#i say this as a mixed race kid with one white parent and one not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

badomensbaby · 6 months ago

Text

rules of the road. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: finally getting your driver's license after moving to the big city for college, you're a bit stunned by your dorky, charming driving instructor.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, praise kink, mommy kink, car sex, safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content. (driving instructor! luke, racecar driver! luke)

words: 6,307

a/n: one beautiful evening, as i was driving home with a frosty from wendy's balanced in my lap, i saw a student driver vehicle and i was like! hm! what if... and then this kind of happened. i tried to keep a keen eye while editing but if there's an error, feel free to let me know! <3

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

You weren't a typically nervous person.

Growing up in a town where you practically had to just figure it out on your own, nothing really got under your skin. Not tractor maintenance nor harvest schedules, or that nasty little wasp's nest in the cattle barn in the spring.

But tests, those were a different story.

From college entrance exams to applying for your driver's license, those were the types of tests that made your heart race and your palms clam up. Because it was the unknown that bothered you so much. The unfamiliarity.

And, sprinkle in the fact that you'd left the family farm to pursue a college degree into the mix and every worry's been increased tenfold. As the baby of the family, first daughter behind a handful of rowdy, hard-working boys, being the first of your household to attend college was a serious milestone. You could only hope to make your parents and siblings proud.

But moving to the big city meant learning to drive. Well, legally. You've spent countless hours in your father's farm truck or your grandfather's tractor, you weren't necessarily inexperienced when it came to driving but you've never really been surrounded by other drivers. Just gravel roads and grassy two-tracks and your bothers dirt bikes.

The initial exam, a knowledge test about road signs and rules, wasn't too bad. They'd given you a practice test and a helpful guide booklet when you'd arrived at your appointment. It felt odd, being just barely twenty years old and taking a driver knowledge exam alongside kids barely pushing sixteen. You felt behind but it wasn't your fault.

Nerves didn't erupt in your stomach until the kind lady in the Secretary of State's office informed you that you'd be taking an on-road driver skills test. An instructor will watch you, quiz you, and grade you accordingly and if you fail, you can kiss your ability to drive legally goodbye until you pass.

Now that makes you nervous. Like there's ravenous butterflies swarming your stomach. You're already under a lot of pressure with fall classes starting soon and your part-time job, now you're worried about passing your driver's exam. The lady assured you there's nothing to fret over, that the instructor you've been assigned is well versed in the rules of the road and he's a total sweetheart.

Waiting in the parking lot wasn't the worst part. You were told he'd arrive shortly, a man named Mr. Hemmings, in one of the contracted company's instructing vehicles. Plastered with bright yellow stickers along the back, just shouting to everyone on the road that you're an inexperienced driver so take it easy.

Expecting some middle aged, married, grumpy man with nothing positive to say, the nerves weren't so bad as you basked in the moderate heat of the Michigan summer sun. Your phone pings a few times, a slew of good lucks and you've got this! from your family members. You don't even realize there's a stark white Toyota Camry pulling up to the curb until the scuff of shoes on the asphalt catches your attention.

"Y/N L/N?" A thick, low voice questions. A text message to your eldest brother sits unfinished beneath your thumbs, lips parting with shock. There's no bald patch or flat tire sticking out beneath his shirt, hell it barely looks like he's wearing a shirt at all because the white fabric is so snug and pulled taught over his abdomen and chest and arms that it's absolutely ludicrous. "Y/N?" he repeats.

"Yeah- yeah, that's me," You hesitantly stand, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jeans before brushing your now clammy hands along your thighs. His eyes flicker between the clipboard in his hand and you, shamelessly raking up and down your frame before clearing his throat.

"Great," His lips twist into a wide, toothy smile, shoulders seemingly relaxing at the confirmation. His stance laxes, nodding his head of bouncy, golden curls towards the vehicle that's idling behind him. "Why don't we go ahead and get started?"

You nod, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat, hardly maintaining eye contact with the instructor as you climb into the driver's seat and watch him awkwardly fit himself into the seat beside you. "Okay," He blows out a breath. "I'm Mr. Hemmings but you can just call me Luke, it's easier and nobody likes saying a long name especially if you're in a panic."

You barely manage a short, clipped laugh. "Rad. Anyway, we're gonna be in here for the next hour or so. I'm mainly here to make sure you understand vehicle safety and that you're prepared to operate this beauty on your own," With a laugh, Mr. Hemmings taps the dashboard with his palm. "Well, not this beauty obviously, but you get my point. Oh! And I have break pedals over here just in case. I haven't used them yet this month so please don't put us in a situation where I might need to."

He's funny, you'll admit. In a dorky, charming kind of way. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time and you're curious if he's just that way in general or if it's a front because he probably deals with some right idiots when it comes to being an instructor. "You're quiet."

"Sorry," You mumble, hands still folded in your lap. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"There's really no need," he assures you, turning in his seat with an excited smile. "If you've passed your vision and knowledge tests then this is like, a cakewalk. Have you driven before?"

"Yeah, back home," You tell him. "Mostly just old trucks, though. I don't think I've ever driven a proper car."

"Cool, car virgin. I like that," Luke turns his attention back to the clipboard, scribbling something that you're unable to make out because it's complete chicken scratch. "Well, why don't we get going so we can stay on track."

"Okay," You breathe out, clasping the seatbelt over your lap. Under your breath, you rattle off the first steps of safety before your hands ever touch the steering wheel. Seatbelt, check. Rearview mirror, check. Side mirrors, check. When everything seems as it should, you rest one hand on the wheel before shifting the vehicle into drive, peering out of the passenger's side mirror to ensure no cars are coming up behind you in the lot.

Luke stays silent, observing you, pen hovering over his checklist sheet. As you head towards the exit, you realize you have absolutely no clue where you're meant to go. "Uhh-"

"Take a left here," Luke tells you. Signaling, you check both ways for any oncoming traffic before exiting the parking lot, keeping an eye on the speed limit signs posted on the side of the road. "And at the next light, hang a right. We'll follow that through downtown and then get you on the highway for a bit."

Nodding, you try to keep yourself composed and not let the nerves get to you as you follow his instruction. You make sure to slow down appropriately as you cruise through the city's downtown area, briefly taking in the brick buildings and shops as you pass.

The vehicle's air is a little stiff, a little warm underneath the summer sun and you're considering asking Luke if he can turn the air on but he's too busy drumming his fingertips along his bare thigh to really pay you any mind. You'd always heard that driving instructors were very observant, overly cautious and very strict about everything but Luke's so laid back it's slowly beginning to relieve your nerves.

"Would you mind turning on the air?" Luke asks, eyes soft and kind when you glance over at him. You're just trekking along behind other vehicles, following signs for the highway that's still a few miles out. It's probably one of the things on his checklist, for you to tinker with something and hope it doesn't distract you enough to cause any accidents.

Glancing at the various knobs, luckily they're standard and simple, similar to your father's truck so pressing two buttons quickly has cool air flowing into the car. You feel a little more at ease, less of an iron grip on the steering wheel. "You're doing great, by the way." Luke chimes in.

"Thanks," You keep an eye on the Jeep that keeps randomly breaking in front of you, easing off of the accelerator when applicable. You weren't a newbie when it came to driving itself, just following the actual road laws and learning the flow of traffic. "I need to turn right up here?" You ask.

Luke hums with a nod. He's began muttering some tune under his breath along with his finger-drumming, as if he isn't remotely worried about you merging onto the highway. Picking up speed, you join alongside the few cars rumbling along the road. "We'll take this to the next town over, about thirty minutes, then we'll head back and do a few simple maneuvers and that's it."

You nod, fighting the urge to sigh. Who knew your road test would be so boring? There's no music, just the sound of your tires on the asphalt and Luke's low humming. "Why'd you decide to become an instructor? Isn't it- well, boring?"

A slow chuckle slips out of your instructor's mouth, elbow perched on the door, hand clasped against the side of his face. "It's not all boring, I swear. I just like helping people become confident drivers. You'd be surprised how many students I've had that are too terrified to even start the engine."

"You're pretty laid back, it's definitely making me less nervous," You laugh softly, keeping your eyes on the empty road. "Helps that you're not bad looking either."

Shit, you weren't meant to say that.

In your peripheral, you can see Luke squirm slightly in his seat, instantly worrying that you've made him uncomfortable. You're about to retract your statement and apologize but the grin that overtakes his pink lips stops you. "Thank you," he says honestly, his tone a little strained. "So are you. I mean, I wouldn't say not bad looking, you're pretty- like quite pretty- and okay, is it a little warm in here? Jeez."

You stifle a laugh at his nervous rambling. It's cute, kind of refreshing, too. But a weight settles in your stomach because no, you absolutely cannot think your driving instructor is cute. Doesn't that cross some kind of line? Break a rule? It has to. "So- are you uh.. getting your driver's license to.. drive to your boyfriend's house orr.."

Oh god, he's also pretty damn terrible at flirting. Normally, you'd find it cringey and a tad obnoxious but it's cute on him. Adorable, even, because he's definitely a handful of years older than you but he flusters so easily it makes your confidence soar.

There's nothing wrong with indulging in it, is there? It's not like you're gonna fuck him on the side of the highway or anything.

"No boyfriend," You keep a straight face, like you're intently focused on the billboards you pass by. "Or girlfriend." You tack on, just to see him flounder a little more.

"Oh- yeah, rad," Luke nods a few times. "That's- yeah, okay, cool."

God, he's so fucking cute. How'd you get so damn lucky to have him as an instructor?

Luke's tapping the window ledge aimlessly, almost looking uncomfortable but not with you, like something's gnawing at him. "Hey, can you pull off at this rest stop for a minute? I need to- uh- bathroom. Yeah."

"Sure." You signal off, slowing down as you near the small building, only a few cars scattered in the parking lot. Luke quickly unbuckles himself and slips out of the car, almost too fast for you to realize there's a tent in his shorts. Well, fuck.

You've never really been the hook-up type in the past, coming from such a small town there's slim pickings when you know everyone's faults. Only when your family would travel up to Mackinac Island or down to Kalamazoo to visit family would you end up fooling around with some local for an afternoon but that didn't happen very often.

Though the circumstances aren't ideal, there's obviously some kind of attraction on both sides. Probably just some silly short-term infatuation and who knows what's running through Luke's mind. But he's hot, there's no denying that, and guilt tugs at your chest because he's here to do a job and you're just being a massive distraction.

Luke returns about fifteen minutes later, a little flushed in the face but there's this look he's sporting that looks nothing short of pure bliss. You're not stupid, you can recognize a post-orgasm haze from a million miles away.

God, did he really get off in a public rest stop bathroom? What the hell was he so worked up over? You bite back any inappropriate questions lingering on your tongue as he buckles himself in and you merge back onto the highway.

Luke doesn't say a word until it's time to circle back. He's quiet, too quiet, thrumming his fingers against his knee in a rhythm you aren't able to recognize. You decide to go the exact speed limit, setting the cruise control and waiting for Luke to ask why you've done that but no such comment comes.

"You okay?" You finally ask. The two of you are trapped in here for at least another thirty minutes on the highway alone, then likely another twenty or thirty around town after that. The silence isn't deafening but it's making you a little uneasy.

"Me? Yeah- I'm great. Fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." The instructor rambles.

Something's definitely wrong. You're not a very confrontational person but you'd rather have whatever issue at hand out in the open than let it linger silently the remainder of your test. "Luke-"

As you're getting his attention, the car begins to splutter. Numerous lights illuminate the dashboard, a loud rumbling sound making the steering wheel shake beneath your hands. Immediately, Luke begins to press on the emergency instructor's breaks and with some guidance, he helps you pull off on the shoulder just as the engine dies.

Not believing the sight before you, you turn to Luke, who's equally as shocked and silent, both of your chests heaving. "What the hell?" You ask aloud.

"I have no clue," Luke says frantically. "The car's been running fine all day. There weren't any warning lights, were there?"

Truthfully, you don't remember. "I don't.. think so? All of them lit up before it crapped out."

"Shit," Luke curses lowly. "Let me see if I can figure out what's going on."

Luke slips out of the Camry, leaving his clipboard behind. You hear him yell, muffled, "Pop the hood!" And you do, after taking a second to find the button with your shaky fingers.

The longer Luke is beneath the hood the longer you worry. It's an early Thursday evening, on a fairly quiet highway, and the likelihood that some passerby is going to offer assistance is slim. Plus, tow trucks in this area only operate within a ten mile radius, so it's unlikely you'll find one for a reasonable price if the car is toast.

This is what you get for thinking he's cute, your brain tosses at you. You know it isn't true but it's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Luke slips back inside the car. "Well, one of the hoses broke," He sighs, digging through the pockets of his shorts in search of his cellphone. "So the car won't start even if we wanted it to. We'll have to call a tow truck."

"Of course this would happen during my driving exam," You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as a low, frustrated groan crawls up your throat. "Just my luck."

"I probably shouldn't include the fact that I have no service then, should I?"

Your eyes pry open. "What?" You ask, finding your phone and sure enough, no fucking signal. "Seriously? We're on the damn highway, not in the middle of the ocean!"

"Hey, we'll be fine," Luke rests his hand momentarily on your shoulder and you try to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin. Sheepishly, he pulls it away. "I'll see if I can make an emergency call to highway patrol."

"Please do," You mumble weakly.

Your father would have a field day if he could see you. Barely a week into living away from them and you're stranded on the side of the highway with a hot driving instructor. What a joke.

With no luck, Luke groans, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. "My phone died," he says. "Can you call on yours?"

"Yeah," You dial using your phone's emergency function, only to be met with CALL FAILED in big letters. "How the hell can an emergency call fail?"

"Okay, well at least we've both probably eaten recently and I keep snacks in the trunk," You toss a glare towards the blonde, not finding his statement remotely relieving at all. "What? Teenagers get grumpy so I always have granola bars on hand."

"So we're stuck," You sigh softly. Luke nods, hands toying with one another. "Until I get signal or someone passing by takes pity on us."

"I'm sorry Y/N," Luke says quietly. "About- about all of this. I really had no idea, this car's never given me any problems."

"It's not your fault," You glance over at him, noticing his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "I'm gonna walk a bit and see if I can get signal, alright?"

"You shouldn't go alone," Luke says, a bit rushed. "I mean, not that you aren't capable or anything because I'm sure you are - female empowerment and all that I just- uh-"

"Just stay here," You say, a little clipped. You aren't upset with him, just the situation. "I'll be right back."

Luke swallows thickly, blue eyes wide. "Yes m'am."

You slip out of the car and begin walking along the shoulder, grass and gravel crunching beneath your feet, checking your cellphone every few seconds in hopes that a signal will appear. A big fat SOS stares back at you, practically mocking you.

After ten or so minutes, you aren't sure how far you've walked but you can't see the Camry anymore. You know it'll cool off soon as the sun begins to set and it'll be best if you're somewhere safe. Regretfully, you head back to the car to find Luke scribbling on his clipboard in the passenger seat.

"Nothing," You say, checking your phone once more, noticing it's been about thirty minutes since you've pulled off the road. "What're you drawing over there?"

"Just doodling," He says, showing you a mix of scribbles along the bottom of your driving checklist. "What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck for the time being."

"Yeah, you're right."

It's silent for a few minutes, aside from Luke's been inking the checklist. "We could.. play a game, maybe? Something to keep our minds off of.. y'know, the whole car breaking down thing."

"What kind of game?" You ask.

"Oh- uh, twenty questions?" Luke offers.

You snort. Twenty questions is for horny teenagers, not two almost-strangers stuck in a broken down vehicle on the side of the highway. "Guess that's a no."

"What about what are the odds?" You suggest. "I played it all the time with my soccer friends, it's pretty fun."

"Okay," Luke agrees. "You'll have to explain the rules to me, though."

You sit up a little straighter, a smile unknowingly tugging at your lips. Maybe there's an ulterior motive ping-ponging in the back of your mind. Maybe.

"It's really easy. One of us says something like 'what are the odds that you'll make an embarrassing noise', then pick a number in your head, and on the count of three we'll both say a number and if it's the same the other person has to do that thing. Make sense?"

"I think I've got it," Luke nods, turning in his seat with excited eyes. He looks fucking adorable. You shake your head, getting comfortable in the seat. "Okay, can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay- uh, what are the odds that you'll.. you'll- tell me something about yourself?"

That's not quite it but a good start, Luke.

"One through fifteen." You say. "Three.. two... one.."

"Ten."

"Twelve."

"Ah, shit," Luke frowns. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," You tap his knee with the back of your hand without a thought, watching his cheeks twinge pink. "I'll go. What are the odds you'll pass me?"

"One in.. ten," Luke says. "Three.. two.. one.."

"Six."

"Aha!" You grin, victoriously. "See, I'm a mindreader."

"As if I'd flunk you," Luke rolls his eyes. "You're a good driver, Y/N. You need to be a little more confident but there's no way I'd fail you."

You need to be a little more confident. Sure, Luke was talking about driving but that doesn't mean you can't apply that statement to anything else, right?

"Alright, my turn," Luke rolls his lips in thought. "What are the odds that.. you'd be my friend on Facebook?"

"Facebook?" You ask, a brow raised. "Nobody uses Facebook anymore, Luke."

"I do," Luke defends softly, shoulders drawing inward. "Just play along, Y/N."

"Okay, fine," You laugh softly. "Uhh, one in ten. Three.. two.. one.."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Damn, looks like we won't be Facebook friends," You tease, the flush still bright and red and pretty on Luke's cheeks. He's so easy to fluster. You almost regret what you're about to say. "What are the odds you'll admit the real reason we stopped at the rest area?"

Luke's face falls. "I.." He glances away from you, clearly caught off guard and there's a stinging in your chest. You should've just kept your mouth shut, he didn't deserve to be called out like that.

"I'm so sorry, that was too far, I-"

"It's..okay," Luke lets out a wavering breath. "I feel really bad about that," Your brows furrow. "Look I- I think you're really pretty and this is so, so unprofessional of me but I uh- you said girlfriend and my mind just- went off on it's own. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. "You were thinking of me with- oh."

Luke looks away, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming down his neck. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was really inappropriate and I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," You assure him. Luke looks like a kicked puppy, unsure as his eyes slowly meet yours, not quite believing you. "Seriously, it's fine. I- yeah, I'm also into girls. I don't blame you for your.. thoughts, or whatever."

Luke sucks in a sharp breath, like you've said something sinfully explicit. "I- maybe we should end the game here before I say something really stupid."

He isn't covert about it, covering his growing hard-on, beginning to tent his shorts. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, trailing along the inside of your lower lip. Fuck, you have quite the opportunity here and it would be a shame if you let it go to waste. Consensually, of course.

"You're thinking about me with a girl again, aren't you?" You boldly accuse, your eyes narrowing in a teasing manner, watching Luke's gentle blue eyes widen and mouth fall open. "It's okay if you are."

He's so.. submissive. You've never really explored the whole dynamic of positions like that but making your instructor blush and squirm makes you feel.. hot.

"Maybe," Luke's voice is small, soft, and you're loving every second of it. "Y/N, I-"

"What're you thinking about, Luke?" You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the center console, your tone low. "Me kissing another girl, maybe? Getting all hot and bothered and messy and wet?"

A whimper crawls up his throat. "I- fuck."

You trail a finger along his thigh, tracing the leg of his shorts. "Maybe you'd just watch, huh?" You provoke him, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah- I would.." His voice is weak, lips parting and soft little pants escaping them. He's so easy for it, you love it. The dominance rolling off of you in waves seems to come naturally and who are you to deny it? "Y/N.."

"What, Luke? What do you need?"

Need. Luke keens. "I.. can I.."

"You wanna touch yourself?" You ask.

"No.. you, please."

You hum. How can you say no, when he sounds so wrecked like that? "Think there's enough room for us in the back there?"

"Don't wanna.. move," Luke mumbles, eyes already glazed over. He's so far gone. "My lap?"

You won't toy with him anymore, not when he's offering to get you off. To touch you. God, his fingers are beautiful and long and you're dying to have them buried inside of you. "Yeah, 'kay." You puff out, watching Luke adjust himself properly and helping guide you to sit in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

It isn't ideal but it'll work. He works with shaky, excited hands to unfasten the button and zipper of your jean shorts before trailing his fingers along the waistline of your underwear. "Can I?" You nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip in anticipation.

Without hesitance, Luke dips his hand into the waistband, finding your damp heat with ease. His fingers curl around you, whimpering at the warmth before a finger slips inside of you, slick and velvety. "Oh- fuck."

"Luke," You moan out softly, clasping a hand on the instructor's shoulder. He carries a steady pace, sliding a second finger beside the first, brutally hard at the warmth coating his digits. "Fuck, feels so good."

"You're so wet," He mumbles, like he's surprised, peering up at your blissed out features. "Fuck, did I- did I do this to you?"

"Yes," Your hips shift greedily, making his fingers sink deeper into you. "You're just so.."

"So?" You can feel his breath against your collarbone through your shirt.

"So needy," You moan, rotating your hips, effectively riding Luke's fingers, like he's some kind of toy. "It's so hot, how hard you get so easily- I- fuck, there."

"Y/N," Luke pants against you, his free hand trailing up to your hip, holding tightly. "Wanna make you cum, please."

"Yeah?" You breathe out. "Gonna let me ride your fingers? Fuck myself until I cum?"

"Oh god," Luke trembles, his movements faltering but it doesn't matter, you're moving steadily and the more you shift the more his fingers hit that perfect spot. You can feel it in your toes, that you're close, but you need something else to get you there.

"Did you think about me?" You ask, a light sweat forming on your brow. "When you got off in the bathroom? Did you moan for me?"

"Yes," Luke admits in a whine. "Yes- fucking- came so hard, Y/N. Thought of you the whole time."

Just thinking about Luke, working his cock so quickly in his fist thinking about you is enough, warmth flooding your stomach as your orgasm rapidly approaches and you're releasing all over Luke's fingers. Like a fucking floodgate.

"Oh fuck," You hear him moan, fingers slowing as your hips come to a halt. "Fuck, Y/N."

Blissful and warm and flushed, Luke retracts his fingers from you, the digits glistening as he slips them into his mouth with needy, complacent hums. He looks more wrecked than you do.

"Can I- can I ride you?" You blurt.

Luke goes rigid. "What?"

"I wanna ride you," You reiterate. "I wanna fuck you, Luke. Can I?"

"You- yeah, fuck of course," Luke's eyes are blue and glassy and glazed and you aren't even sure how he's functioning right now. He hasn't even cum yet so- wait. "Just give me a minute.."

Curiously, you shift back a bit on his lap to see he's half-hard and there's an obvious damp patch on the front of his shorts. "Did you cum while you were touching me?"

Luke nods. "Sorry."

"Fuck that's so hot," You can't help it, fitting both hands beneath his jaw to tilt his head upward, capturing his lips easily with your own. He tastes like spearmint gum and flavored coffee, it's all you can think about when you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. That was too easy, you can already feel his dick fattening against your thigh again. "Do you have a condom?"

"In my wallet," Luke pants against your mouth. "I wasn't like- expecting this, by the way."

"Neither was I," You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Let me get my shorts off."

Car sex seems so hot in theory until you're caught up in the moment and you're stuck trying to take off clothing where it's just not possible. You manage to slip your shorts off, leaving your damp underwear on before claiming Luke's lap once again. The condom sits in the crevice between his thigh and hip, fly open and dick straining against the seam of his boxers.

"Get yourself ready for me," You tell him softly, your fingertips trailing along your lower abdomen, along the inside of your shirt to cup your breasts beneath your bra. Luke's in a trance, nearly swallowing his own tongue before nodding and barely wiggling his shorts and boxers down his hips. He slips the condom on, abandoning the foil packet god knows where, before stroking himself a few times with a gentle hiss. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Luke squirms at that. "Thank you," he mutters. "Can I- are you ready?"

"So ready," He carefully aligns his hips with yours before slowly pressing inside, letting out tiny whimpers with every inch he sinks in. "Fuck."

"Y/N," Luke moans, eyes threatening to fall shut. His hands find your thighs, blunt nails digging into the soft skin there, hips threatening to rut upwards at the sheer warmth encasing his cock. It's immeasurable, how good you feel wrapped snugly around him.

"So good, Luke, you're doing so good," You praise gently, holding yourself upright with your hands on his broad shoulders. Once he's buried to the hilt, you slowly rock your hips in a circle, eliciting a short gasp from the blonde. "Such a good boy."

The simple phrase makes Luke choke on his own breath. "You're so warm," he mumbles, lips barely moving, chest rising and falling steadily. You rock your hips again. "Oh my god."

Luke isn't like the guys you've slept with before. He's sensitive and responsive and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. It's like he's fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, you begin to bounce in his lap, testing the waters. Luke moans every time you sink down.

"Yeah?" You ask him after a particularly whiny moan falls from his mouth. "Feel good, Luke? Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels so good," He babbles, a wheezy, whining mess every bounce you make. It's slick and wet and so fucking hot you know you'll cum again sometime soon. He's hitting all the right spots inside of you. It helps he's probably the biggest dick you've taken by far. "So good. Please don't stop, please."

"Not gonna stop," You mutter, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders. "You're such a good boy, Luke. Taking it so well. Feel so good inside me."

Luke lets out a squeak when you clench around him. "Mommy-"

Your hips falter briefly but you can't stop, you refuse, because that word, though you've never been called that before it lights a flame inside of your stomach that makes you want more and more and more. "Yeah?" You abandon your grip on one of his shoulders to clasp his jaw, making Luke meet your eyes, his half lidded and cloudy and dark blue. "Gonna let mommy fuck you, Luke? Ride your cock until she cums?"

Luke bites down on his lower lip so hard he swears he can taste blood. His head is swirling, like yours, all fuzzy and fucked dumb. Your pace grows quicker, a bit more focused but frenzied, until Luke's panting to the point where he's babbling words that don't even make any sense. "Gonna- please- need-"

"What, Luke? What do you need?" You ask, ghosting your lips over his own. He whimpers against your mouth.

"Wanna cum, mommy. Can I?"

"Yeah baby," You press a hard kiss to his mouth, pushing your tongue past his lips and that's all he needs, gripping your thighs tightly until he's fully inside of you before releasing into the condom. Luke slumps slightly, clearly spent but you're far from finished. "Stay still, won't you?"

"What-" Luke mutters, flushed and confused when you begin to raise your hips and sink back down on him. "Oh fuck me."

"So close, Luke," He isn't softening in the slightest. It almost makes you smile, makes you proud because he's so turned on, just letting you use him like some kind of fuck toy. "Touch me?"

Luke nods, blissed out, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing furious, hard circles. Your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds up, toes curling inside of your shoes before finally letting go and releasing all over his length.

Shuddering through the warmth spreading up the base of your spine, your nails sink into the instructor's shoulders, panting against his mouth as he tips his head up to connect your lips in a soft kiss. Your skin feels tingly in the best way, electric, and your head swarming furiously.

Luke pulls away first. He's so flushed, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and you're positive that pretty pink blush has reached his naval, there's no doubt. He's definitely a full-body blusher. "Y/N.."

"Yeah?" You ask quietly, breathless, noticing the windows have fogged up a little bit from your activities.

"Can you.. sorry, it's just uh- the condom's a bit uncomfortable." The blonde grimaces apologetically, reddening further when you muffle out a short laugh and slowly climb off of him. Your underwear are soaked, from your own release, but you slide your shorts back on anyways as Luke ties off the condom and places it hesitantly on the floorboard.

Now that the two of you are dressed, less short on breath, you figure it might be best to address what the hell just happened. "Luke-"

"Y/N-"

"Sorry, go ahead," You mumble.

"I wasn't- planning that. Or, expecting it, I swear," Luke says rather quickly, eyes flitting away from you, a bit embarrassed. "Please don't think I make a habit of this. You're- you're the first."

You swallow harshly. "The first?"

A nervous, awkward laugh tumbles out of Luke's mouth. "No, no, that was a girlfriend in high school. I mean- uh- student."

"Oh," You puff out a relieved breath, resting your head back. You're still warm and relaxed from your orgasms. "Well in that case, I don't really sleep with driving instructors, so I guess it's a first for both of us."

"It's not.." Luke trails off, his voice low, like he isn't sure how to phrase what he's thinking. "It won't be the only time, will it?"

That comes as a bit of a surprise to you. Again, you weren't really the hook-up type but the guys you have hooked up with in the past were quick to forget it even happened and move on with their lives.

You're stunned into a short silence. Will that be the only time you hook up with Luke? Sure, he's funny, and insanely attractive, but aside from the few things you've shared during the drive he's still almost a complete stranger.

"I understand," Luke quietly says.

"No I- sorry, I was just- surprised," You say. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not in a broken down car on the side of the highway."

Luke chuckles briefly. "Okay, cool," The tension seems to slip from his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm not really good at this. I don't really uh- date? Just, with work and everything it's hard to find the time."

"Being a driving instructor is that demanding?" You inquire, a lighthearted teasing lift to your voice. The highway is still dead silent and the sun is slowly beginning to set. Soon, you'll be cast in a hue of pinks and oranges and pretty purples.

"I race for a living," Luke says, catching your attention abruptly, your brows furrowing in confusion. "It's not something I really bring up in conversation or during uh- other things."

"You're not like, a Nascar driver or something, right?" You joke. Luke stays silent. "What the fuck?"

Way to go, Y/N. Fucking a driving instructor slash Nascar driver. Your parents would be so proud. Stupid girl.

"Like I said, I don't really tell people," Luke quickly defends, swallowing as an anxious look perturbs his features. "This doesn't uh- change anything right? About seeing me again?"

"No but if my dad finds out you're gonna be forced into every Sunday dinner until you're dead," You speak without thinking, still shocked about Luke's line of work. And here you were thinking he was just a dorky driving instructor for the state of Michigan. "Sorry, that was weird."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. He took your comment well, like too well, and you're starting to think maybe Luke isn't real at this point. He's too.. perfect. Handsome, dorky, a fucking racecar driver. "You're fine, I get it. Your dad's a big fan, then?"

"Huge," You sigh. "My brothers, too."

"You think they'd come to a race if I set aside some tickets?" Luke's teeth sink into his bottom lip, a hopeful look on his splotchy, pink face.

"I- I mean yeah," You stumble. "Luke, you really don't have to.."

"I want to," He reassures you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I really wanna see you again and if free tickets is the way I can then, I'd be dumb not to offer."

"For the record, I'd see you again regardless of the free tickets," You tell him, leaning to rest your elbows on the console. One of his eyebrows arch curiously, in a way that's so damn hot and Luke doesn't even realize it.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," You confirm. "By the way-"

You're cut off by the chirping of a siren, glancing out of the rearview mirror to see a State Trooper has parked behind you, lights flashing.

Well fuck. This'll be fun.

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #5sos x reader #luke hemmings x reader #5sos smut #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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olderthannetfic · 7 days ago

Note

A friend of mine has two sons. She says one takes after her family (she's Mexican with pretty dark skin) and the other is the spitting image of her husband (who is white). She's talked about how her son who looks white has been teased by his Mexican cousins for not looking being Mexican enough, while his brother with darker skin is accepted, even though both have the same parents and are equally mixed.

I haven't met her kids, but the first time I saw a picture of one I went "oh, is that [the name of the one who looks more like her]" and she went "what? no!!! that's my little white boy!!" And then after a pause "does he really look brown to you?"

I'm white and come from a very white background, my standard for what "looks white" is.... pretty damn white. When I see someone with light brown skin, they don't look white to me.

A mixed race boy with colouration like this kid's is considered non-white by white people and passes as white to Mexican people. Sucks for the poor kid, I'm glad he's got a great mom to support him

****

That was a lengthy anecdote, but the same is true of straight passing queer people. They might look straight to queers, but they sure don't look straight to straights.

Are you really going to tell my friend's son, who looks Mexican to white people, that he can't know what it's like to be treated like a Mexican by white people?

Because you're using the same logic when you tell a trans women with good makeup and the latest style of pushup bra that she can't possibly know what it's like to be called a tranny. Or whoever you think is too straight passing to be part of your little club, I don't keep track of who we're supposed to be excluding this week.

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umlewis · 1 month ago

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Lewis Hamilton: I've Struggled With Depression From A Very Early Age

From Formula One glory to making a film with Brad Pitt, at 39, the sports star is more successful than ever. It's been tough, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Sir Lewis Hamilton is the most successful Formula 1 driver in history, with 105 (at the time of writing) grand prix victories to his name, as well as seven championships and a knighthood in 2021. What makes this achievement even more extraordinary is Hamilton's background. He is the first and only black man to race in F1, a sport dominated by the gilded progeny of wealthy white families. A child of mixed heritage-his father, Anthony, is of Grenadian descent; his mother, Carmen, is a white woman from Birmingham-Hamilton was partly raised on a council estate in Stevenage, his family sacrificing so much to get him to the track. "I am grateful I had that experience. I remember not having any money. I remember the struggle of my parents. I feel that's an advantage," he says. "Did you fight harder on the track because it was so tough for you to get there," I ask. "One thousand per cent," he replies. We are meeting at the Kensington Roof Gardens (Hamilton has a home in London, as well as Monaco, Geneva, Colorado and New York). He is a vision in expensive beige: Maison Margiela slacks, chunky Bottega Veneta boots, a Dries Van Noten cardigan, Dior bracelets, Cartier rings, a pearl necklace he bought online, twinkly little studs, one for each side of his nose, his hands a collage of geometric tattoos. But his love of fashion goes beyond amassing a "dream" wardrobe. He has collaborated with Tommy Hilfiger on several collections and has just been made guest designer at Dior, for whom he has a debut collection coming this autumn, the palette for which was inspired by his travels in Africa, particularly Nigeria. Hamilton agrees it's a busy time for him. At the end of this season he will be moving to Ferrari, after twelve years with Mercedes. "It's been a rollercoaster of emotions from the moment I signed the contract. Telling my boss, that was terrifying. But it's so exciting because I remember as a kid watching Michael. Every driver watches that car and you're like, 'What would it be like to sit in the red cockpit?'" He is a quiet presence, boyish almost, despite his 39 years. He uses euphemisms for swearwords such as "frick" and "shoot." He doesn't drink, is "plant-based," and loves hanging out with his nieces and nephew, playing Uno and Fortnite, chucking them about in the pool on holiday. "I'm really good with the kids," he says, setting aside his oat latte. "With them I feel like I'm able to be the kid that I am."

Hamilton's own childhood was not so carefree. His parents separated when he was two, his father meeting his new wife, Linda, at British Rail, where they both worked. Sundays with his dad were spent watching Formula 1. This was the era of the talismanic Brazilian driver Ayrton Senna, Hamilton's hero. It was during a holiday in Ibiza that he first got in a go-kart. "I was hooked," he says. "The adrenaline, the chaos, trying to control it. You feel it in your chest, your emotions, through your fingers, everything." Hamilton's dad bought him a kart for Christmas when he was eight. "I think he just wanted something to do with me, this kid that had all this energy, that had no fear." He describes himself, back then, as a "Tasmanian devil," a child who didn't enjoy school, who had undiagnosed dyslexia, who was shy - but behind the wheel "something flowed through me. It was the only thing I was confident in." The family began to orientate their existence around Hamilton's racing, his father taking extra jobs, while his stepmum spent all her savings on his new passion. Hamilton won his first race when he was ten. "That was really empowering for me," he says, 'Because I was competing against a lot of wealthier families."

It was also around this time that Senna died, his car crashing into a concrete barrier during the San Marino Grand Prix. "I was with my dad; we were working on the go-kart. I remember going to the front and crying, bawling my eyes out. I couldn't cry in front of my dad. He was not that kind of guy." Hamilton suppressed his grief, in the same way that he suppressed his emotions about the bullying and racism he endured. "There was no escaping it. You experience it at school, in the parks, walking through town. I didn't understand it and my parents never spoke to me about it. They never explained what was going on. My dad was just, 'Keep your head down, hold it in, don't say anything, just beat them on the track, that's all you can do.'" So that was what he did. When Hamilton was thirteen he was offered a place on the McLaren driver development team. His father became his manager, looking after all elements of his career, including finance. "Even when I got to Formula 1, at 22, I had no comprehension of money," he says. Hamilton's first F1 season was in 2007, his first championship win in 2008. But despite all that it gave him, despite his deep love of the sport, of competing, Hamilton found the world of F1 corporate and stifling. There was a requirement to conform, a residual feeling that just one misstep and the opportunities he had been given would be taken away. "It wasn't until I'd had some wins that I started to put my toe out of the box. Each time it was, like, you make one step and that rock's safe, but that next one was wobbly or would fall away. You'd get criticism about how you were presenting yourself. But I kept punching and kept fighting." Racing, like so much competitive sport, can be a lonely business. "You're nice and friendly outside the car," Hamilton says, "but in the car my dad would say you have to be ruthless, aggressive, sharp. In the car there are no friends." He found greater freedom, a sense of belonging and camaraderie, in the fashion world, attending his first show in 2007. "Everyone was wearing what they wanted. You didn't feel like you were being judged because everyone's on their own vibe. It was the first time I got into an environment where everyone was expressing themselves and I loved it."

Hamilton tried to bring some of that creative freedom to his professional life. In 2010 he sacked his father as manager. "Obviously parents try to protect their kids, forever I guess, and some don't want to let go. My dad struggled with that. There was a point when I was like, 'Look, I've done everything you've asked me to do, now let me live my life. I am going to have to make my own mistakes.' That was a really tough process." At the end of the 2012 season he left McLaren for Mercedes. "They gave me a lot more freedom," he says. He became involved in the look of the team, bringing in Hilfiger to help redesign the clothing. "But still if I felt there were wrongdoings, I didn't feel I could speak out." That all changed in 2020, when Hamilton watched a video of the murder of George Floyd by the policeman Derek Chauvin. "The cork popped. It had me on my knees in tears. All this emotion came out. It was such a strange experience because I don't remember crying since I was really young. I knew that I'd had enough, I really needed to speak out. There are people that are staying silent, people that feel voiceless, and I have this platform. Winning championships is an amazing thing, but what are you doing with it? What are you doing with your time on this planet?" These were the questions that Hamilton began asking himself during that pandemic year, which was also when he started meditating. "I would struggle initially to calm my mind, but it's a really great way of getting in touch with myself, my inner feelings, understanding what I want to do." These days he meditates every morning, waking at five, following this with a ten km run, which he sees as an extension of his meditation, a time to have ideas, to clear his mind.

"When I was in my twenties I had some really difficult phases. I mean, I’ve struggled with mental health through my life." What are we talking, I ask. Anxiety, depression? "Depression. From a very early age, when I was, like, thirteen . I think it was the pressure of the racing and struggling at school, the bullying. I had no one to talk to." I ask if he has ever seen a therapist. "I spoke to one woman, years ago, but that wasn't really helpful. I would like to find someone today." He has gone on silent retreats and reads books about mental health, including The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. "You're learning about things that have been passed down to you from your parents, noticing those patterns, how you react to things, how you can change those. So what might have angered me in the past doesn't anger me today. I am so much more refined." The year 2020 was a time of profound personal change. Hamilton took the knee before every race he entered that year. He advocated for change within his industry, initiating the Hamilton Commission to research the underrepresentation of black people in UK motorsport and the STEM sector. Using this information, he launched Mission 44, a charity to help young people around the world overcome social injustice, investing £20 million (he is worth an estimated £350 million) into the project.

He also started moving into other spheres with greater purpose, including fashion and music. He developed a non-alcoholic drink, Almave, and set up a film production company. "I want to be able to tell diverse stories. Film has changed my life. There is so much inspiration I have received," he says. One of his first co-productions is F1, the upcoming movie with Brad Pitt and a more diverse vision of the circuit, including a female technical director. "That was important to me. I lived with my dad, but I was really raised by my two mums and my two sisters. I grew up around a lot of female energy, powerful women. Most of the people on my team are women. The women hold it down." And, of course, there is Pitt playing a driver in his fifties. "That was a tricky part for me," Hamilton says, "because, shoot, of course we want Brad. But I was like, there is no way a 58 year old can compete with a twenty year old. These guys have got nothing going on but to race. And they're fit. So we had to work around this narrative, telling him how much harder he would have to train to get in shape." Hamilton himself is old for an F1 driver, most of whom retire in their thirties. His replacement at Mercedes, the Italian Kimi Antonelli, has only just turned eighteen. You could be his dad, I say, and Hamilton laughs like this hadn't actually occurred to him. "Honestly, right now I feel I'm healthier than I've ever been," he says. "I'm in such a good place, physically and mentally. My reaction times are still quicker than the young guys. I think I'm a better driver than I was at 22. I was just young, energetic and ruthless, but no finesse, no balance. I didn't know how to be a team player, how to be a leader. Being a good racing driver, it's not just about being fast. It's about being the most rounded. When I study the legends, they're spread between small percentages, so it's the whole package. What do they speak for, stand for? That's what I look at. I look to Ayrton Senna and Nelson Mandela, and those are the two people gelled together that I want to be."

Senna used to cross himself before every race. Like him, Hamilton was raised a Catholic. "I pray every time before I race," he says. "I pray that everyone is safe." Motor racing is far less dangerous than it used to be, but people still die. I ask Hamilton if he fears death when he drives. "I don't, no," he says. "But still, we're traveling at crazy speeds. You have to respect it. So that's why I'm conscious of the time I spend with my family, with my mum. Is this the last time I get to hug her? Because you just don't know. Nothing is guaranteed." Hamilton is single, but he would like to have a family. "One day. I wouldn't be able to do what I do to the level that I do it today with that. One of my best friends has just had a kid and I'm seeing how manic it is. And my nieces and nephew are a handful. There will be a time and a place for it, and I can't wait for that part. But right now I have some work to do."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #not a race #2024 not a race #between singapore and usa 2024 #(note to self: article posted 6 pm bst on sep 28 2024. no idea when actually conducted.)#tw alcohol #tw racism #tw police brutality

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swiss-mrs · 9 months ago

Text

EDDIE MUNSON X SINCLAIR!READER

just me rambling on again about how Eddie loves a black woman from infinity to infinityyyy

there's a 'face claim' under the cut because i said so. you've been warned

okay, listen here.

Ever since your family moved to Hawkins, life has been... different

You just turned 13 when your family uprooted to the small town in Indiana. Lucas was 10, and Erica was only 6.

It was a bit easier for your younger siblings to adjust, but you had to start fresh during your last year of middle school, going into high school. That sucked like a bitch.

Transitioning from a larger city with a decent mix of races to a predominantly white town was about as smooth as it sounded, not at all.

Though racism was not terrible, there were plenty of backhanded compliments, passive aggressiveness, and snarky comments.

You were always so "well-spoken", "well-mannered", "presentable".

You didn't "sound black".

You didn't "act black".

You were "pretty for a black girl."

Whatever the fuck that means.

You knew that begging your parents to move elsewhere was not an option, waste of time, so you always knew that the moment you had the chance, you weren't gonna stick around for too long.

Going into high school at the end of '82, just shy of a year after moving into Hawkins, was how yours and Eddie's paths crossed, just barely.

Since you could practically count on one hand how many black families were in Hawkins's population, not knowing one another by name was near impossible.

You know Jeff by proxy.

Your parents knew each other, and you were the same age, so of course you knew each other.

You wouldn't call him a friend per se, but you were friendly enough to exchange quick greetings in passing.

Jeff was with three older kids when you passed him in the hall.

A chubby, curly haired, white boy, a pale brunette girl, and a slim, lanky kid who looked like he was trying to grow out a bad haircut, all of which were decked out in jean and leather.

The polite smile and wave he gave made the lanky boy to turn and see who Jeff was waving at.

As soon as you caught each other's eyes, his curious expression turned into a lovestruck one.

You didn't pay much attention to it, though.

"Who is that?"

"Oh, no one. She's just the daughter of some friends of my parents."

Since you were in separate grades, you didn't regularly cross paths with any of the people you saw with Jeff often, but you did end up having an elective class with the brunette girl.

It was a couple of weeks in when you were partnered up with her for a project.

"Veronica is my government name. Call me Ronnie."

During lunch, Ronnie mentioned to Jeff how adorable you were.

"You got to meet her?!"

Ronnie would then go on about how you were so nice and polite, but you were also extremely smart and sassy.

She got to witness your wit first hand when you made a sneaky comeback at someone who gave one of those stupid 'for a black girl' comments.

"I think Eddie is going to blow a fuse."

"You got to meet HER?!"

The boy was starstruck every time you would unknowingly pass him in the hall or when he saw you from across the cafeteria.

"Would you just go up and talk to her, numbnuts?" Ronnie would say as she smacked the back of his head when she caught him staring a bit too hard.

"I can't just 'go up' to her!"

"The fuck not?"

He'd reply with silence, not really knowing what answer to give.

You were too good for him? He'd have no chance? You'd dismiss him? Reject him? What would he even say?

"I wouldn't know what to say..."

"Maybe try, 'Hello'."

He spent the next four years pining over you from a distance.

Now, in your senior year, you were more excited than anything to get out of this shit hole.

The cute super super senior with the loud mouth, long hair, and less than stellar reputation had always caught your eye, but you both still had yet to actually say anything to each other. Paths never crossing further than beyond the hallway.

You never bothered to make a move on him.

You were convinced that you weren't his type, or anyone's type for that matter, especially not here.

But you're both seniors now.

Much to Eddie's surprise and delight, you now had classes together.

He never once liked being in high school for longer than necessary, but here he was, oddly thankful for being held back.

Your schedules are almost completely aligned, save for the fact that you had a couple honors classes.

For the first few days of your senior year, Eddie was a ball of anxiety every time you were around.

He sat either behind or beside you in the back of all your shared classes.

It wasn't until one fateful Tuesday, in the second week of that school year, that your pen ran out of ink, and you finally said your first words to him.

"Hey, do you have a pen I can barrow?"

You were turned around in your seat to look at him behind you. He was stuck for a few beats before he blinked away his shock.

"Uh, y-yeah. Here." He handed you the very pen he was using to doodle in his notebook instead of actually taking notes.

The small smile and the gentle brush of your fingers against his nearly made his heart stop on the spot.

He was absolutely gone.

It was in that moment that he realized he'd never properly heard your voice before.

He wanted to hear it again.

You even remembered/bothered to give him his pen back at the end of that class.

He spent every single one of his classes for the remainder of that day coming up with a full ass tactical plan to approach you.

Every day that passed, he for some fucking reason just couldn't find the right moment to put his plan in action.

It wasn't until a few weeks later when you threw his plan through a loop.

You showed up to a Hellfire meet just as they were all leaving out the drama room.

He heard your voice coming from outside once some of the freshman members walked out the door.

"Hey, Baby Bro! How'd it go? Have fun?"

Eddie eyes widened, and he stilled for a second before he dropped what he was doing to rush out the door.

He tried to play off his stumbling by leaning against the wall right outside the door.

"Oh, Hey! You're in this club too?"

"This is Eddie. He leads the club." Your little brother's curly haired friend, Dustin, clarified immediately.

Before Eddie could give Dustin a look to 'shut the fuck up before he ruined his shot', you raised your brows with somewhat of an impressed look on your face.

"Oh, so you're Eddie."

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him want to melt into the floor.

All the false confidence he once had completely depleted, and he was back at a loss for words. Thank God you didn't leave room for him to make a fool of himself.

"The boys talk so highly of you. Thank you for looking after them for a couple hours after school. See you tomorrow!"

He watched, awestruck, as you walked away with your brother and his friends.

"Y-Yeah, no problem!" He'd finally yell after you a you made it to the exit doors.

You turned to wave bye before fully exiting the building to the mostly vacant parking lot.

Eddie waved back weakly.

"See you tomorrow." He says to himself in the empty hallway, still waving even after you couldn't see him anymore.

A cheesy grin would grow on his face as he went back into the drama room to collect his DM stuff.

"Holy shit. You actually exchanged words!" Jeff would say.

"~See you tomorrow~" Gareth mocks, clasping his hands together, resting them on his cheek and batting his eyelashes.

Eddie glares at the younger drummer. "Shut up, asshole."

Early October is when he finally leaned forward to ask you a question.

"Hey, I don't really understand what's going on. Could you help me?"

There it was.

You accepted, falling right into his hands.

His plan was now officially in motion.

You were smart and nice. Of course, you would help tutor him.

Eddie knew that would work.

You were well aware of his academic status, or rather lack thereof.

You couldn't help but let that little 'I can fix him' part of your teenage brain take over.

You really wanted to help him pass and graduate, ESPECIALLY since he reached out to you for help.

You couldn't say no. wtf

You two had spent all of October studying together.

Even though he was distracted by you most of the time and always going off topic to get to know you, he actually was kind of learning something.

A win-win for him.

"Hey, so, uh, you know, Halloween is right around the corner, and, uh, there's a special rescreening of 'Alien' this weekend. Would you, uh, you know, if you're into it, would you like to go see- watch it, like, with me, I mean?"

The question came at the end of your recent study/tutoring session.

Over the last few weeks, you had shown nothing but kindness towards Eddie. You two even had conversations with one another out in the open, outside of the safe privacy of the library.

He finally had the courage to ask you out.

You hesitated.

"Oh, uh..."

Your apprehension was not for the reason he was thinking, but it was enough for his mind to start caving in on itself.

"I mean, I just want to show you my appreciation, you know, for all your help. There's no- no pressure at all. I get it if you don't wanna be seen with me too much. I won't blame you."

His response takes you aback.

"Hold on. That's not what I was trying to get across at all."

Your firm tone made his chest tighten with anxiety. If that wasn't it, what was it? Did you have plans already? Maybe with a boyfriend? Shit, why didn't Eddie make sure to get your current relationship status out of you before asking.

"It's just that, uh, I'm kind of a... wuss... with scary movies. The sci-fi part of it seems intriguing enough, but I heard that it was pretty scary... The Boys snuck the VHS during one of their movie nights a couple years ago. I just remember Lucas being on edge for weeks after watching it." You chuckled nervously.

Eddie chuckles, relieved by your answer.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be there to protect you from all the monsters." The use of his DM voice at the end goes straight to the pit of your stomach like hot coals.

You hold back a girlish giggle, not wanting to show how much that effected you.

"Okay, fine, but if I fail our test due to a lack of sleep, I'm blaming you."

After you agree to go on a date with him, he fully unleashes his inner flirt.

His surprising change in attitude towards you makes butterflies erupt within you.

His overt flirting brings out your sassy side as you two go back and forth.

That movie-dinner date was the first of many.

Eddie wasn't huge on physical PDA.

He was always super respectful and reserved in public, but he almost always made a show of you.

"There she is! The most beautiful woman to ever exist!"

"Look at her. A goddess among us mortals!"

"Here she comes! Make way for the queen!"

You eventually got used to his over the top antics, going from telling his to "shut up" with a shy grin to just embracing your new 'royalty status' with your head held high and a bright smile.

You'd been dating for months.

Your tutoring actually helped raise Eddie's grades, especially after you told him how much you wanted him to graduate with you this year.

Come spring, Lucas is now unsuccessfully splitting his time between Hellfire and basketball.

When Dustin and Mike bring in the third Sinclair into the drama room, Eddie can't help but cave quickly once she shows off her dnd knowledge.

Erica definitely gets her sass from you, though she's a lot more blunt with it.

Eddie can't help but form a huge soft spot for her, even after the game is over.

While Erica, Dustin, and Mike were waiting in your car to leave, Eddie stopped you.

"So, you know, we've been dating for quite a while now-"

"Five months and counting." You beamed.

Eddie grinned happily. So, you were keeping count.

"Yeah, soon enough it'll be six, then seven, then ten, then 12, then-"

"OK, OK" you giggled. Eddie's smile only got bigger.

"So, I was wondering..." That shy boy who could barely ask you on a first date returns, bringing a soft grin to your face. "Do you... Would do... I... Will you be my... my girlfriend?"

"Of course." You smiled without missing a beat.

"Really?!"

As the news sunk deeper and deeper, it became harder and harder for him to physically contain his excitement.

He jumped up and down, grabbing you by the shoulders to pull you into a hug, bouncing up and down with you in his arms.

Your shared laughter filled the empty parking lot of Hawkins High.

From that moment on, the word 'girlfriend' was used in place of your own name for months.

"I'm convinced you've forgotten my name."

"I could never forget such a thing, girlfriend~"

He introduced you to metal music.

You introduced him to leave in conditioner.

You two were high school sweethearts, ones that would last forever.

🥹🥹🥹

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #x black!reader #eddie munson swiss fics

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eddiediazenjoyer · 1 month ago

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can i speak. i think that eddie Catholic Guilt is hard to believe and dare i say. not real. for many reasons. one of them being Not All Latinos Have Catholic Guilt especially not in the way that white catholics conceptualize it. and TO ME it’s a bit of a cop out . and i don’t think we should believe eddie when he says that’s the reason for literally anything bc it’s a really convenient excuse for being insane and repressed but i just don’t think it’s true . and i think that something much more nuanced is afoot (aka a complex racial identity and relationship with expectation).

to me he was really like. barely raised catholic tbh. he was raised AROUND folk/cultural catholicism which ofc impacted how he was raised and his perspective. but this kind of catholicism is so different from institutionalized (and white) catholicism it's difficult to even compare the two. and i honestly don’t think that the catholicism is the main problem. like his parents just don’t strike me as being devout in the way that imparts guilt onto their children (they have fun OTHER ways to do this). i think they are traditional and crucially. catholic when it’s convenient and when it allows them an avenue for control (biggest example here is eddie getting pressured into getting married to the girl he impregnated as a teenager.) but to me. this stemmed from complex cultural traditions and beliefs. which catholicism is an easy simple explanation for . but isn’t really the root of the problem. it's a part of it ofc but honestly i think things are often ascribed solely to catholicism bc catholic guilt is a widely applicable perspective when it honestly doesn't make much sense. like i think that eddie being a mixed race mexican-american has more to do with anything than catholicism does. and again. these things are interwoven. but not in a way that it makes sense to blame capital c Catholicism for things where culture (and cultural catholicism) makes way more sense as an explanation

like ik that eddie talks about how he was raised going to mass every sunday etc etc. but even the way he says that he just... stopped... says so much. like the fact that he was even allowed to do that tells me that his parents honestly never really cared that much about that kind of devotion. and the way he talks about it really makes it sound to me like he was one of those kids that never really bought into it at all and so the institutionalized teachings of the church never really got to him. what did get to him however is the folk catholicism/mexican-american teachings of Right and Wrong (aka you get somebody pregnant you commit to them. you feel emotions you tamp them down in order to protect others etc.) and this is not necessarily Catholicism in it's classic conception.

i have no idea if this makes sense and it is really hard to explain how this interplay works if you haven't grown up in it but basically.... hegemonic constructions of catholicism are vastly different from the kind of "catholicism" that i think eddie was raised in. and bc of that i think that "catholic guilt" is a weak explanation for eddie's perspective and best and just. inaccurate at worst. and we should NEVERRRR listen to eddie when he gives too clean of an explanation for his repression. that man is a liar

#source: i SAY SO #really happy to be putting my mexican american studies major to work in this way #i just think that people often ascribe hegemonic institutionalized and WHITE views on catholicism to characters of color #and it just..... doesn't work #the complexities of mexican american catholicism are far deeper than the shallow view of 'catholic guilt' could ever begin to uncover #and i think that eddie's mexicanidad gets left out sooooo often when like. to me. you can't talk about eddie without it #and that it's a far more accurate and true to character way to discuss him than anything solely about religion #but then again i'm a mixed race mexican american too and think that me and eddie are soul bonded bc of this #so that's MY bias. but i do genuinely think that discussions around characters of color get flattened so white people can understand them #and i just think you can't ignore his identity. in ANY conversation but especially not this one #911 abc #911 #eddie diaz #and you know what yeah i do think that the whole marisol nun storyline was annoying.#like correct me if i'm wrong but has eddie literally ever mentioned catholicism with any sort of seriousness before that???#to me it kinda came off as them running out of ideas and being like oh eddie's mexican and so he must be catholic and have catholic guilt.#which is just..... boring and overdone work tbh. but maybe i'm wrong. but anyways i just don't think it's true #and it's just a convenient explanation for not wanting to have sex with a woman where the real explanation (being gay and being mexican) is #far more accurate

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curewhimsy · 1 month ago

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Touhou USAmerican AU update

Don’t ask how the characters all know each other, because I have nothing for now. But one idea I have floating around is that they’re all magical girls and/or involved with supernatural incidents and are a team who solves them.

I’m still working out the details of this AU and debating keeping ALL of the supernatural/magical aspects of the original characters/universe.

I also don’t know exactly how many characters I’ll include. But I might have my OC group Resonate in this AU as OCs.

The AU also takes place in Colorado, as suggested by @counterattacker.

Reimu

Early 20’s

Seems practical but really isn’t

Seems meek but really isn’t

She’s friendly to strangers but is different and more assertive around Marisa

Done with (Marisa’s) shit

Banters with Marisa

Marisa always drags her into a bunch of incidents

She’s the one who has to resolve the incidents

Actually very formidable in a fight

Has burnout

Likes to take it easy but can’t

Eats rice with every meal. Even stuff like pizza

College student who is overwhelmed by all her duties

Plays violin but isn’t really that good

Half-Latina

Trans woman

Bisexual

Practicing Shinto in the USA

Has a crush on Marisa…

She’s stuck with Marisa as her sidekick and they’re always together

Marisa

Early 20’s

Feral

Steals things a lot… or rather “borrows permanently”

One of the things she stole was Reimu’s heart

Owes Reimu a lot of money

Flirts around as a joke but secretly really would take a bullet for Reimu

Loves Reimu a lot but doesn’t express it candidly

Has an inferior complex and perceives Reimu as better than her

Obsessive

Boisterous

Likes pranks

Banned from Costco

Likes to scare people with her witch image

Loves Halloween

Gets into trouble a lot

Lesbian

Probably has ADHD

Reimu’s sidekick

Yukari

In her late 30’s

She’s a senior magical girl, mentor to Reimu and Marisa

Older sister type

Annoys Reimu

Doting but in an annoying way

Always says “when I was your age…”

Kind of like a (irresponsible) guardian to Reimu and Marisa

“Ara ara”

Mischievous

A bit like Princess Celestia but mixed with Eda from The Owl House

She’s the voice of reason for Yuuka

Cirno

Annoying kid

Precocious but also dumb

⑨ years old

Can’t do math

Tiny

Drives everyone insane

Annoying high pitched voice

Pretends to be an ice fairy, is actually somehow convincing

Loves shaved ice

Loves winter

A menace

Has an obsession with capturing and freezing frogs, but everyone else forbids her

Has stomped through Yuuka’s flowers before

Never seems to catch a cold. She thinks this is because she’s an ice fairy. It’s actually because idiots don’t catch colds.

Clownpiece

Another annoying kid

12 years old

Feral

Self-proclaimed fairy of hell

Edgy

Comes from a family of clowns

Draws cursed art

Probably has deviantart despite being too young

Likes wolves

Mixed-race (Native American, Japanese, White)

All her clothes seem to have the American flag on them

Her parents are patriotic and pick out all her clothes

Yuuka

Early 30’s

The “vengeful lady next door” who is just very overprotective of her flower garden

Known for having a beautiful and extravagant garden in her yard

She’s also a beekeeper

Kind of lonely but doesn’t admit it

Brutally honest

Makes children cry

Friends with Yukari

She acts soft around Yukari. She might have a crush on her

Patchouli

19 years old

Quiet and blunt girl who frequents the little town’s small library

Doesn’t show much expression

Hates her name

Done with life

Has read nearly all the books in the small library

Know-it-all

Knowledgeable about math, astronomy, chemistry, literature, and folklore

Friends with Alice

Nazrin

10 years old

Loves cheese

Innocent and a bit shy

Adventurous

Suwako

7 years old

Tiny even for her age

Energetic

Loves to go to the pond and play with the frogs

Often pretends to be a frog

Can’t swim

Half-Korean

Seems to be a “frog whisperer.” Frogs are somehow drawn to her

Again, she is ridiculously tiny

Wriggle

15 years old

Nobody knows her real name

Non-binary transmasc but still uses she/her

Loves cats but is allergic

Sakuya

Mid 20’s

Dependable but scary

Remilia and Flandre’s aunt and caretaker

Badass who can fence

Half-Japanese, half-French

Flandre

11 years old

Remilia’s younger sister

Feral edgy chaos girl

Vandalizes the school’s textbooks

Looks up to Marisa

Loves flan

Actually a really good pianist

French

Likes horror movies

Banned from three grocery store chains

Bites people

Remilia

13 years old

Flandre’s older sister

French

Kind of spoiled

Snobby

Thinks her sister is uncouth

Ojou-sama laugh (“ohoho!”)

Rinnosuke

27 years old

One of Reimu’s friends in college, seemingly always classmates with her

Older brother figure to Reimu

Usually quite chill and polite

Good at math

His hobby is JRPGs

Addicted to ramen

Lowkey a weeb (despite being Japanese)

He’s gay

He’s single because he “can never seem to find another single guy”

Alice

19 years old

British

Has a British accent

Doll collector

Shy

#touhou #reimu hakurei #marisa kirisame #yukari yakumo #cirno #clownpiece #yuuka kazami #patchouli knowledge #nazrin #suwako moriya #wriggle nightbug #sakuya izayoi #flandre scarlet #remilia scarlet #rinnosuke morichika #alice margatroid

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juniorfor2 · 4 months ago

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For all the racism that’s very obvious in the show, I really think one big one has been missed - C&H’s decision to make the Velaryon boys bastards, instead of Laenor’s sons by blood, simply because of their skin color.

Due to the writers’ decision to make the Velaryons black, but Jace, Luke, and Joffrey white, this was used to support the idea that they must be bastards. Rather than using hair color, only skin color is brought up as an issue (or at least that’s what’s obviously implied). Because the writers think that kids come out looking like a 50/50 mix of their parents. That if they aren’t exactly in the middle of Laenor and Rhaenyra’s skin color, then they can only be bastards.

But this just isn’t how real life works. Kids come out looking all sorts of ways, lighter or darker than both their parents, right in the middle, or only like one parent. My own mother is from Pakistan, but I came out looking exactly like my white, American father (except as a girl).

And that has consequences for a lot of people. Those who come out looking different from one parent can often experience difficulties as others refuse to see them as part of their group or culture. Biracial children are often forced to choose one race over the other, or are deliberately excluded from one group because they aren’t light or dark enough.

And the thing is, this issue is actually raised in the show. Vaemond actually gets the closest to the real life issue, when he says to Rhaenyra, “you wouldn’t know Velaryon blood if you saw it.” Because they are white, they are excluded from being Velaryon. They are viewed almost as weird colonizer-parallels, “stealing” from the only black family in the show, thereby erasing any racial culture the Velaryons currently have.

Even Alicent, despite not being part of the dispute, shows so much disgust towards the boys. They aren’t darker skinned, and so she views them as unworthy and unable to be part of the Velaryon family. It’s not even her fight, but she still is vitriolic towards them - and that’s how so many biracial people are actually perceived and treated in real life.

The issue of how biracial children are perceived should have been a fairly easy message to portray and resolve. We could have seen how Jace was ostracized and pushed away because of his looks, how much it hurt him for everyone to say he wasn’t Velaryon, even while Laenor raised him and viewed him as his son. We could have then seen how Jace eventually resolves this, realizing that it doesn’t matter what he looks like, because all that mattered was that Laenor was his father who loved him and raised him with Velaryon culture. That Corlys accepted him as well, despite the rumors.

But C&H, because they are both racist and mainly ignorant of how skin color works in real life, went the easy route and didn’t try to even find a single explanation for why the kids could be Laenor’s children by blood. I don’t need a complete reversal to make them undoubtedly Laenor’s, but some ambiguity would have been nice.

#it’s so frustrating how biracial people are seen and treated #no we’re not some 50/50 mix every time #if you saw me as a baby next to my mom & half-sister you would never think I was related to them #Jace Luke and Joff absolutely could have been Laenor’s children #unlikely? yes. impossible? no.#anti hotd #anti alicent hightower #anti team green #cause tg clearly has some racist tendencies #that they just disguise as concern for other families #hotd critical #hbo racism #HOTD racism #house of the dragon

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chroniclesofajewishteen · 3 months ago

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How my Jewish identity came to be:

I always thought my eye shape was a little weird.

I have a very large crease on the upper lid. I thought oh, that's kinda like east asian eyes. But my eyes look different.

I saw that there was a lot of under-eye puffyness. I thought oh, people use cucumbers to get rid of that. I must be tired. But it was mid-day. The puffyness never went away.

My friends have pretty wide eyes. I thought oh, that's strange. But my mom always told me that society likes big wide-eyed white women. But does that mean society doesn't like me? Does that mean I'm not white?

I had always been told I was white. Well, my mom always told me. My dad shrugged and said "It's complicated. But people will see you as white." I didn't understand why. I knew at some level that being Jewish was an ethnicity, that Jews are from Israel, and that Israel is in the Middle East, but when people saw me they thought I was white. Because I have pale skin and blue eyes.

I have blue eyes because my Dad has blue eyes. His Irish Dad has blue eyes. But my dad's Mom is Jewish. She speaks some Yiddish, and never puts up Christmas decorations, but I had no reason to think that was strange. I knew she gave us presents, even though she doesn't celebrate Christmas like my goy friends do.

We celebrate Christmas because both of my Jewish grandmothers get FOMO during the season. They didn't want to miss out. So when they were kids they would get a little present and say they celebrated it. When they married goyim they had a tree. Now my direct family has a tree.

My mom was told she was ethnically Jewish, but that all religion is dumb and the Quakers were probably onto something with all the acceptance and peace...etc. My dad was told "You are Jewish. Society will either see you as a rich white man or a sneaky brown man. You do not get to choose. The minute you say your grandfather was a man named Murray Goldstein, they will know. You do not get to choose, because society has chosen your race already and the left and the right will never agree on who is right." He never told me exactly this, but it was implied.

On certain tests and forms, they ask you for your race. It always said the same thing: Asian, Black, Native American, White, Mixed, and sometimes they said Pacific Islander. What did I put? My parents put white, but I always knew on some level that wasn't the full truth. I would write "Ashkenazi Jewish" at the bottom and let them decide.

Then October 7th happened. People on the streets said, "Go back to Poland". I was never Polish. My family lived in Ukraine. Did they want me to go back to Ukraine? There is a war there! I would not be safe. I don't have any relatives in Ukraine. My family left at the start of the 20th century. Who would I go to? Where would I go?

When October 7th happened, I thought the world would stand for Israel. I knew it was the Jewish homeland, and I had already been researching Birthright trips a few months before. On my favorite TV show, Black-ish the main character, Dre Johnson said "Jewish kids get to go to Israel, why can't my kid say the N-word?" in that horribly out-of-context quote, I knew it was my homeland. Why did these people say it wasn't?

My younger sister had a babysitter who was Palestinian. Let's call her Fatima. I didn't know that was an ethnicity until I met her. Her mom was a politician there. All Fatima was doing was saying "Get my mom out of Gaza. It's not safe for her." She knew I was Jewish, and she was always nice and supportive. I still follow her on Duolingo.

Fatima had a friend who was also one of my sister's babysitters. I'm going to call her Charlotte. Charlotte was a white British woman. She heavily supported the Pro-Palestine cause. She marched in protests and boycotted businesses. She was a goy, and we both knew that. Fatima never protested and was always happy to buy from Starbucks and other Zionist businesses. Charlotte would always listen to me explain B'nai Mitzvahs, but it was clear I was the only Jewish person she knew.

I don't say these things to say that Palestinians can't support the cause, I'm saying this because Fatima didn't, and her white friend did. The fact that Fatima was brown and trying to finish her PhD definitely played into it.

I read Chaim Potok's The Chosen. Its end plot was about the creation of the modern state of Israel. In the end, the characters agreed that after the Holocaust, we deserve to call the land of our ancestors our own. My family agreed with that.

At the time I was really into Pinterest. More specifically, Tumblr screenshots on Pinterest (definitely influenced my decision to come here). After a while, I got more pins on my dash saying "All Zionists are evil. Come to the good side!" That definitely sounded like a cult, so I looked more into it. I saw a lot of people saying "Zionism is killing Palestinians", but I also saw people saying "The official Jewish definition of Zionism is the belief that Israel should exist. 80% of Jews want Israel to exist." The comments were either "Thank you! This is what I have been saying for months!" or "fuck you zionist rat you are killing Palestinians." I looked into it on more trustworthy websites. They usually agreed that it just meant wanting Israel to exist. They also said that Khanisim is the belief that Palestinians must die for Israel to exist. I didn't like that idea. In my Pinterest bio, I put yellow ribbons to support the hostages. I started getting hate messages.

I am here now, and from my bio and previous posts, you can assume my stance on the situation. This post started with me complaining about my eyes and to give you an epilogue, it was today I realized they were Jewish eyes. I love them and would never change them for the world.

If you have any questions regarding this post or me in general you can privately message me. I am a minor though, so don't be creepy. Have a good day!

Also: my other blog is @jewishbiancadiangelo. It's mostly Percy Jackson stuff.

#jewish #jumblr #pro israel #i stand with israel #jewish history #i stand with palestine #judaism #bring them home #free palestine from hamas #bringthemhomenow #israblr #free palestine #zionist #Palestine

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neechees · 1 year ago

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Do you have any more context for the whole thing happening with Buddy Sainte Marie rn? I mean as a cree person, does your community have suspicions about her? I’m from way out west, and I’ve not heard anything, and I was wondering if the cbc has a foot to stand on at all

Absolutely not, no suspicions. Ask some Crees around Saskatchewan & there'll be some who can tell you they know her family (both her biological & adopted Cree family) & even some that are related to her, in Alberta too. The only Crees that would be believing Keeler at all are, like my Nîtisân said, the facebook ndns who will claim Johnny Depp & Cher based on nothing but then believe Keeler's baseless claims. The type who have no critical thinking & have nothing better to do with their day.

Keeler's claims are baseless for a number of reasons & shows how fucking ignorant and stupid she is, because her basis for how Buffy is a pretendian is that 1. She was adopted, 2. She couldn't have been a victim of the 60s scoop because she was born in the 1940's (& this is why she was adopted), & 3. Her actual birth certificate isn't recorded. But I'm gunna debunk all those right now without google because

The 60s scoop does not refer to exclusively kidnappings of Native children ONLY in the 1960's, it also goes as far up to the 80s formally (but this literally continued), and goes back years before that too, the government was doing this to Native kids years before the 1960s, but the 1960s is just when a lot of them happened & there was a spike

Buffy went BACK to a different Cree community & was adopted by another Cree family formally & started reconnecting more to her Cree culture again. To Crees, if you're adopted by a Cree, especially if you start taking part in the culture by the will of your parents, you are Cree. Even if she was "White" or any other ethnicity to begin with & she was adopted like this, she would still be Cree by our (& many other tribes') standards.

Afaik its just her birth certificate that isn't documented, but other documentation exists that shows Buffy is Cree. Lots of Cree people don't actually have proper documentation for a lot of things, even today, for a number of different reasons, but it was especially popular back then. I think even my grandfather didn't have a lot of proper documents because he literally couldn't write.

Additionally, Buffy just SHOWS she's Cree. She has a Cree accent, she LOOKS Cree, and she knows Cree things even a dedicated "pretendian" wouldn't know. I've heard her talk about things like Michif folk tales & oral history that even I didn't know existed, I know she speaks Cree, she knows about Cree culture, things like that. Also like I said earlier, she literally knows what reserve she came from originally and who her parents were before she was kidnapped & she's talked about it extensively, so its not like the usual jig of a pretendian randomly claiming Native ancestry with no basis, her claims are easily provable by talking to other Crees who know her family.

But of course, Keeler is the type of person to not recognize these at all, because shes the fuckin Blood Quantum vampire police who only thinks about you as Native if you have some kind of documentation that youre enrolled in a federally recognized U.S tribe, you're not mixed race, and you "look" Native. Everyone else in her mind is "faking" & a "pretendian". Keeler is an ignorant, xenophobic, racist bully who seems to only call women & twospirit people (particularly successful ones) "pretendians" so of COURSE She'd go after Buffy.

Keeler has also literally claimed that documented, enrolled, Native looking ndns are "pretendians", & in one case she claimed that she had "contacted" the (iirc) Cherokee Nation to say that THEY said that this one person she was claiming was a "pretendian" allegedly wasn't enrolled, only for the Cherokee Nation to call her out for lying & that this person WAS actually enrolled in a legitimate Nation. Later they had to keep telling her to fuck off bc she kept using them to lie about legitimately enrolled people.

So no, there's no basis to Keeler's claims bc shes a fucking idiot American who doesn't know shit about Crees or even how Canadian shit works. Any sensible Cree person will tell you Buffy is Cree, & shes our Kohkum.

#merry-harlowe #i dont have any other details atm but even from this keeler is bullshit

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years ago

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last christmas.

ln x fem!reader

hello. i got whamageddoned early this year and i’m okay with it bc ‘last christmas’ is a bop. felt inspired to write some sad shit. mixed feelings on this one but we move - no smut for once (who am i?). not much else to say really. lemme know what you think and happy holidays <3

warnings: ANGST! language, alcohol, bad boyfriend behaviour

3.8k words

based loosely on ‘last christmas’ by wham! (normal text = present) (bold & italics = song lyrics) (italics = flashback)

a crowded room, friends with tired eyes

i’m hiding from you and your soul of ice

it had to be one of the coldest winters to date, utterly freezing. the chill had sunk into your bones in early november and you hadn’t been able to shake it since. it was bitter, bordering on painful, left you shaking, but it didn’t compare to the plummeting temperature in the room when he walked in.

it was christmas eve and old traditions were dying hard. the norris household had always been decorated beautifully, warm and cosy and inviting, a highlight of your childhood. cisca and adam knew how to throw a party, your parents and your brothers attending their annual christmas parties since the very first one. your parents were close with the norris’s, as were you, sort of. well, you used to be.

you’d known lando since you were seven years old, when you’d weakly kicked his kart with all the strength you had. he’d beaten you in a race and his smug little face had pissed you off more than the loss. he’d just stood there, grimacing and narrowing his eyes in search of damage. there wasn’t any.

disdain grew into a close friendship as you both continued to compete, weekends spent dotted about the english countryside, moving from track to track. you gave it up, losing interest and seeing a different path for yourself. he never gave up and that’s why he was where he was now, sitting pretty in f1, and not with you.

things used to be fine. you stopped karting and he didn’t, but nothing changed. he was still your best friend and you were still his, but you were just kids. what did you know? nothing, apparently, because as the years went on and life got more complicated, the worst happened. feelings.

it was hard to judge who fell first, but you both fell, tumbling uncontrollably off the cliff and into the rocks below. it was torturous, your late teenage years spent wallowing in internalised angst and self pity, sharing longing glances that you both ignored afterwards.

looking back, it was better that way. the pain had been worth it, because at least you had him in your life. now, you had nothing, while the whole world and the prettiest woman you’d ever seen seemed to rest in the palm of his hand.

it felt a bit silly to be stood there watching him walk in, tugging the sleeve of your tight red dress anxiously. he looked so good that you felt a bit sick, suddenly flushed. the crisp, white dress shirt he wore seemed to wrap around his lean body perfectly, his tanned skin glowing. and her. god, her. she was perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world, or that’s how it felt in the moment, her hand wrapped around his bicep. they were the centre of attention, the happy couple, perfect together. you’d seen her on instagram, shamelessly stalking her page, pictures of them together in dubai, on yachts, in the paddock, making you cry alone in your apartment a million miles away. what the fuck were you doing here?

you turned your back to them quickly, the glass of red wine in your hand being quickly raised to your lips. it had been made for sipping, and so you gagged as you gulped it down in mouthfuls. you ignored the way your eyes stung and took a deep breath, searching for anyone in the crowd that would be able to distract you.

your parents were chatting away with lando’s and the last thing you needed was a grilling on romantic partners and your job from that group, especially since they all knew what you’d turned down last year. your brothers were talking animatedly with oli and savannah, little mila perched on your brothers hip. you wondered why no one could ever focus on his love life instead, he was clearly better suited to having one, the little girl taking to him so naturally. you quickly realised you were out of lifelines, not fancying striking up conversation with a stranger. you knew that you shouldn’t have come, avidly against attending until your mother practically dragged you kicking and screaming. you should have stayed in london, cold and alone and wallowing, because nothing could have been worse than this.

between shaky breaths, you made it to the drinks table, abandoning the stained wineglass in exchange of some far too expensive champagne, seeking comfort in the fact that it would do the job. you felt a familiar presence beside you, tensing up as you said a prayer. anyone but him, you begged. i’ll take her over him, anything. just not him. your shoulders slumped as you relaxed, the sight of max fewtrell doing everything to ease you. as soon as you clocked the sympathy in his eyes, you wondered if his arrival was the worst of them all.

“hey, you.” he spoke fondly, ruffling your hair.

“don’t be a prick, max.” you mumbled, smoothing out the mess he’d made. it didn’t matter really, there was no one here to look good for.

“someone’s in a mood.” he teased, opening his arms for a hug. you glared at him for a second before succumbing, having missed your friend.

max looked tired, the drive from london wearing him out. he was busy these days, everyone seemed to be. you were too, but it was different; you were miserable. you asked him how he’d been, watching as he spoke happily. new opportunities, new girlfriend, new scenery. you couldn’t even be jealous of him, because you knew that he deserved a bit of happiness.

“what about you? how’s it, uh, going?” his head tilted, the returns of that stupid sympathetic look dimming the spark in his eyes. you shrugged in response.

“oh, you know me. i’m muddling through.” you brushed the question off. “being back home is-“

“awful?” he cut you off, deadpan. you scoffed out a laugh. max always knew.

“you know how it is.” you smiled sadly, breaking eye contact.

“have you spoken to him?” max’s voice was gentle, but inquisitive nonetheless. you shook your head so strongly that you could practically feel your brain rattling around. “you should, you know. he misses you.”

you almost fell off your high heels at the laugh you let out, full body shaking with incredulity at max’s statement. he looked borderline uncomfortable as he plastered on a fake smile, as to not make you look quite so peculiar when people turned to see what was so funny.

“are you having a fucking laugh?” you gasped out, voice laced with the unhinged rage that you tried so hard to hide from everyone else.

“you and i both know i’m not.” max was firm, eyebrow raised. “you know how bad last year hurt him. it didn’t need to be like this.” max murmured, and suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. it felt like you were being told off. maybe you deserved it.

“i did what i had to do. for both our sakes.” you reasoned, hating how desperate you sounded. desperate to prove that you’d made the right decision, to prove everyone else wrong.

max turned his back, opting to stand beside you instead of before you, the both of you now looking out across the room, instead of at each other. there they were, her pressed against his chest, laughing together as they danced. you felt bile rising in the back of your throat.

“and how’s that working out for you?” max’s question sent you straight back to hell.

a face on a lover with a fire in his heart

a man under cover, but you tore me apart

lando couldn’t help but stare, the gorgeous green dress you were wearing doing nothing to ease his heart rate as he watched you from across the room. you’d been driving him insane since he was fifteen, and at twenty one, the man could barely breathe in your presence.

you’d been there in abu dhabi, watched him finish off his best season yet, wrapping him a hug when the race didn’t exactly go his way and affirming that you’d never been so proud of him. he knew he was in love with you, but in that moment, he knew he had to tell you, because your pride in him was what made it all seem real. the years fighting for a place, the blood, sweat and tears, the different countries that kept you both apart. you made every accomplishment seem real, because your affection was what he craved more than anything at all.

he gave you as much of himself as he could when he was home, often failing to coax you out to attend races, so when christmas eve rolled around, he knew he had to take the biggest risk of his life so far. liquid courage seemed effective, so the champagne in his glass quickly disappeared, even though the taste made him ill. it was a small price to pay to be able to finally, finally tell you that all of his lucky stars resided in your eyes.

the first problem arose when he couldn’t stop throwing back glasses of champagne. his palms were sweating, anxiety wracking him and all his nerves, the glass being raised to his lips all too easily. the second problem arose when he couldn’t actually see you anymore, eyes scanning the room in panic. the panic overtook any other sense of fear that he felt; he had to find you. the third problem arose when he eventually did.

you were sat in the back garden on the patio, giggling to yourself, as wasted as he was. you smiled goofily when you saw him watching, arms outstretched. he moved to sit beside you in the cold air, and you leaned into him instantly. he froze, thawing out as soon as you looked up at him. all too easily, his arm was around your shoulder, keeping you close, warm.

“what are you laughing about, hmm?” lando asked, words sloshing together, subtlety enough that you didn’t notice. you let out another giggle in response.

“max gave me this. said we should,” you paused briefly, as if you were trying to carefully consider your words, your inebriation getting in the way. “said we should use it.” you pursed your lips, doe eyes boring into his. lando gulped.

twirling between your fingers was a sprig of mistletoe. max is a fucking bastard, lando thought. he stared down at your hands, watching the way you dropped the plant into your lap.

“and what did you tell him?” lando murmured, meeting your eyes again. his eyes were glossy, just like yours were, and he found himself strangely comfortable, at ease. more at ease than he’d been in years.

“told him that you probably don’t want to kiss me underneath the mistletoe.” your smile faltered ever so slightly but you kept up your teasing facade. he knew he had to go for it, now or never.

“you’re right, i don’t.” lando started, watching your eyebrows narrow, a flash of hurt striking your features that was invisible to the untrained eye. way to be blunt. “i don’t want our first kiss to be part of some tacky christmas tradition.”

he dipped his forehead down against yours, the alcohol leading the way as he waited for you to process his words, your lips parting in an ‘oh’ as it dawned on you.

“lando-“ you sounded panicked. he ignored it.

“can i?” he whispered, begging.

you broke free from under his arm, standing to your feet, wobbling as you scurried across the patio to create some distance.

“you can’t just- lando, we can’t. you can’t do that to me.” you were flustered, genuinely distraught.

“do what? let you know how i feel about you?” he tried to mask his the hurt in his voice but it was impossible.

“no. no! you can’t do that.”

“and why not? why can’t i?”

“because it’s not fair!”

once bitten, and twice shy

i keep my distance, but you still catch my eye

“because it’s not fair!”

your words from last year stabbed him through the heart as he walked in the room. her tight grip on his arm did nothing to stop his eyes from finding you instantly in the crowded room. he told himself that he hated you, sometimes, just to make it easier. it wasn’t true, no matter how much he wished it was, a fact made glaringly clear by the way his eyes hooked onto you in that dangerous red dress. how dare you turn up here like that? how dare you make him think about you when he was here with her?

lando was certain that you didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘fair’.

it was like a sickness, the way he constantly had an eye on you all evening. it was bittersweet, having you here. he was furious that you’d dare to come, but also the sight of you, a whole year on, seemed to take the weight off of his chest.

he watched you talk to max, curiosity taking over, but he barely had time to process the sight, a hand slipping into his.

“dance with me, baby.” he couldn’t say no to her, so he pulled her close and went along with it. he didn’t let you out of his sight, watching you from the corner of his eye as he swayed with her.

lando could feel your eyes on him, burning holes in his relationship. he felt undeniably uncomfortable, fake smile on his face while she whispered in his ear. the guilt wracked him. she’d been a distraction, a welcome one, and now it was serious. too serious. but at least it was easy, and he felt like he deserved easy, after what you’d put him through.

he didn’t get to watch you for long, your red dress trailing behind you as you stormed away from max, disappearing from lando’s view, empty glass discarded.

lando dropped her hands.

you hunched over the sink, letting the sobs ricochet off the walls. you’d tried to be quiet, breathe your way through it, but that seemed futile and you just let the tears take over, numbing you.

max was right. how was this working out for you? it wasn’t, not one bit. you had nothing, no one, and lando had it all, with someone that wasn’t you. you couldn’t blame him for moving on from you, you couldn’t blame him for your unhappiness, not when it was your own doing. you could have had everything with him that she did, and you’d thrown it down the drain.

a long, hard look in the mirror told you that your makeup was somewhat still in tact, the tears finally agreeing to a ceasefire. you were smart to have worn waterproof mascara, you knew it would come in handy. you ran your fingers through your hair, tidying yourself up, hands dragging down your sides to smooth out your dress. once you were sure you didn’t look like a train wreck, you took a deep breath, unlocking the door and peering into the hallway. you wished you’d stayed weeping in the small room.

there she fucking was. her.

her eyes locked on yours in the empty corridor, anxiety pooling in the pit of your stomach. her face softened, an audible gulp signalling from the other woman. except she wasn’t the other woman, she was his only woman.

“i’m sorry, i can find another bathroom.” she murmured, her voice sugar and spice, angelic. she seemed nice. for fuck sake.

there was no way she didn’t know who you were, the way she seemed on edge, fiddling with the silver bracelet on her wrist. i bet he gave her that. you shook your head of the thought, stepping out into the hallway.

“oh, no, no. that’s fine, uh, sorry, here, um, i’ll just go.” you rambled, heels clacking awkwardly on the hardwood floor as you floundered your escape.

“wait! um, i hope that this isn’t hard for you.” she was sincere, so, so sincere, and it made you sick. why couldn’t she be the bitch you’d painted her out to be in your head?

“does he make you happy? is he happy?” you rushed the words out, embarrassed. say no. say no!

she just looked at you, head tilted. more fucking sympathy. it told you everything you needed to know. you nodded your head in forced understanding and turned on your heel.

now i know what a fool i’ve been,

but if you kiss me now i know you’d fool me again

“thought i might find you here.” he sounded the same. his voice warmed you up, but the deja vu hit and suddenly you were ice cold again. you were back on that damn patio and he’d found you once again.

“well, here i am.” you replied, sinking into the silence. you wrung your hands nervously, avoiding eye contact.

“didn’t think you’d come.” he was blunt, straightforward. it was better like that.

“you and me, both.” you laughed humourlessly, watching the way his shoulders slumped.

“how are you?” he asked softly, awkwardly. “you look beautiful.” he blurted.

“oh, just fantastic. heard you tried to grow a beard.” you bit back, as sarcastic as ever, hoping that he couldn’t see the blush spreading across your cheeks. it was nostalgic for him, and he would have smiled if it wasn’t for the sadness in your voice.

he couldn’t help but scoff, and you finally met his eyes at the sound, your own narrowing.

“if you’ve got something to say, then say it, lando.”

“it didn’t need to be like this.”

“don’t say that when your girlfriends on the other side of that wall.” you stood from the bench, gesturing at the house.

“it’s true, though. you know it is.” he didn’t take his eyes off of you, his entire focus honed in on you. you deserved it, this onslaught from him. the wound you’d caused clearly hadn’t healed.

“of course i do. it’s all my fault, i know it is.” you spoke desperately, voice breaking, laced with shame.

“do you miss me?” he stepped towards you, closing in.

“do you miss me?” you echoed. both questions were equally as unfair.

“i try not to. every day. but i know i shouldn’t, it’s pathetic.” his voice was raw with emotion, the very same way it had been last year, and your heart thudded inside its cage.

“why is it pathetic?” you whispered. he was close enough to hear you perfectly, now. your breath hitched.

“because you didn’t want me.”

“it’s not fair?” lando felt his eyebrows furrow, confused. what wasn’t fair?

“no it’s not.” you said quietly, voice wavering.

“what? what’s not fair?” he was confused, the alcohol and your caginess being a deadly combination.

“you being gone, me being here. c’mon, lando, it wouldn’t work.” you explained, eyes welling up with tears as you spoke. he had never imagined this conversation going so horribly wrong. he’d replayed what this moment would be like over and over and over again, and now that it was here, it was gut wrenching. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“yes it could. if you want me, this, it could work.” he reasoned. he was firm, this was his only chance. he had to get you to listen to him.

you were quiet, unmoving in your spot across from him. he took another risk. what more was there to lose at this point? he closed the gap between you both slowly, inching closer and closer until your toes touched, and your chests bumped with every breath.

“stop me. if you don’t want me to do this, then stop me.” lando was clear, searching your eyes for any hesitation. your soft nod was enough to convince him to close the gap.

kissing you was relief. it was getting out of the car after a long race, coming home, winning a round of golf. it was sunshine, ethereal, something he’d happily do for the rest of his life. you kissed him back with the same enthusiasm, your hands in his hair, raking through the soft strands. one of his cupped your jaw, deepening the kiss, while the other rested comfortably on your waist.

your hands slid from his hair down his neck and to his chest. he sighed in content, lost in you, until a soft force pressed against his chest. you’d broken away, stumbling backwards, away from him.

“lando…”

“don’t do it.” he looked down, feeling his own eyes begin to water. he’d blame it on the bitter, bitter cold.

“it won’t work. i don’t,” you inhaled shakily. “i don’t want this.”

“you don’t want me?” lando practically whimpered, the same way a puppy would if you kicked it.

“i don’t want this.”

now I've found a real love

you'll never fool me again

“go back inside. go on. go back to her.” it had started to snow, frozen rain falling in chilling globs.

“is that what you really want?”

“god, lando. no. are you happy now? no, i don’t want that. i don’t want to watch you walk away. it fucking hurts.” you were crying now, the tears flowing freely.

“then don’t let me.” he looked like he would cry too, and you wouldn’t blame him. your entire relationship had built up to this moment.

“this is ridiculous. you’re with her. and i can’t watch you leave me every week. call me selfish but i can’t. i won’t.”

“then come with me. you could have always just come with me!” his voice was raised now, getting progressively higher in his aggravation.

“and uproot everything, my whole life, to follow you? lando, you don’t get it. i’ll hate you if i have to leave my life behind, and i can’t face that.”

“what do you want from me? i’ve given you options, i’ve told you what i want, something i know you want too, and yet you continue with this deflective bullshit.”

“just go back inside.” you were prepared to get on your hands and knees and beg him to go.

“i’m not doing this again. i’m not having this conversation with you ever again.” his eyes began to water and you squeezed your eyes shut. he looked broken, disheveled, pristine shirt wrinkled.

“good.” it came out emotionless.

“do us both a favour and don’t come next year.”

and with that, he left, just like you’d begged him to, your body turning into ice, veins burning as you froze. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he walked away, forever, as the snow buried you in his back garden.

you grieved him, right there, stood in the very spot that he’d kissed you the year prior. you’d never really be gone and neither would he, too intertwined and hopeless. you gasped out a sob, a cry of heartbreak, your very own christmas carol ringing out into the darkness.

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg

(i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed for my taglist <3)

#lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #f1 driver x you #f1 fics #lando norris imagine #lando norris oneshot

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