#but so expensive.... why are bras so expensive
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Ageless wonder - Lewis Hamilton
warnings: mentions of alcohol, Toto being an ass (himself)
genre: fluff and teasy Lewis
wordcount: +1k
a/n: I had to, 'shelf life' my ass
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
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Waking up with a hangover wasn’t new to me, Lewis was the one non-alcoholic Tequila master in the relationship after all. But waking up feeling like my skull is auditioning for the lead role in Crash: The Musical, though? That’s special.
My tongue feels like I licked an old battery, my hair probably looks like I got electrocuted, and the sun streaming through the window is public enemy number one.
And still somewhere through the haze of pain, I catch a whiff of something heavenly: Lewis’s cologne.
Thank God. Home.
There’s a low chuckle near me, and the bed dips slightly. “Morning, superstar.”
I pry one eye open. Lewis is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a grin that’s somewhere between amusement and concern, though he’s annoyingly chipper, like he hasn’t just watched me drag myself through hell disguised as a bottle of – real – tequila.
“Why are you so loud?” I croak, turning over to bury my face in the pillow.
“I’m not loud; you’re sensitive” he shoots back, that stupid chuckle rumbling again. “Rough night”
I flip him off without looking, which only makes him laugh harder. “Rough week actually.”
And it has been rough.
Toto, king of ominous sound bites, had suggested, in the newly launched Mercedes book, that Lewis might’ve been near his “shelf life.”
As if Lewis wasn’t out there fighting the excuse of a car they couldn’t understand how to work around, pulling phenomenal races from P10, setting twelve fastest laps, lapping four-tenths faster than his own teammate at some points.
And if there’d been more laps? Well, Toto might’ve had to eat his words on a very public stage.
I’d been at the race, of course. Watching from the garage, headphones clamped tight over my ears, my hands clasped together until they ached. I’d barely breathed until he crossed the line in P2, the garage erupting around me.
The relief was immediate, but it didn’t last.
I caught the frustration in his shoulders as he climbed out of the car, the way it clung to him during the cooldown drive to the podium interview and those mandatory interviews.
He’d wanted more.
He hadn’t said anything directly to me, of course—he never does when the sting is fresh. But I know the weight when I see it.
It’s in the way he’s still tense even as he waves to the fans, in the measured, overly polite answers he gives in interviews.
Watching him absorb the quiet digs, I wanted to storm the press room and defend him, consequences be damned. But what good would it do? Still, the knot in my chest wouldn’t loosen until I saw him smile again.
And then Toto had gone and made it worse. Of course. Lewis’s teammate was “from another planet,” while Lewis was just working with a “super strong car.”
I’d had to sit there and smile politely, even though every part of me wanted to grab Toto by the collar and shake him.
It wasn’t my fight, though—not really. It was Lewis’s. And Lewis, being Lewis, handled it like a pro. Calm. Measured.
Acknowledging his own faults while subtly calling out the micro-aggressions of all sorts he’s dealt with his whole career.
That’s my man. Too classy for this world.
But let’s be real: the post-race party in Vegas? That was for me. Not that I’d ever admit outside of our bedroom, but seeing him relaxed, smiling, surrounded by people who adore him? That was the real victory.
And the price for that? Me, nursing the world’s worst hangover and Lewis, laughing at my expense. Classic.
His voice broke through my thoughts. “You really went for it last night. Celebrating like you won something.”
“I did win something,” I mumble into the pillow.
“Oh yeah?” His tone is teasing, and I can feel his grin without even looking.
I finally roll onto my back, squinting at him like he’s the sun itself. “Bragging rights,” I said. “Because you…” I pointed vaguely in his direction, “…are a goddamn force of nature. And because everyone who said otherwise is a dumbass.”
He shakes his head, amused, but there’s a softness in his eyes now.
“And,” I add, smirking despite the pounding in my head, “I won tequila shots with Miles. That’s also worth celebrating.”
“Clearly.” He gestures vaguely at my disheveled state, and I kick at him weakly with one foot.
He dodges easily, then leans back, holding his phone up with a sly smile.
“Pot, meet kettle,” I muttered, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face in the pillow. Except that pillow smelled like him, which was entirely too distracting.
“What’s got you so chirpy this morning anyway?” I mumbled into the pillowcase, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
He had an uncanny ability to bounce back after days like these, his body apparently immune to exhaustion. I would’ve hated him for it if I didn’t love him so much.
“Just enjoying the comments on your last post,” he said nonchalantly.
That got my attention. I lifted my head to look at him. “What post?”
Lewis didn’t answer. Instead, he smirked and held up his phone, just out of my reach.
“Oh, come on,” I groaned, dragging myself upright. My head protested the movement, but curiosity outweighed the pain. “What did I do?”
“You don’t remember?” His grin widened. “It’s good. Really good.”
“Lewis.” I reached for his phone, but he leaned back, clearly enjoying this way too much.
“I think it’s fair to say the caption was… pointed,” he said, drawing the word out.
“Pointed at what?” My patience was wearing thin, and my curiosity was spiraling into mild panic.
He finally handed me the phone, and the moment I saw the screen, the haze of my hangover lifted just enough to make room for a new emotion: horror.
The photo was innocent enough—just me and Lewis at some ridiculous Vegas afterparty, his arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning like idiots. But the caption. Oh, the caption.
“All in on ageless wonder”
And my jaw drops. “Oh my God.”
Lewis is laughing now, low and warm and entirely too entertained. “You went all in, babe.”
I scroll through the comments, and my stomach flips. Hundreds of thousands of likes. Thousands of comments. Most are supportive—#GoatHamilton is trending, apparently—but a few are... less so.
I can’t help it but laugh. “Drunk me is bold.”
“Drunk you is sincere” he corrects, taking the phone back and locking the screen.
“Toto kinda deserves it.” I sit up, wincing as the motion sends my head spinning. “How long can I leave it up before PR calls me personally to tell me I’m banned from every Mercedes garage on Earth?”
Lewis checked his watch like he was genuinely considering it. “I’d say we’ve got a couple hours before the panic sets in. Maybe three if I keep ignoring my phone.”
I grin at him. “Reckless. I like it.”
He grins back, and for a moment, it’s just us. No hangovers, no drama, no shelf-life bullshit. Just Lewis and me, in sync as always.
He kissed me then, and for a moment, the lingering fog of tequila and regret melted away. All that mattered was him—his warmth, his steadiness, his love that he didn’t have to put into words because it was always there, in everything he did.
Lewis always had a way of grounding me, of silencing the noise in my head with something as simple as a kiss. It wasn’t just the feel of his lips—it was the way his hands cupped my face, anchoring me to him, the unspoken reassurance in the way he held me.
He didn’t need words to remind me that we were a team, that no matter how loud the world got, we’d always have this.
And I knew—I’d burn through a thousand hangovers just to feel this peace
“How much trouble are you when Toto sees that post?” I ask after a few moments of us studying each other.
He smirks. “Don’t worry.”
“Remind me to confiscate my phone next time I drink.” I lean back against the headboard, closing my eyes again.
“Not a chance,” he says, and there’s so much affection in his voice it makes my chest ache.
I peek at him through one eye. “You like chaos too much.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, still grinning. “Or maybe I just like you.”
Damn him.
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling now, the pain in my head fading to the background. Lewis has that effect on me. He always has.
And as much as I want to give him hell for waking me up, for teasing me, for letting me post that caption in the first place, I can’t bring myself to care.
Because at the end of the day, Lewis is Lewis. And he doesn’t need anyone to tell him who he is.
Although I’ll keep on shouting it from the rooftops if I have to.
Shelf life, my ass.
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On the list of things I got excited about today: Found the exact brand and type of bra online that I was dumb and didn't look at before throwing out when getting rid of my old one
#one broken strap and i was devastated like genuinely. that is my emotional support bra sir !#i did not expect to run across the exact same one while poking around online but i got lucky#but so expensive.... why are bras so expensive#this just has to be a birthday gift to myself i guess
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guys bad news, the wires are poking thru one of my good bras
#why would you betray me like that 😭😭#should i sew the holes or just throw the bra out#it's not an expensive bra so
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why is it whenever i gain weight it all goes to my tits so i have to buy the most expensive clothing item because my old ones don’t fit anymore 😩
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TIRED OF BEING POOR
I JUST WANT TO BUY WHAT I WANT WITHOUT STRESSING
#Ella life#Ella thoughts#I NEED NEW BRAS BUT MY BANK ACCOUNT AND INCOME HATES ME#WHY DO VRAS HAVE TO BE SO DAMN EXPENSIVE I'M GONNA SCREAM#I ALSO WANT NEW CLOTHES#AND I WANT LINGERIE#AND I WANT NEW TEA TOWELS#AND I WANT A CABINET FOR OUR DRINKS AND MUGS#AND I WANT TO GET NEW TOWELS BUT NOT JUST REGULAR TOWELS BUT BATH SHEETS#AND A COOLING BLANKET#I'm so tired of being poor#I just want to improve my quality of liiiiiiiiiiiife TTATT
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i dont want to give in to Modern Shapewear but i really hate when im trying to have a Fun Outfit and theres fucking Distinct Lines from various under wear bands (bra, undies, maybe a pair of tights?) all at separate points? that are impossible to hide bc the outer wear is fucking form fitting spandex
#toy txt post#if it were easier to make bespoke structured underclothing to create a smoother silhouette. god. i would. but thats so much more investment#in time and money and materials and hours to probably fuck it up at least the first coupke times vs just buying a fucking tummy control#camisole or some shit. but i cannot fucking stand the marketing around it. i dont want to put money to that. im not trying to Look Thinner#im trying to achieve a specific smoother silhouette w my clothing to look like a little clown and vintage silhouettes#rely so often on structured underclothing that the closest analogue to today is: fucking shapewear! unless i go out and get an actual#corset. but those tend to be more expensive. and im not aiming necessarily for the classic corset look i feel like a lot of the ones for#sale offer which seems to be very......booby. but the flatter more smoothing silhouette that was consistent between both menswear#and womenswear. the lengths it takes to be a nonbinary fucking clown. sighs deeply#also thinking again about the stupid fucking gold harley quinn jumpsuit i got like the movie that i Want to like and it Isnt Bad#but the material of the one in the movie is much thicker so its doesnt BEHAVE the same way as fucking form fitting spandex. and i know why#they did spandex. cos like. easier to sell cheaper to make fits a wider range etc. but i just want a fucking piece like that as an Actual#Garment of Clothing not a fucking spandex Halloween costume and couldnt find anything like it for less than $500. which is honestly#probably a reasonable price for labor and materials but not one i can justify? its just frustrating cos its So Close to good but the fuckin#Material just Ruins it for me and not even necessarily cos of like lack of shapewear lumpiness but like the way it drapes on the body the#way it stretches as spandex just looks Wrong. aaaaaaagaghgghghghggh#rage. anger. etc. need to learn how to sew my own shit at least a little. maybe a full length binder like 1 size up for comfort? scary#for context i also struggle with breathing from the lightest amount of Too Much Chest Compression. like sometimes bras will Get Me#so thats the other factor here. i dont know that this is necessarily looking for advice mostly im whining and complaining while doing#Nothing. ugh#also how much of this issue could be avoided if the form fitting spandex stuff had like. a lining. idk
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I'm going to spend 40€ on a bra pls someone stop me
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I have orange juice with breakfast every morning just after i take my HRT, the girls are not slowing down
[ID: a tag reading, “#don’t eat citrus if you have any mental health problems #the vitamin C is so bad for you” end ID]
losing my fucking mind over how people will come on here and say just the easiest to disprove absolutely inane lies. for no reason at all
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why are bras so damn expensive
#like JESUS#my mom and the shop owner talked about vacations because they know each other and shit#and turns out a night in a hotel they were talking about costs less than any 1 of the bras i bought#man. literally why is it so expensive
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started last night online shopping for new bras/bralettes because mine have gotten gross af, ended it looking at crochet bralette patterns so I could make a rainbow top for pride. I solved a different problem??
#here is my issue. here. is my issue.#I want the bra(lette) to be *not hideous*#I also have larger boobs. apparently.#like I don't think they're large tbqh esp. compared to my general body size/shape#I don't find it painful or especially annoying to go braless at home but it probably wouldn't be appropriate to do so at work#(it seems like a lot of people I know who do have large chests do *not* go braless which is why I said they don't seem large to me)#so I don't need something that is like miraculously supportive or whatever#I just need it to FIT my goddamn CHEST#I cannot stand the weird line/bump where the bra ends and you can see it through my shirt which is my issue with my current bra(lette)s#so even though I probably *should* try to find a better brand I think I'm just gonna buy the same brand again in a larger size this time#and hope for the best#(I went to get a proper bra fitting last year because I was more annoyed about how bad my bras looked then)#(and they fit me into an underwire bra that at the time I thought looked/felt good)#(except when I got it home and tried it on it was SO PAINFUL)#(like cannot wear for more than ten minutes painful. save for special occasions painful.)#(sometimes I put it on thinking I'll try to wear it for work and give up before I leave the house)#(it would have been okay if I'd only bought the one bc I could suffer through for the occasional special even but I bought two)#(and didn't return the second one in time and it. was. EXPENSIVE.)#(also can't ask my mom for advice again bc I don't want to admit to her that I did that lmao anyway)#why does she suddenly care about her bras again? haha well. um. well.#if someone *else* is going to see it I don't want it to be stained y'know??#I have some standards. minimal. but they are there.#anyway wish me luck with my crochet rainbow bralette for pride#I'm walking in the parade this year w my sports league so I gotta look Extra Cute y'know#if one of the men in charge tries to tell me we all need to be fully dressed I will simply bite his head off#bras cw
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#my stuff#fucking. why are bras so expensive 😭#and also all of mine are crapping out at the same time
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ppl here always talking wingless pads but what about the baffling 'light support' sports bra. why do they make that an option. why even get a sports bra that doesn't hold the breasts.
#cuz when shopping for them the other day....so many of them#twas so hard finding a high support one had to settle for medium which works fine too since its for daily use not sports#but like.#'do u want a sports bra that does its job (hold boobs) or one that does fuckall'#just get a tank top then 😭#was browsing with my mum and im not even like. chested out to her extent where she gotta get the special expensive ass ones but damn#sports bras for more than b cups and that have actual support pls#i dont wanna spend about hundreds on em tho lile my mum gotta do but man#is that the only alternative to get smth good that doesnt circle back to an underwire cuz its all they had left cjdjsjkgf#and its like they haaaad the stronger ones but why was it two models and all of them out of stock#its silly it shoild be the opposite. stronger hold makes more sense for sportsbra?? dont want those things swinging around??
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today on things I would never say to anyone irl but share on tumblr without thinking twice: my bra size has changed yet again for fucks sake
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angry that im getting more boob than i already have
#racing!#fucking. every time i blink a tit spills out of whatever bra im wearing at the moment and its pissing me off#why are they getting bigger. stop. im about to diy a double mastectomy at home#i dont want to have to get new bras. those are expensive. i cant just not wear one now for many reasons#binding no longer an option bc a) my binders are lost in storage/no longer fit and b) it hurts after a while#im so mad. its like just enough growth that theyre slightly too big to stay where i need them to (in the bra)#but theyre not big enough that anyone can notice yet so whatever i guess. thats a small win in this ongoing awful battle
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personally i think when ur tits are too big that they don’t carry ur size in stores, top surgery and breast reductions should be free
#bras are not made with fat people in mind PERIOD#WHY IS THE BAND RESTING SO HIGH ON MY BACK#i don’t know a bra shopping experience that hasn’t ended in shame and frustrationnn#AND WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE
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The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.
"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.
"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."
"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"
"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."
"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"
Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.
"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"
There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.
"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"
He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.
"Uhh," Eddie says.
The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."
And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!
"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."
Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--
"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.
The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."
"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"
The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."
For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.
The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."
This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.
The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."
With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.
Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.
The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.
"I'm Eddie!"
"I know!"
The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"
Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."
Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."
He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.
"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"
Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#fluff#meet ugly#but also kind of a meet cute?#flirting#rom com vibes#cycling instructor steve harrington#store owner eddie munson#eddie and nancy are bffs#bitchy eddie munson#eddie munson is an s tier hater
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