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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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of drunk regrets * fem!driver

the morning after vegas

what does one do when you have no recollection of getting married?

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver

notes: hi late update and that’s because i was crocheting the entire day lol

(series masterlist)

she hums turning around, her arm landing on something solid instead of a soft pillow. she opens an eye, flinching back when her eyes land on someone’s clothed back, then groans when nausea slowly hits her.

“who the fuck is this?”

the person next to her hums. they left their head before dropping it back into the pillow. “mm.”

she looks around to the best of her ability, snorting when she realises that amidst all her drunken antics from the night before, they didn’t even end up on the bed. they’re sleeping on the carpeted floor of her hotel room.

she lifts her head, ignoring the nausea hitting her all at once. the bed is empty.

a hand comes up to nurse her head, looking down at the body lying next to her with the blanket draped over their shoulder loosely. she brought somebody back to her hotel room with her? now that’s just a tabloid rumour waiting to blow up in her face when she opens up her phone.

she leans forward, wobbling slightly, as she tries to get a glimpse of their face. her eyes widen, landing a smack on their shoulder with some force. "what the hell are you doing here?"

"don't hit me, i'm trying to sleep."

"mick! you're in my hotel room!"

"what?" blue eyes are exposed to the dim lights of the room, disappearing once more when mick shuts his eyes. "what am i doing here?"

"how would i know?" she sighs, slowly lying back down on the ground. "i don't remember anything."

"we didn't do anything... did we?"

she looks down at herself, surprisingly dressed in her pyjamas without any recollection of even making it back into her hotel room in the first place. "i hope not."

"you hope?" mick cries, shaking his head in dismay. "this is not good."

"give me a second. i need to think," she sighs, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "start thinking. do you remember anything from last night?"

mick also sighs, simply shaking his head. he pulls the blanket over his body and snuggles back into his pillow. "no, but wake me up when you've figured it out. i'm really hungover right now, mate."

"really? you don't think i am?"

"i'm sure you are, but– what the hell is this on my finger? when did i get a mood ring?"

"you have a mood ring?" there's a momentary pause. "oh, look. i've got one too. when did i–"

they both sit up hurriedly, hissing in pain as they point at each other with a loud gasp. "no! are you serious? did we really do that? when did we even have the time to do that?"

mick cries. "my mother is going to kill me."

"mine will kill me – i'm barely 21, mick!"

"i'm going to american jail! you're not even legal here!" he rubs his eyes. “i don’t wanna go to jail here!”

she scrambles around for her phone, eyes widening at her notifications.

SUPERMAX you and mick???

RATSELL what's ur ig post about m8?

LOWGAN when u wake up, there's a cup of water and an advil on the bedside for u also, check ur instagram

PASTRY you did the funniest thing last night.

LILLIES thanks for the free pizza wish i could've been there for the actual ceremony though? it's ok, maybe at your next wedding

ALBONO please tell me you didn't

LAW SON i think u may have sent logan over the edge cuz wtf is bro doing in my hotel room ranting to charlotte and i at 5am

MICKEY ur asleep rn i can't sleep when do u think we should renew our vows??? oh no we got married!??!??!

BLYTHE mate u got married without me in attendance??? not saying i'm offended but like seriously?

THE BETTER SARGEANT who u married to? if it's logan istg omg is it mick? i saw ur instagram

LANCE

congrats!!!

if i’d known sooner, i’d have bought you a wedding gift before landing in vegas

i’ll get one before the last race i promise

SEBASTIAN ur very funny, do u know that? text me when ur up, we should talk

MUMMY wowww let me know what wedding gift to get you you grow up so fast, my love

PAPA what is all this ruckus i'm hearing between mum and blythe about you getting married? call me.

KRISTEN (PR) team meeting asap. bring the schumacher.

she glances at mick. "my dad's going to kill you."

mick turns to her, shoulders slumped with his eyes widened in panic. "i really really hope my mother gets to me first." he shakes his head and pats around the ground for his phone. "you know what? i'll just tell her myself."

“don’t bother,” she scoffs, lying back down in the pillow sprawled on the floor. “i vividly remember you calling gina when we were getting pizza that you married me in vegas.”

kristen chews on the inside of her cheek, scanning the group around her. "what is this? i only told you to bring mick."

the girl takes off the sunglasses on her face and sighs. "you think i didn't try telling them off? is this your first time meeting these losers? i– listen, i'm too hungover to tell them off, kristen."

"please let us stay?" max smiles, batting his eyelashes at the older woman. "i promise we'll be quiet. i'm just curious over the events of last night."

"so am i," kristen points out in a soft voice, moving her eyes over the pair seated on the couch on the other side of her table. at that point, they are the least of her concerns. "do you know the pr nightmare you just caused over a couple of drinks? do you have any idea the reckless thing you just did?"

"please don't shout," she says softly, eyes closing. "it was stupid, we know. in my defense–"

"they shouldn't have even let us in the chapel in the first place in that state," mick sighs, shaking his head disapprovingly. “so technically, whose fault is it, really?”

“both of yours for even coming up with the stupid idea in the first place!” logan screams, pointing at them in frustration. “you made a bad decision!”

kristen glances at logan, shooting him a side eye for disrupting her meeting. when logan shrugs, she simply looks back at the married pair her seats. “you’re not even 21! you did this in america too! god!”

“and they shouldn’t have permitted it knowing that i wasn’t 21!” the young girl shrieks, immediately defending herself. this is a hill she is willing to die on. “let’s focus more on the fact that they let two drunk idiots get married instead of the fact that i thought of it.”

“you came up with that idea?” max throws his head back, hissing softly as he shook his head. “why am i not surprised?”

“right? you have to tell her how stupid she is for this,” logan rambles in frustration. “seriously! you couldn’t go one year without making a stupid decision?

she rolls her eyes, glancing at mick from the side of her eyes. he flashes her an apologetic grin and she shrugs with another eye roll in response.

“i mean, you’re an adult. you can do whatever you want, but do you know how legally exhausting the entire process will be from here on out?” max continues, throwing his arms in the air. “knowing you, you won’t like it! there’s a lot of papers to sign!”

“and paper work to read!” logan adds on. “seriously!”

“god, (y/n), how could you be so stu–“

“i came up with the idea,” mick speaks out, turning to max and logan with a small smile. “it’s not her fault, you guys. come on. lay off her a little bit.”

she shoots him a questioning stare. “no, wait–“

mick laughs. “the deal at the pizza place just looked so good. i’m not excusing it because we were drunk, but cut us some slack.”

sebastian, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, finally stands up. he folds his arms over his chest. “it doesn’t matter who came up with the crazy idea to get married in vegas.”

“you’re still not mad?” logan raises an eyebrow. “there’s got to be some part of you that is.”

“how about let me conduct my meeting with my driver in peace? unless you want to take over my job of being her pr officer…” kristen speaks out, looking around the room to shut down any more forms of interruption. she looks back at her. “let me see the marriage certificate.”

“the what?”

“you signed one, didn’t you?“

she scrunches her nose and looks at mick. “did we sign one? i really can’t remember.”

“i don’t,” mick cuts himself off, looking just as clueless, “i literally blacked out last night. i don’t remember anything.”

sebastian beams, standing a little straighter. “i have it right here! look at it, kristen.”

he puts down a piece of paper on the table. the entire room watches the woman read over the paper, lips pressed together.

a small laugh bubbles from her, grabbing the certificate into her hands and bringing it closer to her face. her laugh gets a little louder, sebastian eventually joining her with a hand over his mouth.

“what is so funny?” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “all i can think about is the shopping spree i can’t have this month over the lawyer fees.”

“and the fact that i could end up in american jail for marrying a 20-year-old!”

kristen grins, slamming the certificate down onto the table. “it’s illegitimate.”

“what?”

“oh?”

“surprising turn of events!”

“illegitimate?”

a hand slams into the table, the youngest in the room jumping to her feet. “illegitimate? what about my free pizza? how is that illegitimate? i’m not a schumacher anymore?”

“you changed your name?” oscar pipes up, roaring in laughter, covering his face. this entire ordeal has been very amusing to him.

she turns around sheepishly with a small smile. “i was planning to. how cool would it be to be a schumacher?”

“what the fuck?” logan says to her, bewildered at the thought process. “you’re not married and you’re telling me that’s the only thing you’re concerned about? not being a schumacher in the eye of the law?”

mick giggles, looking up at her with an impressed expression. “schumacher does go along well with your name.”

“i know. should we get married for realsies after this weekend and legally change my name?”

“have you learned nothing from this?” kristen throws her hands into the air. she leans back into her seat, letting out the heaviest sigh of relief as she no longer has to engage with any legal teams. pr wise, it would be easy.

she shrugs, sitting back down into the cushioned seat. “don’t get drunk with mick in vegas.”

“first and last time i’m drinking that much with you,” mick adds on with a snort. though, there’s a small smile playing on his face as he looks at her.

they both know that won’t be the last time they’ll be sending their pr officers into a frenzy. they’re truly a force to be reckoned with.

and, it could have been worse.

“i paid for all the pizzas you ate and threw up last night,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “you owe me like $100.”

she nods. “okay, i’ll pay you. still no shopping spree for me this month, i guess.”

mick clicks his tongue, giving her a thumbs up. “i’ll pay him. consider it my wedding gift to you, wife.”

“she’s not your wife,” logan points out with an eye roll. “didn’t even get married in the first place, remember? illegitimate. not even a real certificate. never happened. literally no record of it.”

“i’m curious,” max furrows his eyebrows and lips pouted out. “how did you pull this off to make it seem real, seb?”

“i arrived to their ‘wedding’–“

“not real!”

“logan, cut it out.”

“–before them. i spoke to the receptionist before they arrived; they don’t let drunk people get married. i convinced her to give them the slot anyway just to teach these two a lesson.”

“impressive?” kristen smiles. “you just saved me a lot of paper work.”

“and mick the beating he’d get from her dad if it actually ever happened to go through.”

she smiles, leaning over the arm rest to whisper at mick. she taps him on the shoulder. “we should celebrate with ice cream.”

— bonus

they flood out of the office collectively, the young girl looking down at the mood ring around her ring finger. “we should keep the rings, shouldn’t we, mick? keepsake.”

“to remind you of your bad decision making?” logan questions.

“no, to piss you off.” she turns around and shoves him back gently. “of course, just to keep memory of the one time i was almost a schumacher!”

sebastian tilts his head. “you know you’ll still be you, right? even if you’re legally considered a schumacher? you won’t get his blue eyes.”

“i could,” she hums with a smile. “so, husband. watching the race from my garage tonight like a factory manufactured wag?”

“can’t, wife,” mick sighs. “i work for mercedes.”

“i could get you the second seat if you wanted.”

“you have the power to do that?” she nods. “that’s hot.”

“cut it out, you guys are making max uncomfortable!” oscar grunts, pushing the pair apart.

beside them, max has his fingers plugged into his ears and is humming softly to himself. “it’s not real, it’s not real. they’re not actually married,” he whispers to himself. “and it will never happen.”

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pinkflower2003 · 3 days

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STAY

Max Verstappen x Horner!Reader

Warnings : Angst, walking out on pregnant girlfriend? idk, dick Max? (honestly idk why i thought of this the thing just came into my head) Girlies i’m so sorry if this is shit this is my first time writing for someone if F1, this is just fiction idk all the facts.

Summary : As Christian Horners daughter, you were bound to meet Max Verstappen. What happens when you get pregnant when he is on the verge of becoming world champion and he doesn’t want to become a father? What happens when 3 years later after leaving each other’s lives, you get invited to the Grand Prix and he sees you again, this time with a little boy who looks just like him?

This is my first ever imagine on here so it’s probably really bad but i’m trying yall, we’re gonna work on it.

When you first met Max, you were both 18, he had started driving for red bull and you had started going to your dad’s, Christian Horner’s, work for some experience.

Racing wasn’t something you were exactly into, but it was practically your families life, so you grew up on it. At 18, you had decided to have a go at working in PR & media, and the RedBull F1 company was the perfect place to do that. Then you met Max, and your whole experience there changed.

Up until that point, you had never met a boy like him, he was so different, so passionate about the sport and you had to admit to yourself that you liked being around him, and he liked being around you.

And a relationship started around a year after you first met, a whole year of shy smiles to each other, hugs in excitement when he won, ones that lasted slightly longer than they should have. A year after you met was when Max finally had the guts to ask you out, and you, privately, got giddy with excitement.

He was your first everything. Your first date, your first kiss, your first boyfriend, and the first one you had sex with.

You couldn’t get enough of each other, you were utterly in love with him and everyone could see it. Max was never very good at showing his emotions, until it came to you, that’s when he completely changed.

Then one day, 3 years into your relationship, two pink lines turned up on a stick. You and Max had always been careful, a baby wasn’t what was wanted or needed at the time, you both knew that, Max was focusing on his racing career, he was determined to be the very best he could without letting anything getting in his way, and becoming at father at 21 would do just that.

But he deserved to know, and in your heart you hoped that the love the two of you shared would make everything okay, that it would all work out. But it didn’t.

Max freaked out, saying he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t be a father, he wouldn’t be a father. He struggled with his relationship with his father growing up, he had barely gotten over that, and now his own child? No, he refused. And so you left, saying goodbye to him, you left.

And so you went back home to England, leaving Max behind, starting a new life with your baby. It wasn’t until 3 years later that Max would finally see your baby.

Otto had just turned 3, and he was the light of your world, his baby blue eyes and light blonde hair in slight curls was the thing that got you through each day.

Dropping Otto off at nursery, you got a phone-call from your dad.

“Hey sweetheart,”

“Hey dad, everything okay?”

“Listen, i know you’re probably going to say no, and that’s fine, but how about you and Otto coming to the Grand Prix this year? I know how much he likes cars, maybe he’d like to come and see them. He always go on about it, I thought it might be a nice idea to bring him out.”

You sighed, you knew how much your dad wanted to involve his grandson in the sport. Christian would always sit and watch the races reruns with him on tv when he got home, and played Disney’s cars with him when they saw each other. You knew your dad just wanted to do something special for Otto, but was it really worth the risk of seeing Max again, going through all the heartache again.

“I don’t know dad-“

“Max won’t be anywhere near you guys Y/N, I promise, you won’t have to see him, he won’t even know you guys are there.” You sighed again, know your dad was really wanting you to do this.

“You promise?” you asked, almost like a child.

“I promise.”

“I’ll think about it.”

And so you thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it until it kept you up at night.

It was only 48 before the Grand Prix that you had decided to go, and it was a tough decision, but for the sake of your son’s happiness, you gave in.

Getting there, you were greeted by your dad and his wife, Geri, who both immediately pulled you and your son into a hug. Geri looked at your son, “he’s gotten so big! I remember the day he was born, it seems like just yesterday.”

You smiled at her, it was true, the first 3 years of his life flew by in the blink of an eye, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest, not only for yourself, but for Max who never got to witness it. He would never get to see his first steps, his first smile, all because he didn’t want to. Everything in you said to be angry at Max, and while you were, you felt sad for him, because how sad that he would never get to see how amazing your son was.

Your dad took Otto out of your arms, cuddling his grandson who had a lightening mcqueen backpack on and a redbull baseball cap on. “Ready Ottie? We’re gonna go and see some cars, you excited?”

Otto squealed in delight, he fist pumped the air. “Yeah! Cars that go zoom?” He asked, in his sweet little voice.

“Cars that go very zoom,” Christian replied to him.

Running into Max almost seemed inevitable, even when your dad had promised you that he would be no where near you or Otto, but you hadn’t expected it to be because of your son running up to him.

Before the race began, before Max got into his car, before he would even be able to realise you were there, your dad had taken you and Otto to see the car, knowing your little boy would love it. Christian had promised you Max wouldn’t be there, he would be off getting ready for the race and doing some media responsibilities.

And he was, you and your little boy were enjoying yourselves, Otto go the chance to sit in the car, you and your dad got photos with him, he was giggling none stop, and you couldn’t help but feel this is how it could’ve been, just with Max being the one to show his little boy around.

Taking Otto out the car, your dad put him on the ground, holding his hand to keep him there. You and your dad talked more about the car, admiring it. You both hadn’t notice that the door had opened, and Otto had run straight towards the person that had opened it.

“Y/N?” the voice said, causing you to turn around, going pale.

Max was stood there, your little boy at his feet, his little baseball cap falling slightly over his eyes from the impact of running into Max’s legs.

You stood there speechless, not sure what to say after all these years. Your dad ran to get Otto, who giggled as his grandad picked him up, while Max just stared at him.

“He-Is that?” Max said, breathless pointing to your child, but you just stood there, heart beating out of your chest.

Otto made grabbing hands towards you, trying to get out of his grandad’s arms, “mummy!” He screeched, and you took his out of your dad’s hands, gathering his things in your hands, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“I’m sorry, coming here was a mistake.” You said quietly, trying to walk out the door where Max was stood.

“No wait!” Max said, not wanting you to leave, but you were now angry. He didn’t want you to leave now, but it was okay three years ago? Your heart had shattered when he wanted nothing to do with your baby, and it seemed to have shattered all over seeing him once again. “What’s his name?” He asked, staring at your little boy, who had the same eyes as him.

“Otto Max Horner.”

You could see Max trying to calm his breathing, his hands slightly shaking. Otto looked at Max, giving him a goofy smile, not understanding what was happening.

“Stay,” Max said to the both of you. “Just stay under after the race. Please just let me talk to you, let me talk to him, just stay for the race.”

You just smiled at him, sadly.

“You should have asked me to stay three years ago Max, it’s too late for that now.”

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #red bull racing #max verstappen x reader #x reader #imagine #red bull f1

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rene-spade · 1 month

Note

Ok but how are the crazy f1 dads with their daughters dating? Who on the grid do they like?

oof this is a loaded ask bc they really are all out of it 😭 they just love their babies fr

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! kimi | growing up räikkönen!

FIRST OF ALL kimi doesn’t really vibe with most people in general, let alone anyone who’s trying to get with his little lumienkeli. kimi was lucky to raise a little girl similar to him, who listens when he places a no dating rule lasting until she’s 21 (as far as he knows anyways). despises the guys on the grid trying to get with her; he was one of them once so he thinks of them as animals, especially leclerc who’s known for his brow-raising dating life. also hates pierre but he already didn’t fw him bc he’s french. he is SLIGHTLY more easy going with women around his daughter so any grid guys with girlfriends might have an advantage. he finds that he wants the im-a-dog-and-ill-do-whatever-my-girl-says type for his daughter, but he dislikes unintelligence. he does not like anyone on the grid, but he best tolerates:

mick schumacher!

oscar piastri (+lily)

he vibes with kika okay but hates pierre 💀

bonus! he actually really likes max but his hate/distrust for jos overpowers that so he’s not letting that happen

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! jenson | growing up button!

OK SO JENSON is a bit less intense than kimi, however he is much more publicly affectionate with his daughter which means that he has definitely gone on public rants about how no man is good wen enough for his baby. that being said, he is a decent judge of character so he doesn’t hate anyone on the grid. but he gets real serious when he notices people hitting on his baby. this is mostly bc he was def a whore when he was younger so he isn’t quick to trust guys who are living the same lifestyle he was. he kind of turns on dad-mode when he notices anyone eyeing her up. but alas, he raised his own mini-me, who attracts just about everyone, and who likes to flirt back. it takes warming up to, but he can see himself fine with most of the drivers. he most prefers people who are friendly and who didn’t act like him when he was in f1 like:

george russel

daniel ricciardo

lando norris

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! fernando | growing up alonso!

NANDO IS DEFINITELY one of those guys who thinks he’s a “cool dad” bc he’s a young father and his daughter is his best friend. but in reality he’s one of those intense, fiercely overprotective dads who have impossibly high expectations for his daughters partner. 100% the type to punch a mechanic for saying gross things about his princesa. he’ll be calm and in a good mood then someone on the grid (or any man ever) mentions his daughter and he’s like 😐. UNLESS! it’s carlos. carlos is the only one who meets his standards, sorry to literally everyone else. but even with carlos, he can be a little stern just to get his point across about not messing with his only child. he just feels the need to personally approve of his daughter’s partner bc he’s hyper-paranoid about someone hurting her. his list looks something like:

carlos sainz!!!

that’s it

i mean if you put a gun to his head maybe max bc he’s a winner but he needs to learn to speak spanish so-

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! jos | growing up verstappen! unfortunately

FUCK JOS VERSTAPPEN obviously, however this man is one crazy dad who we have to discuss. his love for his youngest daughter is wild and unpredictable, and it’s very different from the way he treats his other children. his baby has some extreme one-sided beef with him that he’s smart enough to know about, so he isn’t too forceful about bonding, it’s definitely more desperate since max found success in f1 and she sticks with her big brother now. her entire life, he’s never allowed her to date, and when he found out about her first secret bf, he got arrested for trying to kill the kid so. he has IMPOSSIBLY high standards for his daughters partner and definitely wants her to marry within the f1 community, but he hates losers and despises half the grid.

suddenly he’s charles leclerc’s biggest fan !

lewis hamilton but he’ll never admit it

MAYBE carlos sainz

bonus! max obvi likes daniel ricciardo best but jos doesn’t fw him like that

♤ ♤ ♤

Ren

#dark! f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #obsessive f1 #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 oc #f1 reverse harem #daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #kimi räikkönen x daughter reader #dad! jenson button #dad! fernando alonso #dad! kimi räikkönen #jos verstappen

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munson-blurbs · 9 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home.

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal.

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos.

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day.

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface.

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight.

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work.

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus.

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you.

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two.

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck.

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day.

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates.

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite.

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling.

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place.

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water.

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on.

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too.

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light.

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.”

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.”

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers.

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.”

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break.

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get.

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference.

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief.

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe.

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning.

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.”

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think.

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him.

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs.

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key.

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again.

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings.

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right. You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson.

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!”

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again.

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort.

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head.

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.”

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida.

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys.

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand.

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?”

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat.

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that.

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one.

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning.

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful.

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then.

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion.

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.”

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment.

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns.

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner.

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this.

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister.

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent.

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations.

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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babybinko · 10 months

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Made a TON of Venture Bros. genderbends :D

Bonus + some of my thoughts on all the designs under the cut:

This is from a conversation I had with a friend about how Dermott and Hank would behave in this AU (its exactly the same as normal)

Ok now some thoughts on my design process

Hank: I think I drew Hank's face actually perfect, I made her so cute. I also feel like there's a common trope with genderbends where athletic characters get short hair so I gave her long hair and gave Dean short hair. I actually think the longer hair fits her perfectly. ALSO I LOVE HER BOOTS.

Dean: I gave goth Dean more Accessories than normal because normal goth dean had no fucking swag (it was besties idea to make her pants ripped). Even before I started drawing college Dean I knew I was giving her those legwarmers you can pry them from my cold dead hands. Same with the legwarmers I knew the first dean design needed a Jean skirt its just the vibes.

Dermott: The millisecond I even thought about doing Dermott I KNEW she would be 2012 grunge girl aesthetic. Gigantic shoplifting energy. Love her.

Rusty: I wanted her to look like a mean mom and I believe I accomplished that goal. Absolutely had to add the glasses strap. Very Jamie Lee Curtis.

Brock: I drew the one with the hair down first and my friends preferred the one with the hair up so I just did both. I wonder if she was a cheerleader in college and killed another girl on her cheer squad by throwing her too far/dropping them.

21: I drew 21 then I realized I had just drawn myself with bangs. Also I drew her with a blunt because there's an episode where 21 has a joint in his mouth the whole episode the other henchmen are standing in stupid poses in the background and its maybe one of my favorite bits in the entire show its so stupid.

24: 24 took several attempts to get the hair right I kept drawing it short and curly and my friend told me to give her Elaine from Seinfeld hair which I think ended up working really well.

Monarch: One of my favorites I did. I feel like this one you can definitely tell how Bayonetta completely re-arranged my brain chemicals as teenager. I love the hip cutouts, I made a tummy cutout to kind of mimic how Dr.GF's monarch costume is kinda skimpy. It's also hard to tell because of the cowl but I tried to give her like a finger waves hairstyle.

Dr.Gf: I tried a bunch of different hats but my friends liked the brimless hat the most and completely doomed him into looking like a Bellhop (more than he already did). Its giving Tyler the Creator at the 2020 Grammys. I still think he's cute though :)

Billy: I really didnt want to just draw her in a suit because thats boring. The show always gives me 60s vibes despite being set in modern day (I'm sure its on purpose) and I definitely channeled that with Billy. It took a couple tries to find a balance between fitting her body but still looking adult but I think I got it in the end.

Pete: YAYYYY PETE YAAAAYY!!! ^_^ Shes so Ava Max Coded. I also gave her giant buckles on her shoes to match his stupid ass one two buckle my shoes ass shoes.

Triana: Very much looks like putting emo boy in the Pinterest search bar. I made her thigh highs into his sleeves and I gave him square bangs like her.

Dr. Orpheus: NEEDED to make her a hot milf and I did. Its a little hard to see but her shirt has lace over the open part. I love the hair Jewerly at the bottom of her braid. :)

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 27

part 1 | part 26 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use. short, fluffy update today to round out ch. 6; be back after the weekend to start ch. 7

In hindsight, accidentally hot boxing Eddie’s van while they were all already drunk was… maybe not the best idea.

Steve has no idea how they got here; blinked and time did the thing again, but now it’s three in the morning and Gareth’s conked out with a black eye in the front passenger seat and the rest of them are sprawled on top of each other like puppies in the back of the van — Eddie with his head in Robin’s lap so she can braid his hair, Steve using Eddie’s chest as a pillow, Max curled up like a sleeping cat in the crook of Steve’s bent knees.

With his eyes closed, Steve feels like he’s fallen into some dark, glittering void, purple-blue-black swirls of light dancing behind his eyelids to the syrupy beat of a metal ballad Eddie’s playing at the lowest volume. Eddie hums along in a low, soft rasp, and Steve’s head moves with the swell of each breath; gentle rocking rise and fall, luring Steve away from shore. Somewhere curious and strange. Deep ocean, dark waters. His thoughts float by like jellyfish.

Eddie’s warm through his t-shirt.

“Still alive down there, Sneeze?” Eddie asks. He’s carding his fingers idly through Steve’s hair, rings catching on the strands, tugging a little on his scalp.

“Feels good,” Steve hums. Wait a minute. “Did’you jus’ call me Sneeze?”

“No?” Eddie snorts. “Just called you Steve, sweetheart.”

“I’m absolutely gonna start calling you Sneeze, though,” Robin chimes in, pitching her voice all low and stupid. “‘Yes, hello, I’m Robin and this is my very best friend, Sneeze Handkerchief.’”

Eddie lets out a cackle and immediately joins in on her game of royally fucking up Steve’s name.

Steve closes his eyes again, lets himself drift out into the weird purple-blue-black-glitter magic slime swirl situation. Sloshy and dark and warm and nice. It’s just nice: Eddie’s breathing, full and slow; Robin’s laugh like cracked church bells. He likes hearing them get along even when he can’t make out the words.

He likes it less when he can make out the words. He wades back to himself for a moment, cracks one eye open and finds them red-faced and crying laughing over “Edgy Mustard and his neighbor, Sven Hamburger” and mumbles, “You’re both such fuckin’ dorks.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dork, you fuckin’ dork,” Max mutters in response, turning over with a soft snore.

“Oh, my god,” Eddie whispers, “did that kid just shit talk you in her sleep?”

“She’s incredible,” Robin coos. “Sven, we may have to reassess your status as my best friend; I’m obsessed with her.”

Steve rolls over and faceplants into Eddie’s stomach with a pouty harrumph. “Leamme alone, you bullies, ’m sleepin’.”

—

part 28

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment if you want to be added (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged; if you’re already on the list you’re good you can ignore this message lol)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #max mayfield #gareth stranger things #this was supposed to be a little cut content bonus scene but i like it too much it’s staying lol #we’ll get angsty and struggly again in ch 7 don’t worry just let sven hamburger have this #my writing #my fic

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folkloresthings · 1 month

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❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track two: wendy.

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

. . . SEPTEMBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. september twenty—seventh.

liked by niallhoran, lizzymcalpine and 761,320 others

yourusername first song from the good witch! i wrote wendy after a day huddled under my duvet rewatching every adaptation of peter pan that exists. it’s all about falling for lost boys and trying your best to see the best in them even though your heart tells you better. it’s about not making sacrifices even though you want to, learning to put yourself first despite how much love might blind you to do the opposite. what about wendy!

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user STOP these songs are going to tear lando apart i just know it

charlottesiine wendy darling 🤍 lock the windows!!!!

user is lando her lost boy 😭😭😭

REWIND… AUGUST 2022.

for just under three years, heaven was all you knew. lando was a dream, all wrapped up in his love for you and forever devoted to your attentions. maybe the effect of being locked up together for months as the pandemic reigned had given you both a taste of stockholm syndrome and left you with nothing else to focus on. or maybe it was just time.

the beginning of summer break was when you felt the first shift. every other year, lando whisked you away on a holiday to the sunniest place he could find. he wined and dined you, making up for all of the lost time between the racing season and touring. only, this time, he had booked a trip to ibiza with max and his friends.

“what about me?”

“i don’t see them that often either, you know that,” he defended.

it was understandable, you supposed. he liked those kinds of places, you didn’t. so while he partied there, you spent a little extra time in the studio. but then it was a week in spain with carlos, another in croatia with daniel. the compromise came in the form of monaco. you would take some time off, leaving your london flat behind, and come stay with lando in his monte carlo apartment.

you were all excitement, until you realised your time there was scheduled around lando’s meetings and dj sets and boys night out. the desperation to be close to him trumped all else and so you followed him around like a lost puppy, forever blinded by the sweet kisses and doting promises.

“i’ll take you to dinner tomorrow night, just me and you,” lando would murmur in your ear, letting your frustration subside long enough to let him go back to his friends.

it took that whole month in monaco to realise that this is what lando wanted: someone to follow after him and live for the short term magic, only to be let down by the endless maybe’s, trusting that he’ll catch you when you fall. it terrified you, and yet your undying love kept you playing along.

“i have a show in brixton next week,” you told him on your last morning in monaco, shoving the last of your clothes into your case. “it’s low-key, for some of the really devoted fans. i got management to put your name on the list.”

lando zipped up the last of your belongings, soft thumbs caressing your cheeks. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you grinned happily, uncaring for whatever doubt sank in your stomach when it was just the two of you, his lips soothing on your warm skin. he loved you, truly.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—first.

liked by nicolacoughlan, hozier and 780,629 more

y/nupdates y/n in brixton tonight! 21/8 🤍

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user1 the intimate shows w her are my fav 🥺🥺🥺

user2 mother!

user3 was lando there? i heard she gave him a shoutout

⤷ user2 she sang feels like this and dedicated it to him!

⤷ user4 yeah but it seemed like she was looking out for him in the back when she said it and it didn’t look like he was there ☹️

⤷ user5 ouch 🥲

“are you alright?”

it’s the first thing you ask when he answers the phone, and you know it’s horrible that you hope something bad has happened — but it’s better than the truth that weighs heavy on his lips.

“i’m so sorry love, i meant to call you earlier,” lando groans through your speaker, your dressing room door clicking closed behind you. still in your stage outfit, you await the excuses. “the flight was delayed and then cancelled. i would get the next flight but i’ve got that thing tomorrow evening.”

“oh, i see.” your eyes sting.. “are you back in the apartment now?”

“huh? oh yeah, i just got an uber back from the airport and i’m ordering some food now.”

if you had the energy to scoff and argue you would, for you can hear the distant bouncing of club music on the other end of the phone, most likely muffled by where lando has hidden away in the bathroom.

“that’s nice,” you whisper, picking anxiously at the skin around your nailbed. “well, the show went really well. i think that—”

“babe, you’re breaking up. i’ll call you tomorrow okay?” lando’s voice raises as the bathroom door on his side opens to let the loud music peek in. “i’m sorry again.”

“okay, bye,” you sigh, but the call ends before he can even hear it. sinking into the small sofa of the dressing room, curling into yourself, the tears flow over your perfect makeup — fading the lipstick you’d chosen just for him.

you couldn’t live like this, is what your friends told you when you spent your evening crying on their sofa. but you loved him, and you would follow him to the ends of the earth. you could be married soon, waiting up at night for the sound of the door unlatching. it’s a life you could have and you knew it — even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—second.

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 722,784 others

yourusername a week in neverland

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user1 boyfriend lando pics!!!

carlossainz55 so great to see you!👸

⤷ yourusername time for you to come to london now!!!!

⤷ carlossainz55 ✈️🏃🏻💨

user2 ofc lando brings her to the track even on summer break 🙄😅

landonorris my wendy darling ❤️

⤷ user3 does this make lando peter pan?

⤷ yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user4 still sad we didn’t see lando at the london show :(

writers note: did i promise this new chapter ages ago? yes but just be happy you guys have it now 🫶❤️‍🔥

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

#💋 HEAVEN KNOWS.#lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris drabble #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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harrywavycurly · 1 year

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Summary: You met Eddie on a night out at the Hideout and maybe it was his big brown eyes, the way he kept telling you how pretty you look or the tequila shots but one thing led to another and you two hooked up in the back of his van. Now in a perfect world that would’ve been the end of it because that’s the thing with one night stands you normally don’t have to see them ever again. Well expect in your case you’ll be seeing a lot more of Eddie, because just three weeks after your little late night meeting in his van you find out you’re pregnant. So this series is all about how you and Eddie navigate being soon to be parents and also getting to know each other…let the fun begin!✨

A/N: This is going to be a twist on an enemies to lovers type thing! Also if you’d like on the tag list for this series let me know.

Status: Completed🖤

Conversations: Here

Instagrams: Here

Fics: Here

Extras: Here

*This is mainly a texting series and you’ll find everything in order below*

Part 1: Not In Love bonus fic of night you met here

Part 2: Stress Eater

Part 3: Mean It

Part 4: Kids bonus text with Steve here

Part 5: What’s Wrong? bonus convo with Wayne here

Part 6: Seven Up instagram extras here

Part 7: Baby Shit Eddie talking to the baby here

Part 8: Backseat Eddie texting Steve here bonus convo with Eddie here

Part 9: Curly Hair convo with Eddie when he picks you up here

Part 10: Nuggets bonus convo here

Part 11: Apartments bonus convo with you and Wayne here

Part 12: Halloween bonus convo with Eddie and Wayne here

Part 13: Friends bonus convos with Eddie here

Part 14: I’m Trying bonus convo with Eddie here

Part 15: Shoes

Part 16: Soothing

Part 17: Moment bonus convo with Eddie here

Part 18: Peach Rings bonus convo with Wayne and Eddie here

Part 19: The Chair

Part 20: Bestfriend

Part 21: Max

Part 22: Sagittarius bonus texts with Steve here

Part 23: Coming Home

Part 24: Lair

Part 25: Time Flies

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charles-leclerizz · 1 month

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Rapid Fire Challenge: Aisha vs. Max

Aisha and Max go head-to-head in a rapid-fire question challenge. With only seconds to answer each question, they'll reveal fun facts, preferences, and more. Who will come out on top?

reading time : 8 mins 15 seconds

word count : 1.6 k [ 1650 words ]

warnings : swearing, lewd and suggestive wording, crack, not proof read

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

" What the fuck are you wearing?" Max looked Aisha up and down, his trademark red bull can clattering into the hollow bin next to him as he watched Aisha run a confused hand down her front before glancing cautiously back up at him.

She arched a brow at him and tugged at her strapless top, " clothes ? "

Max snorted and reached out to poke her slightly exposed mid-driff, " or lack thereof . "

Was the aggravating man wrong? Perhaps not.

In Aisha's opinion, it was a perfectly splendid ensemble. Another one of her brand parter's had generously offered her a two piece outfit, a long, flowing silk skirt that shimmered a classic Porsche silver- paired with a tight cotton, corset top that accentuated her chest with a ruffled middle piece of taffeta.

To others, it may seem over the top.

" You have the same outfit everyday. it's like you're trying to be an NPC ." Aisha plucked at his red-bull jersey with a scrunched up nose, " it's not my fault that brands love to gift me pretty things and you… well . " she fluttered her fingers at his slightly-looser-than-normal tight jeans.

" Hmm .. " he hummed, tempted to flick the stack of dainty, amrapali golden chains that sat delicately on her collarbones, " whatever you say. I'm sure Lando appreciates your outfit . "

" And what's that meant to mean ? "

" - Excuse me ? "

" Just saying - "

" Saying what ? Are you just jealous that I can pull of colours unlike you, who stays about monochromatic as a pair of granny panties . "

" Woah-h-h, big words for miss 'I'm here cause I couldn't get a modeling gig ' "

" - Excuse me ? "

" Oh, just because I have the assets - " she gestured at her breasts and face, "- to do modelling, you're bitter ? don't worry, we can get you a push up bra from Forever 21. You'll fit right in"

" Excuse me ? "

" - What ? "

" We're ready for you, " an onset assistant, who looked too scandalised for her own good, motioned for them to step into the filming room.

They mouthed silent insults and unnecessarily pointed to one another, as they pushed through the inconveniently small door.

" And… we're stuck. this is all your fault max . " aisha hissed, crossing her arms as selflessly as she could muster whilst being pressed chest to chest with an equally uncomfortable Dutchman who propped a palm up- just above the crown of her head on the short doorway.

" my fault ? " he retorted, face growing redder with each second they spent sharing breath, " you're the one with india's remaining crown jewels on her person ."

" well maybe if your entitled ancestors didn - "

" oh shut up, it was the british and you know it . "

Luckily, the assistant had noticed their predicament and rushed over to undo the deadbolt lock to the second door, allowing the two to stumble away from each other.

They had thankfully remained silent as the rest of the filming crew grew more and more entertained with their squabbling, merely following the polite instructions and taking their seats as denoted by the white, masking tape markers stuck onto the plush seats.

" ROLLING "

" Welcome back everyone to a new season of formula 1 ! " the chirpy interview babbled to the largest camera before turning to the drivers who sat in line with her, watching her neutrally as they both accepted small, clip on microphones.

" Today we have … " she trailed off, giggling at Aisha who struggled to slip on the clasp of the tech in her hand, the plastic mechanism clacking obnoxiously at each failed attempt.

" Max, from our very own red bull garage ," she turned to max, who was already set himself up and was now sitting straighter in his tufted, indigo seat. He waved at the camera and politely smiled.

The interviewer glanced at Aisha as she victoriously gasped and raised her hands happily when the microphone stayed put, tucked between her skin and top, " … and aisha, rookie of the season down from porsche . "

Aisha waved at the camera, a serene smile playing on her lips.

" We're here to play a quick fire round of questions with the grids current champion , " she gestured to max, " and this years fresh meat . " she pointed her stack of cards at aisha.

" I'll be asking you both questions about each other, and whoever guesses correctly the fastest, will win a point . it's all about testing if your racing chemistry translates to real-life friendship ! "

" What friendship ? " max deadpanned, fiddling with his fingers.

" Can we do this one thing without you letting people know you hate me ? or is it too hard for the 3X world champion to multi-task ? "

The interviewer's eyes ping-ponged between them before her grin became artificially wider and she screeched a shrill, " Let's begin ! "

" alright max, what is aisha's favourite track to race ? "

the driver jumped at his name and the camera lens zoomed into his determined expression as he glanced between aisha's anticipatory face and the air, as if he were begging the particles for the answer.

" one second "

" she's said this before.. " he tried, clapping his hands nervously.

" i have, " aisha shrugged, egging him on.

" it was one of those times where she wouldn't shut up. "

" two seconds "

" come on max, it's so easy, i've raced there in f2 as well ... "

" yeah- cause i had the f2 races on while i was training, "

" three seconds "

" wow you're bad at this, " aisha huffed out, landing back against her chair with a relaxed flop.

max bounced his knee, forcibly shutting his eyes and harshly pressing his fingers into them as he pieced together his answer, " it's... shit... is it ?.. suzuka ? "

"- oh for fuck sake ! "

" - you are correct ! one point to max "

CURRENT SCORE : 0 - 1

" okay, aisha, If max could race in any era of Formula 1, past or present, which one would she choose ? "

" how come i get the piss hard one ? "

" cause you'll never actually get hard otherwise.." max mumbled.

" oh fuck off. "

" language guys, our editors aren't paid enough to censor all of this ."

aisha hooked her ankles together before leaning forward and hummed thoughtfully, " maybe... i don't think he's even mentioned this..." she plucked at her dangling earring as she continued to oscillate in recollection.

he shrugged, " i don't think i have actually."

" one second "

" wait... wait..." aisha hurried out, holding her palm out, " i have to choose wether he's too egotistical for my geuss.."

" oh please, " max sassed, " take your time, i'm sure my ego has alot to dissect. "

aisha scrunched up her face sourly, " yeah it does- like your unsolved daddy issues. "

" always the daddy issues ." he threw his hands up, " atleast be creative."

" two seconds "

" okay okay, hmmm, the 2021 season ? " aisha screwed her eyes shut, just incase she was wrong, " he would love to relive his first WDC . "

" that is..." the interviewer patted her legs quickly, continously creating a monotonous beating sound, " correct ! point to aisha . "

CURRENT SCORE : 1 - 1

" last one for max, if he gets this one, he wins, if not, then aisha gets a chance . "

max nodded determinedly, his mouth set in a hard line, "ready."

" wow, okay, " the interviewer gawked at his statue-like intensity, " uhm, what is aisha's pre-race ritual . "

aisha kicked her chin up, ready to watch max blubber over his last question, nobody knows her pre-race ritual, she was diligent enough to keep it hidden.

" so, i know she calls her parents around.. an hour before the race, " he paused mid-way to grin like a cheshire at her increasingly suspicious look, " and, i also know she has a playlist she listens to, mostly hozier.. but, without fail she.." max snaps his fingers, the final peice flickering to life like a broken tube light, "... she always.. can i say this ? "

aisha's face popped, cheeks flushing dangerously quickly, " can he ? "

" i.." the interviewer looked out the small tech crowd behind the camera who all gave her the same, confused shrug, ushering her to continue, " i assume so."

" she always wears.. ehm.. a pair of white underwear ." he mumbles the last phrase, avoiding eye-contact with anyone within the room whilst scratching the back of his neck.

" max ! " aisha smacked his shoulder in outrage, "wha- i mean why- but how ? " she spat out, her words merging within eachother until they tumbled out in an unintelligble spew.

" we didn't get that, she wears what ? "

" white.. undergarments, " max hesitantly answered.

the interviewer blinked a few times before gulping heavily and clearing her throat, " well thats a gross violation ! but let's just gloss over that. "

CURRENT SCORE : 1 - 2

" and for the sake of not continuing this hell-game, max is the winner. congratulations. " she clapped her hand gently against her queue cards.

"yeah.. well done.. bro " aisha muttered, dissociating from her surroundings to protect herself from further embarrassment that may just allow her already erratic heart to jump out of her ribcage.

" i don't feel like a winner," max joined her monotone lilt, eyes wide and wet, maintaing an unwwavering stare at the white wall that stood proud behind the myriad of wires.

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