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rafeandonlyrafe · 8 months ago

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tee time

words: 1.5k

warnings: really really overly fluffy, lots of golf talk that idk if its correct yall im not a golfer, rafe squeezes her butt but its not a sexual fic :), lots of kisses omfgggggg these bitches in LOVE (this is a really boring fic im sorry)

“does this look golf-y enough?” you ask rafe as you pout in the mirror, adjusting your skirt again, feeling like your tennis shoes are out of place when you'd usually be wearing heels or sandals.

“baby, we are just playing for fun. you look cute.” rafe says, glancing at his watch.

“should i do my hair differently? pigtails maybe?” you question, twisting your ponytail around your hand.

“baby…” rafe sighs.

“okay, okay.” you raise your hands up. “im done. sorry.” you giggle as you turn to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, having to bend down to where he's sat on the edge of the bed.

“it's okay, you're excited.” rafe says softly, reaching around you to grab the back of your thighs, fingers moving up to your skirt, squeezing your ass.

“i am excited.” you gleam at him. “me and bianca went to putt putt the other day to practice.”

“you're gonna do great, baby.” rafe gives your ass another squeeze before standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the door.

you've been wanting rafe to take you golfing ever since you started your relationship, but usually he'd already have plans with topper or his other country club friends, and you didn't want to intrude.

when rafe offered the other day to let you putt for him, you jumped at the chance.

“im not gonna like, ruin your average right?” you ask as rafe pulls into a parking spot.

“no, baby.” rafe laughs softly. “don't worry.”

“okay.” you smile as he gets out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for you. nobody would ever guess that rafe would be a sweet and caring boyfriend, but he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, and treats you better than you could have ever imagined.

he takes your hand in his as he leads you towards the golf cart, frowning when he realizes you're squinting in the sunlight.

“stay here.” rafe says, allowing you to sit down on his family cart, his clubs already loaded onto the back.

“okay.” you watch as he goes to the truck, jogging to get back to you as he hands you a pair of sunglasses.

“whose are these?” you ask. they look like your style, but you're certain this isn't a pair you own.

“i saw them one day at the mall and thought you'd like them so i bought them.” rafe shrugs. “figured i could keep them in the truck in case you ever forgot yours.”

“raaaafe.” you coo out, pulling him in for a kiss, which he happily accepts.

“ill let you drive once we get further out on the course.” rafe says, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the cart on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, willing to drive with just one hand even though it was harder, needing you close to him as you press your side against his.

rafe pulls up to the first tee, waiting for a moment to feel the wind on his face before he turns to look at you, noting the way your ponytail is being blown slightly eastward.

“give me a good luck kiss for this drive, baby.” rafe says.

you pucker your lips and press a smack against his lips before he grabs a club.

you let out a cheer when rafe hits the ball, but honestly you lost sight of it in the air and even if you watched the whole way, you wouldn't have known if it was good or bad.

“yes.” rafe pumps his fist. “need you out here more often, my good luck charm.” rafe climbs back into the golf cart, taking off towards where his ball landed.

“gonna land this on the green for you, baby.” rafe says with a confident smile, and he does indeed get the ball pretty close to the hole.

you're not sure if cheering is generally accepted on the golf course, but you can't help but hype your man up.

“alright.” rafe pulls the cart to a stop near the ball. “it's on you, princess.”

you step out of the cart, looking at your options before grabbing what you assume is the putter, only because it looks similar to clubs used for mini golf.

“if you don't make it the first time, that's okay.” rafe says, removing the flag from the hole. “i won't be mad.”

“mkay.” you look at the distance to the hole, no silly obstacles in the way like there was in your practice.

you give it the ball a tap, frowning with disappointment when it stops rolling only a foot away from the hole.

“that was actually so good!” rafe says, a smile on his face. “just a little more power and it would have been in for sure.”

you nod, taking a breath before lining up your next shot, letting out a scream and jump in the air as the ball falls into the hole.

“that's par, baby!” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, twirling you around.

“oh my god, we crushed that!” you cheer.

rafe sets you down carefully, but not before pressing a kiss against your lips.

“wanna drive us to the next tee?” he asks, laughing when you enthusiastically nod. rafe drives you literally everywhere, so you haven't been behind the wheel of anything in months.

rafe retrieves the ball and places the flag back in the hole before getting into the passenger side, a smile on his face as you stick your tongue barely out between your lips in concentration.

rafe loves the look on your face so much that he insists you drive for the rest of the holes. you're tired by the time you reach the last hole, but don't wanna disappoint rafe by not putting.

“you okay, princess?” rafe asks, running his hand over your ponytail, smoothing it down comfortingly.

“mhm.” you nod, but rafe can see that you're getting sleepy, no doubt ready to go home and take a nap.

“how about we do this putt together, yeah?” he asks.

“yes, please.” you pout out your lower lip, rafe leaning forward to capture it between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing and kissing you.

rafe stands, moving slowly as you get yourself in position before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to grip onto the stick over your hands. he controls the swing and you watch, your back pressed up against his chest, as it falls into the hole.

“perfect job, baby.” rafe says, snuggling into your shoulder, giving your neck a quick kiss before allowing you to go back to sitting on the cart. you slide over to the passenger seat as rafe returns.

he chuckles gently before driving you back towards the clubhouse, thumb gently stroking against your upper arm as you lean against him, tucked into his side.

“someone is sleepy.” rafe says.

you let out a yawn. “it's not my fault you like to golf early in the day. why can't tee time be after like noon or something?”

“i usually golf at this time because you're still asleep and i don't like to be away from you.” rafe says, parking the cart and leaving it to be put properly away by the workers, needing to get you back home and in bed.

the sun has been covered by clouds, so when you climb back into rafes truck, you take your sunglasses off and place them in the center console for next time you forget yours.

you struggle to keep your eyes open for the short drive back to tanneyhill, not wanting to fall asleep in the truck. you know rafe will drive around aimlessly to not disturb your nap, even if he's tired himself. one time he drove around for an entire night just because he said you looked so peaceful sleeping he couldn't bare to move you.

“home, darling.” rafe says, yours eyes fluttering open, not having gone fully asleep yet but the soothing driving by rafe and hum of the engine had your eyelids drooping.

rafe carries you inside and up the stairs, getting out a pair of pajamas for you to change into despite it being midday.

“how long do you expect me to nap for?” you giggle, changing quickly with the last bit of energy you have left.

you sit down on the bed, knowing you should take your ponytail out and brush through your hair, but your arms don't feel like lifting.

you don't even need to ask rafe before he's moving, carefully taking out your elastic before grabbing the brush off your vanity that he set up in his room not long after you started dating.

he brushes gently through your hair, getting out any tangles that accumulated throughout the golf trip.

you crawl up the bed as rafe changes into a pair of sweatpants, going without a shirt as he sees your eyes closing, struggling to stay awake until he's in next to you.

you snuggle instantly into his chest the second hes underneath the covers, sighing happily when you feel his warmth.

“goodnight, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”

with your last waking moment, you manage to mutter those three words back to him.

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theundercoversquid · 7 months ago

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Of Red Cheeks and Red Race Suits

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x F!Reader

Request: hello, i was wondering if i could make an imagine with mick shumacher (we don't have enough lol)

In which the reader is a super badass pilot and Mick gets all shy because he doesn't know how to act with her and asks for help from the other pilots like Seb and Ocon to be badass only he gets all clumsy trying and in reality she being all cute and kind

A/N: This is set in a semi-made-up year (sort of based on the 2022 season, but with Ferrair doing better/actually being capable) with Mick in the Haas (but they treat him better), and the reader is in Ferrari with Charles Leclerc, but Charles joined after her, so she raced with Seb! (I was going to put them in Merc, but I figured since Mick is now a reserve driver that it would be weird)

Warnings:

Masterlist

Leaping out of your car, you ran, throwing yourself into the seething mass of red that was your team. They hollered, cheering your name as they reached out to touch you.

You had just won the Bahrain Grand Prix, and you were leading the drivers standing. You were on top of the world.

Eventually, though, you had to part from your jubilant team. Instead of having to get weighed and do interviews before you could progress to the podium ceremony, you were on cloud nine!

As you walked over to the weighing scale, you could see a familiar flash of Green heading towards you!

"Seb", You called joyously. Throwing yourself into his awaiting arms.

"There's my little prancing horse." Seb prasied, squeezing you gently. "I told you that you were built for great things. And I was right. Look at you leading the championship standings!"

"I know, I can't believe it!" You beamed. Smiling up at your mentor and track Dad.

It was only then that you spotted the person hovering awkwardly off to the side.

"Hey, Mick." You greeted, beaming at the other German driver. "Congrats on P11. I know you will get points next time."

"Thanks, I uh... Congrats on winning." Mick stammered out. His cheeks flushed a red to rival your race suit—not that you noticed.

"Thanks," you grinned. Before you were swept up in more post-race celebrations, and dragged off to the podoim.

Oblivious to Seb elbowing a still blushing Mick in the ribs. A knowing smile on his face.

Strutting into the Australian paddock, you ignored all the cameras flashing at you as they all clamoured to get a photo of your paddock outfit; it being Thursday, you were only just getting started. But they did not care about that.

Thankfully, the further in you got, the more they left you alone. They were satisfied that they would have a good shot as they moved into the next driver to enter.

But you didn't care for their flashing lights.

As you continued in, you could see Estaben and Mick sitting outside, enjoying the Astrualina warmth before they had to begin their preparations for the media.

Smiling at the pair, you waved at them as you carried on. Oblivious to the red cheeks that you had left in your wake.

"Dieu, I knew you had a crush, but I didn't realise it was that bad!" Esteban laughed, looking at Mick's raging cheeks.

"Shush." Mick shushed frantically. Worried that somehow, you may hear the Frenchman teasing.

"What have you done to the poor man?" Lance questioned as he pulled out a chair to join the duo.

"Oh, well, a certain Ferrari driver just happened to walk past," Estaben explained in a conspiring whisper.

"Oh!" Lance laughed. "Yeah, that would explain it."

Mick just whined at his friend's teasing. His head flopping down to land on the table.

"I'm doomed."

"No, you're not." Lance Stroll assured him.

"Your Mick Schumacher, the great Haas F1 driver." Esteban cheered him on.

"And they drive for Ferrari and are leading the championship standings." Mick reminded them.

"Oh, yeah," Estaban said. "Maybe you should lower your expectations then."

"Estaban!" Lance admonished. Waking him on the arm.

"I'm joking, I'm joking." Esteban laughed. His arms raised in surrender.

"Have you thought about maybe telling them?" Lance asked softly.

"And get rejected." Mick laughed, "I think not."

"You don't know that." Lance refuted softly. "You might be surprised."

"What do you mean by that?" Mick questioned suspiciously.

"I have a hunch." Lance shrugged. "They treat you differently from how they treat us."

"He's not wrong." Esteban half shrugged.

"I'll offer you a deal," Lance proposed. "You ask them out, and if they say 'no,' you pick a destination, and I will take you on an all-expense-paid holiday to help you get over it."

"What about me?" Estaben protested, but he quickly shut his mouth at Lance's look.

Also ignoring the french man, Mick extended his hand to Lance. "Deal."

Lance clasped Mick's hand back. "Deal."

And with a shake, the deal was struck. All Mick had to do now was ask you out.

Something that was easier said than done.

It ended up taking till Monaco for Mick to pluck up the courage to finally tell you how he felt.

You were coming off the high of winning the Monaco Grand Prix, a lifelong goal for you. This meant that you had retaken the championship lead from Max Verstappen. So you were absolutely buzzing, feeling as if your veins were filled with the bubbly that had been sprayed on the podium.

Mick was also filled with Adrenaline; he had finally scored some much-needed points for Haas. The Adrenaline causing him to pull you to the side after you had taken team photos with your crew and had finally gotten out of your race suit.

"What's up, Mick?" You grinned at him. Your arm tingling from where he had softly gripped it when he asked if he could pull you aside.

"Well, um." Mick stuttered, losing some of his confidence as his arm came up to scratch the back of his head. "Isortofmaybehaveacrushonyou." Mick blurted out, the words so rushed and jumbled you weren't sure if you had heard him correctly.

"Pardon?" You asked, still trying to work out what exactly Mick had said.

Taking a deep breath, Mick started again, "I sort of maybe have a crush on you."

"Oh, well, that's a relief." You replied airily. "Because I sort of maybe have a crush on you too."

"Really?" Mick questions incredulously.

"Yep." You replied, popping the P.

"Really?" Mick questioned again.

"Yep." You laughed at the incredulous look on his face.

"Real-" Mick started, but you interrupted him.

"Mick, just kiss me." And boy, did Mick not need to tell twice, as he instantly grabbed your face and pulled you in for a searing kiss.

#f1 #f1 imagine #mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Overtime 10

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

"Drive," Mr. Hansen tosses the keys as he struts across the lot.

You barely catch them, you're scramble swinging your bag down to your wrist precariously. You right yourself as you get your finger through the keyring and you hit the button to unlock the doors. The tail lights flash to signal which car is his.

You don't argue with his demand, even if you don't think you should be driving his car. You get in and he flops into the other side, leaning back with his phone in hand like a teenager. You sit dumbly in front of the steering wheel and slowly pull the seat belt across your torso. Where the heck is the ignition?

"New model, critter," Hansen jabs his finger into the button by the wheel. "Drop the keys in the cup holder."

You obey and take in your bearings. You adjust the mirrors and the seat.

"Hey, don't fuck things up too much," he warns.

"Yes, sir," you put your hands on the wheel then reach to shift into reverse. The screen in the dash lights up with the rear view cam.

You're not used to the updated model. You back up cautiously and turn the nose of the car straight. You lean on the gas little by little as you pass between the rows of cars.

When you reach the street, you're no more comfortable controlling the luxury sedan but as always, there is no arguing. You idle at the light. Aimless.

"Colin's," Hansen insists, "they got better variety."

"Right," you put the blinker on and turn, undoubtedly irking the driver behind you.

As he continues to key in his phone, you focus on the road. You're grateful for the task. That way you don't have to think of or speak to him. Still, he's there and inescapable.

As you pull up to the store, he clucks. You shut off the engine and stare at the images of golf pros in their hats and gloves, a certain demographic with clubs in their hands on a green background. It’s the last place you would ever choose to go. With Mr. Hansen, there is rarely a choice.

He gets out first. Your reluctance must be clear as he whistles over his shoulder as you shut the driver’s door. You scurry to catch up to him. He nearly drops the door on you.

You follow him inside. A man in a polo greets him as you hover behind. It’s clear you’re not there to shop for you. Hansen chats with the guy about wood or something, then asks about the gloves. You leave a few feet between you as you take his lead.

He silently debates as he takes a pair of white and a pair of bright red gloves. He tilts his head back and forth. “Whatcha think, critter? Classy or trashy?”

You watch him wiggle first the white then the red. You can’t help but feel the selection in colour is deliberate. Red like your dress.

“The white are nice, sir. But won’t they get dirty?” You suggest.

He squints and rolls his eyes. He throws both pairs at you and grabs black, “you’re right. Who wants to get down and dirty, huh?”

You catch the gloves and hang them back up. He strolls along the wall of clubs and takes one out to feel the weight. You stand back. He tuts and puts it back.

“Hm,” he looks at you, no past you.

You nearly cower as he marches towards you. As he passes, you turn to follow his attention. You blanch at the shelf of clothing. It isn’t meant for him. He picks up a black skirt and flutters the pleats.

“You got long legs, critter, one wrong move...” he smirks over at you.

“Sir,” you utter flatly.

“You golf? Not mini putt, but real golf?” He asks.

You hesitate. You don’t know if it’s the first time he’s genuinely asked about you. Not rhetorical or sarcastic or demeaning. But a question with an answer.

“No, Mr. Hansen.”

He sucks his teeth then folds the skirt. He slaps it against the gloves. “Never too late.” He pushes both towards you, “we’ll need a cute top to go with that. Oh, and shoes...”

“Shoes? Sir?”

“Well, that fucker Brenner canceled. I need some competition,” he shoulders by you. “I’ll take a handicap so you have a fighting chance.”

“But sir--”

“But sir what? You got better things to do? No, you work for me and this is my time and I will use you—it, however I choose,” he chortles as he stops at the shelf of shirts. He takes out a halter with a collar. You frown and sidle along with him. “You a D? C? Double? I’m no good at guessing. Tits are tits.”

You nearly choke. You cough out your shirt size. He really can’t think the scale is based on chest alone. Or maybe he does.

“What about the contracts for Halo--”

“Who gives a fuck, critter. Make a goddamn call. You know Prissy down in legal. She wants to suck me bad. Tell her I need a favour and she’ll get it all done up with a bow,” he adds the shirt to your armload.

You stare at him. Why is he doing this? You know he’s not trying to take you out for a day of fun and he surely doesn’t want to spend time with you. He’s torturing you. This is all on purpose.

“You know,” he pauses and looks you in the face, “usually when I take a girl on a shopping spree, she doesn’t look so miserable.”

You try to ease the tension from your face but it’s tough. You’re still agitated from the morning. And the night before. And the years you’ve been trudging through humiliation at his beck and call.

“Thank you, sir. It’s very generous.”

His eyes flick up and down. He harrumphs but doesn’t speak his thoughts. You’re not sure that’s good. He holds grudges. You’ve seen how that goes.

#lloyd hansen #jake jensen #dark lloyd hansen #dark jake jensen #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #overtime #au #the losers #the gray man

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 8 months ago

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This Is Where You Stand With Me (part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: none

Part 1 here

Y/N's POV

"Hola madre!" I say jokingly as my mother answered the phone.

"Too much influence from Sophie's boyfriend or what?" She chuckles.

"Yeah, something like that." I laugh adjusting myself on the couch. "How are you? What's new?" I ask.

"Nothing much, I'm just going back home from work. What's up with you?"

"I'm enjoying my day off from work." I say biting my lip not sure how's she going to react to my new "job" which I haven't told her about yet. But I'm certain she's not going to be thrilled about it.

"What do you mean y/n? What work?" As soon as she says "Y/N" I know there's no joking anymore.

"Well," I take a deep breath before I continue. "First of all, don't freak out, it's only my temporary job, you know while I'm here in Monaco with Sophie. And second of all, I started working for Ferrari practically. I'm managing their social media."

"Explain it a bit better, please. What does that mean?" She asks confused.

"Basically, I'm spending a lot of time with their drivers. I'm filming them for social media, like when they're getting ready for the race, asking them some questions, filming behind the scenes like what happens before the race, filming them training and stuff like that you know. And I edit those videos and then post them." I try to explain to her as simply as possible. but my mom, like most others, is not on the internet, she is not interested in the world of social media and probably still does not understand why anyone would be interested in any of this.

"So who are you filming then? Sophie's boyfriend and?"

"Carlos and Charles." As I say his name my mind wanders briefly to Charles and the grand prix from last weekend. I wonder how he is, and if he talked to Ava. and what happened between them afterwards. I also wonder if he has already thrown somewhere the bracelet I gave him. As I've already said, you just never know with him.

"Y/n?" My mom's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry my thoughts wandered for a moment. What did you ask?"

"I asked if you are satisfied with that job? Are you treated well? What are those boys like?" Like any mother, she worriedly asks a million questions and I, like any other daughter, of course, will not tell her everything in detail.

I have always been close to my mother, but I never liked to share every detail of my life with her, even though she wanted to know it. But I just wasn't comfortable with her knowing all my private things. I believe that you can be close to your mother, without her being involved in all your decisions, attitudes and thoughts. We talk more or less about everything, but I have set some boundaries for myself about what I want to share with her and I think that's exactly why we have a relatively good and healthy relationship.

"Yeah, I mean it's not something I'll do forever, it's just a temporary type of thing, so while I'm here I might as well earn some money." I say. "And everybody's nice to me, of course, I already told you that Carlos is a wonderful person and boyfriend to Sophie, and Charles..He's not so bad either."

"You don't sound so convincing with the other one." She says referring to Charles.

"Don't worry really, both of them are very nice, it's just that I don't know Charles very well yet and I haven't spent much time with him so I can't say much about him." I say honestly.

While talking to her on the phone, I get up and head to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. While walking to the kitchen, I pass by the mirror and almost get scared when I see what I look like. Shaggy hair in a bun, without a hint of makeup, braless in an extra-large t-shirt with a print of Los Pollos Hermanos that also serves as my nightgown and house slippers on my feet. I guess I'm not one of those ex girlfriends that has a glow up after a breakup, but oh well.

"Well, as long as you're happy and safe, I'm fine with it." My mom says. "And besides, I think it's good for you that you left Manchester for a bit. Stay as long as you want."

"Really?" I am a bit taken aback and surprised by her words. "How come you think so?" I ask while waiting for coffee to be poured from the machine into the cup.

"I-I.." Just as she was about to say something the doorbell rings. Sophie went to lunch with Carlos, I doubt they forgot their keys.

"Mom, there's someone at the door, I'll have to call you a little later, okay?"

"Okay, we'll talk later, bye." She says and I hung up the phone.

I leave my phone on the kitchen counter and just as I'm about to go into the hallway to open the door, I accidentally pull the cup with my hand and spill hot coffee on my right thigh.

"Ouchh!" I almost scream in pain while the hot coffee continues to pour down my leg. "Fuck!!" My eyes get watery from the pain and stinging. Cursing my clumsiness I grab a cloth and wipe my thigh which is burning more and more and the doorbell keeps ringing. I go and open the front door when none other than Charles is standing leaning against the door frame.

"Charles, what are you doing here?" I ask with a sniff. I don't open the door all the way, but just peek out with my head. The last thing I needed is him here while I'm crying over my coffee burn and looking like I got mowed by a tornado.

"Y/n, are you alright? Why are you crying?" He asks, his expression immediately turned serious as he tries to enter.

"I just spilled hot coffee on myself. Please don't come in.." I really don't want him to see me like this.

"Let me help you." He says ignoring me and coming in anyway closing the door behind him.

"No, Charles..I-I'll be fine." I say pulling my t-shirt down with one hand and still holding the cloth with the other one.

"Let me see." He bends down and removes my hand with which I'm holding the cloth. "You got burned well." He says.

"Yeah, I can feel it. It hurts pretty bad."

"Come here." He waves his hand for me to follow him into the bathroom. It seems like he has already been in this apartment before. They probably had some gathering at Sophie's, so he knows where everything is.

"Sit there." He says pointing to the tub as he takes a small towel from the shelf under the sink and soaks it in cold water. I briefly feel a sense of relief as he kneels down in front of me and places a wet towel over my burn.

"You know, I really appreciate your help, but I feel terribly uncomfortable-"

"Yeah, I already saw that you don't have a bra on." He cuts me off and my cheeks instantly get as red as the burn on my thigh.

"You don't have to point it out like that.." I can't help but chuckle a little at his nonchalant response.

"You really do have to stop embarrassing yourself in front of me." He laughs.

"Why did you come here in the first place?" I ask shaking my head.

"I'm here to pick up Carlos. We agreed to go to the gym together, and he said he would be at Sophie's." He says taking the towel off my thigh and soaking it again. "So here I am. Where are the two of them anyway?"

"They went out for lunch. I think they should be back any minute now since they've been gone for a while." As he comes back with the cold towel I notice that he's wearing the red bracelet I gave him last weekend. He puts the towel over my thigh again and gently presses it.

"And what are you doing alone in the apartment, except destroying it?" I really like this funny side of Charles. For I moment I wished he could be like this all the time.

"Certainly not waiting for you." I playfully answer back.

"Yeah, sure you aren't." He says confidently and I roll my eyes at him. "I'm going to clean up that coffee you spilled on the floor." You can see the kitchen from the bathroom, so he definitely made sure I knew that he saw the mess I made.

While Charles is cleaning up in the kitchen, I quickly go to my room and put on shorts and a bra under my t shirt. Since he's already seen me at my worst, I decide not to fix my hair but to leave it messy like this. It's already too late now to look presentable anyway.

"Have you put on a bra yet?" He asks shamelessly as I enter the kitchen.

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be very inappropriate?" I honestly ask him.

"Quite rude thing to say to someone who just helped you."

"Thank you. Charles. For your generous help." I say slightly sarcastically through gritted teeth. "Do you want me to check when they're coming back?"

"Why? Can't wait to get rid of me?"

"No." I roll my eyes. "I'm just asking if you're in a hurry."

"I'm not. I'll wait for him. I hope they'll be back soon." He says taking a seat on the high chair at the kitchen island.

"Do you want something to drink while you wait?"

"A glass of water will do."

I reach for a glass from the top kitchen unit and in the process I scratch the injured thigh on the handle of the lower element. I wince in pain and curse under my breath.

"Be careful, where is your towel?" Charles asks me getting up from the chair. Before I can say I left it on the tub, he's already back from the bathroom with it. "Sit there." He almost orders me and I do it obediently while he soaks the towel again in the kitchen sink. He moves my hand from my thigh and puts the wet towel over it.

I don't know why, but I decide not to tell him that I can do it myself. And he doesn't say it either but proceeds to hold his hand a little longer over the cold compress looking down at it and gently pressing on it. I lift up my head to look up at him and for a second we lock our eyes together without saying a word.

"I-I.." In a moment of nervousness I wanted to say something just to break the silence, but luckily I hear the front door open. Charles quickly moves his hand away and goes to the opposite side of the kitchen island clearing his throat.

"Hello..guys..?" Sophie says as Carlos and her enter the kitchen looking very confused at the scene before them.

part 3

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jo-harrington · 2 years ago

Text

Standard Operating Procedures 1.03 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie is no stranger to disappointment, but it still stings, regardless.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.02 (Like...it immediately precedes 1.03)

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining and slow burn (yes still, always). Chekhov's...Guitar(?), Sad Boy Eddie, Disappointment, Kind of an argument, Disillusioned Eddie, Hurt/Comfort, fluff at the end as per usual.

Note: I am admittedly just making some shit up in this chapter strictly because I don't know how certain things were in the 80s and have already done my fair share of research and math for this fic. I'm a tired girl. Suspend your sense of disbelief. I hope it's seamless regardless.

Also, I just want to say, thank you for all the love this little series has gotten so far. Everyone has been so kind. If you haven't gotten some already, here's some soft internet magic to help you find your own Eddie Munson or mall romance or whatever it is you're looking for. *perpetual magical forehead smooch*

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other random Eddie Headcanons.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

"M'home!" Eddie announced as he bounded into the trailer. "Isn't it time to make the donuts, old man? Didn't expect you to still be here."

"Eh, Marty's got some appointment tomorrow, so I traded him for 2nd shift," Wayne sighed, sinking further into his arm chair. "Didn't get home too long before you and I don't plan to leave this chair for a good few hours."

"Well, I'll make myself scarce so you can enjoy Johnny Carson in peace," Eddie chuckled, knowing his uncle didn't get much of a chance to indulge in his favorite programs with his work schedule.

"Did ya' have a good session tonight?"

"No session. We went out to celebrate Gareth getting his drivers license."

"S'that why you're so giddy?" Wayne teased good-naturedly.

Eddie thought about it for a second as he kicked off his sneakers, realizing that he had been in a pretty good mood tonight. It had been a fun night out with the guys. And of course, you were there.

It made him happy that you got along with his friends.

And he got to sit next to you and sneak little glances when you didn't know he was watching. And he got to hear the little hitch of your breath at the jump scares and imagine that it would do the same if he kissed your neck the way he wanted to, someday.

You had leaned in close at one point and put your head on his shoulder...only to whisper some joke about a continuity error you spotted. And then grinned when he burst out laughing, only to get confused looks from the guys and curses from the other moviegoers.

It only got better when you agreed to go out on Halloween, as much as he felt like an absolute idiot for asking you.

Who asks a girl to go Trick or Treating? What was he, in 3rd grade? On the upside, it meant you still planned to be his friend come October.

Maybe you would be more than a friend by then.

If he could just get the courage to...actually ask you out.

It wouldn't be that hard, right? He would just have to...maybe hold your hand and ask if you'd ever want...well no that wasn't right...

Fuck. He'd done it before; he'd mostly gotten no's but...

"Y-yeah," Eddie finally responded, realizing his uncle was waiting for an answer. "Zombie movie. You know I like those. Gareth was practically pissing his pants."

"Well good. And you tell that boy not to let the driving thing get to his head," Wayne coughed. "He still owes me a new mailbox after your driving lessons.

"Speaking of which, there's mail for you on the counter," Wayne waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen.

Eddie shuffled over and thumbed through the envelopes, debating whether or not to pull a Carnac the Magnificent just to get a laugh out of his uncle, only to freeze when he reached the bright blue envelope at the bottom of the stack.

ROANE COUNTY PARKS, RECREATION, & COMMUNITY SERVICES

He didn't even need a second to think before he sprinted across the trailer to shove his feet back into his sneakers, grabbed his keys, and shouted a quick "imgoingtojeffsdontwaitup" as he raced out the door.

If it was any other time, he would have called first. Or waited until the morning. But if he knew his friends--and he knew them well--they went and got Dairy Queen after the movies, and Gareth would be pulling into Jeff's sleepy little cul de sac off Maple any minute now. There was no time to waste.

This was big, for all of them. He couldn’t do this alone.

He drove with the radio off, he kept his hands at ten and two, made a full stop at every stop sign, and didn't even speed like he usually would. Not one mile over the limit. He couldn't risk Callahan catching his scent tonight. And he prayed to every god, goddess, demon, devil, deity—every pantheon—he knew that everything could just be in his favor tonight.

It's just the fair, but what if this is the next step on the road to something bigger.

Eddie started honking as soon as he could see the tail lights of the station wagon. He didn't care who he woke up or what neighbor would call the cops. He didn't even remember putting the van in park before he jumped out; it could have rolled off a cliff, he wouldn't have cared.

The other guys started screaming as he waved the envelope at them.

"This is it, this is it. Did you open it yet?

"A real show, guys."

"Do we need new equipment? Shit, do we need eyeliner?"

"Alright guys calm down," Eddie grinned. "We have to open the envelope first."

They huddled together in the middle of the cul de sac, hovering over the envelope and Eddie held his breath for a moment. This would be the moment...

The moment that they could tell everyone they really started on the road to making it big.

The moment they got their first real set, their first big crowd.

Maybe there would be some talent scout at the fair. They showed up at these sorts of things right?

He might not even need to go back to Hawkins High come September.

Or even if he did…to know that he might be a real rockstar some day...He could ignore all of the shit from the kids and the teachers. It wouldn't need to be another year of ridicule and humiliation.

He ripped through the thin blue paper and pulled out the folded letter within, dropping the envelope immediately in favor of clutching it with both hands as he read.

His hands started to shake as he read, and it was only getting worse by the second.

He was going to vomit. Or...or pass out. Or...

Unfortunately due to the family-oriented nature of this event, the genre of music included in your proposed set list has been deemed inappropriate and we regret to inform you that your application for this year's Roane County 4th of July Festival has been denied.

Eddie was going to die. He would lay down, right here in the middle of the street, and die. They could just re-pave the street right over his corpse.

Here lies Eddie Munson.

Wannabe Rockstar.

He didn't even make it to his 20th birthday.

He finally looked up and passed the letter around, watching--painfully--as their dreams were shattered too. He gauged Jeff's reaction most of all, since he had been the one to propose the idea in the first place. But Jeff was fine; he was just looking right back at Eddie.

"You ok, man?" he asked.

"It's just a stupid fair," Eddie sniffed, ignoring the stinging of his eyes as he fought back the tears.

"Yeah," Dave nodded. "There's always next summer."

Next summer. Next year.

Another year he probably wasn't gonna graduate again. Another year stuck in this not-even-one-horse-town.

Sure, he was probably getting ahead of himself with the ideas of fame. But outright rejection? It stung. To be denied the chance to perform, to show off all of their talent, because of the set list he chose.

The guys all trusted him, he always chose songs that highlighted their strengths. Always wanted them to look and play their best. He was so proud of them, he never wanted them to fail.

But they trusted him and it let them down.

And because of that, Eddie couldn't let everything fall apart because he failed.

"They couldn't even let us pick some new songs," Eddie swallowed his pain and laughed dryly. "They don't know what they're missing out on."

It wasn't much, but it was enough to get them going.

"Hey maybe we could write some more original songs for next year?"

"I think if we practiced, I could really nail that one drum solo, hey Ed?"

"We would have totally melted some faces!"

They always held it together for him; he definitely could do it for them too.

---

“Are you sure he’s gonna like this one?”

“This is the newest model,” Eddie explained with a sigh, turning the box over to show off the list of New and Improved features on the back.

The customer was a sleepy-looking older guy in glasses and a wrinkled polo, who walked in 10 minutes before closing, whose wife apparently sent him out for their son’s birthday present: a new Walkman.

And the asshole was really dragging his feet on a decision. Eddie had all of the options they offered laid out on the display case, they'd gone over the different features several times. He almost had the sale, and then the guy realized it was the red model instead of blue. Like it even fucking mattered.

It was Sunday night too. Not like Eddie had anywhere else he needed or wanted to be.

“And if I go to Sam Goody, they’re gonna say the same thing?” He asked.

“You could go down there and ask, but I’ll bet you that it’s gonna be marked up at least 15% more.”

If he left now, the gate would get closed right behind him. The sale wasn’t worth it.

“Hmmmm, fine,” the man harrumphed and began pulling out his wallet. “And throw in a couple tapes too, I guess. I don’t know what Michael likes; whatever you think is popular. You're the expert here, not me.”

As soon as the guy had paid and was walking out of the store, Eddie pulled down the gate and grumbled under his breath "what a fuckin' dickhead, can't make a decision to save his life or even be bothered to know what his son actually wants for his birthday."

Kyle's barking laughter echoed across the store from where he was doing markdowns.

"I can definitely hear you from over here kid," he chuckled. "You've gotta chill.”

"Sorry man," Eddie sighed as he approached the registers to start the closing tasks. "I'm just...I dunno, in a bad mood I guess."

"Well, you're doing a good job, people just suck sometimes."

The first time Kyle told him what a good job he was doing, Eddie nearly confessed that he was channeling Kurt Russel in Used Cars and rolled a D20 for persuasion before each shift.

Whether or not the D20 roll actually worked, Eddie still had some of the best sales numbers on the team. They’d nearly doubled their sales goal today alone. Because despite the entire town seemingly having it in for him, no one seemed to mind that he was the one helping them find whatever it was that they needed.

"Stop thinking about it so much," Kyle laughed. "You just keep making those sales, we keep beating our numbers, and your bonus check's gonna be enough for the last payment on that Warlock you've been drooling over since you started. Doesn't that cheer you up a little?"

Eddie hummed dismissively as approached the cash wrap to start closing procedures, and glared at the stack of handmade fliers for Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night shows at the Hideout, sitting neatly on the electronics display case next to all of the special order catalogs.

Yeah that was the dream.

A stage-worthy guitar and an actual stage and crowd to go along with it.

But it was gonna be forever to get there at the pace he was going.

When he’d gotten home on Friday night and told Wayne about the rejection letter, his uncle clapped him on the shoulder and said “good things come to those who wait.” Of course, Eddie was grateful for whatever advice his uncle gave him. He was just…tired of waiting.

And he'd have to wait even longer, because tonight it didn't even feel like they were going to be able to leave the store at all, let alone on time.

Nothing was going right--or so it seemed thanks to Eddie's mood. And it just seemed to get worse as time wore on. He couldn't get the registers to balance, he kept fucking up the combination to the safe when he went to put the deposit away, the mixtape he put into the shop radio earlier in the evening had jammed, and it took both him and Kyle combined to jimmy it out of the player.

They ran into a problem with every single closing task.

And before long, you were outside of the store waiting, when he had typically made it his habit to wait for you.

It was just...one of those things that Eddie liked to do.

He could imagine he was picking you up for a real date. Watch you as you finished up your own closing tasks, enjoy the little things you probably didn't even realize you did--bob your head along to whatever residual music was playing in the mall, fiddle with your earrings with one hand as you signed deposit slips with the other.

The way you lit up when you saw him outside of the gate--gave him a bright smile and held your fingers up to say how much longer it would be--was one of the highlights of his week, after gigs at the Hideout and crushing the guys dreams during Hellfire.

He could have really used that tonight.

Instead, you were out there waiting as Eddie continued to fuck things up. You smiled and waved as you usually did when you first arrived, leaning on the little coin-operated horse right outside the store. Thanks to his frustration, he couldn't bring himself to smile back. He glanced outside every now and again, and felt his stomach lurch whenever he saw you kicking your feet or picking your nails. Bored. Annoyed. Sick of waiting for him, probably, if the lack of an expression was anything to go by.

He debated simply telling you to leave. That your night out was canceled and you could reschedule another time.

But if you agreed...you might get pissed off for wasting your time and avoid him whenever you saw him from that point forward.

How did this happen? How was it just 48 hours ago that he was coming up with a plan to ask you out? And now he might never talk to you again?

Because he was a loser, he wasn't worth the trouble, that's wh--

"Alright Ed, let's go," Kyle clapped a hand on his shoulder and Eddie jumped.

"What?" he stared at Kyle for a second.

"What do you mean what? It's time to go," Kyle explained.

"But the checklist," Eddie frowned, mentally tallying all the tasks they hadn't gotten to. "It's not done."

"You wanna stay and clean the bathroom? Mop the floors? I can just have Paulie do it in the morning," Kyle grabbed him by the shoulder and led him to the door. "Let's fucking go. There's a whole pan of lasagna waiting for me at home, and your girlfriend is out there waiting for you. Unless you want me to take her out instead?"

Eddie fumbled over his words as Kyle pushed him outside and locked the gate.

"Try to have a good night tonight; someone's got a crab up his ass," Kyle warned you with a wink before heading towards the exit.

You pushed yourself off the play horse and approached Eddie with a frown.

"Hey if you're not up to going out tonight, we don't have to," you offered.

Here it was, the first steps of rejection.

"Yeah, no," Eddie coughed weakly. "If you don't want to go out, that's cool."

He'd heard it all before.

"God you're such a loser."

"Who would ever want to hang out with a freak like you."

"You think I'd actually be into you?"

"It's not about me, I'm asking about you," you smiled gently. "I don't know if you had a bad customer or something. That always gets me in a mood."

Eddie scratched the back of his neck for a second and fumbled over his words. You weren’t turning him away. No you had to be letting him down easily...right? That had to be it.

Eddie…he’d just been burned too many times by so-called friends at even smaller inconveniences. It was hard not to expect the same from everyone else he let into his life.

Except that really wasn’t the way you did things was it? How many times has he expected one thing from you and you'd surprised him with another?

You weren't tricking him or out to get him or waiting for him to mess up. You were accepting him as he was and offering him whatever care or friendship he needed.

"Yeah," he finally scoffed, playing along. "This...this guy who came in right before we closed. Couldn't decide what he wanted. Wasted time walking around. Real piece of shit."

"Well fuck that guy then," you frowned, then paused. "You sure you're up for going out? Even if you don't want to be out and about, we can go back to my place and...I could cook something? Wouldn't be pizza like I promised, but I pretty much subsist solely on pasta if I'm not grabbing takeout or going out with you. You can just hang out, listen to music or something, it’s not a big deal.”

It sounded like the best night ever. Getting to see your space, adding another layer of trust to your friendship, giving you shit about your cooking just like you did with his dinner choices…but…

Eddie knew you had scheduled yourself to open on the 4th so you could see Corroded Coffin’s set. Of course this had all been planned before he knew they weren’t going to play. And he knew he would have to break the news sooner rather than later.

But...just like with the guys...he didn't want to let you down. You, who had your entire life together, who he was lucky gave him the time of day. If you got too comfortable listening to music, you might be reminded and you would ask him about it, and when you found out...

So he would keep you in the dark. For now at least. And then come that night when you met him at the Fair Grounds he could just tell you there was a mix up and you could just enjoy the fair and eat carnival food until you puked instead.

"As tempting an offer as that is, you'd be missing out on your first Benny's experience," Eddie forced an enthusiastic laugh. "Uncomfortable booths, shitty atmosphere. But you haven't really lived in Hawkins unless you've had a patty melt handmade by Benny himself."

"Surely not the famous Benny."

"The one and only. I can only semi-promise he won't scratch his back with his spatula, but he will blend a piece of apple pie into your milkshake if you ask nicely. It's the Munson Special."

Your eyes sparkled before you looked down at your feet for a moment, and Eddie vibrated restlessly, nerves getting the best of him once he wasn't being observed by you. You then looked up at him with your lips twisted to control a smile and you nodded.

What a relief...

---

It was an undeniable fact that Benny's was the heart of Hawkins, and Benny himself the soul.

He was a severe-looking man at first glance--wide-shouldered with a wild beard and furrowed brows--but he always had a laugh and a story to tell. He went out of his way to learn everyone's name and make them feel welcome and would already be prepping the grill for one of his regular's orders as soon as he saw their car pull into the parking lot.

And Eddie, by the grace of his mother's previous employment at the diner, was one of Benny's favorites. He told you as much and warned you of his "celebrity status" on the drive there.

"He's gonna be very loud, but he's really funny. And he might grill you about what sports teams you like, so he might give you some shit if you don't have one. Actually, are you a big sports fan? Oh, and he might grab me by the collar and shake me around a little, but it's ok...that's just his thing. He's been doing it since I was a kid after the one time I ate all the mints in the jar by the register."

"Eddie, don't worry it'll be ok," you laughed and shifted in the passenger's seat to get a better glimpse of him. "Oh my god, are you blushing?"

"What, no," he scoffed.

Yes, he most definitely was. And he could feel himself get hotter as you continued to watch him.

"It's ok, family can be embarrassing sometimes," you shrugged. "At least it's just funny embarrassing and not painful embarrassing."

Eddie swallowed nervously and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

Yeah this would be like meeting someone from his family, wouldn't it.

He was so caught up in his nerves and self-pity, he really hadn't thought of it that way.

"Unless Benny has some baby pictures of you on the wall something," you continued with a conspiratorial grin.

Fortunately, no baby pictures; unfortunately there was a picture on the wall near the old jukebox of a 9-year old Eddie with Benny and Rick, standing next to some massive fish they caught out on Lover's Lake. Whether to emphasize how big the fish was or how short Eddie was, he couldn't recall. All he knew was that he was missing a few baby teeth and his knees were all scabby from one fantastical adventure in the woods or another.

But you didn't need to know about that.

The diner was, thankfully, busy by the time you guys arrived, so you were spared Benny's theatrics short of a "how's it going kid" shouted from the kitchen and a bunch of muffled greetings from some of the regulars who were around when Eddie's mom was still alive. You did, however, get to meet Lynn, the blue-haired waitress that probably worked at Benny's longer than Benny had even owned the place. She was a crank and incredibly opinionated and always let Eddie's mom, then eventually Wayne and Rick, know all of the ways they were failing at raising him.

Now that Eddie was grown, she simply let him know every time she had a problem with him.

But Eddie was shocked at how swiftly you navigated the interaction with her, dodging all of the tricks and traps that typically set Eddie up for some kind of insult or life lesson.

Lynn simply took your orders--patty melts and fries with the promised apple pie shakes, "oh and extra whipped cream please"--hummed judgmentally and stalked off to top off various coffee cups. She didn't even say anything about the lack of vegetables on Eddie's plate when the food was finally ready, like she usually did when he came in for late night bites with the guys.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Eddie leaned across the table conspiratorially. "She's had it out for me for years."

"Old people love me," you explained. "I've driven my papa to enough doctor's appointments and sat through enough of his stories that I have...what did you call it? In your game? A bluff?"

"Buff," he corrected with a nod.

"Grandchild buff," you agreed and he laughed.

"Repel the Elderly," Eddie puffed out his chest and adopted his DMing voice. "A level 4 spell. No damage taken from anyone over the age of 65. But it only lasts 2 rounds. Let's hope the Harpy doesn't come back otherwise I'll need you to make a constitution saving throw. If you roll below a 10, she deals double poison damage; you might not survive."

You threw a fry at him and stuck out your tongue, then asked him to tell you more about Dungeons and Dragons. Everything was normal for a little while as you ate and talked.

Until Benny came to check on his patrons. He typically made the rounds every hour or two, stopping at tables and saying hello. The two of you were laughing at some joke Eddie made by the time Benny got to your booth.

"Hey, kid," Benny leaned his hip against the booth with his arms folded across his chest. "Long time no see; heard you got a real life, grown up job."

"Hey Ben, yeah. At the mall. Been more than a month now. I'm guessing Rick's been by?"

"You know how it goes: holiday weekend coming up, he pulls an all nighter getting supplies from his guy up in Milwaukee. Then he gets the waffle platter with extra bacon and we talk about all the town gossip."

"Nice to know I'm still gossip-worthy."

"You know how proud he is of you. This, uh...a coworker or something? You gonna introduce me or no?" Benny changed the subject and gave Eddie a knowing look. You, however, swooped in to introduce yourself as Eddie shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

He hadn't exactly told Wayne or Rick about you yet. Just that he had some new friends who worked at the mall too. It wasn't the same as talking to the guys. How many times had he had a crush over the years and came home excited about someone only to get his hopes obliterated. How many pep talks had he endured? Now, thanks to Benny's big mouth and Rick's unending need for gossip, they'd know he had taken a pretty girl to the diner.

He could truly only hope that there wouldn't be another pep talk associated with you.

"...ok Chicago," Benny sniffed as your short conversation came to an end. "You're alright. Backing the wrong football team...but still alright. Nice to meet you.”

He then turned back to Eddie.

"I need to get back to the kitchen but Rick told me about the 4th of July thing.” Eddie froze and his mouth went dry. "I'm sorry to hear about it. If you and the guys want, you can do a show here that night instead. Lot of families stop by for ice cream and pie and such.

"Maybe not that real heavy stuff you're into, but I know you boys know how to play some of the classics off the old jukebox. We could set you up in the parking lot. Phil's got some folding tables from the tree lot."

"Yeah thanks," Eddie nodded. "That sounds great. I'll bring it up to the guys when we have practice tomorrow."

"Just let me know so we can make sure you have everything you need." He turned his attention back to you. "Again, it's nice to meet ya'. Don't let Eddie scare you off, he's a big old teddy bear."

"Ben!" Eddie groaned and put his face in his hands.

"Oh he won't; I'm definitely scarier than he is," you cackled. "Nice to meet you too Benny."

Once he was gone, Lynn swooped in with the check. You immediately made to grab for it before Eddie could dare, but Lynn stopped you.

"No need honey; Edward already paid," she hummed. "As a gentleman should; seems Wayne taught you something right."

"It's always nice to see you too Lynn."

The older woman rolled her eyes and shuffled away.

You waited until she was gone before you turned your attention back to Eddie, gritted your teeth, balled the check up and threw it at him.

"Stop doing that! When did you even--"

"When you went to the bathroom," Eddie grinned triumphantly.

"You are a menace and you must be stopped!" You threw your hands in the air as you pushed yourself out of the booth to leave. "I'll get you back one day, I swear to God."

Eddie clasped both hands to his chest and gasped dramatically.

"No, please," he exclaimed. "No holy oaths in front of a lowly devil worshiper like me. I can feel the bullshit burning through me."

"Shut up, I hate you." You laughed. "Just let me pay for dinner next time."

“No, I let you pay for pizza," Eddie argued.

"You let me pay for a pizza. One. And you didn't let me do anything, I had to jump out of the van before you could. I don’t even think you had parked it yet."

“This is slander! I object.” Eddie put his hands on your shoulders, leveling you with the most stern expression he could muster. “I also let you buy cannolis.”

“Alright Perry Mason,” you rolled your eyes at him and swatted his hands off your shoulders. “You win this time.”

“Excuse me but Perry Mason always wins!"

---

You finally brought it up on the way to Lover's Lake.

It hadn't been Eddie's intention to always end your Sunday nights out at the lake, it just...happened. Pizza that first night, then Chinese food the following week when you lost track of time sitting in the employee parking lot debating which Indiana Jones film was better, Raiders or Temple of Doom. (It was Raiders. Obviously.)

Tonight, the plan had been to make s'mores on the fire pit in Rick's backyard. He had suggested it after he'd spotted a sandwich board outside of Scoops Ahoy advertising their knew Gimme S'mores flavor. He'd subtly asked you later if you had ever made s'mores before, and then gave you shit for your absolute throwaway answer.

"Like...yeah, in the microwave."

"The micr--are you shitting me right now?!"

"I'm sorry, there wasn't really an opportunity to start a bonfire in my fully paved backyard."

"Did you even have a childhood? No s'mores, no pudding, no sugar cereal? NO QUISP!"

So Eddie had gone to Bradleys and gotten marshmallows and chocolate and a variety of cookies. The plan, if you were ok with it, was going to be to smoke for a little bit--he'd dreamed of a s'more made with chocolate chip cookies when he had gotten high the other night and was very much looking forward to it--and enjoy the sweetness of both the s'mores and your company.

Instead, it had all shattered around him as he turned onto Cornwallis.

"So..." you began hesitantly, tapping your hands on your lap.

"So...?" Eddie asked, glancing over at you. You leaned forward a little, eyebrows raised expectantly. "What?"

"Benny's offer...for the 4th..."

"What about it?"

"You guys should do it!" you exclaimed. "That sounds like a really fun time."

You went on about the intimate venue and the regulars who already seemed to know Eddie and the guys, if what you had just seen at the diner was any indicator. The more you spoke, the more irritated Eddie seemed to get.

Not irritated...with you. No, just uncomfortable in his own skin. Uncomfortable with the fact that his failure was being perceived.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, his hands fidgeted on the steering wheel, his chest hurt. The van seemed to be getting smaller and hotter, the seat more uncomfortable, the longer you spoke.

By the time you finished, he barely felt like himself.

"No," he coughed. "No, I don't think the guys would be up for something like that."

"Why not?" you questioned. "You were getting ready to play at the fair right? What makes this different?"

"It just is," Eddie shrugged.

"I mean I get it's not a stage but--"

"You're not even gonna ask why we aren't playing at the fair?" Eddie cut in, attention fully taken off the road as he stared at you expectantly.

Because...because yeah you were nice, but it didn't make any sense that you were just...going along with whatever you heard. Why were you so quick to try and get him to accept this pity offer from Benny. Why weren't you throwing it in his face that plans had changed and his dreams were shattered.

"Ok. Why aren't you playing at the fair?" you asked and Eddie scoffed. "I'm not trying to be passive aggressive or anything, you just seem irritated that I didn't ask first. So now I am asking."

"Does it matter?" Eddie shrugged.

"Yes, because you're upset."

"I'm not upset."

"Eddie, please," you sighed. "Even Kyle said something was bothering you. I'm not trying to stir the pot and if you want me to drop it, I will. You just...when you talk about your music and the band you're always so excited. I want to understand why you don't want to take this opportunity."

"Because it's a reminder that I'm a failure!" Eddie shouted, hands coming off the steering wheel as he held them up beside his head. "Sur-fucking-prise! I can't seem to do anything right and that's usually fine, but yeah, you're right, this was one of the only things that really mattered to me and the guys. And I couldn't even get that right.

"Benny isn't asking if we wanted to play because he likes our music, because he thinks we're any good. No, it's because he feels bad that we can't play at the Fair. Because I chose what I thought was a really fucking cool set list and they turned us down. Because I fucked up and he wants to cheer me up."

"What's so bad about that? What's so bad about people who care about you wanting to take care of you?" you asked.

"Because it isn't care; it's pity!" He argued. "It's always pity of one kind of another, right? Pity that my mom died, pity that I live in a trailer park, pity that I have this dream that's gonna get me nowhere, pity that I can't even pass senior year after two freaking tries. What's the point anymore? I'm tired."

The van rumbled along, but it was silent otherwise. Eddie couldn't look at you after his outburst so he wrung his hands around the steering wheel.

Fuck. He really did it this time.

Eddie knew, he knew you were gonna ask and he was gonna try to avoid it and he was going to disappoint you. But he didn't know...

Eddie didn't like getting angry or really showing those kinds of emotions. It was different if he snapped at the guys to reel them in, or snark at stupid kids at school. It was harmless, no actual malice behind it. There were just some times...where he felt it all get too overwhelming inside of him and he didn't want to...

He didn't want to be like his dad.

It's why he liked smoking. And why he liked smoking. He wouldn't say he was someone with a lot of sharp edges to begin with, but they helped smooth out whatever rough burrs that came from the every day were left over on his soul after a tough week.

If only he had made it to Lover's Lake before you asked.

He had made the next turn back onto the highway when you spoke.

"Do you think I'm hanging out with you because I pity you?" you broke the silence with a small voice, and when he looked over, you were playing with your fingers and gnawing at your bottom lip. You didn't look scared or upset, really. That was a bit of a relief. But...

"No, I didn't mean..." Eddie paused for a second, because actually...he didn't think you were hanging out with him out of pity. But he was just waiting for the moment you realized it wasn't worth hanging out with him anymore because he was pitiful.

So maybe it was just worth it to end this whole thing now and save himself some unexpected disappointment. Just like it had been with everyone else who suddenly dropped him like a hot potato.

"I mean yeah," he shrugged. "Look at you. And then look at me. We don't exactly make sense."

"Make what sense?"

"You're like...you have everything figured out, you have your whole life together, you're like...on top of the world. Got your promotion to Store Manager, your apartment, everything. Meanwhile--"

"Eddie."

"--I can't even finish high school, my band can't play a bigger crowd than the Hideout, I'm pretty sure I...accidentally sold my soul or something because Kyle hired me and I'm actually doing a good job? But where am I gonna be in 5 years, in 10? Probably still right where I am. I've literally screwed up everything I've ever put my mind to. It doesn't make sense."

"When things don't work out for us, when we're disappointed, yeah it does feel like nothing makes sense," you sighed. "But that's why you need to let the people around you who want to help you, actually help you.

"It's not a bad thing to accept he--Why are we back at the mall?" You suddenly asked as he pulled onto the Mall drive and headed towards the employee lot.

"Well I figure the night is over, I would take you back to your car," he shrugged weakly.

You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly closed it and nodded.

Yeah, that's what he thought.

He still got out of the van and opened the door for you when he parked next to your car, he offered you some chocolate to take home if you wanted, and he even kissed your hand before you got in the car to leave.

"See you around sweetheart," he said softly through your open window.

"See you Eddie, have a good night please," you offered a small smile. "Please...be good to yourself ok?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets and watched you drive away before he got back into the van.

Be good to himself.

Weird, but that definitely sounded better the "fuck you" he usually got when people disappeared from his life.

---

Except you didn't disappear from his life. You lived in the same town, worked at the same mall, for crying out loud; you still parked your car kind of close to his when he came in for the rest of his shifts that week. You didn't eat lunch together like you'd gotten used to doing...but he would still catch glimpses of you as you passed each other on break.

It was almost...back to how it was before he had gotten the nerve to go and talk to you that first time. You would smile and wave and he would look away. Neither of you said anything to one another, but you weren't hostile and neither was Eddie.

The 4th of July arrived and Eddie had to work. He had originally traded shifts with someone so he could do a short mid instead of a close and he'd forgotten to switch it back. But that meant he caught you leaving Tape World at the end of, what should have been, your 15 minute break.

"What was she doing here?" Eddie asked Kyle, who was surprisingly decked out in as much flag gear as he could get his hands on.

"Who? Oh your girlfriend?" Kyle pushed his star-shaped sunglasses up the bridge of his nose as he filed some receipts away. The grin on his face was obnoxious.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Uh huh. Sure. Well, her shop radio broke again and she forgot her tapes again," Kyle shrugged. "What else is new? Hey maybe if I send you up there on official Tape World Business, you two can make up and you can stop being such a fuckin' grump."

Eddie ignored him.

That night, there was no concert at Benny's but he and the guys did end up going to the fair and eating funnel cake until they puked.

They actually had a good time; they had even watched the musical lineup for a little while. Whatever the clerk at the Park Department had chosen wasn't nearly as good as Corroded Coffin would have been. And that knowledge, paired with Gareth's heckling and Jeff's booing, kind of made him feel a little better.

The following Sunday passed by without your usual date night. Eddie still passed by your store on the way out to the employee lot. You didn't look at him or wave this time, you were at the register going over something with, what looked to be, a new hire. You laughed and his chest hurt a little.

Eddie knew how much those little dates, how much those lunches and breaks spent together, really brightened up his week. But it wasn't until he didn't have them anymore that he realized just how strong of a foothold you had in his life in such a short amount of time.

He really should never have pushed you away like he had.

He had fucked up.

He missed you.

---

"Hey Ed, once you clock in can you check the shipment in?" Kyle asked as soon as Eddie crossed through the doors to start his shift the following Wednesday.

"Yeah, great," Eddie sighed. “No problem.”

It wasn’t that he hated checking the shipment in….it’s just that there were about a million other parts of working at Tape World that he liked better. Talking to customers, choosing what would play on the store radio for the duration of his shift…shit, even counting down the registers at night. But this was tedious. Busy work.

It was an endless stack of boxes and he needed to make sure what was inside matched the packing slip. Thousands of little tapes. Great.

"There's some special orders back there too, if you can give the customers a call!" Kyle hollered after Eddie as he slipped into the stock room. Sure enough, there were a few larger boxes propped up by the little break area.

Now that was something Eddie enjoyed a little more. He'd call the customers--usually some desk jockey who got themselves something to get through their mid-life crisis, or a parent getting some dream gift that their kid would forget about come next month--and tell them their special order had just arrived. Then typically, they would drop into the store that day or the next day and he would get to help them unpack and test out their brand new guitar.

Aside from selling the sparkling new guitars from one of the many catalogs at the counter, this was the best part of his job. And knowing he would get to do it immediately brought his mood up.

Eddie himself had been waiting for the day where a package would be there for him. On his first day, as they were setting up the store before the mall had even opened, he had unpacked the box of catalogs and found a doozy of guitar that he had his eye on: A BC Rich Warlock. And he had been putting money towards it with every paycheck. Tape World had a plan, just like the holiday layaway at K-Mart, and combined with his employee discount...he was almost there.

He dreamt about it as he grabbed a box and pulled the packing slip from where it was attached on the side of the box.

Maybe in the next few weeks? Next month? He'd come back here and the label would say...

Edward Munson/Tape World/1 StarCourt Drive/Unit F3

Eddie blinked.

Yeah. That's what it would say.

Wait. Was he still high from after last night's show? When they'd made a very late McDonalds run and smoked in Gareth's garage?

Edward Munson/Tape World/1 StarCourt Drive

He blinked again. Nope, still the same.

Edward Munson

"Well?" Eddie jumped at the sound of Kyle's voice by the stockroom door. He had his arms crossed and he had the biggest grin on his face. "You gonna open it or what?"

"What the fuck man? Where did this come from?" Eddie questioned.

"I would assume wherever BC Rich makes their guitars? California, I don't know. I work here, remember dingus?"

"No I mean," Eddie fumbled over his words. "I hadn't made the last payment, where did it...did you..."

"Look at the packing slip man," Kyle gestured. "The order form."

Eddie quickly flipped to the Tape World order form stapled to the packing slip. There were lines of his signatures, and the amount of money he had put down with each payment...and then at the very bottom...

A very intricate signature. Yours. And the last hundred dollar payment, marked in red pen.

No. You didn't. You couldn't have. When did you even?

"I told you she was your girlfriend," Kyle cackled. "I fuckin' told you."

Kyle had been gracious enough to let Eddie take an early lunch so he could find you...confront you...kiss you...Eddie wasn't sure yet.

You opened on Wednesdays so right about now you would be taking the cardboard out to the loading dock and then taking your last break. He knew because, if not for the fact that he hadn't talked to you in over a week, he would be right there with you.

Still you jumped in surprise when he burst onto the loading dock, the heavy dock door slamming into the brick wall, just as you were hitting the button on the baler.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie," you put your neon pink, fishnet glove-clad hand on your chest. "Gave me a heart attack."

"Why did you do it?" Eddie asked.

"Do what?"

"This," he pulled the order form from his back pocket and crossed the short distance to show you. He tapped on your signature several times. "Why would you do this for me?"

Your mouth formed a soft "oh" and you sighed.

"Because you're my friend," you explained as if it was obvious. "Because you've been really down and you needed cheering up."

"This isn't just...cheering a friend up. It's too much."

"It really isn't," you shook your head.

"It's a hundred dollars!"

"I have savings," you continued.

"And you have, like...rent and bills and stuff."

"So do you...you said you've been helping your uncle with rent and bills and stuff," you said in a way that mocked him. He gritted his teeth.

"I was gonna use my sales bonus for the final payment."

"Well I'm due for mine coming up too."

"I'm paying you back!" Eddie insisted.

"No you aren't. I wanted to do this for you so I did it."

"If you felt sorry for me or--"

"I just wanted to cheer you up Eddie!" You exclaimed, slamming your hands on the baler button again in finality, as if crushing the already-crushed cardboard was somehow going to drive your point home. "I don't feel sorry for you. I don't pity you. You're my friend and you were really down, disappointed.

"Tell me yes or no? Were you on the verge of giving up? Yes or no, right now."

Eddie froze.

No he wouldn't. Except...hadn't he? There was no 4th of July Fair, which meant there also wasn't a show at Benny's. Their last set at the Hideout wasn't...well he wasn't as good as he could have been. As good as he usually was.

Maybe he had...given up on himself a little. Let the self pity get the best of him.

"No," was the answer he gave you though.

Your eyes hardened and narrowed in challenge. You placed your hands on your hips and stood toe to toe with him and although he was the taller one between the two of you, it certainly felt like you were a giantess towering over him, complete with layers of fishnet and rayon and tulle fluttering in the slight breeze off the loading dock.

"Maybe you didn't hear yourself in the van after Benny's but I did," you began. "You felt like everyone pitied you, that no one was your friend or on your side. You were alone, and in place of real pain and disappointment, and you said you were tired. What is the point of trying anymore, you're tired. You said that, Eddie. You did.

"And I've been there, ok? I'm not that much older than you but I kind of am in a different stage of my life. So I'm sorry if I've ever made it seem like things are easy for me...I'm sure in some aspects they are, but in others...yeah I've been there. It's hard not to compare yourself to others when you're down, but also, you can't just...push people away or think that they're taking pity on you when they're just trying to help.

"And I know it's hard to get over that little hurdle of feeling like everything is a trick or a trap and accept nice things from other people, so excuse me if I took the initiative to do it without your permission. Because when I was at a place of giving up and not wanting help or advice, someone did that for me. So I'm doing it for you now. And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Eddie stared directly into your eyes as he processed everything. Back and forth, left and right, as your heavy breathing went back to normal.

"Because, if you fail to remember, you have been doing nice things for me these past few weeks, and you really haven't let me return the favor quite yet, so if you don't want to accept that I'm just doing something nice for a friend, then accept that I'm paying you back for all the nice things you've done for me."

He swallowed and looked down at his feet for a moment.

"It was just...some pizzas and snacks--"

"And chili cheese fries, and surprise sodas on the days we don't have our breaks at the same time, and that movie ticket, and dinner at Benny's, and all the gas you've used to drive us around when at this point I can probably navigate town by myself," you finished for him.

Eddie did a mental tally and yeah, you were right. He did do all of those things, and no, he hadn't and probably still wouldn't let you return the favor if you gave him the chance to be your friend again.

"I know friendship isn't supposed to be transactional, but the scale has been tipped immensely towards you, so instead of just sitting back and watching you feel like a failure and give up on your dream because some stupid...I don't know, festival...person has no taste in music, I wanted to do something to surprise you. To cheer you up."

"Why haven't you talked to me then?" he asked.

"What do you mean? You haven't been talking to me," you laughed. "I've been waving and saying hello...you dropped me off at my car that night and then...you haven't even looked at me since. So I figured you just needed the space. I get that too; needing some time, some space."

"I guess I thought you didn't want anything to do with me anymore," Eddie replied lamely. Because yeah, you had been doing those things. Maybe...maybe you were right, maybe he did need the space too. God, you were such a know it all. "I'm here now."

"Yeah I see that," you deadpanned. "Hi."

"Hi," Eddie parroted. "Thank you. For the surprise. I really...really was...surprised."

"Of course, any time," you nodded. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Just like you said, I needed some time to work it out. Spent some time with the guys, it cheered me up."

"Good."

"You missed out on all the carnival food. Made the guys ride the tilt a whirl...Gareth's puke was purple."

"Yeah," you scrunched your nose. "I really missed out."

"There's always next year."

"Great." You offered him a small smile. "We good?"

"Yeah. You still want to hang out with me on Sunday? I, uh, really missed you."

"I missed you too. Maybe...you can give me a private show this Sunday? With your shiny new guitar? Only if you're up for it, of course."

"Absolutely. Sundays with you are my..." Eddie hesitated.

Should he say it? Would it scare you away?

Before he could finish, you put your hand on his arm and squeezed.

"They're mine too."

---

Next Part: Interview Prep

Sales Associates (AKA the tag list): @gaysludge @storiesbyrhi @tayhar811 @spookybabey @word-wytch @maidenofartemis @dreamlandcreations @wickedbelle @blue-eyed-lion @aysheashea @blue-mossbird @abibliophobiaa @jabbatheslutt420 @ghost-proofbaby @bakugouswh0r3 @ghostinthebackofyourhead

If you weren't given any hours this week (aka if you aren't already tagged or if I forgot to tag you) let me know via ask or comment. I'm sure I can find some extra payroll.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson stranger things #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fluff #store manager verse

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safetycar-restart · 1 year ago

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So. I saw a certain tweet of George going into the Mclaren motorhome with Lando. Thoughts? Well mine is that you are Lando's dom. George's dom treats him badly and Lando hates seeing his friend hurting. So he drags him back to see you so he can submit and feel better. He sees how good Charles and Pierre's poly relationship is for them and he wants that too! 🐇

Please I love the image of Lando just stealing George. He’s just like “nope, mine now” and fucking takes him. Shoutout to the poor mclaren media person who left Lando alone for two minutes and came back to find Lando had kidnapped one of their competitors. I'm gonna tag this as 'd/s au - poly!George/lando' cause i really like this idea and i'd love to hear more about it and for it to be its own au!!

Firstly, lando's original plan was to simply murder the Mercedes dominant, but he figured that would probably take a lot of planning and isnt really his thing (AKA: Alex refused to help).

George is pretty good at hiding how much he's hurting, how his dom clearly isnt giving him what he needs. But Lando can still tell.

His suspicions are confirmed one evening when he's at dinner with George and George asks him if he gets berated for needing more attention from his dom. Lando's heart just breaks for his friend (okay yes he's had a crush on George for years but George doesn't know that so it's still friend). Lando thinks about all the times George has stared longingly at you and him, how George averted his eyes when Lando would catch him watching.

Then there was the time that you joined them for lunch (Lando had just had a scene with you and he didnt want to part from you just yet) and George had insisted on paying. You had thanked George sincerely, telling him you really appreciated it and George was beaming for the rest of the day.

And then Lando thinks about whatever the fuck charles and Pierre have going on with charles's team and just... yeah he needs to kidnap George.

This all comes to a head during a media pen session. Lando was already in the media pen when George arrived, and George looked so fucking sad. His eyes were red like he had been crying, and he was gripping his water bottle so hard his hand was shaking.

Lando thought back to how George's session had gone, and as far as he knew George did well. There was nothing on track that would warrant George being like that, and Lando knows there's only one other thing that could do that: his dom.

Lando decides right then and there that George needs to come back with him and scene with you.

You have no idea how Lando manages to sneak George out from under the eyes of the entire media pen and his own media person, but somehow he did because you walk into his driver room and find George sitting on the couch with Lando.

At first you think that George is just hanging out with Lando, but then you see that Lando has his arm wrapped around George and seems to be comforting him. You ask what's happened, and George looks up in fright. The poor thing honestly looks like he's about to bolt out the door, but you're standing in the way of that.

Lando starts to explain, well he just says that George really needs a nice dom and then gives you his best puppy dog eyes and damnit you are powerless to deny him.

The saddest part is honestly how the smallest thing makes George so so happy? You run your hands through his hair, asking if he's going to be a good boy and he nods to quickly its comical. The smile on his face when you kiss his forehead in response is heartbreaking. A well cared for sub shouldn't be reacting this way to a mere forehead kiss from an unknown dom.

You treat George as well as you can, cuddling him and letting Lando suckle on his cock, praising him the entire time and encouraging him to fall apart in your arms. He's floating in subspace for the rest of the night, cuddled between you and Lando.

George is absolutely mortified when he wakes up the next morning and thinks back to how he acted. But at the same time, he can't remember the last time he was this well rested? He never wants to leave this bed.

Needless to say, George starts to come back.

At first it's just Lando dragging George along to scenes and George pretending that he's annoyed by this and hasn't been counting down the days until a race weekend because he might be able to scene with you and lando again. But eventually, George starts to accept that you and Lando actually love being with him and he starts to seek you two out on his own accord.

#d/s au - poly!George/lando #sub!george #sub!lando #ln #gr #nsfw.#gn!reader #d/s au #🐇

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valiant-if · 5 months ago

Text

hold up, imma rant about my job for a minute

So, for context, I am a self-employed pet sitter/dog walker—meaning I'm not signed up through any websites like Rover and operate on an individual basis.

Now, this client that I'm about to do a job for, I've been acquainted with her for roughly three years and have done some dog walks for her in the past. Additionally, she was only introduced to me because I walked dogs for her neighbors (whom referred her to me) for five years.

As of last week, we met to discuss expectations and anything else I would need to know or do around her house and she gave me her key. Then, yesterday, two days before her trip, she sent me a text (that came across as very tonally rude, by the way) basically requesting a digital copy of my driver's license because "it occurred to [her] that she doesn't know my last name or anything about [me]."

Now, because I'm not vetted by a website like Rover, I can completely understand a client being a little nervous about working with someone who is more or less a stranger. That said, she has the very strong reference of someone that I've been working with for 5+ years, and I could easily have provided her other references if she had come to me with this question weeks before her trip instead of days.

She also had the option to hire someone off of Rover or a similar website if she wanted the security of hiring someone with a verified background check. The only caveat there is that she'd probably be spending more money.

But I need the money and also am not a total raging asshole expecting her to find a pet sitter at the last second, so I compromised with her, telling her that sending a driver's license digitally would open me up to the potential of fraud in the future, so I would only send her a picture of it if certain information was blocked off. She agreed—but I was ready to cancel with her on the spot if she didn't.

Now, though, I have expressed to her that I use the internet to access resources for my writing work, and she is refusing to give me access to her network because she is worried I might "infect [her] network with malware," which, by the way, is not even what that means or how that works. So not only is she completely ignorant on what she's talking about, but she is showing clear signs that she does not trust me in her home with her pets.

So the great question here is, why even fucking hire me at all? She has another lady, a family friend of hers—that she has hired in the past, who is super sweet by the way, I've actually met her—who seems like she'd be a better choice since they actually know her. The only reasons I can think of why she would decide to switch to hiring me instead of that lady are, 1.) she liked what she heard from her neighbors, 2.) the lady she normally has watch her dogs is older and cannot walk them every day, or 3.) I'm a more cost-effective option. If it's that last one, well, beggars can't be choosers when you're literally trying to skim your costs by hiring your cheapest option.

And the part of this that is difficult to replicate is the tone in which these exchanges are being made. She's treating me like she thinks I am a teenager (which, by the way, teenage employees should not be treated like this either) instead of someone in their 30s.

I've never had problems with her in the past, and it's not that I think she's trying to be shifty, I think she's just ignorant and inconsiderate. And if I find out she has cameras hidden around her house, that's gonna be a huge deal breaker and she's gonna have to find someone on the spot to watch those dogs, because I will not be staying there if that is the case.

I have never before had a client request a copy of my driver's license despite the fact that I work on an individual basis—largely because all of them were referred to me by someone those clients trusted, so they decided to trust me in turn. Ultimately, though, the fact that she doesn't trust me isn't really the crux of the issue. The crux is that she should have hired someone else if she was having reservations about me.

Long story long, regardless of how this gig goes, I will be dropping her as a client and blocking her once it's over. The toxic way she's treating me is not worth any amount of money that she could pay me. Also, in general, she's just been completely unprofessional.

so anyway, rant done

#non valiant #non writing #also triggering because the way she is acting reminds me of my mother #also i forgot to mention how a few months ago she asked me to drive her and her wife to the airport?#which is confusing because apparently she trusted me enough to ask that question so casually?#but also i'm not a fucking lyft driver so i turned her down

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years ago

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I think y/ns dad would treat mick as if it was his own child, absolutely defending him at all costs, like imagine him defending mick against guenther??? im living for it

Tw: haas

"We can sit here, the race is about to start", you nudged your parents to sit in the garage's sofas, looking out to the pit as you looked for your boyfriend's car on the screens. It had been tough the last couple of days, Mick having found out that Haas wasn't certain if they were keeping him for the upcoming season, and this weekend, with all the changes they had made to the car, the progress was not going the way they expected, which left a weird environment around.

Mick had been driving as best as he could with what he had, and when he was called back to change his tyres, your mother was the first to comment on it, "is that a good idea? Everyone else seems to be going the opposite way", while your father nodded his head, "I don't know, these cars all behave differently, you can't even compare them", you mumbled.

Some issue in the car in front of Mick's and some debris from a previous crash managed to get into the car, compromising its performance as your boyfriend sent another weekend without points, looking defeated as he exited the car, taking off his helmet and balaclava as he spoke to Gary, "I'm sorry we couldn't do more for you, Mick", he apologised as the driver was about to reply to him, the team principal barged in, "we really can't keep having this weekend in weekend out, we have to score points!", Steiner said, and while some employees just left him to his devices, Mick actually tried to have a conversation with him until some offensive accusations started being thrown in your boyfriend's way, making you step a little closer to him, "I feel like this is not helping, so maybe another day? He has media duties now", you tried as the older man looked at you, "and do you think I care? God knows how bad this has been! No one fucking delivers, a-", Steiner raised his voice at you, making everyone look at you.

"Whatever it is you're dealing with, deal with it. But don't take it on my daughter, or much less on Mick. Let alone everyone else here. They're trying to do the best job they can. It's not their fault the car doesn't go as fast as you want. And, please, start treating people properly. Mick is an excellent driver and you're failing to support him and help him develop, and in all honesty, not having him here next year will be the best thing for him, because I'm sure you're not going to be any better, but he will", your father defended, the calm yet assertive way he spoke with surprising the team principal as you all turned your back, Mick heading to change for his duties.

As soon as he was done with interviews, he caught up with your father while you had gone to the bathroom with your mother, "Thank you for defending me. I don't want to seem rude, or something else that I am not, but these environments are really hard, and he's not the best person when it comes to... people I guess...?", Mick said as your father chuckled, "Mick, you don't deserve to be treated like this. You're talented and you will do it one day. Maybe it will take time, buy you'll get there, I know you will", your father said as he hugged hour boyfriend, just in time as you got back, "having a hug? Without me?", you teased them before coming to hug both men before moving to just cuddle Mick, "but he's right, I know you'll get there one day, my love".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#mick schumacher blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb

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forcebookish · 1 year ago

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I'm convinced the only reason mew gets "bad friend" allegations is bc they want their fave character to be coddled and enabled. now if he did THAT then he would be a shitty friend but he is telling ray exactly what he needs to hear. especially after years of the same exact cycle and nothing changing. and even then mew is way too forgiving imo bc if someone did half the shit that ray did to me I would walk away for good. and I think a lot of this fandom forgets that trauma can be a reason for things but it's not an excuse especially when you are grown and know exactly what you need to do but still refuse to do it. (sorry if this seems unsympathetic or whatever I'm just very tired of the babying of a certain character)

you said it, anon!

ray is an adult who is responsible for his own actions, full stop. and the craziest part about all this is that mew does kind of enable him: he goes drinking with him and forgives him even when he crosses lines he never should have crossed. i agree that mew is too forgiving, and it looks like he's going to forgive him again. not only did he ruin mew's birthday by sharing the audio, ray then yelled at and talked shit at all their friends (while high) and accosted/physically threatened mew's boyfriend and other "best friend" (😒). mew only punched ray because he was picking a fight with everyone and threatening to out top, again, in front of all their friends and on his birthday - and he wouldn't stop after being repeatedly told to and asked to leave.

and same, anon, if my friend did that to me i'd cut him out. the only way that i would let him back in my life is if he got 100% sober, and he'd have to be for a while. as far as i'm concerned, ray burned the bridge himself. i'd tell him, "this is your rock bottom, finally do something about it." and often, cutting someone off is the wake-up call they need to figure their shit out. (but it looks like ray's car crash in the next episode is going to be his wake-up call.)

but you're right, mew keeps telling him he shouldn't day drink, do drugs, and drive while under the influence.

side-note: when boston agreed to take ray home and therefore ray was actually his responsibility, he abandoned him and fucked off to have sex with a stranger lol

i mean, i'm not saying that anyone who thinks mew is a bad friend automatically thinks that boston is a good friend but still. (tbh another reason people may say mew is a bad friend is to make themselves feel better about how his shitty friends treat him lol this fandom looooooooooves to say, "everyone's an asshole" and that means everyone can do anything to anyone else and therefore it's fine actually lmao) (not how that fucking works)

but apparently mew's a bad friend because he lets ray make his own shitty ass decisions, like an adult? because he can't drive him home????? i'm sorry, should mew get a driver's license and car just so he can drive ray home when he's drunk? mew has to be his fucking nursemaid in order to be considered a "good friend?" not even going to get into how gross it is that they hate mew for not liking ray back.

above all, mew values autonomy. he makes his own decisions and he expects others to live the same way: this includes ray. he wants what he thinks is best for them (and he's usually right), but he believes they should think and act for themselves.

(you know, even when he, ah, incentivizes them, re: top's drug use lol it's still top's decision. mew doesn't want a boyfriend who does drugs and he wants to have sex. two birds, one stone.)

we're years into their friendship now, and ray has been an alcoholic and drug ab/user since they were twenty, maybe even earlier if he was drinking underage. the flashback where mew saves his fucking life (oh, it's only good when sand does it?🙄), ray already has a drinking problem and has gotten himself into trouble because of it, having to lean on mew multiple times to the point that mew is obviously frustrated about being called in the middle of the night after the umpteenth time. which is understandable! it's not mew's job to be at ray's beck and call; he's not his dad, he's not his boyfriend - and even then, that's a lot to put on anyone when you don't even seem to try to be changing (he's literally drinking in the next scene! okay!!!!! is mew supposed to smack it out of his hand in order to be a "good" friend? again, autonomy!!!!). ray says he's a burden but he doesn't do anything about it. mew's been his dedicated "emergency staff" again and again, and it's not his responsibility to take care of ray all the time.

ray's biggest problem is that he thinks he doesn't have a problem: he'll get so drunk (and high) he can barely walk and he'll say he's not drunk and then try to drive!!!!!! that shit isn't okay!!! in fact, it's inexcusable!

you know, i was thinking that the "superiority complex" allegations against mew were about his being (slightly) judgmental about boston sleeping around (which mew obviously only says because he wants him to be happy. even if he has a narrower idea of happiness, he just wants what he thinks is best for boston - but he doesn't shame or even tell boston he should settle down, even while boston is constantly saying that mew should lose his virginity to the point of obsession🙄 anyway), but it might have more to do with ray, and mew having a problem with him drinking himself to death lol

mew is the only one to tell ray he should stop drinking and using drugs and... that means he has a superiority complex? being worried about his alcoholic friend whose mom died of alcohol poisoning? he's the only person who tells him to stop drinking and using - that doesn't make mew a bad friend, that makes him ray's only good friend. even sand, who has had to physically struggle with ray to keep him from driving under the influence, LITERALLY SUPPLIES HIM WITH ALCOHOL AND DRUGS OH MY GOD

all this to say, you're so right, anon. wayyyyy too many folks in this fandom will find any reason to excuse ray's behavior, no matter who he hurts or how bad it gets. nothing is ever his fault despite making his own decisions and taking his own actions and facing his own consequences.

thanks for stopping by, anon!💖💖 you weren't unsympathetic, you were real. more people in this fandom need to talk about and realize how fucked up all of this is - especially since it's so realistic. he's a pathetic little meow meow, yes, but that doesn't make the way that he treats his friends and endangers others automatically okay. and you can like him as a character without blaming others for his own issues and acting like he's a fucking baby who can do no wrong! he's doing plenty of wrong!!!

AND MEW IS A GOOD FRIEND WTF!!!!!!!!!

#inb4: if anyone has a problem with me not calling out top for his drug use #afaik he doesn't have an addiction #i know that the drugs he uses are NOTORIOUSLY addictive and that he probably used them due to a high tolerance for his sleeping pills #and i do think he's going to relapse #but he quit. and it took only one time for him to be told to quit to quit. he didn't blow up his life first. he didn't hurt anyone.#is he going to blow up his life? yeah probably but i'm not going to judge him for something that hasn't happened yet lmao #sound familiar?#ofs liveblog #anonymous #asked and answered #i kind of wanna tag this but i don't wanna fight with anyone lol

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nomnomnibblenibble · 1 year ago

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You're absolutely right, a large portion of Lewis fans use literally anything, in our out of context, to criticize him. They probably think they're being the better person for holding their fav "accountable" like Lewis isn't criticized for merely breathing by every other fandom. To avoid the "cult" allegation they've completely gone over to the other side and complain about every single thing he does. A lot of them are glory hunters tbf so their frustration has been building with Merc's continued failure, they take it out on Lewis as a result. I knew his fans were pathetic when they were crying in the qrts of his Glastonbury festival appearance where he was simply assigned a seat next to Sam Taylor Johnson and calling him names like he personally arranged the seating. When, mind you, he was with Elton John's husband and son. MV is literally involved with a racist, homophobic family, Charles liked several anti blm tweets yet you'll never see their fans act like Lewis fans do. Certain Lewis fans treat him like some common criminal when he's probably one of the nicest athletes around who always owns up to mistakes and improves himself. They always say F1 and other drivers don't deserve him but lbr, many of them don't either. Like wtf are you dragging him for scabbing, he's not a damn actor 😭 Just a pathetic bunch, they need to drop the pretense and support whichever ignorant, bland fool they prefer and let Lewis be

Right, it's like this insane overreaction sometimes. They sound like haters when they constantly hold him to this insane standard.

He's not immune to criticism. He does things I don't like and associates with people I would rather him not. No issue with acknowledging that much.

However, I don't expect Lewis to be absolutely perfect. There's no reason to get upset if he isn't living up to your unwritten expectations. There's no reason to go into deep speculation about who he "really" is. I have a feeling some fans want to be able to have some kind of moral high ground over others so it's like you said they wanna detach from that cult lh label. I also think there is a feeling of superiority some of them get from the idea that "my fave is unproblematic unlike yours...." and get upset if Lewis does something that "embarrasses them".

I know it sounds horrible but leave some stuff alone and keep it pushin - has team lh not been through enough already?

#lewis hamilton #ask

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justablah56 · 1 year ago

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TJ anon once again: this is great because it's like writing a multi chapter fic but there's no plot and it's made for a readership of one person

Cass "Hey, if there's no security footage, there's no proof" Swift-Close-Foster-Freeman-Stampler is definitely a bit of a chaos gremlin. She and Lark once almost got arrested for public indecency when she got him to unbutton her shirt in a nightclub. Why? No one really bothered to ask, they were too busy trying to bargain with the police. One of them turned out to be Jodie's old work mates, who let them off.

You know what, this is going to be a clubbing themed ask. Disclaimer: I have never been clubbing. Legally, I cannot

The kiddads, Rebecca, Marco, and Cassandra have gotten kicked out of multiple clubs. At some point, they developed a system to create the wildest night possible, involving when you can start dancing on tables, and the best place to make friends for the night. The answer to the latter is the girls' bathroom. There is always a crying drunk girl in a bathroom, and Cassandra and Rebecca are very skilled at comforting and befriending them. Your boyfriend broke up with you? And he's here with his new girlfriend? Girl, you're so much better than him, we will buy you drinks and hype you up. We have 6 hot men who will dance with you and treat you like a goddamn celebrity for the entire night, let's show that fucker how much you don't need him. And if you're worried about them being weird, two of them are gay and all of them are respectful. Have some discount coupons for Swallows Ice Cream and a random makeover. We will turn a terrible night into one of the best for you.

Certain members of the group have been mistaken for erotic dancers on multiple occasions. No comment as to who. It does mean that they have more money for drinks though.

Cassandra and Nicky will be the ultimate gnc couple. Cass goes in a suit, but one of those more casual ones that have lowcut shirts and a deliberately loose tie. Nicky goes in a crop top and mini skirt with fishnets. They have switched outfits part way through the night without people noticing at least 7 times, because honestly, they would both wear each outfit.

Terry and Lark are usually the sober ones, as Lark is often the designated driver, and Terry just assigns himself designated drunk people wrangler. Since they're also the two who (at the time) are not in a committed romantic relationship, they carefully accumulated embarrassing moments for everyone's weddings, knowing that there was no sufficient retribution.

(Side headcanon that Terry and Lark go on platonic Valentine's dates every year in college/uni. They take lots of photos of Terry being cutesy and couple-y and Lark just being grumpy. Terry Jr always buys him sunflowers for the date, and although he'd never admit it, he keeps them for as long as possible. One year, TJ actually had a girlfriend on Valentine's Day, but he told her he was busy and still went on the date with Lark. She broke up with him after seeing the pictures of them together on social media, which, in retrospect, Terry Jr admits was completely fair)

hello again tj anon !! <3 also , this is great bcs I get soso many hcs and fun storylines that are vaguely connected , all written specifically for me to read and it's absolutely lovely <3333

anyways , the kiddads and co just being the most chaotic clubbers to ever exist <333 they commit enough crimes when they're sober , so it only makes sense they'd commit even more when drunk LMAO but them also just being like . that one story that a bunch of random girls have . just some club cryptids that find random sad girls and then proceed to be the nicest people ever and give them the night of their lives dbnsnsmsm also multiple of them being mistaken for strippers 😭😭 love that for them honestly <3 also glad to see Nicky is continuing Glenn's legacy of having the most gnc "straight" relationship to ever exist <333 them sharing outfits is everything , actually <3333 but lark and terry collecting everyone's embarrassing moments for weddings dbjsnssksk they are so silly <33 it's just the Lark and Terry dynamic !!!! they are the qpps of all time !!!!! and Terry ditching his gf of valentine's for lark 🥺 like yes that sucks for the gf , but Terry and Lark !!!! I love them !!!!!

#tj anon #ahh have i mentioned that i literally love these so much tj anon ?#bcs i love these so much #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies

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windrush-child · 2 years ago

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Love In The Dark 3

A fateful encounter between you and a fearless racing driver turns your whole life upside down. This is the story of a blossoming love affair, in the shadows of a loveless marriage.

Disclaimer - This story will contain descriptions of domestic violence and general adult content. 18+. More work

The cool water running down his neck feels like heaven in Qatar's sweltering night air. The second he'd finished the post-Qualifying interview, he unzipped his overalls and proceeded to treat himself with an ice cold bottle of water. Lewis sighs, leaves his eyes closed for another moment to enjoy the soothing feeling on his burning muscles, before he heads to the garage. The team's showering him with mighty pats on the back as he makes his way through. P2 is a fantastic result for tomorrow, way better than they had anticipated, and it was all thanks to their driver's faultless performance today - Old man's still got it, after all. On his way to the changing room in the back, Lewis sees his physio jog towards him, holding out his phone in her hand. "Hold on- there you go," she says. "It's been ringing nonstop." He draws up a brow. "While I was in the car?" he asks as he takes it from her. His physio nods, gives him half a shrug. "Thanks, Ange. See you at the conference," he adds, and closes the door behind himself. Perplexed, the driver scrolls through his call list. Who on earth would try to phone him on a Saturday night while he's driving - three times in a row, no less? Letting himself fall into the couch, he taps the mysterious number. It rings exactly one time. "Hello?" When Lewis recognises the voice on the other end, a smile forms on his lips. "Good evening sweetie," he says, and hears you draw in a breath. "You let me wait." he teases, but he's not wrong - it has taken you a total of fourteen days to build up the courage to dial his number. He slipped it to you before you got into your taxi last time you saw each other in Monza, certain that you wouldn't be able to resist. "Yeah," you say, followed by a nervous laugh. "I was just wondering whether I could speak to you later? I'm actually at the circuit." "You're here?" he asks, taken by surprise. "With whom?" There's hesitation at the other end of the line. "My husband." you say, and Lewis can clearly hear the reservation in your voice, like he's something you don't even want to acknowledge. "But he's out with the Emirates guys for the rest of the night." you add. "Bloody shame. I would've loved to meet him." Lewis jests, before getting shushed by you. He's grinning into the phone right now, you're sure of it. "Of course, you're always welcome to visit. Can you meet me at my motor home in twenty minutes?" "I'll be there," you return. "But, Lewis-" You hesitate for a moment. "Please just make sure there's no one around, okay?" Lewis wants to laugh, but holds it in for your sake. It almost feels like this is the first time you're doing something even remotely forbidden - he finds it kind of endearing. "I promise I'll take care of that." he says, smiling to himself as the excitement begins to grow.

—-

Standing in the paddock area, in the back where cargos filled with equipment are parked, you glance into the reflection of a big bus. A tight long-sleeve dress in grey and high-heels, but not too high. Dark red lipstick, a little bit of jewellery. Just enough to be provocative. You take a deep breath and start walking down the silent parking lot, until you've reached the Mercedes Benz motor home. His bodyguard is just friendly enough as he lets you pass, but not more than he needs to be. For a moment you wonder how many women the guy has seen come and go since he started working for the driver, but you decide you don't want to know the answer either way.

The door of his motor home is unlocked. Inside, it looks just as splendid as you expected it to be - these F1 teams have outrageously deep pockets, after all. You tiptoe through the living area (the bloody thing is big enough to be an apartment of its own) and start investigating in the low lights of the motor home. Photos on the walls, rings and necklaces on the dresser, healthy drinks on the kitchen counter, and another door - open - that leads to a bedroom. But, no sign of Lewis. Where is he? As you examine one of his shiny, silver rings, the sound of a door lock catches you off guard - to your left, Lewis emerges out of his bathroom. You hold your breath - not just because it's him who's stepping out of there, but because he's also completely naked, damp and glistening from the shower, with just a towel thrown over his shoulder. Goodness. "Oh, you're early." he says as he spots you, seemingly unbothered by his state of affairs, while you try your hardest to look anywhere but the man in front of you. In the end, you settle for an interesting carpet on the floor. "Sorry, I didn't know you were..." you say and make a vague gesture with your hand. Lewis bites back a smile, swiftly wraps the towel around his hips so you don't have to go any redder than you already are, and grabs a pair of sweats from a dresser. "No worries. Make yourself comfortable, I just need five more minutes." he says and disappears back into the bathroom. You exhale and shake your head. He really knows how to make an entry, doesn't he? You sit down on the couch, run your hands along the sides of your dress to flatten the wrinkles. There's no denying it - He looks incredible, even better than in your memory, which doesn't make this a whole lot easier. After all, you didn't come here to fall to his feet like a love sick puppy, no, you're a grown woman and you're gonna behave like one - at least that's what you're trying to convince yourself of. At this point though, you're wishing you had some sort of script with you, some pre-written dialogue of how you want this conversation to go. Maybe you'd look like less of a nervous wreck if you had.

When he reappears into the living room, you still feel kind of overdressed - Lewis is only wearing sweatpants, his braids hanging loose around his face. You never knew he had so many tattoos, can't help it when your eyes trail over his chest. He smells lovely, too, like fresh out of the shower, like him. It feels intoxicating when he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "So, I hear you'd like to tell me something?" he asks as he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water. Good idea, actually, since your mouth feels really dry. "Yeah..." you start, and take the glass from his hands. "I... well, I've been thinking about our last conversation a lot." you say, the tone of your voice so formal that it almost feels silly. Lewis is leaning against the kitchen counter, just a hint of a smile in his eyes as he lets them roam over you - alluring as ever. He's listening intently. "And... firstly, I wanna say that I've never done anything like that before- I wouldn't cheat on my husband. I'm not a cheater." you ramble on, as the driver squints his eyes at you - now this is interesting. "Just so you know, I'm not taking the things that happened between us lightly. I'm still married. I kind of... have a duty." you continue, and it sounds to him as if you were holding this little speech for yourself rather than anyone else.

"So," Lewis interrupts, pensively scratching his chin. "You've travelled all the way here... to tell me that cheating is immoral and you're not interested?" he asks, and tries hard to keep a serious tone. You open your mouth, but it takes you a moment to catch up. "No- I mean," you stutter, "It's just, I'm aware that I am one of many flings to you. You're in this for some carefree fun, I know how you guys are." you explain, "And I don’t know if I can be involved in... these kinds of affairs." Lewis lets out a scoff. "Is that so?" he asks, pursing his lips into a smirk. "Because the way I see it, you're the one doing all sorts of questionable things behind your husband's back. Yet, you're assuming I'm a womaniser..." he says, crossing his big arms in front of his chest. You swallow, and shift on the couch. it's not as comfortable as it was five minutes ago. You get up, just to put your glass down on the counter, and take a few strides through the living room in an attempt to avoid his intimidating gaze - but the man doesn't let you off the hook just yet. "It seems to me," Lewis continues, "you think you're somehow above all that." He takes a couple of steps towards you, and your pulse reacts straight away. "As if you've got a moral high ground on me. Even though you clearly kept my number and showed up here." "I'm not disputing that!" you blurt out, backed up against a wall - figuratively and literally. "But you're dancing around it, for some reason." Lewis counters, so close now that you’re almost breathing the same air. You have to look up at him, can't bring yourself to turn your face away. He's too close, the air inside this room too hot. "Drop the act. I know you've been thinking about it." Lewis says and pauses when his gaze falls to your lips, then up again, before you see a flicker in his eyes. "Maybe even touched yourself to the thought of it." Your face falls as soon as he's said it, bright red in an instant and hotter than ember. Lewis tilts his head ever so lightly and raises a brow. "Oh?" he says, but the look on his face tells more than a thousand words. "Now would you look at that…” he hums, voice low. Nonchalant as ever, the driver turns to the counter to pour himself a glass of brown Rum, all the while you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights. "So, now that we got this out of the way-" he begins, taking a sip of the sharp liquor. "You can tell me what you're really here for. Or do you wanna keep talking about your spousal duties?" He smiles, giving you a look through his lashes. You swallow, and try to stand a little straighter. "Look..." you sigh, struggling to make sense of what you’re trying to tell the man. "This is hard for me." you admit, and it's the truth. "I know my husband doesn't deserve my faithfulness, he doesn't even deserve the fact that I'm feeling guilty for this. If you knew him, you'd understand why." you add. Lewis quietly observes you, lets you take your time with this. "And I'm sorry for calling you a playboy... I didn't mean it like that." you say, which makes a smile tug at his lips. "You're forgiven." the driver returns, setting down his glass. You give him a grateful nod. "The thing is... I like you. I really do." you say, running a hand over your own collarbone. "And god, yes, I have been thinking about it. I don't think I ever stopped since we left Monza."

Lewis smiles a bit wider, warmer - and says nothing more. That boyish spark inside his eyes could easily make your heart melt. You watch in silence as he walks over to where you're standing, before you close your eyes - His hands find your waist, smoothing over the small of your back, and he has to apply just a bit of pressure to pull you close, your belly against him, your palms on his chest. It feels so good, breathtaking when he runs his hand up your neck so he can hold your jaw, not demanding, but leading, and tilts your head to the side to expose your throat to him. He pleases you with wet, warm kisses to your sensitive skin, sighs when he hears you moan lowly, until his lips halt at your ear. "What would you like me to do, sweetie?" he whispers, and you're glad his arms have you wrapped in a firm hold when a tremble runs through your legs. Fuck. "I-" you rasp, gripping his shoulders tightly. "I want... your lips." "Yeah?" he breathes, pressing you up against him harder as he sucks on a spot below your ear, and you can feel his own desire starting to grow against your lower belly. "Where do you want them?" You take his hand into yours, shaking like you've never done this before, and direct it lower and lower til it rests between your legs, above your dress. Lewis growls and grabs your wrist in protest. "Say it," he demands, and already lowers himself to his knees before you, one leg after the other. "Out loud." You groan, frustrated and heated beyond remedy, can't bear to play this game any longer. Both hands on Lewis' neck, you take a shallow breath. "On me. On my pussy. Please-" you gasp, and it's all he needs to hear.

He puts his hands on each of your thighs, smiling contentedly, thumbs hooked under the hem of your skin-tight dress to push it upwards, inch by inch, until it sits around your waist. For once, you manage to throw the man off his stride - his smirk disappears when he sees your bare pussy right in front of him. "You weren't wearing any panties... the whole day?" he asks, or rather states, as he looks up at you with pupils so big that his eyes are nigh black. Finally, it's your turn to smile at him. "Seems like it," you hum, running your fingers through his braids. Lewis doesn't respond, simply lifts one of your thighs over his shoulder instead. Both hands on your ass, he presses you into him, buries his face deep between your legs. When his hot tongue makes contact with your pussy for the first time, you gasp sharply - It's been so long that the feeling stuns you in the best way possible. Fuck, there's no holding back your moans - he's good at this, knows exactly where to put the pressure, when to be hard and when to be gentle about it. You're sure you're going to fall over any moment, but Lewis is strong, like a rock as he eats you up, holding you tightly so you don't get the chance to squirm away from it. You look up, mouth agape as you spot your obscene reflection in the mirror on the wall - Lewis on the floor, buried between your thighs while you hold on to his wide shoulders for dear life. It has to be the hottest image you've ever seen. "Oh my god- oh my..." you whimper, the rest becoming incomprehensible when he begins to suck your clit inbetween his lips. Lewis' groans aren't quiet at all, either. You can hear, no, feel them on you, and can't fathom how much he's enjoying himself, despite the fact that you haven't touched him once. Is this what it's supposed to be like?, you want to ask yourself, but can't grasp a single thought even if you tried with all your might, because your legs are trembling like crazy now, threatening to give out under you. "Mhmm, fuck- I'm..." you sob, but your body gets the word out before you mouth can. You cling onto his shoulders, his neck, gasping for air as you're coming on his mouth, and god is it blissful - one wave after the other, every throb more intense than the one before. You could swear you're seeing stars, have to remind yourself that the man between your legs will have to breathe at some point - although he doesn't seem too fussed about his position. He's still gently licking at you when your orgasm has ebbed away, eyes closed like you're the most delicious meal he's ever had.

Only when he's sure you've had enough does he lift his head to look up at you. His face is flushed, mouth glistening wet and parted, and it doesn't take long til his eyes drop back down again, so mesmerised by your scent, your taste. He runs his fingertips through your lips, and watches two of his fingers disappear as he dips them into you with ease. "Ah- Lewis," you sigh as he presses against a spot, and you'd lose yourself in the feeling if it wasn't for his phone that was ringing for - maybe the first time? Maybe the fourth? "Damn," he curses and closes his eyes, still working his fingers inside of you. "I gotta be at the stupid..." he mumbles, but trails off when he decides he'd rather nibble at one of your lips instead. "Baby..." you moan, your hand gripping his braids. The phone hasn't stopped ringing. "You better - ah - answer it..."

Lewis growls, annoyed - but gets up from the floor eventually. He shuffles over to the drawer where his phone lies, answers it with the one finger that isn't wet with you. As he leans over the dresser, you spot a more than decent looking bulge in his sweats. He must be rock hard in there, it makes you wonder how he's able to focus on the conversation right now. You hear something about post-Qualifying, and five minutes, and you're unbelievable.

"I'm so sorry," Lewis says after he's hung up, and comes back to give you a quick kiss on the temple. "I wish we could finish this properly, but they're waiting for me at the press conference." he explains while jogging to grab a pair of jeans from the bedroom, and some team shirt. "You're forgiven," you return and grin, as you tug at the hem of your dress. You probably look madly fucked-out right now, you're definitely gonna have to jump into the shower in the hotel and get his smell off of you. Lewis comes hurrying out of the bedroom, fighting to stuff himself into his jeans, and looks incredibly funny doing so. "You won't be giggling like that when I come back later," he threatens, but can't really sell it with the way he's smiling. "Is that a promise?" you tease, although you both know there is no later - You’ll have be at the hotel before your husband gets back and board a plane tomorrow. And Lewis will be driving a race car around Losail. He’s smiling from ear to ear as he pulls the shirt over his head, but hesitates for another moment even though he’s all dressed up and ready to go. Before he opens the front door, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close. “Listen,” he begins, “This is gonna sound a bit crazy, but is there any chance you can make it to Monaco in a week’s time?” he asks, brown eyes looking at you expectantly. “We could spend a day or two together, just you and I.” You bite your bottom lip. Can you? If your husband doesn’t insist on locking you up in Vienna for the next couple of days, it might actually work out… “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try every trick in the book to make it happen.” you say, and there’s a spark forming in Lewis’ eyes. He pulls you into him and kisses you on the lips, deep and hard.

---

@pedrohoe04 @mochachocolatteyaya @capela-miranda @iamasimpingh0e @bekindbecoolbeyou @urdadismabitch @furiouscaseofastudent @mrsjubelova @raaaaabzzz @honeybadgerr @memoriesat30 @hoebx @tomhollandisabae @dhlfastestlap @njrronaldo7 (hope I didnt forget anyone!)

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic

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