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i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky · 2 years

Note

For the prompts, Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second, for Geraskier please? -🐙

((feel free to request more from the prompt list!))

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27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

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Modern!geraskier, fluff, fake/pretend relationship, alcohol mention;

Geralt is too cool to attend Jaskier’s shows.

~400 words

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Jaskier: Geralt help me

Jaskier: I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

Geralt: are you drunk?

Jaskier: What??

Geralt: im coming, dont do anything stupid

Jaskier sighs and puts the phone back into his pocket; then he looks right at his current issue — a tall man with a bright smile standing right in front of him.

“My boyfriend’s going to pick me up,” Jaskier says.

“Why wasn’t he at your show then?”

“He’s… busy. He’s a busy man. A businessman, a man of business, all that...”

Jaskier is a terrible liar.

Geralt loves cars, bikes and horses. He has nothing to do with business at all. Geralt is too cool to attend Jaskier’s shows. He lives in one of Jaskier’s shows; Jaskier calls it a blessing. Geralt calls it a curse.

They’re best friends, Jaskier thinks.

“Are you sure your boyfriend is coming to pick you up?” Mr. Annoying asks.

Jaskier nods, grabs the guitar case and tries to walk away; maybe, just maybe, he’d flirt back if he had a couple more shots of whiskey. Jaskier is not fond of drinking with strangers. He’s not fond of drinking with anyone who’s not Geralt, to be honest. Geralt has an incredibly high alcohol tolerance level. And Geralt will always look after his tipsy friend.

“Your voice is… lovely.”

The man also says something about the angels singing. Jaskier doesn’t listen to him as he leaves the bar, and his fan follows him, of course. Jaskier lets out a sigh of relief when he spots Geralt’s bike.

Jaskier turns to Mr. Annoying, looking at him for the first time.

“Bye,” he says happily.

The man, apparently, doesn’t want to believe Jaskier’s tale. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Geralt’s grumpy facial expression makes him choke on his unsaid words.

“Let’s get you home, Jask.”

Geralt takes off the helmet so Jaskier can lean and kiss him on the lips. This wasn’t even a part of their plan, but this is what the boyfriends do, right? Surprised, Geralt kisses him back. Jaskier doesn’t want this moment of bliss to end, his heart is fluttering when he notices that Geralt is smiling.

Mr. Annoying is nowhere to be found.

“That was…” Jaskier takes a deep breath. “Pretty realistic.”

“Hm.”

Geralt hands him another helmet.

“Yours or mine?” Jaskier asks, wrapping his hands around Geralt’s waist.

“My apartment’s closer,” Geralt shrugs. “No more kisses until you’ve sobered up though.”

This sounds very promising.

Today’s performance was good, but a little encore can make it even better. They will talk about it tomorrow.

#tjwrites :')#geraskier #modern au #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #thank you for the request <3

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zorosmoobs · 6 years

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Zolu Fic Recs

Decided to do this bc someone asked me once and I actually went thru all the garbage on ao3 and read everything I thought would be worth reading. SO! Here you go. Cultivated by zorosmoobs.

heads up: all zolu fics I like and rec will always be free of incest, pedophilia/large age gaps, and zos/an! This means no A/SL ships, no c/oralaw or la/wlu, no z/orobin or na/mirobin or really robin/anyone that isn’t franky, or other assorted freakery (like kat/alu or cr/oclu....wtf is up with you people). I ALSO try to avoid fics w the r slur in them, so if I rec one that has it lmk! I prob didn’t reread close enough :{

Enjoy! Bolds are favorites, the little blurbs are my anecdotes. There aren’t many long or slow burn fics bc no one writes any -__- I’ll write one someday dw.

riptide by nevermordor (1/1, 7k words, G)

Zoro and Luffy go on a cute date it’s cute. Sanji is tolerable in this fic! And there’s fighting. It’s adorable. Actually I was obsessed w it

Blueberry and Honey by rchcc122 (1/1, 2.5k, G)

Zoro and Nami are mlm/wlw solidarity and it’s beautiful. Theres a smidge of zos/anry but it gets killed. ALSO NAMIVIVI which is blessed!

Climb This Mountain Inside by stiley (1/1, 722, G)

Short and cute cuddle fic bc I’m a sucker.

unspeakable love by gadgetronic (1/1, 8200, T)

I wrote this fic ;) It’s a really long character study I did on Zoro for zolu week day 2, sacrifice.

Sunny Day by somefangirl (1/1, 1k, G)

Your average Luffy wants to have fun and Zoro is sleeping but complies anyway fic. Gay naps ensue.

[EDIT: somefangirl has a TON of other great zolu fics as well! Just go to their author page]

Bleed Like an Idiot by Augment (1/1, 14k, M)

I’ve read this like 3 times but it’s so good....I don’t normally like Zoro eats a devil fruit fics but I think this fic explores some cool themes and is really good! AND LONG which zolu fics never are.

Your words keep me awake and sing me to sleep by Mellifluous Nebulous (1/1, 2k, G)

Bit of a silly premise abt Zoro having a nightmare but I thought it was cute. So it goes on the list.

Tell Me If It Came True by chibimono (1/1, 1k, G)

CUTE Shooting star fic. There’s some weaboo japanese in it but we’ve all been through worse. tw for underage drinking I spose

Little Pink Flowers by StrawhatsAndDelibirds (1/1, 1k, G)

Based on a comic linked in the notes of the fic. The comic AND the fic are both cute!!

This Is Everything by LupusAmator (1/1, 8k, T)

This fic has a bit of an odd/poetic style so if ur not into that idt you’ll like it. I also think I didn’t finish it BUT I remember liking the parts of it I did read! So! Zoro character study sorta. I personally liked the style (sort of stream of consciousness?) and it’s gay sooo

Stand By Me by thricepiercedpirate (1/1, 600, T)

Classic nightmare and comfort fic! Luffy has the nightmare this time.

and i will learn for you by blueacorn (1/1, 2k, T)

GOD this fic fucks me up every time. Zoro-centric, sort of like a character study. Pretty short.

Gold-Tinted Days by needchocolatenow (1/1, 4k, T)

PURE ESSENCE OF ZOLU BLESSED FIC

Those Who Sink, Swim by whimsical_ramblings (1/1, 2.5k, G)

Zoro is an idiot the fic. Tries to save Luffy from drowning but his arm is broken

Morning Dove by Falkreath (1/1, 900, T)

Waking up and being gay.....very cute very wholesome

Sea and Stars by Stark_Black (1/1, 2.5k, M)

Fic that addresses Thriller Bark a bit and has some steamy stuff at the end. Not THAT explicit and it’s p brief but hey. Figured I needed at least one on this list.

Stolen Flowers by Zoete9 (1/1, 2k, T)

Funny prompt fic about Zoro thieving flowers from Luffy’s garden. The humor level is high I like it

Comfortable company by TJWrites (1/1, 3k, T)

Domestic fluff from heaven ft. exasperated Nami

mountain falls for the sea by gadgetronic (2/2, 1k, G)

This is my fic lol I wrote it ;) First chapter is a short cute thing about hand kisses, second chapter is a funny little humor story

#Zolu #luzo #one piece #I just went through like all 25 ao3 pages like THREE times to check over #but if I missed a fic I really liked I'll add it!!#fic recs

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yourtjwrites-blog · 7 years

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tjwrites

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angsty-pretty-things · 9 years

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christmas in paris

i’ve always thought holiday meant love.

family is absurd but people are not.

i am sitting by a fireplace

and she is not next to me.

i’ve always thought love meant beauty.

people can fit together like the ends of an easel.

people are not art

but she is.

i’ve always thought beauty meant paris.

twinkly lights and shining towers are supposed to guide you through life.

the streets are dirty and cold

and the lights all spell out her name.

i’ve always thought paris meant romance.

les champs-élysées, le vin, les fleurs.

they don’t sell wine by the glass and the daffodils,

once the color of her hair, have dried up and gone away.

i’ve always thought romance was travel.

seeing the pain, tasting the culture, breathing the sin.

i am booking one way flights

and i am tired of this city.

i’ve always thought travel meant escape.

leaving the work and the ruts and the hurt.

everywhere i go, the skies paint her face

and my expectations have failed me again.

#poem #candle scent #tjwrites

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

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Hide and Seek - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington drives past Nancy Wheeler’s house three times a week, at least. Words: 2.5k Warnings: Angst (hell yeah) and best friends!!<3 proof read too much then gave up so MISTAKES!!

ps reblogs and feedback etc are always encouraged!! ___________________

“What do you think?” Steve asked. You were sat on his bed, reading the back of some video tape Steve had rented out from Family Video at a reduced rate. He’d called and asked if you would drop by after work to help him with something.

“What do I think about what?” You looked up from the plastic case, head first, eyes second.

He was wearing a dark blue polo with a pair of light blue jeans. You laughed - not because he looked bad but because he looked the opposite. Who ever crafted your best friend had a sick sense of humour. He was tanned, toned, looked great in everything and the notion that he needed someone to tell him how good he looked was laughable. The sight of him made you feel drawn to him, like a delusional magnet.

“What?” The right side of his face scrunched in frustration. “What does that mean?” He slapped his hands to his thighs as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He sighed. “I’m meant to be seeing Nancy in about 30 minutes and you can’t look at me without laughing. I’m a joke. Is it that obvious?”

“Is what…what obvious?”

“Am I trying too hard?” He turned around to look at you. His umber eyes tinged with an insecurity you so rarely saw, that begged you to tell him how pretty he really looked.

“Shit, Steve, no. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.” You rested the tape in your lap, giving him your full attention. He’s not in your head, of course he doesn’t know what you are thinking and how badly you want to kiss him and tell him he is the most handsome person you have ever laid eyes on. “Honestly you look fine.” You settled on fine, because any other description would result in heartache. “Seriously.”

“So you just wanted me to doubt myself before I see Nancy.” He stood. “Thanks for that.”

“Hey.” You sensed the anger in his voice. “I don’t care who you’re seeing or why, thanks. You didn’t even mention Nancy until this point.”

“And now you’re getting angry.” He turned around and threw his arms up like you were proving his point, a point he had yet to make.

“Steve, what the fuck is this?”

“Admit you don’t think I should go see her, that’s what this is.”

“Wh-”

“Tell me how you really feel.” He sneered.

“Steve!” His arms folded and he would not relent. “Fine.” You rose to your feet and dropped the VHS on the bedspread. “Not that the laugh had anything to do with it, but if you want my opinion, no! I don’t think you should see her.” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides. “The ship has sailed, don’t you think?” Your shoulders were high and tense. “She and Byers may be in separate parts of the country but you can’t just wriggle your way back in, Harrington.” You scarcely called him Harrington, it made you think of how he used to be, and maybe he felt that in the way you spat it.

“Forget it.”

“Forget what?” Your irony laced laugh was hard for him to hear. “Forget that I care about you throwing yourself into a mess?! Fine, be my guest. I’ve forgotten you already.” Out his room and down the stairs, he said nothing to argue, nothing to stop you.

"What’s up?" Eddie looks like he's just woken up and you're pretty sure his shirt is on inside out and back to front. You don't know what possessed you, but a fight with your stupid best friend who you had a stupid crush on led you to Eddie’s front door.

"I'm not...uh...interrupting anything, am I?" You ask, suddenly nervous. He squints.

"You are standing at the threshold of Eddie the Freak Munson's trailer..and you think he's getting lucky?" He crosses his arms and leans against the frame of the door.

"He is lucky. He’s lucky he's not getting hit for referring to himself in third person." His eyebrows jump and he stands up straight, opening the door wider to let you in. "I just needed space." You slink in through the small opening before throwing yourself on the couch. He shuts the door and busies himself, looking through the cupboards, giving you all the time in the world to decide what you wanted to say and how much of it. "Did you know Steve drives past Nancy Wheeler's about three times a week?"

He stops his rummaging to look at you thoughtfully. In the light of the trailer, your damp, red eyes are more apparent. You swallow under his scrutiny. He exhales dramatically, sensing the size of the worry behind the question. "I can’t say I know a lot about Harrington. But doesn't he have a job? Is Wheeler's en route?" You screw your face up at him and he shrugs the shoulders his denim vest sits atop of before turning back to the cupboards.

"Eddie, when have you ever casually said en route?"

"Probablyyy,” He’s standing on his tip toes to reach the top shelf of a cupboard above the cooker. “Round about the same time you became casually interested in Steve Harrington's whereabouts in relation to Nancy Wheeler?" The casual nature of his retort makes you proud yet frustrated. He’s finally found what he was looking for. His metal lock box.

"He's meant to be my friend."

"Sweetness." The lock box hits the space on the table between you. "He can be your friend and still want to bone Wheeler." You roll your eyes and cover your face, if your facial expression didn't give it away, your exasperated actions would. “Hell, I’m your friend and wanna b-”

“LA LA LA LA LA.” Your fingers are in your ears, your eyes are closed. His muffled laughter is an intrusion on your senses.

Eddie’s hand on your shoulder makes you open your eyes. You frown and he gently pulls your hands away from your head.

“Sorry.” A tight lip smile. “That probably wasn’t the most helpful thing to say.”

“You think?”

“She’s gorgeous.” Eddie dreamt aloud. Your quizzical look pushed him for a name. He was reluctant but at the same time, there was a desperation to pour his heart out with pride about the woman of his affections. “Nancy Wheeler.” You nodded absent mindedly. “God, if I could have one night with h-”

“Not! Another! Word!” He smirks and considered himself warned, no more sex talk. However, he fails to notice it was really Nancy you didn’t want to hear about.

Every man and their best friend seemed to have a thing for Nancy Wheeler. Categorically you couldn’t deny she was gorgeous, strong and even intelligent but the high school experience had been tainted by how often she had come up in conversations with guys. Your eyes are watering and you are vaguely aware of the churning in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He says again. “You are forgetting the crucial fact that you haven’t told Steve how you feel. You can’t expect a guy like that to stay single forever in your honour if he doesn’t know you want him.” His big, warm hand is on your shoulder.

You don’t know how Steve couldn’t know.

“Do you think I’m…bullshit?” You could see the doubt cloud is eyes, the regret for asking you such a stupid question. “I-”

“Not in the slightest.” You answered quickly.

“That was a weird thing to ask.” His hands were in his hair, an action saved for times when he was unsure what to do with himself. He was fidgety when he was anxious, but it didn’t happen often.

“Steve.” Your hand settled in the v’s his arms created. You pulled down softly, urging him to leave his hair alone You were holding his hands. Every part of you insisted it was a normal, platonic, gesture to ground your friend but your heart yelled at you. You were too close. Your heart was too loud. You were hopeless. “You’re the least bullshit person I know.” You smiled softly, ignoring the disappointment your brain felt for you. You would deal with that guilt later.

“It’s just something Nance said once.” His hands lay in yours. You rubbed the backs of them with your thumbs and looked up at him, sadly. He’d loved Nancy. He really had. “She called me bullshit when she told me we were pretending like we were in love…when I realised I didn’t know what real love looked like any more.”

“At the risk of sounding cliché, I think love always looks different. It’s a shape shifter.” You said, and wished the world would swallow you up for such a strange comparison. But he’d smiled and let go of your hands just to hug you.

“You’ll have to enlighten me as to what I should be looking out for.” He chuckled. “If you know so much about love.”

You knew nothing of love in it’s general sense. Only in the way your heart faltered when he entered a room, when someone said his name, or when he said yours. Only in the way that his favourite song was now yours and every time you mentioned it his face lit up. Only in it’s Unrequited form.

You idolise every part of him and support him in every ridiculous venture. How could he not know.

“Well, you know what they say.”

“What does big feet have to do with this?” Eddie shakes his head and tries not to laugh.

“Men are clueless.” Your eyes widen to tell him he had just made the understatement of the year. “So why here again? Because you think Harrington wouldn’t think to look for you here?” You exhale and lie back.

“I don’t think. I know.” He rolls his eyes, so far they almost disappear under his fringe. He pulls you upright by your forearms.

“That’s horse shit.” He points his finger between your eyes and you pout. Something about Eddie Munson giving advice always makes you feel soft. The man’s barely been given a chance out in the real world but he knows a thing or two, even if some of it is merely theory yet to be executed. “Hide and seek.” You look perplexed. “Seventy Six. You went out of bounds, big time.” You blink. “He found you.” He gestures wildly with his hands. “We knew the rules, outside the radius, automatic disqualification. He had already won.” You look down. “He wanted to find you.” It feels like a lot to weigh Steve’s feelings on his actions as a child but you can’t help but feel hopeful. That is until Eddie summarises with a reductionist statement. “If he wants to find you, he will.”

You groan loudly.

“Eds, that was sounding so promising. Until the part where we are relying on Steve wanting anything to do with me.”

“Whatever.” He sits on a chair, opposite you, and sets about rolling a blunt. He knows he could do with taking the edge off, he imagines you might feel the same. Some time elapses. Could be three seconds, could be three minutes, but by the time it’s passed, the blunt has been lit.

“It’s not exactly whatever.” He takes a slow drag. “I’m competing with Nancy Wheeler.”

“Wait, wait…” He exhales the smoke, forcing it out from a corner of his mouth. “You actually think that’s a competition?” Your doubt and self belief crashes together like a pair of poetic symbols, causing you pause. You take the cigarette from him and attempt to smoke it but forget you’re not as much of a natural as Eddie and choke on the fumes a little. “That’s what your issue is?” He looks at you dumbfounded.

“Eddie, please don’t say it like I’m stupid. Even you said you wanna bone her.” You groan. “Of course that’s what this is, why else would I count how many times he drives past Wheeler’s?” Your arms fold over your heart defensively. He smirks and takes another hit.

“Men are clueless.” He echoes with a self aware smirk.

A knock on the trailer door causes a string of panicked events.

Eddie chokes. “Just- just a second!” He almost falls off the chair.

“Eddie, it’s me. Not the cops.” It was Steve. Your eyes meet Eddie’s. Yours full of fear. His full of I-told-you-so’s.

“That’s what they all say.” He laughs as you press a finger to your lips before ducking into his bedroom to take cover.

He opens the door with the blunt just out of sight, but when he can confirm it’s Steve, he brings it back to his lips, looking out behind him for nosey neighbours. “What can I do you for?” He almost sings. You’re thankful to hear that he is playing along, for now. Whilst you haven’t been in each others lives as often as when you were kids, you cherish his friendship. Even if he had the tendency to be a bit neurotic.

“You can…do you ever talk normally?”

“Not much.”

“Great. Glad we got that covered.” He murmurs and you smile, picturing the way he seems to narrate his inner thoughts. “If…I asked you where she was, and you knew…what would be the odds of you actually telling me?”

You hear Eddie pause, presumably for another smoke.

“What happened?”

“Steve the Idiot Harrington.”

“Tell me something I don’t know already.”

“Heyyy.” He argues weakly. Silence. You are dying to peak out. You hear Steve take a long breath.

“Steve, man. I know we run in different social circles. Well, you run in the social circle, I sit and smoke at the edge. Far be it for me to tell the King how-”

“Nah, nah, nope.” His nervous laugh makes you feel nervous too. It always has, you don’t know quite why. It gives you butterflies. “I am no King.” You smile softly. “I don’t want to be that guy. Haven’t wanted to be for a while.”

“Then act like it.”

Unspoken words sit heavy in the smoke of the trailer. The front door closes. There’s a bit of movement again before the bedroom door opens.

“He totally knew you were here.” You anticipated that to some extent.

“Why didn’t he say? Or come in? Or…”

Eddie sits on his bed.

“Respect, Sweetheart.” You throw your head back in frustration. “Hey!” He lightly slaps your forearm to get you to look back at him. “He respects that you don’t want to see him. He respects I won’t let him see you. It just means he knows where you are and that’s okay. From what I hear, Hawkin’s isn’t the safest place these days.”

You feel your emotions catch up with you again, the freshness of the fight rearing it’s ugly head, the idea that he wanted to make sure you were safe.

“Heyyyy.” He stands up and wraps his arms around you. He smells kind of musty and very much like weed, but you accept the comfort readily. “See, just like in hide and seek.”

“Eddie you’re so literal.”

“You doubted he would find you so that’s what I was making reference to...if you want proof he loves you there’s more than that.” You lightly slap his arm and step back from the embrace.

“Are you just saying that to be a good friend?”

“If I was just saying it I would not be a good friend.”

___________________

Part 2?????

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #tranger things x you #stranger things x reader #angst #fluff #is fluffy angst a thing #or angsty fluff #fic #writing #Steve Harrington #pls reblog and leave feedback!#eddie munson #best friend eddie #part 2 #?????#tjwrites

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

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haii i luv luv luv your writing !

if i may, could i request cuddling with steve ? ty babes !

Hi sweetness, I luv luv luv your ask!

I do not know how long this has been sitting here, for which I apologise, and I didn’t know how you wanted it laid out so I thought I would give you a few genres of Steve’s cuddles. All fluff! (More under the Read More).

Feedback and reblogs always appreciated!

Cuddling With Steve

When you are sad, he bows his head just a little to look up into your eyes. His facial expression mirrors elements of yours, his face muscles relaxed and his eyes wide. You find yourself falling into his eyes, tears spilling out of your own as he approaches you slowly. You let him hold you up and into his chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat and smell his amber and tobacco scent. His breath tickles your ear as he whispers soothing words and sounds. “Inhale.” He instructs softly. “Exhale.” You do it. He does it. Together your chests rise and fall in sync. You’re so close to him in every sense.

When you are too scared to ask, the look on your face gives you away. It happens more than you would care to admit. The man still gives you butterflies and it’s hard to contain the nerves he erupts in your soul. He looks you up and down, as if to tell you you know how to ask, and if you did, he would do it. He would do anything you asked him. Your embarrassment would be evident in your turned in body language and your eye contact avoidance. He would give in, reaching for your hand with a long, slow, reach, before pulling you in at your waist, keeping his torso leant slightly back so as to survey you with awe. His hand would fit perfectly against your cheek, holding you steady, locking your eyes to his. Tummies pressed together, wrinkles at the edge of your eyes, your smile would be untamed as he gave you exactly what you wanted without even a word. You know each other so well.

When you are excited, his energy matches yours. Your happiness is his happiness. He’ll open his arms where he stands, and you’ll run to him. Across the parking lot, through a store or from the other side of the living room; he stands with his feet firmly planted on the floor and a smile on his face to rival the brightness of the sun. When your bodies connect, he sways with the force and throws his arms around you instinctively. His excitement manifests itself in the flexing of his fingers over your back as he squeezes you.

When you have had a bad day, Steve’s eyes will watch you carefully before he makes his way to you. You’ll often be facing the other way, not wanting to worry him with your feelings. He can sense the way his earth shifts when you’ve had a bad day, he feels what you feel and he wants to help. He will never shun you for your feelings. He will snake his arms around your back and rest his head on your shoulder whilst you busy yourself with something unimportant. He will kiss across the plane of your collarbone at varying speeds and pressure, until you start to giggle at the way it tickles or the way that it sounds comical when his puckered lips meet your neck over and over. He’ll hum when he successfully gets the reaction he wants and laughs along with you right at your ear. He’ll ask if you want to talk about it before he makes any other movements. He’ll rock you gently from side to side, whether you decide you want to talk about it or not, it helps lull you into a restful mindspace. You’re not sure where it came from but you think it’s rooted in his love for children and the day you have a baby together will be the day, he won’t stop his arms from rocking. He’s almost practised his whole life for that moment.

When you are in bed, his hand softly rolls over your waist, his palm splaying over your skin as he pulls you in towards him. His hand wanders in a small circle, the hands never presumptuous, only soothing. You’ll often try to open your eyes, meet his gaze and indulge in pillow talk that solidifies your love for him. But you’ll often fail, your fluttering eyelids never opening as you fall into a slumber only induced by the safety of Steve Harrington that you have never found in anyone or anything else.

#tjwrites #tjhopesyoulikethistbh #im falling in love with steve again #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #self insert #fluff #fr

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

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Bodily Response - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 18 +

Summary: After a bad day, Eddie shows up at your house. He’s the remedy for bad days and you are eternally grateful he’s still alive. The past few months of playing pretend has finally come to a head.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, SMUT 18+ (both characters are approx 20), was proofread about 4 drafts ago - so don’t mind the inevitable mistakes.

A/N: This started out riddled with angst and pain and I think I have omitted a lot of it - I wanted this to be somewhat enjoyable!!! There are some traces of it but I hope it does nothing to detract from the rest of it.

Feedback/reblogs/etc are always appreciated!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve not long come home from another meaningless day at The Hawkins Post when the doorbell sounds. The sound permeates through your existing headache and you almost convince yourself to ignore the cold caller until you hear the unmistakable sound of Eddie’s whistling through the door.

You instinctively check your appearance in the reflection of your television set and wrinkle your nose. Something about the ‘properness’ of your outfit makes you feel unlike yourself. Your hair had been scraped back in a claw clip since seven o’clock this morning, your makeup sinking into your pores since about ten minutes after that. Your black skirt suit had suffocated your body and you were beginning to feel like an imposter, in every sense.

So much had unfolded over the past few months that working an office job in the heart of Hawkins, in the year of ‘86, felt like playing pretend. A game of make believe that everyone was taking part in. You decide to open the door; if anyone had the power to bring you back to reality, it was Eddie.

When you open the front door, Eddie shoots up straight where he stands. A smile spreads across your face easily, like melting butter on toast. “Thought I was going to have to send out a search party!” He jests. A beat passes as he registers what you’re wearing. You prepare yourself for a barrage of mockery but he says nothing. His facial expression falters slightly before he clears his throat. “I should really consider my career path if this is what they wear in offices these days.”

You wonder if he really would work in an office. He seems quite content with his job at the music shop, you’re not sure if it’s a career path as such, but he seems happy. More than anything, he is biding his time until Corroded Coffin makes it big.

Never one to linger on the implications of his words, Eddie rushes to produce a tape from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “As…uh…promised.” He hands it to you and pushes his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Van Halen.” He reminds you. “I recommend track six.” You squint at the track list. Pretty Woman.

Your fingers flex around the tape as it settles there. A manifestation of the reality you resided in. The reality where Eddie Munson lives.

At the start of the year, Eddie told you he would lend you his favourite tape. He insisted that you’d love them. You took him up on the offer but things quickly fell apart after that.

In the midst of the chaos, you made Eddie promise to make it out so you could listen to that tape. And he did promise.

“Are you okay?” He asks, noticing a shift in you. You had waited weeks for someone to ask you and now that they have, you can’t bring yourself to reply truthfully. In part, some of that is to do with who is asking. You don’t want to bring your petty troubles to him, as understanding as he surely could be. The moment comes and goes as you nod your head. "You sure?" He feeds you another opportunity to confess. His words are soft and his gaze is softer still. Staring into his eyes you feel yourself relax into the tears that start to fall from your own. “Come here.” He draws you into a soft, slow hold. His palms run up and down your back and you stand like that for a while, relishing the quietness. "You wanna sit down?" You hug him tighter in protest and when he grunts in pain you leap backwards with fear.

Maybe you were doing so well at playing pretend you were starting to believe it. Eddie’s wounds on his stomach from the Upside Down are by no means fresh, but they certainly haven’t healed completely, much like the mental ones.

A fresh new sob breaks with an apology, scratching at your throat.

"You didn't mean to." He smiles with tenderness and envelopes you in another hug, gentler this time, if it were possible. "Unless you did and you're a total sadist."

You’re too busy burying your face in his t-shirt to laugh at his joke. Thoughts of your bad day at work are replaced with thoughts of Eddie in the Upside Down. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes, not wanting to consider the alternative to this moment right here. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

His attentiveness is odd but welcome. You feel yourself wilt into his arms as he takes control, shuts up the house and ushers you to bed. Eddie isn’t always so domesticated and vulnerable, but you have a feeling he understands exactly what’s going through your mind.

And when he is in your room, he unclips your hair from its tightly wound position, massaging your head as he goes. You groan at the relief and he arranges your hair on your head as it would normally sit, before swiping the tape back into his possession and placing it on your bedside table with the clip.

You shrug off your blazer, which Eddie takes from you willingly. He’s been in your room a handful of times but certainly doesn’t know where the clothes are kept. So whilst he's occupied with that, you slip off your pencil skirt and sidle into bed.

When he spins back around, you hope that the look in your eyes conveys that you don't want to be alone and perhaps it does the trick. "Do you invite all metal heads to bed like this?" He takes off his shoes, his vest and jacket before he slips between the covers and pulls them up over your bodies. You find yourself gravitating towards him. Something tentative in your movements despite the fact you had been hugging not five minutes ago. Hugging lying down felt different.

"Only the charming ones." You murmur as you hide into his chest. He hums in question as he wraps his arms around your back. "I only invite the charming metal heads to bed."

"Well, now it’s you that’s charming me." He speaks into your hair.

"Lucky you."

You’re quiet for some time.

“Does it still hurt?” You ask.

"It's okay. Just a bit of a dull ache unless I catch it on something and it hurts like a motherfucker."

"Or someone squeezes you.” You lament. “Can I see?" You don’t know why you ask. He doesn’t know why you ask. But he complies.

"Sure." He shifts backwards before he sits up and takes off his shirt easily. He wonders what you’re thinking. "What do you make of it, doc?" He lies down on his back and looks down at his stomach. You lean up onto one arm to get a good look.

"Makes me feel silly for crying over a bad day…"

"Don't." He reaches up and with the angle of his elbow he can only just brush the side of your head. "You're allowed to be sad." He gives your head a little scratch in a similar fashion to moments before.

"I'm happy…that you're alive, if that counts."

"It does." He chuckles, dropping his hand onto his chest. The scars still bear a pinkish hue. He spots your fixation. "Gnarly right?"

You stare at the wounds with worry and remark that it should have been you. Eddie insists there is no good reason to have wished it was you, besides, he had the Babes lining up in sympathy, there’s no way he would have given that up. "What benefit would there possibly be for you to have been bit instead?" He raises an eyebrow.

"So you wouldn't be hurting." You peer closely and lay a hand on his stomach, causing him to flinch. "Sorry."

"Hey, stop with the Sorry’s. This is the second one today." He speaks through the strangeness of your hand on his skin like this. “You’re good.”

“You don’t mind me touching it?”

“No.” He laughs. “Touch to your heart’s content.” You feel him watching as you trace your fingers over his pale skin, in between the scars like a maze game, your eyes welling up again. “Hey.” He captures your hand. “You can only touch if you promise not to cry. My self esteem can only take so much.” It’s a small laugh, barely a chuckle. It tells you all that you need to know. He’s thinking about it too. You suppose, how could he not?

Your hand stays in his grip whilst the memories move quickly through your mind. Eddie squeezes your wrist gently to bring your attention back to him. "I said no crying." You try a smile, it feels uncomfortable, too tight on your face. You let it drop.

“Why did you do it?” He gently places your hand down by your side.

“You had more to live for.”

“What?! Eddie, be serious.” You try to be stern. His stare makes it impossible.

“I am being serious. Don’t be mad at me. Not now.” His eyes are smiling.

You bow down and kiss at the edge of the scars. He's a little taken aback, his head leaning back into the give of the pillow beneath his locks. "What are you doing?" You don’t answer because you don’t really know. You just want to show him that you are thankful he’s still around, without saying too much. "Quit it, punk." His voice is a little strained, but not angry. You giggle. "I will not be held accountable for my bodily reaction to what you're doing right now." He mumbles. Your hands are grazing his side, your breath fans over the trail your lips leave. You realise kissing in this region isn't the most platonic thing you've ever done. Yet you kiss again. He groans. "Why are you doing that? Jesus H Christ." He's making no move to stop you. You're curious to see how far this can go. You shrug in what you hope is a demure and casual fashion. He wets his bottom lip and breathes slowly. His bodily reaction is certainly starting to show.

You feel pleased with yourself and you certainly must look as though you are. "You wouldn’t be so smug if you were in my position." You shake your head defiantly. "I say we test that theory." He peels back the covers and blinks rapidly when he sees you aren’t wearing the skirt he could have sworn you were wearing earlier. He composes himself quickly. He pushes up the shirt to below your breasts, leaving your stomach bare.

“Am I meant to close my eyes here or-” Eddie gets started quickly, a kiss to the right of your belly button.

“It doesn’t matter.” He chuckles. He moves to the left side now. You breathe out. “All good?”

You mutter back something indistinguishable.

He kisses lower, completing his testing triangle of terror. The lower kiss undeniably snaps whatever semblance of composure you have. He kisses again, for longer. You think you feel his tongue this time and you gasp. You feel him smile at your stomach and he plants another kiss.

"Fuck."

"Fuck?" He sits up, shuffling a little to navigate the erection that had grown. "I imagine if you had a dick, it'd be hard right now too." He sits back with an attractively pleased expression.

“Eddie.” You try to speak with even breaths. He hums. “You know…when a woman is turned on, her body does its own equivalent thing?” You chuckle as he rolls his eyes and blushes. Of course he wasn’t entertaining the idea that you would actually be turned on.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?” He shrugs in answer. “Why don’t you find out?” His eyes widen. “For research.” He moves forward and his right hand comes achingly close to the edge of your panties.Your stomach is twisting in agonising anticipation.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s only fair.”

“You could just te-”

“Eddie. Please.”

His palm flat to your thigh, he slides the tips of his fingers up under the trim of your underwear. He watches between your legs intently. His fingers splay slowly over you until he makes contact with the wetness between your folds. You inhale deeply and he looks up at you again. Your smile is shy but honest.

“That’s…” His fingers are still moving, spreading your arousal over yourself, watching as your brow creases and softens again as he catches your clit. “That’s some reaction.” He leans down, keeping eye contact, and kisses your stomach again.

You whine and wriggle your legs.

“Hey, you had your fun.” Your argument is weak. You close your eyes as you succumb to the feeling of his lips and his fingers.

“Did I?.” He licks your stomach again, like he did before. “I think we need to conduct the test again.” You feel the air from his laugh on your belly.

“Stop being smart, Munson.” One of his fingers almost breaches your cunt but he withdraws almost as soon as he had pushed forward. He sits up and uses the same hand to smooth across your stomach and under your shirt.

He moves his hands over your body, smiling at every shiver and every breath. You watch him just as intently as he watches you. You decide you love seeing him like this.

“How much of this is just bodily reaction?” He whispers across your admiration. A rather bold proposition from the mouth of your best friend.

“Eddie.” He loves it when you say his name. “It’s you.” Your voice is laden with desire and hurt, an accumulation of the months that had led up to this moment. “Of course it’s you. It’s always fuckin’ you.” He waits, as if he’s made this part up in his mind. “Jesus, fuck, I keep thinking what would have happened if you’d have died and it won’t leave my mind and sometimes I can’t sleep when I think-” He quickly captures your lips in an earth-shattering, sentence-halting kiss. His hands spread either side of your head, you feel supported. You feel safe.

You cry into the kiss. You don’t mean to, but you’re ablaze with want, with feeling.

This was about way more than the silly game of teasing. You hope that’s clear to Eddie.

“Oh man. I do not know what I would have done if you’d said otherwise.” He kisses at your neck now. “Please.” Kiss. “Can I take this off?” He pulls at the shirt and kisses again.

It doesn’t take long for you to both be undressed, chests heaving, skin already aglow. “Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable.” Your thoughts emulate his own as you can’t stop your eyes travelling to his cock. You don’t know why you’d never considered what it would look like, but now you knew you were missing out.

“Don’t bring Jesus into this.” You roll your eyes. “Please just-” Before you can finish your sentence, you feel a pressure at your opening, just a gentle prod of his tip.

“Please what, Sweetheart?” The pet name is unexpected and borders sarcastic, but the way it falls from his lips, with his cock between your legs and his hand hovering over your clit, you think you might burst.

“Please put it in, Eds.”

“When you put it like that…” He drawls, inching in.

“Eddie, so help me God, this might be the last time you ever penetrate another woman if you d-” He snaps his hips forward, finally flush to your body. The moan rips through you loudly and Eddie can’t help but moan too.

“Hey now,” He utters into your ear quietly. “Don’t be talking about other women when you’re the one I’m buried eight inches deep in.” The noise you make in response is unholy and gives Eddie a kick. As his best friend, you wanted to make fun of his self proclaimed eight inches, as the woman on the receiving end of said eight inches, you couldn’t say a word.

#tjwrites #fluff #smut #minor angst #but no minors please #minors dni #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #idk anymore #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

Text

Welcome to Shellfire - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Plus Sized)

Summary: Eddie spills hot chocolate on your blouse, and the quest to find you something to wear leads to the initiation into Shellfire. Words: 1.4 k Warnings: Swearing, FLUFF, suggestiveness, friends to lovers (not that thats a warning exactly??)

a/n: plus sized reader bc !!! bc i said so !!! i’ve read this over and over again for like a month, added and taken away because i wasn’t sure what i wanted it to be - but here it is!! whatever it is!! reblogs and feedback all welcome! <3 __________________________________________

"Shit!”

It was a Saturday night at Eddie’s and he had offered to make you a hot chocolate, but with his haste and trademark enthusiasm, he spilled the aptly named drink down your front.

"F-”

“Take it off now, before it burns you,” he points at your blouse and puts down the offending mug, rings clanking against the porcelain, “I’ll find you something you can wear.” He gestures loosely into the air as he thinks.

“Eddie.” You groan. “Be serious.” In all the years you had known Eddie, you had never been able to borrow any of his clothes. You were bigger than Eddie. He scarcely acknowledged it but you were hyper aware of it, especially in a scenario such as this. “Not a single one of your shirts will fit me.” You mumble.

“Off. Now.” Those two words trickle down your spine deliciously, and whilst you can feel the hot drink permeating through the fibres of the shirt and onto your skin, you wonder if some part of the heat you're experiencing is due to Eddie’s insistence that you undress.

“Fine.”

You drag your shirt up from the bottom: your head clumsily knocking against the inside of your elbows like a human pinball machine. It probably wasn’t the most seductive way to shed an item of clothing but it isn’t really the time or place.. With your blouse off and in your hands, you hold it out. Part shield, part offering.

You realise you can't recall the last time you had your shirt off in someone else's company and your skin starts to tingle. You swallow back what feels like a large, dry, jawbreaker. The sweet suspense lingering on your tongue, almost suffocating you.

Eddie's eyes haven't left yours for what feels like minutes and you almost believe you’ve gained the ability to freeze time since you took your shirt off. That is until Eddie clears his throat and takes the shirt from you, throwing it into the nearby kitchen sink.

“Shower room. Now. Five minutes under cold water.”

“Do you have a-” He pushes you into the bathroom and shuts the door behind you. “Towel?”

“Yeah, yeah. Shower!”

You weren’t totally surprised that Eddie had such a protective streak. From the age of eight he had been something of a protector. He would tell you he was your knight in shining armour and you would remind him he was your jester in a denim vest.

Eddie spends the next five minutes, unbeknownst to you, trying to find the cleanest, softest towel in his possession and a shirt of his that you won’t mind wearing. He skips over those that are unwashed and those that are too tight even on him, keeping in mind your earlier hesitation.

He knocks at the door as you finish rinsing your hair and step out of the shower, a little clumsily, trying not to knock anything off the shelves.

”Hold on!”

“My eyes are covered.” He shouts from outside the shower room. You flounder a little with nothing to cover yourself, but open the door slightly to see his left hand clamped over his eyes with a towel and t-shirt folded neatly in his right. You smile softly, your heart aching at the sickly sweet sight. “Here.” He moves his right hand forward, vaguely in the direction of the door and you sneak your arms out of the gap to grab them, pulling the door shut as quickly as you can.

“Thanks Ed.” Behind the bathroom door, you trace your fingers over the design. The acrylic lettering makes a soft, muted scratching sound under your fingertips. You unfold it and can’t help the smile drawing itself on your lips. “Shellfire Club?” You giggle.

“It’s one of the misprints from the first batch of the Hellfire Shirts.” You can picture the guilt in his delightful brown eyes baring into the door between you.

“I love it.” You bring it up to your chest and hug it, you feel foolish but happy, a part of Eddie all for your own.

Your hair is still damp from your shower as you lay beside Eddie on top of his bed sheets.You feel as though you could fall asleep at any moment, the mere sound of his breathing enough to lull you into a trance. This was a frequent weekend occurrence. You would spend hours together until you inevitably could no longer fight off sleep and he would whisk you away home. You’re about to tell Eddie you should probably call it a night when he speaks up.

“Does it hurt?”

"Hmm?" Your eyes open sleepily and you lift your head off the pillow to adjust your position.

"Your chest." The scalded skin is of no concern to you now. It’s what’s inside your chest. That’s where it hurts.

“No, I…I don’t think so.”

"Can I look?” Your face is undoubtedly a picture. “Come on, I've seen you shirtless once today already. What's once more between friends?" He laughs.

“Alright, alright. Easy tiger.” You push yourself up to a seated position with your legs crossed and take your shirt off for the second time today in front of Eddie.

He pauses and frowns. You try to get a look at it yourself but your perspective is wrong. He sits up in front of you on his knees.

"Can I touch it?” Your own hands are perfectly capable of gauging your skin’s temperature, but you let Eddie do as he wishes. "It looks a little agitated..." He gingerly lifts his hand out of his lap and touches the backs of fingers to the top of your chest. He generally only showed such tenderness to animals.

When you inhale as he makes contact. He mistakes it for pain and withdraws. "Sorry." In a bid to avoid eye contact his eyes drop to your chest. You swallow. “I thought you said it didn't hurt?”

"Thanks for the shirt." You mumble.

"You mean the one that you're not wearing? No problem." He chuckles. You try to find the shirt with your fingertips with a flash of fear. His hand clasps around your wrist weakly, like one of those rigged claw machines on a long forgotten pier. "You don't have to cover up." You freeze as the words tumble over you along with their implications. "I don't mean....I mean...." He fumbles, dropping your wrist and finding your shirt. "Here."

You take it from him gently.

"What did you mean?" He seems to notice you've stopped rushing to put clothes back on.

He shakes his head and his beautiful curls follow a moment behind. Your trembling hand drops the t-shirt and reverses the previous scenario, your hand wrapped around his wrist.

His hand is limp as he lets you take the lead, and you put his hand on your chest and hold it there. All in an innocent act to let him feel the potential burn. However, the look on Eddie’s face conveys a realisation in its placement. Right over your heart, he feels it ricochet off your ribcage. His hand is fixed, as is his smile.

To start with, he watches his hand and doesn't move it for a few beats. You remove your own hand and look at him intently. He lifts his eyes to yours again and you feel his fingers drag lightly over your chest. Downwards. His stare never falters as his thumb smooths down the valley of your breasts. His cool, soft fingers are tantalising

“How does it feel?” He asks.

“Cold.” You speak quietly.

“I meant-” He puts his hand back in his lap quietly.

“You’re having trouble with what you mean, Mr Munson.”

“You appear to have that effect on me.” He laughs.

“You can only imagine the one you have on me if I’m sitting here without clothes on.” His gaze is soft and knowing before he leans in a fraction. “Kiss me, Eddie. Please.”

And he does.

It’s warm and soft and lingering and he smells like hot chocolate. Maybe he even tastes like it. Your smile grows so wide you have to break apart. A shyness creeps over you and joy fills Eddie’s lungs. Your eyes fall to the t-shirt again as your fingers dance over that lettering with a fond feeling.

“Welcome to Shellfire.” Eddie says, bringing your chin up to look at him before he leans in for another kiss. This was an initiation you could get behind.

#tjwrites #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #stranger things fic #fic #fluff #plus sized reader

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

Text

Lovesick - Steve Harrington x Reader

I don’t think there were any pronouns on this little drabble but I did infer reader had long hair, so, take from that what you will. Enjoyed trying to set the scene for this with the music. I definitely feel like I could do more of these.

Words: 641 Warnings: Sick

Summary: Your stomach is a little unsettled in Steve’s company and your uncertain how much of that is down to his driving and how much is down to your feelings for him.

Like nearly everyone else you knew, you harboured an unbearable crush for Steve Harrington.

The Hawkins Heartthrob, Class Clown.

Your best friend.

You so desperately wished you didn’t, but God had other plans. He wanted to see you suffer when Steve spoke to other girls and crash and burn when he threw you a flirty wink.

Everybody Wants to Rule the World is permeating through the airwaves as Steve drives with the windows down, and his foot on the gas. You don’t know where your going but you trust Steve entirely, as always. He could be driving you off the edge of the earth and you would still go willingly. You cast a glance his way and smile. The sight of him totally wrapped up in the speed and sound makes your heart swell. He doesn’t even notice you looking at him. Something about the song makes you want to fall in love. Maybe you already are.

As if punctuating that very thought, you spin your head back, front and centre. You close your eyes. Nausea hits you and this Steve notices. “Hey?” He looks over and you see the crease of concern in his brow briefly before his eyes are back on the road. “Need me to pull over?” He turns the music down and puts an arm around the back of your seat. You think you’re going to pass out. You turn your neck and your eyes flutter between his strong arm and concerned face.

“Please.” You swallow.

At the next available spot, Steve pulls over. And before he can speak, you swiftly exit the car.

“You didn’t tell me you get car sick.” He’s holding your hair back off your face as you throw up at the side of the road and every bone in your body aches with shame.

“I didn’t know I did.” You groan. You knew you sometimes got a little queasy but, truth be told, you still weren’t sure this was purely down to car sickness. Something told you it was related to the dreamboat in denim that was saving you from throwing up all over your hair that you spent way too long on that morning. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans.” You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. It was a valiant attempt at pretending the last 30 seconds hadn’t happened.

“You didn’t ruin anything, you idiot.” He smiles. “You missed a bit.” He gestures to the side of your mouth and your hands fly to your face in a futile attempt to hide with a squeal. “Hey, hey.” He reaches for your arms and pulls them down gently. “I’m joking. And God knows I have done worse. And looked worse too.” His thumbs rub back and forth over your skin and you start to feel faint again.

“I doubt it.” You whisper.

“Shall we stand out here for a bit?” You nod. The tape in the car turns over to True by Spandau Ballet. His hands slide naturally into your own and you feel your face getting hot. “Okay. Deal.” He moves your hands to around the back of his neck and places his hands on your hips. There’s a non-committal swaying to the love song that sets your nerves ablaze. “You okay?” He asks, drawing you closer. You feel his breath on your skin and you can only nod weakly. “Can I kiss you?” You nod again, slightly dumbstruck. He leans in and places a soft kiss against your lips. You draw back slowly and blink.

“I thought you would be a lot rougher.” You speak, finally.

“So you’ve thought about it?” He winks and you roll your eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Me too.”

“Wow, you actually thought about something before doing it?”

“I know.” He squeezes your hips. “Just thought there would be less sick.” He smirks.

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things #no spoilers #predominantly because i havent seen it #fluff #cute #steve harrington #tw sick #tjwrites

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

Note

I don't have anything super specific in mind (I'm so sorry I realize that's not very helpful) but maybe something mostly fluffy with just a little bit of angst for Eddie? Like maybe they broke up a while ago and (this is an Eddie Survives kind of universe) they're able to reunite/check on each other in the aftermath of the "earthquake" in Hawkins? Or something else! I just love your writing. <3

Thank you for your request angel! No matter how vague, I welcome it. Here it is! Eddie surviving and reuniting with his ex in an unfortunate set of circumstances!! 1.3k of mentions of blood, fluff and a bit of angsty regret <3

The earth beneath you vibrates and it’s loud. It would have been loud enough to wake you had you not already been awake, plagued by the rumours that your gentle, sweet ex-boyfriend, Eddie, had been accused of murder.

Murders. Plural.

You scramble out of bed in a panic, unsteady on your feet as the floor continues to move, to look out of the window. The sky is unusually red, illuminating the ground below and the cracks that have driven through it. You’re clinging onto the window frame with fear and confusion. You would pinch yourself if you could only bring yourself to move.

You call out for your parents. The scream brings them to you in an equal panic. They had heard it all too, felt it. They wrap your arms around you as your close your eyes and cry with fear. It feels like forever passes before the sound stops. Before the earth stops shaking.

But it doesn’t take long for reporters to be on scene and home television sets to flood with the scenes of the devastation across Hawkins. Tired families, including your own, gather around the screen with baited breath. The news tallies up the number of bodies on air and your heart sinks. Your mother is crying and you barely hear the mention of his name amongst the disaster. Eddie Munson.

He has gone missing but of course, everyone thinks he’s the one responsible. Your head hurts. Your heart hurts.

You push yourself up from the couch and run to the phone, your legs carrying you without thought, and dial his number. The dull dial tone sounds for some time before you hang up the receiver.

You hadn’t called Eddie in years. Even if he had answered, what would you have said in a situation like this over the phone?

Before you know it, your parents have gone back to bed, overwrought with exhaustion and you’re running through the dawn as it breaks. Towards Hawkins High School and beyond, to the clearing in the trees, with the picnic benches.

By some ridiculous miracle, there he sits. On a picnic bench in his high school grounds. Your eyes fill with tears. “Hey.” Your voice shakes. You’re unsteady and you’re scared. He looks rougher around the edges than he used to. You wonder if that’s a recent thing or a result of the earthquake. He looks like he might have been injured. He looks up at you, eyes drawn with fear.

But when he sees you, the fear disappears. “Hi.” He smiles and you wonder how, in the face of everything, he could bless you with such a sight. You attempt a tentative smile back as the emotion ripping through you says more than your words ever can.

Words sit at the tip of your tongue. You look at him and all the years apart fall away. “If I didn’t know you better, I would think you missed me with that look on your face.” He mumbles a little, not as confident in himself as he once was, despite what he has endured.

“Eddie.” It’s a whisper he barely catches, but a small twitch in his facial expression gives him away. “What’s going on?” You walk towards him slowly, the gap between you too big.

“I wish I could explain.”

“They say you killed people.” The words barely make it out of your mouth. So unnatural in their own regard, never mind attached to the puppy eyed Eddie who sits before you. His face looks as through he’s been in a fight. A pang of hurt reverberates through your cold body, like a strum of one of Eddie’s guitars.

“They do say that.” He looks down at the decaying bench. “Do you…believe them?” You sit down on the other side of the bench and hold his hands.

“Would I be here if I did?” He relaxes and watches as you run your thumbs over his rings, like you used to when you were an item.

“Do any of them have a particular meaning?” You cocked your head as you looked at them with curiosity. He chuckled.

“They’re just rings, Princess.” He was almost mocking you, but not entirely.

“That doesn’t mean they don’t have meaning.” You looked up at him and stuck your tongue out. “My necklace.” You put a hand on it. “You got it for me and I will never stop wearing it. It’s meaning is that I love you.”

“I think it means that I love you.” He corrected affectionately.

“Sure, sure.” You dismissed. “But I wear it because of the love it symbolises. And I just wondered if this lovely skull was in memoriam of your ability to lighten up.” You rolled your eyes and he caught your lips with a kiss.

“Well there is one.” He kissed your cheek, then your brow. “This one.” He showed you the one with the cross and four skulls. “It’s nothing visually to do with anything in my life, but, I bought it the day I asked you on a date.” He bit his lip, you could tell he felt embarrassed. One hand still clinging to his, you took your free hand and cupped his face. “I told myself I could get it if I grew a pair and actually asked you out.” He leant into your hand.

“And you did.”

“And I did.” He turned and kissed the inside of your palm and you sighed happily before returning it to hold his hand once more.

“They think Hellfire is a satanic cult.” You roll your eyes at what he says. People could never just leave him alone.

“The day this town gets it’s head out of the past is the day nerds can walk freely among us.” You almost growl and he snickers. You clamp your lips shut, afraid to laugh.

“I don’t know that you’ll believe me.” He’s thinking as he takes control of the hand-holding. Your hands in his, where they belong, sat atop the ring he bought, the day he asked you out. “But please know it’s not like I’m high or-”

“Eddie. I don’t think that. But it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“Well, when you hear this it might.” His eyes are locked on yours.

“Are you hurt?” Your awareness of his slow movements and rugged appearance catching up with you. He shakes his head and laughs a little.

“I’m alive. That’s what counts.” He swallows. “Why did you come find me?” He frowns. “I knew it couldn’t be true.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Well, there’s certainly stuff you need to know. Hawkins isn’t safe. And it’s nothing to do with my cult.” You giggle. “But I may have to leave. I cant stay.” He squeezes your hands. “I know this is totally the wrong time.” You feel it. “But did you ever think…do you think…”

“All the time.”

“Are you coming to my graduation?” You asked, taking a sip from a bottle Eddie had handed to you. He shook his head. “What?” You recoiled slightly, with a laugh, thinking it was some shitty joke.

“I think…I think we should break up.”

“What?!” You repeated yourself.

“I’m not graduating. We know that.”

“Yeah but you coul-”

“I think it’s the perfect time to put the nail in the coffin. You’re going places, that’s obvious.” He gestured to you in a way that was meant to compliment you but you couldn’t help but overlook that with the knowledge he was ending things for such a superficial reason. “I’m not. Guarantee as much as I try, I’ll fail and fail again. I am destined to fail. We are destined to fail.”

“I thought of you all the time.” You confess. “You said I was going places but suddenly I didn’t want to.”

“Goddamn it. Why did I try and be a hero?” He rolls his eyes and starts laughing before he winces and clutches at his side.

“What! What happened, Eddie?”

“Funnily enough, I tried to be a hero.”

“God Eddie, do you never learn?” You smile and pull him towards you by the lapels of his leather jacket. “So where are we running to?” You whisper against his lips.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #request #fluff #angst #love #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #in a world we all crave #this is canon now #eddie munson fandom #exes that very much still love eachother #tjwrites

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

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Leave me Breathless - Fem Reader x Steve Harrington (MINORS DNI)

Summary: Steve finds himself in trouble and refuses to accept that anyone would put themselves in danger for him. Words: 2.4k Warnings: swearing, angst, p in v MINORS DNI , sickly sweet fluff! season 4 spoilers!!! A/N: Yes the referenced song is nothing to do with the 80s but it worked, okay? Please reblog, leave feedback, send requests, all the fun stuff and have a great day!

lil thank you to @mrshipsmcgee for listening to me ramble about this and providing inspiration!! <3 ________________________________

The water of Lover’s Lake laps at the sides of the decrepit boat, rumbling and rolling as you cling on to the edge. “Don’t go down there.” You plead with Steve. “Not alone.” The second part of your request is quieter than the first, barely audible above the sound of the water, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. You don’t know exactly what you meant by that but you couldn’t bear the thought of him going down there on his own.

“I’ll be fine.” He dismisses, and whilst you want to believe him, you’re struck with a quiet fear.

Steve takes off his shoes and his socks before he stands up and strips off his sweater. You look away. He hands Nancy his sweater with a strained smile and she passes him the torch.

“Please don’t be stupid.” She warns.

“See you on the other side.” The humour of his words failed to reach you, they drop into the water with him as he dives in.

You hold your breath in sympathy, eyes trained on the spot where he went in. You jump slightly as a cold, stray hand clutches yours. It’s Nancy’s. Nancy, like Robin, is accustomed to watching Steve throw himself into danger. You, however, are not.

“Breathe.” She instructs, with a firm squeeze of your hand, and you release a long, drawn out breath.

It’s painfully obvious to everyone on the boat that you are in love with Steve Harrington, except maybe to you (and Steve). You just can’t seem to put a finger on it because right now, because the sickness is nerves alone, right? Nothing to do with how much you wished it was anyone else but him down there in case things went wrong.

“Is anyone counting how long he’s been down there?”

“Thirty seconds.” Robin answers, deadpan, staring at the watery veil. You nod and chew on your lip before the longest minute of your life is punctuated by the crackling of the on board walkie.

Your head turns towards the shoreline. Lights.

“Shit.” You murmur, someone’s here. Nancy sees the lights too.

“Sixty seconds.”

“We need to go.” She lets go of your hand and reaches for the walkie, holding down the button. “Please tell me you guys are out of sight.” She grits her teeth. The elongated seconds feel like crawling through mud.

“Not exactly.” Dustin’s breathless voice fuzzes through the airwaves and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Eddie’s…the boathouse,” The connection breaks off. “we….running.”

“Ninety seconds.” Robin interjects.

“We’re trying to get away from the lake.” Lucas speaks over the walkie now. “You gu…to lay low and get out the-” The connection cuts off and your heart sinks. Nancy throws the walkie to the bottom of the boat. These kids are putting their necks on the line. These kids are braver than you’ll ever be.

The thought turns over in your head, like a hot pebble in a wet palm, as you glance between your boat fellows, the walkie and the water. You close your eyes and inhale deeply through your nose. Your body is vibrating with fear but the urge to act is overwhelming.

“One hundred twenty seconds and counting.”

“We need-” Nancy starts, but the rest of her words fall away as you throw yourself over the side of the boat, leaving Steve’s sweater in the bottom of the boat with the walkie.

You hear the muted calls of your name and the sound of the boat rocking as you kick your legs out under the water, angling yourself downwards. A too-slow torpedo through murky waters. It’s dark, but you can make out the glowing red gate and Steve desperately fighting to get away from it.

He is clutching at the plants of the riverbed, trying to wrench himself out of the grasp of some invisible force. Your arms and legs move faster to get to him.

The look in his eyes tells you he’s not happy you’re down there. But it’s too late for that. You grip his forearms and anchor your feet to the gravelly floor, the strength of the force behind him is enough to steady yourself. You heave against your opponent, trying not to lose too much air from your lungs.

Something lapses in the pull from the other side. You seize the opportunity to wrangle Steve from the grip of the Upside Down and pull him out of the gate. With all your combined strength, Steve is out of harms way and back in your arms. Fuelled by fear and exhaustion, you drag yourselves to the surface.

When you breach the water, up into the air, you both gasp for breath, panicked and oxygen starved. Steve’s fingers are wrapped around the boats edge as he coughs up water and you use one of your own arms to support him upright.

The lights are gone. The lake looks deserted. You’re relieved.

At Robin’s house, you sit cross legged on the kitchen chair as she dries your hair gently with a towel. You’re eyes are heavy and your chest aches. Eddie sits in the corner of the room nursing something alcoholic and Steve had slammed the bathroom door behind him some 20 minutes ago. He said he needed to be alone.

“He’ll get over it.” Eddie speaks for the first time. He smiles sympathetically. Going through a lot himself, it touches you that he thinks to acknowledge your feelings at all.

“Will he?”

“I guess if it were me, I’d feel the same.” He contemplates.

“You like him, don’t you?” Robin asks and you nod meekly. She stops drying your hair to squat down in front of you. She hands you the towel. “Here, finish up your hair and I’ll find you something dry to put on.”

“What, that’s it? No mockery of my innermost feelings?” She shakes her head with a smile.

“Even if I didn’t already know-”

“You already knew?!”

“You just needed to admit it to yourself.” She winks and stands back up, heading to the bedrooms to find something for you to wear, as promised.

You scrunch at the ends of your hair with a towel, looking to the floor. After a few squeezes, your head settles on your hands, covered by the towel. The smell of the lake’s water was saturating the space around you and dredging up the memories of the Watergate (as Dustin so affectionately called it). Your elbow sinks into your thigh as your head becomes heavy with worry.

“I’m going to call it for tonight.” Eddie appears beside you and pat you on the shoulder. “Rob said I’ve got the spare room and you’re in with Mr Grumpy Gills.” You throw your head back with an eye roll.

“Of course I am.”

“If you need anything, if you’d ever…need…me…that’s where I’ll be. Good luck.”

You are laying in Robin’s bed, blanket up to your middle, when Steve knocks on the door. You wince slightly.

“Come in.” He is wearing his yellow sweater from earlier and a pair of pyjama pants inevitably provided by Robin.

“Hi.” His voice is strained and thin. He had inhaled a lot of water at the lake and you think he might have been crying. You try not to seem too worried.

“Hi.” Your arms wrap around your upper body.

“Cold?” He asks and you shrug. He waits a moment. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well, yeah.” He says firmly and you swallow before shifting into a sitting position. “I do.” Your eyes encourage him to speak, where your words fail. “Why?”

“Why wh-”

“Don’t do that. You know that I mean.”

“You would have done it for any one of us, Steve.”

“You put yourself in danger for me.” The rasp of his voice breaks your heart. “You should have stayed on that boat.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“What if I hadn’t?”

“What if it got you too? There is no reason that it should have given in like that, it should have got me! Us!”

“In that case we would have been in it together, Steve.” Your voice is raising. You had never raised your voice to Steve and neither had he. But it was happening.

“You should have left me.”

“You should have done this. You should have done that.” You wipe at your face in frustration. “I didn’t, Steve. I didn’t. I chose to save the man I love instead.”

You feel like a fraud, a scared girl who leapt into the water for love, not because she was brave. “I’m not like you, Steve.” You feel the tears welling in your eyes. “I know it was selfish. I couldn’t let you go.” The tears fall, tickling your skin as they go.

Steve is stunned to silence. A rare occurrence for a man with so much to say. He perches on the empty side of the bed, one knee bent on the surface of the mattress, the other foot on the floor. The street lights outside cast an orange glow across the room, skimming his beautiful features through the flimsy curtains. He’s startlingly handsome.

"We can all be selfish.” His hand moves back and forth over the blanket.

“Please tell me about your last supposed selfish act.” You challenge. You don’t know what’s possessing you to keep up this fight. It’s hurting your heart. It’s hurting his.

“Well.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I got into an argument with this girl because I couldn’t bare the thought that she could have gotten herself hurt or worse…for me.” His gaze falls to your lips. “And if she did, I…” You pinch yourself. “I never could have kissed her.”

“Kiss her, Steve.”

“God, I wanna do more than kiss her." He whispers. You inhale quickly. “Is that okay?” He cradles the right side of your face in his hand, your ear between his pointer and middle finger, his thumb sweeping over your damp cheek.

“Don’t push it.” You try to sound fun and flirtatious but the reality of how hard your heart was hammering was making you weak. You’re holding your breath again. Steve smiles lovingly.

“Don’t forget to breathe.” He smirks and closes the gap, humming into the kiss. Your chest is alight with glee (and the relief of taking a breath). Damn Steve Harrington.

His fingers find the bottom of the shirt you are wearing and slowly drag it up over your head before discarding it to the floor. “It is weird taking Robin’s shirt off you.”

“Please don’t think about that.” You laugh. He couldn’t think about that when he saw what was underneath. All he can think about is you.

For the second time today, Steve sheds the sweater dramatically before he guides you back on the bed, and begins kissing down your neck towards your chest. His mouth hovers over your nipple and you bite down on your lip in anticipation.

As his mouth kisses around your breast, you involuntarily start to spread your legs, the right one connecting with Steve’s body.

“Hold your horses,” He smiles and licks softly. You whine, left speechless by the gentle assault on your body, his right hand trailing up your thigh. “You’re ridiculous.” He whispers.

“I’m ridiculous?” He nods and you finally give in to the temptation to run your fingers through his hair. He hums. “Why?” He plants a single kiss to your nipple before sitting back and looking at you. Your hand falls from his hair and rests on your heaving chest.

“Instead of just telling me how you felt,” His fingers trace over your stomach, thoughtfully. You decided to wrestle me out of the grasp of some deadly creature from the Upside Down.”

“It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever done, but I doubt it will be the last time I do something stupid in your honour.”

“I won’t let you.” He takes the hand that rests on your chest and presses it to his lips. “Whatever it is you plan to do, I’ll do it first.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“You have to realise you have value.” His brow twitches, ready to defend. “People want to be around you. People want to laugh with you. People are proud of you.” You kiss him. “People love you.” He kisses you back firmly.

He eases down your pyjama shorts and with them, your underwear.

“I promise.” Kiss. “Next time.” Kiss. “I’ll drag this part out longer.” Kiss.

“Next time?” You smile against his lips and breathe a moan as his fingers find your clit and rub softly in slow circles.

“Next time.” He bites gently on your lower lip as he kisses you with a love driven fervour. “Fuck.”

You paw at his pyjama pants, desperate to not be alone in the vulnerability of it all. He leans back. “Go ahead. Take ‘em off.” He watches you as you nervously take them down. He helps you a little, moving out of them so he is bare in front of you. “I think you might burn a hole through me with that look. You’re so beautiful.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, affectionately. “I love you.” His words are soft but firm.

“If it wasn’t apparent, I love you too.” The both of you take a deep breath, today’s reality spearing through you. He pushes your slightly damp hair out of your face and holds you steady.

He kisses you and slips inside of you with ease. You both breathe out quietly against each others lips. Your head is spinning, uncertain if the cause is Steve related or from a sustained lack of oxygen earlier that day. You gasp as he moves and whine when he stops. A pleased smile dances across his face and your skin flushes with embarrassment, you reach up to cover your face but Steve stops you with a kiss. “Hey,” He says. “Don’t be shy.” He kisses your neck and rocks his hip slowly into yours and you feel as though you could burst. “I wanna hear you enjoying yourself.”

You whimper at his words and lock your hands behind his neck, your fingers flexing into his hair as he moved his hips gently forwards and backwards.

You fall apart underneath him. It doesn’t take much.

You’re exhausted, you’re in love and he loves you back. His thrusts are slow and meaningful and tantalising and sweet. “My unexpected hero.” He whispers once, with a kiss to your forehead. Your heart swells. “Thank you.”

With his final thrust before you come, he tells you he loves you again. In a dizzying, intoxicating whisper that brings tears to your eyes once more.

You share a long kiss, eyes shut tight, hands interlocked.

“Robin is going to kill us.” You whisper.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #season 4 #reader insert #st4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #robin buckley #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #stranger things spoilers #tjwrites

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

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Small Talk Sickness - Steve Harrington x Reader

You guessed it folks, an inconsequential drabble for Mr Harrington. Not even 500 words but I hope you enjoy. Kinda like this dynamic as it slots in well with Shy Reader trope so...maybe they will make a return.

___________________

You swallow an all consuming sickness as you stare at the man in front of you with the tape in his hand, looking expectantly. The Hawkins heat was penetrating through the glass walls, you were a wilting tomato plant in the Family Video greenhouse. The man and his tape get a little more animated as your vacant stare seems to mock him. His unanswered questions ricochet off your eardrums.

If you could just get your mouth to move without-

“Hey man, can I help?” Steve’s presence blankets your left hand side, accompanied by the brief, intentional, brush of his fingers along the inside of your forearm as he puts himself between you and the customer.

Steve takes the tape from the man’s hands and makes idle chit chat about the other films in the series. You don’t know what the film is and you don’t know exactly what he is saying, but he is saying it with such conviction you almost feel as though you should watch it.

His fingers left your skin some minutes ago but you still feel them there as you stare at the counter and try to focus on the white noise of Steve’s words.

You hold onto the counter to steady yourself, giving in to the visual confirmation that something was wrong with you. Your eyes close, another signal that something is not quite right.

Steve finally slides the tape to the man over the counter with one last charming grin. He appears to have signed this man up for a membership and checked out the tape in record time. However, the importance of such an achievement falls by the wayside in favour of a more pressing issue.

Steve whispers your name and puts his palm flat to your back, hovering so as not to overstep. “Small Talk Sickness?” Your upside down smile acknowledges the silent tragedy that speaking makes you feel sick. “It’s okay.” He applies slight pressure on your back before retreating when he sees you flinch. “You did good.” You open your eyes and take a moment to adjust to the light before gazing up at him. “You didn’t force yourself.”

“I think if I had I might have thrown up on him.” You manage in your smallest voice, fuelled only by Steve’s support.

“Look at us. I have the gift of the gab and you have the gift of the…gag?”

“Please never repeat that to anyone else. They might wonder what we get up to at work.”

“Let them wonder.” He nudges you with his elbow.

#stranger things season 4 #st #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #gn #gender neautral reader #steve harrington x you #drabble #anxiety #theme #reader insert #please let me know what you think #gently #tjwrites

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decadentpaperduck · 2 years

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Too Hot to Handle - TASM!Peter Parker x AFAB Reader (18+)

You see Peter in a coffee shop, some years after your last…interaction. You’re both in your thirties. Your mind wanders and you fall victim to your own feelings, in more ways than one.

Warnings: Smut, sexual themes from the start, swearing, lil angst. Minors DNI.

Words: 0.9k

(italics = past))

You pretend not to notice when Peter enters your favourite coffee shop, but how could you not?

Something contracts in your chest and you admonish yourself, refusing to believe your heart has any input in this situation. Though you allow yourself to admit it might be something to do with the fitted, heather grey jumper.

Your frantic bodies pressed up against one another with desperation. Peter expertly positioned his knee into the space between your parted thighs and your quiet whimpering spurred him on, deepening your kiss and inching his knee up, bit by agonising bit. Anticipation bore through you as you moaned into his mouth, begging to be touched.

It could be the caffeine, but you feel yourself getting hot and your tongue won’t sit still in your mouth as you turn over thoughts of all the things you could say to him but inevitably won’t. You can just about hear his voice over the sound of the patrons. You wonder if he has matured: matured in a possibly-has-a-wife-and-kids kind of way. Not that that is any of your business.

You felt yourself breathing too fast and heavy. You locked your mouth as he worked off your jeans, not wanting him to know just how badly you wanted him. Once discarded, Peter crawled up your body. His entire bare body against your own. Your eyes fluttered shut as your brain nearly short circuited. “Breathe, baby.” His voice rasped as he gently held your jaw and parted your lips. “It’s okay.” You let out a whine with your exhale and opened your eyes once more.

You tear your gaze away from him and draw daggers at your coffee cup as if it is somehow responsible for the feeling flowering in your gut. At odds with yourself, your heart flutters at the thought of your last encounter beneath the sheets and your head tortures you with the idea he has a family waiting for him at home.

Every part of you was electrified with attraction. His quiet confidence was dizzying. He kissed along your jaw, whispering your praises. “What a gorgeous girl you are.” “Those noises are music to my ears.” “Fuck me.” Your brain had melted and apparently pooled in the space between your legs.

You wonder if Peter recognises you, or wants to. The prospect that he saw you and sped past you is a sad one but not totally unbelievable given the way things were left.

Nervous hands rake through your hair and down your clammy neck. Time has been kind to him but perhaps not so much to you. You consider that his boyish charm is still evident, even from where your sat, as the lady behind the counter appears flushed. You can’t say you blame her.

Peter let out a moan as his fingers slipped into your newly exposed entrance. A broken chuckle from your lips tore his attention away. “Come on now, play fair, how am I supposed to keep quiet when I see you laying here looking like this, taking my fingers like that?” He takes another fleeting look at his fingers, embedded inside you, before repositioning himself over you. “Where has this pretty pussy been all my life?” He whispered into your neck, granting a whine from your love drunk lips.

You let out a gasp as your limp limbs manage to knock your coffee into your lap. Your already accelerating heart rate reaches it’s peak as you fumble to stand the cup upright to prevent any further damage. You look up at the room and a few faces look your way but decide you’ve gone unnoticed by Peter. You scramble from your seat and head for the restroom.

You pinch and hold the dress away from your body where it stings, offering yourself some relief. Balling up some tissue from one of the dispensers, you run it under the cold tap and dab it on the affected area. The dress is beyond saving but you can try to avoid a trip to the burns unit.

Once your heart rate plateaus and you are ready to leave, your rushed decision to flee to the bathroom doesn’t feel so clever. You take a deep breath and leave the restroom.

“Are you okay?”

“This might have been a mistake.” Peter spoke solemnly as he sat up in place on your bed, but it was as though the words were not new to him. They felt practised.

“Wh-what?” You pulled up the duvet that rested against your chest, as if he hadn’t just come inside you. “What do you mean this might have been a mistake, Peter?” You blinked. “It was or it wasn’t, I should think.” A silence louder than the all the noise you’d made before bounced between your four walls.

“Then it was.” A painful lump formed in your throat and you couldn’t speak. You watched as he folded back the duvet that lay atop him and began getting dressed. You turned away from where Peter stood and curled up, tears brimming with anger beginning to fall as he left without another word.

“It’s a little sore but I’ll cope.” You feel as though you are talking about something other than the coffee. He nods as if acknowledging that he, too, isn’t talking about the coffee.

“Can I take you to the doctor and get you checked over?” He asks. You shake your head. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” You admire his features as he looks at you expectantly. It’s as though time has frozen. “How about I get you a replacement for that coffee?”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #minors dni #idk man #18+#not really proof read #tjwrites

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