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thelostmagicians · 6 months

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Summary: Eddie Munson's reputation has never been worse, but you must like him for him. [2.8k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, sad boy Eddie

♡

This ain't for the best, my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me

Eddie’s always had a bad reputation, in high school he was known as The Freak, which soon morphed into Devil Worshipper, but the worst label he’s had so far had to be Murderer. It’s been almost a year since he’s been cleared for the murders of Vecna’s victims, but Hawkins has yet to move past it and believe in his innocence.

His friends stay strong by his side and even Hopper has a soft spot for him now, but it still isn’t easy. He’s taunted and harassed relentlessly, everywhere he goes, fired from jobs, rejected by girls, and his once dream of going on tour with Corroded Coffin squashed when he lost their slot at the Hideout. Some days, he thinks about packing it all up and moving away, leaving behind his past and the trauma, but he wants to be strong. He wants to show people that their words can’t break him any more than the Upside Down already has. He’s made peace with the fact that his reputation will never change and that he’ll lead a despairing life in Hawkins, but at least he’ll do it with pride.

The first time Eddie sees you, it’s storming outside. Wayne is getting ready to close the garage while he’s checking the register. He sees you running towards, your worn out purse doing nothing to cover you from the pouring rain. Your shoes squeak as Wayne ushers you in, gently pushing you to stand near the heaters.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s closing, but I just moved here and my car keeps making this weird noise, and tomorrow is my first day of work and I don’t want anything to go wrong and…” you keep rambling, frustration seeping through your words.

“Take a breath darlin’, you’re okay,” Wayne reassures.

You nod, hands clutching your bag as you take deep breaths. Wayne’s gaze meets Eddie over your shoulder as he gestures at him to bring the office chair around. Eddie grimaces when the chair squeaks against the tile floor, hoping you won’t notice, but his wish goes ignored when you meet his eyes.

One look into your eyes and he’s a goner, his heart fights to jump out of his chest, his hands clam up on the chair, and he forgets how to breathe. You shoot him a soft smile and he nearly topples over, legs having a mind of their own. He hurriedly drags the chair near you while Wayne gestures for you to sit.

“What’d you say was wrong with your car?” Wayne’s voice breaks Eddie out of his trance and the smirk he gets tells him Wayne knows more than he lets on.

“I’m not really sure, it just makes a chggg… chggg…” you trail off, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

Eddie chuckles under his breath, god you were so fucking cute.

“What time does your work start tomorrow?”

“nine a.m.,” your eyes light up with hope at Wayne’s question.

“We’ll have it done by eight, you can come pick it up then. Do you need a ride back here?”

“Oh no, It’s only a five minute walk away from my place. I’ll be okay, thanks.” You glance out the door, the storm barely visible now, you thank both of them profusely rushing out the door, squealing with giddiness when you think they can’t see you anymore.

“That was awfully nice of you,” Eddie accuses.

“Yeah it was… only for my favorite nephew though.”

“I’m your only nephew,” Eddie huffs, “Still didn’t think you would volunteer to work late because I have a crush.”

Wayne smirks at Eddie’s admittance, “I didn’t. Have fun working and don’t forget to double check the doors before you leave.” He shrugs on his leather jacket, bustling through the front door, leaving a very confused Eddie in the lobby.

Eddie stays up until three in the morning, fixing everything wrong with your car. He goes home sluggish, but doesn’t forget to set an alarm for seven, so he won’t miss you when you come to pick up.

He’s awakened by a loud pounding at his door, instead of the shrill of his alarm. He trips over clothes as he shuffles out of bed, grabbing his old hellfire t-shirt before swinging open the trailer door.

Wayne’s frantic face appears before him, hands grabbing his shoulders and checking him over, while repeatedly asking if he was okay. Eddie runs his hands through his hair finally fully waking up at Wayne’s distraught voice, “Wha’s going on, somethin’ happen?”

Wayne’s eyes turn dark, “The shop… someone came over and…”

Eddie doesn’t let Wayne finish before he’s grabbing his jeans and shoes and running towards the building. He can spot the words from nearly a mile away, crimson paint making it unmissable. Murderer covers the entire side of the building, the dripping of the paint being a near perfect replication of blood, the windows are smeared with the same paint, handprints accompanying the paint strokes. The sight itself was gruesome and cruel, the situation wasn’t anything new to Eddie or even Wayne, but it was still distressing when it happened. It was the same viscous cycle over and over again, Eddie and Wayne reporting the incident to Hopper, who would then catch the perps, but release them just as fast because he had no power against the rich of Hawkins, and then Eddie and his friends would spend the next few days helping Wayne scrubbing down the shop. This has happened so many times that Eddie doesn’t even flinch anymore, but today was different, you’re coming in to pick up your car in under an hour and he doesn’t think he can get the shop cleaned up by then. A disgruntled sigh leaves his lips as he grabs the nearby mop and bucket to start scrubbing.

Time passes by quickly, Eddie’s arms sore from tirelessly scouring, but he isn’t even a fourth of the way done. Just as he’s about to head in for a quick water break, he spots you flitting over in your pretty blouse and flouncy skirt. You reach his side before he can hide and he busies himself with wiping off the red paint on his jeans.

“What happened here?” Your soft voice sets his heart aflame and he tries to think of any excuse to explain all this away, but his mushy brain forces him to tell you the truth.

“I-I don’t really have the best reputation in Hawkins and people are… um v-very keen on reminding me of that,” he stammers.

You glance up at the wall, the r at the end of murderer being the only thing that’s almost gone. Wayne was able to spray down the windows with the hose, but some of the handprints remained stubborn, similar to the scars he’ll never heal from the night he saw Chrissy die. You frown looking at the mess and Eddie feels like he’s suffocating, your silence heavy in the air, filling his mind with intrusive thoughts of despair.

“Your car’s ready by the way, it shouldn’ give you anymo’ trouble,” he whispers.

You nod and head inside, returning momentarily with jingling keys. “Wayne said you stayed back late to work on my car, thank you.”

He shrugs, “It’s no problem.”

He’s expecting another awkward silence, but you surprise him, “Do you need help? I mean I can’t help right now because I have work… but I can come back after and help you out.”

“You want to help me? Did you not see the murderer written across the walls?”

“I did. I just don’t believe you’re as good of a murderer as Hawkins thinks considering I’m still alive.”

Eddie laughs loudly, head thrown back, brown curls flying on his face. “I don’t know I did work on your car, so maybe I’m trying new methods, you know, straying away from the usual stabbing.”

You smile at him before getting in your car, you roll your windows down as you back out, yelling out, “I’ll be here at five!”

We can't make any promises, now can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

You stayed late that night, helping him until Wayne’s shop glittered clean, what would have taken him a few days to finish, only took him a few hours. It felt like everything was easy when you were next to him, your presence alone giving him a new outlook on life. He talked to you for hours and hours, words flowing out like quick sand, sharing every thought and experience and you were no different mouth moving a mile a minute, eager to learn about him, but also teach him about you.

Although you exchanged numbers before parting ways, you hadn’t had the chance to give him a call, work and a new environment getting in the way. Eddie on the other hand found excuses to not call you in fear of what you might say. Maybe you only gave him your number to be nice, or you hadn’t called him yet because people’s opinions on him finally got to you, or maybe you just didn’t like him. He knew the excuses were a shield to protect his heart, but no matter how many times he tried he could never find the courage to dial your full number, always stopping before the last digit and hanging up.

He’s genuinely surprised when you walk into the Hideout at 2 a.m. on a Thursday morning. You look rundown and tired, but your eyes light up when you see him, smiling so bright it blinds him momentarily.

“H-hi.”

“Hey, Eddie. I didn’t know you worked here.” That was a lie. You knew he worked here once your co-worker let it slip that she avoided the Hideout because of Eddie. You started frequenting the bar almost every night hoping to catch a glimpse of him, until finally one of the other bartenders showed mercy and told you the time for his next shift.

“Yeah, I work the dead shifts, when people really aren’t around,” he looks down sadly, busying himself with dirty scotch glasses.

You smile softly, hand reaching to squeeze his, “You’re not who people say you are, I hope you know that.”

His neck heats up, blush blossoming its way towards his cheeks, “you know I never thanked you properly for that night, helping me out with cleaning the shop.”

“How about you make me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes...I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

Nowadays, instead of nightmares keeping Eddie awake it's you. You're always in his dreams, keeping the bad memories at bay with your sweetness. Sometimes he dreams of the day you first met, but most nights he dreams of a future together. He isn’t brave enough to ask you out, but he can feel his heart get stronger and stronger the more time he spends with you, the usual taunts and threats being easily brushed off now instead of sticking to him like honey. He doesn’t know what a future with you looks like, but he hopes it’ll always feel like this, safe, happy, and serene. He dreams of holding your hand, whisking you away on dates, and charming you until your heart gives out and you finally shut him up with a kiss. Waking up from a dream about you is more painful than waking up from a nightmare, knowing that everything he dreams to have with you can only be achieved when he’s asleep.

You wake up everyday eager for nightfall so you can see Eddie in your dreams. It hasn’t been long since your first meeting, but you’re addicted to him, his laugh, hair, charm, wit, everything and anything about Eddie is your favorite thing in the world. You feel at peace just thinking about him and you’re eagerly counting down the minutes for when you can see him next. You dream about lying in bed with him, waking up late, cooking breakfast, doing laundry, all the chores you hate doing, but you want it all with him, even the boring-ness of life. You have to set your alarm an hour early now, otherwise you’ll keep snoozing it just to bask in your dreams longer and soak up as much Eddie as you can before facing the reality of him not being yours.

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

You and Eddie hang out almost everyday now, whether it’s an early morning at the hideout or late nights in his trailer, you talk about anything and everything, conversation flowing easy and warm. He looks happier than he did the day you met him, almost boyish and young, eyes full with hope. You hope it stays that way.

You feel different too, lighter on your feet, a smile permanently etched on your face, and love blossoming in your heart. You know you have feelings for Eddie, strong ones at that and you know he feels something for you too, but you see the hesitance in his eyes almost like he’s scared to believe you’re real. Every time you reach for his hand he pulls back, fearful his touch might burn you, he shuffles farther away from you when he sees a passerby hoping to save you from the ridicule that accompanies him. You’ve told him you don’t care what others think, but he thinks it’s too good to be true, which is why, today, you decide you’re going to sweep Eddie Munson off his feet.

Your first stop is flowers. Eddie has never said anything about his favorite flower, but you think sunflowers are the most fitting for the boy who warms your heart. You stop by Benny's for his usual order before heading to his trailer, your palms sweat and your knees shake, walking the short distance from your car to his front door seems like a battle, your heart as heavy as the bags you're carrying in. You're nervous, sure, you're pretty confident that he likes you like that, but change is still nerve wrecking, even if it can be good. You knock fast and loud before you lose your courage, part of you hoping he doesn't open so you can go back to wallowing, but another part, a bigger part, of you is giddy with anticipation.

He swings open the door, sweats hanging almost too low, and an old band t-shirt falling off his shoulder thanks to the stretched out collar.

"Hey, sweetheart. What brings you here?"

The speech you had prepared vanishes, mind becoming blank as his stare looms over your face, you act before you speak, hands shoving the sunflowers roughly in his chest. "These are for you. I didn't know your favorite flower, but I thought you'd like sunflowers... 'cause, well... you're my sun, I guess." You shyly meet his gaze.

His eyes are tender, oozing love, but it's his tone that makes your heart plummet. "Sweetheart, this is nice 'n all, but we... you and I can never work. You don't wanna be with someone like me."

You sigh, dropping the Benny's takeout on the floor, you reach out and let your fingers brush back his curls, and then slowly trace down his forehead to his cheeks, then lips. He sighs softly, eyes closing as the ache in his heart is replaced with bliss, your fingers stop at his chin gently cradling it, encouraging him to meet your eyes.

"Eddie, I don't care what people think.. or say.. or do. All I know is that I'm my best when I'm with you, you make me feel alive and safe. I like you for you. If I make you even half as happy as you make me, then..."

He chokes back a sob, bringing you chest to chest forcing you to share the same breath of air. "I'm my best when I'm with you too. You've changed my life for the better, you're my first thought in the morning and my last one at night."

You laugh through your tears bringing his face close to yours hoping you can finally taste the lips you've dreamed of, but he beats you to it, pressing his lips to yours, giving you a kiss as soft and tender as him.

Eddie‘s delicate heart finally mending with your love.

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fangisms · 5 months

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bf who isn’t afraid of anything, gf who scares him a little bit

#please im begging #somebody write this #theodore nott #draco malfoy #theo nott #mattheo riddle #dean winchester #eddie munson #bucky barnes #simon ghost riley #hp universe #marvel #headcanon #slytherin #fanfic #fanfiction

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thenightcallsme · 8 months

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Dove | Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: Hello lovely people, I have a backlog of short stories written for things like Avatar: The Way of Water, MWII, Stranger Things, The Arcana, Outer Banks, and many more that I have never posted and keep to myself. I'm talking hundreds of pages worth of fluff, angst and eventual smut - you've got to get through some plot first, though. HOWEVER, if anyone likes my writing and wants to task me with stuff to write, like straight smut, I'm all ears. Anyway, if anyone is interested in reading stuff I could potentially post, here is a snippet for a little Call of Duty fic.

Synopsis: You're to play the materialistic wife of a rich, well-connected husband during an undercover mission. You're to-be husband is a temporary recruit of the 141, who is to supervise your every move. While getting ready, you have a surprising interaction with your Lieutenant, Ghost, who you swear has made it his mission to treat you like a stranger day after day. Until now.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Contains: pretty much nothing of importance, just Ghost being as unreadable as ever, causing reader to have their mind blown by the smallest of crumbs

• • • • •

I look in the mirror at the woman who is supposed to be Lyanna Winstead. She’s the partner of Dario Winstead, son of a wealthy businessman. Everything about Lyanna is a carbon copy of myself. Her smile, her hair, her figure, her voice. Only, she presents herself in a way I haven’t in a long time.

Gone is the tactical gear and camouflage colours. Instead, she wears the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. The outline of the dress is simple yet captivating to suits the old Hollywood theme. Silver cascades down her body, creating the illusion of a mercury waterfall. The sweetheart neckline and thin straps compliment her full breasts and soft arms. Adorning the bodice are glistening silver designs that remind me of old, swirling boarders on French mirrors. The designs fall away, melting into plain silver threads that fall to the floor and pool at her feet. The dress hugs her body like a second skin, only melting away at her knees. The silhouette fit her hourglass figure well.

The silver jewellery she wears is modest so as not to take away from the dress’s magnificence. On her neck is a dainty Vivienne Westwood necklace, the inner planet of the pendant a pearl. Matching dangling earrings hang from her lower lobe piercing. The rest of her ear piercings are small diamond studs and silver hoops. One wrist displays a thin diamond tennis bracelet and a Van Cleef one with emerald clovers. On the other is the only ode to myself: the evil eye bracelet I never take off. The thin silver chain and bejewelled eye thankfully blend into the rest of the accessories. Small rings cover her fingers, few in number and easily ignorable. The bands are thin and any jewels are small and clear. However, one stands out; a breathtaking sight on her left index finger.

Glittery diamonds cover the band, giving way to a large, circular moonstone. Rainbow shimmer comes to life in the milky stone when the light hits it just right. Separating the band and the centrepiece are two small flowers with diamond centres. Two separate rings sit beneath and below the main one, shaped in V’s to follow the curve. At each point are flowers similar the the others, with curved leaves flowing from the petals. All three are gold, contrasting against the silver to make a statement.

I’m not just looking back at Dario’s partner. I’m looking at his wife.

I’m Will’s wife.

Fake wife, really. I nearly shake my head in wonder. I still look like myself, but everything about this makes me feel like I’m wearing a second skin. Lyanna’s skin. Every so often I stare at the ring in amazement. If anyone ever proposes to me, I would hope for nothing less than the magnificent that is this ring. All that adorns my body is courtesy of Will. Unbeknownst to me before this mission, he’s filthy rich, and a filthy rich man needs a filthy rich wife. All the designer jewellery, the dress, the shoes, and the engagement ring are authentic and top dollar.

After the last touch-ups of make-up, fragrances, and hair, I’m making my way to the courtyard. I’m to have one last briefing and run over of the plan before getting in Will’s blacked-out Corvette. I have to give it to him: he really knows how to pull off a lavish life with style.

Already am I wishing to rip off the damn stilettos on my feet. While I could live in the dress and jewellery, this is the one day a year I’m willing to wear heels.

The air is cool, the last golden light of day painting the courtyard and walls of Alejandro’s HQ in a luminescent glow. A low rumble fills the air from my 'husband’s car. Will leans against it, speaking with the 141. Ghost lingers back by the front door, arms folded and back leaning against a pillar. Weaving between his fingers with precision is a small dagger. His head turns at the sound of approaching heels.

“Was starting to think you were a no show,” he says gruffly.

I stop beside him to adjust my dress. It doesn’t really need adjust, but suddenly being subjected to his gaze makes me anxious. “Told you it would take a while. Gotta look the part.”

The way his eyes travel over my body almost makes me shrink away. Every curve is on full display. The tight bodice holds up my already full breasts, and somehow my waist-to-hip ratio is even more accentuated. Wearing my uniform doesn’t exactly hide my figure thanks to the tight shirts and cargo pants that aren’t exactly loose from my mid-thigh up. However, a lot of me is lost beneath the vests and belts.

“Stop...inspecting me, or whatever you're doing,” I mumble. “Makes me think I need to fix something.”

I begin taking the skirts in my hand as I survey my descent. It’s not too much, but the steps are steep enough to be an issue. The heels on my feet are no help.

Ghost shakes his head. “Don’t. You look…”

“Important?”

“Pretty.”

I stop in my tracks to look back at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. He doesn’t look away or seem embarrassed to have said so. Then again, when does he ever. No-nonsense and prideful in his emotionless character, Ghost is not one to regret his words. Everything he says is a calculated move. Compliments are certainly something to be calculated in a sense, but I don't think of it to be a compliment, even when a small part of me screams for more. I'm playing my part well; there'd be a problem if I wasn't looking pretty. A slow smile quirks at my lips, teasing in nature as I raise my brows. The teasing turns to surprise, however, when he offers me his arm.

“How chivalrous,” I quip as I lightly take his offered arm. Even the slightest contact sends thrills beneath my skin. “Careful, Lieutenant. I might start to think you actually like me.”

Ghost’s eyes train on the ground. At first, I wonder if he doesn’t want to meet my eyes, only then to realise he’s watching my footing. I barely catch a glimpse of his squint.

“I like you in one piece,” he corrects. “This job will be over the second you sprain your ankle on a flight of stairs.”

I hum. “Ahh, there it is.”

He looks up at me then. “There’s what?”

“Thinking about the job, as always.”

As always, I keep my tone light and teasing, but there's an accusing hint. A subtle jab I let slip that I pray goes unnoticed.

There's no room for emotions in this job, and though I've compromised that with the rest of the 141, Ghost is a difficult case. An impossible riddle, a mind-numbing equation with no real answer. Nothing about him should be likeable. He's painfully honest and dismissive when he bothers to speak, he's angry half the time, his attention is never lingering and his mind is an impenetrable fortress. It would make more sense to give in to Alejandro's shameless flirting or Gaz's sleazy grins. Only, it's Ghost that keeps me up at night. It's Ghost, who sends a pang through my chest when he reminds me any care is from pure investment in performance. I'm useful, nothing more.

I can count on one hand the number of times he's thrown me small morsels of care as if I were a stray dog whining and begging for food. Even then, I wouldn't have made it past three fingers. A greedy piece of me spins those memories into something that serves my desire. See, he's returning your interest, that hopeful voice purrs in my ear while feeding me botched versions of what really happened. I know better than to give in to the delusions. The ending of those memories is what sobers me, and it's no different now. I need you in shape for tomorrow. Keep your head in the game. I'm just making sure this isn't interrupting the job. He's always quick to redirect any concern from me to the job.

Maybe, just maybe...what if he was trying to save face? Does he not want to care?

Ghost remains silent for a moment. In consideration or because he doesn’t care to answer, I can’t tell. But when he does answer, his voice has my full attention. It’s low and rough, each syllable laced with something intoxicating. Something I've never heard before and never thought I would hear. Something I want to hear again and again.

“You have no idea what I think about, dove.”

Dove.

The response catches me so off guard I almost forget to take another step. We’ve reached the bottom of the steps, now. The second both my feet are on the flat expanse of the concrete driveway, he breaks away from our linked arms. There is no follow-up, no hint of a miscommunication, not even a look in my direction before he's gone from my side. All I can do is hesitantly trail behind him, lost in my thoughts.

Ghost has never given me a nickname before. Hell, he barely refers to me as anything other than my callsign. When I do hear my real name, it's never for good reasons.

The nickname that pours from his lips comes in a deep voice curled into a sensual tone, sounding like silk-covered marble, low and intended for my ears only. It's strangely intimate—something a lover would purr with lustful eyes and a seeking touch. Somehow it seems to invoke a phantom touch that glides across my skin. Gooseflesh puckers in its chilling wake. In the span of only a few seconds, I seem to experience every emotion humanly possible. Shock, surprise, a sickening, perverse enjoyment...and irritation that I must now join the rest of the team as if a mind-numbing heat was not boiling in the pits of my stomach

• • • • •

I'll get the formatting of posting these to be prettier btw I promise 🙏🙏 But anyway just interact with this or tell me directly if you want more.

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3lle-l-black · 1 month

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Headcanons ☆ Idéias * : Take care, possible content +18, smut, suggestive, others. Support your creators by reblogging

Fred & George Weasley

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Part XI

Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Sirius Black & Remus Lupin

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Eddie Munson

Part I

Part II

Part III

Simon Ghost Riley

Part I *

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Random ｡⁠.ﾟPrompts

Part I

Part II Castiel Vielmont

Part III

#fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #gêmeos weasleys #remus lupin #sirius black #simon ghost riley #wolfstar #eddie munson #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #prompts #writing prompt #simon ghost riley x reader #remus lupin x reader #3lle headcanons

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angel-sweets666 · 3 days

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asking rules and fanfic map

What I will NOT write for

anal sex (sorry I don’t like it)

scat and or piss (ew bro trying to get a infection?)

feet fetishes (I could get away with it depending on how severe)

rape/non con (prison.)

UNDERAGE IM NOT TRYNA MAKE VICTIMS HERE. All minor characters are aged up to atleast 18 years old. incest (step cest maybe but I’m not letting no twin siblings each each others bums bro)

A guide for my lovely readers! 🤍fluff

❤️‍🔥smut

❤️‍🩹angst

🩷one shot

❤️series

Lisa frankenstein

Sweetheart~ ❤️‍🔥🤍❤️ the creature x reader chapter one

chapter two

sweet heart mood boards here!

Baking w the creature, up soon🤍

New girl lisa swallows x the reader ❤️‍🩹🤍

My hero acadamia

bakugo katsuki, barbarian bakugo x reader arranged marriage is here!

every other character ntohing yet

Call of duty

könig

run away together series, knight!könig x princess!reader🤍❤️‍🔥❤️ coming soon!

Simon Riley

Babysitting ❤️‍🩹🤍coming soon!

Krueger

teach me German one shot 🤍coming soon!

John “soap”

video games 🤍coming soon!

John price/ captain price nothing planned yet

Boyfriend to death

strade

dealing with his breeding kink❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🤍 coming soon!

Cuddles with strade here

what I’m thinking about writing about

Five Hargreeves

stranger things characters (Gareth Emerson, Eddie Munson, steve Harrington ect)

young Sheldon (Georgie cooper mostly)

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cringyslut-gov · 8 days

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im gonna start writing fanfiction for my own personal enjoyment and no one is gonna stop me!! eddie munson, colin bridgerton, and jason voorhees better watch out because here i come!!

#eddie munson #anakin skywalker #colin bridgerton #jason voorhees #ive lost my mind #help im too freaky #din djarin #simon ghost riley #ben solo #x reader #if i write an OC it’s most likely me self inserting myself soooo #mostly gonna write x reader #we need more x reader #x reader>>>>anything ever

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writefandoms · 1 year

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(Not Available)Limited Commissions:

Hey y’all! So with school rn I’m pretty busy, but I’ve decided to take a couple short “x Reader” requests based on these prompts.

Sfw and Nsfw accepted!

Kissing prompt

Multi prompts

Prices:

500 word = $4.25 (Venmo & Cashapp)

Characters:

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Alucard (Hellsing)

Adrian Tepes

Vlad Dracula Tepes (+ Lisa)

Eddie Munson (terrible ik)

Professor Stein

DM me with the character and prompt if you’re interested!

#x reader #alucard #castlevania #alucard x reader #writing request #smut #adrian tepes #adrian x reader #commission #adrian fahrenheit tepes #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #hellsing #soul eater #professor stein #simon ghost riley #taking commisions #commisions open

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meropegaaunt · 1 year

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SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

Chapter 00 / Broadway Baby

Love Astor was born in 1951 and raised in New York, New York. The daughter of Robert 'Robbie' Astor, the business mogul, and June Koch, the film star. As a child, Love made a name for herself on Broadway, but as a teenager, she delved into the world of rock 'n' roll.

LILIAN WILLIAMS (former acting coach, the Williams School of Musical Theatre): Oh, yeah, I remember Love Astor.

We met for the first time in ‘55, probably. ‘56 at the latest. Into the school came her mother, June (Koch), dressed to the nines. Think Jackie Kennedy. There’s no way that woman wasn’t going for the First Lady look. Honestly, you might have mistaken her for a politician’s wife rather than an actress. At her side was this beautiful little girl. “This is my daughter, Love,” June said, nodding to her look alike. Love, like her mother, had this long, thick black hair that fell all the way down her back. Her eyes were this stunning sea green color. To this day, they still remind me of the beach. And her cheekbones were sharp, so sharp the rich pay to have theirs come even remotely close.

“What can I do for you, June?” I asked, expecting her to request more lessons for herself, but no. Imagine my surprise when she said, “Love here has the potential to be a great singer, but she needs to be trained. You could help refine her voice, could help turn her potential into skill.”

It came as a surprise, because Love was so young at that point, no older than four. Most children start theatre training between six and eight, but June wanted her children to be like her and Robbie: extraordinary. Usually, I’d refuse to train a child that young, but then June had Love sing one of Judy Garland’s songs. “Over the Rainbow,” if memory serves, and her delivery was smooth, polished. I thought, This kid is going to be somebody when she’s older, and I . . . I want to play a part in making her somebody.

So we started training, and by the mid ‘60s, she was getting casted on Broadway. Playing a part in Camelot, Fiddler on the Roof, Dames at Sea, and Cabaret. A few of the parts were written for older women, but the ‘60s were a different time. No one batted an eye at a teenage girl being cast as a woman. And Love, she put everything she had into each and every part, earning her the love and attention of many. Hell, not even critics had anything bad to say about her . . . until her brother died.

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

On December 1, 1969, the U.S. Selective Service System conducted a lottery to determine the draft order for 1970. Stephen Astro, born March 14, 1949, was assigned lottery number 12.

LOVE ASTOR (singer, Daisy Jones & The Six): For the first eighteen years of my life, I lived at the whims of my mother. “Sing, Love. Eat better. Try harder at school,” she commanded, and I would without hesitation or reserve, because I had been made into a sponge, made to take in whatever orders she wanted. Then, my brother, my dearest friend in the whole world, got drafted, and it changed things. Stephen promised that he would return from Vietnam, that he’d be back before we even realized he was gone, but that was a lie. For eight months, there was radio silence, then word came that he died in Laos.

There was no body, so we buried an empty casket. And that . . . that broke me. I couldn’t bear the thought of him forever being lost, so I looked for something to quiet my mind, to numb the pain. That led me not only to the rock scene but to everything that came with it — drugs, alcohol, sex, and everything in between.

DALE WRIGHT (former bouncer, The Blue Room): I worked at The Blue Room from 1969 to 1974. It was a real sketchy club, bringing in folks from the seediest pockets of the boroughs, but goddamn was there good music. It (the music) drew in tons of better-off folks whose names I don’t remember, but I remember Love Astor. The first time I saw her, I was kicking out a junkie and in walks this bright-eyed, super skinny girl. She had the longest hair I’ve ever seen, and it was tied into some odd braid about her head. Her smile too . . . her smile was something else. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world. She was with some guy who was probably three times her age. He looked at her like she’d hung the moon, but she shed him by the end of the night and left on the arm of a roadie.

After that first time, she started coming in more and more. Four or five times a week, and each time, she’s make it a habit to talk to me and the rest of the club staff, to get to know us. Love was a real people person, you see. She was always happy, and wanted those around her to be happy, too. There was an innocence to her, a naïveté, which was why I made sure to keep an eye out for her. God knows no one else there was.

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

Word Count: 893 words

#daisy jones and the six #daisy jones headers #billy dunne #camila dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #sam claflin #blanca soler #simone jackson #suki waterhouse #warren rhodes #eddie roundtree #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #meropegaaunt: something beautiful

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wednesdaymunson · 4 months

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At the end of the day, they're all...

Let people write them how they want. These "So and so would never be like that! They would never do xyz! Have you read their back story??" post are lowkey kink shaming.

#let them write #keep scrolling #i want my fictional lovers full of rage #i also want them to remember my take out order from our favorite place #eddie munson #simon ghost riley #könig cod #frank castle #carmen berzatto #kylo ren

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bambiifacee · 7 months

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i am taking requests for short blurbs and/or hcs !!!

#pls req idk what to write :((#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #poly!marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #remus x sirius #sirius x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #cod mwii #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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thelostmagicians · 6 months

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Reputation

Summary: A collection of songs from Taylor Swift's Reputation album.

Delicate - Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Eddie's reputation has never been worse, but you must like him for him

Gorgeous - Steve Harrington x fem!reader

#reputation #reputation masterlist #simon-writes #song masterlist #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #carmen berzatto #gator tillman #the bear #fargo fx #shameless #mymasterlist

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emo-emu64 · 1 year

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Thinking of starting list of prompts and characters for requests. Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Cries for mercy?

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #isaac foster x reader #zack foster x reader #isaac foster #fluff prompts #writing prompts #dabi my hero academia #simon ghost riley #könig modern warfare #the walking dead #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington

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topoet · 1 year

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Shhh

Before Shakira burst out of the Columbian/Spanish market she released these CDs that broke down barriers: Pies Descalzos (1995), Dónde Están los Ladrones? (1998) – when I bought these I was merely adding them to my latino world music collection. The production was superb & she was clearly working on becoming the next Celine Dion – only with a lot more sexuality. Great music. Her English work…

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#Aion #am writing #CanCon #Dead Can Dance #Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft #Eddie Kendricks #Graceland #Latino #music #Ontario #Paul Simon #photographs #Remy Shand #review #Shakira #Shriekback #Spanish #Toronto #World Music

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randomshitwhore · 1 year

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writes block sucks. writes block sucks. writes block sucks. writes block sucks. writes block sucks. writes block sucks.

conclusion: writes block sucks

#writes block sucks #simon ghost riley #explorepage #john soap mactavish #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #randomshitwhore

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Thinking about Rockstar!Eddie meeting you at an autograph signing and getting off to the thought of you after his show...

“Here ya go,” Eddie says, forcing a tired smile as he hands a freshly-autographed CD to a beaming fan. Pre-show merch signings were part of the deal, and they certainly brought in the extra cash, but after five months on the road, the members of Corroded Coffin are tired. Eddie scratches at the five o’clock shadow dotting his face, glancing at his watch. Just another ten minutes until they can wrap this up and start soundcheck. Then they’ll be back on the bus, shipping off to whatever city’s up next.

The security guard lets the next two people up to the table. Eddie reaches over to the pile of CDs, giving an exasperated sigh as he asks, “Name?”

That’s when he hears your voice.

His head snaps up, and he relaxes as he takes in your shy demeanor. You’re holding the hand of your friend–girlfriend?--hey, it’s the ‘90s; anything is possible. Your eyes sparkle as you say and spell your first name, biting your lower lip and averting your gaze from the gorgeous rockstar in front of you. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, writing a short message and swirling the Sharpie over the CD cover to make his exaggerated signature. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, yeah?”

You just giggle, and the girl next to you squeezes your hand. “She’s, like, completely in love with you,” she blabbers. “Every damn day since we got these tickets, it’s been, ‘What should I wear? Do you think Eddie will notice me?’”

You free your hand to elbow her, a little harsher than you’d intended. “Dianna!” you hiss, burying your face in your palms in a feeble attempt to hide your humiliation.

But Eddie just cocks his head, checking you out from head to toe. “Oh, he definitely noticed you,” he muses, handing you the CD with two lanyards. “You ladies wanna watch backstage? ‘Course you do; Charlie will bring you where you gotta go and, uh,” he looks directly at you, sending an excited shiver down your spine, “maybe we can notice each other a bit more later.”

You and Dianna nod vigorously as the beefy security guard leads you to the backstage VIP suite. A waiter comes around and takes your drink orders. You ask for a vodka soda, and Dianna gets a Long Island iced tea.

“You sure about that?” you whisper as the waiter walks away. “Those are really strong.”

Dianna shrugs. “It’s not every day we get free drinks. Might as well drink as much as we can.”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s fumbling his way through soundcheck, thinking about the way your breasts peeked out the top of your Corroded Coffin tank top, how your denim shorts perfectly cupped your ass, the shiny gloss that emphasized your lips. God, he wants those lips wrapped around his hard, throbbing–

“Munson? You wanna get your head out of your ass so we can put on a show?” Jeff’s voice booms through his mic.

“He’s thinking about that hot chick he gave backstage passes to,” Gareth teases, and Simon makes kissy noises at their lead singer.

Eddie launches his guitar pick in Gareth’s direction, narrowly missing his head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he grumbles, but he knows that they’re right. Just get through the show and she’s all yours. He palms himself over his pants discreetly. He’s never been more grateful for his guitar, since his tight leather pants do nothing to hide his burgeoning erection.

Corroded Coffin puts on a hell of a show, as usual. They close with “Rock Hard,” their hit single about hooking up with a groupie after a concert, and Eddie thanks every celestial being that it’s the last song of the night. As soon as the band thanks the audience and says their goodbyes, Eddie dashes offstage. He bolts into your suite, all sweat and smiles. “How’d you like the–” He stops, frowning when he sees an empty room, save for Charlie, who’s smoking a cigarette in a lounge chair. “Where is she?”

“Sorry, Casanova,” Charlie drawls. “Her little friend drank too much, got sick all over the bathroom. Had to get them outta here before she ruined anything else.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back as his bandmates laugh at his misfortune. “Goddammit,” he hisses, pushing his perspiration-soaked hair from his eyes.

“C’mon, man,” Simon claps a hand on Eddie’s back. “There’s a bar down the street; plenty of the girls from the show will be there…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Nah, I’m just gonna head back to the bus. ‘M pretty beat.”

“Oh, something’s getting beat tonight,” Gareth jokes. Eddie flips him off, but once again, he’s right.

He’s barely closed the curtain to his makeshift bedroom before he’s hastily unbuttoning his leather pants, shoving his ringed hand into his boxer briefs. Just the sensation of his own touch has him bucking his hips. He runs his thumb over the bead of pre-cum pearling at his tip, using it to lubricate his palm. He uses his free hand to tug his pants down to his knees, sitting on the bed. He imagines you on your knees in front of him.

“S’big, isn’t it, baby?” Eddie coos. He leans over, letting a trail of saliva drip from his mouth to his shaft. “Thas’ right, spit on it. Such a dirty fuckin’ girl.” He grips the bedsheet with his left hand, dragging his right from base to tip.

“What’s that? You want it in your mouth? Oh, pretty girl; you don’t have to ask twice.”

He fucks into his fist harder, feeling himself grow in his own grasp. “Mmm, let me make a mess of that face. Ruin that fuckin’ makeup you worked so hard on. Wanted me to notice you; well, I sure fuckin’ did. Knew I had to have you, sweet thing.” If you were actually here, you’d be gagging on his dick as your nose grazes the thatch of curls on his pevlis, tears reflexively gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your mascara would start to run; the telltale sign of a good blowjob.

He loosens his hold on the sheet, cupping his balls. “If you do that, ‘m gonna bust in that sinful mouth of yours, fuckin’ swear.” A harsh chuckle escapes his throat. “Bet you’d like that. Bet you’d take my whole load down your throat, swallow it all, yeah?”

Eddie brings himself right to the edge before forcing himself to slow down. “I know, baby. I know you wanna keep sucking me off. But I wanna–no, I gotta be in that perfect little pussy. Now, come sit on my cock. Nice and slow–thassit.” He tightens his grip on his length, keeping a slow rhythm to mimic the feeling of gradually filling you up. “You can take it, don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

He bites his lower lip so hard that he swears it might bleed. “Oh, angel. Y’feel even better than I ever imagined, holy fuck.” He increases his pace, choking out a pathetic moan. “What’s that? You want me to come inside you? So desperate f’me, aren’t you?” He whimpers at the mental image of you bouncing on his cock, tits pressed up against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Come with me, fuck, wanna make you come. Want you to cream my cock while I fuckin’ fill you up.” Eddie lets out one last pornographic moan as thick, hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his thick fingers. He pants, trying to catch his breath as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.

Cleaning himself up, Eddie grumbles to himself about your stupid drunk friend and how he’s so tired of fucking his own hand. He falls asleep quickly, worn out from the combination of the concert and his own post-show escapades.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. The bus driver has already set out for their next destination, somewhere in Bumblefuck. Eddie doesn’t care, he just wants you. Real you, not the fantasy he’d conjured up last night.

“Hey, boss,” Charlie says when Eddie pads out to the bus’s common space. “Forgot to give this to you after the show.” He hands him a folded piece of paper, which reads:

Eddie:

Had to get Dianna home before she puked on the carpet. I was not paying for that to be replaced–the tickets for your autograph already bankrupted me…

But if you wanna stop by my hotel room later, just give me a call. I don’t think you were done noticing me. I certainly wasn’t done noticing you.

You signed your name with a glossy lip print and your hotel room extension.

“Charlie,” Eddie starts through gritted teeth, “if you can convince the driver to turn this bus around, I won’t fire you.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things

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