jenniquinn

[jenniquinn]

eddie finds you with a migraine and you're stubborn

eddie munson x fem!reader

cw: established relationship, a mix of angst and fluff (you just aren’t feeling well), migraines and talk of past medical experiences, there’s like a hint of a dom/sub relationship but only for a moment I swear

author's note: this is the first fic I've ever posted and it's for the migraine girlies. I have another migraine-related fic idea that I've been thinking about writing so we''ll see what happens. this fic a culmination of my personal experiences with migraines and wishing Eddie could be here and force me to take my medication when I act like I don't need it.

Thank you @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire for reading it and pushing me every time I come up with an idea and yelling at me to write it, love you both <3

The sound of Eddie's boots echo through the hallways of his apartment complex as he finally arrives home from work, pulling his mittens off his hands and stuffing them in his jacket pockets. The weather this week has been horrible, the garage is freezing, and he nearly tripped over a creeper that someone left in the middle of the room. He’s pretty sure the new guy, Gunther, left it there when he went to grab some parts. Everyone in the room, including Wayne, saw the way his arms flailed and he almost fell on his face. The only thing that kept him going was knowing you would be there at home waiting for him at the end of the day. All he wanted to do right now was curl up with you on the couch under some blankets and watch some gory horror movies all night. You had mentioned trying out the new Chinese place down the road, maybe you guys could just have it delivered so neither of you need to leave the comforts of your warm home. He would have been home sooner but you needed a few things for a recipe you wanted to try soon and he offered to pick them up after work.

Eddie finally reaches the door to the apartment and fumbles with the keys, his hands still freezing despite the warm mittens he wore outside. He curses under his breath, eventually grabbing the right key amongst all the identical ones hanging on his keyring. Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Eddie finally unlocks the door and steps inside to find the apartment dark and chilly. The streetlights illuminate part of the living room through the half open blinds. A young chocolate lab runs over to greet Eddie, his nails scraping the floors as he skids across, excitedly jumping up to greet his human after being gone all day. Eddie bends down to give him some scratches and pat his pack. 

“Hey Yogi, did you keep the place safe today? You really are the best dog, aren’t you?” After about 30 seconds of roughhousing with the pup, he stands back up to flick on a light. He goes over to your small kitchen and sets down the small bag of groceries. Eddie takes his time putting everything away, humming to himself as he shelves the chicken stock and adobo. Once all the items are put away, Eddie looks around and takes in the state of the apartment.

The faint scent of a lavender candle wafting through the area and your water bottle is left on the coffee table. His jacket is hung up in the small coat closet and he unties his boots, placing them in front of one of the heat ducts and swearing he’ll put them on the shoe rack once they’re fully dry. There’s no sign of you whatsoever apart from your bottle and the blanket you usually use haphazardly draped across the edge of the couch.

The place is oddly silent for this time of day. Normally if you were home you’d have some sort of music playing, usually a playlist split between the two of you with your preferred music in it. Either that or you would have some tv show on for background noise. The space heater wasn’t on and it didn’t feel like it had been on for some time now. All the heat coming from the heat ducts was leaving through the old windows so those heaters were necessary to prevent the apartment from feeling like a walk-in freezer every winter. Eddie knew you had to be home - your bag was hanging next to your coat and you wouldn’t go anywhere without at least notifying him. He turns around back to Yogi, happily wagging his tail and looking up at him, and whispers, “Hey, where’s mom? Go find mom for me.” He motions for Yogi to go ahead and he happily obliges, trotting towards the closed bedroom door.

It’s not fully shut, open only a crack so Yogi could come inside if he so chooses. The dog sticks his nose inside to open it more and pushes through it. Eddie silently follows behind him. The room is pitch black thanks to the blackout curtains on the window, a gift from your parents when you and Eddie finally found an apartment together. Eddie then realizes what’s going on.

You had struggled with migraines for a majority of your life with them getting progressively worse and more frequent in the last three years. You’re on a few different medications now to make it more manageable but you still have your bad days, and today is looking like one of them. Frankly, he should have known this was going to happen. Bad weather was always a trigger for you and you had commented on the barometer this morning as you both were getting ready for the day. He was stupid to just brush that off as small talk while you both were still half asleep. You knew a migraine was coming. 

Eddie sees you curled up on his side of the bed with a sleep mask over your eyes. You’re grimacing under it in the fetal position and what sounds to be whimpering. Before Eddie goes inside, he tiptoes over to the light switch he just flipped and turns the lights off, the streetlights being the only thing illuminating once more. He sees some movement out of the corner of his eye coming from the bedroom and tiptoes back over to your room. Yogi is taking a step back before jumping up onto the bed, taking his usual spot curled up behind your knees with his head resting on your leg. He even lets out a little sigh when he settles into a comfortable position. Eddie steps inside the room and closes the door behind him. You pick your head up just a little bit and lift the sleep mask, wincing at the shooting pain from behind your eyes to the top of your head and call out a strained, “Ed?” 

Eddie slowly walks over to his side of the bed, trying to keep as quiet as possible so the floor would creak as little as possible. Once he’s close enough, he reaches down and cups your cheek, stroking it with his thumb and replying with a quiet, “Hey bub, how are you feeling?”

You mumble, “Not great, but you’re home now so I’m already feeling a little better.”

His hands are warm in stark contrast with the cold air circulating the apartment. You nuzzle his hand with your cheek which makes Eddie smile. Eddie moves down to kneel in front of you. You look tired, your eyes only half open with no life in them. He had seen you like this countless times before but it still hurt him every single time. Migraines sucked all the life out of you and Eddie wished he could do something to help you. There were countless times you had to cancel plans because you had a migraine attack and felt so much guilt over it, but Eddie didn’t care. He’d rather lay in bed with you until you feel better than go out and do something when you’re obviously in pain.

He remembered an attack you had last year, it left you crying and asking Eddie to take you to the hospital. You were hyperventilating and complaining that your arm had gone numb. No amount of medication was working and you couldn’t take the searing pain any longer. He had to help you out to the car, only wearing one of his worn band shirts that you stole from Eddie a long time ago and a pair of pajama shorts. You two didn’t even make it out of the apartment parking lot when the medication you took finally kicked in all at once. It was one of the scariest times of his life and he swore it would never happen again. 

Eddie nods, already going through his mental list of things that he needs to do to help you feel better, asking, “Have you taken anything today?” You shake your head no before a wave of pain hits you, causing you to shut your eyes again and bury your face in the pillow with a low pained groan. Eddie sits there, worried but also confused. Why didn’t you take anything? He got up and went over to your side of the bed to open your bedside drawer. It was split into two parts, one with the items you used before bed but the other half held all your medications, including every painkiller known to man. There was a giant unopened bottle of Excedrin, a bottle of Advil, and even the migraine medication prescribed by your doctor. You certainly weren’t low on anything. His attention is turned back to you when you roll onto your back, your migraine moving exclusively to the side of your head that was touching the pillow therefore it hurt too much to lay on your side. Unfortunately, you moving meant Yogi wasn’t able to lay on your legs anymore so he huffed and jumped off the bed.

“Sweetheart, why haven’t you taken anything?” Eddie gets onto the bed to sit down next to you, his hand going back to your face. Your eyes open once more, squinting at the minute level of light coming in from behind the curtains. You whine and answer tiredly,

“I don’t need them.”

Your boyfriend sits up, completely perplexed by your answer. Did he hear you correctly? He takes you in again, noting the noise cancelling earplugs in your ears and how much you keep clenching your jaw, something that he knows will only make the pain worse.

“Wait, what? Honey…,” Eddie stammers, wincing at the volume of his exclamation and watching you do the same. “Listen, I love you. I love you more than everything in the world, but frankly I think you look and sound like shit. You look like you’re in a lot of pain right now.” 

He watches you pout and smiles a little bit, happy to see even a small sign of life in his girlfriend again. “Wow Eddie, rude.”

“Why won’t you take the medication?” he repeats.

“I don’t need it. The pain isn’t that bad, I’ve felt worse.”

“Ok but you have the means to stop the pain NOW so why not do that? Don’t wait until you’re in agony to take something.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for a response. He gets up and leaves the room with your dog following behind like the loyal pet he is. You hear two sets of footsteps walk through the apartment and then the faint sound of running water. You assumed he just left to let you rest so you pulled the blankets up over your head to try and get to sleep. He returns again a minute later, Yogi in tow and your refilled water bottle in hand. There’s a shift in weight on the mattress, which you assume to be from Eddie, followed by Yogi  hopping onto the bed and just standing in the middle of it, as if he’s there just to watch you and make sure you do as you’re told.

Eddie slowly takes the blanket off your head and ignores your protests. He opens up the water bottle and places it on your bedside table. With his other hand he holds out a little pink pill, the medication prescribed by your doctor, as well as two Excedrin. “Cmon, take this,” he asks, moving his hand closer to you when you shake your head no, “Babe, you need to take this. Please.”

There’s no response from you this time. Eddie carefully puts the medication down on the table next to your water. He decides to make it so you can’t ignore him, pulling the covers up and climbs under them next to you. His eyes quickly adjust to the darkness and looks you right in the eye. 

“Listen, I don’t understand why you refuse to take your medication. You have a chronic condition that is easily fixed by a few little pills. Also…” Eddie leans in so your noses are practically touching, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “Think about the creator of that little pill. That nice, strong painkiller. Think about the scientists that made that little pill for you,” he says. You’re looking at him confused as he continues speaking, “Think about how sad he must be that you aren’t taking that pill. He worked so hard to make it for you and you’re being a stubborn little brat.”

You mutter, “I’m not a brat,” and try to roll over, but a hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you could fully turn away from him.

Eddie leans into your ear and you feel his curly fringe tickle your neck. His voice deepens in a way that has always made you squirm and goes, “You’re gonna be a good girl and take your medicine, okay?”

You don’t turn your back to him, but you also don’t fully turn to face him again. The only part of you that turns is your head to look back at him. He’s giving you a look that he only ever gave you in the bedroom, the look he gave you when you were pushing his buttons because you thought it was funny and knew he was going to teach you a lesson when he finally got you alone - in a consensual way, of course. He can see it in your eyes that he got you, that once his demeanor changed you would be more likely to listen to him. To ensure you would really listen to him, he moves his hand from your arm to touch your cheek again and asks, more softly this time, “Take it for me, please.”

Eddie watches you think for a second before sitting up - slowly, because you were still in pain, and takes the covers off of your head. You look over at the dog laying at the end of your bed, now asleep. Eddie takes the covers off his head and turns to the bedside table to hand you the pills and water bottle. He watches you swallow the pills and drink around half of the water in your water bottle. Eddie places his hand on your inner thigh to squeeze it and is finally smiling again. Yogi seems to sense that things are better now so he jumps off the bed and trots over to his doggy bed and lays down there. Once you’re finished with the bottle, he takes it from you and places it back on the table. He asks, “Now, was that so difficult?”

“Extremely difficult.”

“Ok, well we’re gonna stay in bed until everything kicks in. Once you’re better we can take the pup out for a quick—” Eddie leans in to mouth the word walk, so Yogi doesn’t hear him, “—and then we’ll order some take out. Sounds good to you?”

You nod silently, finally smiling at him for the first time since he got home today. He presses a light kiss to your forehead and you flinch away from him.

“Ok, yeah. Forgot to not touch your head when it hurts, sorry.”

Eddie watches you settle back down in bed and reluctantly gets out of the warm bed. The cold is seeping in through the windows and all he wants to do at that moment is just stay under the covers with you, even if it means sleeping in his clothes. You roll over to watch Eddie as he softly treads across the room to the dresser. He starts off by removing his rings one at a time to place them in a little jewelry tray, listening to each piece clink as they hit the ceramic. His hair is taken out of the bun he kept it in all day and he scratches at his head to relieve the tension from having it pulled back all day. 

His shirt comes next, pulling it over his head and revealing the skeleton wings tattooed across his back. You’re stuck there admiring the way his muscles move in the dim light. Eddie complains about how tiring it is being a mechanic but you can’t deny it’s doing wonders for his body. He used to be so lanky but now that he’s been doing this job for a while you’ve noticed how strong he has gotten.

He’s about to put his shirt in the laundry when you wolf whistle at him. Eddie whips his head around to look at you, smirking when he sees you giggling and crawling over to the other side of the bed now wrapping a blanket around yourself to keep warm. He balls his shirt up and throws it in your direction and you swat it away, making him cackle.

“Oh nothings wrong with you, you’re fine!”

You gasp at his accusation and reach down to the floor to grab the shirt so you could throw it back at him. As you’re grasping for it, there’s some shuffling and movement going on as Eddie goes back to getting changed. His work pants are thrown into the laundry basket with his underwear coming off moments later. You’re still watching him, now just admiring his body as a whole while he digs for a comfortable pair of pajama pants, eventually landing on a red pair with reindeer on them that your aunt gave him for Christmas this year. The winds outside from the storm are billowing, meaning more of the frigid outside air is leaking in through your windows. 

Instead of coming back to bed like you thought he would, Eddie leaves the bedroom and goes out to the linen closet. You have a small collection of blankets in there and he pulls out the thickest one in there. He returns seconds later and lays it out on the bed before climbing in beside you. Your eyelids are already getting heavy when he returns to you. You instinctively reach out for him and he pulls you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest with a hand stroking your hair. You roll over a bit to bury your face in the crook of his neck, mumbling, “I’m sorry for being a brat earlier. Thank you for helping me.” He pecks your forehead again and you don’t flinch this time. 

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I don’t mind taking care of you. Now get some sleep, okay?”

You nod against him and Eddie notices your breathing changing a few minutes later when you finally fall asleep. It’s the first time you’ve been able to fall asleep, not that you would tell him. You didn’t want him to worry about you or become a burden, but Eddie would always be there for you if you needed him.

[jenniquinn]

[jenniquinn]

so soft pt. 163

[jenniquinn]

No one usually calls Eddie by his full name, except you

“babe can I have my book”

“Sure” Eddie took your book from the table and walked over to the couch to give it to you

“Thanks Edward”

He slowly turned to look at you with disbelief on his face, he even seemed offended

“What did you just call me?”

“Edward, that's your name right?”

“Ehh, not for you” he said obviously

Calling him Edward and seeing the different ways he can react is pretty funny

Like that time when all your friends were gathered and you decided to have some fun.

Everyone was chatting in the Wheeler basement, you were coming back from getting a glass of water when you decided to have some fun.

“Edward Munson”

Everyone turned to look at you scared, when they saw you standing there they began to slowly get up and then went up the stairs leaving Eddie scared sitting on one of the armchairs

“What's wrong?” He looked at you with so much fear in his eyes that you even felt bad for him (just a little)

“I love you”

He had looked at you in disbelief

“And for that you yelled at me like the police usually do!?”

[jenniquinn]

[jenniquinn]

(18+ just a itty bitty thought)

Eddie wrapping his hand around the back of your neck so he can pull you up, bending you in half while he’s fucking into you. Keeping your head there even though it hurts cause he ‘Needs you to see how pretty your pussy looks wrapped around his dick.’

[jenniquinn]

Your Eddie NSFW Alphabet and what you said about oral makes me want to ride his face on the picnic table with his ring-covered fingers digging bruises into our thighs, keeping us in place and rocking against his face, maybe even despite our protests because he loves eating pussy so much that he doesn't care if he drowns or never breathes again as long as he gets to go between our legs.

Body Electric

I'm SCREAMING with out the S, my friend! Here's something I wrote for the idea 💖 comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, infidelity (reader cheats on her boyfriend 🫢), fingering (f), oral (f), a wee bit of overstimulation, drug mention, I think that's it!

You've never met a person as flirtatious as Eddie.

He flirts with everybody, but it's different with you. He flirts with you all the time—even when your boyfriend's around.

Especially when your boyfriend is around.

Which is probably why he suggested that you meet up with Eddie alone today, sending you off with a patronizing pat on your ass. "Maybe he'll give you a discount."

Eddie's giving you more than a discount.

It started with a game. Is that what he called it? A game? Or maybe it was a bet.

All you know is he was sitting next to you at the picnic table, making jokes, asking where your shitty boyfriend was with his shitty taste in music and his shitty stick and poke tattoos.

You hadn't meant to laugh. Really. But you couldn't help it when he smiled at you so wide, light dancing in his big brown eyes, his whole demeanor screaming I could be better than him, if you let me.

You'd watched his fingers stroking up the bare skin of his arms, admired the corded veins in his hands and the heavy rings he wears. He was still smiling when you looked back at his face, but there was something heavier in the air between you, something that makes the breath in your lungs catch on the way out.

"I bet he's shitty at a lot of things."

That’s what he'd said to you in a voice that just dripped with sex, your cheeks burning under his smug grin—practically chewing your lip off because he was right and for some reason you were the one embarrassed.

His hands slipped out of sight beneath the table, the tips of his fingers tracing along the inside of your thigh, his touch sending your head spinning better than weed ever had.

And then he'd shifted closer, the ends of his hair tickling at your jaw, hot breath on your neck and you had to keep your eyes closed because if you looked at him, there'd be nothing stopping you from burying your hands in his hair and tasting the cigarette smoke off his lips.

"Me? I'd never be a shitty boyfriend," he whispers, "especially if I had a girl like you."

That's how you ended up with Eddie the freak Munson knuckle deep in your cunt.

And he's definitely not shitty. Got you in tears with hardly any effort, stroking his long fingers against your sensitive front wall, just barely tracing circles over your clit with his thumb. The picture of patience.

He watches you the entire time, gnawing on his pink bottom lip, eyes so wide it's like he's forgotten how to blink, like he doesn't want to miss a second of this. Your own hands are clenched around the collar of his denim jacket, his wallet chain jangling with every shift of your hips. You're waiting to combust, to just burst into flames in his lap.

And then Eddie stops moving, his fingers slipping from your wet folds, leaving you empty.

God, the whine that leaves you is loud enough they should hear it all the way in East Hawkins, but you've got no chance pulling his attention away from his own fingers. He holds his hand up between you, silver rings glinting in the sunlight.

And that's not the only part of him that's glinting.

"Holy shit."

His fingers are shiny where they've been inside you, slick stretching in strands between the digits when he spreads them apart.

You'd thought you'd gotten rid of all your shyness, tossed somewhere among the leaves along with your underwear, but that's not the case. You're on fire all the way down to your neck, burning with shame you're not even sure if you should feel. Maybe you should apologize, just in case it's not normal.

But Eddie's not looking for an apology. He just slips his digits into his own mouth, kissing at his rings before pulling them back out with a wet pop. His spit smears against your cheek when he cups your face in his hand.

"You have got to let me taste you."

Jesus. You should really be more careful about what you're willing to smoke. All that shit is starting to make you hallucinate.

"What?"

Eddie's already on the table, rolling onto his back, flecking off chips of the faded red paint with every shift of his hips.

"Come on," he says, gesturing you over with a nod of his head.

He's actually serious. You press your thighs tighter together, and they stick a little with the spend he's already coaxed out of you. Your ass still stays on the bench.

"What if- what if I hurt you?"

Eddie just shrugs. "What a way to go, am I right?"

You're sure you don't have to tell him that your boyfriend's never gone down on you before, and you're definitely sure that he can tell you've never sat on anybody's face. The pile of nerves in your stomach shifts restlessly, and you know he can see that, too.

"I'm not above begging, baby," he shifts onto his side, leaning close enough that you can hear him when he whispers, "there's a very exclusive discount for girls who ride my face."

For a second, your nerves gone—replaced with an acrid jealousy. "Exclusive?"

He takes your hands in his, fingers intertwining shyly. There's some red in his cheeks when you look at him. "This is the first time I've offered it."

Okay. Okay. There's no way you could say no, even if you wanted to. He could get you to do whatever he wanted with one look from those big, brown eyes. Lucky for you, this is something you really, really wanted.

You press your lips to his before you can lose your nerve, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne and the barest earthy scent that follows him everywhere.

He's good at this, too—damn him—tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue as he helps you onto the table, pulling you into place until you're straddling his hips, body electric at the feel of him.

Eddie urges you up onto your knees, shifting a little beneath you until everything disappears under your skirt except for his smiling eyes.

"Ready, baby?" He asks. His breath feels cool against the burning skin of your thighs.

You breathe a yes, and he's on you, open-mouthed kisses everywhere but where you want him. Your legs are shaking, knees threatening to buckle when you feel the nip of his teeth, his wide, warm hands cupping your ass underneath your skirt, pulling you closer.

"Fuck."

You fall forward, catching yourself with one outstretched palm, totally ignorant to the splinters burying themselves in your hands as he guides your hips against his mouth, tongue spread wide and flat, dragging across your cunt.

Oh god. His lips wrap around your clit next, sucking a teasing little pattern, just barely nipping at the sensitive nerves. You're already overwhelmed by the sensation, trying to lift away from him, trying to find some relief, but there's nowhere to go. His fingers tighten around your hips, cool rings biting against your flushed skin. He's in no position to speak, but you can imagine what he's trying to say well enough. You'll get used to it.

You don't think you could ever get used to this.

He eases off your clit, like he's hoping to make this last, but that’s not gonna happen. Not when he flattens his tongue again, gently guiding the shift of your hips, letting you grind down on him.

"God, Eddie." You don't even know if he can hear you between the pillows of your thighs, but you've got to say something, easing a little more weight down onto his face, adjusting the pressure until it sparks through you again. You have to let him know how good this feels, bracing one hand against the ripped knee of his jeans, arching back for the right angle.

Eddie Munson is smiling against your pussy. He's never shut up for this long before, so you have to imagine what he might say, read the language of his hands and the shift of his hips. Hear his voice in your mind saying the dirtiest shit you can imagine. Use me, baby. Get your fill. Cum on my fucking face.

You're going to. There's no way for you to avoid it, not with one of his hands slipping around to the cleft of your pussy, his thumb sliding between your folds and massaging your clit as he french kisses at your core.

"Eddie, I'm- fuck."

No chance to warn him. You're disappearing, lost in the heat of it—your own personal solar eclipse. It has your vision dimming at the edges and your body shaking as it's overcome, cunt pulsing and head emptied of anything but the places where you connect.

And still he doesn't stop, laving his tongue over your ruined pussy, circling your thrumming clit until you're sure you are going to explode.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie."

You really do fall this time, slumping forward until there's cold air kissing your wrecked center instead of his hot, heavy mouth.

He's laughing, when you look down at him. Slick, shining mouth stretched wide over his perfect teeth, dimples in his cheeks collecting your arousal. He wipes his mouth off on the back of his arm, still grinning when he sits beside you, nudging your shoulder with his own.

"You good?" he asks, like he hadn't almost killed you. Could you die from an orgasm that good? You can't help but feel like you cheated death, like your spirit almost left your body.

And then your heart rate slows, and he's nuzzling his face against your throat, pressing little kisses along the ridge of your jaw.

"You there, princess?"

He whispers the words right up against your ear, nose pressed flat against your cheek, and you've got enough of your breath back to laugh.

"Yeah, I'm here."

You can taste yourself on his lips when he kisses you, slow and way too romantic for what just happened, hand resting on your own.

"Come on," he says, jumping off the table, "sun's gonna set soon."

He picks up your pink cotton briefs from off the ground, brushing the leaves from them. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looks back at you.

"Can I keep these?"

You nod, still a little dizzy. You'd give him a kidney after the way he just made you feel.

You're as shaky as a baby deer when you stand, but he's right at your side, holding you up with a surprisingly strong arm around your waist.

"You okay, baby?"

You nod, biting at your lip. "Can I, uh, would you give me a ride home?"

It's not that far a walk, normally . . . when you can feel your legs.

He just laughs again, pressing another sloppy kiss to your cheek.

"Sure thing, princess. Maybe we can stop at a payphone on the way so you can call up your piece of shit boyfriend and tell him he's not your boyfriend anymore."

[jenniquinn]

Hii, Dad Bucky ask🫶🏼

What would he do with a few months old twins or triplets? And maybe it was mother's day so he wanted to make something really special for reader as it was her first🫶🏼

Hi, thank you so much for this lovely ask. Bucky would absolutely make sure to make Mother's day very special.

Warning- Pure fluff.

The first rays of dawn were peeking through the curtains when Bucky woke up. He turned his head to look at you, still sound asleep, a peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, he stayed still, memorizing the sight.

Today was special. It was your first Mother’s Day, and Bucky was determined to make it perfect.

Bucky slowly sat up, being careful not to wake you up, and smiled to himself, thinking about today and how it would all go. He softly stroked your hair before slowly climbing out of bed, making sure the comforter was wrapped tightly around you and wouldn't wake you up. He quietly walked out of the bedroom, closing the door to make sure that his movements wouldn't wake you up.

The real challenge, however, lay in the next room.

Samuel Steven Barnes and Natalia Anthony Barnes, your beautiful twins, were already awake and babbling in their cribs. Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair as he prepared for battle. “Alright munchkins...” he whispered. “Let’s do this for Mommy.”

Dressing the twins was no small feat. By the time Samuel squirmed out of his onesie for the third time and Natalia decided to try her best impression of a gymnast, Bucky was sweating. But he persevered, and finally, both babies were dressed in matching outfits that read ‘World’s Best Mom.’

“Mission accomplished!” he muttered, placing them gently in their bouncy seats. “Now for phase two.”

Breakfast wasn’t exactly his forte, Bucky was grateful for the help from Steve, who had dropped off your favorite dishes from a local breakfast diner. Steve also had given Bucky an apron with the slogan, ‘World’s Best Dad, give Me a Kiss, Mom!’ on it. Bucky laughed as he tied the apron, appreciating Steve's humor, and thinking about how you would appreciate the gesture too.

When everything was ready, he returned to your shared bedroom with the twins in his arms. “Doll…” he called softly. “Wake up.”

You stirred, blinking your eyes open to find Bucky standing there, a baby in each arm and a sheepish smile on his face. Your gaze shifted to the twins’ outfits, and tears welled up as you read the words. “Oh, Bucky…”

“They insisted on dressing up for you,” he said with a grin, carefully handing Samuel to you while Natalia remained cradled in his metal arm.

You kissed each twin on the forehead, your heart swelling with love. “You did all this?”

“Of course!” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “But we’re just getting started.”

He led you to the kitchen, where breakfast was waiting. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit. You raised an eyebrow, and Bucky gave you a sheepish smile.

“Fine, I didn’t make it. But I did make the coffee!” He gestured to the steaming mug sitting on the table, pride evident in his tone.

It was no secret that learning how to use the coffee machine had been a two-month ordeal. You took a sip, smiling up at him. “It’s perfect.”

After breakfast, he handed you a piece of paper. It had the twins’ tiny handprints in bright colors, alongside a handwritten note:

Doll, I know this journey hasn’t always been easy, but you’ve faced every challenge with care, kindness, strength, and so much love. Watching you with our kids has shown me what it truly means to have a family. Thank you for everything you do, for them, for me, for us. I love you more than words can say. —Yours always, Bucky

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you hugged him tightly. “You’re incredible.”

You couldn’t stop admiring the tiny, colorful handprints on the card. You traced the edges of the prints with your fingers, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at Bucky.

“Okay,” you said, looking at him with a curious smile. “How on earth did you get the twins to do this? I know they don’t sit still for more than two seconds.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “It… uh… wasn’t exactly easy, doll.” He leaned back in his chair, the memory of the ordeal making him chuckle.

“First, I had to find non-toxic paint that they wouldn’t try to eat. That took me, like, a solid hour. I kept hearing Sam’s voice in my head lecturing me about safety.” he added with a smirk. “Then I thought, ‘How hard could it be?’”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Famous last words.”

“Exactly.” He shook his head. “I spread out an old sheet in the living room and put them in their high chairs. I figured it would contain the chaos.”

“And?”

“And I was wrong.” he admitted, rolling his eyes at himself. “Sammy decided paint was better on his face than the paper. I turned around for one second, and he had a red handprint right in the middle of his forehead. Talia, on the other hand…” He paused, groaning. “She somehow managed to grab the paint cup and fling it across the room. The wall might still have a little blue on it.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “Oh my god, Bucky!”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” he said with a mock glare, though his lips twitched in amusement. “By the time I wrestled the paint cup away from her, Sammy was clapping his hands together and splattering paint everywhere. I looked like I’d just come back from an art war zone.”

“Please tell me you took pictures?” you teased, wiping away tears of laughter.

“Absolutely not!” he deadpanned. “I was too busy trying to keep them from eating the paint or smearing it in each other’s hair. But eventually, I got them to cooperate. I held Sammy’s hand over the paper and pressed it down while humming to him and he loves that, you know.”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the thought of Bucky patiently singing to your son.

“And Talia…” He shook his head fondly. “That little troublemaker fought me the whole time. She kept trying to grab the paper instead of pressing her hand down. I think she was offended I wasn’t letting her ‘help.’”

You laughed again, picturing your strong-willed daughter glaring at Bucky with her tiny fists covered in paint.

“But after a lot of trial and error…” he continued, “and a lot of cleaning up, I finally got it done. I think I scrubbed paint off my arm for a full hour last night.”

You reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, your smile softening. “You went through all that just to make me feel special?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice tender. “You’re the best mom in the world, doll. You deserve it.”

Tears filled your eyes again as you leaned in to kiss him, your heart full of love for the man who’d gone to such lengths to celebrate you. “Thank you, Bucky. For everything.”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And, uh, by the way…”

“What?” you asked looking at him.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, pulling out a small box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace, the locket engraved with his and the twins’ initials.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you admired the thoughtful gift. “Bucky…”

“Happy Mother’s Day, doll,” he murmured, wiping away your tears before kissing you gently.

You spent the rest of the day in a blissful haze, playing with the twins, laughing with Bucky, and feeling more loved than ever. It was a day you would never forget, a perfect celebration of the family you’d built together.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

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[jenniquinn]

I know it’s not New Years yet but I’m thinking about how adorable it would be if Eddie had a crush on reader for months and decides he’s going to go to Steve’s end of the year party just because he knows she’ll be there.

He’s nervously pacing around, his eye catching yours every once in a while before he freaks out and disappears into the crowd. He’s almost smoked an entire pack of cigarettes trying to build up the courage to talk to you. You, who is not completely oblivious like he thinks, decide to make it a little harder for him. Teasing him just a bit. Making sure to slip by him, brushing against him slightly.

You can practically hear his heart pounding in his chest but no words come out when his pretty lips open to speak. Then he’s gone again, mumbling something about how stupid he is as he makes his way outside for yet another smoke.

The clock begins its countdown to midnight and you roll your eyes as you slip outside to find him. “You’re missing all the fun.” you call out to him, making him jump in response.

“Eight, seven, six..”

“Oh, I-” Eddie stumbles as you hear the voices shouting inside.

“Five, four..” you step closer to him, looking into his pretty brown eyes.

“Three, two..”

You reach out, gripping his leather jacket as you press your lips against his. An immediate warmth flows through your body as you both melt into the kiss, feeling him smile against your lips as his hand makes its way into your hair.

And then you fuck nasty in Steve’s bed.

[jenniquinn]

going to see ‘heathers’ (1988) at the movies as a double date with steve, jonathon & nancy and steve just leans over and says “hey, she kinda looks like your mom” to jonathon

[jenniquinn]

merry christmas to all the eddie munson obsessed bitches that celebrate

[jenniquinn]

"Gladiator II" deleted scene

Geta's nervous little swallow when he explains the proposal to Lucilla - you can tell he knows how important this is to lend legitimacy to their rule. Meanwhile Caracalla is just like "Adopt us 👉👈"

[jenniquinn]

SEBASTIAN STAN Sean Dougherty Los Angeles Times

[jenniquinn]

#Happy international Holiday

[jenniquinn]

SEBASTIAN STAN Photoshoots from AP Images for The Apprentice

[jenniquinn]

Joe and Snoopy pt. 2

[jenniquinn]

imperfect for you

rockstar!eddie x fem!waitress!reader

summary: it's hard, in the early stages, to grasp who exactly it is you're dating, and if you're worth the time in the end. good thing he doesn't see anything else but you.

author's note: inspired by the ariana grande song. i can't listen to it without thinking of eddie. this is just a small blurb, but lmk if u wanna see more of them and maybe i'll turn this into a mini series :)

word count: 1.6k

Working the closing shift at the diner is a peaceful predicament. 

But one hand, a yawn escapes your lips as the clock ticks by abnormally slow, the large arrow pointing to the number eleven. You lean against the counter, organizing salt and pepper shakers in a deliberate rhythm—making sure not to disrupt the quiet peace you have made in your little bubble. 

On the other hand, it’s nice to watch the sun fall  from the steamy, glass windows from Carly’s Diner, the red and blue hues reflecting from the freshly wiped tabled that still remain sticky after being rubbed clean. When the customers thin out, it gives time for you to rest your feet and sigh in f=relief once the rush is over. The line cooks in the back even manage to sneak in a burger or two for you to munch on in between taking customers’ orders. 

Every once in a while, you look back out into the dark.

The parking lot is empty except for a few cars of the cooks, Sandra’s beat-up chevy, and Martin’s Bug (who is still nursing a coffee this late into the day). The clock may be ticking more towards the early hours of the day, but your mind persists in waiting for that one specific car to pull quietly into the lot.

You hear your last name get called quietly from the kitchen. You turn to see Jim staring at you. “You’re off the clock,” he adds gruffly, not giving you enough to answer before swinging the door to the kitchen shut to get back to his own work.

A sigh escapes your lips, either in relief or disappointment—you didn’t know. The clock had been ticking for hours, but it’s as if nothing has changed besides your energy levels. You throw one last glance toward the window, the rain tapping faintly against the glass, as if it might somehow bring him in. But the door stays shut, the place still, except for the quiet hum of the freezer full of cake slices and the low radio speakers, playing a song you've heard too many times tonight.

You make your way to the back of the diner, unbuttoning your cotton uniform as you pass through the kitchen, listening to the cooks all conversing over the broken fan (you thank god that you are rarely obligated to be in the back during shifts).

The locker filled with your things swings open. You toss your shirt inside, because you just washed it and didn’t see a need to bring it back home. You put on your hoodie and bring the ends to the tip of your fingertips, shivering at the cold.

“Goodnight, boys,” you call out to the rest of the cooks, they give you their own waves in return, soft smiles adorning their lips before they go back to arguing over the possibilities of installing an AC in Jim’s office (they’ve been discussing this for months—you think they should just bite the paycheck and do it already). You peek out of the window of the kitchen door to see if anyone else had walked in while you were changing.

That’s when you see him.

Sitting on one of the barstools, jet black curls fanning the tops of his forehead closing in on his eyes. You used to be afraid of his smirk, unknowing of whether or not actual feelings laid under the surface of it. But now, you know for sure: under everything is a man who is looking at home.

“I can’t get a free coffee anymore, can I?” he says, gesturing to the hoodie and jeans that you adorn instead of the regular uniform.

You roll your eyes. “It’s too late for coffee,” you say softly, voice small and guarded. Instead of following his initial orders, you reach underneath the counter to pull out a chamomile tea bag, and a white mug. You feel eyes on you as you put a kettle of water on the stove, watching the water flow before it’ll begin to simmer. “I was worried you got held back,” you add. I was worried that I wouldn’t see you tonight. Your eyes flicker to him, but you quickly look away. I miss you. Our lives are too different, do you feel that sometimes? I get sad waiting.

You aren’t sure if Eddie can sense the tension the way you can. It’s hard to stomach that he was just out there, surrounded by people who adore him, living his life while you run around the diner taking orders, waiting for the day to end in hopes of seeing you. Maybe he was late because he didn’t want to show up tonight altogether. Those anxious thoughts are the things that swirl in your mind while you and Eddie coexist in the same universe, but completely different planets. For him to be here tonight feels like some cosmic rearrangement: planets moving out of orbit to ensure that you two are in the same place or not. You don’t know if that should be considered natural or not. 

As if sensing the energy from within you, he leans closer to the counter. “I would’ve come here if this place was completely locked up and you were the only one inside,” he jokes lightheartedly, but something stirs in your stomach at the truthfulness he holds in his tone. “Is that what goes on in that head of yours?”

The kettle whines, giving you an excuse not to answer. You shut off the stove and pour the steaming water into the mug, followed by the tea bag as you use a spoon to begin mixing the contents. You pull sugar from the side of the counter and count two teaspoons, exactly how you knew he liked it. “This’ll help you sleep tonight,” you say, putting it in front of him. “No more coffee past five.”

He smiles, eyes following yours in a desperate attempt to hold your gaze for as long as possible. He always does that; says he’s obsessed with your eyes. You recall the times once or twice where you stared deeply at yourself in the mirror to desperately see what he sees. Maybe his songwriting heart is writing prose upon prose as the seconds pass by, trying to capture a truth that cannot fully be put into words. You watch with a little smile as he takes the cup in between his lips. “Thank you, bug. C’mon,” he motions at the barstool beside him and you follow, leaving your way to the opposite of the counter and taking your spot beside him. He drinks quickly, taking your hand in between his as he takes big gulps as if trying to finish it all at once. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Keeping your hand in his, he stands up and begins walking to the exit, leaving you to trail behind faithfully. The bell above the door rings softly as you both step out of the diner. The cool night air bites at your skin and you find yourself edging closer to Eddie. He trades holding your hand to wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to catch some of his warmth. His footsteps are soft on the sidewalk, and your feet match him at a perfect pace, as if your minds moved in sync with each other. The planets are orbiting as they should.

He stops beside the passenger side car, hands in his pockets, and glances over at you. The neon from the diner’s sign glows faintly on his face, but his eyes are still all warm for you. He pulls the keys from his pocket and unlocks the car before opening the door for you.

“Ah–shit,” he mutters lowly, peering into his passenger seat. You peer in from behind him to see that his guitar is sat where he gestured you. You watch as he delicately takes the instrument, and lightly passes it off to the backseat. He wipes his hands dramatically, motioning at the now empty seat. “For you, bug.” You giggle. “Thanks.” 

Eddie’s car smells like a mix of vanilla and weed—a combined scent you’ve slowly come to associate with him and the comfort he carried. Who would’ve thought?

You see, dating Eddie is a peaceful predicament.

On one hand, you find it hard to believe that you have to share him with thousands of other people. His profession isn’t a topic of conversation you shy away from, but it isn’t every day you go into an in-depth conversation on how he spends most of his nights onstage, riffing on his guitar as his forehead catches a sweat from the velocity of his words spilling onto a microphone. You don’t talk about the crowd, the endless sea of people who show up to see him—just to watch, just to bask in the glow of his presence, while you get to experience it all for free.

Sometimes (if you were to ask Eddie, it’s more like all the time), you get anxious about how fast his life moves.Fast enough to match the rhythm of his mind, always racing ahead, always chasing the next thing. You, however, were all calculated and anxious, words only slipping after serious consideration.

But on the other hand, no one else holds your hand as they drive down the streetlight-filled roads to your apartment. No one else kisses each fingertip while you recount your draining day that is arguably less fast-paced than his, but he never interjects to say that. He never points out the insecurities she holds for being so different from him; mentally if not physically. Instead, he reassures you without a conversation needing to be had.

You lay your head against the passenger window and stare at his side profile, paying attention to the street though you know that his mind is elsewhere.

(You.)