is warm enough without getting yelled at.”
Hii! Can I request some fluff with Peter? Maybe something where he’s protective of reader? I loveee your work x
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ tasm!peter parker x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
peter wants to keep you warm
a/n: baby blurb!!! thank you for requesting♡♡
“Pete, this is ridiculous.”
You’re surprised he can even understand you with how much your voice is muffled, a fluffy scarf completely covering the bottom half of your face. Must be that super-spider hearing he has. “You’ll thank me later, babe, when you aren’t miserable with a cold.” He doesn’t try to hide the small smile adorning his lips. He ducks in to peck the corner of your eye, hoping to mollify your annoyance.
It’s been a cold week in Queens, the daily temperatures barely reaching 20ºF. Your boyfriend, naturally, has adapted the role of mother hen, never letting you step outside unless covered head-to-toe in winter gear. You pretend to be annoyed, mostly, but it’s nice to have someone doting on you. Especially him, with his soft eyes and hair and lips. Anyway, it makes him happy, so you let him dote.
“Wouldn’t you take care of me, if I got sick?” You watch a divot appear between his brows as he zips up your jacket.
He gives you a look. “Duh. What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” Finished with your zipper, he gives your shoulder a pat. “Do you think you’ll be warm enough?” he asks, adorning his own jacket and gloves.
You’ve already started to sweat just from standing in the entryway. You huff, trying to tug the scarf down to tuck it beneath your chin. “I think I’m gonna get heatstroke if we don’t leave soon.”
He grins, tugging a hat over his mop of hair. He helps you, hand grasping the side of your jaw to keep the scarf in place. “You’re the one who wanted donuts. You knew the price.”
It takes a moment for you to answer, his gloved thumb sweeping along the line of your jaw. You nudge your forehead with his. “Let’s go, Pete, before it gets too busy.”
He leans down and kisses your brow, then your temple, then your cheek, like he’s making a map of all the places you like to be kissed. Your body heat now has nothing to do with your clothes, and everything to do with him.
“Pete,” you groan, dragging it out.
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, pulling your scarf back up. He reaches for the door handle with one hand and holds your hand with the other. You’re not the one with super-spider hearing, but you think you hear him mutter, “Can’t even make sure my girl is warm enough without getting yelled at.”
I need a weak at the knees Eddie Munson to his crush shoving their tongue down his throat to get him to shut up
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
you kiss eddie (your crush) to shut him up
927 words
a/n: thank you for the request!
In the few months of knowing Eddie Munson, you’ve learned that he has a couple talents.
Playing guitar. Making DnD characters. Burning popcorn.
And running his mouth. This one, you know from experience, he excels at. You've barely made it inside his trailer, escaping the harsh Indiana winds, when his commentary starts.
“There she is,” he announces, letting the door swing shut behind you. Before you can get out of your jacket, he tosses his arm over your shoulders and pulls you against him. You try not to think of the way his body feels against yours. Or the way you can smell his body wash. “I was wondering when you’d finally show up.”
Eddie doesn’t seem to notice the way your cheeks warm, or the way your shoulders tense. He never does. Or maybe he does and enjoys acting oblivious. Both are likely to happen, considering.
He steers you toward his bedroom, squeezing your shoulder like you might bolt if he lets go. Eddie Munson’s bedroom isn’t an entirely unfamiliar place. You’ve been here before for movie nights and helping him with campaigns or homework. Eddie isn’t an unfamiliar person either, an unexpected friend in a few of your classes. Once he had realized that you don’t share the same hatred for him as the majority of Hawkins, he had sought you out.
“I thought you were gonna bail on me, sweetheart. My heart is too fragile for that.” He presses his palm over his chest, as if his heart was truly breaking.
You shove him off you (gently, of course.) Any longer and you’re sure he’d be able to feel the heat radiating off of you. “Sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”
He sighs and flops onto his bed as soon as you enter his room, long limbs splayed outwards. “Tragic. My girl nearly stood me up. How will I ever live?”
Needing to put your back to him, you drop your bag onto his desk chair, followed by your coat. My girl. Those two words do more to your nervous system than they should. They buzz in your ears, warm and dizzying, like you’ve swallowed something fizzy and it’s bubbling up in your chest.
“Well, I’m here now,” you say, your throat tight. You cough and perch on the end of his bed, folding your legs beneath you. His quilt is rough against your hands as you toy with a loose string. “What movie are we watching tonight?”
He doesn’t look at you right away, eyes trained on the ceiling. Within the next second, he’s sitting up, wide eyes trained on you. “So,” he starts, his tone already meaning trouble. “Were you with him earlier? Is that why you were late?” His eyebrows wiggle, as if suggesting something well… suggestive.
You groan, head tipping back. “Eddie, not this again.” You open your mouth to argue again but Eddie beats you to it.
“Look, it’s fine,” he says, waving his hand. “You don’t have to be shy, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, promise.” He mimes zipping his mouth closed.
He ignores you completely. “It’s definitely more than I could ever do with my crush. And it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me yet because I can figure it out on my-”
“Eddie, please stop.”
He hums, a thinking noise. “-and if I had to guess, he’s definitely someone in my grade. Maybe a guy in one of your classes? Hmm, out of the two classes we don’t have together…”
That’s it.
You lean forward, grabbing his shirt in both hands, pulling him towards you. He makes a small, startled sound against your mouth, before he melts into it completely. His fingers slide up the side of your neck to your jaw, thumb rubbing against your skin as if you’d disappear if he touched you too roughly. His lips stretch into a smile against yours, yours following suit shortly after.
When you finally pull away, his eyes are still closed, lips parted as if he’s ready for you to come back.
You don’t. Mostly because you’re horrified at what you just did.
Eddie blinks his eyes open, pupils dilated, face dazed. You let go of his shirt immediately, scooting back towards the end of his bed. He lets you go.
You cover your face with your hands, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Oh my God.”
He laughs too, a new laugh you haven’t heard before. This one makes you feel like a timid, scared animal, and he’s trying to stay quiet so as to not scare you.
“Hey,” he says softly. You feel the bed dip when he comes closer, prying your hands off of your face. When you look at him, his eyes are already on yours, looking at you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.
“That wasn’t-” you start, your voice soft. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you like that.”
His smile curls at the ends, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I kissed you back.”
“You were talking a lot.” You feel your lips curl up in a small smile.
He huffs, nudging your knee with his. “If that’s your way of shutting me up, I am going to be insufferable from now on.”
You roll your eyes, relaxing slightly. “You’re already insufferable.”
He leans closer, breath fanning over your lips. “Well good thing I have you to shut me up, right?”
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ rockstar!eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
eddie reassures you that you’re the only one for him
1.5k words - cw: mention of groupies and cheating (neither in detail)
You don’t usually travel with them.
It’s not like you don’t want to, but being an adult is hard. You have bills to pay and a job to go to; you don’t have the time or funds to travel coast to coast with Eddie and the boys. Tonight is different. The tour has brought Corroded Coffin close to home, and Eddie had asked you to come with a wide smile and a kiss. It would’ve been hard to say no even if you wanted to.
So here you are, tucked backstage while the boys finish their set, adrenaline pumping through the venue. You can hear the last song wrapping up Eddie’s guitar loud over the crowd. You’re wondering whether that's because he is loud or if your ears are just attuned to him when a girl comes up to your side.
She’s already looking at you when you turn. She's pretty. Tall and blonde. Looks like she could be a model if she wanted to, but she’s more likely one of the college students that stick with the band, hoping for one of the boys to notice her.
“You with the band?” Her voice competes with the loud music as she perches on the arm of the chair beside yours.
You nod and smile politely. “Yeah. I’m Eddie’s girlfriend.”
She looks you up and down, eyes lingering on your clothes. Shifting uncomfortably, you watch the door, waiting for Eddie’s entrance to come and save you.
“You go on tour with them?”
Your eyes are still on the door as you listen to the outro to their last song. Tonight’s crowd is loud and rowdy; you had seen as much when you peeked out to look. Shaking your head, you say, “No, I have a job.”
The girl lets out a low whistle, raising her brows in surprise. “That’s brave.”
Your own brows go up in confusion, turning your head to look back at her. “What do you mean?”
She sips a beer that she must’ve grabbed from the cases stacked behind her. “It’s no offense, I just don’t see that many girlfriends letting their men go off on tour without them,” she says, twirling a long piece of her light hair. Her eyes roam around casually, as if what she’s saying isn’t causing beads of sweat to form on the back of your neck. “Y’know, the whole rockstars and groupies stuff. Can’t have one without the other.”
You’re saved from responding when cheers leak through the now open door, the band members coming in one by one. They all buzz with that post-performance energy, bounding across the room. Eddie is full of the same, eyes searching for something. You, if you had to guess.
When his eyes do find you, he lights up like a damn match. You’re already standing when he makes his way over to you, wrapping his sweaty arms around you, pulling you against his lean body.
“Did you hear the crowd?” He asks, astonished, against the warm skin of your neck. You feel and hear his smile rather than see it. His hands squeeze your hips, palms warm enough to seep through your shirt.
His excitement is enough to rid your mind of the girl from before temporarily. Your fingers curl into the damp fabric of his shirt.
“You were amazing,” you say, and you mean it. The crowd must agree with you, their energy still ringing through the walls and along your bones.
Eddie comes out of your neck to look at you, eyes sparking with adrenaline and affection blended together. “I had to play my best, my girl is here.” He pushes your hair back as he says this, following it with a quick kiss to your lips. You hum, but the feeling starts to fade, the love swelling in your chest turning into dread when you think of her words.
Rockstars and groupies. Can’t have one without the other.
You trust Eddie, you really do, but now the thought is there, lingering like the smoke from a blown-out candle.
He hasn’t seemed to notice, though, too busy with saying goodnight to the boys. They peel off in different directions, some for a drink and others for their dressing rooms. Eddie comes back to your side, fingers loosely holding onto the back loop of your jean shorts.
He kisses the side of your head. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
You allow him to guide you to his dressing room. As you walk, he talks animatedly, most likely retelling something that happened on stage. You struggle to pay attention though, replaying every phone call and visit between you and Eddie the last few months. No way, you tell yourself. This is Eddie.
He tells you everything. He calls you every night. He sends you postcards from truck stops and brings you little trinkets from cities you’ve never even heard of. He writes songs about you. He cries over you. He carries a photo of you in his wallet like you’re some kind of lucky charm.
Inside his dressing room is quieter. Dim lighting hums overhead, casting a soft glow over the limited furniture and clothes spread sporadically throughout. You sink into the couch, ignoring the spring you feel beneath your thigh.
“You okay?” He asks, grabbing a towel from its hanger to pat himself dry of sweat.
You force a small smile. “Yeah. Just a long day.”
Forgetting about the towel, he comes over to kneel in front of you, loose strands of his hair tickling your bare thighs. Reluctantly meeting his eyes, you read his face immediately. The look of concern mixed with I can read right through your lies, sweetheart.
His hand finds your knee, giving it a squeeze. “You sure? You’re quiet.”
You hesitate, opening and then closing your mouth. You could tell him. Let it out, let it ruin nothing or everything. Would it be better to know, to rip the band-aid off and get it over with?
“There was this girl…” you start slowly, watching as worried creases start to appear on his face: between his brows, at the corners of his lips as they tug downwards into a frown. “She just started talking to me about how rockstars and girlfriends don’t really mix well. Because of… well, groupies.”
Eddie’s expression turns cold and hard. “Who?” He asks, his voice low. “What girl?”
You shake your head quickly, letting out a small sigh as you cover his hand with yours. “It doesn’t matter. Really. It just stuck in my head.”
He doesn’t look mollified. He’s still staring at you, brows drawn, like he’s trying to read between every word you’re saying. Eventually, he exhales, shoulders relaxing.
“Baby,” he murmurs, both hands now sliding up your thighs. “You know I’m yours, right?”
You don’t say anything yet, assuming that he isn’t done. You’re right.
He rises from the floor to sit beside you on the couch, facing you completely. “I know that I’ve been on tour for a couple months, and being away from you sucks ass, but it has always been just you.” He huffs out a breath, searching for the words. “And I’m not stupid. I know where I belong.”
You look down, eyes burning as you blink quickly. He leans over to kiss your brow softly.
“I don’t care if hundreds of girls throw themselves at me after every show,” he continues. “Because none of them know me like you do. They don’t know how I like my coffee, or that I cry during that one Pink Floyd song you love. But you do, sweetheart. It’s only you.”
You inhale a shaky breath, raising your head to look at him. Reaching out to stroke his cheek, you say, “I know. I trust you Eddie. I really do. She just… got in my head.”
He holds onto your wrist so he can kiss the center of your palm. “I get it, baby,” he says softly. And it hits you now, how you get a version of Eddie that the rest of the world doesn’t. They get the loud guitarist, while you get the boy who paints your nails and kisses your tears away.
You don’t say anything for a second. Just let your hands rest on his cheek as he kisses it again.
“I missed you,” You whisper.
He exhales like he’s been meaning to say the same thing. “Missed you so much that I was going crazy. Told Gareth I was gonna tattoo your name on my ass if I didn’t see you soon.”
A laugh sneaks out of your throat, watery but real. “Please don’t.”
His grin is boyish, all dimples and relief, nose brushing against yours. “Fine. I’ll just write more songs about you, then.”
You shake your head, smile pulling wider as you ask, “Don’t you have enough?”
His face looks like you’ve hit him and then said some outlandish statement. Before he can go on a rant about how you are forever his muse and that you inspire him everyday, you kiss him. To shut him up, yes, but also because he is yours.
Hiii!!💚 I saw you were asking for requests and decided to send one in for a change. I know it’s stereotypical but I’d love to see childhood friends! Eddie and reader where they drift apart in about middle school because he has the realization of “oh, she’s a girl” and he doesn’t know how to act anymore. Preferably with a happy ending! I usually don’t send in requests but I’m a sucker for Eddie.
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ childhood best friend!eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
you and eddie reconnect after years of not talking
944 words
a/n: thank you for your request angel! i don't love this (i'm still a little rusty) but here you go!
The bell above the diner door jingles when you step in, shaking off the crisp November wind. Inside smells like coffee, comforting in a way that makes you forget about your bad day, drama with your friends and a pile of homework waiting for you at home.
You slide into a booth near a window and drum your fingers against your thigh. The waitress, Amy, who’s been here since you were little, waves at you from behind the counter, telling you she’ll be over in a second. Pulling the menu out, you flip through it, wanting something to do with your hands. You hear the bell ring again behind you.
The voice is deeper than you remember. Without turning around, you hear Eddie Munson calling out, “Hey Amy. You miss me?”
You freeze, hands pausing on the menu. His voice hits something deep in your memory, a name from a part of your life you haven’t thought about in years. Tried not to think of.
While Amy and him start to chat, you risk a look over your shoulder. You’ve seen him over the years, of course, Hawkins too small to truly avoid someone. But this is the first time you’ve seen him up close, close enough to see the tattoo peeking out of his sleeve and the rings adorning his fingers.
Like he can feel your stare, he turns, scanning the booths. His eyes land on you, a look you don’t recognize flashing in his eyes.
For a second, it’s like you’re ten again—mud on your shoes, his laughter echoing through the woods behind Forest Hills as he dares you to jump across the creek. But the moment passes just as quickly, replaced by the memory of middle school: the awkward silence, the way he’d started walking a few paces ahead of you, the realization in his eyes that you were suddenly… a girl. Things changed.
You drop your eyes, busying yourself with the laminated menu like your life depends on it. Maybe he’ll ignore you. He will just sit at the counter and act like he didn’t see you at all.
But then his boots scuff the tiled floor, slow, hesitant steps moving right towards you. Through your periphery, you see his shoes stop before your booth.
“Hey.”
Your head snaps up and you blink, caught between the urge to wave and the urge to vanish under the table. “Hey, Eddie.”
For a second, neither of you say anything, just looking into each other's eyes. It’s easy to find pieces of the boy who was your first friend; the big hair, soft eyes that gleam with dozens of emotions all at once. Yet there’s differences too. He’s taller, his smile smaller as if he’s not sure if he can use it on you anymore.
He shifts his weight, hands clasped behind his back. “Are you getting a milkshake?”
You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You remember that?”
“Course I do.” His grin flickers, still hesitant. “You used to say they could fix your problems. A bad day, a bad test, anything.”
You smile slightly, because he’s right. “Guess I did.”
He gestures with his chin towards the seat across from you. “Can I sit?”
You hesitate. Not because you don’t want him to, you really do, but because everything unacknowledged between you two hangs heavy in the air. But the look on his face is hopeful, and you could never say no to him.
“Sure,” you say softly.
He slides into the booth, elbows on the table. “So… how have you been? It’s been awhile.”
You shrug one shoulder and say “I’m fine. Highschool… is highschool.”
He laughs softly. “Yeah, I get it.”
For a few moments, it’s quiet. The jukebox in the corner hums, Amy clears dishes from a nearby table, a group of people sitting nearby laugh at something. It should feel awkward, but there’s this familiarity that sits above anything else.
He catches your eye. “I didn’t mean to just… disappear, you know. Back then.”
You swallow. You weren’t expecting him to bring it up. “You didn’t disappear. You just… stopped showing up.”
He chuckles softly, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards guiltily . “It sounds awful when you say it like that.”
You can’t help but smile at him. “It was awful,” you tease.
Eddie leans back, watching you with a look full of hope and relief. “Guess I deserved that.”
“Guess you did.”
He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. He leans forward again, opening his mouth to say something, eyes shining. But before he can, Amy chooses that moment to come by with her notepad. You startle at her voice, having been so absorbed by him.
“Hey, kids. Haven’t seen you two together in some time,” she says happily. “One chocolate and one vanilla milkshake?”
You and Eddie glance at each other. Is he staying? Or is he leaving once again, leaving you behind, wondering how things could have ended differently? What had been the point of sitting down in the first place, if he didn’t want to make amends?
Like he can hear your thoughts, he shakes his head. Eddie grins up at Amy, the kind of grin that starts small and ends with dimples. Something warm flutters in your chest.
“Yes ma’am,” he replies. “Could we get fries too?”
Like he had taken a hammer to the wall built between you two, you relax in your seat. He’s aiming his grin at you now, and for the first time in years, it feels like you’ve got your best friend back. Maybe, just maybe, you never really lost him.
Hiii!!💚 I saw you were asking for requests and decided to send one in for a change. I know it’s stereotypical but I’d love to see childhood friends! Eddie and reader where they drift apart in about middle school because he has the realization of “oh, she’s a girl” and he doesn’t know how to act anymore. Preferably with a happy ending! I usually don’t send in requests but I’m a sucker for Eddie.
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ childhood best friend!eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
you and eddie reconnect after years of not talking
944 words
a/n: thank you for your request angel! i don't love this (i'm still a little rusty) but here you go!
The bell above the diner door jingles when you step in, shaking off the crisp November wind. Inside smells like coffee, comforting in a way that makes you forget about your bad day, drama with your friends and a pile of homework waiting for you at home.
You slide into a booth near a window and drum your fingers against your thigh. The waitress, Amy, who’s been here since you were little, waves at you from behind the counter, telling you she’ll be over in a second. Pulling the menu out, you flip through it, wanting something to do with your hands. You hear the bell ring again behind you.
The voice is deeper than you remember. Without turning around, you hear Eddie Munson calling out, “Hey Amy. You miss me?”
You freeze, hands pausing on the menu. His voice hits something deep in your memory, a name from a part of your life you haven’t thought about in years. Tried not to think of.
While Amy and him start to chat, you risk a look over your shoulder. You’ve seen him over the years, of course, Hawkins too small to truly avoid someone. But this is the first time you’ve seen him up close, close enough to see the tattoo peeking out of his sleeve and the rings adorning his fingers.
Like he can feel your stare, he turns, scanning the booths. His eyes land on you, a look you don’t recognize flashing in his eyes.
For a second, it’s like you’re ten again—mud on your shoes, his laughter echoing through the woods behind Forest Hills as he dares you to jump across the creek. But the moment passes just as quickly, replaced by the memory of middle school: the awkward silence, the way he’d started walking a few paces ahead of you, the realization in his eyes that you were suddenly… a girl. Things changed.
You drop your eyes, busying yourself with the laminated menu like your life depends on it. Maybe he’ll ignore you. He will just sit at the counter and act like he didn’t see you at all.
But then his boots scuff the tiled floor, slow, hesitant steps moving right towards you. Through your periphery, you see his shoes stop before your booth.
“Hey.”
Your head snaps up and you blink, caught between the urge to wave and the urge to vanish under the table. “Hey, Eddie.”
For a second, neither of you say anything, just looking into each other's eyes. It’s easy to find pieces of the boy who was your first friend; the big hair, soft eyes that gleam with dozens of emotions all at once. Yet there’s differences too. He’s taller, his smile smaller as if he’s not sure if he can use it on you anymore.
He shifts his weight, hands clasped behind his back. “Are you getting a milkshake?”
You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You remember that?”
“Course I do.” His grin flickers, still hesitant. “You used to say they could fix your problems. A bad day, a bad test, anything.”
You smile slightly, because he’s right. “Guess I did.”
He gestures with his chin towards the seat across from you. “Can I sit?”
You hesitate. Not because you don’t want him to, you really do, but because everything unacknowledged between you two hangs heavy in the air. But the look on his face is hopeful, and you could never say no to him.
“Sure,” you say softly.
He slides into the booth, elbows on the table. “So… how have you been? It’s been awhile.”
You shrug one shoulder and say “I’m fine. Highschool… is highschool.”
He laughs softly. “Yeah, I get it.”
For a few moments, it’s quiet. The jukebox in the corner hums, Amy clears dishes from a nearby table, a group of people sitting nearby laugh at something. It should feel awkward, but there’s this familiarity that sits above anything else.
He catches your eye. “I didn’t mean to just… disappear, you know. Back then.”
You swallow. You weren’t expecting him to bring it up. “You didn’t disappear. You just… stopped showing up.”
He chuckles softly, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards guiltily . “It sounds awful when you say it like that.”
You can’t help but smile at him. “It was awful,” you tease.
Eddie leans back, watching you with a look full of hope and relief. “Guess I deserved that.”
“Guess you did.”
He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. He leans forward again, opening his mouth to say something, eyes shining. But before he can, Amy chooses that moment to come by with her notepad. You startle at her voice, having been so absorbed by him.
“Hey, kids. Haven’t seen you two together in some time,” she says happily. “One chocolate and one vanilla milkshake?”
You and Eddie glance at each other. Is he staying? Or is he leaving once again, leaving you behind, wondering how things could have ended differently? What had been the point of sitting down in the first place, if he didn’t want to make amends?
Like he can hear your thoughts, he shakes his head. Eddie grins up at Amy, the kind of grin that starts small and ends with dimples. Something warm flutters in your chest.
“Yes ma’am,” he replies. “Could we get fries too?”
Like he had taken a hammer to the wall built between you two, you relax in your seat. He’s aiming his grin at you now, and for the first time in years, it feels like you’ve got your best friend back. Maybe, just maybe, you never really lost him.
hi angels <33 i know i've said this before but i really am trying to get back into writing! so if you have any fluff requests (specifically for eddie, steve, any of the marauders, or anyone else you lovelies want) please send them my way! or if you just want to chat i'd love to hear♡♡
hi angels <33 i know i've said this before but i really am trying to get back into writing! so if you have any fluff requests (specifically for eddie, steve, any of the marauders, or anyone else you lovelies want) please send them my way! or if you just want to chat i'd love to hear♡♡
Wait omg I'm the person who just sent in an Eddie request about the argument and I hadn't seen that you write fluff only on your request guidelines i'm so sorry please ignore my request i'm sorry!!!
Bye! Have a good day/night 🌞🌚
haha that’s okay!! i do write hurt/comfort so i will probably write that one too. thank you for your requests :)
