#best tuning cars

[peonypyxels]

may or may not have spent the day unhinged buying office furniture & pc components 🙃

[ballroomnotoriety]

i was in the car waiting for sionnach to pump gas and was like "i should be more mindful and Aware Of The Moment" and then i immediately became Aware of a pack of ritz bitz in the door panel and there went that

[premiumautogrenada]

Best car tune up in Grenada

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[stuntcardrive]

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[lexicals]

Have also been gradually working my way through more side order runs, am up to 6 palettes now & have a couple more left to try before going back to the couple I didn't quite manage full runs on again with a couple more hacks on :>

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[norrisainz33]

Volley || OP81

☆ summary: in which oscar is obsessed with his olympic volleyball playing wife

☆ pairing: oscar piastri x olympic!reader

☆ fc & warnings: jordan thompson + pinterest & none

☆ requested: yes! thank you for the oscar and volleyball suggestion 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

oscarpiastri has made a post

liked by landonorris, mclarenf1, yourbff, ynpiastri, and 576,293 others

oscarpiastri: one last little trip before my gorgeous wife (god i love saying that) heads to paris! good luck champ 🧡

view all 453 comments

user1: when will it be my turn

user2: they’re the cutest newly weds i hate it (i love it)

landonorris: let’s gooooo mrs piastri!!!!

ynpiastri: thank you lan 🥹

nicolepiastri: i’m so proud of you y/n/n!

ynpiastri: love you mama p 🤍

ynpiastri: thank you for the best getaway. see you soon my love 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: i’ll be waiting with open arms 🤍

ynpiastri has made a post

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, teamusa, yourbff, and 45,345 others

ynpiastri: reporting live from paris!!! ready for my first ever olympics with the best team i could ever ask for. let’s get it girls 💪🏻

view all 201 comments

user3: my god she’s gorgeous

user4: hit that ball!! or whatever it is you do in volleyball idk i love you and hope you win

lewishamilton: you got this 💪🏻

ynpiastri: thank you lew 🤍

user5: never watched volleyball before but you know darn well im tuning in for mrs piastri 🗣️

mclarenf1: sending love from the mtc

alexandrasaintmleux: good luck pretty girl

ynpiastri: says the prettiest girl

oscarpiastri: yes, that first picture is my phone background now! thank you!

ynpiastri: you’re so cute stop 🥹

landonorris: he’s telling the truth i saw it

texts between you and oscar

teamusa has made a post

liked by oscarpiastri, ynpiastri, yourbff, yourteammate1, yourteammate2, mclarenf1 and 89,567 others

teamusa: and just like that, our girls are headed to the next round! USA’s volleyball teams sweeps France to move onto the quarterfinals 💪🏻🇺🇸

view all 235 comments

user8: Y/N SPOTTING

ynpiastri: could not be more proud of this team 😭

user24: we could not be more proud of you y/n

yourbff: AND I AM SO PROUD OF YOU MS GIRL

logansargeant: ayooo let’s goooo!!

user12: logan being here is so important to me ok

user18: loscar crumbs 🥲

oscarpiastri: that’s my wife 🗣️

user22: we know buddy, no one’s tryna take her

oscarpiastri: absolutely incredible match! so proud of everyone on this team

user65: oscar supporting everyone not just his girl is so wholesome

user66: oscar is the politest cat, making sure he compliments everyone

user88: america 🇺🇸 🦅🇺🇸

user24: came for y/n, staying bc i know love volleyball

oscarpiastri has made a post

liked by yourbff, ynpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and 756,021 others

oscarpiastri: it’s missing y/n o’clock so enjoy some photos from our honeymoon. the gold medal match is tomorrow so i expect you all to tune in!

view all 432 comments

user13: ty for reminding me i’m single

user14: mans is obsessed with his wife

landonorris: down bad o’clock i see

maxverstappen1: oh let him be! you’ll understand one day

oscarpiastri: what max said !!!

landonorris: okok i get it, i don’t know what it’s like to be a husband or whatever

ynpiastri: and when i say i miss you more?

oscarpiastri: brb hopping on a plane to paris

mclarenf1: oscar you have a race tomorrow

ynpiastri: pretty please admin

mclarenf1: who’s gonna drive the car then?

ynpiastri: zak!

mclarenf1: 🥹 be for real y/n/n

ynpiastri has added to their story

view story replies

oscarpiastri: how do you manage to always look so beautiful???

ynpiastri: osc 😭 you’re too sweet

oscarpiastri: never too sweet for you

landonorris: who’s your teammate 👀

ynpiastri: off limits norris

landonorris: you never let me have any fun y/n

ynpiastri: for good reason!!!

yourbff: you are glowing

user13: our favorite olympian fr

user22: i’ll be watching and screaming for mrs piastri like my life depends on it

oscarpiastri has made a post

liked by ynpiastri, logansargeant, mclarenf1, maxverstappen1, landonorris, yourbff, and 324,387 others

oscarpiastri: y/n “gold medalist” piastri. that’s it, that’s the post

view all 516 comments

user44: yayyayayyayayaay !!!!!!

carmenmundt: my favorite volleyball star

georgerussell63: mine too!

logansargeant: RAHHHH AMERICA 🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸 (did i do it right?)

ynpiastri: yes 🤍

user2: AHAHA LOGAN

user3: he’s one of us

user66: my mom won her first gold medal not long after my dad won his first grand prix 🥹 oh i love them

landonorris: DO YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING CROM HERE?!

ynpiastri: omg that was you?

user4: i love their friendship

mclarenf1: congratulations mrs piastri!!!

nicolepiastri: that’s our girl! what an incredible moment 🧡

user88: so proud so proud

oscarpiastri has made a post

liked by ynpiastri, yourbff, teamusa, lewishamilton, mclarenf1 and 876,355 others

oscarpiastri: my gold medal baby is home

view all 608 comments

user18: husband oscar content 😭

landonorris: thank goodness, i couldn’t handle you crying about missing her anymore

ynpiastri: u were crying abt missing me too you muppet

landonorris: your point?

ynpiastri: glad to be back with you my boy 🤍

oscarpiastri: glad you’re back but i’m already looking forward to the next olympics!! i love seeing my girl succeed

logansargeant: a bunch of simps 🤭

user19: if my partner doesn’t post me like this i don’t want it

user22: @.my partner take notes 🗣️

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: another installment of the olympic reader! as always thank you for reading 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[crmsndragonwngss]

Where were you when my walls came falling down?

You tried to hide, you stood close by, and didn't make a sound

Say something

[gojorgeous]

"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure. 

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm. 

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy. 

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile. 

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been. 

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment. 

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product. 

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower. 

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive. 

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god. 

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.” 

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him. 

“No problem.” 

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment. 

“You hungry?” 

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago. 

“Can’t say that I am.” 

“Hm.” 

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor. 

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?” 

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin. 

“Never said that.” 

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips. 

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?” 

Another flash of pearly whites. 

“Get it over with, hm?” 

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread. 

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.” 

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite. 

“That so?” 

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet? 

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed. 

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?” 

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close. 

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you. 

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close. 

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste. 

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again. 

A breath, a pause. 

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head. 

“Go.” 

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back. 

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in. 

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all. 

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away. 

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?” 

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips. 

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?” 

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin. 

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…” 

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it. 

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh. 

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming. 

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.” 

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh. 

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug. 

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. 

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks. 

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts. 

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.” 

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter. 

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it. 

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by. 

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?” 

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.” 

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes. 

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper. 

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten. 

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be. 

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…” 

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.” 

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high. 

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–” 

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.” 

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge. 

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away. 

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you. 

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight. 

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.” 

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed. 

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation. 

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready. 

“Satoru, it won’t–” 

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.” 

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging. 

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks. 

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers. 

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice. 

“F-Fuck, princess.” 

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake. 

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.” 

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good. 

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad. 

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round. 

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.” 

~

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri

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[luveline]

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k] 

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision. 

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice. 

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick." 

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?" 

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?" 

"What?" 

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound. 

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges." 

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer. 

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you." 

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you." 

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you." 

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool. 

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that." 

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?" 

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too. 

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?" 

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?" 

"Did you?" 

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely. 

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time." 

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to. 

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm. 

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt." 

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second. 

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight. 

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours. 

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks. 

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it. 

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like." 

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"It doesn't hurt?" 

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign." 

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do. 

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out. 

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap." 

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though." 

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you. 

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies. 

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks. 

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively. 

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too." 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest. 

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please." 

"I'm really warm." 

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there. 

You take a deep breath. 

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls. 

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side. 

"Look up," he murmurs. 

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes. 

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.  

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake. 

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair. 

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore. 

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight. 

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters. 

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face. 

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask. 

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?" 

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch. 

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please." 

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs. 

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?" 

"What for?" 

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him. 

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel. 

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?" 

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it. 

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?" 

"I didn't know they weren't real." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up." 

Your mind blanks. 

"Make sure I can hide it," you say. 

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole. 

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking. 

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return. 

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't. 

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be. 

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?" 

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light. 

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens. 

"Was that so hard?" he asks. 

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness. 

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have." 

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but– but I don't want good. I want you." 

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself. 

"I'm not good?" you ask. 

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders. 

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face. 

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks. 

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped. 

Wiped, but good. Lax. 

"That was nice," you say breathlessly. 

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile. 

"You're like a dead fish." 

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over." 

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started." 

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth. 

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug. 

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked." 

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened. 

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

[buckyalpine]

Actor Bucky x civilian reader 

I’m feeling angsty. Fluffy. Just a thought. But like a long thought. 

-

You should have known this would happen eventually. 

You knew you should have put your phone down and gone to sleep hours ago. Scrolling through social media did nothing to ease you mind as you stared at the 100′s of posts that showed Bucky whispering in her ear with a boyish smile. A sickly feeling spread from your chest, up your neck and to your cheeks, the type of heat that made your throat constrict and your eyes burn. The lump in your throat was painful to swallow, blinking back tears when you clicked on a video that had been shot by the paparazzi and leaked to the press, all the news outlets having a field day with brand new pics of a budding Hollywood romance. 

“Well, there you have it folks! Looks like Winter is warming up over here, stay tuned for more updates” 

“Single no more? Things steam up on the set of The Winter Soldier” 

“Swipe to get a sneak peak on the hottest new romance everyone’s excited about”

You wanted to throw your phone across the room, instead keeping your eyes locked on the way your boyfriend was cozied up with his co-star, the two of them seemingly giggling over an inside joke while taking a break between shoots. Her face was practically tucked into his neck while he laughed, both of them apparently blissfully unaware someone was watching. 

The image turned blurry from unshed tears, squeezing your eyes shut, turning your phone off all together. Your deepest insecurities reared their ugly head, thinking about Bucky’s effortlessly gorgeous co-star with her tall and slim build with curves in the right places. They looked like a dream couple; both attractive with obvious chemistry on screen and based on the “leaked photos”, in real life as well. Every single fear you had over the last few weeks were proved to be true with a few viral pictures. 

- 

Bucky groaned, silencing his phone after getting yet another unknown caller asking him if he’d care to comment on the latest headline about him and the lead actress in his upcoming movie. He ran his hand over his face seeing the way social media blown up overnight after someone had taken pictures taken out of context making it look like he was smitten and in love. His PR team insisted that a few candid shots would be good for promoting the movie and great for his image; when he agreed to having hired paparazzi's take a few “spontaneous” pictures, he thought it would be pictures with the whole cast; not just suggestive close up shots with his co-star that appeared intimate. 

Great.

He’d tried to call you repeatedly, every single one going straight to voicemail and all his texts unanswered. It had been a days since the new broke out and nothing had died down. Bucky hated that he was miles away from you, unable to even send anyone to check on you after you both agreed to keep the relationship a secret. The only person in his life who knew was his best friend, Steve, who was also on set. You’d been so understanding of his career, you hadn’t told a soul to make sure nothing ever leaked. Bucky knew you were used to a few rumors popping up every now and then about him and a potential new girlfriend but this was the first time there was photo evidence. 

New stories popped up like weeds. 

The last straw for him was when he spotted a magazine cover talking about his upcoming wedding and speculation over if there was a secret child on the way.

He couldn’t care less about PR or the movie anymore. A text to the director later, he was in his car driving off straight to you, carefully weaving through traffic while making a pitstop with his best disguise of a hat and sunglasses before speeding off once more. 

-

You sighed at the new stories that were still being posted on your social media feed, locking your phone once more to go back to the book you were reading. You’d ignored all of Bucky's attempts to reach out, choosing to spend less time on your phone, already drowning in insecurities and doubt. You took out a bunch of books from the library and spent more time the kitchen hoping anything would help take your mind off of the love of your life having an affair with another woman. 

The sound of the doorbell pulled you away from your book; you weren’t expecting anyone and it wasn’t usual for any of your friends to stop by in the middle of the afternoon. You were going to ignore it, thinking it was probably someone attempting to sell you something but-

“Y/n, doll I know you’re home, it’s me baby” 

Oh.

Your felt your stomach drop. Heart beating so fast, you could feel your veins tremble in your finger tips. He rang the bell again in hopes that you’d even hit him, smack him, happy to take it, anything to at least see you again. Your emotions swarmed all over the place, anxiety, anger, love, all of it fighting for dominance while you stayed glued to your spot on the couch. 

Asshole.

But that was your Jamie.

Dick.

But you loved him with your whole heart. 

“Babygirl” Bucky pleaded outside of your door, realizing the giant teddy that was 4 times his size and flower bouquet of 100 red roses did nothing to keep him discreet. “Sweetheart, please let me explain” 

You reluctantly opened the door, more worried that if someone saw Bucky at your door, a crowd of fans would end up swarming the area. If not for all the other emotions you were feeling, you almost giggled at the sight of a very wide, puppy eyed Bucky holding a stuffy that was larger than him and a bouquet of flowers that nearly covered his face. You wordlessly stepped out of the way while he dragged the comically large bear into the living room, placing the roses in its caramel fuzzy paws before turning to you.

You.

His pretty doll.

He could see your eyes were still puffy from nights of crying. Your lips were glossy from the balm you used when they were chapped after you’d nervously chew on them. Your poor little nose he loved to boop and kiss so much looked dry from how much you sniffled. Those gorgeous eyes he loved to stare into refused to even look at him, looking at your fluffy sock clad feet instead. You were still wearing a large hoodie of his but you probably hadn’t noticed when you slipped it on. 

Bucky hated it. 

His poor precious doll was so hurt all because of a stupid PR stunt. 

“Baby” You stood rigid as Bucky stepped towards you, his hand coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin, “Those pictures, they were taken out of context darling, they weren’t meant to come out like that-

“Then how were they meant to come out” You frowned, moving away till Bucky’s hand dropped, a sad sigh leaving his lips. 

“The team-they thought a few random, candid pictures would garner some publicity to get people talking. I thought they’d post pictures of everyone together, not just me and her”

“That doesn’t explain why you were so close to her” You fidgeted with the long sleeve of the hoodie, this time letting Bucky reach out to hold your hands though you left them limp while he gently squeezed them. “So that was all you then? That’s even worse Bucky” 

“No baby, no” Bucky frantically shook his head, pulling you closer with his hands now on your waist, “I pushed her away the second she got too close but apparently finding your co-star insufferable isn’t good PR. I looked irritated in all the other pictured so they didn’t use them. I promise baby, I’d never do anything to hurt you. I know I did and I’m so sorry, doll” 

While a part of you believed him, the other part of you couldn’t digest the fact that the rest of the world still thought they were a dream couple. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. You didn’t even want to begin to imagine the headlines that would pop up if the public saw you with Bucky. You couldn’t scrub the image away of how perfect they looked together, feeling frumpy and awkward in comparison.

“I can’t be like her Bucky” You struggled to keep your voice steady, not willing to cry in front of someone who clearly could do better even if he looked like he was ready to fall on his knees for you.

And then he did. 

“Y/n, I don’t want you to be her. Or anyone else, I want you” Bucky looked at you with pleading eyes, taking your hands in his and kneeling, pressing his lips to your knuckles. 

“But no one else thinks I deserve you. I thought I’d be okay with you maintaining a single image, I know it’s important for your career but I-I can’t watch interviews with people talking about how perfect you look with someone else, how you both look so in love-

“I’m done”

“What?” Your heart stopped, your hands shaking wondering if done meant he was done dealing with your worries, your insecurities, done with you-

“You’re the one I want. Not anyone else. I couldn’t care less about what others think baby, not when it’s hurting you so much. I want people to know who I’m in love with”

“But-

“If you’re not comfortable with it, I understand. But I don’t want to hide you anymore angel. Never again” 

Movie Premier 

You swallowed thickly, your heart beating out of your chest, fidgeting with the gown you had been dressed in, nervously twirling the ring on your finger. The limo came to a halt, the driver opening the door to a sea of screaming and cheers, a plush red carpet ready for you to step onto. 

“Ready, princess?” Bucky grinned, stepping out of the limo and reaching his hand out for you to take, helping you step out of the car. You gasped at the flashes of cameras and shrieks of fans coming from all sides, everyone trying to get Bucky’s and your attention. 

“James! Over here! Who is your date for the night?” 

“Miss! Miss!” 

“Over there, darling”, Bucky whispered in your ear while you smiled at a different set of photographers, each of them clambering over another to get the best picture of you both. 

“Could you step over here please, great, now one with the young lady, beautiful, James, one more!” 

Bucky simply smiled and nodded, keeping his hand around your waist, guiding you down the red carpet and stopping for more pictures along the way. He skillfully avoided the reporters who called for him, keeping a protective grip around you as you both entered the hall to get seated. Hardly moments later, headlines had already started spreading everywhere, your phone blowing up with messages from friends and family wondering if they were seeing the news articles correctly: 

James Barnes steps out with Mystery woman

Secret lover? James Barnes shocks fans with his premier date

10 things we know about James’s girlfriend

You giggled at the numerous posts that started to pop up on social media, your heart fluttering at the beautiful pictures of Bucky looking at you with heart eyes in every single one. There wasn’t one where he was looking anywhere else, focused on you the entire time and clearly people had noticed. You couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at the comments people left, silencing all the doubts you had in your mind.

Get you a man that looks at you the way he looks at her

No wonder he was hiding her, shes gorgeous

I love him but like can someone tell me who SHE is?!

Look at him, he looks like an absolute puppy around her

She’s perfect for him, they’re babies are gonna be BEAUTIFUL 

There goes my chance. I can’t even be mad cause he looks so happy and they look so cute

“What you reading there, baby” Bucky kissed your shoulder, peering over to see what you were looking at on your phone before slipping it away into your clutch. He smirked, sneakily nipping your ear lobe making you gasp before continuing to whisper in your ear. “They’re right you know. You look so beautiful baby, gonna rip this dress off as soon as we get to the hotel room”

“You can’t rip it Bucky, I have to give it back-” You hissed but he wasn’t having any of it, his hand moving to squeeze your thing, grazing your skin from the slit on the dress. 

“I’ll pay for it. But you’re right, I won’t rip it. We’re keeping it, I wanna fuck you all type of ways in that-

“Oh my god” You hushed him with a peck to his devilish lips, your face hot while he gave you a smug smile. He couldn’t wait for the news that would go wild in the next few months.

James Barnes proposes to long time girlfriend, y/n y/l/n

Ready to tie the knot? James and fiancée spotted at wedding venue 

Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Barnes!

James and y/n fly to the Amalfi coast for Honeymoon 

Happy Anniversary to Hollywood's favorite couple

Baby bump or food baby? Y/n Barnes steps out in oversized hoodie for a late night food run

Baby Barnes on the way? 

Double trouble? James reveal’s he and his wife are expecting twins 

y/n Barnes posts first pictures of babies and they couldn’t be cuter 

Bucky couldn’t wait. 

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[uluvjay]

Please, please, please-L. Norris

Lando Norris x fem! Reader

In which Lando takes care of you after a night out.

Warnings?: alcohol consumption, drunkenness, kissing, talks of sex, mentions of flashing, prob some errors, not the best ending, got the idea from tik tok so everyone say thank you Alix Earle for breaking my writers block!!!

Lando swore he was only turned around for a second, him and max weren’t talking for long before his best friend was laughing and pointing behind Lando’s shoulder with a shocked expression on his face.

Turning around Lando’s jaw dropped at the sight of you standing on top of the bar, your Louboutin heels stranded on the ground below you as you screamed the lyrics to Sabrina carpenter’s newest song.

With a laugh lando made his way back towards you, “Y/n!”

Your body spins at the sound of his voice, glazed eyes staring down at him as a large smile took over your face right as your favorite part played through the speakers.

“Heartbreak is one thing, my egos another. I beg you don’t embarrass me motherfucker.” You sang as your body swayed, foot pointing at lando as you sang the lyrics.

He couldn’t help but laugh at your shenanigans, his head shaking as you turned around again, your back once again facing Lando.

“Baby! please get down, it’s not safe up there.” He called once again.

“Fineee.” You whined as you turned back to him with a pout going to sit down on the bar in order to get down however the Brit found himself launching forward to stop your movements the second he caught sight of your panties due to your position.

Confusion grew on your face as he gripped your waist and pulled you off the counter himself, your hands shooting out to steady yourself on his shoulders.

“Lando!” You scolded as he placed you on the ground and picked up your heals from the ground along with your clutch.

However your drunken nature proved that to be impossible as you began to whine about your feet hurting leaving the boy no choice but to pick you up bridal style and carry you out of the bar.

“What was that for?” You groaned into his neck as you began to place sloppy kisses on the skin.

“You almost flashed everyone in our section darling.” He breathed.

“Oops” you spoke but the giggled that followed had Lando quickly realizing how far gone you truly were.

You were silent for the rest of the walk to the valet and as lando sat you in your seat before walking over to the drivers side of his Uris, making sure you were both buckled tightly before heading home.

“Can I see your phone?” You asked softly.

“Right in the console”

He laughed at the squeal that escaped you, watching for a second as your hand moved towards the volume nozzle and you turned it up almost as loud as his speakers would allow.

Soon the familiar tune of “Please Please Please” began to play throughout the car, your voice quickly following Sabrina’s as you serenaded your boyfriend.

Lando jumped at the feeling of your hand on his jaw as he rolled to a stop at the light, your hand turning his head towards you as you sang out to him.

“And I have a fun idea babe, maybe just stay inside. I know you’re craving some fresh air But the ceiling fan is so nice.” You sang, finger pointed at him as you leaned closer and placed a sloppy kiss on his lips.

Some people might have found you to be too much when drunk but lando loved it, he adored the way your affection was always on level 100, and how you seemed to giggle at every little thing, how you were unashamedly yourself.

Your small concert continued until Lando pulled into his parking spot in the garage and turned the car off, a cry of annoyance leaving your lips as the song was cut off.

“Sorry baby, time to go to inside.” He smiled softly as he unbuckled both of you and exited the car before helping you out and holding onto you tightly as he walked you into the house.

He walked you into your shared room, placing your heels down before coming behind you to unzip your dress.

“Ohhh, is it sexy time?” You smirked at the feeling of his fingers on your dress.

Lando giggled at the tone of your voice, doing your absolute best to sound seductive despite your slurring.

“Nah not tonight baby, but I promise to take care of you tomorrow if you’re feeling up for it.” He apologized, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade before allowing the dress to fall to the floor.

He moved across the room to the dresser to pull out one of his shirts for you to sleep in and by the time he turned back around you had already stripped your bra and had your arms raised in order for him to pull the shirt over your head.

“Are you sure we can’t have sexy time?” You pouted once you were dressed in his shirt, your arms wrapping around his neck as his came to hold your waist.

“I’m very sure, now let’s go take your makeup off and brush our teeth.” He spoke placing a small kiss to your lips before lifting you off of your feet and carrying you towards the bathroom.

Settling you on the counter he pulled out your makeup remover and cotton rounds, dousing two in remover he began to gently rub your skin.

“You looked so handsome tonight.” You spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, love when you wear your shirts like that.” You nodded, lip pulled between your teeth as your eyes ran up and down his body.

“Thought I looked like a slut when I opened them like this?” He laughed, bringing up your joke from before you two headed out for the night.

“Well yeah but you’re my slut.” You shrugged.

He shook his head at your words, his signature giggle bouncing off the walls of your large bathroom.

“And that’s all I ever wanna be darling, all yours.” He cooed, lips connecting with yours once again.

“Good because I’m not letting you leave.” You replied, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling his body closer to yours.

“Ever?”

“Nope.” You said popping the p, eyes locking with his, “Your stuck with me forever pretty boy.”

“I can deal with that.” He smirked before giving you a lingering kiss, the taste of your choice of alcohol for the night filling his senses.

“Mm, yep let’s get those teeth brushed, all I can taste is vodka.” He spoke causing both of you to break out in giggles.

Many people didn’t care for nights where they had to take care of their drunken partners but you’d never catch Lando complaining about it, even if you spent fifteen minutes with the same song on repeat as you screamed the lyrics, he’d never trade in moments like those for anything else.

After brushing both of your teeth Lando carried you to bed and tucked you in before stripping his own clothes until he was only in his boxers, your wolf whistle making his body shake with laughter before he joined you in bed.

“Get over here you muppet.” He smiled pulling your body closer to his, sighing contently as you snuggled into his side, leaving a small peck to his chest before he quickly hear your soft breathing fill the room.

He placed one last kiss to your head before allowing sleep to over take his own body.

-

[sp0o0kylights]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season. 

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner. 

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention. 

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends. 

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect. 

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note– 

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm. 

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire. 

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note– 

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly. 

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong. 

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom. 

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you. 

From there it only gets worse– 

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second– 

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?” 

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe– 

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly. 

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs… 

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find. 

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter. 

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically– 

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots– 

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path– 

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize. 

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level. 

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help. 

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.” 

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.” 

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.” 

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest– 

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–” 

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form. 

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek. 

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.  

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along. 

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly.  Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.  

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–” 

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. 

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now. 

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again. 

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges. 

Slowly, you pull back. 

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.  

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. 

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–” 

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away. 

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter. 

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes. 

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest. 

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind.