#the customers loved me so so soooo much

[narutomaki]

would it be possible for you to apply and interview and then make a decision if they offer you the job? that way maybe during the interview you can find out a little bit more about the job and then decide once you actually know if its a possibility? i struggle with long shifts too and talking to the interviewer a little bit and getting to know the role always helped me decide if the pay was worth the physical strain

I applied 😭

I did talk it through with my career coach first too and we went through it and shockingly my frustration at her not getting it (it is, from what I have seen, mostly helping people fill out and submit forms and ensuring identity and accuracy on them) (she was asking me "Tell me what you can see" which to me means "Answer me in theory" and I was answering her in theory from my existing knowledge base and she was going back like "Well its going to be more involved than that and it wont be judt that and you're going to need to do more research about all these things" and I'm like I Know I Thought We Were Doing Scenarios. but I digress) and then I did spend another 2 hours doing research and interview prep after submitting it.

Despite. Yknow. It being guaranteed I won't hear from them IF I EVEN GOT AN INTERVIEW for another 8-10 weeks (4-8 weeks from posting closure). But again. I digress.

This is. Unfortunately. The kind of job I want and am good at (providing information, helping people find information, processing and filling information, and processing transactions).

Except the options for employment are "full time Monday to Friday with weekends as needed lol lmao teehee" and "our company is making this posting so we can hire Greg's kid shhh for after school a couple times a week" and this one which is. a union job that is DEFINED. AS A COMPETITION. MAN....

I just want a job that is this but they think I'm a silly little guy and hire me on the spot for 5 hrs a day 3 times a week. Is that so hard to ask? (Apparently yes.)

Any way I think they have chairs and high desks with the option to stand so I'm gonna go whimper and whine at their door near closing so they hire me.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking abt tattoo artist!sugu and the codependent relationship he forms with his (least) favorite customer

[dragscore]

with every breath that i am worth, here on earth, i'm sendin all my love to you // so if you dare to second guess, you can rest, assured that all my love's for you.

late vday gift for my baby bean ♥

[incandesang]

my boss just called me ‘a nasty, arrogant little creature.’ sir it isn’t the 19th century tf

[irisbaggins]

Trying to trouble-shoot a customer over a phone is always an exercise in "stick to Norwegian you gremlin" for me. I so badly want to use English lingo for things, but my poor customers barely understand what I'm saying in Norwegian, let alone English! The amount of times I end up apologising because my explanations are shit are numerous, and most of the time my customers are really nice about it.

Although, I do loathe having to trouble-shoot networking over the phone. It's a pain in the ass, and it's difficult to find the problem when there are so many moving parts to a network.

At least the customer and I can joke around a little and make the process more pleasant for the both of us. Especially when the problem may have been a wonky cable, and not something much more expensive that must be replaced.

[mangostar]

found a container that has my old lps.... gonna go through it tmr 

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I think my boss really likes me, guys..... Look at these massive tits. I feel so gross having boobs so big. People look at me like a perv just for having them. Women ask me every day if I consider getting a reduction, telling me how ridiculous they look. Men constantly ask me if I do porn and play with them without asking.... I don't really mind, I guess. It's kind of fun getting groped in public, in a naughty way. Maybe I should do porn? I bet my boss would love that.....

So, I started my new job as a waitress at this fancy restaurant connected to a hotel by the waterfront. One day I mentioned to my boss that I'm not getting great tips, I was blaming the rich people for being stingy..... He laughed and handed me a bottle of pills. He said to take two a day, and I'll get way better tips. I thought they were uppers or something..... The bottle is unlabeled but I looked up the pills. They're a fertility drug that greatly increases breast size and libido. Everyone that takes it says the effect on libido clouds judgment and makes anything pleasurable feel so good you don't want to stop..... I can safely say that part is true.

I went from almost flat-chested, hating to flirt with customers or random guys, to having these.... giant things, and constantly wanting attention and sex. I rub up on guys, I flirt, I bounce my breasts for customers, I even flirt with other girls.... I get amazing tips, and even end up selling my body to a lot of clients. They ask me to join them in their hotel rooms. They take one look at my body now and assume I'm a whore, so I happily validate their assumptions..... I fuck so many men, even outside, in restrooms, in their cars in random parking lots....

Sometimes we get found out and the men never get in trouble. The cops handcuff me and roughly push me against their squad cars. I usually just have to get passed around by the precinct for a couple hours, then I'm on my way.... Fuck, I used to be such a pure, smart, normal girl..... Now I'm a total trainwreck, but at least I have money. This libido just isn't doing me any favors. I just decided to throw out my birth control. Why? Because I 'want to see' how I'll look with a belly full of sextuplets or maybe even more. I don't want to be a mom, I just want a giant mountain of a belly full of kids. God I'm turning into such an idiot, I love it soooo much. ❤️"

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Puppy Love

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a bit suggestive at some parts, language, more fluff

author’s note: this was totally meant to be a small lil blurb but then i ended up getting sucked into it and well…it ended up being a tiny bit longer than i thought.  also, there’s some legal jargon in here that i totally might’ve misused, don’t hate me! i’m not a lawyer i swear! anywho, i’m still pretty new to the whole writing thing so please go easy on me because i’m a crybaby

p.s. i stopped writing it in order to keep the word count from going through the roof, but if you guys would like a part two picking up right where this leaves off then i’m soooo into that, i really love these two!

word count: 5.3k

Let it be known, Eddie Waylon Munson was not a dog person.  This doesn’t mean that Eddie is a cat person either really, he’d actually be more inclined to categorize himself as a fish person, really.  Eddie can hardly take care of himself, who in the hell would think he could take care of another living being?

Steve fucking Harrington.  That’s who.

Under any other circumstances, Eddie would’ve turned him down in a heartbeat when he asked him to watch his Golden Retriever, Captain, for a week while he’s on vacation with his parents. 

“Dude, c’mon.  You owe me one.”

Eddie scoffed.  “Since when do I owe you one?”

“I–There must be something I’ve done for you…” Steve sighs ,”Haven’t I been letting you swim in my pool free of charge?”

“Yeah, me and every single other member of our party.”  Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, determined to stick to his answer of a hard no.

“Fine,” Steve huffs.  “What if I gave you three hundred bucks for it?”

At this new piece of information, Eddie perked up.  

“Well, well, well Harrington.  Why didn’t you just lead with that?”  The two boys shook hands, and that was that.

Eddie wishes he could’ve said no, but he unfortunately really needed the extra cash.  The weed business had been slow due to the fact that his usual richie-rich-asshole customers are all off “summering” with their rich families wherever it is that the rich families go to do that shit.  

Eddie figured that he could handle this.  Steve assured him that Captain is well trained thanks to the expensive trainers that his parents hired, plus Eddie would get to stay at Hotel de Harrington while he watched the dog.  Eddie will mind his business, Captain will do his own thing, and Eddie would be $300 richer at the end of it all.  Sweet digs and three hundred bucks is just something Eddie doesn’t have the heart to pass up these days.  

–

Eddie always manages to forget just how gi-fucking-normous the Harrington’s mansion house is.  As Steve leads him through the foyer and into the numerous hallways, Eddie figures he must look like he’s stepping into a house for the first time.  His jaw drops a little at the seemingly priceless artwork that hangs from the walls, the crystal vases lined up on shelves, and the expensive looking furniture placed meticulously all around the house.  He hopes to hell that he doesn’t find some way to fuck something up while he’s shacking up here.  

“I can’t believe you live in this art museum, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs.  “Yeah, it’s all nice and fancy until you think about the fact that all the dumb shit decorating this place could probably feed a small village.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, then hears an excited bark from the other room.

“Okay, time to meet the man himself.  Just warning you, he’s a hugger.”  Steve winks at Eddie and jogs to unlock the door to the backyard.  As soon as the glass door slides open, Eddie sees a blur of blonde fur coming towards him, and then all he can see is the ceiling.

Eddie quickly learns that this is because Captain has knocked him right on his ass.

Captain squirms on top of Eddie, trying his hardest to lick him all over his face and neck while Steve is bent over cackling at the whole ordeal. 

“Okay, okay buddy.  Thanks so much,” Eddie says unenthusiastically while glaring at Steve.  He gently shoves Captain off of him and stands back up, only to look down and realize that his all black outfit is now covered in little golden dog hairs.  This only causes Steve to laugh harder.

Steve straightens back up after being hunched over and sighs, “I warned you man,” then walks past Eddie and into the laundry room, clapping him on the shoulder as he goes.

Captain trots happily behind the boys as Steve shows Eddie where Captain’s food and water bowls are, how much to feed him and when, and where his leash and harness are.  Steve assures him that he doesn’t have to take Captain on a walk or anything if he doesn’t feel like it (he so does not), but he does have a grooming appointment scheduled on the day the Harrington’s set off on their vacation.

Eddie huffs at this revelation.

“I know man, I’m sorry.  My mom had apparently scheduled it months ago and forgot it was on the day we were leaving.  But it’s really easy I swear, you just drop him off at noon, and then pick him back up at three.  It’s already paid for and everything.”  Steve looks at Eddie apologetically, and Eddie figures it won’t be that bad.

–

Eddie was wrong.  He’s only been watching the dog for an hour and already he knows he’s not cut out for this shit.  Captain is stuck to Eddie like fucking velcro.  Who knew dogs could be so needy?  Eddie goes to sit on the couch?  Captain needs to sit right next to him.  Eddie needs to go to the kitchen to grab a drink?  Captain is practically stepping on his heels as he trails behind him.  Eddie has been pretty lenient so far, it’s only a week right?  But he’d had enough when Captain was demanding to follow him into the bathroom, pawing at the door and whining when Eddie wouldn’t let him in.  

Thank god for that goddamn grooming appointment.

Despite being only a couple hours into this gig, Eddie needed some alone time.  

Captain seemed just as excited to get out of the house when Eddie fought to put his harness on him.  He never thought he’d ever be spending a full ten minutes practically wrestling with a 70 pound dog, but Captain just wouldn’t sit still.  After all was said and done, Captain sat and waited next to the front door calmly, while Eddie emerged sweaty and breathing heavily.

–

The grooming salon ended up being only ten minutes away from Steve’s house, which Eddie was thankful for since Captain decided to sit shotgun and stare at Eddie the entire way over.  On the outside, the place looked fancy.  Eddie scoffed a bit at the Grecian columns bracketing the entrance, and the name of the salon printed in gold swoopy letters across the large window panes in the front.  He couldn’t believe people were willing to shell out enough cash to bring their dogs to a place like this all for a haircut.  Eddie looks over at Captain, who is of course staring at him…still, and sighs.

“Here goes nothing I guess.”

Eddie wrangles Captain out of his van and into the salon, hoping to God that these people wouldn’t be able to smell the poor on him.  

What actually occurred was quite the opposite.

Upon opening the glass doors, Eddie was hit with a whoosh of cool air and a small bell chimed to let the employees know that someone had walked in.  Captain was apparently very excited by the gust of air, and decided to jump in circles around and through Eddie’s legs.  While Eddie was caught up in detangling himself so he doesn’t fall flat on his face, he hadn’t noticed you walking up to them.  

“Hi there, need some help?” 

Eddie looked up and could’ve sworn he heard a choir of angels singing.

You stood there smiling at him, the prettiest girl Eddie had ever seen in his 24 years of life on Earth.  He doesn’t think he’d ever had someone smile at him like that before, but he knows he could definitely get used to it. 

While you were waiting for Eddie to respond, you noticed that his dog’s leash was still quite tangled around his legs.  Deciding to take things into your own hands, you take a few steps back and kneel down to the ground to call the dog to you.  He comes bounding up to you, causing his leash to slide smoothly out from under Eddie’s legs, rendering him untangled at last.

Eddie blinks, suddenly he’s untangled and Captain is jumping up onto you, ever the hugger.  

He finally gets his head out of his ass and jogs up to you, grabbing Captain’s leash and yanking him off of you.

“Bad boy, Captain.  We’re supposed to ask for consent before hugging pretty girls.”

Eddie is elated when he spots a blush crawling up your cheeks.  You stand and brush yourself off.

“It’s really okay.  Captain has my consent to hug me any time he wants!”  Your voice had risen to a puppy-talk octave, Eddie never imagined he’d find that so adorable.  You lean down again to scratch Captain behind the ears, and the dog looks up at you with stars in his eyes.  Eddie, having caught a whiff of your perfume as you bent down, is sporting the same look.

You straighten up with a happy sigh and look up at Eddie with a grin. 

“Well then, now that we’re all introduced, how can I help you?”

Eddie all at once forgets why he’s here, caught up in your beautiful gaze.  He feels like he should shield his eyes from yours, lest he burst into flames from taking in your beauty. 

“I’m—uh...I’m grooming.   N-no, that’s not right, sorry.”  You giggle quietly while he tries to finish his sentence.

Eddie laughs at his own stupidity.  

“Sorry.  He’s getting groomed, he should have an appointment under Harrington I think?”

“Sure, let me check on that.” You turn away from him to walk back towards the front desk, and boy is it a treat for Eddie.  You’re wearing a cute company t-shirt, white sneakers, and these perfect fucking denim jeans that cause Eddie’s to get a little tighter.  They must’ve been tailor-made for you with the way they’re hugging your thighs, your hips, your ass–

“Alright, I’m seeing that Captain is just here for his routine trim, yes?”  You look from your computer screen up at Eddie to find him already staring at you with his mouth slightly open.  The look on his face makes you giggle a bit, and this seems to snap him out of his daze.

“Uh, yes.  That sounds right.”  Eddie shakes his head a bit to rid himself of all the impure thoughts swirling around in there.  “I’m just bringing him in for a friend, so whatever’s on there should be right.”

You pretend to type some more as you try and find the will to push down the blush warming your cheeks.  You already clocked that he was gorgeous when he stumbled through the front doors, but how in the hell does he keep getting better?  You noticed the bulge of his bicep when he yanked Captain off of you, the warm chestnut color of his eyes, and now his super-sexy-deep voice?  Being turned on at work was not on your agenda today…

After a few seconds of nonsense typing and very deep breaths, you look back up at Eddie to find him smiling at you.

“That’s really sweet of you, to help out your friend.”

Eddie puffs out his chest (as though he hasn’t been mentally complaining about watching Steve’s dog for multiple hours).  

“Yeah, I do what I can to help.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders in a way he hopes comes across as ’Yeah baby, I’m just a helpful guy.  Super nice, super sweet, definitely boyfriend material..’

You grin and finish getting Captain all checked in.  

“Alrighty!  Captain’s all good to go.  I can get him taken back and then we’ll see you in three hours.”  

Your sweet smile has Eddie captivated until he realizes you’re holding your hand out for Captain’s leash.  Eddie reluctantly hands it over, because now he has to wait a whole three hours to see you again.  You take the leash, wave ‘bye’ to Eddie, and walk through the door that leads to the rest of the salon.  Eddie lets out a deep sigh.

Goddamnit.

—

Three hours turned out to feel more like three days when it meant waiting to see your face again.  Eddie arrived fifteen minutes early to the salon (a first) and waited anxiously for Captain’s scheduled pickup time to roll around.  Eddie strutted into the salon not a second too late before screeching to a halt.

In your place, stood a much older, much rounder lady.  Eddie deflated a little, cursing himself for not finding out if you’d even be here at this time.  He huffs out a breath, and begins walking up to the front desk. 

Then, a thought pops into his head.

Maybe, if he’s nice enough, he can ask the older woman about you.  Then at least he’d have your name and maybe even when you were working next!

Eddie decides it’s time to amp up the ol’ Munson Charm.

His tentative walk turns into a swagger-filled stroll as he reaches the front desk.  Eddie leans on an elbow and smiles a devilish smile down at the woman.  She looks up at him with wide eyes as he dings the silver bell that sits on the desk, winking at her while he does it.

“H-How can I help you sir?”

“Oh sweetheart, please…call me Eddie.”  He goes on after she spends a moment too long gazing up at him, “And who might you be?”

She gulps and straightens her horned glasses.  “B-Betty.  Betty Brown.”

“Hello, Betty Brown,” Eddie can tell his charming smile is having an effect on her, and he’d be lying if it wasn’t boosting his ego a tiny bit.  “I’m here to pick up my dog, Captain.  Brought him by a few hours ago to get his haircut…you know how he likes to impress the ladies.”

Betty nods and takes a deep breath before turning to the computer to try and hide her smile. 

“Okay, Mr. Eddie.  I checked him out with the card on file, he should be up here shortly.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie waits a moment, before launching into his plan.  “I was actually hoping you could help me with a little something else.” 

Betty looks back up at him, blushing when they make eye contact.

“See, when I was in here earlier, there was a really nice girl helping me out.  But, silly me, I completely forgot to ask what her name was.”

To Eddie’s delight, Betty’s face lights up in recognition.  She says your name with so much glee that it’s obvious to him how loved you must be around here.

“Yes, she got off an hour ago.  She usually works the morning shifts, except on Fridays because those are her days off.”

Eddie quickly learned that underneath Betty’s bashful smile was a woman who loved to talk, and he couldn’t be happier for it.  Eddie quickly learned how long you’ve worked here, that you don’t have any pets of your own, and that last Christmas you brought the most delicious homemade cookies for the entire staff.  He also learned that you’ll be working again for the next two mornings.  

Eddie left with Captain and a smile on his face, but not before pressing a kiss to sweet, sweet Betty’s hand.  Thanks to her, Eddie’s confidence is restored and he actually thinks he might have a shot with you.  All he has to do now is figure out what his reasons will be for coming back to the salon two days in a row.  

–

He spent all evening pacing around the Harrington’s house trying to come up with excuses to come see you.  All of the ones he’d thought of so far made him look like even more of a jackass than he did today.  

I thought I might’ve dropped my wallet somewhere around here.  A gorgeous girl isn’t going to want to go out with a guy who drops his shit everywhere.  Pass.

I think Captain needs a little more of a haircut, maybe just another half inch off?  First of all, Eddie doesn’t know shit about haircuts.  He’s been doing his own with kitchen scissors in his bathroom mirror for over a decade.  Second, he would never risk potentially offending you and your work as a dog groomer on the off chance that you’re the one who cut Captain’s hair.  And lastly, for a dog, he’s got to admit that Captain looks pretty damn good after his appointment.  Who knew a dog could look so regal and majestic?  Anyways, PASS.

It was only after Eddie had plopped down on the leather couch with a huff of defeat that he heard the first few plinks of raindrops hitting the windows.  Eddie went to his phone to check the forecast for the rest of the night, and as luck would have it, there was a 100% chance of thunderstorms until tomorrow morning.  As all the pieces of his new plan began stitching themselves together, Eddie finally allowed himself to relax.

–

Eddie used to hate his “backyard,” if you could even call it that.  Behind the trailer was a medium sized patch of dirt, with some sorry-looking green plant-things trying their best to survive scattered about.  The only times Eddie would really look forward to going outside to play as a kid, much to Wayne’s dismay, was when it rained.  Because when it rained, the once dry and grainy surface turned into slippery, messy mud.  Eddie used to love sliding around and making mud pies and all of that stuff, and right now it seems like Captain is having just as much fun, if not more, than Eddie used to.  

The yard was fenced in, so Eddie wasn’t too worried about Captain running away despite Steve’s promises that he’s ‘leash-trained’.  Eddie planned to tell you otherwise though.

‘He just somehow managed to get away from me.  Yeah, I had to chase him all through the mud and dirt this morning.  But I caught him because I’m like, really fast and strong and stuff.’

He does feel a little guilty about lying to you.  But he figures that if it’s something the two of you can laugh over at your wedding someday, then it’s well worth the little white lies.

Eddie’s brought back from his reverie of you in a long, white dress by Captain dropping the mud-soaked tennis ball at his feet…again.

He couldn’t believe how much energy this dog had.  They’d already been out here for twenty minutes and Captain just kept going and going.  Eddie did have to admit, it was sort of fun watching him play.  He even found himself laughing out loud when Captain would get the ball stuck in a puddle of mud and not hesitate to dunk his entire head in to retrieve it.  There was even one point where Captain got so excited and amped up that he just zoomed around in circles over and over again. 

Maybe dogs aren’t so bad after all.

After another ten minutes of chasing around the now mud-covered tennis ball, Captain decides he’s done playing and sits down at Eddie’s feet.  Eddie can’t help but notice that he’s panting pretty hard.  “You must be thirsty, huh?”

Eddie runs inside the trailer to grab a tupperware bowl and fills it with cold water from the tap.  He hopes to god that Captain hasn’t run away already, he’s decided to really put Steve’s whole “leash training” thing to the test.  But sure enough, when Eddie shoves his front door open there he is, sitting nicely at the foot of the trailer’s steps.  Eddie pats his head, then promptly wipes the flaky, dried mud off onto his jeans.  “Good boy.” 

After Captain is done drinking water, Eddie looks him over to ensure that he is completely and totally covered head-to-toe in mud.  Letting out a satisfied sigh, he decides that it’s time for the next stage of his plan to take action.  

He loads Captain into the back of his van (Eddie makes sure to drive especially slow, and Captain pretty much lays down the whole time) and he sets off towards the salon.  

–

Eddie is practically vibrating with anticipation as he puts his van into park.  He’s ecstatic when he sees your beautiful face smiling after two customers as they exit the salon.  Eddie turns around in his seat to see Captain.

“Okay, buddy.  It’s showtime.  I need you to bring your A-game and be a real good wingman for me in there.  Got it?”

Captain tilts his head at Eddie, as though he didn’t understand a thing he said, but then straightens up and lets out a firm bark.  A laugh bursts out of Eddie as he turns the van off and goes to get Captain from the back.  Before rounding the side of his van, and while he’c completely out of your sight, he does a quick smell test on his pits and breath, and then double checks his hair and teeth in the reflection of his rear windows.  After deeming himself presentable, he takes a big deep breath.

“Don’t be stupid, Munson.  Think charming thoughts,” he says under his breath as he starts towards the front door.  

–

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t sticking around fifteen minutes after your shift was over yesterday in the hopes that Eddie would decide to come back early to pick up Captain.  It’s rare that a guy comes into the salon who looks to be around your age and single, but it’s much rarer that they’re as good-looking as Eddie is.  You spent the entire drive home and the rest of the night fantasizing about his voice, his big hands, his laugh.  You wondered what he did while he waited for Captain’s appointment to be done, what his favorite movie was, his favorite food…But most of all, you wondered if you were making up this mutual attraction in your head?  The nervous stuttering and blushing could just be from nervousness, but he was definitely staring at you a few times.  You also wonder whether or not you had actually caught him staring at your ass…but maybe it’s best not to get ahead of yourself.  Maybe he has a girlfriend.  Maybe he doesn’t even see you that way?  Maybe you should get a grip because you’re basing all of this delusion fantasy off of a ten minute conversation you had with the guy.  Leave it to you to construct a made-up scenario in your head after a short interaction with a new crush.

Be that as it may…you still made sure to carve out an extra half hour to get ready for your shift today.  You blow-dried your hair using your fancy products, spent quite a bit of time on your makeup, and spritzed some perfume on before you left.  You even made sure to wear the same jeans as you did the day before, just in case he was looking. 

The first half of your shift was spent hunched over the front desk, it was an extremely slow day so far.  You found yourself perking up a bit whenever a dark haired individual would walk by the front of the salon, only to droop back down again at the realization that it wasn’t who you wished it was.  With all the rain that came down in Hawkins last night, you figured more people would be making last minute appointments to have their dogs bathed, you’d hoped that today would be busy enough to keep your mind from wandering to a certain pair of warm, brown eyes.  But as your shift crawled towards the halfway point, suddenly things started looking up.

As excited as you were to spot a familiar gorgeous man walking into the salon again, you couldn’t conceal the look of shock on your face once your eyes landed on his mud-covered companion.

“Oh–oh my god!”  Eddie couldn’t quite read your expression, but he was relieved to hear a laugh bubble out of you after your exclamation.  He stood there sheepishly for a moment before he remembered his plan: Be. Charming.

You walk out from behind the desk with a hand covering your mouth, not quite believing what you were seeing.  There stood Captain, proudly smiling and panting, covered head to paw in mud.  Another laugh bubbled out of you, and you were pleased to find Eddie laughing with you.  

Goddamnit, that’s a sexy laugh he’s got.

“What…what happened to you?” You say to Captain, bending down to gently pat his head. 

“This absolute miscreant here got out of the house this morning and found himself a nice, muddy yard to roll around in.”  Eddie looked at you with a grin that made your knees weak.

He looked you up and down while you straightened back up.  Was there a way for someone to get a thousand times more beautiful overnight?

A blush rose to your cheeks as you caught him checking you out.  That settles it, he’s definitely flirting with you.  If he can be so forward about it, maybe you can too.

You look up at Eddie through your lashes, making sure to flutter them a couple times for good measure.

“Aw.  And here I was thinking you’d gotten him all dirty just so you could come and see me again.”

Eddie stills.  

Fuck, he can’t believe how hot you are. 

 Fuck, was his plan really that shitty?  Did you just call him out?  

Eddie’s panicking is subdued by your quiet giggle.  Thank god, you were kidding.

“It’s a good thing you managed to catch him, he looks like the type to go on an adventure in the woods.”  Eddie startles, quickly realizing he’d been full-on staring at you while conducting his mental freak-out.

“Oh, yeah.  I’m–like….fast…” Eddie can feel himself getting lost in your eyes as you stare up at him.  His words trail off into oblivion, nothing else exists other than your pretty smile, the little crinkles next to your eyes, your lips…

Holy shit, is Eddie staring at your lips right now?  Is he going to kiss you?  God, you hope he does, you’ve been fantasizing about his lips for hours now.  You can’t let him kiss you right here in the lobby…can you?

Eddie shakes his head a little, breaking himself from the trance you put him under.  

“Ahem, yeah,” Eddie loudly cleared his throat ,”It was no big deal, really.  He’s a good dog, came right back after he realized he was in the wrong.”  Eddie looked down at Captain, only to find him looking right back up at him, obviously judging him for his outright lies.  Eddie looks up at you, shrugging and shaking his head disapprovingly.  He lets out a big, over dramatic sigh ,”I just don’t know what I’m gonna do with this one.”

“Well it’s obviously not his fault,” you reply, “Look at that face!  That face could never do anything wrong.  I should know, I’m actually his lawyer.”  Eddie spots your poorly concealed smirk and decides to jump head first into this bit with you, excited to see if you can keep up.

“Oh really?”  He crosses his arms and takes a tiny step towards you.  This causes his t-shirt to pull taught around his arms, accentuating his biceps.  Your mouth waters a bit.

“Yes, really.  My client is as innocent as they come.”  You place your hands on your hips and look up at him with a level of sass Eddie had no idea you were capable of.  He decides that he loves it. 

“Huh, that’s interesting.  I totally object.” 

“Are you implying that he acted with intent?  Are you attempting to slander my client?” You place your hand on your chest in a “pearl-clutching” type of way, Eddie stifles a laugh.

“I am indeed.  He knew exactly what he was doing when he ran out that door, the evidence is all over his fur,” Eddie replies.

“My client was just following his nose, any mess that ensued was purely circumstantial.  He is innocent of any and all wrongdoing.”  Eddie feels like he’s got stars in his eyes, he can already picture you fitting in so perfectly into a DnD campaign.  You take his pause as a sign to bring your argument home.

“This is a clear case of prosecutorial overreach.  My client was acting in the best interest of the household, ensuring that the yard was thoroughly inspected for potential threats, pests, intruders, or otherwise.  Any mud on his fur is merely a badge of his dedication to home security.”  You cross your arms, clearly having won this fake-case.  

Eddie takes a step back and starts a slow clap.  You take a tiny bow and burst into a fit of giggles.

“I’m impressed, sweetheart.” You hope Eddie doesn’t see how affected you are by that nickname.  “Where the hell did all the legal jargon come from?”

“I used to watch a lot of Law and Order.”  You look down, suddenly shy with a sparkly feeling in your chest.  You really hope you didn’t come across as super weird.  It’s been a while since you’ve been able to have banter like that with someone else.  Hawkins isn’t a very diverse place, and you’ve found that the majority of the people living here tend to be pretty cookie-cutter conservative.  It feels great to let loose a little with someone you’re interested in, you just hope you’ll get more opportunities to do it.

Eddie, on the other hand, can’t stop looking at you.  Is this what falling in love feels like?  The girls in this town all seem to have made their own assumptions and come to their own conclusions about Eddie: he’s a devil worshiper, a satanist, a hookup to check off their bucket list and then never speak to again.  But not you, obviously.  You don’t look at him with the same disgust in your eyes as everyone else in this town does.  Your eyes are full of a kindness and warmth that Eddie could see himself getting used to.

“So, uh,” Eddie rambles, “What’s the verdict for Mr. Captain?”  Captain perks up at the sound of his name, you giggle at the tilt of his head.

“Hm,” You tap your finger to your chin and look off into the distance, “I think a nice, relaxing bath would do.  Maybe a couple treats, too, for being such a good boy.”  You squat down to Captain’s height to scratch him behind the ears, and Eddie can’t help but cringe a little at the flakes of dried mud that drift down off of Captain’s head and onto the floor.

You grab Captain’s leash from Eddie as you stand back up, walking him over to the desk to get him checked in at the computer.  He’s delighted to discover that you’re wearing the same pair of jeans as you were yesterday, and he mentally kicks himself for sneaking another peek at the way your hips sway as you walk.  Eddie deflates a little at the realization that this might be the end of this interaction.  He never wants to stop talking to you.  

“I’m guessing the card on file is what we’ll be using today?”  You ask sweetly, looking up at Eddie.

“Uh, yeah.  Yeah that’s just fine, thank you.” 

Holding eye contact with Eddie, you murmur “,You’re very welcome,” with a smile.

Oh, Eddie is so totally fucked.

Eddie watches as you walk Captain to the hallway door and hand his leash off to a younger girl.  You happily trot back up to the front desk and lean on it with your smiling face resting in your hands.

“Oh, you– you’re not giving him his bath?” Eddie stammers out.

“Nope.” You reply, popping the ‘p.’ “I’m stuck on front desk duty today.”  

Eddie sighs, relieved that your conversation might not be over.  He puts his elbows on the counter and leans towards you a bit. “Well, it can’t be all that bad.”

Your smile widens and you tilt your head, “I think it’s starting to get better.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list:

@anukulee @josephquinnsfreckles

[wannabehockeygf]

greedy - quinn hughes

“He said ‘I’m just curious, is this for real or just an act?’

Can’t tell if you love or hate me,

Never met someone like that.”

summary: when you’re a bartender in a popular local club, the captain of the canucks who’s also one of your regulars takes a liking to you

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 9.3k. i’m so sorry.

warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation.

notes:

- this is soooo different for me! have never written about a hughes brother before even though they’re super popular here.

- missing vancouver hockey. sorry leafs nation.

- also this is probably some of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written!

- not proof read

- the eye colour thing again… sorry if they’re green.

***

Friday nights at The Roxy Cabaret were like trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans after Thanksgiving dinner—uncomfortable, chaotic, and leaving you questioning your life choices. Honestly, it felt like the entire population of Vancouver had made a pact to invade this dingy club all at once. Not that you were complaining, though—well, maybe a little. It wasn’t like you had a choice; the rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Sure, you worked there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hold a deep, burning, soul-crushing hatred for the place, right? Well, okay, maybe "hatred" was a bit strong. You did occasionally wander in on your nights off, blend into the crowd, and pretend you were just another twenty-three-year-old who didn’t have to worry about the bartender recognizing you. Because let’s face it, you needed a break from serving vodka sodas to tipsy twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school glory days.

What really got under your skin, though, was the crowd that showed up when you were on the clock. And by "crowd," you meant the entire Vancouver Canucks roster, who seemed to think The Roxy was their personal post-victory playground. It wasn’t that you disliked hockey—you were indifferent to it, like you were to a distant relative’s Facebook posts. If it was on, fine, you’d watch. But you weren’t exactly lining up to buy season tickets.

Most of the guys were fine—great even. Some of them were downright charming, the kind of guys you wouldn’t mind chatting with when things slowed down. Plus, they tipped like they were trying to make it rain dollar bills in a music video, which you appreciated. But then there was Quinn Hughes.

Oh, Quinn. Captain Smug himself. He had a way of getting under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

"Another round, please, Princess," Quinn drawls, tapping his fingers on the bar like he owns the place.

You grit your teeth, mentally counting to ten as you shake up a cocktail. "Can you get Brock to order it? He isn’t an egotistical asshole."

Quinn just laughs, that infuriating smirk of his widening even though he looks like he could use a nap. "Aw, come on, Princess, don’t be like that. You know you love me."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. Instead, you stick to your customer service script. "That’s not my name," you say, yanking out shot glasses like they owe you money.

"I know," Quinn says, brushing a strand of hair out of his face like he’s in some cheesy romance movie. "But you act like a princess, so it suits you."

Oh great, now your jaw’s tightening. Fabulous. You grab the tequila bottle with a little more force than necessary. "What do you want from me, Quinn?" you ask, trying not to let your annoyance seep too much into your voice.

He leans in closer, his smirk practically reaching his ears. "How about a smile, Princess? Is that too much to ask?"

You force the kind of smile you reserve for customer service nightmares, tight-lipped and entirely devoid of warmth. "Is that good? Can you go now?"

Quinn chuckles, taking the tray of drinks from you like he’s doing you a favor. "Always so feisty. But I like it. Keeps things interesting."

"Fuck off, Quinn," you mutter, wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone scrubbing a crime scene. "I’m not here to entertain your ego."

He leans in even closer—so close you can practically count the flecks of mischief in his eyes. "But you do entertain me. Every time you brush me off, it just makes me want you more."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Just because you’re some big-shot athlete doesn’t mean you can treat women however you want."

Quinn’s gaze slowly trails up from your lips, where it’s been lingering far too long, to meet your eyes. "Ah, come on, you know I always take good care of you."

And damn it, he’s right. Quinn is probably your biggest tipper out of the entire team. And while you like the money, you hate seeing his stupid messy brown hair and annoyingly pretty blue eyes at your bar every time they win.

"Sure you do," you say, swiping someone else’s card through the machine, mentally willing him to disappear into the sea of other customers.

You watch Quinn walk away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he’s parting the Red Sea. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so damn annoying can also be so… well, hot. There, you admitted it. The guy is hot. Like, "should come with a warning label" hot. But that doesn’t mean you’re about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you think that. No way. Not in this lifetime, or the next, or even if you were reincarnated as a particularly enthusiastic poodle.

Quinn Hughes is the human equivalent of a pop-up ad—persistent, unwanted, and impossible to get rid of without a lot of cursing. Every time you brush him off, he just comes back stronger, like he’s powered by your irritation. And maybe that’s what’s so maddening about him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he enjoys every second of it.

The problem is, you’re starting to wonder if you enjoy it too.

Nope. Not going there. You are not going to be one of those girls who gets all flustered over a guy just because he’s got a good smile and a credit card that could probably buy out half the bar. You’re stronger than that. You’re resilient. You’re… currently mixing a drink with far more focus than necessary because all you can think about is what it would be like to grab him by the collar of that too-tight shirt and kiss that stupid smirk right off his face.

You’re shaking your head at the absurdity of it all as you pour the next round of shots, hands moving on autopilot. It’s bad enough that Quinn Hughes has invaded your workspace like some kind of hockey-playing parasite, but now he’s wormed his way into your thoughts too.

“Get a grip,” you mutter under your breath, lining up the glasses like they’re little soldiers marching to their doom. Because really, that’s what this is—a battle of wills. A tug-of-war where the prize is your sanity, and you’re losing.

A couple of your regulars wave you over, and you force your focus back to them, slapping on that customer service smile that’s become second nature by now. They’re nice guys, the kind who tip decently and don’t try to flirt with you in that obnoxious, entitled way that some customers do. They’re also blissfully ignorant of the 5’10, 180 pound storm cloud currently hovering over your head, which is exactly how you like it.

But just as you’re starting to enjoy a break from the chaos, you catch sight of him again. He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, talking to Brock, who seems completely unfazed by the fact that Quinn has probably just sent your blood pressure through the roof.

You steal a glance at Quinn, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. The guy’s just standing there, doing absolutely nothing, and yet he has this stupid effect on you. Like he’s some kind of gravitational force, pulling you in against your will.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the drink in front of you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Your brain has already gone down that treacherous path, imagining what it would be like if you gave in just once.

But that’s a dangerous game, and you know it. Because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Hell, he’ll probably take the whole damn kilometer. And then where would you be?

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight, not ever.

You’re not sure when exactly it started—the whole Quinn Hughes thing, that is. Maybe it was the first time he sauntered up to the bar, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t. Or maybe it was the time he tipped you a hundred bucks just for bringing him a water, like he was trying to buy your affection. Which, spoiler alert, didn’t work. Or so you’ve been telling yourself.

But you can’t deny it any longer: Quinn Hughes is a problem. A major, five-alarm, get-the-fire-extinguisher kind of problem. Because somewhere along the line, your irritation with him has twisted into something… different. Something dangerous. Something that makes you wonder what it would be like to grab him by that annoyingly perfect jawline and just—

“Hey, Princess, you gonna make me another drink or just stand there daydreaming?”

And there it is. That voice, like smooth whiskey poured over gravel, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Of course it’s him. Because Quinn Hughes has a sixth sense for when you’re starting to get a grip on your sanity, and he’s hell-bent on ruining it.

You set down the bottle of vodka you’ve been holding, turning to face him with what you hope is a look of mild disinterest. “Back so soon? Didn’t think you could tear yourself away from your adoring fans.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does. After all, what’s a Friday night without irritating the bartender who’s secretly trying to figure out what color your eyes really are because the lighting in here sucks? Not that you’d ever admit to that. “I just couldn’t stay away from you, Princess. You know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Again, not my name.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. “I know. But I like it. It suits you.”

“What, because I won’t roll over and worship the ground you walk on?” you shoot back, crossing your arms. You know you’re playing with fire, but there’s something addictive about sparring with him. Like a game of chicken, except you’re both too stubborn to swerve.

Quinn’s grin widens, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Damn him. “Exactly. I like a girl with a backbone.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. Because for some reason, all you can think about is the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only person in this crowded, chaotic club that matters.

So that’s why you decide to go for it.

“You ever had hate sex, Hughes?”

You can almost see the gears in Quinn’s head grind to a halt at your question. The usual smug smirk falters for a split second, and it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all night. You’ve finally done it—left Quinn Hughes speechless. But the victory is short-lived because, as always, he recovers faster than you can blink.

“Hate sex?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, making you question all of your life choices up to this point. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you suddenly realize you’re standing way too close. “Princess, if that’s your idea of a pick-up line, I’ve got to say, I’m intrigued.”

And there it is, that damn smirk back in full force. He’s trying to throw you off, but you refuse to back down. You’ve already started this ridiculous game, so there’s no turning back now.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you reply, your tone as steady as you can make it. “Ever had hate sex?”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine—not that you’d ever admit it. “I don’t know. Guess we’d have to define ‘hate sex’ first.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But damn it, you’re committed now. “I’m pretty sure it’s when you can’t stand someone, but you still want to rip their clothes off.”

Quinn’s eyes darken just a fraction, and you can feel the tension between you both ratchet up to an unbearable level. It’s like the entire club fades away, leaving just the two of you locked in this absurd, heated standoff.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “You want to rip my clothes off, Princess?”

You clench your jaw, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. This is Quinn Hughes, the guy who drives you up the wall every single time he walks into this bar. There’s no way in hell you’re about to let him get the upper hand.

So, you do the only thing that seems appropriate. You lean in, so close that your lips are almost brushing his ear, and whisper, “Maybe I just want to shut you up for five minutes.”

“You think you could handle it?” His voice is a low rumble now, and there’s something about the way he says it that’s got your stomach doing somersaults. “Because if we’re going there, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Oh, for the love of— You’re pretty sure your face is betraying you right now, showing just how much his words have affected you, but you can’t let him know that.

Quinn is still watching you, eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a challenge there, a dare hanging in the air between you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Too close. Close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, and those damn blue eyes that seem to see right through your carefully constructed defenses.

For a moment, you consider backing down, playing it off as a joke. But then Quinn would win, and that’s simply not an option. So, you double down, leaning in just a little bit closer, your breath brushing against his skin.

"Handle it? Quinn, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to." Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is doing its best impression of a drum solo. This is insane. You’re flirting with Quinn Hughes. Quinn Hughes, the guy who spends his Friday nights at your bar making your life just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. The guy who seems to take an unholy amount of pleasure in riling you up. The guy who—God help you—makes your pulse race every time he so much as glances in your direction.

Quinn’s lips curve into a slow smile, and you can’t help but notice how annoyingly perfect his teeth are. Of course they are. Everything about him is infuriatingly perfect, from his tousled hair to his broad shoulders that you really shouldn’t be noticing right now. "You’ve got a mouth on you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine that you desperately try to suppress.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as you stare into Quinn’s infuriatingly perfect face. Seriously, who gave him the right to look this good, especially when he’s being such a smug asshole? You remind yourself that you don’t like him. You don’t. Except maybe you do, a little bit. Okay, a lot. But that’s beside the point.

Quinn’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire—one wrong move, and you’re going to get burned. But damn it, you’re not backing down. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can swoop in and… do what, exactly? You’re not even sure anymore. And that’s the most dangerous part.

“Someone’s gotta put you in your place, Hughes,” you manage to say, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. You’re aiming for sassy, but it’s hard to pull off when your heart is practically doing backflips in your chest.

His smile widens, and you want to slap it right off his face, but also—God help you—maybe kiss it off too. “Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Oh, he’s good. He’s really good. And damn it, you walked right into his trap, didn’t you? Because now you’ve got to follow through, or else he’s going to lord this over you for the rest of eternity.

But before you can figure out a clever retort, Quinn’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the crowded bar. When he looks back at you, there’s something new in his eyes—something that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is a little too crowded for what I have in mind.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He’s not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting, is he? Because if he is, you’re in way over your head. And yet… there’s a tiny, traitorous part of you that’s intrigued. More than intrigued. You want to know what he has in mind, even though every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to abort mission and run for the hills.

You tilt your head, trying to play it cool even as your heart races. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Hughes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Somewhere private,” he murmurs, “Where we can… talk.”

“Talk,” you repeat, your tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Oh, you do. You’ve got a lot of ideas, most of them involving doing things to Quinn Hughes that would definitely not fall under the category of “talking.” But you can’t just give in, can you? That would be too easy, and Quinn would never let you live it down.

But then again… maybe it’s time to stop overthinking things. Maybe it’s time to let go, just this once, and see where this crazy, ridiculous, probably-terrible idea takes you.

“Fine,” you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds. “Let’s go.”

Quinn’s eyes light up with something that looks a lot like victory, but you’re not about to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely, anyway.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, his voice a low purr that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

You roll your eyes—because of course you do—but there’s no denying the excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but one thing’s for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With one last glance at the bar, you turn on your heel and start making your way through the crowd, Quinn hot on your heels. You can feel the tension between you both, crackling like static electricity, and it’s taking everything in you not to turn around and grab him by that stupidly perfect jawline right then and there.

You slip through a side door that leads to a narrow hallway, the noise from the bar muffled by the heavy walls. The air is cooler here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that dance along the worn carpet. You can feel Quinn’s presence behind you, close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Where are we going?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach flip.

“Storage closet,” you say, not even sure where the idea came from, but it’s out now, and there’s no taking it back. You know the staff keeps some of the extra supplies in a small room down the hall, and it’s as good a place as any to… well, whatever this is.

Quinn’s chuckle is dark and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine. “Kinky,” he murmurs, but you can hear the approval in his tone.

You reach the door and push it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves full of bottles and boxes. It’s cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is space to think about what you’re doing, because if you stop to think, you might just lose your nerve.

Quinn steps in behind you, closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoes in the quiet space, amplifying the tension that’s been simmering between you both all night.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges and barely restrained desire. And then, like a rubber band snapping, the tension breaks.

You’re not even sure who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly you’re pressed up against the shelves, Quinn’s body crowding into yours, his hands bracing on either side of your head as his lips crash onto yours

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every bit as intense and heated as the tension that’s been simmering between you from the moment you met. His lips crash against yours with a force that sends your head spinning, and for a moment, all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

This is no sweet, romantic moment. This is raw, unfiltered desire, born from all the frustration and irritation that’s been building between you two for so long. It’s everything you never thought you’d want, and yet here you are, giving in to it completely.

Quinn’s hands are on you now, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe you can’t either. All you know is that this is happening, and there’s no stopping it.

“Damn it, Hughes,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to inject some venom into your words, but it comes out more like a plea. You can feel his smirk, the arrogant bastard. He knows he’s got you, and it only makes you want to kiss him harder.

Or punch him.

Maybe both.

“Problem?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair disheveled from your hands, and he looks annoyingly good like this. All messy and untamed, like you’ve undone him somehow, when you know it’s the other way around.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop looking at you like that, like you’re some puzzle he’s close to solving. But you’re too breathless, too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. So instead, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him back down to you, your lips crashing together again in a bruising kiss.

He groans into your mouth, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers skimming the heated skin of your back. You shiver at the contact, hating how good it feels, hating that he knows it too. You can feel his smugness in every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

And yet, you don’t stop him.

Because you’re just as guilty.

You’ve been wanting this—wanting him—even though you’ve been denying it, pushing it away, convincing yourself that you despise him. But the truth is, that hatred has always been laced with something else. Something darker, more dangerous. Something you’re only now beginning to understand.

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter against his lips, your voice tinged with frustration as you nip at his lower lip. You want to hurt him, just a little, to remind yourself that you’re still in control, that this isn’t just him getting what he wants. But when he groans in response, his hands tightening their grip on your hips, you realize that maybe you’re not as in control as you thought.

“You say that like you don’t love it,” he replies, his voice husky as he trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. Your breath hitches when he finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that makes your knees go weak. He’s too good at this. Too good at getting under your skin.

You don’t want to enjoy this. You really don’t. But your body isn’t exactly cooperating, and the traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach isn’t something you can ignore. It’s maddening how much you want this, even as every logical part of your brain screams that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

But logic be damned, because the way Quinn’s lips are moving against your skin is making it very hard to care about consequences.

“You’re such a smug bastard,” you mutter, trying to inject some bite into your words, but they come out breathy, almost like a sigh. Ugh. Could you be any more pathetic?

Quinn chuckles against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked that about me,” he murmurs, his voice thick. His hands slide up under your shirt, fingers skimming over your ribs, making you gasp. “Or at least, you like it enough to let me do this.”

He’s right, and that just pisses you off even more. You do like it—hate it, love it, whatever it is, you’re feeling it with every nerve in your body. You can feel his smirk against your skin, and it only fuels the fire inside you.

You yank at his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can meet his eyes, which are dark and stormy with desire. “Don’t get cocky, Hughes,” you warn, even though you know it’s a losing battle. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But we both know you’re full of shit.”

“Full of shit?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to keep your wits about you even as his hands roam over your body. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s all talk and no—”

Quinn’s lips are on yours again before you can finish the sentence, cutting off your words with a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than the last one. It’s like he’s determined to prove you wrong, to make you eat your words, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s succeeding.

But you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

You push back against him, shoving at his chest just enough to create some distance, even though your body is screaming at you to do the opposite. His eyes flash with surprise, and you smirk up at him, a little breathless but still in the game.

“Easy there, Hughes,” you murmur, your voice laced with false bravado. “I didn’t say you could take control.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly smug smile that makes you want to both slap him and drag him closer. “Oh? I must have missed the memo where you were the one calling the shots.”

You grit your teeth, not entirely sure whether you want to punch him or kiss him again. Maybe both, but that would just be giving him the upper hand. Instead, you decide to hit him where it hurts—his ego.

“Please,” you scoff, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “You’ve been in my palm since the moment we met. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He lets out a low, amused chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re fantasizing about me at night?”

Your stomach flips at his words, but you refuse to let him see the effect he’s having on you. Instead, you tilt your head, letting your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, “In your dreams, Hughes.”

But as much as you’re trying to play it cool, you can’t deny the electric tension between you both. It’s like the air is crackling with it, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. All you can focus on is Quinn—his hands, his lips, his damn voice that keeps pulling you deeper into this mess.

His hand slides down your side, settling on your hip, and your breath catches when he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together in the cramped space. You can feel every inch of him, the solid warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you don’t either.

Quinn’s lips are back on yours, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate. Like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time, driving you absolutely crazy with how good it feels. You’re so wrapped up in it, in him, that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working on rolling up your shirt until it’s halfway up.

You pull back, just enough to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives you a look that’s all innocence, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands keep moving, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Comfortable?” you repeat, your voice coming out a little higher than you intended as his hands roam over your bare skin. “You think this is making me comfortable?”

Quinn leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “No, but it’s making you hot, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitches, and damn him, he’s right. He’s so infuriatingly right. But you’re not about to admit that. Instead, you try to muster up some semblance of defiance, even though you can feel your resolve crumbling with every touch, every heated look he throws your way.

“You wish,” you manage to say, but the words lack the venom you were aiming for. Instead, they come out breathy, almost like a plea, and you hate how much that turns you on.

Quinn grins, and it’s a wicked, knowing grin that makes your stomach twist in the most deliciously infuriating way. “I don’t have to wish,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before you can respond—before you can even think of a comeback—he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your head spin. You’re drowning in him, in the heat, the intensity of it all, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re going to lose yourself completely.

But then Quinn’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up onto the shelves, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You grab onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it hard to remember why this is such a bad idea.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to fall apart at the seams. But your voice betrays you, coming out shaky, uncertain, and Quinn hears it. Of course he does.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your shorts, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches, the way your body arches toward him, desperate for more. Damn it, you shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him—but there’s no denying it now.

“You can stop this anytime you want,” Quinn whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Just say the word.”

But you don’t say anything. Because you can’t. You don’t want to stop, not when his hands are on you, not when his lips are trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to let go, to give in to this insane, reckless desire.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with everything you’ve got, trying to show him that you’re not backing down, that you’re just as in this as he is. Maybe more.

Quinn groans against your lips, and you can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands tighten their grip on your thighs. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him, the way you can make him unravel with just a kiss, a touch.

But then his hands are slipping under your shorts, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s happening, it’s really happening, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re ready for this. If you can handle what comes next.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to lose it completely. But he’s not listening, or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t care, because his hands are still moving, still exploring, and you’re melting under his touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your stomach flip. It’s dark, intense, full of heat—and, damn it, he’s giving you that smug smile again, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless, a contrast to the arrogant tilt of his lips. “You good?”

Good? Is that a joke? You’re anything but good right now. Your heart is racing, your mind is spinning, and your body—well, your body is betraying you in every way possible, pressing closer to him, silently begging for more.

“I fucking hate you,” you manage to choke out, though the words feel flimsy, a pathetic attempt at maintaining some semblance of control. Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and you know he doesn’t believe you for a second. But instead of calling you out on it, he leans in, his lips brushing against your jawline as he murmurs, “Then why are you so fucking wet?” He punctuates the words by brushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your underwear.

Your brain short-circuits at his words. Like, did he really just—? You’re torn between the urge to slap that smug look off his face and the overwhelming desire to pull him closer, consequences be damned. The nerve of this guy, thinking he can just—

But then his fingers move, and every coherent thought you had goes flying out the window. A gasp escapes your lips, and you curse yourself for giving him the satisfaction, but, damn it, how are you supposed to keep your wits about you when his hands are doing that?

Quinn’s watching you, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more primal. “What’s the matter?” he teases, his voice a low rumble.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster up some sort of retort, but all that comes out is a breathy, “Shut up,” which only makes his smirk widen. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so badly, but every time you think you’re about to regain control, he does something that completely derails you.

Like now, for instance, when his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and your hips jerk forward entirely of their own accord. Quinn’s chuckle is low and throaty, and you feel the vibrations of it against your neck as he nips at your skin, leaving a trail of barely-there bites that make your pulse race.

“Shutting up doesn’t seem like your style,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. “But I think I can find a way to keep you quiet.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean because his hand finally dips lower, and suddenly, you’re not sure whether you want to moan or curse him out. Your body makes the decision for you, your head falling back against the shelf as a breathless moan escapes your lips, and you feel Quinn’s grin widen against your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking—” Your words get caught in your throat as he moves his fingers just right, and the sound that comes out of you is more of a whimper than anything else. It’s humiliating, really, how easily he’s reducing you to this—a writhing, desperate mess—and the bastard knows it.

“Sensitive, are we?” Quinn’s voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a huskiness to it now, a slight hitch in his breath that tells you he’s just as affected by this as you are, even if he’s better at hiding it. “That’s cute.”

“Cute?” you manage to gasp, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance, even as your body betrays you by arching into his touch. “I’ll show you—” Your words trail off into a moan as he circles his fingers just right, and suddenly, the only thing you want to show him is how quickly you can come undone if he keeps this up.

You're about to fire back with something scathing, something that’ll put Quinn in his place, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp as his fingers work a little faster, a little rougher, hitting that spot that has your entire body going slack against the shelves. God, if anyone walked in right now, they'd have one hell of a show.

"Something you wanted to say?" Quinn’s voice is thick with that damn arrogance, but there's a slight edge to it now, like he's barely holding it together himself. Good, you think. If you’re going down, you’re taking him with you.

"Y-you're…" You try to form a sentence, anything to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words get tangled in your throat as Quinn’s other hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot and demanding. "You're such a…"

He smirks, his lips hovering just over yours, so close you can feel the heat of his breath. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm dying to know."

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter, but your voice lacks any real bite, especially when his fingers dip lower, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Quinn…"

He pauses, his lips still pressed to your jaw, and for a moment, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s going to stop, give you a chance to catch your breath, to regain some semblance of control. But then he moves again, his fingers slipping past your last shred of dignity, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a curse.

"That’s what I thought," Quinn whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you couldn't keep that tough act up forever."

"Screw you," you hiss, but your words are cut off by another sharp gasp as Quinn’s thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh, God…"

"Already there," he murmurs, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He presses a kiss there, soft and maddeningly slow, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and you can see the barely-contained hunger in them. It sends a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through you.

"Quinn, I swear, I’m gonna—" you gasp as his fingers continue their relentless assault, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Or maybe I'll just—"

"Just what?" he presses, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to finish the sentence. "Come all over my fingers? Because that’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it?"

There’s a part of you—the sensible, rational part—that’s still trying to cling to some semblance of control, some dignity. But that part is losing, rapidly being overpowered by the heat pooling in your stomach and the way Quinn’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the entire world.

For a moment, you consider making some sort of last-ditch effort to regain control, to pull away and regain your breath. But then Quinn’s thumb brushes over that spot again, and all thoughts of self-control go out the window. Instead, a moan slips past your lips—loud and unrestrained, filling the tiny storage closet with a sound that’s undeniably needy.

Quinn’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction, and damn it, he’s enjoying this way too much. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna come for me, yeah? Or do you want my cock instead?”

Your brain is short-circuiting, struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. The idea of him inside you, combined with the way he’s touching you, is almost too much to bear. You’re on the verge of losing it, and every part of you is screaming for release.

Finally, you manage a breathless, “Fuck it,” and let your hands wander lower, fumbling with his belt, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. You don’t care about the consequences, the logical part of your brain completely overridden by the burning need coursing through you.

“I swear, if we ever make it out of this closet,” you gasp, your fingers struggling with the stubborn belt buckle, “I’m going to have a hard time looking you in the eye.”

Quinn chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But right now, I think your focus should be on something else.”

You manage to loosen his belt, your hands shaking with anticipation. The urgency of the moment makes every touch and every breath more intense. “And what would that be?” you retort, trying to keep some semblance of your usual sarcasm. It’s hard, though, when his fingers are still doing deliciously wicked things to you.

Quinn’s fingers trace teasing circles, making your breath hitch and your body squirm against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. “Maybe on getting me out of these pants before I lose my patience.”

“Geez, Hughes, such a gentleman,” you manage, your voice breathless as you finally get his pants undone. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s only adding to the feverish heat between you.

You push his pants down just enough, and as you finally free his hard length, you’re met with the unmistakable evidence of his own need. The sight makes you gasp, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Quinn groans into your mouth when you reach inside his jeans, his hips jerking forward as if seeking more contact, more friction. You’re both teetering on the edge now, the line between control and complete surrender blurred beyond recognition. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and you’re not sure if you want to keep pushing him or if you just want to let go and fall into the abyss together.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Quinn breathes against your lips, his voice rough with need, and there’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where you think you see something more in his eyes. Something deeper than just desire, something that sends a jolt of fear straight to your heart. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you closer, and whatever that look was, it’s gone, replaced by the raw, primal hunger that’s been simmering between you from the start.

You shudder as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough force to make you gasp. You can feel him, hot and hard against your palm, and it’s taking everything in you not to just give in, to let him take what you both so clearly want. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to let him have the upper hand, that wants to make him beg, make him come undone for you.

“Say please,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Quinn freezes, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed him too far, that he’s going to pull back and leave you hanging on the edge of oblivion. But then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Please?” he echoes, his tone dripping with arrogance, as if the very idea of him begging is laughable. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you stroke him slowly, deliberately teasing, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches, his bravado faltering ever so slightly. “No?” you murmur, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip, your voice low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

Quinn’s eyes darken, and for a split second, you think you’ve got him—that you’ve managed to gain the upper hand. But then he’s moving, faster than you can react, pinning your wrists behind your back with one hand while the other yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way that sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You want to play games?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Fine. But I don’t play fair.”

Before you can respond, before you can even think to respond, he’s pressing into you, his body solid and unyielding, and all coherent thought flies out of your head as he finally, finally gives you what you’ve both been craving.

The world tilts on its axis as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you’re not sure if the sound that escapes your lips is a moan or a sob or something in between. All you know is that you’re completely, utterly lost in him—in the way he’s filling you, stretching you, driving you to the brink of madness with every rough, relentless movement.

Quinn’s breath is ragged against your ear, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You’re so close, so fucking close, and it’s taking everything in you not to just let go, to give in to the blinding pleasure that’s consuming you from the inside out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Quinn groans, his voice strained, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable in the way he says it, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. “I’ve been imagining this from the first moment I walked in here.”

Your hands are still pinned behind your back, your body arched against the shelves, completely at Quinn’s mercy. And damn it, he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the brink, how to make you lose every ounce of control you thought you had. His movements are powerful, purposeful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, until you’re teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“Quinn—” You gasp out his name, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through you like a living thing. His grip on your wrists tightens, the roughness of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, and there’s something possessive, almost desperate, in his voice that makes your heart race even faster. “You’re fucking mine.”

And you’re so damn close, so close to falling apart entirely. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to give in, to let him have all the control. So, you tighten around him, just enough to pull a sharp, choked-off groan from his throat, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as his rhythm falters, just for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re—” Quinn’s voice is hoarse, strained, as if he’s holding onto the last shreds of his control by a thread, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you’re the one doing this to him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe out, trying to sound cocky despite the tremble in your voice. “Maybe you should—”

But you don’t get to finish the thought, because Quinn shifts his angle just slightly, and suddenly, he’s hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, that has your back arching off the shelves and a cry escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the triumph. He’s found your weakness, and he’s going to exploit it for all it’s worth. “Right there, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out again as he starts to focus all his attention on that one spot, his movements growing more precise, more deliberate. He’s relentless, driving you closer and closer to the brink, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, to lose the tenuous grip you have on your composure.

“Quinn, I—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, don’t even know if you can say anything at all with the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

Quinn’s chuckle against your ear is low and dark, the sound a tantalizing contrast to the rough, punishing way he’s moving inside you. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it over the sound of you moaning my name.”

The arrogance in his voice is infuriating, but it’s also the last thing on your mind right now. Every thrust he gives you is like a jolt to your system, making it harder to stay focused, harder to cling to whatever shreds of control you have left. Your head is spinning, and you’re almost grateful for the way his body is pressed against yours, anchoring you in a whirlwind of pleasure.

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your body betrays you by arching into him. “You’re insufferable,” you manage to gasp out, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual bravado. “And you’re really bad at this whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice is a low purr, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep telling me how much you hate me. It makes this so much better.”

You roll your eyes, even as a moan escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re such a jerk,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky and breathless, betraying just how much he’s affecting you.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the brush of his lips against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “That’s not what your body’s telling me, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to you. But it’s a losing battle, and you both know it. Especially when he starts moving faster, his pace relentless as he drives into you with a force that has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the shelves as you struggle to stay upright. “You’re—” Your words are cut off by a sharp cry as he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you again that has your vision going white around the edges.

You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to process the fact that you’re completely, utterly exposed in a storage closet with a man who has made a sport out of driving you insane. All you can do is feel—every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath against your ear is pushing you closer to the edge, closer to losing the last of your control.

“God, you’re so… fucking… cocky,” you manage to choke out between gasps, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mm-mhm,” Quinn’s voice is a low growl, his words vibrating against your neck as his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. “And you’re just an annoying brat who brushes me off every time I say something nice. But I figured it out, you just wanted me to rail all that attitude out of you.”

You try to respond, to counter his taunts with some biting retort, but all that comes out is a breathless moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more urgent. “Fuck, Quinn,” you gasp, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your control. “You’re—”

He interrupts you with a sharp, possessive growl. “I’m what? Don’t hold back now. Tell me how good it feels.”

Your head is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and frustration. “You’re a complete—” Another moan escapes you as Quinn hits that spot inside you again, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “A complete… asshole,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

“And you love it,” Quinn’s voice is a triumphant whisper against your ear. “You love every second of this. Don’t you?”

You can’t even respond, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point where you’re just barely able to hold onto the edge of sanity. All you can do is nod, your body arching into him, your hands still pinned behind your back, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so close,” Quinn murmurs, his voice low and rough. “So fucking close. I can feel it. And I’m going to make sure you get there. I promise.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you feel yourself starting to unravel, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. Quinn’s movements are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, until you’re on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into oblivion.

“Quinn, I—” You try to speak, but the words are lost in a cry as he thrusts into you with a force that has your vision going white around the edges.

Quinn’s grip on your hips tightens, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Come for me,” he growls, his breath hot and urgent. “Let go. Give it to me.”

And with those words, you shatter, your body convulsing with a pleasure so intense that it’s almost painful. You cry out his name, your voice echoing through the storage closet as you come apart, your entire world dissolving into a blur of sensation and release.

Quinn follows close behind, his movements growing erratic as he drives into you with one final, powerful thrust. You can feel his release inside you, hot and thick, and it sends a shiver through your entire body. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged and heavy, and you can feel the tension in his body as he finally, finally finds his own release.

The two of you are left panting in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together in the confined space of the storage closet. Quinn’s breath is hot against your ear, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “That was… intense.”

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice still trembling. “That’s one way to put it. Now, get off of me. I have to get back to work.”

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

There's this show i only watched one episode of called ugliest house in America, and the premise is that the host goes around America looking at submitted ugly houses and the Most Ugly house gets remodeled at the end of the season.

All this only matters because the one episode I caught made me just.... really sad. They show three houses per episode and I don't really remember the other two houses because they were bland and not that interesting, but the one house, the one that won that round and was closer to being remodeled was obviously an artists house.

Everything in this house had been customized around the previous owners life Pasion: birds. And I do mean everything. They had literally printed out dozens of various drawings of birds and plastered them onto the basement wall. They had made tile mosseics of cranes right on the front entrance. Drawn egrets with what I'm pretty sure were crayons on the walls. And it was really obvious how many hours and how much love went into making this house something beautiful to that artist. And here it was, being toured around on television, touted as the ugliest house in America.

Every time they saw another bird the show played up the hosts surprise and eventually disgust. How WEEIRD that this unnamed, presumably dead artist was soooo into birds that they carefully crafted their whole life around them. The attic was an aviary for (the current owners assumed) pigeons. How silly and foolish and stupid that artist was for ruining the market value of their home by making it a shrine to something they loved. Do I blame the current owners? No. Of course not. I certainly wouldn't want to live in a house plastered wall to wall with birds with an attic that still smells like bird. But it's just..... the way they talked about it was upsetting.

There was no compassion for the person who put so much time and effort into lovingly crafting a house they really were happy in. The genuinely well done and skilled crayon drawings on the wall talked about the exact same way as you'd talk about a stain on the carpet. Unsightly. Strange. Unmarketable.

I look at my own room, lovingly crafted to be my oasis after a hard day. Halloween decoration sticker bats permanently on the wall. The ufo mural I spent a good month on that would probably be more at home in a minigolf course than a bedroom. Years of artwork both handmade and purchased tacked up to the walls. How much of it would the host mock. Teal walls sanded down and painted the off-white eggshell of marketability. It's going to happen regardless, I can't take the mural with me and even if I live in this house until I die someone will be here after me and they probably won't want it. But there's a certain kind of.... humiliating exposure of watching someone's heart and soul get torn apart on television. The ugliest house in America.

[spencerreiddddd]

Hyper fixation

Soooo this is the first request I do and hopefully it lives up to your expectations!

Hope you like it @ilovethepipecleaner

You walked into the BAU with your tote bag hanging on your shoulder adorned with multiple little bear key chains.

“Pretty girl you made it early today.” Morgan called out to you from the small kitchen as you made your way to your desk.

You turned to look at him a smile spreading on your face. “Well my coffee shop was closed so I guess it’s BAU coffee today.” You say making a disgusted face causing Morgan to laugh.

Turning around to look at your desk a small bear key chain catches your attention, it had a sticky note placed next to it.

“Congrats on passing your gun exam.

-Yours Spencer.”

A smile spread across your lips as you picked up the small bear and examined it.

The bear was pink your favorite color, it had a FBI vest on and a gun holstered to its side. With your initials in graved on the bottom of the bears right foot.

A small shocked chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at the adorable bear in your hands.

“Do you like it?” A voice came from behind you in a timid manner turning around to see Spencer your smiled grew impossibly larger.

“Like it? I love it Spence!” You said practically jumping into his arms as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands immediately finding your waist.

“I love it, thank you Spence. I love you so much!” You say in his ear as you back away from his and turn your attention back to the small bear in your hands, missing the way Spencer’s face turned unbelievably red at your words… more specifically the last five words.

“This is going to my collection.” You say clipping the small bear to your tote bag to join all the other little bears dangling on there.

“How did you even find one like this?” You ask turning your attention back to Spencer, he smiled shyly. “I had it custom made.” He said looking into your eyes for a reaction.

“No way, you had it custom made just because I passed my gun exam?” You say astonished.

“Truthfully, I had it made before I knew you had passed it.” He said scratching his head, you looked at him with disbelief.

“Spence what if I hadn’t passed my test?” You say curiously.

He shook his head. “Not possible, your better with that gun out of all of us.” He said teasing.

You laugh and smile giddily. “Nice to know you have one hundred percent faith in me.”

“Oh yeah one hundred percent always.” He says looking at you with big puppy eyes you feel like you can drown in.

You stand there smiling at each other, for what didn’t feel long until a voice startled Spencer and you out of the trance with each other.

“Hey get a room, im just trying to drink my coffee in peace.” Morgan says leaning back on the counter coffee in one hand and the other crossed over his chest.

Spencer chuckled retreating back to his desk as he looked back at you a flashed you a toothy grin.

You smiled brightly at him as a feeling pooled in your stomach, it was warm and it made you feel happy. Something changed right there and then on how you viewed Spencer.

Thank you for reading! This was so much fun to write, I will be taking more requests if anyone wants to message me!

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Lucifer, Charlie, and alastor with a Kitsune reader ? :0

Hazbin Hotel x Kitsune! Reader

(Lucifer, Charlie, and Alastor)

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Gn! Reader! Reader being a mischievous Little Kitsune, chaos ensues.

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1101

A/n: Hi! thank you for the request! This isn’t terribly long so I hopes that’s ok!

Now, I wasn’t entirely sure if you want this to be Romantic or Platonic so I kept it pretty vague so it could be interpreted as either! I hope that’s ok, if not just send another request and I’ll fix it!!

But either way I hope you enjoy it because i enjoyed writing it!! <3

Proofread once soooo… if there are any errors please ignore them/inform me 😭

Lucifer

When you first arrived in hell, he wasnt the most impressed by you. Not in a mean way or anything, just that he’s lived for a long time and has met a plethora of different types of beings so he’s pretty used to meeting interesting looking people.

But even he has to admit that he was intrigued with you. Your 9 well-groomed and lush tails that quietly followed you with every step and the fur of your fox ears looked soft to the touch. The thing that he seemed to notice most though was the whole eloquent aura you had with every movement you did. Smooth, almost tranquil.

You being a Kitsune did cause you to stir up a bit of… let's say trouble. Your fox nature of course caused you to have a personality that leaned a bit mischievously. You weren’t malicious by any means, you judt had a very… unique taste in humor and how you wish to spend your time. Pranks, stealing random objects that interest you, and going places that you probably should be. This gets you in trouble with many a folk but it’s really not something you can’t handle.

On one of these occasions. you took interest in his custom made duckys. First off, it was something new to you, 2nd, you had never seen someone be this interested in ducks as him, so when you randomly stumbled into the big man of hell’s workspace that’s filled to the brim of them, each with unique features and colorful designs, needless to say you were quite interested.

He was a bit embarrassed at first when you found it but seeing that you genuinely were into them he literally couldnt stop showing them off. Going into almost ecrusiating detail of each one's design choices. (This man is so autistic-coded. I love him so much)

He even made a custom one for you which he gave you when both met again. It was a basic duck design, except it had 9 tail feathers and wore fox ears that clearly mimicked your own, including your fur pattern. He then spent an hour going through each of its features with you. To say you were grateful would be an understatement.

“And if you pull this feather back… Bubbles! Oh-ho, and that's not all! If you take this and-”

Charlie

Definitely more impressed than her father would be. Of course she has been in hell literally all her life and has seen some weird, wacky, hot and cool people but it still doesnt not surprise her when she finds interesting people. When you first met her she was really interested in you, asking a bunch of questions and It was almost scary how enthusuatsic about it she got.

She then started talking about her brand new “Hazbin Hotel.” It was something to reform sinners so that they had a chance at redemption. Charlie seemed so excited to tell you about it that you honestly did have the heart to tell her that you didn’t exactly believe a soul could be redeemed.

Now depending on if you’re hellborn or a sinner, things can go a bit differently. If youre hellborn she’ll offer you a job at the hotel, well to say a job would be a lie, you didn’t really have 1 given task to do, you just helped out when needed. if you’re a sinner, you of course get to stay in a room at the hotel. Whether you actually go along and try to get better is up to you. It was a free place to sleep, so hey? Might as well. Either way though, Charlie always sees the good in people, hellborn or not. So she would obviously want to help you grow as a person even if you are hellborn.

The michevues aspects of your personality tends to cause some problems for the hotel at times. Fights happen, lessons have ended prematurely, and you may have accidentally caused a bar fight between Angel and Sir Pentious. It really was an accident, how was you supposed to know “borrowing” one of Pentious’ shiny tools would cause such a ruckus?

Charlie lectored you about taking others' stuff and made you apologize.

As much as Charlie doesn’t want to admit it (at least before episode 5) she’s a lot like her dad. That also expands to their likeness for your fur. She really can’t take her eyes away from it, it just looks so soft and neat… and soft… eventually you catch her staring at your tails and you just laugh and ask her if she wants to touch them.

“What!? Pfft, noooo, no no no. hehe…he…unless you’re offering…”

Alastor

Considering Alastor died in the 20’s I don’t think he knows what a Kitsune is exactly. Which is probably why he’s the most interesting in you at first glance (you could have also met when he first manifested in hell, which would only further his intrigue)

Either way, your personalities seemed to mesh well for the most part. You both stir up trouble wherever you go (Alastor a bit more… maliciously than you but still)

Whether you’re hellborn or a sinner is irrelevant to how he treats you, though he has tried making a deal with you every once and a while. You always decline but he thinks it’s always worth a shot to ask.

Alastor is aware of your devious behavior and knows the best way to handle it if it ever happens to come his way. He knows that you’re harmless and not a threat which is exactly why he has taken a liking to you. You’re someone who can only really help his cause and nothing bad can really come out of you being around.

Pranks though, are the one thing that Alastor can’t seem to sway you out of doing. He can’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s been at the front end of them. Of course he always sees through them and they’ve never once worked, but boy are you sure determined to one day get him.

This was one such case where you attempted to steal and hide his radio cane while he was asleep, only for him to sneak up shadow form and scare you half to double death

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to pull one past me, my, oh-so dear, exquisitely fluffy friend”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

oh oh and sugu in formal clothing... i'm so nsjsbdjjdjsjd. like you mentioned comfort is definitely a priority for him! so nothing too fancy, maybe a pair of slacks that are. a little tight on the waist and the Ahem.. a thick (black) button down paired with a worn out leather belt... which feels So sugu to me in every way. AND OF COURSE THE TOP FEW BUTTONS ARE UNDONE

i feel so crazy the way i need him he's so effortlessly handsome and cool. imagine getting ready with him, brushing and tying his hair (he trusts your judgement more than his own! he'll let you handle his precious beautiful long hair because he trusts you soooo much :(() maybe he helps you put on perfume/cologne. and gives you a dozen too many kisses while he's at it I PROMISE IM SO NORMAL ABOUT GETO SUGURU!!!!!!!!!!!

and ending the day with him... tbh i always think suguru is the perfect person to end the day with or lay down or... he's just so comforting and calm and you can absolutely feel at peace just hearing him near you! i can totally see like... both of you passing out on the bed before changing or showering and just finding your way into each other's arms, because who can resist home?

gah sorry for yapping i'm kind of extremely tired from formal event myself... always has me thinking... what if.. what... Geto BUTi'm making myself sick. i've caught the suguru virus and i'm severely ill... the little mice in my brain.. cannot tell if they are happy or sad

from 🌖 anon! ^ ^

ANOTHER 🌖 ANON ASK HEHE it’s my lucky day <333333 THIS MADE ME SO INSANE BTW…

PHEWWWWWWW SUGU IN FORMAL CLOTHING be still my beating heart ……… YOUR DESCRIPTION MADE ME FEEL SO VERY ILLLLL THE TIGHT WAIST??? THE BELT????? COUPLE BUTTONS UNDONE??????? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 you’re trying to kill me…. i KNOW you are…….. no bc you’re so objectively correct it’s crazy . he’s just. classy and comfortable. he doesn’t even need to Try.

he looks so fucking good in a suit it’s insane ……. LOOK AT HIMMM

sick sick man . he’s so pretty . :(((((

AND PLSSSSS THE WAY OUR BRAINS R SO LINKED 😭😭😭😭 me seeing this right after yapping abt how suguru trusts you w his hair in the last ask you sent …… real recognizes real 🫡🫡 NO BC THAT CONCEPT IS SOOO SICKENINGLY SWEET you’re making me yearn for him so hard yk… getting ready w him…… and him trusting your judgement 🥺🥺 honestly sugu strikes me as the kinda bf who’d wear something he didn’t really like just bc you picked it out for him. bc he only really cares about your judgement anyway!!!! might bully you a little but . he does so lovingly <333 and still wears it proudly <33333 bc his baby picked it out just for him……..

OKAY STOP we’re getting too close to me. melting through the floorboards 😭😭 WAHH he’s just such a sweetie…… AND HIM HELPING YOU PUT ON PERFUME/COLOGNE 🥺🥺🥺 he would kiss you so many times it’s crazy…. and i think he uses the opportunity as an excuse to sniff your neck LMAOO. he’s so sly. ”want me to check if it smells okay? :)” <- he just wants to bury his nose into your neck and inhale your scent,… but he can’t do it unless he has a Reason bc he doesn’t want to come off as weird. (satoru on the other hand has no shame and will sniff you randomly and incessantly <333 he just loves your natural scent sm. freak.)

AND THEN . ending the day w him 🥺🥺🥺 ohhhh 🌖 anon you know the way to my heart……… you really really do………… i agree completely :’3 he’s the perfect person to relax and unwind with. helps you shower or take off your makeup if you wear any…. lets you take care of him if you want bc he can’t say no to you and your soft hands…….. and then curling up next to you under the covers and tucking you into his chest. ”because who can resist home?” <- I GENUINELY CRIED I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY :((((( this line reached through my screen and turned my heart into mush…….. who can resist home:(((((((( have you considered a career in poetry my sweet anon. bc i’d gladly read it. he’s your home!!! and you’re his!!!!!

sniffleeeee i feel so sappy today T_T i love him…. and i love you……. never apologize for yapping i love hearing you yap and forcing you to listen to me yap in return <33333 we’re making the sugu brainrot worse for each other aren’t we…… AND PLSS THE MICE IN YOUR BRAIN 😭😭 i hope they’re okay. mine definitely aren’t. terminally ill….. the only cure is suguru geto jjk….. sniffle……….

[christopher067]

IDOL / NECKLACE + EARRINGS

hi ♡ soooo 2 things... guess who has new cc for you today and may or may not have his adhd meds after not having them for like 3 months 🤭 it's me hi you can probably tell lmao. I feel like I haven't put this much stuff out in so long but i'm having a blast sooo 🤪 Today I have for you this stunnningggggg set with a shining and shimmering diamond-studded Cuban link chain necklace and matching hoop earrings! I am obsessed with this chain mesh tbh.. like I think it is so pretty, and of course diamonds make everything just a smidge better lol. Hope you love this settttt !! 💝✨

Necklace

21 Metal Tones

New Mesh by Me

Custom Thumbnail

HQ Mod Compatible

Does NOT have morphs

Earrings

8 Metal Tones

New Mesh by Me

Custom Thumbnail

HQ Mod Compatible

DOWNLOAD NECKLACE

DOWNLOAD EARRINGS

♡

If you use my content be sure to tag me, #christopher067 or @christopher067

If you want to edit my creations check my T.O.U. ♡

⭒ Both of these have my new Prism Version included! So this item has 8 extra swatches that are made to work with the Color Slider Mod by thepancake1 and MizoreYukii. If you have the mod installed you can use the sliders to change the color of the diamonds!! If you do not have the mod then enjoy the extra swatches! ⭒

[sturnlovaa]

°•. IMAGINE — Christopher Sturniolo prying on you while you’re bartending.

cw.. prying, (lowkey) sexualizing, unprotected p n v, mentions of alcohol intake, small argument, established relationship.

💌: i hit 500! soooo 500 special! tysm, especially with how inactive i can get. i appreciate all of you.

as you walked by, Chris' gaze lingers on you, his eyes tracing the curves of your body beneath your bartender uniform. he’s a regular at the bar, but tonight, he seems particularly attentive. he wasn’t that much of a stranger to you, anyways..

as you lean over the bar to pour a drink for another patron, his breath hitches slightly, his eyes fixed on the way your shirt stretches across your back. he takes a sip of his own drink, his grip tightening around the glass as he watches you.

he couldn’t help but think that you may be cold, from the lack of clothing you actually wore, it only being in the high 50’s just outside the building. low 70’s in the walls, if that.

he sets his drink down and stands up, his tall frame towering over the bar as he approaches you. he leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. "you're looking particularly lovely tonight," he says, his voice low and confident.

you flash him a quick, teasing smile as you turn to grab a shaker. "is that so?" you reply, your voice nonchalant as you start mixing a drink for the waiting customer. your eyes dart back to him, noting the way his jaw is set, his posture relaxed yet predatory.

"mhm," he murmurs, his gaze flicking down to where your apron ties around your waist. "and you know what i like about this place?"

you pause, the shaker halfway to the pouring station, and raise an eyebrow at him. "what's that?" you ask, your tone mockingly innocent.

his smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "the view," he says, his gaze slowly trailing up from your hips, over your breasts, to finally meet your eyes. "it's exceptional,"

you roll your eyes playfully, pouring the drink and sliding it to the waiting customer. "flirt," you murmur under your breath, but your smile gives you away. as the customer pays and leaves, you turn your attention back to Chris.

"alright, alright," you say, setting the shaker down and wiping your hands on a towel. "you've had your fun. what can I get for you?" you ask, leaning against the counter across from him, your arms folded underneath your breasts.

his eyes flick down to your cleavage for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again, "i'll have another bourbon," he says, his voice smooth. "neat. and maybe.. a chance to take you out after your shift?"

you bite your lower lip, tilting your head to the side. "take me where?" you ask, your voice soft. you know exactly what he means, but you love making him spell it out.

he grin turns wolfish, his pupils dilated with desire. "out," he says. "on a date. dinner, maybe. or we could skip the formalities and go straight to my place.." his voice lowers an octave, becoming a velvety purr.

you press your lips together, suppressing a smile. you like the way he looks at you, all hungry and intense. "my shift ends at 10," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. "if you can pick me up by then, i might consider it,"

he nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "i'll be here," he promises. "10 sharp," he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, standing up and tossing a few bills on the counter. "see you later, beautiful,"

later that night, his hands are tight around your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto him. the room is filled with the sounds of your moans, his grunts, and the slick, rhythmic sounds of your bodies coming together.

your back arches, your head thrown back against his shoulder, hair cascading down. "Chris..." you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. he growls in response, his arms wrapping around you, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast, the other snaking down to rub tight circles on your core.

his hot breath is on your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he thrusts into you again and again. the room spins, the bed creaks, and your fingers scrabble at the sheets, finding no purchase as you're washed away in a tidal wave of sensation. "come for me,"

you jolt awake, your heart racing, chest heaving. it takes you a moment to realize where you are — your bed. the dream is still vivid in your mind, and you can feel the lingering ache between your legs.

you blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light, and that's when you notice - you're not alone. you’re naked, the sheets tangled around your waist, and there's another body in your bed. a warm, bare arm is slung over your middle, a light thigh hiked over yours.

your breath catches in your throat as you slowly turn your head to the side. he is asleep next to you, his face relaxed, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. last night comes rushing back — the drinks, the laughter, the way he looked at you.. and the things he did to you.

you carefully extract yourself from his arm, not wanting to wake him, and sit up on the edge of the bed. you scan the room until your eyes land on your phone on the nightstand. you pick it up, squinting at the time on the screen - 6:47 AM.

you rub your eyes, yawning. it's early, but you're wide awake now. you glance back at him, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. you tiptoe to the bathroom, grabbing a robe on the way.

you've just tied your robe when you hear him stir behind you. "where are you going?" he mumbles, his voice gravelly with sleep. the sheets rustle as he sits up, the movement stark against the early morning stillness.

you turn to face him, pulling the tie of your robe a little tighter. "you gotta stop showing up at the bar," you say, echoing your words from the last time this happened. which was, what? a month ago? you’ve lost track.

"mmm.." Chris rubs at his eyes, pushing his mussed hair back. "why's that?" he looks at you expectantly, his gaze dropping to where your robe gapes slightly, revealing a tantalizing hint of skin.

you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "because every time you do, it ends with us in bed together, and I can't keep doing this," you say, trying to sound stern despite the warmth spreading through your chest at his sleepy, disheveled state.

he leans against the headboard, the sheets pooling around his waist. "and what's so wrong with that?" he asks, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "i mean, the sex is good, right?" his gaze is challenging, confident. he knows it is. you know it is.

you roll your eyes, even as a flutter stirs in your stomach. "the sex is great, but that's not the point," you insist, trying to maintain your composure. "the point is, we can't keep doing this on a whim every time you're feeling lonely or bored,"

"lonely or bored?" he parrots, his brows furrowing. he swings his legs out of bed, standing up with an ease that's almost graceful. "is that what you think i am? some lonely, bored guy who just.. what? needed a warm body last night?"

he steps closer, his voice lowering. "because if that's what you think, then you clearly don't know me as well as i thought you did," he's right in front of you now, tall and bare and bristling with quiet intensity. you swallow hard, your resolve wavering.

"i.. i just meant.." you stammer, taken aback. Yyou're not used to seeing him like this — intense, almost hurt. you're more used to his easy smiles, his laid-back charm. "i didn't mean.. that's not.." you trail off, at a loss for words.

"let me make it clear, then," he says, his voice low. he reaches out, gently curling his fingers around yours where they clutch at your robe.

"when i come to your bar, it's because i like seeing you. talking to you. being around you. and yes, the fact that we end up in bed together is.. a very welcome bonus," his thumb strokes over your hand, his touch gentle despite the fervor in his voice.

"but it's not just about the sex, okay? it's about us. and I think you know that. so either you start treating our time together with a little more respect, or.." he lets the sentence hang, his gaze searching yours.

"or what?" you prompt softly, your heart pounding in your chest. his words have shaken you. you realize that he's right — you've been dismissing whatever this is between you both as just physical, when it's been so much more all along.

"or we stop tiptoeing around this," he says, releasing your hand to cup your face. his palm is warm against your skin. "and we start dating. for real. no more bar hookups, no more waking up and having 'the talk'. just.. you and me. together,"

his eyes are fixed on yours, his expression open, expectant. you're silent, his words sinking in. he's right. you've both been dancing around this for months now. and suddenly, it feels silly to keep pretending like it's not happening.

"okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible. a small smile spreads across his face, slow and satisfied. "okay?" he repeats, leaning in closer. "so, we're dating now? for real?" his thumb traces your bottom lip, his touch gentle.

"yes," you breathe, leaning into his touch. "for real,"

©sturnlovaa

— tags

@shadowthesim , @ifwdominicfike , @sturniolo04 , @mattsdolll , @sturncakez , @jetaimevous , @biiatrizzz , @blahblogs-stuff , @chlotapcs , @poolover123 , @55sturn , @franticroads , @brvtall , @gwennybenny .

[darling-flora]

main thing 4

lewis hamilton x yn model - social media au

[part 1]

[part 2]

[part 3]

[part 4]

fc : bella hadid

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yourinstagram

Liked by lewishamilton, devonleecarlson and 16,159,944 others

yourinstagram i've been some taking time off after a jaw infection caused my lyme disease flare up. But im thankful to my mama for sticking by me , protecting, supporting , but most of all, believing me through all of this.

Thank you for the patience of the incredible company’s that I work for , my supporters and the people who continued to check in. My lovely love of my life lewis for being there for me when he could, and getting me my little pup bowie to keep me company.

Thank you to my genius Dr, and her INCREDIBLE team of nurses. I love you SO much!!!

I’ll be back when I’m ready

I miss you all so much

I love you all so much

view all comments

lhamfan28 oh wow that's why she's been gone... glad you're getting better y/n !!

yoursister ❤

↳yourinstagram ❤❤

lhamfan81 hope you feel better angel !!

lewishamilton im so proud of you for being so strong! i love more than you'll ever know bby ❤

↳yourinstagram thank you for being there lew !! love you so much 🫶

ynlvrr44 sending so much love your way ❤

carmenmmundt So glad your doing better 🫶

↳yourinstagram ❤

devonleecarlson love you love you, im so blown away by your strength ❤🙌

liked by yourinstagram

ynfan81 glad you have such a strong support system to help you through this 🫶

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yndaily

Liked by lhamfan28, ynfan81 and 578,981 others

yndaily Y/n is in the paddock for qualifying in silverstone along with her dog Bowie !! Y/n is watching from Lewis’ driver room !

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ynfan1 MOTHER IS BACK !!

ynfan3 oh she's serving

ynhamfan9 the custom denim jacket with 44 patches eats !!!!

ynfan5 she looks so good !!!!

lhamfan2 y/n is here ? we are soooo getting a lewis podium

f1fan8 with y/n back for the first time this season i expect a lewis win....

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yndaily

Liked by lhamfan28, ynfan81 and 578,981 others

yndaily Y/n arriving for the race in silverstone !! Y/n is watching from the Mercedes garage !

view all comments

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yourinstagram

Liked by lewishamilton, devonleecarlson and 16,159,944 others

yourinstagram LEWIS WON !!! truly speechless after a day filled with happy tears !! lewis im so proud of you, after almost two years you still find ways to amaze me with your ability to overcome the pressures you face everyday but your dedication and love for this sport pushes you to be better everyday !! i love you so so so much 🤍

view all comments

lhamfan1 HUH 2 YEARS ???? i thought it was just a year ??!?

lewishamilton Thank you y/n for being with me and being there for be, i love you more than words can explain 🤍

↳yourinstagram i love you bby !! 🤍

ynfan2 tears in my eye's these two are so cute

devonleecarlson happy girl !!!!!

yoursister what a day 😪❤

↳yourinstagram ❤❤

ynhamfan44 the first picture 😭

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lewishamilton

Liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 20,559,944 others

lewishamilton YES 🍾🍾🍾 945 days since the last win and it’s finally come home. SILVERSTONE I LOVE YOU. There’s no crowd that deserves this more. This is love, this is family. Thank you all for the love and support. Massive shout to the team as well. Everyone in the garage and back at the factory have given long hard hours for this result. It’s not been easy but it’s brought us back to back wins for the team. Most importantly we didn’t lose hope. We didn’t give up. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU KEEP GOING. STILL WE RISE 🇬🇧🏆❤️ !!!

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lhamfan2 cried every lap he lead the race

yourinstagram im so proud of you mi amor i love you so much 🤍

↳lewishamilton love you my pretty girl 🤍

ynfan1 a ring on y/n's finger is missing from the second picture

fencer 104 wins !!! lets goooo

mercfan7 what a race !!!

georgerussell63 Well deserved !!! 👊🏻

ynfan62 you can always tell how much it means to lewis when he wins !!! MY GOAT 🐐

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pagesix

Liked by lhamfan18, ynfan71 and 978,981 others

pagesix Engaged? Only day's after Lewis Hamilton inherited the win in Belgium, which was the 105th of his career, the racer and supermodel Y/n L/n she's seen around England (after a week in Italy) sporting a ring on her ring finger.

While there hasn't been any official confirmation from their representatives, we can't help but speculate about the importance of the ring.

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ynfan2 omg omg i've been waiting for this

lhamfan4 please been an engagement ring 🙏

ynhamfan1 they're sooooooooo in love, so i wouldn't be surprised but i'd love it !!

f1fan3 a week in italy then seen with a ring ....? they're def engaged

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yourinstagram

Liked by lewishamilton, devonleecarlson and 19,159,944 others

yourinstagram The easiest yes, endlessly in love with you 🤍

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lewishamilton My fiancée 🤍

lewishamilton Love you beautiful 🤍

↳yourinstagram i love you fiancé !! 🤍

devonleecarlson tears in my eyes

liked by yourinstagram

yoursister baby khai misses you two !! she love's her uncle (officially) lewis 😇

↳yourinstagram awwe we'll visit soon, love you !! 💞

carmenmmundt Oh im so happy for you two !!! ❤

↳yourinstagram ty ty !!!! ❤

ynhamlvrr44 my heart can't handle this !! 😭

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lewishamilton

Liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 24,559,944 others

lewishamilton Looking forward to forever with you, I look at you everyday and I know I'm home 🤍

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yourinstagram love you handsome !! 😘💞

↳lewishamilton Love you love you love you forever my pretty girl !!! ❤

mercedesamgf1 Congrats !! ❤💍

georgerussell63 Congratulations to the future bride and groom! 🎉

sebastianvettel Congratulations on your engagement! You and y/n are made for each other. ❤

ynfan6 so happy for these two they truly make each other so happy !!

valtteribottas Wishing you a very long and happy life together.

mickschumacher Cheers to many happy years ahead, congratulations to you both!

f1fan1 never thought i'd seen the day lewis got engaged but they seem perfect for each other

scuderiaferrari Congratulations on your engagement! We're so excited for you both.

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