#( This is the TrashCan ) Crack

[ghostsandfools]

So, I don't remember what episode this was, but a while back, one of the character's mentioned that a couple couple of dimensions had Creator's that were married. I like to imagine that Sven is one of them, and everyday, after a long day of coding, he goes home and cuddles his loving husband, the trashcan man.

[gender-trash]

ok im a little less fucked up than i was yesterday, or possibly the same amount but in a different direction because i spent too much time thinking about [redacted]. rn im greasy and annoyed because it's too raining to go outside and read a book but i'm sick of being inside my house because it's a huge mess and i wiped myself out yesterday Floor Gluing parquet to the underlayment and midway through this exhausting and stressful experience @combat-epistemologist came in to tell me that our fucking SHOWER PAN BROKE? so now i can't even shower. i was barely fucking coping with Everything to begin with!!! fuck!!!

[sodafrog13]

happy tdov tmonday. view me.

(it/they/⛅️ if u please 🤘🏼)

[traincarsandstars]

"Hello, I'm Bailu I'm the temporary doctor on the Astral Express. Nice to meet you, Jalokivi."

[lunaetis]

eden vc : in my defense, there were treasures in the trashcans of another world that has similar vibe to this place so i have to see if i can find more here.

[frostedturquoise]

Still cant believe Waifu Bait Fandom(tm) i knew about when it was newish but all i saw was people arguing over -you guessed it- waifus or That One Guy or That One Kid Most Seemed To Have A Hate Boner For For Some Reason in the background of my internet experience Blissfully unaware times as idk a nine year old probably then for the entirety of my last two years of schooling then four years of dnd crew time after that just Blissfully unaware most were references to Same Thing due to section one. Vaguely get recommended it some time during the period of section two but forget the name and is too embarassed to ask because your cousin knows you well enough that he said in full confidence 'you will probably like it, even if not the whole thing' but recommended 'the anime not the games because they are kind of shit but wont stop me if i chose to do that' (he is woefully dyslexic so finding out they were visual novel makes a hell of a lot of sense for why he seemed allergic to them)

Accidentally use a character with the same/similar name as in one of the spin off things and your 'please dont make fin of the similarity this OC is related to one i played in a prior game' was taken as a bold faced lie to play X character but fly under the radar and my cousin after the session said i didn't have to do that because it wouldn't of been the first time someone did with an anime character.

Turns out there is TWO of them and he genuinely thought i was pulling a sneaky because of the 'no werewolf policy' The Werewolf Gene Brothers(tm) wound up just being normal people, even if my cousin admitted it was a shame because dragons were cool. Finally was confused enough to admit i had no idea what he was talking about and later admitted i was too embarrassed to ask what the name of the thing he recced like three years before was.

And then three or four years later one of my brothers exes brings it up. intend to follow up.

forgets.

another year later she brings it up again because she needeed someone to hype about something with but it wasnt anime specific this time just Character Feels(tm) so i pull a wiki out Then three months later find a thing related to one of the things related to the thing. Then a year later after all that time of one foot in the door it is officially '??????' This post brought to you in vague that the realisation ht me while sorting shit out for a future dnd game but since its vaguely related to mythos shit saying 'fate' so many times was going to make me feel like three broken records playig at once because my life feels like a joke because i recognise like 20% of all the old memes just because i was in the direct personal orbit of a group of people who lived said fandom IRL for six years and thought i knew-knew due to a accidental on point analysis moment carrying over in everyones emery meets the direct rec meets the fact that i just rolled with the punches because i was blissfully unaware 50% of the meme references were for the same thing (it was just lie browsing the internet but IRL conversation of shit your not interested in but exposed to anyway) and finding out how much was the same this was just A bit like 'hey. wait. what.' lmao

Unfortunately any of those guys i still talk to were/are Waifu Guys (yes even the ex) so hard that i feel bad when i playfully take the piss out of anything.

And just to think half of my accidential investment started with (1) crack ship and who ever thought the stupid idea i had while waiting for crumpets to cook because at the time i thought one character had 'stuck up prissy bastard cat energy' or some shit while waiting for crumpets to cook at like 3am and my brain thought it would be funny for said character as cat person to impose themselves on the others living space ala 'stray cat moves in style' while knowing jack shit outside second hand info and now i unironically think i accidentally stumbled onto something because the more i learn the more said ship Makes Fucking Sense and i feel like a disgruntled preschooler about it because 20% of my current self afflicted dilemma was to get it out of my system search the pairing up and find jack shit.

Always wild to have surprise fandoms happen when fandom engagement energy + social energy in general is at an low. Then you feel bad due to new distraction vs many unfinished fics.

this post brought to you by i need to be awake in three hours and have an eight hour long outing soon after that point and i still cannot sleep and was Consumed With Thoughts(tm) over how this chain of coincidences feels oddly like a cosmic joke.

[mothpdf]

hate it here

[frankenstheythem]

looking at the cracks on my screen and trying to make out lil faces in it

[honeyslibrary]

Rookie Card | Jack Hughes

Pairing; Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Fluff, established relationship, little to no knowledge of Costco (I've never been lol), edited once, that's it I think!

Summary; Jack finds out that reader keeps a certain card in her wallet

Word Count; 3.1k

Authors Note: I feel like if this happened IRL he'd be such a little shit about it and would not stop teasing 😭 Also I don't have a Costco membership idk what they sell there and I did not look it up to be accurate 🥴 -Honey

You knew this Costco trip was a mistake the moment Jack grabbed the cart.

"I'm driving," he'd announced with that lopsided grin that still made your stomach flutter after eight months together. That grin had gotten you into this relationship in the first place. The same one he'd flashed at you across the bar the night you met, when your friend had elbowed you and whispered, "Holy shit, that's Jack Hughes," and you'd pretended not to know exactly who he was.

Now that same grin was steering an overloaded shopping cart through the warehouse chaos of Costco on a Sunday afternoon, which felt considerably less charming.

"Slow down," you call out as he narrowly avoids clipping an elderly woman examining a stack of discounted bestsellers. "This isn't the ice, Hughes."

Jack shoots you a look over his shoulder. "I'm being careful! Besides, we need to beat the sample rush. Those little pizza bagel things go fast."

You roll your eyes but can't help cracking a smile. For a professional hockey player who regularly gets body-checked into boards, Jack has an almost childlike enthusiasm for the free samples at Costco. It's endearing, even if his cart navigation skills leave much to be desired.

Two hours later, the cart is piled dangerously high with everything from the mundane essentials you actually came for (paper towels, coffee beans, that specific brand of Greek yogurt Jack insists is the only acceptable post-workout snack) to the impulse purchases that somehow found their way in when you weren't looking (a 2.5lb bag of dried mango slices, a folding camp chair, and what appears to be an industrial-sized container of protein powder).

"Do we really need all this?" you ask, eyeing the mountain of products as you approach the checkout area.

Jack looks genuinely confused. "Which part don't we need?"

"I don't know, maybe the trashcan sized candle?"

"You said your apartment always smells like hockey gear!"

"I meant you should do laundry more often, not turn the place into a Yankee Candle outlet."

He shrugs, unrepentant. "Trust me, I'm doing us both a favor."

As you approach the front of the store, Jack steers the cart toward the self-checkout area.

"The regular lines aren't that long." you comment, glancing at the regular checkout lanes where actual employees could help with the small mountain of purchases you've accumulated.

Jack scoffs. "Self-checkout is way faster. Plus, I'm basically a professional at scanning."

"Since when?"

"I did a grocery store commercial last season, remember? Spent like three hours scanning the same box of cereal from different angles."

You bite back a smile. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't translate to actual scanning skills."

"I forgot you were the expert," he rolls his eyes, smiling as he maneuvers the cart into the self-checkout lane.

The Costco self-checkout is already chaos. The cart is overloaded, the scanner next to yours keeps yelling "place item in the bagging area," and Jack is too busy pretending the jumbo box of Goldfish is a dumbbell to be remotely helpful.

"Four pounds of pure cracker power," he announces, curling the box in perfect form. "Could be a new workout trend. Snackercise."

An exasperated mother with twin toddlers shoots him a look that's half annoyance, half recognition. You've gotten used to the double takes, the whispers, the occasional autograph requests. Jack handles them with ease, always friendly, always gracious, never making it weird. It's one of the things you admire about him, even if you're still adjusting to dating someone whose face is plastered around the city.

Today, thankfully, the mother is too focused on keeping her children from dismantling the candy display to approach. Jack sets down the Goldfish box with a mock grunt of exertion and turns his attention back to you.

"Want me to scan stuff?" he offers, reaching for the box of protein bars you're holding.

"I've got it," you say quickly, having witnessed his "scanning skills" on previous shopping trips. The last time you let him take over at Target, you'd ended up with three accidental duplicates and one item that never made it into the system at all.

You're juggling a case of sparkling water and trying to scan your membership barcode from the app when you groan.

"It's not loading," you mutter, tapping frantically at your phone screen where the Costco app has frozen on a loading icon. "Can you just get my wallet? It's in the pink one, middle pocket of my bag."

Jack perks up like you just asked him to defuse a bomb. "On it," he says, already elbow deep in your tote. "Why do you carry so much stuff in here? Are you secretly a suburban mom?"

"Just grab the wallet," you sigh, shifting the sparkling water to your other arm. The self-checkout machine beeps impatiently, its screen flashing a demand for your membership ID.

"I'm exploring uncharted territory here," Jack narrates, rummaging dramatically. "I may need supplies. Possibly a headlamp."

The employee monitoring the area, a tall guy appearing about your age, wearing a faded Yankees cap, glances over with amusement. You feel a flash of self-consciousness, aware of how you and Jack must look: bickering over a shopping cart like you've been married for decades rather than dating for months. It's comfortable, though. That's what surprised you most about being with Jack, how quickly the comfort came, how easily you fell into each other's rhythms.

Jack pulls out a crushed receipt, a Tide pen, and a tampon like he's on Let's Make a Deal. "Is this a snack bar? Why do you have a Canadian penny in here? What year even is this?"

"Jack." Your patience is wearing thin. The case of water is getting heavier by the second, and the lady behind you is starting to make pointed throat-clearing noises.

"Okay, okay," he says, finally fishing out your wallet and flipping it open. "Looking for the ol' Costco membership—" He hands you the card, "wait a sec."

You pause mid-scan, turning slowly at the change in his tone. "What?"

He's gone still. Smirking.

"No way." His voice cracks slightly as he pulls out a small, glossy rectangle. "Is this? Babe, is this my rookie card?"

Your stomach drops. "Oh my God, Jack. Give me that."

The blood rushes to your face so quickly you feel light-headed. Of all the things he could have found: the ancient gum wrapper you keep forgetting to throw away, the fortune cookie paper with the embarrassingly accurate prediction about meeting a handsome stranger, even the crumpled CVS receipt from when you panic bought three different pregnancy tests after a condom mishap last month (all negative, thankfully), he had to find THAT.

"You carry this around?" he laughs, holding it up like he's found hidden treasure. "In your wallet. Next to your license. And your credit card. I’m literally next to your driver’s license.”

You lunge for it, nearly dropping the sparkling water. "I forgot it was even in there!"

It's a lie and you both know it. The card is in pristine condition, carefully tucked into one of the clear plastic sleeves in your wallet where most people would keep photos of loved ones or emergency contact information. You'd bought it four years ago, back when Jack was just starting to make headlines, back when you would never have dreamed you'd one day be sharing takeout on his couch while he complained about his coach's defensive strategy.

He dodges you like a child on a sugar high, rookie card still in hand. "You've been walking around with literal 18-year-old me in your purse this whole time?" He holds it toward you, pointing at his face. "Look at this haircut! I look like I was just let out of a Boy Scout meeting."

"Stop talking," you hiss, your face fully on fire as the self-checkout voice robotically reminds you to please place item in the bagging area.

The employee at the front is now openly watching your exchange, a slow smile of recognition spreading across his face as he realizes exactly who Jack is, and exactly which card Jack is holding. Great. Just what you need: a witness to your humiliation.

"Oh, this is rich," Jack says, shaking his head. "You, giving me crap about being cocky, but meanwhile? You've got a personal Jack Hughes shrine in your wallet."

You glare at him, wishing desperately for a sinkhole to open beneath your feet. "Do you want me to put that card in the trash right now?"

He snorts, finally slipping it back into its slot with fake reverence. "Absolutely not. That thing's probably worth, like, eight bucks."

"Try a couple hundred," the employee chimes in helpfully, then immediately holds up his hands in surrender when you shoot him a death glare. "Sorry. Just saying."

"See?" Jack grins. "You're carrying around, what, Nathaniel's monthly rent in your wallet? That's dedication." He gestures to the Rangers fan, who apparently is named Nathaniel and who apparently needs to mind his own business.

You snatch the wallet out of Jack's hands, cheeks still burning, and you return to scanning items with aggressive efficiency.

"So," Jack says, leaning against the bagging area with his arms crossed, watching you work with infuriating amusement. "When exactly were you planning to tell me you were a fan?"

"I wasn't hiding it," you mutter, scanning a jar of almond butter with unnecessary force. "I told you I watched hockey."

"Yeah, but you never mentioned having a collection of hockey cards. Of me, specifically."

"It's not a collection. It's one card."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Mm-hmm. And are there others at home? Like, do you have a special album or something? Holy shit, do you have posters?"

"No," you say, a beat too quickly.

The truth, which you would rather die than admit right now, is that you do own exactly one poster. It's from a sports magazine spread three years ago, and it's been carefully rolled up and stashed in the back of your closet since your third date with Jack, when things started to feel serious enough that you realized having his face on your wall would be deeply weird.

"You hesitated," Jack says triumphantly. "There are posters."

"There are no posters," you insist, though your traitorous complexion is probably giving you away. You've always been a terrible liar, a fact Jack discovered during your first attempt at playing poker together, when he cleaned you out of chocolate-covered almonds (your chosen betting currency) within twenty minutes.

"You know," he says, taking pity on you and beginning to bag some of the scanned items, "it's kind of cute."

"It's embarrassing," you correct him, focusing intently on scanning a pack of chicken breasts.

"Why? You're a hockey fan who happened to start dating a hockey player. That's not weird."

"It's weird if I was specifically a fan of you before we met."

"Were you?" he asks, and there's a note of genuine curiosity beneath the teasing now.

You sigh, pausing your scanning marathon. "I watched your games sometimes. I thought you were good." You look up at him, considering how much to reveal. "I liked how you played, like you were actually having fun, not just doing a job. It was... I don't know. It made the game more exciting."

Jack's expression softens, the teasing glint fading into something warmer. "That's... actually really nice."

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn, but you're smiling despite yourself.

"Too late," he says, tapping his temple. "Already filed under 'Evidence My Girlfriend Thinks I'm Amazing.'"

The self-checkout machine beeps demandingly, reminding you that you've paused too long between scans. You return to the task at hand, but the tension has dissipated, replaced by a comfortable rhythm as Jack bags while you scan.

"You know," he says after a moment, carefully arranging a tub of laundry detergent next to the candles, "I have some of your work saved on my phone."

You look up, surprised. "What?"

"Those illustrations you did for that children's book about the penguin? I downloaded them. They're in a special album." He shrugs like it's no big deal, but there's a hint of vulnerability in the admission. "I show them to the guys sometimes. Demko's kid loves the one with the penguin on the skateboard."

"You... show my work to your teammates?" The thought of Jack's hockey buddies, men whose names appear on jerseys and in ESPN headlines, looking at your penguin drawings is surreal.

"Yeah. I'm a fan." He says it simply, without the teasing edge from before.

You don't know what to say to that, so you just keep scanning, but something warm unfurls in your chest. It's been like this since the beginning, moments of revelation that catch you off guard. Reminders that beneath the public persona and the franchise player status, Jack is just... Jack. A guy who gets excited about Costco samples and saves your artwork on his phone.

Jack leans in, way too pleased with himself, as you scan the last few items. "I'm starting to think you were a fan before you were my girlfriend."

"I hate you," you say, but there's no heat in it.

"No you don't."

You glance at him. He's grinning like an idiot, casually bagging your industrial-size trail mix like this isn't the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"Okay, maybe I don't," you mutter, swiping your credit card.

He bumps your shoulder. "It's okay, babe. I'd carry your rookie card around too. If you had one."

"What would a children's book illustrator's rookie card even look like?" you wonder, punching in your PIN.

"First professional doodle," Jack says thoughtfully. "Maybe that red panda you showed me, the one you drew for your niece's birthday card."

"That was awful. I gave him six toes."

"It had character," Jack insists. "Very avant-garde."

You roll your eyes so hard it's a miracle they stay in your head. "Let's go before you start reciting your career stats to the family behind us."

"Oh, I would never—" He pauses, then turns to the man waiting in line. "Did you know she keeps my rookie card in her wallet?"

"JACK."

He laughs, loud and unrestrained, as you grab his arm and drag him away from the checkout area, your face flaming all over again.

"You're the worst," you inform him as you navigate toward the exit, receipt clutched in your hand.

"And yet, you keep my rookie card with you at all times," he counters, skillfully steering the cart around a display of seasonal patio furniture. "Makes a guy wonder what else you might be hiding."

"My deep regret about agreeing to date you?"

"Nah, that's written all over your face." He grins. "I'm thinking more like, do you have a scrapbook? Did you write my name with hearts around it in your diary? Ooh, did you have one of those fathead wall decals?"

You stop walking, fixing him with your most serious expression. "Jack. If you ever want me to sleep over at your place again, you will drop this immediately."

He considers this for a moment, then mimes zipping his lips. "Dropped."

"Thank you."

You resume walking, pushing through the exit doors into the parking lot. The late afternoon sun hits your face, warm against the crisp autumn air. Jack moves ahead to guide the cart, his shoulders relaxed under his faded blue henley, hair slightly mussed from where he ran his hands through it while deliberating between two different coffee brands for twenty minutes.

"I forgot to ask," he says as you reach the car, "are you coming to the game on Thursday?"

"I have that deadline for the fox book illustrations," you remind him, helping to load bags into the trunk of his SUV. "But I could come to Saturday's game maybe?"

Jack nods, lifting the case of water with ease. "Saturday works. Oh, don't forget, there's that charity thing on Sunday."

"Gala thingy?"

"Yeah." He slams the trunk closed. "Bring your wallet though."

You narrow your eyes, pausing with the shopping cart halfway to the return corral. "Why?"

"In case anyone asks for your autograph," he says with exaggerated seriousness. "After, you can show them my rookie card, tell them you knew me when."

You groan, abandoning the cart to march back to him. "I swear to God, Hughes—"

But before you can finish your threat, he catches you around the waist, pulling you against him. "You're cute when you're mortified," he murmurs, and then he's kissing you, right there in the Costco parking lot, with the orange glow of sunset painting everything gold.

When he pulls back, you keep your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. "I'm never taking you shopping again," you inform him.

"Yes you are," he says confidently. "You need someone to reach the top shelves."

"I can bring a stepladder."

"A stepladder won't tell you interesting facts about protein powder or help you pick out deli meat."

"Those are selling points?"

He kisses you again, quickly this time. "Admit it. Shopping with me is an adventure."

"A nightmare," you correct him, but you're smiling. "A recurring nightmare where I'm trapped in Costco forever with a hockey player who thinks jumbo sized everything is a personality trait."

Jack laughs, releasing you to retrieve the abandoned shopping cart. "Come on, nightmare's over for today. Let's go home and figure out where we're going to put that giant candle in your apartment."

"Your apartment," you counter. "You bought it, you store it."

"Fine, but you have to remind me to burn it. And not burn the apartment down."

You watch him return the cart, the easy grace in his movements, the way he nods politely to an older couple walking past. When he returns, he slides into the driver's seat beside you, immediately reaching for your hand across the console.

"So," he says as he starts the engine, "should I be concerned about any other professional athletes you might have rookie cards of? Am I competing with, like, the entire NHL draft class of 2019?"

You squeeze his hand, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "And here I thought you'd dropped it."

"I'm just saying, I should know if I'm in an open relationship with you and a wallet full of hockey cards."

"Just drive, Hughes."

My Patreon, where you can find exclusive fics not posted anywhere else: HERE

[munsster]

sharing a bed (trope bingo)

A/N: i could melt (pun not intended. you’ll see) this trope is literally my fav, all my fics would be about it if i could… (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're cold, Bucky's a living heater. Need I say more? 1.2k words

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, sharing a bed, cuddling, nervous/borderline horny Bucky, pet names (doll, sweetheart)

You should have made this decision before your fingertips went numb. November in a northern motel room found you freezing. In basketball shorts and a crewneck, no less. You should have been in California by now, but Bucky has been dragging his feet since Maine. Though, he does drive more than half the time, so it's a sacrifice you had been willing to take.

There's no snow on the ground, but you can feel the beginnings of it on the damp pavement. Your socks are soaked through, and you cringe making a mental note to burn them. You cross your arms over your chest and tuck your fingers under your armpits, jaw clacking as you shiver. The heater in your room scuttled hurriedly to a wheezing stop five minutes after whacking it alive.

Now you're shifting from left to right outside Bucky's door with your blood about to run purple. He hollered something through the door when you knocked the second time. It was either a it's unlocked or a don't come in and you don't trust your hearing enough to distinguish between the two at midnight.

"Bucky," you whine, resting your forehead just below the peephole and trying to shake the low beating sound from your ears. You lift your head. Footsteps then a rattling chain, and he whips the door open.

"Why are you up?"

"What?" How could he be annoyed right now when you're freezing your ass off and you can practically feel the heat rolling out of his room in waves. "I'm cold."

"Well... what am I supposed to do about that?"

You roll your eyes and glare up at him. You could swear he's doing it on purpose. You could swear he's making mental bets just to play with you. Right now he's betting all his cash on who'll crack first. His bet's on you. It always is.

"James, I swear to fucking God—I will walk back to Brooklyn if you don't—"

"Jesus, don't have an aneurism, doll. Come in," he mumbles. You follow him into the little square motel room: one bed, one table, half a bathroom. Plus a TV that only plays soaps and, half the time, crackles with static. The door shuts, and you sigh. You're swaddled by heat; the blood gushes back into the tip of your nose. You can feel your joints again.

"Take this." He tosses a coat at you. At you. It's heavy and green and thick. It's army grade. "Put it on." So you put it on and zip it up. He chuckles at the sight of you because the jacket is massive: down to your knees, quarter-foot past your fingertips. It dwarfs you. It's incredible.

"I feel like a gym teacher."

"What?"

"It's a... mm… nevermind," you hum, "'M tired." Your eyes sink shut, and he watches you from the bed, entertained by your sleep-standing act. For a second, he thinks you're actually gonna fall asleep like that. But then your eyes snap wide open and he looks away.

Bucky shuffles under the sheets, and you watch him curiously through the window of the coat's hood. You suppose you'd missed the fact that he's wearing only boxers, completely shirtless with his cropped hair messily flared around his head. You start to sweat.

He looks up when you whine. "What now?"

"... It's hot."

"You're killin' me, doll."

"I know, I'm sorry," you huff, hands fiddling the flannel insides of the hot jacket sleeves. He watches you struggle to glance at the floor and becomes flush with pity for you. He sighs.

"Alright, hon, take that off and c'mere. We'll get you warm, hmm? Come here."

You flail your arm before latching onto the metal zipper tab and tugging it down with a hissing bzzzz. Bucky watches you relax and let the coat slump to the floor before you peel your socks off and toss them in the small metal trashcan by the door. You pad your way to the empty side of the bed and pat the moth-eaten comforter a few times, smoothing your hand over the soft cotton.

"Don't be shy now. I probably won't bite," he teases.

"You piss me off, Barnes."

"Oh, feel free to freeze your ass off in your room, sweetheart. I'm doin' you a favor."

You harrumph and swing your legs onto the mattress, sliding yourself under the sheets and tucking the blankets under your chin. You face the door, and Bucky settles in beside you, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between you. He faces the wall.

"Night, Bucky."

"Goodnight."

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, and you don't know when Bucky got so close. Or when you turned around. What you do know is that Bucky runs red hot in the middle of the night. Or maybe all the time, but you've never been skin-to-skin in the day. Hell could freeze over and Bucky would still be an inferno.

Sometime between two and three, you tossed around and ended up facing him as he crept closer unconsciously. His hands felt empty in dreams about dancing, so he reached into the darkness and tucked his fingers into the crooks of your knees to draw you into his warm body. On instinct—and because you're still in need of thawing—you curl into him and let your heart beat comfortably alongside his.

Bucky's a talker. He's a vocal sleeper. Good thing his deal was talking. Becca got saddled with sleep walking, and he remembers Ma asking him to install an extra lock high up to keep her from wandering out at twilight. Again. They'd found her mumbling at a brick wall half a block away one night and decided it was for the best.

Now he's rambling on about goats, describing their rough coats as he nuzzles into your navel. His palm spread over your back, he keeps you close, taut to every bit of his body, your leg draped over his waist.

He moans. Loud. And you shift in your sleep, fingers moving to cup the back of his head, brushing through his soft hair. His scalp is hot, and you sigh lazily as you melt further into his tight skin and smooth muscle. If either of you had woken up, it would've been a bloodbath. But for now, it's peaceful, and a dove coos from a lamppost outside.

A couple of times, you open your eyes but find yourself so disoriented, you can't bother to assume it's anymore than a dream and pass out again. At the crack of dawn, Bucky's lashes flutter open, and each of his veins flows with new life and the rising sun. It takes a second for him to realize he's breathing in the warmth of your skin. And he doesn't hate it.

He falls back asleep.

In the morning, you're both too busy adjusting to central standard time to register that you'd been pressed up close and personal all night. Too busy to acknowledge the comfort you both found in each others arms. And hands.

Over breakfast at the twenty-four-hour diner, he smiles meekly, and you blink down at your short stack like nothing happened. Like nothing ever will.

marvel masterlist

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mdni][girldad Roy][enemies to lovers][mlw][his tragedy of a life is not comically accurate][soft tragedy][fingering][unprotected p in v][creampie][rough sex, I think?][vibrator][Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty][squirting][slight dacryphilia][watersports mention][pronebone][mating press][spit]

"Who comes to a dick appointment without condoms?" Roy hisses, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric of his tank top stretched so tightly that you're half-expecting it to start ripping in front of your eyes.

You push past Roy, stepping into his apartment and you look around at the state.

It's not untidy.... It's... Lived in. Disarranged throw pillows, a few crumpled papers tossed around the small trashcan that's located just beside the large, flat screen TV. There's a few scattered toys, a Barbie doll without it's shoe and it's....

Oddly reminding you of yourself whenever you do this.

"What kind of man doesn't have his own condoms?" You spit back, picking up the doll and dropping down on the sofa, grabbing the nearest thing with bristles, and combing through the long, blonde hair.

"The kind of man who— you can braid hair?" Roy questions, his brows knitting into a contemplative expression and you nod your head, as your manicured fingers card through the plastic strands, twisting hair over hair. A fishtail braid.

"Can you braid my kid's hair?"

The question is.... A surprise, more than anything, and your hands falter, before you look up at Roy, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Sure." You shrug, dismissing it before you set the doll on the coffee table before lifting yourself from the seat, before staring at Roy with narrowed eyes.

"Take your pants off."

"Shit, at least romance me.." Roy grumbles, mock-offense lacing his rugged features before he scoops you up, a muscular forearm bracketing your ass and a scarred finger hooks around your chain, tugging you closer into a kiss.

Roy's lips are the furthest thing from moisturized, a prominent crack down the centre of his bottom lip that occasionally catches on your own lip and you smile into the kiss, the ticklish feeling making you laugh into the kiss.

"Bitch, don't you own Vaseline?"

Roy smiles into the kiss, dimples in his cheeks deepening and his hand pushes open his bedroom door. "No," he hums, before tossing you on his bed, the springs creek just a bit as you bounce on the mattress, and his hands reach for the edge of his shirt, tugging it up his torso.

Very unceremoniously, might I add.

"But I've got lube." Grabbing an unlabelled bottle from the top of his dresser, and tossing it in your direction, ignoring the thud of the hard plastic hitting your forehead, as well as your cursing.

"This doesn't even have a label!" You hiss, one hand holding the bottle of lube and the other, rubbing your forehead with the heel of your palm.

"Gas station said it was lube." Roy shrugs his broad shoulders, before he crawls over the messy nest of sheets and bedding, grabbing your hips and tugging your basketball shorts from your hips.

Leaving you in your—

"Do you have to wear granny panties every time you come see me?" Roy groans, his leafy pools locked on the pale blue panties you're wearing. A white lace trim, and daisies dotted over the fabric that leaves far too much to the imagination.

"Do you have to be named Roy every time I see you?" You say his name like some kind of slur, a tone that isn't missed on him as he hooks his fingers into your panties.

"Oh, fuck off." He rolls his eyes, and you huff, lifting your hips just enough for him to pull the cotton down your ass. "I was named after my uncle."

"What was his name? Roy Rogers McFreely?" You snort, and you barely get to laugh at your own joke before you're roughly tossed onto your stomach, with your legs spread obscenely and a painful swat lands on your ass, before Roy's rough palm smooths over the stinging burn.

"Very funny." Roy huffs. "Now give me the lube."

"You're not using gas station lube on me." You deadpan, looking over your shoulder with a scowl. Your brows knitted and perfect lips tugged into a frown that just made him wanna kiss them.

Of course not now.

Roy's calloused fingers are occupied with a more interesting pair of lips that didn't call him a soulless ginger on missions, and his middle finger circles your clit in a way that makes your back arch just a bit sluttier.

"It's got an expiration date." Roy groans in frustration.

As though an expiration date makes it better.

You flip the bottle over in your hand, looking for the date.

"This says June." You state. "And what month are we in?" Roy hums, his fingers still circling your clit as he leans over you, inspecting the bottle with you.

"January." You deadpan. "Of three years after this bottle's expiration year."

"You know, I don't appreciate being spoken to like I'm some kind of idiot." Roy scowls at you, gingery brows knitted into a scowl, his pinkish upper lip curled in distaste at your tone.

"Well maybe next time, don't be an id—" Your voice cracks and a shaky gasp leaves you when two fingers begin to fuck into your gooey cunt. And Roy hums, resting his chin on your shoulder and he tips his head to look at you.

A cocky grin on his face and it seems like all your energy goes into placing a hand on his face, and pushing him lightly.

"Nice try." Roy mocks. "I'm entirely sober. I'm basically Superman."

"If he—... lacked a soul."

"Say I have a soul."

Roy has your knees forced apart by his muscular thighs, fingers fucking into your cunt while his free hand holds a wand vibrator to your throbbing clit. Your legs shake, puffy pussy glistening with his spit and your wetness, combined into a slick mess that trilled down your messy folds.

"I—I'm... 'm not a liar..." You whine, your hands fisting at the sheets, the edge of your T-shirt between your teeth, your cheeks flushed and messy with tears that had threatened to spill from one too many ruined orgasms.

Roy tuts you, moving away the vibrator away from you and pulling his fingers out of you roughly. And he takes the time, the corners of his mouth twitching, before pulling into a devious grin at the sight of your hole spasming around nothing.

And those glistening fingers make their way to your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and those eyes alone.

Perfect, pretty emerald eyes.

Fanned by pretty, Disney ass lashes, thick brows and the lightest flickers of blue in his eyes. And you suck on his fingers.

Savouring the taste of his fingertips that seem to constantly taste like the feathery end of an arrow, mixed with his spit and your cum, and you whine around his knuckles. You slobber. You whine, you cry.

Your toes curl when that vibrator meets your needy clit, tracing up and down your slick slit, and you barely notice that you're biting down on Roy's fingers when your head tips back. And you squirt.

Soaking Roy from his chest, to his boxers, and the sheets below you. Roy doesn't register your teeth digging into his fingers, only focusing on the messy cum that trickles down the creases of your ass and he hums, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

And inspecting the teeth indentations.

"Good thing we've never sixty-nined." He mumbles, almost to himself, before his hand, soaked with your spit, slaps your pussy.

Your body rocks, your tummy dipping inward with each flinch of pleasure-pain, whimpers slipping past your kiss-swollen lips. All red from Roy sucking on them while ruining your orgasms and he leans forward, pressing a kiss against your temple.

A soft, gentle action that anchors you in this moment, but before you can say anything, anything at all, your thighs are in a long distance relationship and you're tasked with holding that vibrator to your throbbing clit while Roy pushes into you.

It's a sensation that's painfully familiar.

That almost burn that makes your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress to get away from him, and then, that slow, painful pulling out that has your hips lifting to take more of him.

And you glance down at where Roy slowly feeds your pussy. Inch by inch, as he carefully takes the vibrator from your hand, resting it where he thinks it needs to be.

And God, is he right.

Not directly on your clit, but shy of it, to the right and your lashes flutter, the back of your head resting against the headboard and Roy groans, his hips bumping against yours in the slowest, deepest rhythm.

For someone who makes you squirt with how rough he is, honestly, he doesn't even fuck.

Roy makes love.

90's, R&B, silk shirt and crying in the rain type of love. His hips don't stutter, don't falter, all that he's focused on is taking you to pound town on a safe journey and getting you home in time to feed your turtle.

"Don't close your legs, don't close your legs." He breathes out, switching off the vibrator and setting it aside, before angling his hips.

The blunt, rosy tip of his cock nudges against a spot that makes your kiss-swollen lips form the cutest 'o' shape, eyes nearly crossing and that's the spot.

And Roy begins to fuck.

Hard, messy thrusts that leave a creamy ring around the base of him, his palm coming to rest just above your mound and pressure begins to build like a fucking wildfire. And you babble, eyes welling up with tears as each stroke brings you closer to that precipice of pleasure that makes you believe that Roy might be God's favourite.

Because no fucking way ANYONE would have dick this good.

Unless maybe, Batman.

And Roy leans forward, a hand roughly grasping your chin, and he forces his thumb between your lips, watching the way your eyes glaze over when he presses down on your tongue. That mind-numbing sensation of his cock stilling and twitching against your gummy walls makes your brain fuzzy and all you do is stick your tongue out, catching the spit that leaves his stupidly perfect mouth.

And Roy smears his messy, wet hand across your face, before grabbing your chin again, fingers digging into your cheeks and he leans forward.

Pressing a sloppy, hard kiss to your lips, tasting your spit and cum on your lips and he groans, his hips pistoning in and out of you with no fucking warning.

The headboard hits against the wall, the sheets rustle and the loudest sound is the messy squelch of your sopping pussy as he fucks you into oblivion.

"You're so fucking perfect." Roy pants, kissing you like there's no fucking tomorrow and god, your blood is rushing in your ears and the sound is deafening.

Especially when you feel those skilled fingertips sinking to your hair, your walls fluttering and spasming as you gush, pushing his cock out of you and he places the most gentle kiss against your forehead.

You don't drink enough water to be able to push out liquids like this. But that's not your problem or even the mildest concern.

Not when your face is pushed into the pillow that smells like his musk and cologne, not to mention that tiniest hint of sweat. And definitely not when he's reaching over you, muscular and scarred hands gripping the headboard tightly, as he slowly slips into you.

Gushy walls swallowing him whole, and Roy's chest presses against your back, his face buried in the curve of your neck and he presses the sweetest kiss against your pulse.

Sucking marks into your skin, his hand coming to wrap around your throat just a bit, fingertips digging into the slight plush and his hips fucking roll.

Cock pummeling into you at that slow, passionate pace and Roy hums quietly. "You like it? I've been taking a— hah— a Spanish dance class with Jason."

And you let out a laugh, a breathy giggle and you whine as he nudges at your cervix.

"N—not enough words to say how gay that is." You mock, your hands clawing and gripping at the sheets, your brain fuzzy and your tongue lolling just a bit.

And Roy laughs. A low, raspy chuckle.

"Oh, you're really gonna get it now." And he lifts, just a bit, his fingers curling into your scalp and tugging your hair back, enough to expose your throat.

"Now... 'm gonna fuck you 'til you piss yourself."

[ebodebo]

my bestie @lavenderdaisychain got me hooked on the pitt and yk i love nothing more than sexualizing an old man, BUT this is pure ER angst i fear.

(cw: talks of children dying)

-

You come into the ER after having been out.

In a fucking kindergarten classroom.

Saw three kids die, one in your arms.

It never got easier.

Especially with children.

Anyone who says it does is a liar.

Or a heartless fuck.

You trudge into the ER, surgical gown soaked in blood.

Eyes bloodshot and hands shaking.

Dr. Langdon is perched on the triage desk, who you presume is antagonizing Nurse Evans with his “wicked sense of humor.”

You don’t care.

You can’t even fucking think straight.

You need your husband.

Now.

“Where—where is he?” Your voice is timid, and you tremble when approaching the desk.

“He’s suturing up a patient in…” Evans turns to look at you, eyes widening at the sight of you. “Are you alright?” She asks, voice offering slight comfort.

You shake your head, lips pursing as tears spill down your cheeks. “No. I, I need to see him,” you begin. “Can you, can you tell him I’ll be in the, the lounge?” You sniffle through your words and, by some miracle, finish your sentence.

“Of course, honey,” Evans says sympathetically.

“I’ll tell him if I see him,” Dr. Langdon voices, attempting to offer you a little comfort.

You nod, your head lulling as you turn around slowly, feet magically carrying you to the lounge.

You sink to the floor behind a trash can, head in your hands. 

The wet blood spreads across your face, and you want to scream. 

You quietly sob instead.

And you sit on that cold, sheet vinyl flooring for what feels like ages until you hear the door gently open.

“Honey,” Dr. Robinavitch says into the air, unsure of where you are, closing the door behind him.

He looks down at the floor, where blood splatters lay sporadic and random, leading to behind the trashcan.

Following the splatters, he wanders to the trashcan, eyes fixating on you, head in your knees as you heave silently.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coaxes, moving to sit next to you, hand reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear; all he sees is fresh blood on your skin. “Are you bleeding?” His voice is noticeably concerned.

“They were just ki, kids,” you say in a hushed voice. “They didn’t even know how to subtract.” Your voice is quavering, cracking.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, hand brushing against your arm. “I know.”

You look up at him, eyes fatigued and raw. “I, I don’t know what to do,” you stumble over your words. “Their blood is on my hands.”

While their blood was literally coating your skin, a haunting reminder of what happened.

You also felt heavy guilt for not being able to save them.

“I saw the file,” he begins. “Internal bleeding, organ damage, blown spinal cord,” he grabs your hand, holding it tightly as he stares into your eyes. “Even the best doctor in the world couldn’t have saved them.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t stop your brain from being riddled with guilt and what-ifs.

“I just…” You trail off, more tears spilling onto your cheeks. “The parents screamed at me. Said it was my fault.”

“Their kids died. They’re hurting,” he delicately says, squeezing your hand. “Whatever doctor was there would have gotten the end of that,” he murmurs.

You nod along, pursing your lips. “It doesn’t hurt any less,” you murmur.

“No. It doesn’t,” he agrees.

“The, the blood is cold,” you speak softly, with a frown.

He tips his head back, eyes narrowing in sympathy. “Can I clean you?”

You nod lightly. 

He helps you stand and moves you to a chair to sit as he quietly moves to grab some gauze and some diluted bleach solution to gently clean the blood off your face.

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, wiping off the majority of the blood covering your face.

Your lip quips slightly before the anxiety claws up your brain. “I still feel like shit, Mike,” your voice is just above a whisper.

“Yeah. It happens,” he moves over your nose, collecting the last remnant of the blood.

“Does it ever get easier? Do you ever not feel like shit?” Your voice carries some desperation.

“Truth or bullshit?” He asks, tipping his head towards you.

You think for a moment. “Bullshit.”

He nods and lets out a short, dry laugh. “We get over everything and never feel like the assholes.”

You release an airy laugh. “Okay, now the truth.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose. “You never get over the things you see. The things you do. But, you have to keep moving,” he stands, tossing the used gauze in a hazard bin. “Because for those three kids, ten need help too,” he shrugs. “You have to be okay with seeing people not walk, but then turn around and be happy for the people that do,” he sits back on the chair.

“It is nice to have someone with so much experience. Been in the field a long time when I haven’t,” you give him a half smile. 

“Christ. You make me sound like such a pervert. Just going after a young woman,” he lets out an amused laugh.

"I guess I am pretty spry," you jest, the shared humor lightening the mood. "I'm sure my youthful stride intimidates you."

He rolls his eyes playfully, a wide grin plastered on his face.

You tilt your head to the side. "You should probably head out, huh?" You sink into the plastic chair. "Your pager has been going off since you came in," you begin before you smile at him. "Someone other than me needs their handsome ER doctor."

He smiles lightly. "If you need me, I'll stay," his tone was earnest. 

You shake your head. "I'll be fine. Go save some lives, doc." The respect in your voice is palpable.

He nods, standing before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Shift ends at 10," he begins moving towards the door as his pager blares. "Wanna grab food from that Chinese place you like?" 

You nod, chewing your lip. "Sounds good to me." As the door closes behind him, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of relief and worry.

He pulls the door open, standing halfway in and halfway out.

"I love you," he says zealously. 

"I love you too," you say back with equal passion, the depth of your feelings evident in your voice.

Then, he goes straight back into the fray.

You smile to yourself because you couldn't have picked a better man.

He was able to de-escalate situations and escalate them on your behalf. 

He loved you perfectly.

-

author's note: i need this man.

[zealctry]

actual picture of Hidan in the morning.

[whiskeymeaway92]

Jason Todd x sick reader

Summary: Jason leaves for a mission and comes back to reader being sick with the flu. He takes care of her. Just fluff really.

*unedited*

———————- :Readmore:

Jason was flitting around your shared apartment packing his duffle bag with the essentials, aka weapons he had stashed around. He was filling you in on what info he could.

“I don’t have an exact timeline, but I’d estimate four days, a week tops. Anything beyond that I’ll try to get a message to you”.

“Okay Jay, just be care- *achoo” careful. “Achoo”, “achoo” and come back safe.”

“You okay sweetheart? Are you getting sick? Sneezing is always the first sign of you getting sick.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, probably just dust. Do you have everything you need for your mission? First aid kit? Snacks so that you actually eat something?”

“Yeah baby, someone already put both of those things in my duffle”. Jason chuckled as he walked over and wrapped you in his arms. “M’gonna miss you, be good and stay safe for me okay? Keep this place locked up tight, you know I worry when I’m gone”.

You snuggled into his chest taking in his scent and savoring this last snuggle before he was gone for a bit. You were used to these kinds of trips but being apart was never going to be your favorite thing. “I will Jaybird, promise.” You shivered in his arms as you felt chilly all of a sudden. Jay just snuggled you closer and kissed the top of your head. After another moment he released you and stepped back to zip up his duffle. He swung it over his shoulder before stepping back into your space. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply, he then pressed his forehead to yours and said “Bye baby, I love you, be back as soon as I can”.

“Bye Jay, I love you too, stay safe. He nodded and then headed out the door with all of his gear packed away where no one would see it since it was the middle of the day. Jason was going with Dick, Conner, and Tim to metropolis to track down a lead on a joint case they had asked him for help on. You liked that Jason was consulting on a case with them, you liked that he wasn’t working alone like he usually was, it gave you some comfort. You shivered again and went to check the thermostat, it was at 70 so why were you freezing cold?

Two days later you knew the answer to that question, the flu. You had chills, a fever, and zero will to live. You laid in bed with every blanket you owned, a box of tissues and the trashcan next to you Just in case you needed to throw up. Luckily you hadn’t done that at all today, maybe that was a sign things were looking up? You hadn’t had the energy to shower or eat, or do anything but lay there all day. You were exhausted from shivering and it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep.

That night Jason came home, this time through the window. He set his duffle down, took off his helmet and went searching for you. He figured you would be asleep but he did not expect to see the bedroom is such disarray. There were so many blankets on the bed he almost didn’t see you tucked into the center of them all. The trashcan next to you was full of tissues and you were cuddling the box. He sighed and mumbled to himself “sneezing is always the first sign, I knew she was getting sick.” He took a minute to change out of his tactical gear once he was in sweatpants and a t shirt he started to peel back the blanket layers until he could get to you. You were clammy and shivering and when he put a hand to your forehead you were burning up. He shook you gently “baby wake up, I’m home, I’m gonna take care of you now.” You whimpered and clutched the tissue box closer but you cracked one eye open and murmured “Jay? It’s so cold, I need the blankets, please”.

“Shhh I know baby I know, I’m gonna get you in a nice warm bath in just a minute. You have a fever, how long have you been feeling crummy?”

“The sneezes, you were right, it only got worse from there. I spent most of yesterday throwing up, today I’m just freezing, everything hurts and I’m so sleepy.”

“Okay, let’s get you up, the sooner you get cleaned up and warm the sooner you can go back to bed. When was the last time you ate something? When you answered with shrug Jason added feeding you to the list of things that needed to happen before you could go back to sleep. He let you lay there a few more minutes while he started a bath and then he came back, lifted you from bed ignoring your protests, and carried you to the bathroom. He stripped your pajamas off you and got you in the warm water. You looked exhausted so he did all the work. He shampooed and conditioned your hair, he washed your face with your favorite face wash, he soaped up a washcloth and gently cleaned your whole body. when he was done and you were thoroughly rinsed he set the tub to drain and helped you out of it, wrapping you in a towel he has tossed in the dryer to warm up. You hummed in pleasure at the warm cotton and Jason picked you up and set you on the bathroom counter. He couldn’t leave your hair wet when you were already sick and cold so he got out your brush and hair dryer and while he was no hairstylist, he made sure it was all dry and there were no tangles. You insisted you could get dressed on your own, feeling guilty for him doing everything. So Jason took that time to strip the bed and get the sheets in the wash and he got out the flannel sheets they used in the winter and put those on. He would need to swap them back once you were feeling better but he didn’t care, he wanted you warm and cozy. Just then the doorbell rang and Jason redirected his attention to the food he had ordered. Soup dumplings and noodles he had ordered from the takeout place down the street, one of your favorites and as close to an actual bowl of soup as he was going to get you to eat since you were not a fan of soup. He quickly set up the food on the coffee table and went back to check on you. You were already looking a little better, although he could tell this was taking all of the little energy you had.

“Just one more thing sweets and then you can sleep. I need you to eat something, it will help, I ordered food it’s all set up to eat while we snuggle on the couch.”

You hesitated but started to shuffle towards the living room following him, with one longing glance at your newly made bed that looked so incredible cozy. Jason is probably tired too, I’m sure he didn’t want to do any of the the task completed in the last hour either. One more thing you told yourself, keep some food down and then you could both rest.

“Thank you babe….this looks great and all but…how much do I have to eat before you let us go to bed?” You looking at him with pleading eyes and he chuckled warmly.

“I’ll make a deal with you. If you can tell me the last time you ate and what it was, I’ll put this food in the fridge and we can go to bed right now. If you can’t do that then I have to assume the last thing you ate was the pb&j you ate with me before I left and that was three days ago. In that case I’ll need you to do your best and try to finish the soup dumplings at least and drink a quarter of that electrolyte drink. You said you were throwing up yesterday you need to rehydrate at the very least. Oh and I need you to take that medicine beside your food, should help bring down that fever.”

You gave him an exhausted look, truth is that pb&j probably was the last thing you ate. You just didn’t currently care, so you grumbled at him.

“I hate when you decide to be all logical, you don’t even worry about yourself this much, when was the last time youuu ate huh?”

Jason just patted the seat on the couch next to him and smirked

“I have this wonderful woman who packed me some protein bars, electrolyte drinks just like that one and some beef jerky. I made sure I ate all of it while I was gone just for you. You worry about me and I worry about you, it’s just how it works love. Come sit and eat I’ll put on something on tv for us.”

Well you couldn’t exactly argue with that now could you.

Forty minutes later you had managed to eat all of your dumplings, and drink half of the electrolyte drink. You were now snuggled up with Jason watching the game show network, or well he was watching the game show network. You were passed out on his chest snoring lightly wrapped up in the warmth of his arms and the blanket he wrapped you in. He let you sleep there until the episode of Family Feud was over and then he slowly maneuvered the two of you, doing his best not to wake you, into a sitting position. He then readjusted you until he could easily pick you up and carry you to bed. As he stood with you in his arms you stirred some but kept your eyes firmly shut muttering something he couldn’t understand.

“Shh baby, I got you, it’s time to crawl into that cozy bed like you wanted to do earlier.”

You hummed in content clearly liking the sound of that. Jason got you all tucked in and was just about to step out and clean up the living room before taking his own shower before bed when you reached for him and snagged his hand making him bend down to your level and kiss your forehead.

“Jay?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I’m sorry you had to come home from a long trip and take care of me, I thought I had one more day to pull myself together before you came home.”

Jason cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so you were looking at him.

“Y/n, baby, love of my life…Shut up.” You both chuckled “No seriously sweets, I will always take care of you, happily for that matter. Just like you take care of me. You don’t ever need to feel like you need to pull yourself together for me, let me do that, let me gather you up and put you back together when you need it okay? I love you and that’s part of loving you, understand?”

“Yeah Jay, I understand. I love you too, so much. Thank you.”

“Always baby. Now get some rest okay, I’m going to go clean up and shower and then I’ll come join you and snuggle you until you feel better.”

You smiled and mumbled a “that sounds wonderful” as you snuggled down into the blankets more and your eyelids grew heavy again. Jason just looked at you for a moment with a soft smile on his face Before he moved for the living room. He cleaned up the food and then wiped down all the surfaces with a disinfectant to try to start de-germing the apartment. He put the sheets he washed earlier into the dryer and then snagged a quick shower before he pulled on some boxers and crawled into bed beside you. He was going to overheat, he knew that, but if you were warm that’s all he cared about. He wrapped an arm around you pulled you into his chest, letting out a content sigh as you cuddled in close and then he too drifted off for some much needed rest.

[aae-tuu]

POV: Come On Kiss Me And Bite Me

Ft: M. Shishikuno (Phantom Busters!generaldating headcanons, I’m so in love with him you guys, fluff, crack, gn!reader)

Mogari Shishikuno

I am so sorry

LMAOOO THATS IT

He actually doesn’t know how the hell he bagged you but he just goes along with it cause he doesn’t want to question things and have you leave him

Love language is definitely physical touch

He will be all over you and will be delighted if you’re all over him too

He’s the type to not care and just lets you do whatever to him

When his hot partner wants to touch him who is he to complain, or even worse: say no

Nah he’d rather eat 1000 spirits in one sitting than say no to having your hands on him

Speaking of spirits

Will exorcise any spirits that try and cause you any harm

Bro goes nom nom on double time when it comes to you and bro once again does not give a single shit what happens to him because at the end of the day, he wants you to be safe (especially from his clan cause those people are CRAZYYY)

Anyways

Trashcan boyfriend😝😝

Literally will inhale your food for you if you can’t finish it for whatever reason

You’re out eating and the meal portion is bigger than you thought? Dw. He’ll scoop some off your plate onto his without a single thought

Literally no thoughts

He doesn’t think

He relies on his instincts

And his instincts when it comes to you are 99.9% accurate so it’s easy for him to get a read on you and understand what you need

Doesn’t mean he won’t stop being a clown about it though

Would actually dress up as one to make you laugh though

Would do a lot of crazy shit actually to get a slight giggle out of you

If he sees you happy and laughing when around him then that means he’s doing a good job at this whole dating thing right?

Will probably do a pt. 2 or write whole little story thingy idk

also I’m not dead y’all and classroom of the elite is coming soon I promise😭😭

[lesservillain]

best friend!eddie x reader

cw: SMUT, unprotected piv, pregnancy scare, one sided feelings, sort of sad at the end? an: the prequel to baby daddy!eddie but could be read as a stand alone if you wanted wc: 3.4k

A few years ago…

Music played on the stereo in Gareth’s garage, filling the house through the cracked door that connected to the house. The host himself was passed out on his living room couch, the rest of the boys laughing at him for falling asleep. The only ones left at the party were Jeff, Grant, Eddie and you, the few other guests who came to celebrate their graduations left not long ago.

You rolled your eyes as they placed Gareth’s hand in a bowl of water, a prank that one of them heard would make someone piss themselves in their sleep. Instead of taking part in their stupid prank, you chose to help out with cleaning up. Empty beer cans and other snack bags started filling up the trashcan as you made your way around the kitchen.

“What are you in here doing, sweetheart?”

You turn to see Eddie leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, watching you as you pick up more trash.

“Trying to be helpful,” you say, shoving as much trash into the can as you possibly can. Eddie laughs, pushing off from the frame to walk over to you. He grabs the bag from the can and proceeds to tie it. You smile up at him. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he says after a moment of looking at you. You get an overwhelming feeling of domesticity as you watch Eddie take the bag out the back door. You watch him through the window as he places the bag in the can. Lighting up a cigarette, he waves at you from the cans, and you feel your cheeks grow hot from being caught staring. 

Eddie was your best friend. Has been since he moved to Hawkins back in 4th grade. The two of you met after you spent the summer in the trailer park where his uncle and your grandma both live in. You rolled with most of the kids there, but Eddie was like a new toy to you. 

He was hard to get out of his shell at first, mostly due to traumas you weren’t aware of at the time. In retrospect, you really pushed him hard, ever persistent in your daily trips to Wayne’s trailer to get him to come out. But when he finally did agree to play with you, the two of you became immediately inseparable. 

Everyone always joked about the two of you spending so much time together, laughing at the grossed out reactions the two of you would have at the mention of the two of you getting married one day. If your grandma was still alive, she would probably be distraught knowing that you had a massive crush on anyone other than Eddie.

After replacing the trash bag, you decide to join Eddie outside. The cool air feels amazing on your skin. The boys don’t have a lot of friends outside of each other, but when all of them start drinking and playing games they seem to generate a lot of heat in such a small space.

“Want one?” Eddie asks as you approach, smoke billowing from between his lips. You nod and he pulls out his pack. 

“Did you have fun?” You ask as he lights the cigarette for you, your hands brushing as he hands it over. The feeling of your skin touching felt like electricity through your hand.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, taking a drag. “I mean, I think it could have been just the two of us and I would have been happy. I’m just glad to finally not have to go back to that hell hole.”

“I’m happy for you, too,” you smile, taking a step closer to him. “Eddie, you honestly have no idea how proud I am of you. Like, I want to shout from the roof tops that Eddie fucking Munson graduated!”

Eddie giggles at your praise, swaying a bit where he stands from the amount of alcohol he’s consumed tonight. He stretches an arm out and you oblige, accepting his tight embrace. He smells like alcohol, weed, sweat, and notes of cheap cologne that he sprayed on earlier in the evening. It was a bit intoxicating in your current state. 

Drinking either made you super friendy or super horny, and tonight you were heading towards the latter. 

You would never admit it, but you’d been watching Eddie all night. There was an air about him tonight. Call it confidence or call it something else, but it was something you’d never seen in him before. It’s like he’s gotten a new found sense of life knowing that he was finally free to do whatever he wants in life. There was nothing left to tie him down and he knew it.

And, maybe unfortunately, it was doing something for you. You’d never really thought about Eddie like that before, your long time crush on Steve clouding your mind when it came to paying attention to anyone else. But something has…changed.

And after a shot or two that you took with a few of his friends from theater class (those kids are wild), everything he did just seemed to be doing something for you. You almost fell over when he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his stomach that you’ve seen a thousand times on on display looking extra lean and just…

“Hey, are you okay?”

You instantly went from feeling good to being super aware of the way Eddie’s body was touching you. With the way he was holding you, his hand rested just above your chest, almost resting on your breast. The veins in is hand seemed more prominent, the rings on his fingers suiting his hands well.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. When he doesn’t say anything, you slowly turn to look at him. Which was a mistake, because the way he was staring at you took your breath away again. His big brown eyes stared into yours, lidded in a way that made you want to squirm.

“Eddie? Are you good?”

He doesn’t respond, only blinks. His gaze shifts, flickering back and forth between your lips and your eyes and you feel your stomach flip. 

This isn’t how best friends look at each other. Friends don't caress your cheek like he does. They don’t pull you in, making your fronts flush with each other. They don’t start to block out the light from the moon as they lean in. Their lips don’t meet yours, and you aren’t supposed to accept it, kissing them back.

But, before you know it, your kiss turns into kisses. Feverish and hungry, tongues dancing in sync like lovers do. You’re not lovers, but you feel that line blurring as your body is being pulled away. 

The two of you don’t disconnect until you suddenly stop. Eddie is the first to break off the kiss, reaching behind him to open the doors of his van where he pulls you in. You don’t protest, gladly jumping in and pushing him down so that he lays under you. You can tell by the look on his face he wasn’t expecting it. His eyes watch you as you pull the van doors closed.

Once they click together, everything happens quickly. Rushed touches and clothes flying in every direction, the two of you melt into each other.

Your perched in his lap, breasts are pressed into him with arms wrapped around his neck as you almost eat him alive. His hands rub down the expanse of your back until they land on your ass, palming you underneath your panties as you grind down against him.

Eddie is painfully hard under you. For the brief moment that you looked down at him, you were shocked at the size of the tent in his boxers. It was the one thing about him that you didn’t know anything about after all these years. It sent waves to your core that only made you feel things for him you’d never felt before.

In an attempt to speed things up, you let your hand trail down his chest, his stomach, and down past the hem of his boxers. Your brows shot up when you gripped him, his true size in your hand taking you by surprise.

“Mmmm, shit,” he moans under you, and your breath hitches. You watch him carefully as his face contorts in a way that you’ve never seen; a new side of Eddie that you feel privileged to witness.

And then his his hand is on your head, guiding your mouth up and down on his huge cock. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks with how far down your throat he tries to get you. But you do your best to take it like a champ. Especially with how he praises you.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” The words fall from his lips like flowing water. He lost the barrier to keep his thoughts to himself as soon as you took your bra off. “Please don’t stop.”

How could you possibly deny him? You can’t. You blow him better than you ever have before, until his thighs are clenching around your head. You were fully expecting him to blow his load in your mouth at this point and you would have let him. But he pops you off of him and holds you in his hands until he can catch his breath.

“Eddie, whats wrong?” You ask confused.

“I’m sorry,” he says with heavy breaths, “Didn’t want to waste this chance by cumming too quick.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at his words, insinuating that he wanted more than just a quick bj in the back of his van. You’d never thought you’d be doing this with him, but in your current state Eddie could tell you to kill someone you would without question.

“Okay,” you say with a nod, shifting your body until you were sitting in front of him. There was an awkward pause as the two of you stared at each other. You waited for him to make the next move but it seemed like it was never going to come. You’re sure Eddie is just as wrapped up in the moment as you, so you decide to go ahead and make the next move.

You crawl towards him until you’re sitting just above his lap. His eyes never leave your face, round and in awe of you as you move closer to him. You place a hand on either shoulder and you can feel how tense he is.

“Eddie, are you sure you want to do this?”

He’s frozen for a moment. Until his head begins to nod so quickly he could have given himself brain damage from the speed.

“Yes, yeah, I am. As long as you are…”

“I do, too,” you assure him. You look around the messy interior of his van for a moment before looking back at him. “Do you, um, have a…”

Eddie’s eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of his head as his face shifts into that of a state of panic. He starts to babble, words incoherent until he’s able to form a sentence.

“I-I-I don’t, um, I don’t have any…condoms.” The last word comes out in a hushed tone, almost ashamed as he admits it.

“Well, shit,” you say, finger coming to tap against your lip as you think. You’d never done it without a condom before, and even if you trusted Eddie, the last thing you two needed was an accident to happen.

“I’m sorry, I just--I’ve never done this, so--”

“Wait, what?” You say, stopping him in his tracks. He looks up at you like he said something wrong and it kills you. “Eddie,” you try and keep your tone as neutral as possible, “Are you…still a virgin?”

Eddie swallows, eyes now looking anywhere but you. Eddie’s never brought up anything about his sex life before to you, but you’d not really been all that open with him for that very reason. But you’d always assumed it was just a mutual respect thing, not that he didn’t have anything to share to begin with.

“It’s okay if you are,” you add, “It doesn’t bother me.”

Eddie looks at you again, though now with cheeks pinker than ever. He sighs, nodding once again, but with less vigor than before.

“Yeah, I’m a…virgin.”

Something inside you flips when you hear him admit it out loud. A giddy feeling inside takes over your thoughts as you come to a realization.

“Do you want me to help you change that?”

You barely recognized your own words, and the look that Eddie gave you told you that it came out just as suggestive as you intended. 

“Are you sure?” He stutters out, “I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to--”

“Shhh,” you shush him, placing a finger on his lips. “I’m doing this because I want to,” you say, lowering yourself so that the tip of his cock sits right at your entrance. You feel it jump in your hand at the contact. “You just have to say the word.”

Eddie’s eyes are locked where the two of you touch, his breath hitching as your juices coat his thick head. 

“Please,” he says, still looking between you. “I want to.”

You smile, a heat taking over your body as you realize what you’re about to do. But, you try not to let the idea of taking your best friends virginity take you out of the moment. You had to be in charge here and you didn’t want to let Eddie down.

Without a second thought, you start to lower yourself down on him. He’s bigger than you’ve been with before, so you take your time to work him in since you didn’t get any prep before hand.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, stopping you just as you get the tip all the way in. 

“What, what’s wrong?” You ask, starting to pull off of him. But his hands land on your hips to keep you in place.

“I want to do this. Like, you have no idea how much I want this right now. But, what about the no condom thing?”

You blink, thinking quickly over your options. The two of you are too intoxicated to go and get a condom right now. Plus, he’s already technically inside of you, so what good would one do that pulling out wouldn’t, right?

“Just…when you’re about to cum, just tell me and I’ll get off. Okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

Eddie mimics zipping his lips, and you roll your eyes at his playfulness.

“Can I continue now?” He nods again, giving you a thumbs up.

You try to get yourself back into the moment by slowly moving up and down, focusing on the feeling of Eddie’s cock inching deeper and deeper inside of you with each movement. Eddie’s head rolls back and you feel his hips bucking subconsciously beneath you. 

You decide not to torment him anymore and fully seat yourself in his lap. He bucks forward, face colliding with your chest as he’s taken aback by the feeling. 

“You okay?” You say with a giggle, though you’re barely holding back a moan yourself at feeling his cock fully stretching you. 

“Mhmm,” he whimpers into your skin, the grip he has on your hips almost bruising. 

“Do you want me to give you a minute?”

He shakes his head. “No, please move.”

And so you do. You take your time at first, really to give yourself ample opportunity to prepare to take him at a faster pace. But with the sounds he’s making, you feel yourself getting wet enough that you can bounce yourself on his cock with more ease. He keeps his face burried in your chest as you move up and down on his cock.

Eddie’s hands loosen on your hips and move themselves up your sides until they land on your breasts. He holds them around his face, fondling and groping as they rub against his face. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, licking and teething at it softly, sending little shocks of pleasure through you.

All of the feelings were honestly a lot for you to take in. And the more you looked down at him the quicker your own orgasm was approaching. You let yourself forget about his pleasure for a moment as you chased your own high, fully seating yourself to let the thick patch of hair at his base rub deliciously against your clit. You rolled your hips against him and he whined into your chest.

Suddenly, your vision goes white as you feel yourself cumming on his cock. Your body starts to shake, and you’re pussy spasms around him, coating him in your cum.

“Is that you cumming? Holy fuck, I--”

There wasn’t much time to react as your pussy was suddenly being filled. Eddie’s body tenses under you as you’re only just now coming down from your own high. But when you finally realize what was happening, you jump up as fast as you can, head hitting the top of his van.

“Fuck! Damn it, Eddie!”

He snaps out of his post orgasm bliss and jumps up after you, also hitting his head on the ceiling in the process. 

“Shit! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Eddie’s never been more panicked in his life than right now. Not even when he almost got caught by Hopper selling out in the woods. “I can fix this! I-I-I-”

“Eddie, how the hell are you going to fix this? Fuck me, this is my fault. I should have just said no when you said you didn’t have a condom.”

“No, please don’t be mad,” he says, grabbing your arms and giving you the most pathetic, sad look you’ve ever seen. 

“Do you have any money?” You ask him after a moment.

“I probably have like $3 to my name right now. Why?”

“Shit, I just paid my car payment so I only have like $10. I was going to say we could run to the pharmacy and get a Plan B.”

“What’s that?” 

“It’s like a pill that’s supposed to keep you from getting pregnant. But they’re, like, $20 or something crazy like that.”

“I’ll go to Rick. I can probably get some supply from him and sell it in a couple days.”

“I think it only works like the next day. It’s called the morning after pill for a reason I think.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” 

“What about Wayne?”

“I can’t go to Wayne.”

“Why not?”

“Why don’t you ask your mom?”

You sigh. He had a point. There was no way you could ask your mom without her asking why. And money was already tight so there wasn’t a good excuse to make up for you needing $20 out of the blue. 

“You know what, it’s fine.” You say, convincing yourself that it was. “My period should be coming soon, so I think we’re okay.”

“How soon is soon?” Eddie asks, clearly not convinced.

“Like, in a week and a half? Usually around the beginning of the month.”

Eddie breaths in, then out, head slumping. He drops to his knees before you and you can see his body start to shake.

“Eddie?” You drop down to his level and get a look at his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and it sent an arrow through your heart to see him so upset.

“I’m so sorry.” His words come out watery, his head starting to shake. “I didn’t want this to be how it happened.”

His words hit you like a truck. Of course he didn’t want his first time to be like this. He probably wanted it to be with someone he loved, not with his friend, and definitely not with the possibility of getting you pregnant. 

Guilt washed over you. You should have been the better person and not given in to your sick desire to share something like this with him. 

But it’s too late.

You can only hope that this doesn’t ruin your friendship forever.

than you for reading!