#mack pat

[officialbugsposts]

I love how affectionate Mack Brown and Pat Narduzzi are with each other every time they meet. I think it's very sexy!

#Mack Brown #Pat Narduzzi #Football Coach #Silverfox #Stud #Sexy Daddies #Handsome Daddies #Thicc Daddies #Affectionate Daddies

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

My EgoPats Meeting the Canon EgoPats

I saw @insane4fandoms post their thoughts on how the EgoPats would each react when Ness came along as the new kid in the fandom. So, I guess you could say I got inspired. Here's a list of each official EgoPat and each of my fanmade blorbo's (Caliban, Patty, Penn, Ozzie, and LeviathanPat's) thoughts on them.

(I've made a bunch of incorrect quotes to reflect these ideas! Go here if you'd like to see them!)

___

Ness

It'd make a lot of sense for my boys to meet Ness via simply eating at Sparky's. After all, they each need to travel sometimes for their work: Patty's gone on many tours and counting with Delux and the rest of his coworkers at the club, Penn goes on an excavation trip with his team or Illinois at least once a month, Ozzie's learned to cover long distances in short times with all the prison-escapes he's pulled off, Caliban has visited several states numerous times in order to complete a hit-job (whether he's managing it himself or is accompanying Murdock, Azalea or any other members of The Pentas Family). . .

In any case, a roadtrip is fundamentally incomplete without pausing to visit a cozy-looking diner. And it's pretty obvious that my fanegos would all enjoy the fun, uplifting vibes that Ness gives off.

Caliban would find Ness' energy to be refreshing. Since he spends a generous amount of time butchering/preparing his own "food," he knows how to appreciate all the things restaurant workers do. (Plus, I can absolutely see him offering some sly, semi-well-hidden puns in response to the typical jokes Ness likes to make with most customers.) And since the Black Market stuff Caliban is involved with makes such a pretty penny, you just know he leaves some quality tips.

Penn would like Ness' spirit. I know I haven't gone too in-depth with his backstory, but I think waiting tables was one of the many odd-jobs Penn worked while he was still studying for his paleontology/archeology degree. And it's safe to say that he probably didn't enjoy it as much as Ness seems to enjoy his job. So, Penn would respect him for taking such a stressful job in stride. He'd also give excellent tips! He would even if he didn't make a lot of money from his fossil-related projects.

Despite the persona he puts on while dancing, Patty is the type of person who gets nervous whenever he has to order something (I would know, I'm the same way). That being said, he'd really appreciate how kind and cheerful Ness is. The lighthearted banter Ness brings to the table would put Patty at ease. Yep, he'd give some above average tips as well.

Ozzie didn't have very many good experiences with restuaraunts when he first started out. That hasn't exactly changed nowadays, so you better believe that he knows to be grateful when he finds a joint where the owners/staff don't automatically seem judgemental or suspicious of him. Hell, he'd even take a generous amount of money from his personal stash to leave as the tip. (I think I'm just trying to say that my boys know how to treat retail/food workers.)

___

The Detective

Because I guess I'm predictable—it'd be impossible for the classic Hannibal Lecter And Will Graham schtick to not fall between Caliban and The Detective. (Of course, Caliban isn't nearly as arrogant as Hannibal, and The Detective most likely wouldn't slip into a corruption arc similar to Will's, but you get the idea.) I can see it now: The Detective putting on a pokerface whenever in Caliban's presence, speaking in a clipped tone, trying to keep an eye on Caliban every minute until they part ways. . .Meanwhile, Caliban would be all-too-happy to try and make The Detective question himself, casually recounting the hit-jobs he's worked on with Murdock, making morbid jokes left, right, and center, occasionally using his experience to offer some surprisingly sound advice for one of The Detective's cases. . .

At first, Ozzie would be very much iffy about interacting with The Detective. Sure, his crimes are merely petty ones (in a relative sense), but he's still mistrusting of anyone who works in law-related fields. Fortunately, my personal headcanon is that The Detective is more of a private consultant who doesn't work with cops unless he absolutely has to, so once Ozzie learns that, he might try to engage with him just a teensy bit. For all the stunts he's pulled, Ozzie has always made a point to never, NEVER hide out at a circus. That'd just be inviting some horror-movie-level shenanigans that he neither needs nor wants to deal with. So, it's safe to say that he'd be pretty sympathetic with The Detective's clown-induced trauma.

Patty would have sort of the same outlook. Considering how exotic work can sometimes be on the grittier side, he's had to talk to a fair amount of authorities. And, as I'm sure you can guess, not all of those authorities were too respectful towards him. But The Detective is nothing like those worse examples, and once Patty saw that, he'd be happy to get to know him. Still somewhat shy, but that's just how Patty is with most people outside of the club.

Penn would be fascinated by all of The Detective's stories (granted, he'd feel awful about the terror The Detective had to go through, but still). Considering he's used to only seeing obscure, somewhat magical/cursed stuff whenever he's working with Illinois, Penn would likely call up the aforementioned adventurer and tell him about what he heard from The Detective. Y'know, to see if Illinois has ever discovered anything similar.

LeviathanPat would mostly see The Detective as just another mortal to toy with. I say mostly, because he could still sense all the supernatural juju clinging to The Detective's mind thanks to his past. And he'd just delight in trying to break that mind into a thousand little pieces. . .good thing The Detective already has experience dealing with crimes against nature, at least. . .

___

Mack

Oh damn. Caliban would have So. Much. FUN picking on Mack. Making vague little threats, lurking around corners, fidgeting with his meat cleaver in plain view. . .it'd get to the point where Caliban would just have to flash a sly, sharp-toothed grin in order to send Mack running the other way. That being said, Caliban wouldn't go out of his way to fully harm Mack; remember, while he is insane, he's still logical enough to not want to butcher someone who looks almost exactly like him. But he'd see all his scare tactics as a way to teach Mack some manners. There's always a bigger fish, after all.

I feel like Penn and Mack would have an interesting dynamic. Thank to his career in paleontology, Penn's already seen a generous amount of strange/unique creatures (or, what's left of them, that is). Meanwhile, despite his primary role on the Invincible II, it's very likely that Mack would end up researching or interacting with various alien lifeforms. So, yeah, those two could potentially have some fun comparing notes. Then again, we know Mack's general attitude, and Penn is the type to not have much patience for stuff like that. "Okay, well, this isn't going anywhere. I'll come back if you decide to stop being a prick for a few minutes."

Same goes for Patty's case with Mack. Now, my dear poledancer girlypop is very much empathetic, and he's always trying to be open-minded. Everyone's lives are different, right? Everyone's dealing with all sorts of things, which can obviously influence behavior in various ways. And while it wouldn't take Patty very long to realize how Mack's egotistical mean-streak is likely the result of something deeper (my personal headcanon is that Mack has some serious self-esteem issues and might think that acting the way he does is just another defense mechanism), that doesn't mean he's just gonna let himself be talked down to. (And perhaps Mack could be just a smidge dazzled by Patty, since I think that would be hilarious to see. Plus, I mean, come on. Have you SEEN Patty? If he's not a nice little dazzling boy then I don't know what is.)

Ozzie's opinion also wouldn't be too high. Back when he was still living on the streets, having to dodge cars and pick pockets in order to survive, he'd lost count of all the people who would scoff and look down their noses as they passed him by. Well, Mack reminds Ozzie of those people, so he won't hesitate to call him out (and mock him right back) whenever he's being annoying.

___

The Hermit

Caliban and The Hermit would trade recipes. Because of course they would. In fact, Caliban would probably see meeting The Hermit as a weird-yet-lucky coincidence. Another cannibal to interact with, plus not having to worry about extra competition in the underground business? Awesome! And, on a more wholesome note: The Hermit would be all about giving Snare all the pets and treats he deserves. Caliban, meanwhile, would be intrigued by The Hermit's pet bats.

Due to all the fossil-digging stuff, it'd be difficult for Penn to not be an outdoorsman. Therefore, he'd be very impressed by The Hermit's tales of surviving in the wild. He'd be concerned at first, but then would swiftly realize just how much of a tough cookie The Hermit truly is.

Ozzie would be in a similar boat. He's had to camp out in the woods a few times while running away from cops, but he knows he couldn't handle that as long as The Hermit apparently has. So, he'd have some serious respect for the scrungly feral man.

Patty's relationship with The Hermit would be much more on the random side, but still very wholesome. Why? Well, if The Hermit happened to see Patty practicing his dance routines, he'd probably applaud and go, "Wowie! I've climbed a lotta trees, but I don't think I could pull off all those spinnin' tricks!" (Keep in mind that this would be completely innocent. Nothing more.) Patty, of course, would be flattered by the compliment. What's more, he'd find The Hermit's comment about tree-climbing adorable.

___

MadPat

Most of my EgoPats would have similar reactions to MadPat: "Nope." "Don't engage." "Avoid eye-contact."

. . .Well, except for Caliban. Because, despite the two of them being killers, Caliban wouldn't be very impressed by Mad. From his perspective, Mad's methods are sloppy (and he's got a point. Seasoned Random Encounters fans have seen how much evidence Mad left in/around the pizzeria). And for another thing, Mad is just kinda irresponsible? Like, yeah, Caliban can see the appeal of arson, but he's met other arsonists who didn't accidentally burn themselves like slices of toast. It would get to a point where Caliban would just be irritated by Mad's antics.

LeviathanPat would also have an. . .odd view of Mad. Primarliy due to how brazen he is. Like, I haven't gone super in-depth with Leviathan's lore, but he definitely had a hand in crafting insanity as a concept. Leviathan breathes surreal dread. He's eaten the odd star or two back in the day (as in, pre-pre B.C.) His shape is almost constantly shifting because just one glance at what he truly looks like would launch enough trauma to make your brain grind itself into a paste! And for a mortal like Mad to just. . .not. Be. Afraid of him? To try and make unhinged smalltalk with him? To be calm and even excited while looking at all the nightmare-fuel that LeviathanPat is literally made out of?! One part of LeviathanPat just might (and that's a colossal might) be impressed by Mad's apparent fortitude. Another part would end up being annoyed by Mad, probably likening him to a mosquito. (Sneaking this in because @insane4fandoms put a particular little gem into a recent doodle page with some of my bois. Thanks so much, friendo).

___

WarfPat

Most of my boys would instinctually know to not get too close to Warf. Even Caliban feels the need to walk on eggshells around him. (Sure, he's had to deal with the insanity of others; and like I said before, he has some insanity himself. But Warf is in a completely different ballpark, so. . .yeah.)

The reason I barely mentioned LevianthanPat with any of the previous egos is because he'd see them as a handful of more hopeless little mortals to try his luck with luring closer to the next window he chooses to lurk behind. . .except for WarfPat, that is. Even though he'd deny it, I think LeviathanPat would be ever-so-slightly intrigued by him. That guy's got the mind-breaking stuff that eldritch abominations specialize in, after all. Therefore, the outer monstrosity would be curious; perhaps he'd even settle for just chatting with Warf rather than trying to trick him.

___

@sammys-magical-au @b-is-in-the-closet

#matpat #egopats #etn3 the detective #ahwm the hermit #iswm mack #ness the waiter #madpat #warfpat #my fan egos #fanmade egos #caliban #caliban the cannibal #patty/dancepat #pat a. cake #penn/pennsylvania #pennsylvania james #ozzie the inmate #leviathanpat

[blue-ravens]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 🤍 -ypq

hi! unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) i'm no fic writer but i have had the great honour of beta reading fics for some very talented writers who also happen to be great big awesome friends of mine. so i'm going to rec five (ok more than five) fics of theirs that i've had a small little teeny tiny part in creating.

decrescendo / roll over beethoven by @movietonight (salvabon on AO3) - so this came from an insane idea mack had a while back, what if charles and mulcahy had swapped fates in gf&a? well, this is the work-in-progress behemoth that it inspired. i'm having great fun swapping ideas and such with mack, and i'm so excited for what happens next.

i never used to look at highway lines as treasure maps by stregatrek on AO3 - one of my top tier favourite fics, written by my good best friend gene, and watching this unfold in real time over chat was just magical. go read this, it's utterly exquisite (also? also? please read from lowest place when virtuous things proceed, also by my bestie because it actually never fails to make me cry. one of the very first 'charles goes to maine' fics, i might add. also also!! wish that you were here is one theeeee superior donna/charles fic series i've ever had the great fortune of being involved with so read that as well, you'll thank me later)

the home series by @onekisstotakewithme - i had a somewhat small role in this epic fic series but i think you should just read this anyway because this is a true master at work here. i just provided a few commas : )

a winter night by @vanillatumbleweedscoffee/@patsdrabbles (summertimepoet on AO3) - this originally came from a prompt for a fic i gave to the very lovely and talented pat on here a while back, and ohhh this melted me into a puddle of goo. also. because pat is just that that good, there's also art!! love you pat <3

shizukana yoi ni, hikario tomoshi (in the quiet of the night, let our candle always burn) - my baby my bestie my beloved, the modern au fic that started it ALL. it's got all you could want. fake dating. mutual pining. angst. whump. a killer queen soundtrack. i cannot tell you how much fun i had with this one, and honestly we had so much fun with this little project, and it shows. ally has the great honour of christening the charles/donna ship tag on AO3 and when she can filling it with such quality, it's safe to say it's pretty much her tag now. we are not worthy.

so you heard it here first, if you want the best and the most impeccable charles/hawkeye, charles/donna, or heck, charles/hawkeye/donna vibes going, these are the authors whose archives you should be rummaging around in like a feral raccoon in a supermarket dumpster. GO NOW and read them all and leave comments and kudos, and then come back and yell with me about them. you're welcome.

#thanks for the ask i hope this suffices <3 #mash #otp: and their sons #otp: blueberry pancakes #fic #ally #mack #pat #ask #blue's post

[mikeladano]

REVIEW: Extreme - Extragraffitti (1990 Japanese EP)

View On WordPress

#Boston #classic rock #ep #Extragraffitti #extreme #Extreme II: Pornograffitti #Gary Cherone #guitar hero #heavy metal #japanese import #Mack #Nuno Bettencourt #Pat Badger #Paul Geary #Pornograffitti #remixes #rock music #shredders

[b-is-in-the-closet]

Helllllp I want to write more fanfiction,,, but I’ve got no ideas,,,

In the meantime take these Mack headpat gifs

#iswm mack #gif #head pats #feel free to repost #feel free to use #i still don’t know how to use tumblr #just btw #custom

[doubleclutch]

#basketball #Bernie Mack #damian lillard #pat beverly

[mccall-me-maurice]

Yes!!!

i don’t know the context of this ask,,,,

regardless,,,

#i love anons theyre always so nice and sweet and small and i love them #pats every anon ever #mail!! #mack rambles #anon #HEE HEE

[frankielbbh]

there isn’t a fictional character i want to hug more than tj kippen

#andi mack #tj kippen #he’s just #just wanna ask him how’s he’s doing #give him a little pat on the head #he’s so comfort character

[princessmaybank]

Ride The Cowboy

Pairings: JJ x BestFriend!Fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, riding, creampie

Summary: JJ got a new cowboy hat and reader has no idea about the rule.

Authors Note: I had a smut written for a request. It was JJ and reader with the cowboy hat rule but it got deleted! It was anonymous so I hope whoever requested this sees it and enjoys!!!

(Edit: I changed the gif bc he's got a cowboy hat on 🤭 idk who these belong to but they aren't mine so credit to whoever made these!)

JJ found this random black cowboy hat at one of our shops in town. I didn't think he was serious when he said he wanted to buy it because it's not even his style.

Anyway he's been wearing it for a fucking week, trying to act all country and it's so fucking annoying. He has started using a country accent trying to be funny, but it was just so, so lame.

We were at the boneyard having the time of our lives. JJ and I were dancing together, giggling and having some normal fun, until he started talking like he was from Texas.

I was so fed up. I reached for his hat and threw it onto my head. "Look at me, I'm JJ, all I ever do is talk with an accent and twirl around in my cowboy hat!!" I said, very annoyed with a terrible attempt at a country accent.

JJ was staring at me in awe, which got the attention of our friend Pope, whose jaw went slack as well. Pope walked over and rested his arm on JJ's shoulder. "She doesn't know does she?" Pope looked at JJ with the most dead serious look I've ever seen. What the hell was he talking about???

"I don't think she does." He grinned and started laughing. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at his feet then back to Pope. "What are you talking about?!" I asked frantically. "Have fun cowboy." Pope said patting JJ's back while walking away. I give JJ a questioning look.

He got extremely close to my body, yet he was still towering over me. Damn this boy was tall. JJ took my hands in his. "You don't know the cowboy hat rule?" He asked smirking down at me. "These things have fucking rules too???" He giggled. "Yes but this one is probably the most important." Somehow he got closer, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as I thought. "What is it??" I asked getting annoyed because he was playing games at this point.

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

His face never changed from that smug little smirk, but my eyes got wide. I hit his chest, he was my best friend. "No way Maybank, that's probably something you made up to get you laid." He grinned. "It's not I swear, if you don't believe me look it up."

Unfortunately I did, and he was right. It was some kind of sick joke. "Well I didn't know so it doesn't count!" I crossed my arms. "Hey, rules are rules baby." He was holding my hips now. Why were butterflies filling my stomach? I've never thought of JJ this way. It would be so wrong. "So is no pogue on pogue macking!" I say trying my hardest to find a way out of this, but of course he's ready for whatever I say. "First of all, John B and Sarah are right over there, basically eating each other's faces. Second of all, it's not macking, it's riding baby." He smiled to himself because he knew he won.

JJ walked us to the Twinkie, where we wouldn't be bothered. "You just want an excuse to fuck your best friend!" I say fighting the best I could. "I could say the same about you! I didn't tell you to steal my hat! And you're still wearing it!" He laughs so hard after he gets his sentence out. I was blushing when I quickly took his hat off and threw it at him.

I was hovering over him, very anxious. He had a huge grip on my hips. "We do not have to do this if you don't want to." He says while holding me up. "JJ, I'm already naked. Plus you said it, rules are rules." Before I could change his mind or my own, I started easing myself down onto his dick. JJ let out a slight hissing sound as I went lower. Not gonna lie, I did need to get fucked. It was probably why I found him so annoying this week.

JJ helped me move at a pace that made us both feel good. "Come here." He pulled me in with a motion of his finger. "Might as well break a rule while we're at it." He smirked before attaching his lips to mine. JJ sat up and put his back against the seat, never pulling out. I pulled his hands away from my hips and to my tits, making him squeeze them as I bounced on his dick all by myself. I couldn't believe I was riding my best friend.

"Fuck Y/N/N don't stop." Woah. JJ called me by my nickname while I was bouncing on his huge cock. How fucking hot. Can't believe I'm saying this but I think I'm catching feelings in the middle of all of this. "Fuck I'm cumming!" I yell as my body starts spasming, I feel his dick shoot his hot liquid into me after I was done. JJ pushed my hips up and down, helping us ride out our orgasms.

He started spooning me after I put my clothes back on and laid down. "JJ I don't wan-" Before I could finish he interrupted me. "Y/N, I can't handle it anymore. I need to be with you, especially now. Now that I've had a little taste of you, I don't think I could let you go and just continue being just your best friend." He was hovering over me now. "I was thinking the same thing." That made us both smile.

We popped up when we heard the side door slam open. "I'm assuming she followed the rules?" Pope giggled staring at JJ, making him giggle as well. They high fived as I rolled over to hide in JJ's chest.

#help me find who asked anon #jj maybank #outer banks #obx fic #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank smut #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank imagine #cowboy hat rule

[dmercer91]

perfect girl, ms25

in which mackie spends the day with the sophomores best girl (set last season, 18+!!)

i feel the need to apologize for this but alas i will not,

enjoy! (this is 2.4k words of porn with no plot. mackie samo the man that you are)

your legs were sprawled over marks lap when a knock on the door stole your attention, a small tap to your thigh the force that brought it back

“probably food for mackie. bring it to him for me, hm?” you nodded softly, sliding off him and standing up, heading towards the door.

you bent to grab the bag, nodding to mark to confirm it was food, and then heading upstairs towards mackie’s door.

you knocked softly, waiting for his hum of approval before opening the door and stepping in, but not moving towards the bed.

a movie played on his tv and he’d been laser focused on it before you’d come in.

“hi, mack. i brought you your food,” you murmured, his eyes scanning you before he sat up and patted his lap, grinning

“thank you, baby. c’mere,” he said, confirming he wanted you on him.

you closed the door gently, shuffling over to the side of his bed and setting down the food as you found your way to his side, not on his lap but your legs laid over his.

he opened his bag and pulled out his meal, getting a couple bites in before he moved his fork toward your mouth and you blushed

“i’m ok, thank you,” he tilted his head, fork remaining in place.

“have some, baby. s’ good,” he insisted, moving the fork closer and raising his eyebrow at you. you parted your lips, letting him feed you and nodding after you’d finished, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“good,” you confirmed, earning a satisfied chuckle from mackie.

“d’you wanna watch my movie with me, baby? or is mark wanting you back,” he asked, looking down at you while piling his last bite of food, cleaning up his takeout container and setting it on his bedside table.

“wanna stay with you,” you mumbled, looking up at him with a small smile.

mackie had always taken good care of you. they all did, but mackie especially.

mark gave you the most attention, but he could get rough and distracted. ethan was a little all over the place, and you had a hard time reading what kind of mood he’d be in.

luke, despite often allowing you to steal his bed and clothes, only truly used you when he was having it really tough. dylan was sweet to you, but you found him quiet and a little too tame, though you loved him outside of your alone time

mackie took his time- he knew how to use his words and he controlled you in a way that meant you’d be sated. like he was telling you what he wanted, but it was only ever for your benefit

so if you had been given the option to spend a few hours with him, you’d take it in a heartbeat.

he laid down, pulling at your waist so you’d join him, wrapping his arm around you fully once you’d settled with your back against his chest.

the movie played quietly while you dozed off in his arms, his fingers eventually finding their way to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up around your hips and then moving to the band of your panties

your body shifted, subconsciously allowing him to slip them off you and throw them the the floor.

“you think i can just slip right in, baby? you’re fuckin’ made for me, won’t need to get you ready, hm?” his words went in one ear and out the other, your dazed hum confirmation enough for him.

so, he did as he said, gliding the head of his cock along your core a few times before pressing into you, a shocked gasp immediately slipping from your lips as you blinked tiredness from your eyes.

“mack- nh. mackie, you-“ your eyes fluttered shut again when he adjusted, but then kept still, a soft chuckle echoing in your ear.

“there’s a good girl,” he cooed, watching in awe as you squirmed to adjust to him. “just wanted you to warm me, baby. gonna stay right there with me inside you,”

a sweet moan tumbled from your lips as his hand ghosted over your stomach, barely grazing the bulge he was causing.

your head leaned back against his shoulder, eyes wide looking up at his with tears collecting on your waterline.

“shh, baby,” he soothed his hands along your hips gently, kissing your temple as you tried to relax into him now that you’d almost adjusted “feel full?”

you gulped, nodding to his question. “yeah? y’ can feel me stretchin’ you? feels good?” he smirked, tilting your jaw so you’d continue to look at him.

“so good, mack.. n’ deep- so, so deep,” you babbled, a small whine following your words. you’d wanted so badly for him to move- rock his hips a little. but he said he wanted you to warm him, so you listened.

“such a patient baby girl. so perfect f’ me,” he whispered, a little dazed and lost in his own control over you- but still maintaining it.

“watch the movie, baby,” he released your jaw, nodding to the tv screen and kissing your temple sweetly. you nodded, trying to keep your attention centred on the plot and not the aching wish that he’d move- just give you a little friction.

his phone buzzed with a text from the sophomore group chat, and a smirk found it’s way back to his lips.

from, estapa: princess still up with you, samo?

from, samo: watching a movie

from, eddie: fuckin hog

mackie chuckled to himself, kissing your temple again and mumbling your name into your ear sweetly. you hummed, sparing him a glance before letting your eyes drift to his phone that he’d set in front of you.

“you wanna give them a little show, baby?” you furrowed your eyebrows, not clueing in to what he meant until he opened his camera and adjusted your legs so your knees were up to your chest.

you moaned at the movement, watching his phone carefully as he angled it to snap a picture of him seethed inside you, your grown arousal drooling from your centre and leaving shining spots on your inner thigh

“fuck. prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen. can i show them, baby? show them how good you take me?” you bit your lip, contemplating his request as he readied the picture to send and hovered over the blue arrow

“only the sophomores?” you looked up at him, lip still slid between your teeth, this time with question.

he nodded “only for us, baby,” you nodded gently, watching as the picture sent with the message he’d typed

from, samo: attachment, 1 image

from, samo: warming me like she’s made for it

from, estapa: jfc

from, estapa: she’s fucking perfect

from, lukey: how can u not be moving

from, lukey: i’d have broken as soon as i started

from, eddie: she’s always so good for you

from, duker: fuck me shes pretty

from, samo: show that to anyone and i cut your dicks off

mackie chuckled as you squeezed around him, flustered at the compliments and desperate for him to start moving

“please, mack, i’ve been so good,” you blurted, his head cocking to the side. “i know you have, baby. gotta be patient with me, though,”

you fought the urge to whine at his denial, instead nodding obediently and trying to focus once more on the movie that was playing. if you’d seen it before, you were too distracted to piece together what it actually was.

he smiled, peppering your neck and shoulders with kisses and gently adjusting his hips, your walls immediately fluttering around him and a breathy whine of his name falling from your lips

“i love those pretty noises you make,” he murmured, his hips starting to rock back and forth, slowly but hard and deep. you reached for his hands, planted on your waist, and squeezed his wrist, crying out from pleasure

“mackie, mackie, it feels so good,” you squeezed both his hand and his cock, leaning your head back on his shoulder with your eyes fluttered shut

he hummed in appreciation, kissing your temple but keeping focused on his thrusts, moving his hand to your belly once more and adding a little pressure

you tried to squirm away, your eyes opening to look up at his and beg, to no avail. “you’re okay, baby, i’ve got you. bet that feels like heaven, hm?” he cooed, watching as your eyes watered again from the pressure building in the pit of your stomach

you only moaned in response, keeping eye contact with him for as long as he stayed looking down at you- his soft gaze a contrast from how harsh his thrusts were.

“you feel so good, baby girl. makin’ me feel so good. n’ you’re behaving like a pretty angel for me, such a good girl,” he praised, bringing his free hand up to cup your face and watch as you flushed, nodding

“jus’ wanna be perfect for you, mack. wan- nh, wanna be your good girl,” you cried, stuttering as his hand pressed harder on your stomach.

he pressed a soft kiss to your nose, pulling his head back when you leaned in to kiss his lips. you whimpered, moving your hands from his wrist to tangle into his hair and try again.

he obliged, the hand on your chin moving down to rub circles on your clit. you moaned into the kiss, tugging at his hair a little while your body started to writhe

you clamped your legs around his hand, pulling away from the kiss to moan, try and warn him how close you were. all you could get our way was stutters of his name or profanity

“shhh, baby. i know, i’ve got you. you can go ahead,” he whispered, cooing sweet nothings into your ear as you fell apart, thighs twitching and your walls suffocating him

he fucked you through it, getting ready to pull out as you caught your breath.

“no, no. stay, please stay inside” you begged, feeling him throb inside you and knowing he was close.

“i’ll come, baby. was gonna finish in your mouth,” you shook your head, choking on your lack of breath before finally finding your words and pleading with him

“want you to come inside. please? want you to fill me,” you begged, his pace having slowed down. both of your hands had moved to his lower back, trying to keep him seethed inside you

his hips twitched, a groan falling from his lips at your request.

“baby, you know i can’t. s’ against the rules,” he calmly explained, earning a sad look from you, leant on his shoulder. your hands made no effort to move and he kissed your forehead, trying to pull out of you.

“please, mack. please, s’ all i want. i’ve been so good. i won’t tell, i promise,” you knew he could’ve easily slipped out- he was stronger than you on any day, not to mention how fucked out you were

“you have been such a good girl for me, baby, so fuckin’ perfect all the time, but-“ your walls fluttered around him at the praise, his breath hitching while he tried to shake his head of the image of himself dripping from you

to no avail.

“fuck. okay, baby. i’ll come inside you. i’ll stuff you full of me n’ i want you on your back the second i pull out of that pretty pussy, alright? wanna watch you leak w’ me,”

you nodded quickly, your hands moving to grab onto his while his thrusts got a little rougher, your walls clenching around him while you felt your second orgasm near

“mack.. mackie, i- fuck” you moaned, a sweet chuckle coming from his lips before he focused on nipping at your shoulders, giving a little more pressure on your stomach

“so big, mh. full, feel so full,” you mumbled, doing your best to praise him into speeding up, your second release teetering on the edge.

“yeah? you like bein’ stretched, don’t you baby,” he quickly replied, pressing kisses to the marks he left on your shoulders and neck

“do you wanna come together, baby? m’ so close. feel so good squeezing me.. like im on top of the world,” he cooed, feeling your head nod immediately, your walls fluttering at the compliment

“alright, baby. one,” he paused, speeding up his thrusts “two. there you go, baby, you’ve got it,” he praised, watching as you struggled to adjust to his newfound pace

he murmured three, your body tensing during your orgasm as you tried to savour the feeling of him spilling into you.

he bit back his moans, a few whines slipping from his pressed lips as your body shook in his arms. you were a mess- haphazard moans of swears and his name breathy and beautiful as they fell, his cock aching at the way you were squeezing him

as you both came down, he let you catch your breath before pulling out of you, a sweet whine indicating your oversensitivity.

as told, you rolled onto your back and spread your legs for him, watching carefully as he got up and kneeled in front of you.

he kissed the inside of your knee, watching in awe as his load drooled from you, mixed with your own arousal.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby. look at you,” he reached over for his phone once more, taking a picture of the mess he’d made of you. he flipped the phone, watching as your cheeks heated

“that one’s just for me, yeah? a reminder of how good you are just for me,” he soothed his hands along your thighs, still dazed at the sight in front of him.

you nodded in agreement, eyes fluttering in and out of sleep due to your exhaustion.

“alright, pretty baby. let’s get you in the bath. staying with luke tonight?” you shook your head weakly, reaching out for him and being given his hand.

“wanna stay with you,” he grinned, nodding and squeezing your hand like you had his.

“then you’ll stay with me, angel,”

#e’s fics #e goes a little feral #best girl mini series ! #mackie samoskevich #mackie samoskevich x reader #mackie samoskevich smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #mackie 😵‍💫

[officialbugsposts]

All these sexy coach daddies! Mmm... Mack with the belly bulge, sexy as always. I think Mark Stoops finally stopped wearing underwear, he's been bulging more than usual lately. Probably cause he's single and on the prowl. lol. Narduzzi looking great with that thicc dad bod. And BK, just hot as always.

#Mack Brown #Mark Stoops #Pat Narduzzi #Brian Kelly #Football Coaches #Sexy #Walking #Suits & Ties #Blonde Daddies #Silverfoxes #Handsome Daddies #Thicc Daddies #Week 4

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

My EgoPats Meeting the Canon EgoPats (Brought To You by Incorrect Quotes)

Yep, I finally decided that this post deserved to be expanded on. So, to absolutely no-one's surprise, I gave it the ol' college try with memes.

___

[Caliban has just returned from visiting Theory Manor. He’s now ranting to Murdock about WarfPat]

Caliban: Listen to what one of my STUPID doppelgängers did! Caliban: Apparently one of his “guests” ended up dying in his studio, and he offered the body to me. And since we’ve been in-between jobs lately, I was like, “Sure, why not?” Caliban: So, I cooked the best parts, then I went to town. . .and every two minutes, he added salt. Caliban: And it was weird. It almost tasted like sweet potato. Caliban: I asked, “Did this guy eat a lot of candy before he died? Or was he on drugs?” Caliban: And Warf said, “Noooo.” Caliban: Every two minutes, he added salt, salt, sALT, SALT! It was like he wanted to poison me! Caliban: And when I finished eating, he asked, “How did you like the human flesh wiTH SUGAR?” Caliban: . . .HE USED SUGAR INSTEAD OF SALT! Caliban: *starts shaking Murdock by the lapels of his overcoat* SUGAAAAAAAAAAR!!!!!!!

___

[The EgoPats are using an Ouija board] The Detective: Tell us. . .is there an otherworldly creature in this house or on its grounds? LevianthanPat: *is right outside the nearest window, but has decided to use his powers to speak through the board before he actually starts talking* ¥ê§. MadPat: Great! Rent is due on the first of the month. WarfPat: Oh, and movie night is on Friday if you want to hang out. LeviathanPat: *genuinely caught off-guard* . . .Wåï†, WHĆ—?!

___

Mack: So, for that party I told the guys about. . .do you, uh. . . Patty/DancePat: Oh, are you not sure how to dress for it? Mack: *panicked* WHAT IS CLOTHES???

___

[Caliban and The Hermit’s first meeting is going pretty well.]

The Hermit: —and then I said, “I didn’t realize that I would be having some guests. . .for dinner!” Caliban: *laughs* Ah, that’s a classic! Mack: *watching from a distance and ranting to The Detective* —no nO NO, we are NOT dealing with TWO OF THEM!

___

WarfPat: Hey, new guy! Trick or ye— LeviathanPat: *conjures an Uno Reserve card* ñÖ

___

The Detective: If I have to clean one more bloodstain from this carpet, I’m going to murder someone. Caliban: Sounds a little counterproductive.

___

The Detective: I'm not doing too well. Penn/Pennsylvania: What's wrong? The Detective: I have this headache that comes and goes. [LeviathanPat manifests outside the nearest window] The Detective: And there it is again.

___

The Hermit: What is toothpaste if not bone soap? Caliban: . . .You are a complete and total treasure. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.

___

Penn/Pennsylvania: We call that a traumatic experience. Penn/Pennsylvania: *turning to The Detective* Not a “bruh moment” Penn/Pennsylvania: *turning to The Hermit* Not “sadge” Pennsylvania: *turning to MadPat* And DEFINITELY not “oof lmao”

___

Mack: *scoffs* Clearly, you don’t own an air fryer. Clearly. Caliban: *chuckles dryly* I’m not gonna be talked down to by some arrogant, condescending, delusions-of-grandeur-prone SIDE-DISH. Caliban: If you want to insult me, go right ahead. But you have no idea how brutal that’s gonna get. You don’t even know my name! Caliban: *steps closer to Mack, almost getting in his face* I ' m t h e c o m b i n a t i o n o f y o u a n d a c r a z y i s l a n d h e r m i t f r o m a d i f f e r e n t t i m e l i n e .

___

The Detective: Define “dream”. LeviathanPat: Ðrêåm—†hê £ïr§† †hïñg þêðþlê åßåñÐðñ whêñ †hê¥ lêårñ hðw †hê wðrlÐ wðrk§. The Hermit: Oh, c’mon! That’s just too dark!

___

Ness: Do you support LGBTQIA+ rights? Patty/DancePat: . . .I’m literally a girlypop and exotic dancer?? WarfPat: He’s avoiding the question!

___

MadPat: Gatekeep, girlboss, and. . .what's the other one again? LeviathanPat: †hêrê ï§ñ'† åñð†hêr ðñê. ¥ðµ'rê ¢råz¥.

___

Caliban: He doesn’t deserve you! If he doesn’t treat you right by now, you’re gone! Ness: *taking a deep breath* I’m gone. Caliban: *nodding and grinning* Now gO CHOP HIS DICK OFF—

___

Penn/Pennsylvania: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant. Mack: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

___

[The EgoPats are discussing a plan. Ozzie has taken his turn to speak, standing with a whiteboard at the head of the room] Ozzie: Anyone have any questions? Ness: Is this legal? Ozzie: . . .Anyone have any relevant questions?

___

The Detective: Are you seriously making human-bacon for breakfast?! Caliban: *looking away from the bacon-filled frying pan he’s using* Yeah. What’d you have for breakfast? The Detective: . . .Nothing. Caliban: *shrugs, returning his focus to the frying pan* I’m doing better than you, man.

___

Penn/Pennsylvania: What’s up with you? Mack: What do you mean? Penn/Pennsylvania: You’ve been nice and helpful and considerate all day. What’s your game?

___

[The Detective recently griped to Caliban about a recent case. Now Caliban is trying to convince The Detective to do something highly unconventional to make progress with said case.l]

Caliban: DO IT! The Detective: NOOOOO! GOD, PLEASE NO! Caliban: MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! The Detective: NO! Caliban: JUST— The Detective: NO! Caliban: — D O I T ! The Detective: N O O O O O O O ! ! !

___

Patty/DancePat: I can't believe you've done this. . . Ness: I'm sorry, I didn't know—! Patty/DancePat: *on the verge of tears* YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE WHEN I HAVE NOTHING PREPARED FOR YOU IN RETURN! NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE JERK!

___

The Hermit: Onion rings are vegetable donuts. Mack: Sure. . . The Hermit: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed. Mack: Okay? The Hermit: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake. Mack: . . . The Hermit: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio— Mack: Jesus, that one is a little— Caliban: *was just passing through but is now interested* No, no. Let him continue

___

[A plan involving paranormal investigation has gone terribly wrong, and The Detective is almost out of options]

The Detective: *begrudgingly holding a dark ritual* If you are here, speak to us! LeviathanPat: *slowly manifests outside the window. . .and starts singing “Don’t Stop Believin’.” With each lyric, his voice shifts in a very disturbing way* JÚ§† Ä Ç̆-Ä¥ ßÖ¥! The Detective: *grinds his jaw, having even more regrets than before* LeviathanPat: ßÖRñ ÄñÐ RÄ̧ÈÐ Ìñ §ÖÚ†H—!

___

WarfPat: What kinds of sounds annoy you? Ozzie: Are we talkin’ real sounds or imaginary ones? WarfPat: *now interested* Lets say imaginary. Ozzie: Spiders wearin’ flip flops.

___

[MadPat is trying to talk killer-to-killer with Caliban. So far, he’s only succeeded in annoying Caliban]

MadPat: Every time I go out there, I feel like I do my best and they don’t! Caliban: *has heard all about how sloppy Mad’s methods are, how much evidence Mad always seems to leave behind, as well as how Mad trapped himself in a fire only to get caught by the police* Let me ask you a very fair question—What do you do successfully? MadPat: . . . Caliban: *raising an eyebrow* QUICKLY. MadPat: *scowls and storms off*

___

The Detective: You need a hobby. LeviathanPat: Ì ålrêåÐ¥ håvê å hðßߥ! The Detective: Terrorizing people is nOT A HOBBY!

___

Ness: Ducks are better than rabbits. Penn/Pennsylvania: What? Rabbits are adorable. Have you ever been in a fight with a duck? Ducks are jerks. WarfPat: Duck is delicious! Rabbit is all gamey. Ness: We’re not talking about flavor, Warf! WarfPat: Flavor counts! The Detective: Who carries around a duck’s foot for good luck? Anyone? Mack: You wrap yourself in a comforter stuffed with rabbit hair. I’ll wrap myself in a comforter stuffed with duck feathers. Who’s cozier? Penn/Pennsylvania: Okay, but— Mack: NO, NO, NO, NO. WHO’S COZIER? MadPat: Why don’t we just take a rabbit and a duck, stick ‘em in a cardboard box and let them fight it out? Penn/Pennsylvania: BECAUSE THAT’S ILLEGAL! MadPat: ONLY IF WE BET ON IT! Caliban: *sitting in the adjacent room, listening in on the debate. He’s not sure if Snare could get roped into it, because Snare is a hare and not a rabbit, but he’s still holding him protectively* . . .

___

Ness: *calling up the stairs from the kitchen* I made lightly-fried fish fillets for dinner! The Detective: . . .Ness, it’s one-fifteen AM. What the hell? Ness: Do you guys want the lightly-fried fish fillets or not? Ozzie: *pokes his head out of one of the guest rooms* Well, I mean, yeah. Ness: So come downstairs before they get cold. Penn/Pennsylvania: *comes out of another guest room* Wait, you just made them? Ness: Yeah, I wasn’t tired, so I decided to make lightly-fried fish fillets. LeviathanPat: *has been watching/listening to all of this through the kitchen window* §å¥ "lïgh†l¥-£rïêÐ £ï§h £ïllꆧ" ðñê mðrê †ïmê.

___

Patty/DancePat: When you’re shopping at Lush and another customer comes in and bites one of the soap options because they think it’s cheese. . .I talked to one of the employees about it, and apparently this sort of thing happens way more frequently than you’d think. Mack: Well, if Lush stopped literally presenting soap as deli food, then this wouldn't happen so frequently. Patty/DancePat: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese??? The Detective: . . .Who goes to the deli section of a store and just takes a bite out of the cheese?!

___

[MadPat keeps trying to antagonize Caliban, as if THAT will somehow change Caliban’s opinion of him]

MadPat: *pacing the floor in front of Caliban* And I’m not gonna conversate with you! I’m not gonna invest time in— Caliban: *organizing some Black Market stuff on his laptop, not paying Mad too much attention* I think it’s “converse.” MadPat: . . .Huh? Caliban: *rolling his eyes* Just say “talk.”

___

Penn/Pennsylvania: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours. Ozzie: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia over here. MadPat: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred. Ness: . . .You guys can be terrifying sometimes.

___

The Detective: Oh, you’re back from that outing. What’d you think of that Patty guy? Ness: I can’t remember how we got on the topic of beaches, but he referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter." The Detective: . . . Ness: I don't know how someone so awesome can be so anxious all the time!

___

Mack: You’re making fun of me now, aren’t you? Ozzie: What? Oh, no-no-no, Mack. I’d never—*suddenly points past Mack* MACK LOOK IT’S CALIBAN! Mack: *turns around in a panic* WHERE?! [As it turns out, Caliban is, in fact, nowhere to be seen] Mack: *blinks, pretty much frozen in place* Ozzie: *falls to the floor, laughing hysterically*

___

The Hermit: Let's all agree that going up the stairs on all fours is actually the best experience on earth. Penn/Pennsylvania: Conversely, going down the stairs on all fours is actually the most terrifying experience on earth.

___

Patty/DancePat: Yeah, so, my latest shift at the club was a little rough. Heh. . . Ness: *concerned* Why are you looking up? Patty/DancePat: I need to CRY, but my foundation cost FORTY-EIGHT DOLLARS.

___

The Hermit: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder? Ness: Well. . .I mean, it’s frowned upon. Caliban: Yeah, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? The Hermit: *nodding along* That’s okay, right?

___

LeviathanPat: ¥ðµ kñðw whå† Ì’vê rêålïzêÐ? The Detective: Some thoughts are better left unsaid? LeviathanPat: ñï¢ê †r¥, åñ¥w套

___

Ness: So they were just using me? Penn/Pennsylvania: I’m sorry, Ness. Mack: *trying to contain his amusement* You must feel pretty stupid right now. Ness: . . . Penn/Pennsylvania: Okay, that’s a time-out. Mack: No, I was just trying to— Caliban: *using his meat cleaver to gesture to the corner of the room* Go sit over there! Mack: *walks away in defeat*

___

Mack: *entering the room, unable to see what's going on just yet* I’m going to dunk on you— Patty/DancePat: *is wearing heels AND is currently practicing some new pole-dancing moves* You’d better bring a ladder, then.

___

The Detective: *exhausted from supernatural shenanigans* Please, God, just let me have one peaceful day?! LeviathanPat: Öh m¥ GðÐ, ¥ðµ ågåïñ? Gïvê ï† å r꧆, ßµÐÐ¥! The Detective: I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU!

___

Penn/Pennsylvania: A riddle for you, my friend! So it’s raining, right? And you pass a bus stop. There are three people there—your most trustworthy friend, a pregnant lady who needs to go to the hospital, and the person of your dreams. However, your smart car only fits two people. What do you do? Ness: Oh, I’ve heard this one before! You lend the car to your friend so they can take the pregnant lady to the hospital, and then you stay at the bus stop with your dream person! Penn/Pennsylvania: Oh, so close, but wrong. The correct answer is as follows—you go home and reEVALUATE YOUR DAMN LIFE! Penn/Pennsylvania: *grabs Ness by the collar and starts playfully shaking him* YOU! BOUGHT! A! SMART! CAR!

___

[Caliban leads Mack over to a closet]

Mack: *walks into the closet* Um. . .what’s in here? Caliban: Oh, it’s just—*turns the room’s light off and grabs the door handle* —YOUR DEMISE. Mack: AHHHHH—! Caliban: *slams the door and locks it*

___

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @b-is-in-the-closet

#incorrect quotes #memes #matpat #egopats #my fan egos #fanmade egos #caliban #caliban the cannibal #patty/dancepat #pat a. cake #penn/pennsylvania #pennsylvania james #leviathanpat #ozzie the inmate #iswm mack #etn3 the detective #ness the waiter #madpat #warfpat

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off. 

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema. 

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later. 

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.  

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, with his love for football, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock. 

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year. 

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality. 

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?" 

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

< prev ch [2] | next ch [4] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

#saintescuderia #f1 #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #ferrari formula one #mclaren formula 1 #ferrari formula 1 #formula 1 #formula one #formula 2 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #oscar piastri #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #red bull racing #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #lh44 #mercedes amg petronas #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction

[eyesofshinigami]

Eddie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, very very mild sexual content (blink and miss it)

Prompt: For @lihhelsing "Love is helping them unwind after a rough day"

WC: 852

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 19

Eddie knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as he woke up. He managed to stub his toe twice on the way to the shower. His waffles got burnt in the toaster and they were out of syrup. He missed the bus by a minute, watching it drive away from the stop just as he ran up to it. It started raining while he was waiting for the next bus, so of course he got drenched.

He hoped that it had ended there, but no. Eddie got to work fifteen minutes late due to a traffic jam, wet and hungry and already done with today. His boss yelled at him and put him on tape-sorting duty, marking down the new shipment of tapes. Of course, halfway through, his pen exploded and covered him and the sheet he was using, so he had to start over.

By the time the end of his shift had rolled around, Eddie was tired, had a headache the size of Montana, and he was ready to throw himself into the void. Mack, the other guy on shift, patted him on the back and all it did was make his skin crawl. 

The journey home wasn’t much better. The bus was late again, and Eddie couldn’t find a seat so he had to stand. The bottom of his sneaker apparently acquired a random hole and he had to walk back to their apartment with wet socks.

Eddie was done. He was so fucking done that all he wanted to do was crawl into the bed and cry until he couldn’t anymore. He also hoped that Steve wasn’t home yet from work; he was scared that something bad would happen, like they would end up arguing or not speaking to each other.

What Eddie didn’t expect was to come home to a house that smelled a little like heaven. It was warm and he called out, “Steve? That you?” 

“Yup! In the kitchen!”

Eddie toed off his shoes and stripped out of his still damp jacket and hung it up on the rack. He still felt really keyed up from the day he had, so he steeled himself against his own feelings and headed into the kitchen. 

Their table was set. A lasagna was cooling in the center, set on a potholder right next to a spray of daisies. Two beers were set beside their plates, still cold enough that condensation was gathering on the glass. 

Steve himself is dressed in comfortable clothes, bent over the oven and pulling out what looked like cheesy garlic bread. Fuck, if it wasn’t all of Eddie’s favorite things wrapped up in one beautiful little scene. “Hey! I must have timed it just right!”

Eddie felt tears starting to gather in his eyes. “How… how did you know?”

Steve set the garlic bread down on the stove and pulled off his oven mitts before he reached up to cup Eddie’s cheek. “I heard you this morning. And then Mack called me before you left, saying you’d had a pretty shit day. So… I got home a little early and wanted to surprise you with something good.”

Okay, yeah, Eddie was absolutely going to cry now. “For me?”

“Of course, baby. After dinner, I figured we could take a bath together and I could wash your hair? Then we could crawl into bed and watch that new Beetlejuice movie? I grabbed it on the way home.”

“Steve… that…” It sounded incredible. It was perfect. So why was Eddie blubbering like he’d just been told his dog died? 

But Steve, wonderful, beautiful Steve, seemed to just understand. “Because you deserve it. You had a bad day, and I just wanted to make it better. You’d do the same for me, have done it in the past. Let me take care of you, okay?” 

What else could Eddie do but nod?

Dinner was delicious, Eddie ate until he couldn’t anymore, realizing he’d forgotten to eat lunch in the midst of the rest of his terrible day. He listened to Steve talk about what he’d done that day, letting his boyfriend’s words wash over him. 

The bath was just as nice. Even if they were two grown men, they managed to squeeze themselves into their tiny tub. It was ridiculous, but it made Eddie laugh and he felt light for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. Steve had washed his hair, took his time rubbing conditioner through Eddie’s curls, and then it ended up with them wrapping hands around each other’s cock and Eddie panting into Steve’s mouth.

Fuck, but he loved this man so much. 

Loose from the bath and from his orgasm, Eddie crawled into bed with Steve and curled up as the movie started.

“Love you, Eds,” Steve murmured, kissing the top of his head. He grabbed the remote from the bedside table to fast forward through the previews.

Ed smiled into Steve’s collarbone. The day might have started pretty fucking awful, but Steve had turned it right around. Now, it felt like the best day ever.

#les writes things #steddie #steddielovemonth #rating: t

[b-is-in-the-closet]

What I told you I had more Mack headpat gifs

Because… bababooey

#iswm mack #head pats #gif #custom #silly

[littlelioncub43]

Come On, Come On, Darling

Summary: A late night out with friends, and an uncomfortably deep talk has Eddie thinking about you. He just hopes you're thinking about him the same way.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, drinking, Eddie being an absolute angel and a gentleman, reader does Eddie's make up (you're welcome), pet names ( I overuse "princess," sue me), the rest of the ST gang all being happy, season 4 never happened here, Wayne being oddly insightful and a good uncle, more plot than anything, but smut will happen in part 3, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word Count: 4,039

A/N: I started this a while ago, hated it, took a break from it, came back and finished it — bon appetit. Bahaha! No, the break from it was much needed. I think I was tired when I said it was awful, because upon review it wasn't that bad. I love this one, you guys. I'm jealous of them. I'm jealous of the fictional couple that I created. I hope you guys like this one! Part 3 will have ze smut, so you have to be patient and polite as you wait for it hehe. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a singing telegram— really anything. Ok! I love you!

Kisses 💋

—K

Part I. Series Masterlist Part III

The sound of random tinkering and a distant radio at the end of Mack’s Auto Garage welcomed you with a familiar warmth. Cars and trucks littered the parking lot and garage, random parts and pieces that made absolutely no sense to you sprawled out over the work benches. Eddie had a morning shift today, much to his dismay, but when money calls— he answers. Parking next to his decrepit van, you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you meander through the concrete workspace looking for him. You hear him long before you see him.

“Where did I put it? Son of a—“

“Missing something, Munson?” You interrupted Eddie’s nearly frantic search of his locker, his head snapping up in surprise. His normally untamed hair was pulled back into a low bun (with a scrunchie that looks suspiciously like the one you misplaced two weeks ago) with his favorite bandana tied around his brow to keep the sweat off. The dark blue coveralls with his name etched in red thread on his left chest were unzipped at his waist, a plain white t-shirt adorning his chest, oil and dirt smeared into the fabric were he wiped his hands clean on his thighs. 

“Yeah, my freaking lighter. That thing must have finally grown legs and ran off or some shit,” he rambles and resumes to pat down the pockets of his leather jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this in my car,” you slip the silver flip lighter from the back pocket of your black jeans and wiggle it between your thumb and index finger, “figured you’d need it sooner than later.”

“Oh, you’re a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman,” he groans dramatically with relief, happily taking the lighter from you. You chuckle and lean against the hood of the car at his bench, Eddie following suit. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights it swiftly, taking a long drag, his eyes shut as he holds it in at the top, and slowly blowing out a wispy cloud of smoke. 

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea how badly I needed that,” he grumbles before bringing it back to his lips, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Yeah, you, too, Sweets, thanks,” he teases with a coy smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, making him laugh around the cigarette. “We still on for drinks later with Steve and them?”

“7, right?” He hums an affirmative, “yeah, that sounds good,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “Shit, I gotta go, my shift starts soon.”

“Okay,” he nods, crushing out the partially spent cigarette in the ashtray on his bench as you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket. “Wear that cute top, the black one that hangs off your shoulders,” he calls out after you as you walk away.

“Why?” You chuckle and turn to look at him while you walk backwards, the move alone made Eddie think you were the coolest fucking chick that ever graced this floating space rock. 

“It’s pretty,” he shrugged casually as he slung the arms of his coveralls back on, but you noticed the soft dusting of color along his cheeks. 

“Fine, but only if you tuck your shirt into your pants,” you bargain and point at him from your spot at the mouth of the garage. He groans, making you laugh. 

“I’m going to look like a loser!” He whines, failing to hide his smile at your giggling. 

“That’s the point! I’ll see you then, Gomer,” you tease and finally get to your car, if you stayed any longer you’d definitely be late for your shift at the record shop. 

You heard his van pull into your driveway just as you were finishing the last bit of your eye makeup. You always went light with the mascara and eyeliner for the sake of being comfortable, and it made washing your face a lot easier at the end of the night. The sound of Eddie’s keys jingling was followed by his bright voice calling your name. When you came out of your room, you found him sitting on your counter, munching on a bag of chips. 

“Oo, look at you all prettied up,” he coos around a mouthful of Doritos. You feel your face heat up ever so slightly at his words, you did feel pretty. The knit, long sleeve black top that Eddie had requested clung to your shape deliciously, precisely the reason he loved it so much. The neckline was low enough to show off your collarbones and bits of your shoulder, and gave you the perfect opportunity to show off the pendant necklace that Eddie got for your graduation present years ago. Tight ripped black jeans matched Eddie’s own pair down to the black studded belt, except you swapped out your comfortable pair of converses for a chunky black boot. Eddie was positive: you were the coolest chick to ever live. 

“I was going to say the same thing about you, Munson,” you chuckle and take him in, he does a little twirl. He wore his classic black jeans and handcuff belt, a staple in Eddie’s uniform. A black AC/DC t shirt hugged his sturdy torso and was neatly tucked into his jeans, just like you asked. You gotta admit: he did not look like a loser. He never did. 

“Ya think so? I was worried that my jacket didn’t match my purse,” he jokes. 

“No, no, they do, don’t worry,” you soothe and try to hide your smile. Suddenly, you speak before your mind can catch up with what you’re saying. “Do you want some eyeliner?”

“What?” Eddie chuckles, licking the Dorito dust from his fingers. You swallow and decide, fuck it, you already asked.

“Do you want some eyeliner? I think it would… look nice,” you stutter out as smoothly as you can. He thinks it over for a brief second before he nods casually. 

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie manages to sound calm, much to his surprise. His heart may have skipped a few beats at your small compliment. 

The next thing he knows you have him sat at your vanity, facing you as you stand in between his legs. One hand gently cups his jaw while the other wields a stick of your favorite black eyeliner. You try your best not to get lost in the feeling of his stubble scratching at your palm or the warmth of his hands on your outer thighs, and focus on drawing in the darkness around his eyes. Eddie sits as still as he can, the last thing he wants is to lose an eye. He trusts you completely, it’s his fidgeting that he doesn’t trust. 

“Ok, close your eyes for me,” you say softly, the closeness brought your voice to a hushed whisper. Eddie shut his eyes without a second thought, he listened to the steady inhale and exhale as you stood in front of him. Eddie was unfairly gorgeous, his sweeping eyelashes, the placid expression that soothed his face coupled with the calm trust that surrounded you both made your heart flutter and your knees buckle. Steeling your nerves, you carefully applied the makeup along his upper lashes. “Alright, open. Look up, please.”

Eddie stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to flinch as you brought the product under his lashes. He wished so badly to be able to watch you, you were so cute when you concentrated on things. Your eyebrows furrowed, drawn together in concentration, and your face set in an oddly serious expression. With one last smudge of eyeliner, you pulled back with a smile. 

“All done. What d’ya think?” You ask and put your makeup away as he turns to look in the mirror. 

“Not bad, not bad. What do you think?” He quirks an eyebrow. If you were honest, he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and that was without the makeup on. With the dark circles rimming his gorgeous brown eyes, he was deadly. But you couldn’t exactly say that. 

“I think you look super cool,” you say honestly and grab your purse. 

“Metal?” He stood up, following you out of your room.

“Very metal, but if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be very late,” you chuckle and hand him his leather jacket and keys. Eddie nods and slips one his jacket with ease, the full ensemble complete, and, fuck, did he look hot. He locked the front door after you, skipping quickly ahead to open the passenger seat door for you. 

“M’lady,” he bows, grinning like an idiot when you curtsey back and hop in. 

It was going to be a fun night. 

And it was. 

Steve, Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were sat comfortably at the table when you and Eddie arrived. Jokes were told, laughs were shared, and drinks were poured. Lots and lots of drinks. By midnight, the whole table was on the heavier side of tipsy, if not drunk. Steve and Robin were neck deep in a debate on whether or not Michael Myers was human or not, with Jonathan acting as moderator while Nancy fought through the spins. At some point, you ended up in Eddie’s lap, your arm slung around his shoulders with his own circled around your waist while you both listened and weighed in on what you have dubbed “The Great Halloween Dispute of 1987.” 

Eddie had slipped his jacket off after his second beer, revealing his toned arms (all those shifts at the garage were paying off in more ways than one), the short sleeves of his t shirt rolled up ever so slightly. You toyed with a strand of Eddie’s hair like always and sipped on a glass of water, one that Eddie was quick to swipe from your hand. He took a good gulp without much thought and set it on the table. 

“Well, Princess, what do you think? Should we call it a night?” He slurs his words as he rubs the length of your outer thigh absentmindedly. 

“Yeeaah,” you drawl, your head was starting to spin even from the safety of Eddie’s lap. Looking down at him, you were struck again with the overwhelming feeling flooding your heart. Even in the low light of the seedy bar, he looks like the perfect man that God, or whoever is up there, made just for you. You bring one hand to rest on his forearm, your thumb stroking the bat tattoos you love gently. Eddie tightens his grip on you before giving you that million dollar smile, one that you can’t help but return with drunken ease. He pats your leg, signaling for you to stand, and you do, much to your objection (you were quite comfortable in his lap). 

“Alright, gang, as fun as it’s been, the missus and I gotta head out,” Eddie announces as you slip away to pay for your drinks before he can. A chorus of slurred but friendly goodbyes send Eddie on his way to the bar just as you finish forking over the money for both his and your drinks. “Noooo, you don’ pay for drinks,” he scolds as you put your wallet away, his face scrunched in a pout. 

“Yeah? Who said?” You playfully tease as he slides his leather coat over your shoulders, one glance outside and he knew that you’d be chilly on the way to the van. You subtly breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, the same one you got for his birthday 2 years ago.

“Pretty girls don’ pay for drinks, everyone knows that,” he casually answers, he was much bolder with about 4 glasses of liquid courage warming his blood. You laugh, not bothering to hide the bashfulness in your voice and he smiles at the sound, leading you out to the van at the far end of the parking lot. He saw the way you shivered and pulled the oversized jacket around you tighter. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he opens the back doors and quickly starts setting up the blankets he had stored in the back. You must have made a face because Eddie’s soon laughing and shaking his head. “M’not drivin’ you home drunk, Princess. Could get ya hurt, s’too dangerous. Now, com’on.”

Your heart does a summersault at his words, but that’s just who he was. Caring, sweet, understanding, reliable, trustworthy. That’s Eddie Munson. He sees the fondness in your smile again, his stomach erupting in butterflies. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit, this is where he would tell you how gorgeous you are and kiss you, if you’d let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hops out of the van and holds out his hand to help you inside. 

The old mattress he keeps tucked away in the back is draped in blankets, folded as neatly as a drunk Eddie could get them. You sit at the end of the makeshift bed, your legs hanging out the doors to take off your boots. Without a word, Eddie starts untying your laces, carefully undoing the knots, slipping the shoes off your feet and setting them neatly next to the mattress. 

“Thank you,” you meekly reply, the sweet gesture having stolen your voice.

“You’re welcome, Sweets,” he pats your leg, “scoot over.”

He hops in, shutting the doors behind him before double checking that all the doors are locked. You hide a yawn behind your hand as he settles down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes unceremoniously. You slip off your belt and other jewelry, opting to stay in your jeans for the night. Eddie does the same, slinging his belt into the pile with his shoes before crawling under the questionably clean blanket. He sighs and settles in with a groan, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he’s watching you tuck your earrings into the pocket of his leather jacket. You turn around to find Eddie making grabby hands at you, smiling, you crawl in next to him, letting him pull you into his chest and tuck the blanket around you both snugly. The chill of the van made cuddling a necessity, even under the blanket you could feel the stagnant bite of cold of the coming winter. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed into the comfortable silence, the world around you only slightly spinning now as sleep began to descend on you. Eddie stares up at the metal roof, his eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the moments tick by. 

“I like when you tuck your shirts in,” you sleepily confess, your voice was hushed as you whispered your little secret to your best friend. He can’t help but chuckle tiredly at your words, the sound more akin to a deep rumble as opposed to his normally bright laughter. 

“Yeah?” Is all he can think to say, his face burning even in the chilly van. 

“Yeah,” you shyly confirm, tracing the bats on his forearm once more, the action sends Eddie into a tizzy.

“Y’like when I look like a dweeb?” He jokes with a yawn, sleep fast approaching. 

“You never look like a dweeb,” you mumble just before you drift off, your fingers slowing to a stop on his skin, If he wasn’t tired, he would have teased you to hell and back about it, but all he can do it chuckle lowly in his chest and hold you a little tighter. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I like when we sleep like this,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, letting one hand stroke your arm tenderly, the action only pushing you quicker towards sleep. He hears you hum in acknowledgement and agreement. 

“Me too, Eds.”  

There’s a few moments of silence before Eddie realizes you’re asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Eddie whispers with a smile and kisses the crown of your head, the sound of your even breaths fill the van and lull him into his own peaceful slumber. 

Eddie wakes up to the sound of your soft snores and the growl of a stray truck chugging down the street. Your back is pressed to his front as you both lay on your sides, his arm under your head like a pillow and out stretched, his other arm was strung across your waist. The warmth of your body pressed against his had fought off the cold of the night exceptionally well, it drew him in for more, so he buried his face into the crook of your neck. The smell of your perfume mixing with the scent of his own cologne had Eddie groaning softly, this was the life. Nothing could bring him down, not even the soft thudding in his head or the dryness of his mouth. 

You stirred next to him, your eyes still shut as you reached out for Eddie’s hand on instinct. When your smaller hand found his, you immediately laced your fingers together. Eddie looked at where your hands were joined and gave a small incredulous scoff and smile, his arm around your midsection squeezed you into him hard enough to force the air out of you. 

“Why are you so damn cute? Huh? Who said you could be this fucking adorable?” He rambled on in a groggy whisper, his morning voice was just as glorious as you remember it being. You giggle as consciousness fills you. 

“It’s a curse, really. Doctors have been studying me for years, it’s a medical mystery,” you joke and carefully rub your eyes with your free hand. You were surprised to find that you felt well rested for having slept in the back of your best friend’s van after a night of drinking with no pillow, in a pair of tight jeans, and no fan. You peek over your shoulder to find Eddie’s puppy eyes already staring back at you. The smudges of eyeliner looked even better in the morning sunshine. You could only imagine how you look right now. “Wanna get breakfast?”

“God, yes,” he mumbles with a smile. He was starving, plus he wanted to pay you back for covering his drinks last night. Reluctantly, he peels his hand from yours to reach for his shoes and keys. You hum and stretch out a little, cracking your back before getting your shoes back on as well. You’re both quick to fold the blankets and get into your seats, the pits in your stomach rumbled and demanded to be satisfied. The drive to the nearest diner was thankfully short. 

Before long, you and Eddie find yourselves tucked into a booth with plates of hot food and even hotter coffee in front of you. The looks you receive from the other patrons did nothing but amuse you both. And what a sight you both were: strolling in at 9am reeking of the drink that Nancy accidentally spilled, last night’s makeup smeared across your eyes, bed hair, both dressed to the nines in black. Compared to the lovely elderly couple on their weekly Sunday morning date, you both looked like bats out of Hell. When you offered the old woman a polite smile, she was quick to return it, her husband was busy staring Eddie down, clearly not a fan of his tattoos or makeup. Soon, the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, and you both meandered your way back to the van. 

“Alright, Sweetheart, back home, it is?” He asks as he backs out of the parking lot, you scroll through the radio stations, hoping to find something good on.

“Yes, please, I need to shower,” you groan, the longer you stayed in your makeup the more grimy you felt. A hot shower would solve all your problems. 

“Oo, no chance you’ll let me join, would you?” Eddie half jokes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes with a smile and shake your head. “Damn, next time, then.”

Quicker than he’d like, he parks in front of your trailer. You gather your things, double checking that you have everything before hopping out of the passenger side. With a quick goodbye, you’re bounding indoors, making a beeline for the shower. Eddie watches until you’re inside then makes his own way home. He’s surprised to find Wayne’s car parked in its spot in the yard. 

“You just getting in?” Wayne asks as soon as the door opens, Wayne sat at the kitchen table, eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge before heading to bed. Eddie sets his keys aside on the table and nods. “Out with that girl, again?” Eddie gives him a look as he sought out a glass of water, Wayne knew your name but he just liked giving Eddie a hard time, especially when he stays out all night. 

“Yeah, we had some drinks with some friends, it ran a little later than planned.”

“Did you and her…” Wayne trails off, tilting his head to finish his sentence. 

“Oh God,” Eddie sighs and hangs his head. Wayne would ask from time to time, and it never ceased to be awkward as balls. 

“I’m just askin’. If you are, I’d rather you be safe about i—“ he defends calmly. 

“I know how to be safe about—“ Eddie cuts himself off with another sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know how to be safe, but no. We did not… do things.”

“Ok,” Wayne nods, throwing his hands up in surrender to show that he dropped it. Eddie relaxes and finishes his water, happy to escape the awkward conversation. Or so he thought. “It’s obvious you like her, so I thought it would have happened by now.” 

Eddie sputters a few words, each sentence of denial dying on his tongue. Wayne gives him a look and Eddie just knows that denying it isn’t any good. He flops into the chair on the other side of the table, looking up to his uncle through his lashes. 

“How obvious is it?” Eddie asks softly. In that moment, Wayne sees the years fall away from Eddie and what’s left behind is what Wayne saw all those years ago: his kid nephew, lost and needing guidance. He smiles warmly, a rare sight, and scratches his head. 

“Well, it’s not super obvious,” Wayne grumbles gently, resting his forearms on the table, “but I’m sure some of your friends notice it too.”

Eddie curses under his breath, his face hot with embarrassment. If other people could see how bad he has it for you, then that means you might see it too. 

“Do… Do you think she knows?” He asks shyly, fiddling with the rings on his fingers for comfort. Wayne leans back in his chair, giving a small shrug. 

“She might,” that answer weighs heavily on Eddie but Wayne is quick to try fix it, “but, would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know,” Eddie rambles, bouncing his leg as he does the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if you knew. 

“Personally, kid, I don’t think it would be. Knowin’ that you love her, how could that be bad?” His words knock around in Eddie’s head for a few moments before he speaks in a small voice. 

“It could ruin everything,” Wayne couldn’t help but laugh at those words. 

“Kid, lovin’ someone doesn’t ruin a damn thing,” he smiles and crosses his arms. “If it’s right, then it’s right. If not, then it’s not. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

Eddie took in his words again, chewing his lip nervously. He hated when Wayne was like this, all insightful and wise. It was unnerving, but at the same time, he always knew exactly what Eddie needed to hear. 

“You do what you think is best, Eddie. I’m gonna go to bed now, I’ll see ya tonight,” he stands and pats Eddie’s back as he makes his way towards the pull out sofa. Eddie mumbles his goodnights and makes his way to his own room, Wayne’s alarmingly wise words knocking around his head as he gets ready for a shower. 

Would it be so bad if you knew? He was going to find out. 

Part I. Part III

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