Nico Rosberg

i am going absolutely feral i cannot

i want this man inside of me

This scene changed lives

°•☆So tasteful☆•°

♦️ Mob! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♦️

Your baked treats are suspiciously good and it attracts the mob boss’ attention.

CW: fluff, humor, obsession, meet cute, smitten Bucky, grumpy Bucky

Words: 750

A/N: Engagement is so low these days, I might not bother writing more, but I still really liked this idea, so here we go with this drabble ^^

Bucky Barnes masterlist || Part 2

Bucky hates these meetings.

When he took over the organization, he didn't think there'd be so many pleasantries involved. 

While he knows some degree of diplomacy is required, he expected a lot less talking and a lot more killing. That at least, he can't mess up. It is second nature, after all. When the handle of a blade fills his palm, he truly feels home. 

But this… 

It makes the killer in him antsy, restless. What he'd trade for a good, old-fashioned hunt. A worthy chase. He misses it, the thrill that coursed through him whenever he cornered a target. The fear shining in their eyes, the realization there would be no tomorrow…

The prospect makes his blood sing. 

He listens intently to Danny’s report, twirling the glass of brown liquor in his hand. 

"We found out who the mole was." Bucky perks up, his attention fully drawn. Each of his men does the same, their faces tight. The sting of betrayal permeates the air, clogging the room even more than the lingering clouds of smoke. There’s been a rat in their ranks for too long. He's been feeding information to the FBI for weeks, ruining deliveries, delaying shipments. 

Bucky’s mouth twists in contempt as pictures are tossed on the low wooden table brimming with manila folders and half-empty glasses of alcohol.

He takes in the face of the traitor. 

Rumlow. He knows he should have erased every trace of the old organization, but the bastard did good work and never asked too many questions. Turns out it’s because he was too busy running his damn mouth.

"What should we do about it, boss?" Danny asks. 

"Bring him to me. I’ll deal with him myself," he replies without hesitation, emptying his glass to its dregs before clenching his jaw. 

But the unhinged train of Bucky’s murderous thoughts is halted when his gaze lifts to one of his henchman, Leo, humming loud enough for him to hear.

"What are you doing?"

The boy freezes. Dark crumbs line his mouth as he looks at his boss with wide eyes.

A nervous stutter spills from his mouth.

"Just…eating a brownie, sir."

Bucky squints at Leo, a deep scowl scrunching his features.

He slaps the brownie out of the boy’s hand who watches it fall to the floor with a dejected expression.

"Eating a brownie, huh? What do you think this is? The neighborhood bake sale?"

Another subtle moan rises to his left and Bucky’s gaze narrows to yet another one of his henchmen indulging in the sweet delights. 

His voice trembles as he points at the plate of brownies.

"They are really good, sir. You should try one."

"I should-" 

Bucky scoffs, disbelief fluttering through him as he notices how many of the brownies have already been eaten. 

"Whatever. I swear to god if you don’t s-"

The mobster’s irate rant is halted when a brownie is shoved into his mouth by a henchman. Bucky frowns at the audacity, ready to end the meeting and commit murder on the spot, but…then the taste melts on his tongue, sweet and subtle. Heavenly. The scowl on his face eases as anger dissipates. 

"Who baked these?"

"The new chef, sir."

His frown returns. 

"New chef? What happened to the old chef?"

"He was…disposed of when we realized he was lacing the food with poison."

"Disposed of?"

The henchman who spoke shifts awkwardly in his chair.

"You slit his throat, sir."

Bucky nods as slow remembrance sneaks inside his mind. He’s not sure how that memory escaped him. The man screamed a lot. It left quite an impression.

"Right, I forgot that."

The meeting resumes but Bucky’s mind is elsewhere. It’s not often he’s comforted by something as trivial as baked goods. This is uncanny; he needs to inquire more about this new chef.

Their intentions should be gauged anyway. Who knows? Maybe they too, will need their throat slit. 

He’d never slit your throat. Bucky’s sure of that. 

When the mob boss entered the kitchen, his intentions were clear. Interrogate or intimidate, most likely both. But when he gets a glimpse of your angelic face, wrinkled in focus while you cover a cake in chocolate frosting, Bucky feels like he’s being stabbed right through the heart. Over and over again. He could have collapsed right here and then. 

And when you lift your head to smile at him - the most gorgeous smile he’s ever seen - Bucky knows he’s fucking lost. 

Instantly, he knows, he needs to have you, no matter what it takes.

I do not have a taglist anymore. Follow and turn up notifs for my sideblog @straytales to know when I post something new.

Oscar Piastri

#op81🦘

Doodles and Dates (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Artist! Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Eddie has fallen for the quiet girl he sits next to in class who’s always drawing.

Y/N notes: none

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

Keep reading

Oliver Bearman

#ob38🐻

← Main Masterlist

Don't Forget It | Eddie Munson

Summary: When Eddie's head starts to fill with that self-conscious storm, he doesn't know what else to do but hide. But tonight, you're not letting him hide anymore, and you're certainly not letting him forget how much you love him, even if he thinks it's not true.

Warnings: Self-conscious Eddie, crying, swearing, angst!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This is a very angsty fic, and surprisingly it was very cathartic to write. It's not something I'd usually do, but for some reason, this idea really fits well.

PLEASE REBLOG FOR MORE EDDIE MUNSON FICS!

Eddie was one of the most open people you knew, and you could often read him like a book, his emotions so evident on his face. But sometimes, as easily as the wind would shift, he’d pull away, turning into himself and hiding away from you. This didn’t happen often, normally he’d be okay and tell you what was on his mind, no matter how awful or self-deprecating it was, but sometimes the storm in his head got too much, and he always wanted to protect you from the messy thoughts in his brain. 

You hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, the both of you busy with exams at different schools, conflicting work schedules and an overload of homework and extracurricular activities. But it was Saturday, and the first Saturday night of each month was date night, and so far, Eddie hadn’t called to cancel. 

It was early when you got to his trailer, the sun still beaming down on you, and there were kids playing on the trailer park playground, parents calling them in for their dinner. Wayne was the one who answered the door, cigarette pinched between his lips and work uniform on, signalling he had the night shift. 

Like always, Wayne greeted you with a wide smile, a quick shoulder squeeze and offered a soda from the fridge, which you’d never refuse when you knew how much he liked having visitors like you come around. Eddie wasn’t in the lounge room or kitchen, and you couldn’t hear the shower going when you moved around the small space. It was like Wayne could tell what you were wondering as he watched you, and with a gentle sigh, he leaned against the small kitchen counter.

“Eddie’s in his room, kid. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to come by tonight, I thought Eddie would have cancelled.” Wayne takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head as you give him a questioning look. “Look, it’s not been a great week for him. The record shop let him go, since they’re closing at the end of the month, his English teacher has been hard on him about some dumb essay, and you know how Eddie can be, he’d rather blow out his eardrums with music instead of talking through his issues.” 

You let a sad smile slip through, knowing Wayne was correct, that Eddie wasn’t great at sharing negative emotions, no matter how much they were affecting him. 

“I knew I should have called before I came over, I’ve got nothing but radio silence from Eddie these last couple of weeks, he’s probably not really wanting to go on a date tonight.” You weren’t upset. Sure, you were disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend, but you knew he probably needed space more than he needed a night out on the town. 

“You could say hello if you wanted to. If I know anything about my nephew, it’s that his day always gets better when he sees his favourite person. Eddie’s in his bedroom working on the next D&D campaign.” Wayne crunches up his soda can then, and tosses it into the trash, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before picking up his wallet and keys. “Anyway, hang around if you want to, I’ve gotta go to work. There’s money on the bench for pizza if that takes your fancy, and really, kid, check in on Eddie, I know he’s missed having you around.” With that, Wayne’s squeezing your shoulder again, saying a gentle good night, then heading out the door and to his truck. 

The trailer is silent then, and you’re all alone in the small living space. One half of you wanted to walk right out of there, get back in your car and drive home, leaving Eddie in the peace he obviously wanted, but your other half, the half that selfishly missed his company and his smile and his voice, was pulling you towards his closed bedroom door. And before you knew it, you were knocking tentatively, not wanting to wake the beast that could be lying dormant inside. 

“Hey, uh, Eds. It’s me. Wayne just left for work…and I know you probably don’t feel up to going on our date tonight, and that’s absolutely fine, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay?” The only response you get is utter silence, and you sigh softly, frowning and hoping Eddie would just answer the door, give you some sort of sign of life. But still nothing, so you push on. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much these last couple of weeks, but I’m always here to talk if you want to…if you need to. You don’t have to lock yourself away, Eddie. It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me everything, or if you just want to sit in silence together, but please understand that you’re not alone…please baby.” You pour your heart out to the closed door, but you still get nothing in response.

Giving up, and deciding that Eddie really did just want space and silence, you let your hand drop from the door and start walking away, planning to leave the small trailer and head home, trying to entertain yourself with the idea of a rented movie and maybe a takeaway. You couldn’t force Eddie to open up when he didn’t want to, or wasn’t ready, and you also knew you didn’t want to make the situation worse, but as you grabbed the handle of the front door and opened it, you heard a creaking behind you.

“I don’t deserve you.” Eddie’s in the doorway of his room, dressed in a raggedy Hellfire shirt and an old pair of sweats, hair a mess and hands marked with pen ink. He looked like he always did on a Saturday when you came over to hang out, but his eyes were red and his bottom lip was bitten and chapped. He could barely look at you when he spoke, but when you turned and looked at him, he knew you heard him.

“Hey, Eds.” You greet him softly, not wanting to startle too much when he already looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights, eyes wide and everything. Eddie sniffs, and it’s clear to you then that he’s been crying, that the red eyes aren’t from smoking a blunt, but from letting tears fall while he’s alone in his room. You fight every urge to take him into your arms then, and instead fight back the sudden lump in your throat. “How are you?” You don’t know what else to say, but you do nearly mentally face palm once that question spills from your mouth. 

“Oh, you know, totally normal, loving these summer days and so enjoying all the exams.” Eddie tries to joke, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, it falls flat between the two of you, a big, ugly, bitter joke that is hard to swallow and a complete lie, and Eddie looks away again, scuffing his socked feet against the worn carpet. “I’m…I’m sorry for hiding from you. I just, my head got messy and you know…nothing like a bit of peace and quiet to think through your thoughts.”

“Did the time help?” Your question is soft, and though Eddie tries to smile, a crooked thing that isn’t all that honest, you know the answer. He’s shaking his head, twisting his hands together in the way he always does when he’s nervous or can’t form the right words in his head, and then he’s looking away, and crying out.

“No…it didn’t help.” You’re crashing into him then, wrapping him tightly in your arms as he breaks down, and he doesn’t expect it, nearly fights your embrace. But then he’s sobbing, and melting into you, clinging to your hold and crying into your neck. 

The two of you are on the carpet, wrapped around and providing a lifeline that you didn’t know the other one needed so bad, and all you can hear are Eddie’s gentle cries and your sniffs, trying desperately to dry your eyes. 

“Why…why do you love me? How can you even stand to be anywhere near me?” Hearing those words spill from your lover's mouth has your heart breaking, and it takes everything in you not to cry in response. Eddie’s still got his face smooshed into your chest, avoiding your gaze, and the material of your shirt is damp from his tears. 

“Oh, Eddie.” You don’t know how to answer him, of course, you want to spill your heart out to him, but you also know that he’s delicate right now, and you don’t want to worry him anymore. But you trudge on, and run your fingers up his back, soothing the wreck of a metal head. “I love you because you’re the strongest man I know. You’re always kind to those who deserve it, always trying to make someone’s day better when they need it, you’re funny and sweet and talented and smart and perfect for me in every way.” Eddie’s smiling slightly at your words, but you can tell it’s not the real answer he’s looking for. “Baby, why do you think I love you?”

You hoped you’d get an answer, but Eddie just shrugs, hair falling in front of his face and eyes downcast once again. 

“Honestly? Half the time I don’t believe you when you say you love me. I mean, no one else has ever loved me, my uncle tolerates me, I know if I left town forever no one would miss me…” His words drifted off as you cupped his cheeks, urging the man to look up at you, thumbs moving to catch the tears that are about to fall, and you have to try with all your might not to sob when he utters his next sentence. "It's not that I'm saying I'm unlovable, just... some people have to be easier to love than others, right?" 

“Is this what you’ve been worrying about these last couple of weeks? If I love you, if you deserve to be with me?” Eddie shrugs once again, and for a moment you want to shake some sense into him, scream to the world that you love him and adore him, but you know that’s the last thing that’ll work.

“You could be with someone like Steve, someone who can give you everything in every moment. Someone who’s not an emotionally constipated high school failure that the world already gave up on, some who’s not into playing games for kids or music that makes your ears want to–.” You stop him then, a hand over his mouth, and you shake your head, hurt and sadness etched on your face.

“Sweetheart, I want you to listen real close, okay? Because for once and for all I’m going to tell you something, and you need to listen, right? You hear me, Eddie?” He only nods, and you remove your hand, letting it sit against his chest, right over his heart. You take a deep breath then lean your head against his, and speak softly so that only he can hear as if it’s a little secret between the two of you. And you would scream it to the world if he needs you to, to tell it to fuck off and stop trying to destroy a man who’s just trying his best, but you’ll leave that to another time. “I love you. I love you, and not any unrealistic or nonexistent version of you. I love you for you, and all of your flaws too. Sure, sometimes you can be a total butthead, a ridiculous pain in the ass and sometimes I want to yell and scream at you, but I will always take the good and the bad days, Eddie Munson. You deserve every ounce of love I give you, and you have all my love, and will always have it. I don’t want Steve, I don’t want someone else even if you think I do or that I deserve someone else, because I will always only want you. You’re my goofy, metal head who’s the sweetest man imaginable, always knows how to make people laugh, and always, always, makes sure I know that I’m safe, I’m okay, and that you love me. And I don’t want to hear any more of you doubting yourself about it, Eddie. If you think like this again, then come to me, and I’ll tell you that I love you as many times as I need to, in fact, I won’t stop telling you until I die.” 

Eddie’s smiling then, and it’s finally reaching his big brown eyes, a sight that has you falling in love all over again, and his hands are holding your waist, keeping you close to him in hopes that you’ll stay with him forever. 

“I love you, Eddie Munson, and don’t you forget it.” You’re kissing him then, gentle at first until he responds, and then firm enough to make it clear that this isn’t just another dream like he’s been having these last couple of weeks. You love him, you need him and you want him, and you’re not letting him disappear without a fight. 

Eddie’s breathless from the kiss by the time you’re pulling away, and he leans into your touch when your fingers card through his hair in that delicious way he loves, and finally, after his tears are dry and he’s smiling down at you, wide and bright, he’s uttering words you’ve longed to hear.

“I don’t think I could ever forget after that speech, sweetheart. And just so you know, I love you too, and I always will.” He’s kissing you now, all over your face and your neck and any skin he can reach, and you’re laughing into the space around you, a sound that’s so warm and lovely it makes his skin tingle. He’s relieved, finally out of that dark place he was for ages before, and though you both know that you’re not out of danger yet, it’s a good start. 

It’s during pizza on the couch in front of some dumb movie neither of you are paying attention to, that you repeat that you love him, that you take him in your arms once again and shower him with affection. It’s not the typical Saturday night date, but you don’t care, because he’s yours, and you’re his, and you’re not going to let him forget that any time soon.

PLEASE REBLOG FOR MORE EDDIE MUNSON FICS!

Tagging: @gold-onthe-inside @sadgirlml @gay-prentiss @writingquillsandpainpills @prettyboyeddiemunson @liltimmyst @thelaststraw3 and tagging some others that might be interested: @ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @boldlyvoid @lil-stark @ellesgreenaway @reidsbookclub

The Master of the Dungeon 👹