#Scrambled Ed

[eddwardmarianvincent]

[zombiegangster]

Scrambled Ed

Episode 21B: Scrambled Ed

Welcome to ‘Scambled Ed’!  This is another of my favorite episodes, and one of the first to focus on Edd.  It even has a good deal of kid-moments.  However, it’s heavily gag-driven, so I can’t imagine there’s as much to analyze as the last few episodes!

Titled in reference to ‘Scrambled Eggs’, because that’s breakfast and the episode’s about waking up Edd.  The title card also makes a connection to the premise by showing a farmhand waking up and throwing a shoe at the cliche sunrise rooster.

Keep reading

[arsenicflame]

an alternate (significantly sillier) way to get Izzy onto the revenge in S1E2:

[camera shot of The Revenge & Queen Anne conveniently anchored or beached on opposite sides of the island]

Izzy: alright, crew, you have TWO HOURS to mess around while we trade with the islanders. I expect you all to be on your best behaviour, and back on time, or we LEAVE YOU BEHIND, YOU UNDERSTAND?

[the crew chorus in agreement like a bunch of school kids]

Izzy: Fang, I expect you to count them back. It'll be bad for moral if we actually leave anyone behind

[play the episode, buying the hostages, dealing with Stede, etc]

Fang: OK, that's cargo all loaded and the last of the crew back aboard, we are good to sail!

[cue a very slow, drawn out scene of them raising the anchor]

Fang: you know, I can't help but feel we've forgotten something

Ivan: You know you worry about these things, I'm sure it's fine. Can't be anything important anyway, Izzy would have yelled at you about it by now.

Fang: ...

Ivan: ...

Both: IZZY

Izzy, who had gone back with the extra gold for the unexpected hostages, now watching his ship sail away: YOU TWATS!!!! USELESS FUCKING FUCKERS!!!!!! YOU FORGOT ME!!

[stizzysupremacy]

Seeing bad faith takes about the morning after scene, how it’s sooooo creepy and intrusive for Izzy to come in and comment and like…

Firstly, it has always been Izzy’s job to march into the captain’s cabin unannounced to make his report. We see him do it five mins after Stede wakes up and meets Ed for the first time.

Secondly, the people saying this clearly have no IRL friends because it is actually super fucking common for your friends to tease you and give you shit (affectionate) after you finally manage to bang your crush. There’s one hookup from 15 years ago my friends still won’t let me live down. Not maliciously; simply because it is fun and funny for them to make me blush about it.

Thirdly, I am stomping on you like cockroaches. Stop dragging all this extra toxic negativity into my fun queer pirate romcom. let them make sex jokes.

[endondodon]

Sobbjng over the fact I didn’t get Spring Chaos Edmond

[xitty]

IT'S UNLOCKED!!!! ❤️

[non-bean-ary]

Going particularly feral for this look here:

The earrings and necklace, the ponytail, taikas chest tat: it's giving so much gender

[eddwardmarianvincent]

Why does he look like he blazed one up

[anotherday-anothergay]

Everything reminds me of them 😭

[shark-emojii]

[acidblum]

strapping down cowboy!sevika in all of her glory?? I’M IN!!! MDNI 18+ strap-on use (s!receiving)..

she sure as hell had a big awful grin on her face every time a stranger complimented her larger than life physique and gains, tipping her cowboy hat when the old ladies ooh-aah-ed at how strong she is, and oh how lucky you are to be hers. needless to say they don’t need to know she wasn’t the one holding the reigns behind closed doors..

the musky smell of your mixed sweat filled the room, her controlled grunts kept on getting louder by the second as the slam of your thighs rendered her down to nothing but scrambling hands trying to hold onto your waist.

“ha-h yes” poor big ol' sevi had it coming as your mind filled with the sight of the women gloating over her and hovering and more so touching all over her with you by her side!! "say it" you spit against clenched teeth, looking down at the way her soaked pussy glistened, making you nearly drool and cause a mess.

" s-say wh-ah-t??" oh how she's so clueless, brows knitting so deep in question as she tries to not lose her mind. your strap hitting her deep—the same one she hand picked specifically for you to try on her, a girthy one at that.

hand slithering into her hair, bringing your face closer to hers, engulfing her heavy breaths and moans as you kiss her open mouth, eyes never leaving hers as she looks at your lips in pure hunger. a breathy whisper landing against her lips as she chases yours. "you're mine sevi say. it."

“ f-fuck ‘m yours, ‘is all for you” she groans as your nails dig into the flesh of her waist. “yeah that’s right vika..you’re all mine baby”

thrusts never ceasing, you bring your forefingers to her swollen enlarged and creamed clit, pinching and jerking her nub with enough force to have your big wife tumbling over as she mewls “f-fackk a-ngh.” hands groveling to hold something..anything.

“you gonna cum f’ me vika?? hm? gonna ruin the bed for us??”

“y-yes…pleaseee” her thighs vibrated as you felt her pussy grip the strap so tight it could’ve snapped off. “go on then” you command as your hand lands a soft slap straight onto her clit, earning a whine from sevika “ah-h.” her eyes rolling back and you swear you can feel the way her pussy spasms around the strap. “good job sevi” hand coming up to stroke up and down her thigh.

and there it was, a sight for sore eye. a creamy rim painting the base of your green strap that’s still so deep inside your lover as she lies there trying to catch her breath with a sweaty temple and shaky legs, so out of it and still looking at you with nothing but admiration as you in return admire the state you’ve put the strongest woman in town in. it is quite the flex...

© acidblum

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Mom of the ER

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Robby x F!Reader

Summary: You and Robby are labelled as the Parents of the ER. You do nothing but fuel those allegations.

The Pitt Masterlist

Due to a large group of college students getting into an accident, Robby gives you a quick call that he has to extend his shift. You hear the exhaustion and defeat in his tone, so you immediately know what you have to do. You make a large pot of strong coffee and pour it into a large thermos. You also go by a donut shop and buy two dozen boxes for him and his team.

When Ahmad sees you, he lets you in, "It's crazy in there so be quick," he says while grabbing a donut for himself.

"Will do! Thanks, Ahmad!"

"Yeah, and thanks for the donut!"

You walk further into the ED, getting closer and closer to the central hub of it all. You see doctors and nurses scrambling left and right.

"Woah," is all you can say amidst the chaos.

Robby spots you and quickly excuses himself from a speaking with Perlah, "Something happen?"

You shake your head, "No, um, I brought you coffee from home and some donuts for you and the team. Looks like you're going to have a long night."

His eyes soften, "Thanks. I know everyone will appreciate a treat after all this chaos," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You can already see how exhausted he is. You reach out and pat his cheek, "I'll put it in the breakroom," you tell him.

He nods, "Thank you. I'm sorry I can't-"

"DOCTOR ROBBY!" Dr. Collins calls for him. The call of his name has him sigh and hang his head low.

You shake your head, "Baby, it's fine. Really. Go save lives," you quickly peck his lips, "I love you."

"I love you. I'll let you know when I'm coming home," he says as he starts heading to a room where Samira is shouting for him.

"Sounds good!" you give him a wave and head to the break room. You set his thermos by the coffee maker. You place the donuts on the small table, writing on the lids: 'For your late night cravings. Keep up the good work, everyone!' paired with your name.

When you step out of the break room, you nearly run into Frank, "Woah! Robby know you're here?"

"Yeah, just saw him briefly. Brought some donuts for you guys," you gesture to the break room.

Frank looks over your shoulder, "Godsend! So happy Robby married you! Truly, the mom of the ER." he says before heading down the hall.

You scoff, "Thanks?" your eyes follow him confusedly. You shrug and head back towards the entrance.

You salute Ahmad, "Have a good night, Ahamad!"

"Stay safe out there, Y/N!" he says with a wave.

"I'll try!"

Later that night, you receive a text from Samira, it's a selfie of her with Collins, some of the residents, Frank, and Princess. They're all posing with donuts in their mouths. The text along with it says, "THANK YOU FOR THE FUEL, ER MOM!"

You text back: anytime! <3

Ever since you and Robby got married, his colleagues and residents have been jokingly calling two to the Parents of the ER. Robby was the stern, tough love parent while you were the very loving and caring one. More often than not, you'd swing by with food for him and his department. You kept up with everyone's lives, would hang out with them even if Robby couldn't make it. It was nice though, feeling like his department was your family.

Your phone then rings in your hand and you smile seeing Robby's name, "Hey."

"Well, that was a shitshow, but your donuts and coffee definitely make up for it."

"Yeah? Any casualties?"

Robby lets out a long, tired, deep breath, "Three. It's...been a long day."

"But you're coming home soon, right?"

He sighs again, "Yeah, in a bit." he pauses, "Got some paperwork to fill out but I'll be home. Thirty minutes, hopefully unless Gloria comes to chew my ass again."

"I'll leave you to it then."

"Wait."

"Hm?"

"You know I love and appreciate you, right?"

You snort, "I know, Michael."

"No, sweetheart, I'm serious. You've taken all of this in stride even before we got married. And you treat my team so well. I just want you to know that it doesn't go unnoticed by me or anyone here. Thank you for not only taking care of me but everyone who works in my department."

You shrug even though he can't see you, "You guys take care of everyone else, someone has to take care of you guys, right?"

Robby chuckles, "Spoken like such a mom."

"God, I thought you hated when they called us that!"

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k 

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt. 

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat. 

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too. 

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well. 

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause. 

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun. 

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years. 

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled. 

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!” 

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love). 

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.” 

“It’s raining.” 

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?” 

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.” 

“How’d you figure?” 

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface. 

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall. 

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.” 

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?” 

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.” 

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.” 

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash. 

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?” 

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.” 

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole. 

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it. 

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.” 

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?” 

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries. 

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it? 

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself. 

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says. 

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek. 

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume. 

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom. 

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full. 

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.” 

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.” 

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you. 

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies. 

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn. 

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!” 

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.” 

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.” 

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease. 

“Take the towels, loser.” 

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin. 

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life. 

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you. 

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain. 

Eddie just stares at you. 

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry. 

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic. 

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh. 

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.” 

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?” 

“What?” 

“Eddie, are you okay?” 

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“I don’t have any underwear.” 

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry. 

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose. 

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says. 

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.” 

“I’m twenty one.” 

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.” 

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks. 

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes. 

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?” 

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.” 

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Get lost,” Eddie says. 

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.” 

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved. 

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed. 

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.” 

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?” 

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser. 

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.” 

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on. 

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet. 

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.” 

“It felt important at the time.” 

“Yeah?” 

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him. 

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.” 

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.” 

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment. 

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.” 

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head. 

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks. 

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable. 

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.” 

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead. 

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.” 

“What am I doing?” 

“You’re rubbing my arm.” 

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach. 

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest. 

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end. 

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. 

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back. 

Right. Eddie should remember. 

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days. 

“Too much?” 

“The right amount,” he says firmly. 

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this. 

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before. 

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back. 

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.” 

“For me or you?” 

“For me, duh.” 

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.” 

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.” 

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it. 

“We’re very close together,” you whisper. 

“Super close,” he whispers back. 

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do. 

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?” 

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.” 

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?” 

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?” 

What does Eddie think about it? 

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer. 

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?” 

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly. 

He can’t not give it to you. 

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead. 

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue. 

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur. 

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse. 

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly. 

“You wanted to?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.” 

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy. 

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs. 

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly. 

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency. 

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask. 

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring. 

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door. 

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him. 

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says. 

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?” 

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.” 

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?” 

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.” 

Eddie grins back. 

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring. 

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed. 

“Eyes on the road.” 

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather. 

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.” 

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding. 

He sighs. “No, it does not.” 

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.” 

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.” 

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less. 

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.” 

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw. 

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped. 

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say. 

“Then open it.” 

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?” 

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it. 

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease. 

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier. 

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working. 

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” 

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully. 

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.” 

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended. 

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.” 

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.” 

“Now who’s not funny?” 

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

[roanniom]

Let Them Know

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

18+ Only, smut, PIV, consensual spanking

“The fucking window is open, Eddie,” you whisper urgently, cutting off your own previously loud moan.

Eddie’s got you on your back, legs up and over his shoulders as he thrusts into you. The hand supporting himself has one of your flailing arms trapped against the couch cushion while his other hand has found its way between your bodies, playing mercilessly with your clit.

“Yeah? So?” he grunts.

“So - fuck me!” you gasp when he reverses the swirl of his finger just as he ads a teasing swirl to the motion of his hips.

“That’s what I’m doing, princess,” Eddie responds roguishly. He leans down to give you the most lascivious open mouthed kiss. His entire body weight rests on your arm in the process, making it start to go numb, but you don’t care. You surrender to the kiss, happy to receive his plundering tongue. When he pulls away you whine.

“Turn around.”

It’s gruff. A command. You scramble to your shaky knees and before you can even finish a full rotation you feel Eddie grabbing your hips and pressing his thick cock back inside you. Deep.

“Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah? That feel good, baby?”

You melt, like you always do when he calls you baby, dropping to your forearms.

“Yes, it feels so fucking—.”

You bite your own lip when you hear voices through the open window. People passing by, thus far oblivious to the debauchery occurring on your couch.

Slap.

“Eddie!” you gasp as the feeling of the spank radiates on your ass, although your back arches and you press back into him like you always do.

“That’s right. Let them know who’s fucking you so good.”

“Mmmm,” you whimper quietly, shifting around to try and entice him to spank you again.

Suddenly his whole body is over yours, his mouth by your ear.

“I know what you want, baby. You’re a bad girl who wants to be spanked real good. But you’re not gonna get it if you don’t let me hear you.”

“Eddie…” you whisper. He reaches back and taps your ass, but so lightly you squirm at the lack of pressure.

“Louder.”

“Eddie.” You say it more forcefully this time, so he taps you again. This time with a liiiiittle more force but definitely not enough.

“You can do better for me, baby. Do it.”

This whole time he’s had you pressed down into the couch, cock buried deep inside you. You can feel it pulse greedily with enjoyment over your squirms and whimpers. It’s all too stimulating. Too hot. Too delicious.

You need more.

“Eddie! Fuck me! Please!”

SLAP.

The spank that lands on your ass is resounding, and definitely recognizable when paired with your breathy cries. You hear laughter outside the open window but you’re beyond caring at this point, because Eddie’s found a rhythm.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan out. Eddie groans.

“That’s it. There’s my girl.”

He props himself up with one hand planted next to your face and the other finding your clit again. The pressure inside you intensifies immediately. Your eyes shoot open wide.

“Oh fuck. I’m…I’m gonna…”

“What’s that? You’re gonna cum already?” The glee in his voice in palpable. His finger swirls faster and faster and he grunts when he feels how close you are. “I can feel you getting tighter. You wanna cum for me, baby?”

“I wanna cum for you, Eddie. Wanna - fuck! Sooodeep. Wanna cum for you so bad.” You babble, dropping face down, ass up, hardly able to receive the pleasure he’s thrusting into you.

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans. He pulls his hand away from your clit long enough to spank you again, just to hear you squeal and feel you spasm around him. “Feel me getting harder? You’re gonna make me cum too.”

“Please!” you whine, practically incoherent.

“You want that? Want me to cum deep inside you, baby?” You can hear how gone he is in the amount of gravel in his voice. You’ve never been happier to be on the pill as you nod fervently against the sheets.

“Wanna feel you, Eds. Wanna cum with you.”

You’re right on the edge. And so, it turns out, is he.

Eddie lets out a shuddering gasp as he pumps into you, hot sticky cum flowing just as you spasm around him in a mind numbing orgasm.

Every muscle in your body seizes up as the pleasure ripples through you. Then everything relaxes. You fall limp and boneless, pressed deeper into the cushions by Eddie’s similarly limp body.

An aftershock reverberates through you and Eddie chuckles in your ear.

“I love these little shakes afterwards that you can’t help.”

“I can’t help it,” you insist, doing your best to turn in his arms to face him. “You fucked me good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, dominance fading into sweet bashfulness in the afterglow of your shared pleasure. You love the duality. You love him.

“Yeah.”

You crane your neck to kiss him. His hand cups the side of your jaw almost reverently.

And then—

“Close the fucking window next time, freaks!” Steve Harrington calls out loud and clear, Robin laughing hysterically in the background.

~*~

Thank you for reading! I think this is the first thing I’ve written in over six months?? Wild.

[eddwardmarianvincent]

[roanofarcc]

A SHARED VOID

pairing: james ‘bucky’ barnes x fem!reader (requested)

summary: when the Void is unleashed in NYC, you and Bucky fall into a nightmare you had shared together. 

warnings: reader was captured and held by Hydra. mentions of past abuse, Hydra, lots of angst with some soft!bucky sprinkled in!

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

Momentary darkness bled into a low light that immediately filled you with dread. Before you even knew where you were, your body felt it, a cold hand of fear that squeezed your throat. Blinking, you focused your eyes and looked around. Concrete floors, walls, and ceiling boxed you in. It was so little to go off of, but you knew exactly where you were. 

“No, no, no,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet. You hadn’t entered the darkness that encased the streets of New York City alone, but no one else was with you now. Your limbs felt impossibly heavy as you dragged yourself across the room of a little cell you had called home for far too long. The old memories of hopelessness arrived like harsh rain inside your head, flooding your mind with memories you had done so much to replace with better ones. 

For years, you worked through the knots Hydra had tangled in your mind, but standing back inside the cell, you felt them start to reappear. 

The clinking of chains startled you. Turning around, you nearly fell to your knees. You were looking at yourself, the version of yourself so beaten down by years spent locked up in the Hydra facility. You were nothing but skin and bones, knotted hair, and adoring blood-stained clothing. You looked impossibly small, curled into yourself like you thought you could make yourself disappear from sight. 

The sight brought out a sob as you staggered toward yourself, so hopeless and void of light. You almost forgot what that felt like, but it all came rushing back to you in that moment as you kneeled on the cold ground in front of that version of yourself. She looked back at you, tired eyes seemingly looking through you rather than directly at you. She brought a hand up, chains rattling with each movement. 

You had been weak, sick, but forced to carry out your medical duties in fear of punishment for either you or the Winter Soldier. But as that version of you lifted her hand, she locked her bony fingers around your throat. You choked as she squeezed, red-rimmed eyes boring holes into your skull. You tried to fight yourself off, but she was strong, desperate to squeeze the life and light that had returned right out of you. 

Crashing backwards against the floor, you wheezed and grasped her shoulders, trying to shove her off. 

A voice sounded from somewhere off in the distance, familiar even through slight distortion. It called your name, not the series of code names or dehumanizing nicknames the Hydra agents spit at you, but your name. 

Little spot danced in your vision as you lulled your head to the side, peering through the one wall of the cell that was thick metal bars, allowing you to see out into the hall and the cell that sat directly across from you. 

Bucky, two versions of him, were locked in a similar battle in the other cell. Something about seeing him, seeing your Bucky, gave you a moment of clarity in the thunderstorm of your memories. You knee-ed the other version of yourself who hovered over you, sending her rolling off of you, her hands retreating from their place around your neck. Your lungs burned as you struggled to inhale deep breaths. 

Dizzy-headed from the lack of oxygen, you half-crawled across the ground until you could get your feet under you. You fell against the bars, using them to keep you upright as you choked out Bucky’s name. 

He faced off against the Winter Soldier in his cell, struggling against dead eyes and deeply inflicted pain that was too fresh for that version of Bucky. It all came back to you, the pain of not only what you endured, but of what he endured. You hadn’t been there for all of it, but you witnessed enough to know the kind of horrors Bucky had been running from for a long time. You heard his moans of pain and stifled agony for years. 

Though it was against your will, you had even contributed to some of it, stitching him up after missions with nothing to numb the pain of the needle threading in and out of his skin. Cleaning him up after punishments when little things went wrong during a mission, as they never settled for anything less than perfection. You had looked into his eyes, drained of humanity, silently wishing you had been strong enough to push back. 

You had a few times, each one resulting in acts of violence that left permanent scars on your body. The healed stripes and set bones ached as you pressed your face against the bars, watching as the Winter Soldier threw Bucky across the cell. 

“Bucky!” you half yelled and half cried. Using all of your strength, you shook the bars. Unlike the real cell you had been, the one in the strange dream/memory gave way as you threw your body against it. You stumbled out into the hall, only taking a beat before you approached Bucky’s cell. The key was in the lock on the outside. Too easy; a trap, probably. But you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was Bucky, facing the person he had been forced to become against his will. 

You stepped into the cell, but it closed behind you. Both the Winter Soldier and Bucky looked at you upon entering. 

Bucky took a step toward you before the Winter Soldier attacked him again, pinning him against the wall. You called out his name, a weight pressing down on your chest as panic threatened to swallow you. You had already escaped this nightmare, once in reality and a million times over in your head. But something about this time was different. In your dreams, no matter how real it felt, there was a fuzziness to the nightmare that reminded you, once awake, Hydra can’t hurt you anymore. 

There was no fuzziness or dream-like quality to your situation. It was as if someone had somehow placed you right back there. 

Before you registered what you were doing, your hands were wrapped around the flesh bicep of the Winter Soldier, as if your strength was comparable to a hell-bent super soldier. Yet, you attempted to get Bucky loose from his grip, enough to properly fight back against himself. 

The Winter Soldier jabbed his metal arm back, hitting you square in the chest and sending you skidding across the room. You squeezed your eyes closed, grasping for your bearings to come back. 

The soft sound of your name in Bucky’s voice forced your eyes back open, not but a minute later. A hand gripped your shoulder, shaking you lightly as the scene fell back into focus. 

“Hey,” Bucky breathed out. “You okay?” 

You didn’t answer as your eyes fell onto the Winter Soldier on his knees on the other side of the cell. His body was hunched forward and radiating an indescribable sadness you had tried to bear witness to for years. 

Across the hall, the other version of yourself was in a similar position, curled into herself on the hard ground with a similar hopelessness. It hurt to see yourself like that. The urge to hold yourself, remind her that freedom and a life worthy of living awaited her, tugged at your bones, but your body sat on the ground like your veins had been filled with lead. 

“What is this place?” you asked, even though you were fairly certain he knew as much as you did. 

“Nowhere good,” he said, hanging his head with a shake. “But there’s got to be a way out, and a way to the others.” 

He was eager to leave, rightfully so, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. “Can’t you feel that?” you asked, voice just above a whisper. 

“Feel what?” he asked, hesitantly as he tossed glances between the ghosts of your past selves. 

“I almost forgot what it felt like to be here,” you said, eyes stinging. “But it’s…it’s right here.” You placed your hand in the middle of your chest, where it felt like it was a moment away from cracking in half from the weight of your memories. 

Bucky frowned as he rested his flesh hand over yours, a knowing look upon his face. “I know,” he whispered, voice vulnerable, something he rarely was, but with you, he found himself more inclined to be. Whether it was trust or simply because of your shared experiences, you weren’t sure. “But it’s not real, not anymore.” 

Your chin trembled as you spared another glance at yourself in the cell. “It feels real.” 

Bucky did the same, gazing at himself. “It does,” he said with a sigh. “But we got out, and we’ll do it again.” 

You looked at him, really looked at him. He was tired and a little worn from dealing with the team of misfits he had rounded up in the desert, but he was more alive than you had ever seen him, filled with purpose. 

Even in the darkest corner of your shared nightmare, you cracked a small smile, eyes glossy. “Since when are you the optimist?” 

He mirrored your expression, brushing a few sweaty fly-aways back from your forehead. “It’s something new I’m trying.” 

Little by little, the crushing weight of your past started to shake loose, looking at Bucky. You squeezed his hand and used your free one to wipe a couple of stray tears that had fallen. “Are you okay?” you asked him, even though the hunch in his shoulders gave him away. 

“You’re here,” he said. “So, yeah. I’m okay.” 

He helped you to your feet, but when standing, your hands didn’t break apart. You each sucked in a breath of a stale air and clung to feelings of your fingers intertwined to keep you grounded. Breaking through the nightmare of your past, you two embarked on your mission to find the others and save New York City, an awfully drastic turn of events in your lives that had long been intertwined.