#i think this is maybe the first thing i noticed when watching the new trailer

[astragatwo]

Is that Dongrang in Yi Sang's newest ID, or am I imagining things

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hello, hello! Congrats to the milestone! For the festivity may I wish for a fic with 1/A; 2/Canon- adjasond; 3/Hurt/Comfort and 4 is up to you. If it fits your jam, would be an outsider pov be possible? 👀

Thank you so much for the ask, I definitely gave myself some feels writing this one! I've never done a Wayne POV before, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. 🥲

Your first warden

Words: 999

Rated: T

Tags: POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Child neglect; Child abuse; Alcohol abuse; Drowning; Referenced parental death; Eddie had a shitty childhood; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Hurt Eddie Munson; Recovery; Caretaker Steve Harrington; Hurt/comfort

The first time Eddie almost died, he was two years old. 

Al had insisted on bringing him along for that fishing trip. A proper men's day out, he'd said. Of course Al’s idea of a proper men's day out was hitting the booze the second they arrived. By the time Wayne heard him snore, little Ed had already wandered off. 

He found him floating face down between the reeds a few yards away. The water lillies and the pretty lights rippling on the surface must've drawn him in. Wayne thinks he lost five years of his life in the seconds between pulling him out and the kid's first coughs filling the air.

“‘s okay, kiddo,” Wayne murmured as he rocked the both of them, tears and lake water drenching his flannel. “‘s okay. I gotcha.”

The ruckus drew Al, of course. He took one look at them and yanked Eddie away by the arm, slapping him hard across the face. 

“Quit howling, it's your own damn fault for going in the water. And you,” his eyes found Wayne's and his face twisted into something ugly. “Who d'ya think you are, his fucking guard dog? Keep your nose outta things that don't concern ya.” 

And maybe it was because Wayne never liked being told what to do, least of all by his drunk, deadbeat brother - but he promised himself something on that day. 

For as long as Eddie would need him, he'd watch over him. 

He'd often think back on that promise over the years. Teaching Eddie to ride a bike. Letting him sob into his shoulder at his mom's funeral, daring Al to say something about being a man one glare at a time. Taking him in when he showed up on his doorstep, bruised and beaten, hair shorn so short his scalp was bleeding in places. 

Wayne never regretted his decision, and he never broke that promise. 

Until the day Eddie almost died the second time. 

*

The beemer parked by the new trailer is a sight he should be used to by now. Still, Wayne can't help but grumble as he makes his way up the porch steps. 

Don't get him wrong, he'll be forever grateful to the Harrington boy for carrying Eddie out of literal hell, but he isn't sure if this new friendship between the two will ever be anything but bizarre to him. 

Maybe it's because the Harringtons don't mingle with the likes of them, or maybe it's because the lad is the exact type of kid Eddie hates with a passion, usually. 

Maybe it's because Wayne has noticed the way Eddie looks at the boy. He's always had a way of getting in too deep, Eddie has. Drawn to pretty flowers and rippling lights that'll slip through his fingers when grasps at them, luring him in until it's too late. 

The first thing he hears when he steps inside is a thud, followed by a wince. He's just taken the first step when Harrington barrels out of the kitchen and into Eddie’s room, completely unaware of Wayne standing in the door. 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” comes Eddie’s reply, and Wayne knows that tone. The just-got-caught-doing-forbidden-shit one. “Just trying to put up this fucking thing.” 

Toeing off his boots, Wayne hovers closer to the half-open door. A look inside reveals Eddie, sitting on the bed with a sheepish grin on his face and that giant banner he made for his band beside him. Harrington, back turned to the door, huffs and picks up the hammer lying on the ground. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds, climbing onto the bed and gesturing for Eddie to hand him the banner. A few swift movements and knocks of the hammer later, it’s hanging. “You could’ve opened a wound. Again. What do I need to do to make you stay in bed, tie you up?” 

Eddie grins toothily. “Okay, one: I am in bed, technically. And two: oooh, kinky.” 

Wayne groans soundlessly. Harrington rakes a hand down his face, plopping down cross-legged on the mattress. 

“Eddie.” 

Their knees bump together. Now that he has turned and he can see him in half-profile, Wayne recognizes the concern on Harrington’s face. Eddie’s grin shifts into something softer. 

“I know,” he says, watching his hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pajama pants. “It’s just … It’s annoying, not being able to do anything on my own. Being such a goddamn burden all the time. To Wayne, to the kids. To you.” 

“Hey.” Harrington’s hand settles on top of Eddie’s. “You're not a burden. We're all glad you're here. I'm glad. You know that, right? 

Eddie flips his hand, tangling their fingers together, and Harrington doesn't pull away. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “I know.” 

Harrington smiles, reaching up to cup Eddie’s face with his free hand. 

“You just wait,” he winks. “You'll be back to walking on tables in no time. And in the meantime …” 

Eddie melts into the touch, lashes brushing the other boy's palm as his eyes flutter shut. 

“In the meantime, you got me.” 

“I gotcha,” Harrington confirms, and leans in. 

Wayne is just about to sneak away when the kettle whistles in the kitchen. The boys turn … and then they all just sort of freeze.

“Hiya, boys,” Wayne rumbles when they're still silently gaping at him a few seconds later. 

“Mr. Munson,” Harrington croaks. “I mean … sir. I mean … hi?” 

“Wayne?” Eddie blurts. “H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Wayne considers that question while both boys continue to stare at him with matching scarlet blushes coloring their cheeks. Their hands are still lying entwined on the mattress between them. 

“Long enough, I reckon,” is what he finally says. “I'll take care of the kettle, Steve. You lads stay put.” 

And with that, he closes the door on their confused faces and makes his way into the kitchen. It's been a long day, and he's looking forward to resting his feet. 

More celebration ficlets

[writer-in-theory]

A Cat Named Eddie — part two

part one part two part three

--

Eddie half-expected it to blow over.

It was cruel, sure, but it wasn't like worse hadn't been said before. He hadn't forgotten the words they used to throw at each other in school, or even the slight off-center teasing the entire group participated in.

Steve had crossed a line first, he was just readjusting the center. That was all.

Except it hadn't blown over, and now things were weird. Eddie hadn't realized how often he saw Steve until that presence disappeared entirely. When Steve dropped off the kids for D&D, he stayed firmly in the car, or sometimes even sent Nancy or Jonathan to do it instead. There weren't anymore night when Steve would come over with a pack of beer and and some cigarettes, whispering for him to not tell Henderson he was smoking again like it was some tightly held secret. Steve still came to movie nights in the Wheeler basement—if only because the others would notice if he wasn't there—but instead of sitting next to each other whispering about the cool new effects or how they would've better handled a horror situation, they sat on opposite sides of the basement.

It sucked, frankly.

"What the hell did you do to Steve?" Dustin came charging at the van the second he pulled back up to the trailer. How long had the kid been waiting there for him?

Eddie groaned, looking over at Dustin as dramatically as he could manage. "Isn't he supposed to be working on your language?"

"Eddie!"

"I didn't do anything to Harrington," Eddie told him, though the expression on Dustin's face showed just how unconvinced he was. "He started it."

He winced at the way it sounded, already anticipating the unimpressed look Dustin was giving him. "Really, Eddie? He started it? What are you, four?"

"Hey! This is adult stuff, you'll understand when you're older."

"Doesn't sound like it. Sounds more like you're in e—"

"Henderson, nothing happened between Steve and I. I dunno what he said to make you think that but we'll be fine."

"He's moping, Eddie," Dustin practically whined. "It hasn't been this bad since Nancy. Can't you just apologize for whatever he thinks you did so you can kiss and make up?"

"Who says I did anything?"

"I think you both did something stupid," Dustin corrected, crossing his arms over his chest. It was alarming how quickly he was beginning to mimic Steve's mannerisms. "Just fix it."

And sure, maybe the kid had a point. He was one of the smartest people Eddie had ever met, so of course he did. That didn't make it any easier to consider how to do such a thing. It was easy to say 'fix it', but a whole lot harder to figure out what to fix in the first place.

So it was another week until anything else happened. Another week of no Steve, another week of not being able to sleep and realizing he'd been relying on phone calls to the other man to lull him back to sleep when he had a nightmare. Even when it was Steve who called, it always seemed like Eddie could get back to sleep much better than before.

Three weeks after the incident, Eddie stepped foot back inside Family Video.

"Get out," Robin immediately spoke from the center counter, not looking up from the tapes she was organizing to place back on the shelves.

"Missed you too, Buckley," Eddie tried to tease, but the look Robin gave him was harsh, cold in a way he wasn't sure the band nerd had ever been capable of before. "Okay, I get it, I hurt Harrington's feelings."

Robin glanced over at a door on the back wall, maybe the break room, before she looked back at him. "You didn't just hurt his feelings, asshole."

"He was—" Eddie started, voice raising a higher pitch before he told himself to relax. Instead, he leaned over the counter to close their proximity. "What if Harrington hasn't really changed as much as you think he has?"

Robin blinked, wordlessly watching him for a few seconds. Then she scoffed, rolled her eyes, then refocused on the tapes scattered around her. "I think you're the one who's stuck in high school, Eddie."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You're so focused on him being a jock that you're totally missing the obvious. I mean come on, I thought Harrington was the biggest dingus I'd ever be friends with but you might've beaten him."

"I hate to ask this..." Eddie started, lifting his eyes to look to the ceiling as though the answer might be plastered there. "But what's the obvious?"

Robin looked up at him, really looked at him, then shook her head. "I cannot wait until you two figure this one out."

--

Eddie had no idea what the fuck Robin meant by that, and it certainly didn't get any clearer as the days passed.

It was impossible not to linger on it, though. He laid in bed unable to sleep, just thinking about what the hell she was trying to tell him. He ended up trying to replay the last day he'd spoken to Steve, tried to figure out where it all went so wrong, how all of this ended up pinned on him when Steve was the one who—

He walked into Family Video that day. Robin and Steve were talking. He eavesdropped. Okay, not the best start.

Steve said Eddie had sat on his lap. And bit him. And slept with him.

No, he said they slept in the same bed.

It still didn't make sense. All of it still sounded like the setup to a bad joke, like the second Eddie acknowledged it Steve would jump out with the 'I gotcha'. None of it made sense, because of there was no 'gotcha' then what was the point of saying all of that to Robin? To the kids? Why make everyone think they were closer than they were? Why bring up all of these things right as Eddie figured out he kind of liked the idea of laying in bed with Steve Harrington?

Eddie wanted to scream.

Instead, he got out of bed, tossed on a jacket, and started walking. It was just beginning to get colder, enough that he needed to curl his shoulders inward the more he walked. There was no destination in mind, though he ended up somewhere anyway.

He ended up by the Harrington house, of course.

It would've been easier to turn around and walk away, pretend he had never showed up there. But Eddie was tired of running, and maybe this would at least prove something to the both of them (what that was, he still wasn't sure). At the very least, maybe the strange ache in his chest that hadn't gone away since he heard Steve's words weeks ago would ease enough that he could breathe freely again. So he knocked.

Steve looked like he wanted to close the door in Eddie's face. Maybe they both deserved it, to not be friends and not figure out this whole situation and to just sit in this hurt forever until all of their friends got tired of their bullshit. Except Eddie was tired of deserved too, having heard plenty of what he 'deserved' after Chrissy was killed.

"We need to talk," Eddie spoke up, and Steve sighed and nodded, though didn't move from the doorway.

"It's fine, man, there's nothing to talk about," Steve told him. "We're good, I'm fine."

"Well as long as Harrington is fine," Eddie returned quickly, wincing immediately after. "I'm not. Nothing about this is fine."

Steve sighed and leaned his hip against the doorframe. And shit, why did he get to look so annoyed that this conversation was happening? Eddie deserved an apology too, didn't he? Didn't he?

"Yeah, okay this was a mistake," Eddie hissed, taking a step backward and shaking his head.

"What now?" Steve snapped, nothing but pure annoyance and frustration in his voice. It reminded him of all the times people told him to shut up, to get over it. Not everyone is gonna like you, not everyone wants to be your friend. But damn did he want to be more with Steve.

"You don't even get it, do you?" Eddie returned, feeling that same uncontrollable anger bubble up in him. How dare Steve be annoyed now, when he'd come to try to figure things out? "You think you can make fun of whatever freak dares to like you? Well guess what, Harrington, it's not fucking funny, and when you fuck up most people want an apology."

"What are you talking about?" Steve threw his hands in the air, one continuing up to tug and pull at his hair. "You've been acting so c—"

"Crazy? That's it, right? I'm crazy Eddie Munson, so desperate for you I'll just bite you or something?"

"What are you—"

"I heard you," Eddie confessed. "At Family Video, I heard you making fun of me. Telling Robin all about how the gay guy was sitting in your lap and sleeping in your bed. That's not cool you know, lies like that get people hurt."

"I—" Steve's hazel eyes widened in realization. He shook his head, disbelieving as he watched Eddie. And fuck, did that look on Steve's face irritate the hell out of him. "You're kidding me."

"Here's a tip, don't talk gossip in public, big boy."

"So you heard me talking, you were confused, and instead of just asking like a normal person, you assumed I was a terrible human being? I have that right?" Well it sounded bad when Steve put it that way.

Eddie shrugged, to which Steve scoffed, shoulders deflating.

"Right, it's not that far off to assume I'd do that, huh?" Steve responded. He looked sad, those hazel eyes looking as doe-like as ever. The ache in Eddie's chest went away, but it was replaced by something sharper, the distinct feeling that something had gone horribly wrong here. "Look, I...I don't know why I named him that. I just...he looked a little rough at first, and then when I gave him a safe place to land he had this huge personality. He's goofy, and full of energy, and so loving I just..." Steve shrugged, bending down to pick up something from behind the door.

It was a fucking cat. The little guy was all black and a little too thin, though looked to be on the up and up. He was curled up comfortably in Steve's arms, where even now one large hand idly scratched behind one ear.

"You have a cat. You got a cat and you named it Eddie," Eddie said dully, monotone with the shock of the whole thing. Dread filled his stomach, pitting something dark and heavy there. "You named a cat after me."

"My mistake," Steve answered, grabbing onto the edge of the door with his free hand. "Forgive me, I'm just a dumb jock, you know."

"Wait, Steve—" Eddie rushed to grab onto the door but it had already closed tightly, leaving him outside with no way to fix the situation.

He'd fucked up, big time, but at least now he knew what Robin meant. He knew, and now he wouldn't stop until he fixed things. He would, because Steve named a cat after him.

--

Just one more part. It was really meant to be just this part but it was getting a little long, my apologies! And don't worry, there'll be fluff and some eddie the cat joy in there too.

Tagging whoever asked on the last reply, sorry if I missed anyone or tagged someone accidentally! It's totally not necessary, but a small reminder that I really appreciate feedback or if you enjoyed it, reblogs💜

@oxidantdreamboat @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @estrellami-1 @sjullay @doubleb11 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @nelotegreitic @liketheocean @background-noise-headache @wowimwhatibingewatch @obsessive-anddepressive @colorful565 @krazyperson @nonsense-of-dimitri @whimsicalwitchm @zerokrox-blog @electrick-marionnett @the-redthread @juststeddiebrainrot @dollalicia @vi-an-te @lioniheart @unclewaynemunson @stevesbipanic @ajamlessbaby @qomrades @ivydragon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @apricottree @gleek4twd @messrs-weasley @makewavesandwar @renaissan-vvitch @artiststarme @suikatto @proudbaconatornyoom @ilikechocolatemilkh @0o-queendean-o0 @dangdirtydemons @v3lnys @mybradforddream

[pizzaqueen]

Just over 450 words of something. Established relationship. T. Just more fluff I guess! Been feeling kind of shaky about (my) writing so I’m just gently dipping my toe back in

Eddie’s hanging out with Jeff and Gareth and Steve at his place; Steve is checking the oil on his car and Eddie’s watching him from where he’s sitting on a fold out chair, Jeff and Gareth either side of him. There’s a cooler of beer at their feet and a warm breeze in the air.

The thing between him and Steve is still new, no longer tentative, but something Eddie had wanted—maybe needed—to keep close for a while.

But then Jeff walked in on him and Steve in a position of a comprising nature. Jeff looked like he’d just turn right around, forget he saw anything, but Gareth came stumbling in after him and, well…

They know now. That’s the point.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and Eddie hasn’t said much about it, and neither have they, but he guesses they don’t have a problem. They wouldn’t be here if they did. Eddie sighs, watching Steve’s arms flex, chest tight with warmth when he notices the smudge of grease on Steve’s cheek. He’s just so gone on Steve already. It’s so much.

And he’s watching Steve and his heart is so full and he says, “I’m gonna marry that man, one day,” without thinking.

It’s Gareth who speaks first, blurting out, “But you can’t,” over Priest playing from the boombox on the trailer step.

Jeff groans and hits Gareth in the arm.

“Ow. What?”

A look passes between them, Jeff’s brow furrowed, eyes wide as he tries to communicate silently. Eddie’s not sure Gareth gets it but he says, “Sorry?” anyway.

And it’s not like Eddie needed the reminder or it doesn’t hurt, just a little, even if he’s never been a big believer of marriage. Hell, he’s never been a believer at all. But he tips his head back and says, “Not gonna let that stop me,” heart beating as Steve finishes up, slamming the hood of the car, and comes to stand in front of him.

He kicks Eddie’s foot. “Where’s my chair?”

Eddie pats his thighs.

Steve smiles, a little flushed, but he looks between Jeff and Gareth and shakes his head.

Eddie rolls his eyes and stands, waving Steve into his chair, and getting another for himself.

And they drink beer as the sun sets, summer warmth lingering, Priest still blaring, the four of them getting talking and laughing and Eddie’s so fucking happy.

And Eddie looks at Steve thinks to himself again: I’m going to marry this man.

(And when they can get married, they do. Steve is a little surprised Eddie wants to, but Eddie’s always known it was going to happen. He just forgot to tell Steve. But it happens. Just like he knew it would.)

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

hello! I’m a big fan of your jackass fanfics and I have a request. What if Knoxville and reader just had a baby (reader is in the jackass crew) and they bring the baby on set and surprise the boys??? Sorry if this is too long 😭😭 anyways love ya bye 😘🫶🏽

Baby on Board

Y/N and Johnny bring their son on set one day, not realizing what chaos may erupt!

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

820 Words

Warnings: None! :)

An: Thank you for the request!! Your request was not too long at all and I really enjoy long requests in general! ;) Anyways, as a warning I have been around very few babies in my life besides in passing, much less responsible for one, so I hope this is all accurate to real baby behavior! As a side note I’d like to thank you all for getting me to 100 followers! This probably deserves it’s own post but I just want to say that I’m so happy so many people enjoy what I write! I would love to do some sort of special or unique fic to come rate, so please send me any and all requests! :)

“So…that’s your baby?” Steve peered curiously at the little human in Johnny’s arms. He chuckled a little, “Well, it’s more Y/ baby. She did all the work- I just made a deposit at the bank.” It was a slow day on set, so you and your husband decided to bring in your new baby to meet the guys. You didn’t really know what to expect, but you were pleasantly surprised as your son reached out a little hand to Steve and his eyes went wide. It was no mystery that he hated babies in general, on account of their propensity for being doorstops that shit and cried, but for some reason this was different. Johnny noticed his reaction and cracked a smile, “If you want, you could hold’em.”

He nodded but didn’t really seem to know what to do after Johnny handed him over, just sort of holding your baby like this precious, fragile thing in his arms. It was sweet, in a way. While he was busy marveling, a production assistant came up and tapped Johnny on the shoulder, whispering something in his ear before trying to hurriedly usher him and you away to something or other that needed to be attended to on set. Johnny quickly turned to Steve as he walked away, “Hey, we’ll be back in five! Think y’could watch him?” There really wasn’t any way he could say no. “Uh, sure, I guess…?” Of course, that was the exact moment your son pooed all over him.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong about babies being doorstops that shat. Though he still looked calm, Steve’s eyes had a trace of panic behind them as he nervously looked around for someone on set to hand your son off to while he went to the bathroom to clean the stuff dripping off of his arm. The first person he found was maybe the only worse person to give a baby to- Ryan. He handed off that drooling little bundle of joy to him in the blink of an eye as he rushed away, “Hey, dude- just hold onto this for a sec.”

He knew even less what to do with the thing, holding the baby at an arm’s length while he kicked his little legs and giggled. Ryan eyed it with suspicion, unsure of what to do next. Steve was long gone, and he didn’t know when he’d be back, so in a moment of quick thinking, he did the only rational thing- handing it off to someone else. Effectively, this baby was being passed around like a fat little babbling football.

Johnny squinted, eyeing him up and down with suspicion at the absence of your son, “Steve, where’s the kid?” He dried the water that dripped off of his recently washed hands on his camo shorts. He sighed and said like there was nothing wrong with it, “I gave him to Ry ‘cause he shat all over me.” Of all people to trust with your baby, you just had to pick Steve-O. You rubbed the space between your eyebrows in frustration, “It’s a baby. It’s gonna shit!”

And so the wild goose chase began. The two of you eventually found the man you were looking for leaning against the side of one of the makeup trailers, beer in hand. “Ryan! Where the hell’s my kid?” Johnny was getting exasperated at this point, as were you. Ryan shrugged nonchalantly, “Gave it to some production assistant lady- Y’know, the one with the hair.” You fell slack jawed and started to wonder if any of these men had been around a child before, much less responsible for one. He sipped his beer “What? It had ‘poopies’. I don’t do ‘poopies’.” Blinking in disbelief, you furrowed your brow, “Okay- okay. Do you have any idea where the woman is?” “Yeah! She’s here all the time- see her every day.” Really narrows it down. Frustrated, you turned to Johnny, “I can’t believe we trusted him with your idiot friends!- no offense, Ryan.” Ever unconcerned, he shrugged, “Hey, none taken.”

After a few panic-inducing minutes of rushing about on set and stumbling into dressing rooms people may or may not have been in (sorry, Bam), you eventually tracked down the aforementioned production assistant. It was Johnny actually who found her, tucked away in some quiet room on set with your son (who had a miraculously clean diaper)- and someone else. In all your time as a mother, you never saw a baby more captivated with anyone than he was with Chris, pawing at his long hair with tiny hands and giggling while he made silly noises to entertain him. “Pbbtt! Goo goo goo! A- pbbtt!”

Johnny cracked a smile and waved you over to look at the sight. God, it was heartwarming. Relieved, you softly awed and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, “Well, I do think we’ve found our new babysitter.”

[byslantedlight]

Hello OFMD Tumblr thingie, and all the amazing people who are out there, and especially the ones who've been making all the posts that have made me so happy over the last few months. 💖💖💖 First and most importantly, thank you, thank you, thank you, to anyone who sees this!

This is my first post to Tumblr (probably pretty obvious from my huge lack of Tumblr sophistication! And the length of this post...) If you don't count reblogging things that I wanted to be able to find again. I've braved up to comment thank you to people a couple of times, but that's been it so far. I must admit it all looks a bit scary from this side of the glass, even though I can also see how friendly people mostly are.

But OFMD fandom is big! And you've been here a long time! I loved Series 1 when I watched it, and knew I wanted to watch out for Series 2, but it wasn't until I re-watched it when the Series 2 trailer came out on BBC iPlayer that I fell veeeery in love with it! And by then you were already here, and there was a language and debates about things I'd barely even noticed, and it's mostly me staring with big eyes thinking wow, and sometimes huh? and... well, you know. Plus there's trying to work out Tumblr, which I definitely haven't actually managed to do yet, and possibly never will, so... I decided to just jump in and post summat. Even just rambling, which is a bit of a specialty of mine... I mean - what's the worst that can happen, right? 😬

So... how come now? Well, I can't make art or gorgeous screenshots or gifs. I do write, but I'm still hanging out to get the right voices in my keyboard... I know them when I hear them, but you've gotta get the right rhythm going, and I'm not quite there yet, I don't think. Although really, I should probably just sit down and try (and stop waiting for work to shut up and give me time - I should be a pirate and take it!)

Anyway (told you about the rambling...) what I'm mostly doing apart from rewatching the eps on a constant loop is reading the fic. I'm picking it according to kudos on AO3, and according to recs that I see on Tumblr, and it's occured to me that alot of the stories I'm loving must have been recced looong ago, and that newbies like me totally missed them, and so maybe I could do my own recs, even if they are of older stories, and someone might find them useful. You know, if I work out how anyone else might ever see my posts. 😁 And if people aren't put off by my probably age-revealing use of emojis. (But I am entirely age-appropriate for Ed and Stede, and if I had to look up what zaddy meant too, well, that just means I matched Rhys Darby's expression in the bts, right? 🤨)

So it's not much, but I'd like to contribute even just a tiny bit to OFMD fandom in return for everything it gives me, so... yeah. That's my plan. I'll start in a bit, but this post is probably already too long since it's just rambling. And kind of dull. I should probably have said tl:dr at the top, shouldn't I, but then maybe anyone who actually saw this wouldn't, so... See, I kind of live in hope. 😊

Okay. Tags next, right? ... ack ... why won't it let me create new tags instead of just using ones from the drop down...? Well, those will have to do for now... maybe someone who sees this will have mercy and tell me how? I'll just be over here being a slight failure at Tumblr... And if you've made it this far (how long is an acceptable post over here?! Not this long, I don't think...) - thank you hugely for just that, and may your dreams be OFMD and joyous!

[zweiginator]

https://www.tumblr.com/zweiginator/755808237660553216/obsessed-with-actorpatrick-omg-i-need-to-know

So you start being more cold towards Patrick and you decide you’re not letting him in anymore. You want to focus on yourself, this movie, and your career. You’re spending more time away from the set as possible and not many people notice except one person in particular. Nobody notices who down your energy has been besides this person. He’s a nobody really🤷‍♀️ no one on set really knows much about him. They think he’s good for one thing - coffee running. Art Donaldson, the boy who asks you what you want in the morning or late night. Letting the extras and side actors know it’s lunch time when they’re in their trailers which he’s never had a problem with before… until he has to start getting you out of your trailer. He’s nothing like Patrick at all in fact he’s more of a lover boy… maybe that’s someone you need….

(Patrick confuses himself when he sees you giggling with the nobody coffee runner before a scene take and starts to feel a certain way..)

yes and im imagining you and art are around the same age, but patrick is about 10 years older.

you've become a lot colder towards patrick. he asks you to dinner to talk about the movie, the script, life--but you see right through it. you know he craves more since the incident, as you dramatically call it in your mind. but you just can't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'll always hear yes, no matter what. has a woman ever told patrick zweig no? it seems unlikely, with how he's acting towards you. he's not being rude or entitled per se, he's just frustrated. it's clear he really thought he had you wrapped around his finger, that you had fallen for his siren song. and you had, originally. but you have been working avidly to reverse the effects he has on you.

instead of pulling your hair down and blotting berry lipstick on your lips during set breaks, you read in the sun. you don't frequent patrick's trailer anymore, and you distract yourself with new friends and new hobbies and it's healthier for you. you feel better.

and of course, you still feel those pangs of yearning when he's nearby and you can smell the musk of tobacco and his thousand dollar cologne, but you bite the inside of your cheek and allow it to pass. as much as it can, at least.

you've been striking up conversations with the director's personal assistant. he mostly gets lunch catered and takes coffee orders. does little tasks around set that nobody else wants to be bothered to do. but art is always happy to do them. he knows how you prefer your cold brew, now that it's hotter outside. and, seeing how down you seem today, art hands you a pastry. it's filled with raspberry and cream cheese and you wonder how he knows you've been eyeing it at the cafe down the street for weeks.

you split it with him. and you talk for hours and hours while the director and producers perfect the set and wait for the wind to stop howling from the brewing storm.

and maybe, stuck in your lust for patrick zweig, you didn't realize how many handsome, doting men are right in front of you.

art is your age, and the blond curls that frame his face are golden with roots of a deeper brown. his eyes are two different colors, and the skin around them crinkles when he smiles at you, when he makes you laugh. you look at his lips; they are plump and smoother than patrick's.

you like how art is more anxious around you. it reveals to you that he's a normal boy. one who has faced rejection, who trembles at the thought of a first kiss. you like that about him.

patrick watches you and art share the pastry, taking turns sipping from the same coffee cup. he watches how art looks down at his shoes when you thank him for making you feel better. and patrick feels a strange jealousy when you slip a post it note in his hand, your phone number scrawled in blue ink.

[eddiexmunsonlover-archive]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 8)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: Car troubles lead to more time spent with Eddie, others take notice and jump to conclusions of their own. Eddie sees you in a way he never has before, and it's not going to leave his mind anytime soon. WC: 4.7k Warnings: MDNI, as always. All the yearning, mutual pining, and sexual tension in this one. If waiting for the slow burn to be over is torturous for you, me too, and we won't have too much longer to wait. Taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot

Tuesday, November 5th, 1985

Your day starts off like any other school morning. Groaning as you roll from your bed, rubbing sleep from your eyes as your feet scuff along the carpet towards your bathroom to start your daily routine. You scoop some food into Henny’s bowl while he impatiently meows in anticipation, clearly you’ve been starving the poor thing. 

You push through each article of clothing hanging from your closet, deciding on a pair of black jeans and a dark red long-sleeve. Your eyes linger between your plain jean jacket and a gray flannel, ultimately grabbing the flannel and sliding it over your arms. A quick check of the red digits on your bedside table sends you scurrying to finish your hair and makeup, the multiple times you hit snooze this morning quickly catching up to you.

You climb into your truck and turn your key in the ignition. 

Nothing.

You’re not met with the sound of your engine starting, but a repeated clicking every time you turn the key.

“No no no, come on!” You whine anxiously, trying one more time before falling back into your seat with a puff.

Your eyes drift to your side mirror, Eddie’s van still sitting cold and untouched in his driveway. Despite the anxiety coursing through your body, a soft smile tugs at your face as you climb out of your truck and cross the road towards Uncle Wayne’s trailer.

You quickly rap your knuckles against the door, wiping your sweaty hands along your denim jeans as you wait. You hear the sound of an object falling from inside before the trailer door is quickly drawn open to reveal Eddie, who despite being fully dressed also looks like he just rolled out of bed with his unruly mane. 

“There’s something wrong with my truck, mind if I catch a ride with you?” you sigh, putting on your best puppy dog face with pouting lips and begging eyes. He chuckles softly before running a hand through his hair. He’d do just about anything you’d ask him to, especially when you give him that look.

“Of course, just give me a minute.”

He leaves the front door open as he disappears down the hallway toward his room. You know Eddie’s not one to care much about punctuality for school. You, however, only grow more anxious as you look at your watch and see the arm draw closer to the time of the first bell. You light a cigarette as you wait, slowly pacing by his van before he emerges, hair slightly more tame. He greets you with a groggy half-smile as he approaches the van.

“It’s about damn time.” you quip, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Hey, it takes time to look this good, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I can tell.” you tease back, ashing your cigarette out the window as he pulls out of the driveway. Thinking how it takes him no time at all to look as good as he does. Even when his hair is a mess, eyes tired or his mouth hanging open as he sleeps, you always find him so painfully beautiful. 

“So what’s wrong with the truck?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts as the van speeds down the road toward Hawkins High. 

“I don’t know. The engine won’t turn over, bad starter maybe?”

He hums and nods in response as he lights his own cigarette. 

“I can take a look at it for you after school.” he offers as he leans back into his seat, giving you a quick glance.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?”

“I’ve picked up a few things from Wayne over the last couple of years. I know more about cars than just how to hotwire them, sweetheart.” he insists, adding in an eye roll that’s quickly followed with a grin as you laugh.

“If you say so.”

The afternoon sun hanging low in the sky offsets the cool November breeze just enough as you stand next to your truck, watching Eddie as he’s leaned forward under the hood trying to diagnose the issue. You try your best not to let your eyes linger from his hands to the small slither of his lower back, shirt and jacket riding up as he bends over the front grill of your truck. Your thumb nail finds its way between your lips, teeth biting down as you let yourself peek. 

Inappropriate thoughts quickly come crashing in, how soft and warm the pale skin would feel against your fingertips as they slowly glide up his back, your thighs wrapped around his slender waist.

The sight and thoughts quickly disappear as Eddie stands up straight, looking down at your engine as he wipes his fingers off with his bandana.

“You were right, your starter’s bad.”

“Uncle Wayne wouldn’t have happened to teach you how to fix that, huh?”

“Ha, unfortunately no but… I’m sure he himself knows how to fix it.”

“I couldn’t ask him to do that, poor man already works so much.” Your nails find their way between your teeth again, an anxious habit you’ve been meaning to kick someday. Obviously not today. 

“Well, you don’t have to.” He closes the hood of your truck with a loud thud before turning to you with a grin, “Cause I will.” “I can just take it to a shop or ask my Dad to fix it.” You offer quickly with a shake of your head, not wanting to burden Uncle Wayne with the task.

“Soooo spend a bunch of money paying for a tow truck and getting scammed by mechanics because you’re a girl OR put you and your mom in the uncomfortable position of having your dad hanging around?”

You cross your arms with a sigh, not readily admitting defeat but knowing he’s right anyway.

“Look, it’s not a problem. Wayne will be happy to help, I promise.” he presses, tone soft and reassuring to your anxiety.

“Fine, but I’m paying him no matter what he says.”

“Right.” He laughs as he puts his bandana back in his pocket, knowing Wayne would have none of it. 

“Anyway, you wanna come in? We can get some studying done before Wayne wakes up and my mom gets home from work.” You offer, gesturing your head towards the front door of your trailer.

“Sounds absolutely enthralling.” 

“Make yourself at home, I’ll be back in a minute.” you bring Eddie towards your room before slipping away to the bathroom. Eddie’s been in your trailer only twice since you came back, both those times spent solely in your living room. 

He enters your bedroom with slow steps, eyes immediately roaming along the walls and dressers, taking it all in. Browsing the trinkets and books that are sprawled among your dresser. The rows of movie and cassette tapes stacked on the shelfs your small tv sits on in the corner of your room. The posters taken from magazines that litter your bedroom walls. 

Heart, Michael Jackson, Jimi Hendrix. 

You’ve even cut out smaller images of musicians and actors clustered together on the wall near your bed. 

His eyes roam along each one before clocking the multiple images of Metallica’s guitarist Kirk Hammett. 

Someone has a crush. 

He smirks as he eyes them. He can’t help but notice the striking resemblance to him. Same haircut, same wild, dark, curly hair, same brown eyes, same style, same instrument of choice. 

He brushes the thoughts off as quickly as they arose, turning his attention to a picture frame on your bedside table. He picks it up, thumb gently rubbing along the frame as he relives the memory of the picture he hasn’t seen in years.

1980. Sitting on the floor of Uncle Wayne’s living room with your backs to the same loveseat that still sits in the trailer. Your heads are together, big obnoxious smiles on your faces as you both hold your guitars to your chests. It was Eddie’s first guitar of his own, Wayne gifting it to him for his birthday that year. You’d gotten yours for Christmas a few months prior. The same one that’s leaning against your wall now next to your bass guitar.

He carefully sets the picture back on the table with a smile, now knowing you both keep a photo of yourselves together next to your beds. He wonders if you kept it next to your bed in Virginia those years he didn’t hear from you.

Your steps slow as you enter your bedroom, heart warming at the sight before you. Eddie sits on your bed, legs crossed as Henny sits between them, rubbing his head and cheeks against his hand.

“I think Mr. Hendrix here likes me.” He looks up at you with a bright smile, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

Wednesday, November 13th, 1985

You close your front door, greeted with the sight of Eddie already waiting, leaning against your truck with a lit cigarette in hand. 

Ever since Uncle Wayne fixed your truck over the weekend, insisting with a firm but soft tone that he wouldn’t accept any payment, you and Eddie decided to continue your carpooling practice. Switching off day by day who’d drive. Today’s your turn.

Neither of you knew why you hadn’t started it sooner, being neighbors and best friends going to the same place every day. Maybe it was the hesitancy at first of wanting to wait for your friendship to fully rekindle, but that flame reignited so quickly that that’s not much of a reason. 

Regardless, the practice has brought you and Eddie closer if that’s even possible, the 10 minutes total of the time it takes to get to school and back holding some of your favorite moments yet.

Moments like the one now as you pull out of the trailer park, I Just Wanna Make Love to You by Foghat playing through the speakers. Lit cigarettes in hand, softly nodding along to the song’s build up till your heads and bodies are fully bobbing and swaying when the beat kicks in. Both singing along to the lyrics you knew like the back of your hand. Eddie having played the original by Muddy Waters for you years ago from one of his mom’s records.

It’s a simple moment, but one that fills you with so much joy as you and your best friend lose yourselves in the music. Grinning from ear to ear. Filling you up with a sense of content only Eddie can, a feeling that will linger for the day that nothing can shake from your grasp. 

You make me feel like I am whole again.

The smiles stay planted on your faces as you leave the truck, walking across the school parking lot shoulder to shoulder. 

“Well would you look at that. I guess the King and Queen Freaks of Hawkins finally made it official!” Your head turns to see one of Jason’s lackeys, Andy, nudging him with his elbow. Displaying proud smirks.

When will they give it up?! You groan and roll your eyes before a sinking feeling hits your stomach as you process his words. The accusation that you and Eddie are together. No doubt they’ve seen the two of you arriving and departing from school together everyday the past week, all giggles and playful touches. As much as you want it to be true deep down, the fear that Eddie will be embarrassed by the notion fills your mind and body. The fear that he’d be repulsed by the idea, being seen by others as anything more than your friend, let alone your lover. 

Your fear overrules the logic of what you know about Eddie. No one else in this town cares less about what others think of them than him.

Your anxiety quickly dissipates when you feel his arm casually wrap around you, hand firm on your shoulder. His wide smile never leaves his face as he looks them dead-on.

“Aww, feeling a little jealous there, Andy?”

“Pfft,” he scoffs out a laugh “yeah right.”

The way Eddie didn’t waste a second playing into the accusation, not shying away from it, and his reassuring touch on your shoulder brings your usual sassiness back. Your eyes narrow at Andy as you begin to pass the clique, a mischievous grin pulling at your lips.

“Oh, Andy. If you can’t get it past the cheeks then just say that.” you retort, a mocking tone lacing your words before you rip your attention away from them. Confidence in every step as you and Eddie near the entrance, the sounds of light snickers from Eddie’s lips meeting your ears.

“Now that, that was a good one.” he laughs out as you pass through the entrance, removing his arm from your shoulder to face you, giving you a high five with a satisfying clap!

“Catch you at lunch, Queen Freak?” he asks playfully. You answer him with a soft nod before he parts down the opposite hallway to his first class. You watch as his figure moves down the halls before the view’s obstructed by other students. 

The brief interaction with Andy makes its home in your brain for the day, replaying over and over as you sit in class. You can’t stop thinking about Eddie, how quickly he put his arm around you, flaunting your ‘relationship’ in their faces. You mindlessly thumb his guitar pick that hangs from your neck. You’re grateful for how Eddie stepped up to defend you in his own way, but part of you hates it. Hates the way it planted a seed in your brain, a seed that tells you maybe Eddie could see you the way you see him. He clearly wouldn’t be ashamed of it, of being seen ‘with’ you. 

But it’s a seed you refuse to water, doing your best to dismiss the idea. Eddie was just doing what any good friend would do. Certainly anything a best friend of 9 years would do. That’s all it is. Despite how feverishly you push the thoughts away, the act itself leaves your chest feeling hollow. You’re only trying to protect yourself, not wanting to give yourself false hope you know you’ll just latch onto. Only leaving yourself disappointed, heartbroken, and your friendship in tatters. You remind yourself how grateful you are to have him in your life, even as just a great best friend who’d do anything for you. That’s enough… 

at least you hope it is.

Sunday, November 17th, 1985

Your eyes slowly flutter open to the late morning sunlight filtering through your bedroom curtains and the muffled sound of music coming from the living room. You rub your eyes as you lay in bed, trying to decipher the music till you recognize it as Young Hearts Run Free by Candi Stanton. You smile in an instant, humming along to one of your favorite songs before the inevitable. When you wake up on a Sunday to Soul tunes playing, you know you’re in for a day of deep cleaning.

You stretch with a groan before climbing out of bed, barefeet padding along the carpet to the living room where a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sit waiting for you on the edge of the kitchen island. You hear your Mom’s footsteps approach from the hallway leading to her bedroom.

“Goodmorning, sleepyhead. You know the drill, eat your breakfast then get to work. I want this place spotless.” She directs you as she grabs a clean rag from under the sink.

“Aye-Aye, Captain” you reply with a lazy salute, earning an eyeroll and chuckle from her as she returns down the hallway to her own room to clean.

You finish your plate, setting it in the sink to wash later when you get around to cleaning the kitchen before setting off to start with your bedroom. 

You hum along to the songs playing as you finally get around to putting away the pile of folded clothes sitting in the chair of your desk. You wash and change your bed sheets. Smile at the picture of you and Eddie sitting on your bedside table as you remove the leftover cups and water bottles that have made their home on it for the last week. Dust your shelves and surfaces. Vacuum and clean your vanity mirror.

An hour later you’re wandering out of your clean room to start in the kitchen.

You’re just finishing cleaning the shelves in the refrigerator when you hear a knock on the door. Confused, you wander over to see who it is, opening it to your best friend leaning against the door frame. Clad in ripped black jeans, a faded Judas Priest shirt, and his leather jacket. 

The smile on his face only falters for a split second as he notices the most skin he’s ever seen you reveal out of his peripheral. He gulps, but his eyes refuse to leave yours.

“What are you doing here, Munson?” 

“Well, band practice got canceled today. Something about a family get together at Gareth’s, I don’t know.” He gestures nonchalantly with his hands before crossing his arms across his chest. “SO, my plans for the day have opened up. Figured I’d see what you’re up to.” 

“Well, I am knee deep in cleaning this trailer spotless right now. So I clearly have very fun plans for the day.” You scoff out a laugh.

“You know, I can help out if you want. Help you get finished quicker.”

“Really?” You ask with a hint of skepticism, eyebrow quirking as you read him.

“I’ve got nothing else to do.” he shrugs, smile unwavering.

Your mom emerges from her room with a full trash bag in hand, setting it down by the trash can before she catches sight of Eddie in the doorway.

“Eddie! It’s so good to see you, hun. How’s your uncle doing?”

“He’s doing alright. Busy at the plant, same as always.” he shares with a bright smile and the best manners he can for your Mother, as he always does. 

“Hey Mom, do you mind if Eddie helps out with cleaning?”

“You sure? You have nothing better to do than help us clean?” When he gives her the same shrug and smile he gave you, she chuckles before looking around. “Suit yourself. You mind starting by taking this trash down to the dumpster for us?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

He hurriedly meets her, taking the bags of trash from her hands before heading down the street to the dumpster. 

The second he’s out the door, you’re painfully aware of your clothes. Or really, lack thereof. The same clothes you’d worn to bed, dolphin shorts and a tight cropped tank top. Tending to get hot in your sleep, the less clothes the better. 

And Eddie had just seen it. You feel your cheeks warm at the realization.

You quickly head towards your bedroom, closing the door and standing at your vanity dresser with the intention of changing. The pesky insecurities you thought you’d overcome begin to worm their way back in as you look at yourself in the mirror. Thick thighs and calves on full display. The subtle outline of your nipple barbells through your top. Spaghetti straps showing off your strong but chubby arms. Your hands reach to pull out your drawers to search for some pants and a t-shirt.

You shut them with a huff, hands empty as your gaze returns to your reflection. 

You’re not changing a damn thing. Why should you? Eddie’s never once done or said anything to make you feel less than or insecure about your body. 

He’ll never share the feelings you do for him, so why does it matter if he sees a little more of your skin than you usually show? He doesn’t care.

Your posture straightens with confidence as you take a deep breath before reaching for your door handle and walking back out to the kitchen.

Eddie on the other hand, is thankful for the task of taking the trash out, giving him a minute to collect himself. His own eyes had betrayed him when your head turned to the sound of your mom approaching, briefly gazing down to fully take in your outfit for the split second granted to him. Instantly causing his cheeks to turn a shade of pink and a stirring in his jeans. If you’d noticed, you didn’t let it on. He throws the bags in the dumpster, taking deep breaths to control himself as he begins the short walk back to your trailer.

He finds you in the kitchen as he enters, your back to him as you wipe down the stove top.

“So uh, what do you want me to do now?”

You turn to face him, biting your bottom lip as you look around the trailer.

“Hmm, you can take care of the living room while I do the kitchen, just dust and vacuum really.”

“Yes ma’am.” he chuckles when you roll your eyes, taking the can of furniture polish and a rag from you before getting started. 

You both fall into a rhythm easily, quietly cleaning together in the joined rooms as music fills the trailer. You smile when you hear Never Too Much by Luther Vandross begin to play. Your hips start to sway to the beat as you turn on the faucet to wash the dishes in the sink.

The lyrics hit Eddie like a truck.

I can't fool myself, I don't want nobody else to ever love me

You are my shinin' star, my guiding light, my love fantasy

There's not a minute, hour, day or night that I don't love you

You're at the top of my list 'cause I'm always thinkin' of you

I still remember in the days when I was scared to touch you

How I spent my day dreamin' plannin' how to say I love you

You must have known that I had feelings deep enough to swim in

That's when you opened up your heart and you told me to come in

He takes a deep inhale through his nostrils before peeking up from his spot cleaning the coffee table to you. He longs for the day the latter lyrics will hit true. The day when he can look back at this time with humor at the way he longs for you, tiptoes around telling you how he really feels, when he finally has you in his arms.

“Oh, my love. A thousand kisses from you is never too much ” You sing along, hands deep in dish water. “A million days in your arms is never too much”

Oh, how he’s missed your singing. He could listen to you sing all day, literal music to his ears. The sight of you does little to quell his thoughts, either. Dancing and singing in the kitchen while you wash dishes. 

The day when he comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his hips sway with yours, lips resting against your ear. Your bright laugh bubbling from your throat when it tickles. 

The domesticity of it. 

It’s something he never thought was in the cards for him, but when he looks at you…

He chuckles when he hears the sound of your mom’s voice joining in with your singing from the other side of the trailer, shaking his head of the previous thoughts as he focuses back on his tasks.

When he finishes polishing the coffee table, he stands from his crouched potion to move on to the entertainment center. After a few moments his eyes trail back to you like a magnet, only now he has a better view. And boy does he both love and regret it. 

You’re still focused on cleaning the dishes, but as his eyes trail down he sees just how short those shorts are. The curved line at the bottom of your ass cheeks peeking out under your shorts as your hips rock side to side with the music. He’s transfixed by the movement, hypnotized. He has to force his eyes away, knowing he’s in deep shit, the image forever solidified in his brain. 

He knows it’ll slither its way back into his mind late at night when he’s laying in bed, hand wrapped around himself. Just like images of you always do. No matter what sex symbol he forces himself to imagine in the beginning, visualizations of you, eyes closed, perfect lips parted and head thrown back, flash into his mind when he reaches his end. 

Every. damn. time. 

He knows he should be ashamed; of thinking of you, his best friend, in those intimate moments, or letting his eyes linger on you now. He does, but mostly, he doesn’t.

He clears his throat with a cough, feeling his cheeks warm at the thoughts. He’s quick to walk over to the vacuum when he realizes he’s done polishing all the surfaces in the living room. Hoping the noise and movement will distract him, at the very least keep his eyes off you. 

When he finishes, he looks around the room with his hands on his hips, satisfied with his work.

“Did pretty good, Munson.” you announce, a smirk pulling at your lips as you wipe down the kitchen counters.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised” he gives you a playful scowl, eyes narrowing at you.

“I’ve seen your room.”

“Just cause I don’t clean often doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”

“Hmph, maybe we should spend next Sunday cleaning your room. Who knows what we’ll find in there.”

“Ha ha ha” he laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes at you.

You sigh as you wipe the last spot on the counter, scrutinizing the space to ensure it’s clean enough to your mom’s standards. 

“So, what should we do now?” he asks, wandering over to you at the kitchen island. Deciding you’re satisfied with the work you two have done, you meet him, standing on opposite sides of the island.

“Hmm, it’s still early enough. Maybe we could catch a movie?”

“Nightmare on Elm Street 2 is out, could see if it’s a worthy sequel?”

You grab the newspaper sitting on the microwave, searching for the showtimes for the local theater. 

“Got a showing in an hour, we could bring the kids?” You peer up at him with a bright smile.

We could bring the kids.

He knows what you mean, the kids in question. But goddamnit if those words and your smile don’t hit him right in the chest, causing his heart to flutter. 

The domesticity of it.

A life he previously never thought was in the cards for him. But you…

“Yeah, they’ll love it.” he answers with a nod, returning your excited smile.

He follows as you scurry to your room, lingering in your doorway. Watching as you pull a walkie talkie out from your bottom shelf and rally the party together.

Before you know it, you, Eddie, and the 4 teens are huddled into Eddie’s van, barreling down the road toward the movie theater. Late afternoon on a Sunday seems to be the perfect timing. Barely any wait at the concession stand for the numerous bags of popcorn, cups of soda, and packages of candy ordered. Sparsely filled seats in the auditorium leaving you all to quickly snatch the best spots. Eddie and you sit side by side, the kids taking the row in front of you. You grin watching Max and Lucas sit next to each other, shy giggles and whispers. Almost like a first date. 

The chatter from the crowd and your group quiets as the film begins. Quickly digging into the shared bag of popcorn sitting between you and Eddie, just like movie nights at his trailer.

You’re fully engrossed in the movie until a scene of the main characters, Jesse and Grady, during detention after gym class plays. You smirk at the shorts the boys wear, the same style you were wearing earlier, when a playful and curious thought pops into your head. You turn your smirk to Eddie.

“Hey, why don’t you ever wear shorts like that?” You ask in a hushed tone, biting back a laugh when he gives you an incredulous look. “What? I think you’d pull them off.” You quirk an eyebrow at him and shrug nonchalantly before turning your attention back to the screen, smirk permanently planted on your face.

He scoffs out a light laugh, shaking his head at the assertion, displaying a smirk of his own.

Would rather you be the one pulling them off.

[probably-writing-x]

Just a Little Off

Summary:

Warnings: Cursing, I'm sorry this is so sad

Author’s Note: This was so fun to write thank you for this request !! I hope you like it <3 Have a lovely day x

———

“Alright, quiet on set!” Someone shouts out and the room falls to a relative silence, everyone focusing on the scene about to play out.

It was Drew on his own, his character on the phone finding out that your character had just ended up in hospital. He was giving it his all, like someone had genuinely just given him the news about you.

You two had been dating for just under a year now and were working on the second film of the series that you’d worked on together when you first met. Your characters were dating and it hadn’t taken long for you to develop the same feelings for Drew. It was strange coming back to working together again, this time a couple. It was strange seeing the two of you act out scenes like you were pretending with your own relationship.

“And cut!” The director calls out, “Alright, Drew, let’s take a break for lunch and come back to it.”

The crew starts to disperse and filter out of the room, and you wait for Drew’s head to bob above the crowd for you to catch up with him.

“Hey,” You catch his arm when you spot him, “Good job, babe.”

He looks down at you and shakes his head, “I just couldn’t get it, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You frown a little at him, “I thought you played it well, I think maybe they just want a bit more emotion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll wait for them to tell me what they want,” His voice seems cold, but you put it down to him just being stressed about the role, wanting to get scene after scene exactly right. He was dedicated to his work, you couldn’t blame him.

The two of you walk in silence back in the direction of your trailers and you follow him into his one, it being rare that the two of you ever split off into your own trailers anyway. "The two of you walk in silence back in the direction of your trailers and you follow him into his one, it being rare that the two of you ever split off into your own trailers anyway.

"You're not going to lunch?" Drew comments, not looking back as he hears the trailer door close behind him.

"Well, I'll wait for you," You shrug, sitting down on the arm of the couch against one side of the extended room.

"I'm not hungry," Drew returns, still not making eye contact with you - that's the way you always knew something was wrong, he wouldn't connect your gaze. It was like there was a brewing guilt in his eyes that he didn't want you to latch onto.

"You've got to eat, babe," You frown, watching as he paces the short length of the room.

"I'm not hungry," He raises his voice then, not enough to shout but enough for you to notice.

You flinch.

"Sorry," He says quickly, "I'm just stressed about this scene."

You stand up from the couch and walk over to him, dragging your hands up his forearms until they reach his elbows, your eyes trying to catch his gaze, "Hey, don't be stressed. You'll get it."

Drew clenches his jaw and turns his head away from you, staring at an empty spot in the cabin.

"It's fine, you know you can do it," You bring one hand up to cup his cheek and he instantly flinches away from you, pulling away from your contact like you'd been burning into his skin, "Okay what the fuck was that?"

He runs a hand over his short hairs, "Nothing, I told you, I'm fine."

"Drew it's one thing for you to be annoyed about the scene but don't take it out on me," You shake your head, watching the way he moves as if he was waiting to explode.

"I'm not taking it out on you," Still not looking at you, "This is all just different, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"This, us working together, it's weird don't you think?"

You pull your head back as if hit with a wave of inevitable confusion, "What? You think it's weird that we're playing a couple in a movie when we're actually a couple?"

He doesn't respond, and his eyes still won't find you.

"Drew is there something I should be worried about?" You can't fight off the quiver in your voice, the way it seems to shake the air between you.

No response.

"Okay what the fuck is this?" You question, "Seriously, what is going on Drew?"

"It's just different!" He shouts this time, no mistake in the way it seems to echo against thin walls, "We're together in the morning, and we come here, and we have to pretend to be other people, and we eat lunch together, and we go for dinner together and we go home together, and we fuck and we come back the next day. We're together here and we're together at home, and there's just... it wasn't like this last year."

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like it could stop the shiver from running down your spine, "Drew I-"

"We didn't have to think about this last year, we liked each other and it was new and exciting and it was just... different."

This time it's you who is speechless.

"I think that came out wrong, I didn't mean-"

"Maybe you'd be better off if I wasn't here," You say coldly, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, "You know, just for something... different."

You hurry out of the trailer like the place is on fire, feeling the burn of the conversation lingering behind you, the way the words now seem seared on your brain like they were more permanent than an apology could ever seal.

~~~

You don't think to stay around on set for any longer, they didn't need you and you'd left in the first available car. You hadn't cried yet, even when the director asked you three times if you were okay, but you felt sick and dizzy and tired and weak, and everything bad that your mind could think of.

It got even worse when you got back to the apartment you were temporarily renting with Drew. You collapse onto the bed and sigh, like the first breath you've taken since you'd left him, your eyes drifting up to the one piece of personality in the room - a framed photo of you and Drew that he'd packed to bring with you. It was one of the two of you on set from last year, his arms wrapped around you from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder, you were laughing because his breath on your neck was tickling you, and he was looking at you like your giggle was the most angelic thing he'd ever heard.

You reach a hand away from atop the covers of the bed and pull the photo down so it faces downwards towards the nightstand, closing your eyes and willing to wake up to that exact scene.

~~~

Sleep must've overcome you at some point, because you wake up to the weight of a blanket settling over you, the material itching a little at your shoulders. Drew is leaning over you, pausing with his hands just grazing your sides when he sees your eyes opening.

"Shit, sorry," He says quietly, "I just thought you looked cold."

"What time is it?" You mumble, your voice croaky with sleep as you rub a hand over your eyes.

Drew looks down at the nightstand to check the old antique clock, his eyes falling to the photo of the two of you. It's like you can feel the air knock out of his lungs for just a second. He picks it up with his long fingers wrapping around the length of it.

"I love this photo," He can't resist the smile that paints his face.

You shuffle backwards and sit against the headboard of the too-big hotel bed, drawing your knees up to your chest. Drew sits down on the edge in the absence of your legs, his hands still gripping the photo frame.

"I'm sorry about what I said," He speaks slowly like he's ironing out every word, not wanting to speak too hastily like he had done before, "I was stressed about the scene, and about the film, and I just spiralled. You were there and I took it out on you. And I feel sick about what I said to you, I hate myself for it."

You take a deep breath and try to stop the ache in your heart from letting you reach out to him, "Drew, I need you to be honest with me. If that's how you feel, tell me. If I'm wasting my time with this, tell me."

"Hey, no, no, no," Drew reaches out for you, gripping your hand to pull it away from yourself, "I wasn't thinking straight."

The tears spill now, and they shake through your shoulders, "I can't stop thinking about what you said, it's just repeating in my head," Your voice breaks, the words croaking out.

"(Y/N) please," His voice matches yours, "Just tell me what I can do."

When your eyes meet his, feeling like the first time in forever, you feel like you're looking at a different boy. And the realisation hits you that your answer to his plea is simply nothing.

[stevieschrodinger]

Steve is vaguely aware that Robin is watching him. He knows she's there, at least, but this right now is more important. He's hoovered, he's washed every blanket in the house, he's wiped ledges and dusted furniture and scrubbed the skirting boards. He's on his second day, getting sweaty moving furniture to clean under it.

His grocery list is nearly two pages long, but he keeps adding to it every time he thinks of something. He can't miss anything, this has to be perfect.

"Steve?" Robin asks, as he's on a chair dusting the fancy light fitting over the dining table. It's not quite a chandelier, but it's not far off either.

"Yeah?" He answers absently.

"So, we've established that you're nesting pretty hard."

Steve doesn't answer. He doesn't need too, they've been over this a couple of times already, and Steve knows he's nesting, he's actually very very aware of the fact, but that doesn't mean he can stop doing it, not with how his instincts are roaring at him.

Eddie's been out of the hospital for two weeks now, and Wayne's working a night shift tonight. Normally, Steve would head over to the new trailer and sleep on the couch, getting up in the night to check on Eddie.

But Eddie's feeling better now, and asked if tonight, when Wayne goes to work, he could come here instead. Could sleep with Steve, who unlike Eddie, has a bed which could comfortably accommodate two full grown men, one of which needs a bit of space because he still has healing injuries.

Tonight is different. Eddie's a bit better on his feet, he's feeling stronger, so tonight he's going to sleep here, for the first time, Steve has agreed. Steve's going to go and pick him up. Steve's going to feed him.

Steve's Alphas been pretty insane ever since, trying to make his home as appealing as possible for Eddie.

"Maybe we should go get groceries? I think you need a break Steve."

And that's not a terrible idea. Buying food so that Eddie has a selection of things to eat appeals to Steve on an even more base level than the nesting, so he agrees easily.

Steve tries to fill the cart with bright arrays of fruit and veggies and quality meat and fish. Robin pulls a face and asks, "have you even met him Steve?" Before dramatically swiping half a shelf of chips into the cart.

Steve doesn't mind. He wants Eddie happy. He wants to show that he can provide.

"You know he won't care, right?" Robin tries, yet again, "this won't register with his Beta brain-"

"It matters to me," and Steve stops loading the car when he realises he's snapped at her, "sorry, I just. It matters to me. It really matters that I do this right, okay?"

"I know, I just don't want you to be hurt when he maybe doesn't appreciate all of this the way an Omega would. Hell, maybe even the way a girl might, you know? I just worry about you, I've never seen you like this before."

Steve sighs, and nods, because she's right and logically, he knows that Eddie Munson is not going to notice that Steve cleaned at all. He's not going to bat an eyelid if that house is sparkling clean or filthy dirty. He won't care if Steve cooks or orders take out. These instincts are ALL Steve.

But there's nothing he can do about it. Because of Eddie's injuries, all they've done is Steve scenting Eddie gently on his wrists, mostly to placate Steve's protective and possessive streak. Eddie let's Steve suck a mark onto his throat when he gets desperate. He NEEDS, on a visceral level, for people to see Eddie and know that he's taken. For Eddie to stink of Alpha, of Steve, so strongly that people will think it's Eddie's scent. He's never felt like this about anyone before, and he's at a loss as to how to explain it.

Eddie's on the phone when Steve gets there, Steve letting himself in quietly like he does every night, catching the end of the conversation, "don't worry Rob, I've got it. Yep yep. I know, I get it. Message received. Yeah, I'll call you."

Eddie finally hangs up, turning, a little surprised to see Steve, but then smiling big and for Steve it's like the sun coming out.

"Hey there, big boy," Eddie immediately tilts his head back, an open invitation to Steve's Alpha, and Steve forgets all about the conversation Eddie was having with Rob in favour of scenting Eddie and leaving some fresh bruises on his throat.

When they get to the house, Eddie compliments the tidiness of the kitchen, the neatness of the lounge, how fresh the place scents. He eats what Steve gives him and tells him how tasty it all is, how perfect and filling. He touches blankets and says how soft they are, how perfectly chosen. Steve's preening, so puffed up with happy Alpha pride that it takes days for Steve to realise what had happened, what the phonecall must have been; Rob had coached Eddie.

Steve expects to be hurt, for a second, but that feeling never comes. He's just happy one of his pack is looking out for him, and that his mate is happy. And he knows Eddie is happy. Eddie might be a Beta, but he still smells subtly of fresh cut grass when he's happy.

[bisexualenbyblueberry]

OKAY OKAY OKAY

EVERYTHING I, A DUMBASS, NOTICED

I watched it on Netflix several times and it says in the subtitles that the British person doing the beginning narration is named Kosmo. Do with that what you will.

In what Kosmo is saying there's obviously some "we are all stardust" symbolism, but what exactly does he mean by "a thousand eyes"? Could it have something to do with the fact that the celestial elves all hide their eyes? I'm honestly guessing that Kosmo might be the elf that's beside Astrid in some of the shots, the one with some orange hair? Also off topic but Astrid and possibly-Kosmo both have other hair colors peeking out from the navy, do we think that their culture dyes their hair to match the color of the night sky?

3. The pillars have something that looks very similar to Viren's staff in them. This enforces the theory that the celestial elves worship or are related to Aaravos in some way, because isn't it implied/confirmed that Aaravos gave Ziard that staff? Also, the pillars are all a slightly different shade, and I'm pretty sure they're supposed to be the arcanums (sun, moon, ocean and earth here)

4. Karim got his ring back, along with that new outfit

5. You can see Pyrrah and Zym approaching in the upper right corner here, along with something on the ground- the shadowpaw, maybe? (Also, sorry about the subtitles- I took these in a rush)

6. We finally found that salad mixer! Also, if the pillars are supposed to be representing the primal sources, why are there EIGHT of them? If you look close enough, the visible one in the center here is purple. I suppose this could have something to do with Aaravos giving humanity dark magic, if they do worship him? (Also, please note the lyric "the stars fall")

(Editing: I wrote seven. There are eight. I was counting in a rush. I apologize, I'm, once again, a dumbass)

7. WHY IS RUNAAN CORRUPTED? I'm praying to God this is a nightmare of some sort. The background is starry, so this is definitely something happening at the starscraper-how on earth could he have gotten corrupted??

(Editing: Like, the same corruption the banther had)

8. Okay, this may be something they edited for the trailer itself, but look at this!! Also, I do believe this is supposed to be Finnegrin's office. Maybe Callum has another meeting with Aaravos in his nightmares and shows up where he did dark magic the second time while Aaravos tries to convince him to join his side while showing him a corrupted version of himself- sort of like when he went into that first dark magic trance? And Aaravos is sort of smiling smugly in the next shot.

9. Okay, crying aside, WHY IS HE IN THE VALLEY OF THE LOST? Or whatever the place where Harrow and Sarai's statues are is called? Like, same steps, same pire, that is definitely the valley of the lost. He couldn't have ended up there by himself, could he? And if he went with Claudia to do whatever it is she wants to do now (I guess chase after Viren, maybe?) I guess he did forgive her for the whole almost-stabbing-him-and-leaving-him-on-the-beach debacle?

10. Honestly no idea about the context for this one, there's blood in his hair and I felt like pointing that out.

(Editing: Also those are the little brick towers that are on that bridge thing where Soren does lunges and talks to Viren and Callum and shit. So he is beat senseless, but also in Katolis?)

11. I'm pretty sure if you zoom in close enough, that's Claudia (or maybe Viren, not sure)- so Terry did indeed follow her to the valley of the lost. No idea what she's up to, but something bad enough to make Terry cry.

And that's it! God, I'm excited. the 26th can't come fast enough

[l-lellal3ee]

🪦 Possible spoilers ahead, maybe…? 🪦

So, I’m not saying our new giant skelly pal is essentially a necromantic mech… But I am going to heavily imply it.

(I was kind of hoping someone else would pick up on this and post about it, because none of my posts are showing up in the tags, but here we go anyway [I think I have fixed that problem, now… I hope].)

I thought it was kind of strange that Emmrich was heavily featured wearing a completely different outfit than what we’ve seen him in so far, meanwhile everyone else is wearing their usual garb. I think that particular getup is directly linked with our new, enormous friend. Literally and figuratively. But we’ll get back to that in a moment…

Something that I didn’t notice until my third watch through the trailer, where I slowed things down to look at the details, was the way the movement of Big Skelly’s hand seemed to sync up with Emmerich’s. I then noticed the glowing thing in the skeleton’s chest that at a first glance, looks like a battery of sorts.

The next time you see our huge buddy, there’s a group of what definitely appear to be Mortalitasi (judging by the visible jewelry and armor silhouettes that seem similar to Emmrich’s original outfit), or maybe specifically Mourn Watchers if this is a ‘high-clearance’ event, standing before the rising skeleton. Between their body language and the green beams of light, it appears they are giving their power, spirit energy, etc. to Big Skelly. You can see it literally being sucked out of them and into the battery-looking component in the chest cavity.

”Hiiiiiiiii~ probably Johanna!”

(Goals, tbh.)

This brings me back to Emmrich’s armor, and is where my heart-eyes for the Big Boney Friendo start to fade into concern for my future necromancer boyfriend.

Not only did the jarringly different armor confuse me, but the not-so-subtle prongs made alarm bells start ringing in my head after what I had noticed seemed to be going on with Manfred’s Enormous Cousin.

To me, the prongs look very much like implements for channeling/outputting magic or energy, either from a distance or by literally plugging into something… I’m sure you’re picking up what I’m putting down. I think Emmrich is going to basically be the pilot for the big dude. Which is where I get worried because there’s different ways that could work, and different repercussions that could come as a result.

This could be something he can do from a safe distance, where the prongs basically ‘broadcast’ his movements to the skeleton, or he may have to physically be inside it somewhere, somehow for it to work. In either circumstance, this could either be just a big, badass Emmrich moment, or it could be a potential point of no return.

We don’t know if this skeleton is one of the huge, dangerous anomalies from the depths of the necropolis with a level of sentience or will of its own that they’ve managed to study and can dredge up, and essentially leash, in be-all, end-all situations - or if it’s purely a construct that lies dormant as a last resort for when shit really hits the fan with an unknown-to-us cost to power up. It may sap so much power and energy that it greatly threatens, or requires, the ultimate sacrifice of whoever is controlling it. Maybe also those Mortalitasi who seemed to power it up, who knows how great the cost was to them.

This brings me to the last time we see our giant friend in the trailer. They look much worse for wear; their neckpiece/face covering is gone and the capsule in its chest that held the battery-esque piece appears damaged, and the battery itself looks to either be missing, or like there’s a dark shape/figure in front of it or in its place. It’s too hard for me to tell or even try to guess if there’s a person in the capsule here. It certainly is the right size for it, though.

Taash (judging by the horns and the braid) is below as the big guy attacks, but I can’t tell if it’s attacking Taash, or if this scene is cut/cropped specifically to keep us guessing or not give anything away, and they’re both fighting a shared, offscreen enemy. This kinda feeds back to “we don’t know if big skelly is a sentient creature or just a construct” and we don’t know what it would do if something happened to the ‘pilot’ and control was lost, or if the battery/container of energy (possibly also a source of control in some way?) was damaged or lost - would the big boi just start attacking everyone/everything rather than “shut down?”

This post is a mess, I’m sorry, but it’s been driving me insane all day. I kept going back and re-evaluating the clips and screenshots over and over.

BioWare, you’re going to dangle my dream old man necromancer in front of me, then heart-wrenchingly rip him away, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?!?!!

[peaky-shelby]

New Romantics | Mbappé [5]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

« previous chapter

» chapter 5: tears of Mascara

» writer's note: i have two things for you. Except a 10k chapter which i hope you guys won't stop reading midway. First is this playlist. Dedicated alone to this chapter. Second Is the chapter trailer below. I'll try to do these videos for every chapter bc it's kinda fun 👀👀 alsoooooo i apologize for the angst and well... The ending.

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113 @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon @formula101x @neymarloverxxx @cepolar @freespirit-51

TRAINING CAMPUS / PRIVATEL ROOM - DAY

“So that’s two T’s for Lottin then?”

Kylian leaned in looking at her notes “Is my full name really necessary for this?”

“Think I’ll just call you little lotte from now own” she smiled and he tried to snatch the paper right from under her arm but she held it down “keep your hands away, will you?”

“You are enjoying this too much.”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked and pulled her paper closer to her, writing his name on the top. Kylian kept glancing between her and her notes, leaning back on his chair.

He wanted to get out of the room, maybe even lock her inside. He thought about it, numerous times, thinking what way would be quicker and looking around for a key. “I want this to be over as quick as you do so just answer my questions and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Had the two started getting along after their moment at the end of the match 3 days ago? Yes, kinda. During the next couple of days neither of them tried to kill each other or provoke each other, which was progress but her presence was still a threat to him and every time he saw her whispering away with Galtier he felt a sense of annoyance in his chest. Hakimi had to poke him or hit him to get him focused on the training.

“you’re staring.” He told him one day, throwing the ball on his face. Kylian caught it right before it hit his nose and held it down “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have a crush on her.” Kylian gave him a puzzled look.

“Tais-toi!” he said and Hakimi winked.

A crush on her? She was a stubborn, child-like girl that didn’t know when to shut up. He laughed at the thought, leaning his head back on the chair. Taylor noticed, raising her eyes at him “is there something funny I missed?”

“No.” Kylian said, shrugging his shoulders and sat straight “let’s get over with this.”

She studied him. He was obviously hiding something , she knew that smile all too well by now. The smile of a person that was thinking of ways to annoy her. But Taylor had started enjoying their banter. It wasn’t just yelling and offensive comments anymore, they teased each other regularly, almost like they were friends.

One day during the end of training, while she was sitting in her usual spot, watching over them like a hawk, Neymar took the initiative to call for her.

“Hey Taylor come see this!” he said and she looked at him confused. She was curious to know more so she made her to him. He was standing next to Ramos. Kylian and Hakimi were jogging behind them. Neymar had a ball under his foot.

“What is it?” she asked

Neymar pointed at the ball on his foot, like he wanted her to duck and take a closer look. Which she did. She was puzzled to say the least but before she could glance up at him and ask him what was going, she was being showered by the automatic water stations on the grass. She yelled, falling backwards by the surprise and the pressure. Neymar began running when she got up to chase him. She twisted the station of the source so it would target him but he ducked and instead it got on Kylian.

“Ah merde!” he yelled and looked at her, while he moved quickly away from the sprays of water, bumping on Hakimi. He looked at himself, his wet clothes and then up at her. He was pissed.

She was trying to hold in her laugh and apologize but she couldn’t hide how much pleasure she took by the accident. Kylian started coming closer to her, his dark eyes making her sweat and worry. She walked backwards, she didn’t know if he was teasing her or if he was actually mad but his glare was doing something to her. She was almost enjoying it until another station turned on automatically, this time behind her, the water hitting her on her back. She ran forward to where Kylian was but before she could pass him, he grabbed her, his arms tying around her and pulling her closer to the source as revenge. Finally laughing while she kicked her legs and tried to get away from his hold, screaming when the cold water washed her entire body. He let her down quickly in front of the source and they both sprinted away in different directions. Looking at each other while the spraying waters separated them. They were smiling in between their heavy breaths, bopping there heads. Almost like they liked one another.

Kylian had already moved on to a conversation with Hakimi when be very swiftly removed his shirt.

Taylor was still looking.

He caught it, grinning at her before moving inside the building. Giving her a wink of acknowledgment. That was her the first time she caught herself slipping.

A few moments later she rushed downstairs to the locker rooms, opened one of the closets with the spare clothes and took a sweatshirt with the PSG logo. She went to the showers and took her shirt off, using one of the towels to rub her skin and bra that was also a little wet.

“Freaking 5-year-olds-” she murmured but she was smiling.

She looked up in the mirror while rubbing her hair when she promptly saw a head peaking behind the wall. She turned around instantly, checking. Covering her breasts with her towel. But there was no one there.

She put on the sweatshirt right away, tied her hair up and left.

That little adventure was the reason why she had been sneezing all day and during the interview of course.

“Got a cold?” Kylian asked.

“Yeah, an asshole decided to have a water fight in the middle of January.”

“Ah, I’m sure he meant well”

“No-“ she sneezed “pretty sure it’s part of a big plot to get rid of me.”

Taylor began with her questions. Easy ones at first and things that he could answer with a yes or no. he preferred answering with one word, it meant he didn’t have to communicate with her too long but she started to take notice of his tactic, looking up at him.

“Do you believe your personal life influences the way you play recently?”

“No.” he said bluntly. She didn’t seem to believe him and her eyes remained on him, examining every line on his face, anything that would give away his lying. They lingered like that for a while, looking at each other, expecting for one another to say or do something.

“Do you feel like it has in the past?”

“no.” he said again. She laughed at his quick response and started writing on the paper. Kylian tried to peak and see what she was noting, whatever it was it was longer than his answer “what are you writing?”

“Your answer.”

“My answer was one word, not one paragraph.”

“was it?” she asked, her voice coming out in a high pitch.

“pute” he mumbled under his breath. “are you freestyling with these?”

“You know my high school French is not that good but I know that word you keep saying isn’t a kind one.”

“Too busy playing football in high school, right?”

“Excuse me?” she seemed worried now as she looked at him. He smiled.

“You said you learnt to play in high school, so I’m guessing you weren’t really paying attention in French. C'est une honte. J'aimerais vous entendre parler cette langue.“ [it’s a shame I’d like to hear you speak the language.]

“Excuse me?” she asked, not able to translate his last comment. He smiled because he had just found his new favorite game. “We are here to focus on you so lets not waste time on me or French lessons.”

“Why wouldn’t we? I mean I’m very interested to know where the journalist learnt to play like a pro.” He bent forward, placing his arms on the table and staring in her eyes. “Tu as eu un footballeur comme petit ami? Aimes-tu les footballeurs?” [Did you have a footballer boyfriend? Do you even like footballers?]

He was trying to make her uncomfortable and it was working. Still if there was one thing that taylor could do was hide her nerves in front of men like him. So, her eyes remained icy and her expression unbothered. “Je pense que oui. Et peut-être que tu as un petit béguin pour Marquinhos.” [I think you do. I think you might have a crush on Marquinhos]

“Enough with the french Kylian.”

“I’m trying to help you practice.”

“I’m the one asking the questions in English. So, sit back and let me finish this so I can go home.” He grinned. Her icy exterior couldn’t fool him. She’d always get nervous when asked about her past or her boss. “Are you satisfied with your performance in the last game?” she asked again.

He twisted his tongue, biting it. The two could be in a staring contest the way that they were going. He didn’t want to answer the question. She wouldn’t stop until she got an answer out of him. And yet the longer she looked in his eyes, the more the warmth in her chest would grow. He angled himself even closer, a mischievous grin on his lips “how about this. You’ll answer one of my questions, I’ll answer two of yours.”

“that’s not how interviews work. You’re just trying to avoid the question,”

“Did you play professionally?”

“Did your performance in the last game leave you satisfied?” she persisted.

“I think you did.” He whispered “mais tu n'es jamais assez bien.” [but you were never good enough] He grinned, a suggestive grin “Mais tu étais sexy dans l'uniforme, je l'admets.” [Although you did look sexy in that uniform].

Her eyes found his in surprise. That word sounded the same almost in any language. “Tu l'étais aussi dans la salle de bain..” [you did in the bathroom too] If only she knew what he had confessed. She wanted to ask what he said but that grin of his was too annoying. She knew he wanted her to ask, to continue his little game so she didn’t. She took the initiative to lean forward as well, not calculating in her mind how much closer that simple movement would bring them.

“I think it didn’t leave you satisfied. You pretty much said so to me in the roof, remember? I think it hasn’t for a while.” She said in his face. He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting from her eyes to her notes. Sometimes stopping on her lips “I think you’re scared to admit it. Γιατί είσαι δειλός.” He tried to process what language she was speaking, thought he had heard wrong. She smiled. “Two can play this game.”

“What language is that?”

“My grandmother was Greek.”

He gasped in understanding “that’s why you’re so loud all the time.”

She scrunched up her face, taking his stereotypical comment as a compliment “Can we get back to the interview please? How do you feel your personal life impacts your performance?”

“Some nights you can’t give your 100%.”

“When was the last time you gave your 100%?”

He didn’t like that question. It stunk. How did she do that? Always found the one thing to say that would get him angry, that would mess with his mind. He felt the temperature raising from his stomach to his chest while her eyes pierced through his walls and he drew back. His expression changed completely, he didn’t want to play anymore, he wanted this godforsaken interview to be over. “How long do we have left? Ney’s interview was done in 10 minutes.”

“Neymar was answering the questions in english” She answered quickly, pointing out the difference “even Verratti was more cooperative.” Kylian laughed at that, crossing his arms “true it was because he can’t stand being in the same room with me for longer than 5 minutes but at least he was talking. Now-“ she paused, her expression getting stricter “do I have to repeat myself?”. His eyes drifted away, searching for an escape. He wasn’t going to answer her.

“What did Verratti say when you asked him that?”

“I don’t have the same questions for everybody.”

Somehow that hurt even more. She kept waiting for him to speak, say anything but his lips remained closed and she decided and she knew she wasn’t getting anything out of him. Nothing like the things he told her on the roof. So what was the point? She was over it. “You know what?” she got up, piling up her papers in a folder “we are done, you can go.”

“What?” his eyes darted while she was picking up her stuff.

“I got what I need. We are good.” She gave him a fake smile and moved around the table to get to the exit. When she passed in front of him, he jumped up from his seat, pushing his chair back and grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She crashed on his chest, looking down before looking up, realizing how close she was when she could taste his breath on her lips. Seconds later and they were still looking at each other, standing in such close proximity that they could notice all the details in each other’s faces. His hand tied like a tight bracelet around her.

All of a sudden, he forgot the reason he grabbed her in the first place because all he could think of was her undressed figure, standing in front of the mirror, the day before. He hadn’t thought about it until now that she was as close to him and he let his mind imagine what was under her clothes.

“Let go of my arm. You have 10 seconds.”

He blocked out his inappropriate thoughts.

“you said to me every time you think you are getting close, I turn into a dick. Well, every time I think I can trust you; you turn into a bitch-“

She yanked his hand away. He licked his own teeth, biting his tongue and his lips. She didn’t say anything. She simply moved away and went for the door when-

“Wait for the game with RENNES. Send whatever these are after it.”

She stopped and faced him. He was like a kid begging for a second chance in the final exam because he knew he had failed before the results were out. She knew it wouldn’t make a difference in her report if she waited. She had already decided what she would write. But a part of her wanted to believe that she’d see something better, something that would change her mind and the conclusion of her report. A part of her wanted to help him.

“Why? You’re gonna give your 100% in that game?”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I wouldn’t know Kylian.” She opened the door “I told you the day I met you. I just write what I see.” She winked and walked out. He stood alone in the private room. Rubbing the back of his head and thinking. He looked at his palm, the palm that had fit perfectly around her arm. He breathed in deeply. A part of him wishing he could be as close to her more often.

GALTIER’S OFFICE – DAY

“I think it’s unnecessary. According to Marcos, you’ve already earned their respect.” Said Galtier standing in front of the wide windows. Marcos was sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk and Taylor was standing up, trying to look as calm as she could. Even though her heart always beat a little faster when she was in the room with Galtier.

“That’s exactly why I don’t think we should tell them yet. I know I agreed for a week but things are just starting to work out and I think I should be the one to tell them the truth when it’s right. Otherwise, it will backfire” She felt like she was being examined by him with the way he was eyeing her. She held tighter on her folders and tried so her eyes wouldn’t reflect her fear.

“How long are we talking about?”

“Just a couple of days after the game with RENNES.”

“And why aren’t the reports ready yet?”

“They are” she paused “sort off. I just haven’t a complete view of every player yet and I think it would be better if you let me attend one more game before I give them to you.”

“Ms. Wilock…” he unbuttoned his suit and sat on his chair, looking over at her “it sounds to me like you came here with a bunch of excuses. This isn’t high school-“

“I understand sir-“

“I’m not sure you do. And do me a favor, do not interrupt me when I’m talking.” She felt her pride shattering and shrinking. Marquinhos glanced at her, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “I offered you this job because I thought you were up to it. I’m starting to have doubts.”

She looked at him, trying to find the right words when she realized there are none so she just went for it “Sir with all due respect-“ she made a step forward “you trusted me with a very important and heavy position, for which I’m thankful, but if you lose faith in me just because I’m not doing it your way then I don’t understand why I’m here at all” Marquinhos smiled, his eyes now glancing at Galtier who seemed to be as surprised with her as he was. “I’ve gotten closer to the team already, and I think I proved my loyalty on the previous game with that yellow card- which is not gonna happen again by the way” she raised her finger nervously, let out a laugh which she swallowed just as quickly “but the point is that when they find out the truth, if it’s not the right time and the right way, I’m gonna lose them.” Her eyes almost got warmer like she was about to cry “let me do this my way and I promise you will not regret it. They boys are broken; they don’t need another coach to yell in their face-” she glanced over at Marquinhos “they need someone to be there for them.”

He didn’t answer which only made her more nervous. She really thought the next thing she’d hear was that she was fired. Why was she risking everything like that? Who was he risking it for?

“She’s right.” Marcos said, putting a momentarily pause on her thoughts. She looked at him, surprised for his support. “They boys have began trusting her so I don’t think there will be much protest when her position is revealed. However, when they find out she is JW, it will be a tough pill to swallow for some. They will eventually get over it, and I don’t think it will be a big deal but maybe it’s best we do it after the game with RENNES so they are focused on that. To trouble them with this now will be a mistake. We can tell them before the trip and friendly match in Qatar.”

Galtier looked like he was considering it. He kept looking at both of them, pouting his lips and it looked to Taylor like it had been hours before he finally nodded and gave them both his approval. “Alright. I expect everything to be sorted before we leave for Qatar then. But that’s your final chance. You hear me?”

“Yes sir!”

“And I want those goddamn reports before then.”

“You’ll have them.” She reassured and with a nod exited the office. Before she left, she mouthed and inaudible ‘thank you’ to Marcos and he smiled back at her.

When the two men were alone, they grinned at each other. Galtier reclined on his chair “You think they’re gonna eat her alive?”

“No.” he said “On the contrary, I think she is exactly what they need. She’s already bringing the team together in her own way. She’s nervous, yes…” he laughed “but she just needs time.”

“I told you before we hired her Marcos. All she’s getting is a month.”

“And that’s enough for her, trust me. She’ll prove to you her worth before then”

“She better.”

TRAINING CAMPUS / HALLWAYS – DAY

“Taylor!” Marquinhos called for her as soon as he got out of the office. She turned around to him, let out a gasp of relief and threw herself on him, hugging him as tight as she could. He chest vibrated in laughter and his face lit up as he patted her back.

“Thank you.” She mumbled in his shirt and pulled back to look in his eyes “You’re my savior.”

He laughed “don’t worry about it.” He rubbed her head, smiling. “You got this.”

“Do I?” he tilted his head “yes, I do. Of course, I do.”

“I do have a question though.”

“What is it?”

“This morning you told me you had your last Interview with Kylian and your reports would be completed so you wanna tell me what really happened?” She couldn’t lie to him. He had that look of the good teacher you had at primary school, that was never loud but was strict in a sweet way. That wanted the best for you and knew when you were lying before you even got the chance to lie.

She sighed “Kylian asked me to delay them-“ He raised his eyebrows and she pulled her hands up to stop him from making assumptions “He doesn’t know about all this but he figured out the interviews were for something important and he asked for one more performance before you know… I sent them over to JW.”

“You really think one game is gonna make a difference to his report?”

“No…” she whined, rubbing her head “But I’m trying to get on his good side so I figured that I could give him a second chance-“

“It could have cost you your job.”

“I know. Which is why I’m not really happy about it.” She explained, her voice trailing off as she spoke “I don’t know maybe it wasn’t for him. Maybe it was for me because I know that when the truth comes out they’ll all hate me anyway.” She groaned, hit her face with her folders and held them up to hide her expression “What was I thinking?”

“Taylor. Calm down. It’s ok.” He laughed while trying to comfort her, he pushed the folders down, away from her face.

“You think they’re gonna forgive me?”

Marcos gave her a careful look. Just as before, it resembled a teacher that knew more than he was letting on “Are you referring to all of them in general or do you have someone specific in mind?” He raised his hand before she could even react to his comment “Actually I don’t want to know.”

“Just for the record it was all of them-“

“Sure. Listen, half of them never cared about the articles. It was the ones you targeted most that you’ll have to deal with. Ramos, Neymar, Verratti… Kylian.”

“That last one is gonna bury me alive.”

“You’ll be fine. Just have those reports ready after the RENNES game.”

“Yes captain!”

“Tay!” Neymar shouted her name from the other side of the hall. She looked at him, her heart getting heavy because she already knew what this was about. Marquinhos patted her on the shoulder and she smiled at him before walking over to Neymar.

“Everything alright?”

Neymar glanced at his phone, handing it over to her. She held it in her palms, reading the article that he had opened for her. It was the one she had written. She looked up at him, a bit regretful, a bit scared.

“Did you know he was going to post that?”

She wanted to say yes, she wanted to tell him the whole truth and ask for forgiveness because she knew she had hurt him. God knows how much she had struggled writing in the last couple of days about any of the boys. Instead, she shook her head, because she couldn’t handle what the truth would do to him. “I mean…” she bit on her lips, sighing “I knew he was…” she gulped “writing something about you-“

“Neymar Jr. gives another mid performance after his return from the world cup in a team he clearly doesn’t want to be in-“ she tried to stop him but he kept going. She felt like she was being repeatedly stabbed. She closed her eyes while he read her own bitter words. She realized maybe she had been too bitter and it was because she was trying to cover up how much she had come to love them personally. “that’s a lot of criticism. Your boss is a piece of work- You should have told me.”

She didn’t answer him.

“it’s not your fault, don’t look at me like that.” She wanted to cry. “Just wish you would have warned me. Maybe next time?” she nodded silently; she didn’t dare to open her mouth because she knew all that would come out were sobs. Neymar pecked her temple and left to go back to his training.

She stood frozen where she was. She could feel waves rising on her chest, ready to drown her. There was havoc in her mind. Galtier’s warnings. Marquinhos words. Neymar’s eyes. Kylian’s touch. The happy memories she had so far mixed with the regret of poisoning them with lies. And all for what? Just to shut Kylian up the first time she met him. Blaming him was easy, it was almost an automatic defensive response. She searched or the nearest exit, storming out of the building and gasping for air.

TRAINING CAMPUS / FRONT ENTRANCE – AFTERNOON

Kylian saw Taylor sitting on the sidewalk just outside the exit of the building. He contemplated talking to her or letting her be.

“Waiting for an uber again?” he asked and she twisted her body to be able to see him. She turned back to her previous position without saying anything. “You never learnt how to drive?” he tried to make a joke, he sat next to her but she moved slightly away from him, sighing.

“Not everyone has the money for cars. Check your privileges.” She murmured.

“Are you ok?” Kylian searched for her eyes, tilting his head. She turned her face the other way, as far away from his as she could. “Taylor!”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, turning her gaze to him. He was baffled by her response. Still a smirk appeared slowly on his face, she wanted to slap it right of him.

“JW giving you a hard time?”

“Goddman it Kylian. What do you want? Hm? What do you want to hear?” She snapped, her eyes burning with a devilish kind of fire.

He observed her face. Her tired eyes, the circles under them. Her lips were dry- why am I looking at her lips? He looked at her neck instead just for a few second before the picture of her half naked figure flashed before his eyes again. He looked back at her eyes and shrugged “nothing.”

“Then leave, can you?”

He bit the corner of his mouth while her eyes lingered on him with anger. He had no reason to stay. He got up, pulling his backpack over his shoulder and walking to his car. He stopped midway. Looked back at her. She seemed… vulnerable. He didn’t think the woman was capable of that but apparently she was as human as the rest of them. There were two voices in his head. One of them wanted to help, genuinely. The other wanted to take advantage of it and sounded more like Verratti. He decided to listen to both.

“do you want a ride home?” She raised her head. Disbelief all over her face. She probably thought he was making a joke. So, he continued “Pretty sure you’ve wasted more money on ubers than food ever since you got here. It’s on my way anyway, so might as well.” She didn’t answer him, which was driving him insane. He spread his hands, awaiting for an answer.

She got up, walked over to him. “if you kill me, Luna will die of hunger and that cat’s death will be on you.” She said, passing him. He stood still for a few minutes, laughing. Yep, there she was back at it.

“When the party’s over” by Billie eilish echoed in the car. The music was low enough to hear the raindrops as they tapped on the window and the top of the car but loud enough to allow both of them to get carried away by the melody and avoid conversation at first. He kept glancing at her, she had her head laid by the window, so he couldn’t really see anything except the back of her neck. He didn’t have to be in her head to know that she was lost in her thoughts. He could sense it in the silence and he was pretty sure she had her eyes closed for most of the ride. He reached to turn of the music, that’s when he got a reaction out of her.

“Don’t” she said, holding his hand. He looked directly at her, for a second forgetting he was driving until she moved her cold hand away. He looked back at the street, focusing on the road “I like this song.” She explained, her voice coming out a little louder than a whisper. He put both hands on the steering wheel to replace the sensation of her palm on his.

“Your hands always that cold?”

“Sorry.” She said bluntly. Looked out the window again. Way to make conversation, he thought and glanced at her. She started humming to the music of the song, turned her head by the window again. He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel awkwardly, he didn’t know what to say. He started kissing his own lips, little ‘tsks’ leaving his mouth repeatedly until she smacked his arm- “stop with that it’s annoying.”

“Ouch!” he complained, shifting his shoulder away from her like he had actually been hurt. “femme ingrate” he murmured under his breath. She snapped her head towards him, smacking him again. He gasped, moving his entire body closer to the door.

“Stop it with the french too, it’s even more annoying!” She raised her voice “If you have something to say to me just say it in a language I understand. There!” she pointed angrily at the radio “now the song is over. Thanks for that-“

“You know if you want you can walk out the door, walk back home in the rain.”

That shut her up alright. He let a very low scoff escape his lips as he looked at the street again, mumbling a “putain” under his breath as well. She crossed her arms, leaning deeper in her seat. Now he really wanted to know what was going on.

“Did he fire you or something?” he asked, not looking at her.

“What?”

“Your boss. Did he fire you is this why you are like this-“

“Why do we always have to talk about my boss?” she topped his voice, exasperated.

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“You’re just trying to fish for information” she murmured “I’m not dumb Kylian.”

“Hey I didn’t force you into this car. Alright?”

She bit on her nails, looking away. They didn’t say anything more. He started taping his thumb again, which was driving her insane and he knew by the way her eyes closed and her breathing got heavier. She jumped on her seat, sitting straighter “Alright I’m sorry, you are a hero for driving me home, can you please stop doing that now?” She asked and he moved his one hand away from the wheel, rolling his eyes. He placed it on his thigh instead. “thanks!” she said in relief and sat back again. Silence followed for a few seconds. He doubted she was going to say anything until-

“He didn’t fire me.” She whispered

He was surprised at her reply. His gaze darted between her and the street. He processed her answer, thought about what to say back. “You wanna talk about it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She said, biting her thumb, watching as the raindrops found their way to each other on the window.

“try me.”

“I don’t want to.” She answered quickly. “What do you care, anyway? I’m a bitch, right?”

He laughed, he didn’t want to but he couldn’t help it “is this what this is about?”

“You’re not as important to me. Believe it or not, I don’t care about what you think of me.”

“Good cause I’d have to feel really bad if you did.”

She looked at him “what did you say to me during the interviews?” she asked and he held back his own breath. He didn’t want to tell her.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I heard the word sexy, I’m not deaf. And there’s a line Kylian, alright? Those sort of comments go passed it. I won’t have any of it.”

He bit his lips together, so he wouldn’t smile. Didn’t say anything back. They reached her house a few minutes later. He stopped on the sidewalk across from it. She started picking up all her stuff, getting ready to leave.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult.” He suddenly said, making her look at him puzzled. For some reason he was tempted to pick on the strand of hair that was stuck on her lips. Push it behind her ear. He licked his lips while she stared at him “It was a bad joke about you in the uniform.” He explained. Her expression was confusing to him, he couldn’t understand if she was intrigued or annoyed or both.

“Well, don’t let it happen again.” She maneuvered her body to open the door but her grabbed her arm instantly, making her turn to him again, whispering a ‘wait’. And she waited, expecting him to say something, follow with an apology or something. He realized that if he wanted her to open up to him, he had to do so first. He looked away, he didn’t want to be able to see her while he spoke. So he kept his focus on a dumpster across from them.

“You were right.” He said. He was really struggling, closing his eyes and flinching just by the thought that he was answering her questions “About my 100% and my personal life affecting the way I play. I’m trying to work through it. It’s been bugging me ever since Qatar.” He said all that in one breath, part of him hoping she hadn’t even heard it. He had to look at her to make sure she had because she wasn’t saying anything back. He was met with an unfamiliar expression. Her eyebrows were downward, like she was going to start crying. He narrowed his eyes, afraid that she actually would “did you hear me?”

She tensed, like she had woken up from a trance “yeah, yeah. Sorry. Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re not gonna say anything? Not one of your advices or something?”

“I…” her voice trailed off. She coughed, it was a fake a cough, he could tell. She rubbed her forehead nervously “sorry. I’m out of advices for today.” She mumbled, letting out a deep breath. He unbuttoned his seatbelt to move closer to her, shifting his body so it would be facing her. He didn’t understand how close he had gotten until she raised her head to look at him, her hair almost brushing his nose. Their eyes locking together in the silence.

“You’re gonna tell me what’s going on?” his voice was barely audible. It was more of a breath. Her eyes made him believe she would, that she’d admit to him the whole truth, whatever the truth was. The temptation of touching her returned, maybe that would convince her. He followed her gaze as it moved around, studying all of his face.

“I think you were right too” she said, sorrow growing in her eyes.

“About what?” he asked, frowning.

“Me.” She said it like it was a dirty word. He wanted to know more. He was trying to focus on just one thing but the proximity was starting to dawn on him, just as the vulnerability of the situation. Too close, way too close, he thought. She moved slightly away, tilting her head and he would have held her face, make her look at him if they weren’t both startled by a knock on her window, making them both look behind her.

It was a woman, tall, black long hair, blue eyes, holding an umbrella. His mouth opened slowly “please god tell me that’s not Luna.” He mumbled.

“Trish?” She gasped and got out of the car, the sound of the rain getting louder as she opened the door. The two woman hugged and let out gasps and cries while the rain was washing them both.

“What the ‘ell are you doing here?”

“Wanted to surprise you girl!”

“is every one ok? Is dad ok?”

“He’s fine!”

He watched at them, confused to say the least.

“I can’t believe you’re here-“

“Hey, pardon-“ he tried to get their attention. The tall woman, Trish, looked at him, her eyes widening. “Hi-“ he said but the woman looked directly back at her friend.

“Babe” she said “there’s a hot guy inside that car.”

He smiled wide, laughing, biting his tongue and leaning back on his chair. He could just imagine Taylor’s face by now, throwing daggers at her friend.

“Hey cutie, come help with my bags-“

“TRISH! NO!” tried taylor. But Kylian wasn’t about to let go of this opportunity. He came out of the car, pulling up the hoodie of his jacket to cover his hair from the rain. Trish moved closer to him, keeping her hand out for him.

“Well, hey you.” She smirked “didn’t tell me Kylian Mbappe was driving you around town, taylor.”

“It’s a one time thing.”

“Hm. That’s what they all say” she said to taylor “I’m Trish by the way, a pleasure to meet you.”

Kylian smiled, brought her hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss. He caught Taylor making a vomiting face in the back, that made him smile more as he let go of Trish’s hand. “J’enchante.”

“Ah he’s french.” She gasped, practically looking at him with heart eyes.

“And I am getting wet, if anyone cares” taylor said, moving to the entrance of her house so she’d be covered by rain. Kylian was enjoying this more than he should.

“Is she always this grumpy?” he asked

“You get used to it” Trish smiled and walked with him towards Taylor. Who was struggling to keep all her folders and bags in balance “you don’t mind carrying the bags upstairs do you?” she asked in a singing tone. He could already tell she was the fun one of the two.

“why did you bring two bags? There’s no way Miranda gave you more than two days off.”

“Well what if I meet the love of my life and decide to move here, I had to be prepared.” She winked at Kylian “chances are already very high of that happening.” He laughed awkwardly. She was a flirt, a really good one. He ducked down and grabbed her bags, waiting for taylor to open the door. She had this look on her face, like she hated every minute of this. “Oh, come on taylor” her hands stroked his shoulders as she leaned closer to him “let the man in the building. Don’t tell me a guy like this, hasn’t already seen the inside of your apartment-“

“You are on a time out from on!” taylor cut her off, pointing at her with her keys “and you stop laughing. She’s clearly jet lagged or something.” She turned around and unlocked the door of the building. They walked up the stairs to the second floor and she opened that her apartment’s door. She held it open for both of them, letting Kylian in first.

The house was smaller than his living room and it was messy. It was like a studio, Brown warm colors on the wall, a bed for two, a small desk across from it, the smallest kitchen behind the desk and a separate small room which he could guess was the bathroom. It felt cozy.

Kylian left the bags down on a corner and Trish was next to him moments later thanking him “You’re a true hero. I have to say I’m a huge fan.”

“She’s never watched football in her life.”

“That’s not true” Trish complained “you’ve forced me to watch it repeatedly for your stupid articles-“ Taylor’s eyes widened, she put herself between Trish and Kylian pushing her friend back “have to say she’s very unfair with you-“

“I’m just the analyst.” taylor said, topping her friend’s voice. “JW writes the articles”

“Have you met JW, Trish?” Kylian asked, slipping his hands in his pocket.

Trish paused for the first time since he saw her. Smiling slightly “hadn’t had the pleasure. But he doesn’t sound like a very fun guy does he?” taylor elbowed her, making her groan.

“Don’t you have to go Kylian? We wouldn’t want to hold you here.” She started pushing him out of the door, forcing him to leave. He held on the door frame before she could close it on his face

“You know I was thinking I could drive you to practice tomorrow morning. We could start going together, I mean I pass by your house any way.”

“That’s a yes from me!” Trish said, raising her hand.

“He wasn’t asking you.” Taylor snapped. Looking at her friend and then back at Kylian “That’s nice of you but it’s not necessary. Driving for free with a millionaire while I could be helping the poor uber drivers of Paris-“

“be serious” he said, cutting her off. “It will save you money and time.”

“You know I really need to find my cat, I think she locked herself in the bathroom again so I’ll text you alright? Bye!” she shut the door on his face, leaving him alone on the other side. He smiled. He was so close to getting what he wanted out of her, he wasn’t going to give up now.

Trish walked over to the window, peaking through the curtain at the rain and the street and him. Kylian was walking to his car when his eyes searched the window. She waved her fingers at him playfully, smiling. He nodded and got in his car. That’s when Trish looked at her friend who was just coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water.

“Why haven’t you told him the truth yet?”

“No one knows. They still think I’m just an assistant.”

“Very convenient for you.”

“it’s not actually.” She raised the glass to her lips

“Do you have this sexual tension with all the players?”

She choked on the water, coughing and tilting her entire body. Trish moved closer, patting her on the back. “You can’t just say shit like that-“

“Sorry!” Trish laughed while her friend was regaining her composure when she stopped coughing and practically dying Taylor let down her glass and wrapped her arms around Trish.

“I missed you.” she said in her shoulder.

“Me too angel! Me too! Tell me all about the hot guys now.”

It was 3am and they were still awake. Well, Trish was half asleep under the covers, answering with mumbles mostly for the last few minutes while Taylor was rambling away about all her adventures ever since she got to Paris.

“Stop staring at that thing it will drive you insane.” Trish said. Taylor had been looking at her phone for a while now. Considering if she should text Kylian or not. “Just text him”

“What if he has malicious intends?”

“If his malicious intend is getting you laid then I’m all for it” she said in the pillow. Taylor pushed her.

“Enough with that. Me and him is never happening! Not with any of the players, I’m gonna be their coach.”

“Ah.” she sighed “love and hate such a thin line between the two, until there isn’t one at all.” With that she started falling in deep sleep.

Taylor continued looking at her screen, opening the messages app and clicking on his name. She bit her tongue, thinking about the worst-case scenario. Why was he so changed all of a sudden? She’s wasn’t dumb. He clearly wanted something. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer right?

Can you come by at 8?

She didn’t move her eyes from the screen, waiting for him to see the message. He did, just seconds later and then the bubbles appeared.

Your Uber drive has been confirmed for 8.

She laughed. God, he was such a dork when he wanted to. She closed the phone and left it on her night stand. Falling asleep next to her best friend.

TAYLOR’S STREET – THE NEXT DAY

“Your friend not coming?” asked Kylian while she opened the door to get in his car.

“She’s coming at the gathering after the game.” She sat down buckling her seatbelt “She was good for your pride, wasn’t she?”

“I mean. It was a breath of fresh air from your constant looks of disapproval.”

She laughed “I’ll let you enjoy it for as long as she’s here then.” She told him and he started the car.

TRAINING CAMPUS – OUTSIDE AREA

“you’re driving her to campus now?” asked Verratti, while he and Kylian were jogging on the pitch. Hakimi was running behind them half listening to what they were saying.

“it’s just part of the plan.” Kylian reassured him. Hakimi looked at his best friend, shaking his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her during the gathering after the game tomorrow. I have a good feeling about it” he smiled.

“I have a feeling you two will be getting your ass kicked soon, and I’ll watch.” Said Hakimi and ran passed them both. Kylian searched for her, finding her sitting with Galtier in one of the benches, showing him a document. He was nodding in agreement before his eyes looked up and landed on him. That’s how they knew, they were talking about him.

STATE DE LA ROUTE DE LORIENT – NIGHT

It had already started raining. At first it was slight drops and everone hoped it’d finish before the game. The true storm was happening inside the locker rooms. Kylian was throwing a tantrum after being told that he’d be benched for the first half of the game. They were fighting with Galtier but it wasn’t like he’d be changing his mind.

When he met Taylor in the hall, he didn’t even look at her. He knew that she had been a part of this choice somehow. He was scared of what would come out of his mouth if he said anything at all. So, he sat behind the benches while she was sitting next to Galtier and her friend Trish.

“You think you can stay calm today?” Asked Galtier.

“Of course!” she smiled “it was just the first match excitement. I promise I’ll be chill.” She clicked her fingers today, trying to look cool.

20 minutes in the game and she had picked a fight with one of the players that were benched on the other time. She was loud, sometimes screaming. No matter her attempts to stay ‘chill’ she couldn’t hide the force of a nature that was coming out of her every time she thought the team was slow or the referees were biased. One of the players from the other team saw it too, he was laughing at her, mocking her along with his friend. Kylian knew the man was done for when she noticed it.

“What are you laughing for?” she yelled. It was the first time Trish looked up from her phone from the entire match. Kylian was watching everything unfold before his eyes. The man on the opposite team laughed at her reaction. Boy, was he about to get a beating.

“Is one off them your boyfriend?” he asked, making it sound like an insult. Kylian wanted to laugh, finally this was getting interesting for him. Trish got up, holding her friend’s shoulder like she knew what was about to follow. She whispered something in Taylor’s ear and taylor made a step back, returning her gaze at the game. Kylian thought that was gonna be it until the last minutes of the first half. The guy had gotten up now, eying her in an inappropriate way. Taylor was getting annoyed, he knew because she kept doing that thing with her fingers, tapping her nails on her thumb repeatedly. She was a time bomb.

“Hey you!” the man said and Kylian bent his body forward, listening or maybe preparing to jump in in case of a crisis. Taylor turned to look at him, it was a deadly stare. “You’re too loud for a woman. Footballs for boys-“

Kylian had jumped of his seat before the guy even finished the sentence. So had taylor who paced towards the guy, holding her head high and yelling in his face “You did you just say to me?” she asked. Kylian stood in front of her moving his body so she wouldn’t be able to go any further.

“Sit down Taylor!” he ordered. The deadly stare was now on him, she was gonna take it on to him.

“I’m not a fucking dog Kylian-“ she yelled. The man laughed louder, like he was enjoying this like he actually wanted her to attack him. Taylor tried to step forward, pointing at the guy “You wanna see how loud I can get?”

His teammates were now pushing back their friend so he wouldn’t go any farther with this. Kylian tried to hold her hand and pull it down but she slapped his away. “don’t fucking touch me!” Kylian wasn’t afraid of her warning, he seized her shoulders, forcing her to turn the other way and pushing her away. She tried to turn back but his grip on her shoulders would get tighter and force her to keep moving.

“You’re on the fucking screens!” he told her and when they were in front of her bench, he sat her down. She crossed her arms, dicing deep into her long and puffy jacket. Puffing the loose strands of hair away from her face. He looked at her, hands on hips like he was about to reprehend her for what she did but he didn’t say anything. Galtier walked up to him, patting him on the shoulder

“You’re in in 5” he said. Kylian nodded and looked at Taylor.

“Try not to make a scene while I’m away.” He warned, unzipping his jacket and taking off his scarfs and cap.

Trish came and sat next to taylor. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“No.” she answered coldly.

Kylian kept an eye on her from the field. She had gone awfully silent. The game was lost, psg lost. Everyone was angry and disappointed. He saw her sitting on the bench still, same way he had left her. Had she actually listened to him?

“Kylian!”

He turned around at the sound of his name. A wide smile spread on his lips when he saw who it “BELLINGHAM! AH!” The two men grasped each other’s hands in a clap and bumping their shoulders together. “How you doing men?”

“Good, mate!”

“What are you doing in Paris?”

“My mom wanted vacation. I wanted to find someone.”

“In Paris?”

“Her name is TJ, apparently she’s on your crew now.”

Kylian was lost “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“It’s TJ Wilock.”

He froze. “You mean taylor?”

“Yes.”

He crossed his arms “how do you know her?” he asked

“She was on the under 8 team in Birmingham city. Lost touch after she was picked out by Chelsea.”

“Chelsea?” Kylian repeated in disbelief. He laughed; it was a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, she was the best they had in woman’s team. Almost joined national as well-“

He couldn’t believe his ears, he thought someone was pranking him and he kept looking around for the cameras.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I… she doesn’t like to brag I guess.”

“Doesn’t sound like her.” Jude joked. Kylian pretended to be laughing as well. He wanted to punch something. “It’s a shame what happened to her.

Kylan raised his eyebrows. Oh, he really wanted to know more and he did, he learnt anything he could to find out.

She had seen him. It was one of the reasons she stopped reacting. When she saw Jude in the crowd, she knew she could get in trouble. She hadn’t met Jude in years, unlike her he had managed to build a huge career in football, loved by most and his performance in the world cup had made him the favorite new star. If the situations were any different, she would have gone and talked to him. Now she was trying to hide.

“Maybe he didn’t even see me. Why would he?”

“Your face was on the screens” Trish reminded her.

A few moments later Jude had come to say hi and while they were talking about old times Kylian was staring and she knew she was in trouble.

“I saw you on tiktok” he said “fighting that referee. It went viral.”

“Don’t remind me.” She groaned

“Still as badass as you were.” He joked.

“Always.” She smiled.

AFTER GAME GATHERING VENUE – NIGHT

She sat by the bar, keeping her distance from everyone. A glass of red wine in her hand. Everyone else was trying to forget about the game, she was already writing in her mind about how much of a shit show it was and how she still hadn’t proven to Galtier her presence made any real difference.

“Hold that any tighter and you’ll break it.”

She looked to her right and saw Kylian, leaning back on the bar like she was, a bottle of beer in his hand. “Your friend seemed to have fun during the game.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Oh no, I mean the other one. Jude.”

She didn’t look at him. She had known this was coming sooner or later.

“Chelsea, hm?” he asked. She didn’t react “So just to be clear, when you said I was right about you, you meant that you were a bitch or a liar?”

She actually feared that she’d break the glass so she left it on the counter. She wasn’t going to stay around for this, at the end of the day she didn’t really owe him anything. She turned around to leave. Little did she know he was going to follow right back at her.

He caught her on the narrow hallways of the venue that led to the bathrooms, reaching for her arm. She tried to shake him off but he stepped in front of her and trapped her between himself and the wall-

“How can you do this to them?” he asked. How much did he know? “Ever since you’ve come here you’ve lied to their face, to all of us, climbing up the top like a spider-“

“Back of Kylian!”

“You pretend to be their friend while you feed your boss with information about us to write articles like the one he did on Ney.” So, he didn’t know everything yet “and you don’t even have the decency to be honest with them about who you are.”

“My past career is none of your business.”

“It is! when you’re not open about what you’re really here to do because you are clearly not just a journalist.” He stepped closer, she didn’t know how that was possible. She could feel his heartbeat on her skin. She placed her hands on his chest to push him away but he grabbed her palms, pushing her hands downwards. “You think I don’t know you were part of the reason I was benched today?”

“His next article is about you, you know?” she said, almost spitting the words at him. She wasn’t going to be intimated by him, she’d play along “just how broken is the golden boy of France? Perhaps a talent going to waste far too soon-“

“I trusted you- “

“No, you didn’t. you were trying to get close to me and for fuck’s shake you almost succeeded but I’m not an idiot”

“Really?” he looked down at her face, his whisper warming her cheeks whether she liked it or not. Another step forwards and now there was no distance between them “not even a little?”

“You’re fucking delusional.” She stared in his eyes, keep her expression blank “I’m not the one peaking in bathrooms.”

He was baffled for 2 seconds at most because afterwards he started laughing. He didn’t move though, he stayed as close as he was. Biting his tongue “gonna tell him about that as well?” he asked, his face moving closer to hers.

“You’re disgusting, get out of my face-“ she said but she didn’t try to move away. It was like he had put a spell on her, tied her where she was. Suddenly all she could think was his bare chest, his smile, the way he celebrated on the field. Love and hate, such a thin line between them until there isn’t one at all.

“Need I remind you; you were the one on the men’s lockers room the first day you got here.” That reminded her how great that slap had felt on the first day. She slipped her hand away from his to do it again, just as he deserved but he saw it this time and he caught it. Holding her wrists tightly in his hand

“Told you, you’d be in real trouble if you tried this again.” He growled, his voice coming out so raspy, so threatening. She wasn’t sure if it was his heartbeat or hers that she was listening to. She didn’t know if he was the one leaning on her or other way around and she certainly didn’t know why she hadn’t left. She looked at his lips while he spoke, told herself it was because his eyes were too dark. He got even closer, his finger tying around her wrist, pulling her hand down again. She could already imagine what his lips tasted like by the smell of alcohol. She could almost feel it and she almost wanted it. So close.

“Kylian!” A rough voice called from the end of the hallway. Marquinhos.

She almost had it.

FOR STARTERS,,, there is more Jude coming. I just couldn't add it in this chapter. He will be everyone's comfort character because we need it. PLS DO NOT ATTACK ME FOR RHIS ENDING. If you are smelling smoke it's the heat from the next chapter 👀👀👀 bc you know things are obviously getting heated And you haven't seen ANYTHING YET!! Very excited for you to read it 🥹 also clues are piling up. You think Kylian will be figuring out about Taylor soon? 👀

Next chapter »

[lesbianrobin]

family friend

2,051 words

eddie has a new neighbor. his new neighbor has an unusual visitor.

Eddie's gotta figure out how to get away with murdering Steve Harrington.

Steve was a douche in high school, sure, but nothing crazy. He was just standard ignorant jock douchey, not, like, hauling slurs at everyone and beating on his girlfriend douchey, which is why Eddie almost couldn't believe what he was seeing at first.

The Mayfields moved in across the way, and Eddie saw Steve carrying boxes. A bit weird to see Steve Harrington in the trailer park, sure, but maybe the mom paid him twenty bucks or something to help with moving. Not a huge deal. Then Eddie saw Steve Harrington pull up outside that same trailer in his BMW the very next night, around one in the morning. The little redheaded freshman girl came out of her place carrying a backpack and got into the car, and before Eddie could blink Steve was driving off, and Eddie felt like he might throw up.

Sure, technically it's none of his business, but Jesus fuckin' Christ, the girl can't be any more than fifteen at the oldest, and that’s if he’s being generous. He’s almost sure she’s fourteen. Steve's a grown-ass man, so Eddie would probably be well within his rights to call the cops, but what the hell would he say? Officer, I saw them talking. He gave her a ride. The hell kind of evidence is that? Besides, the cops don't give a shit about anything that happens on this side of town, and they sure as hell don’t give a shit about anything that Eddie Munson has to say. Eddie's gonna have to figure something else out.

Three months later, and he’s still drawing a blank. It's not that he's scared of Harrington, he's just being… pragmatic. Wise. Other things that aren't just being a cowardly little wimp. Harrington doesn't come by every night, sometimes he'll even go a week without visiting, but every time Eddie thinks that maybe he's finally decided to leave this poor girl alone, he comes back. Always at night. Well, probably. Eddie's obviously not just staking out this random girl's house all day. Because that would be weird. So for all he knows, Harrington could be coming by sometimes at noon, but Eddie's only noticed it at night, and the girl always comes outside to his car, Harrington never going in, and one time Eddie sees Harrington tug on her braid when she gets into the passenger seat and the kid smiles at him, and Eddie wonders if she knows how wrong this is or if she's just happy to have somebody giving her attention. Too many girls around Hawkins are like that, convinced that even the smallest scrap of affection means they're loved, and maybe it's a bit hypocritical of Eddie to say that because he's so desperate for love and respect that he devotes almost all of his time to making sure a bunch of teenage nerds think he's cool, and maybe if a grown-ass man had shown him a little attention when he was fourteen he'd have fallen into that exact same trap, but Wayne wouldn't have let it happen, and Eddie finds himself hating that poor single mother across the road a little bit even though he knows it's not fair.

Harrington may be a creep, but he's smarter than Eddie would have expected. He never does anything untoward in public, nothing that could give Eddie an excuse to get involved. What the hell is he supposed to do? Threaten Steve Harrington and get his ass kicked? Try to hit Steve Harrington, get his ass kicked, and get arrested for assault? Tell the girl’s mother and get chewed out for spying on them all the time? So Eddie watches. He just watches like a total piece of shit. Harrington’s the only man he ever sees at the trailer, which isn’t surprising. The kid’s mom seems to work too much to have time for dating. Eddie saw Lucas Sinclair once or twice, right around when they first moved in, but he hasn’t been by in a couple of months, and he hasn’t brought it up with Sinclair because how the hell is he supposed to even start that conversation? Any time he considers telling somebody about the Harrington situation, he starts planning what he’ll say, how the conversation will go, and it always ends with somebody wondering why the hell he’s paying so much attention to the little girl across the street and turning Eddie in to the cops, who already hate him and want any excuse to lock his ass up and search the trailer. Besides, Sinclair may not worship the guy like Henderson does, but he still seems to think he's pretty great, so he probably wouldn't be receptive.

One Sunday afternoon, Eddie’s eating cereal and watching TV when he hears a car pulling up outside. The engine's way too smooth to belong to anybody in Forest Hills, so Eddie stands to peek out the window.

Harrington’s BMW comes to a stop so hard that Eddie can hear the brakes squeal. He jumps out of the driver’s seat, leaving his car running, and takes the stairs two at a time, barging into the Mayfields’ trailer like he owns the place, and Eddie’s blood runs cold. Eddie's pretty sure the girl’s the only one home right now.

Steve Harrington gets into a lot of fights.

Eddie puts his cereal down on the coffee table and starts patting himself down. Shit, where’s his knife? In his jacket, probably, and his jacket’s in his room, and there’s no fucking way Eddie’s gonna take on Steve Harrington with his bare hands, so he runs through the trailer, hoping that he didn’t leave his jacket in the van, because the van’s locked right now and he can’t remember where he put his keys, and he keeps listening, waiting for a scream, but he doesn’t hear anything, which somehow makes him even more sick.

Finally, finally, he finds the jacket, finds his switchblade, and he glances quickly out the window on his way to the door—and pauses.

Harrington is carrying the Mayfield girl piggyback down the stairs. He says something, and she thumps his ear. Ow! he can see Harrington exclaim, but he doesn’t put her down, doesn’t retaliate in any way, and Eddie slips his knife into his pocket. He needs to hear what they’re saying.

The trash can’s only half full, but it’ll work.

Eddie tries his best to act nonchalant as he carries the too-light bag of trash outside, pretending like he doesn’t even notice Harrington and the girl are there.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harrington says, bending down so that the girl can open the passenger side door. “Here, careful…” He slowly lets her down, and Eddie sees that she’s balancing on one foot, holding the other one an inch or so off the ground. Harrington offers her a hand and she leans on his arm as she lowers herself into the car.

“I don’t need a hospital,” the girl says, “I just asked if you could take me to get an ankle brace, Mom,” and Harrington sighs.

He lowers his volume, but King Steve’s voice has always carried pretty well, so Eddie hears clear as day, “Look, I can cover the bill, alright? You know I can. Please don’t worry about it, Max, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Eddie can just barely hear what Max says next, but he’s pretty sure it’s sorry.

Harrington reaches down and tugs on her braid, a small, sad smile on his face, and he says, “Just be more careful next time, alright? Don’t try new tricks and shit without somebody around to make sure you don’t break your neck.”

They look at each other for a few moments, and the silence makes Eddie suddenly aware that he’s just been standing next to a trash can doing absolutely nothing. He lifts the lid and drops the bag in.

“Alright, your feet in okay?” Max nods. Harrington closes her door gently. He jogs around to the driver’s side, and that’s when he and Eddie lock eyes. Oh, shit.

Harrington gives him a polite smile, holding one hand up in a wave. “Hey,” he calls, and Eddie jumps. Harrington gestures toward the car. “Kid broke her ankle on her skateboard.”

“It’s not broken!”

Harrington rolls his eyes. “You’re not a doctor just because you can put band-aids on skinned knees,” he says as he opens the drivers’ side door, shooting a look back at Eddie like, Can you believe this kid? Harrington gets into the car and snaps his fingers, saying, “Hey, come on, seatbelt, asshole.”

Max Mayfield throws her head back and groans, but she puts on her seatbelt. Harrington buckles his own, waves at Eddie, and puts the car in drive. Eddie watches them drive off, standing next to the trash can, and it feels like his feet are stuck in place.

Eddie noticed a lot of things, keeping an eye out for Max like he was. He noticed Max spending hours at a time wiping out on her skateboard, over and over, skinning her knees and bruising her shins, until she nailed whatever trick she was trying to do. He noticed how many six- and twelve-packs her mother carried inside on a regular basis. He noticed how their TV and their lights often stayed on until the early hours of the morning. He noticed how Max always had dark circles under her eyes, how she never smiled, not really, always trudged to and from the school bus with her headphones on and her eyes to the ground. He noticed that Max sometimes smiled in the passenger seat of that BMW. He noticed that Harrington was the only man who ever came over to the trailer, but more than that, Eddie realizes, he was the only person.

When Eddie gets inside, his cereal is beyond soggy. He eats it anyway, gagging on every mouthful, and thank fuck he’s such a coward or he might have scared off the only person in a lonely girl’s life who’s actually looking out for her. Actually doing shit to help her, not just watching from across the street. Getting her away from her alcoholic mother, from her quiet, shitty trailer, and Eddie suddenly remembers how he heard Madonna playing from Harrington’s car radio one night, and at the time he thought it was disgusting, some old creep playing a little girl’s favorite music so she’d let her guard down, but now it makes his chest feel funny in a good way.

Shit, Henderson was right. How many kids has Steve Harrington adopted? Eddie’s always figured that Henderson worships the guy and Sinclair thinks he's cool because he’ll buy them beer or something, but he’d never quite bought his own theory, because Henderson doesn’t seem like the type. This makes more sense. Dustin’s mom is a little… uh… much, Sinclair had said one time when Dustin left Hellfire early. She might, like, actually have a heart attack and die if he’s home late again. Henderson lives alone with his mom, too, no brothers or sisters and no dad in the picture, and Eddie’s never claimed to be bright but he’s not too bad at recognizing patterns. So, Steve Harrington: not a creep, probably. That’s good to know. Eddie’s not gonna let up on Henderson, obviously, because Harrington’s still a stupid asshole jock, but it’s nice to know his little buddies aren’t hanging with a perv.

Three hours later, Eddie hears the BMW again. He watches through the window as Harrington opens Max’s door for her and helps her up the stairs on her new clunky boot. They're chatting about something, taking turns rolling their eyes and laughing on their way inside. Harrington seems to stay inside the trailer until Max’s mom gets home that night, and when she does Steve meets her on the porch. They go inside together for a bit. When they reemerge, Harrington hugs her, and Eddie thinks he might see a tear or two from Max’s mother, and then he looks away, busies himself with his third attempt at slogging through The Scarlet Letter because it's none of his business.

Steve fuckin' Harrington. God, Hawkins never stops getting weirder.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 16th: Library | Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation | Curious a/n: little Eddie & Wayne, ADHD!Eddie, pre-canon Eddie & Jonathan friendship. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | ao3 masterpost here

All his life, all seven years of it so far, Eddie has been told to be quiet, to sit still, and to not touch things. He can’t help it most of the time– there are so many things to explore, and learn, and find, so many different textures to feel. Eddie learns best when he’s able to physically hold something in hands to help him focus and it’s gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. 

But living with Wayne, at least for the summer, he’s been given more opportunities than ever before to lean into his curious nature without being scolded. They’ve gone to museums, petting zoos, science centers, even the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Each new experience is a novelty and Eddie’s loved every single one of them. Today though, Eddie’s nervous. 

“You almost ready, kid?” Wayne pokes his head into Eddie’s bedroom, warm smile and a cocked eyebrow. Eddie’s been taking his time, untying and retying his shoelaces over and over to stall. 

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m ready.” Eddie offers a tight smile, one that feels faux even to him. 

“Do you not wanna go? We can try something else if the library isn’t your thing.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I wanna go! It’s just…”

Wayne enters the room fully, sitting down on the bed next to Eddie who fidgets with his fingers and looks down at the floor, his feet swaying back and forth over the edge of the bed.

“Just what?” He doesn’t touch him, but Wayne’s presence alone is comforting enough. 

“What if I get in trouble? Aren’t you supposed to be super quiet and stuff in libraries?” 

Eddie knows Wayne well enough by now to know that he’d never get in trouble that way that he has with his dad, but he doesn’t want to disappoint or embarrass Wayne, either. 

“Well, yeah, on the grown up floor for the cranky old guys like me,” Wayne bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, and Eddie can’t help but smile– real this time. “But there’s a whole children’s room that has games, lots of books, fun stuff. And if it feels like too much, you just give me our little signal and we’re outta there.” 

When Eddie first started going places with Wayne, they’d developed their secret signal that probably wasn't too secret but worked just the same– Eddie would stand next to Wayne and step on his foot. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough that Wayne would notice, look down, and see Eddie’s overwhelm. And like promised, they’re outta there. No questions asked. 

“Okay, I think I’m ready then.” Eddie stands up and heads toward the front of the trailer. “Let’s go.” 

They’re at the library for all of a few minutes, Eddie hesitant to leave Wayne’s side as they scour the fantasy books, when he meets another kid around his age, maybe a little younger. Both boys go to reach for the same illustrated copy of a book about dragons. 

“Oh, sorry, you can take it,” Eddie offers, moving his hand instinctually. 

“No, no it’s okay, you were looking at it first. Go ahead.” The other boy responds, shrugging and looking back at the shelf. 

There’s a woman behind him, smiling down fondly as she speaks. “Sweetie, why don’t you share with your new friend?” 

“Yeah, if you wanna share, we could. Only if you want to though.” Eddie bounces on his heels, hopeful. He doesn’t get to make a lot of friends when he’s home with his parents. 

“Okay, yeah,” the little boy smiles carefully and pulls the book from the shelf. 

Eddie follows him to a small table at the end of the aisle and they pour over the pages, full of colorful illustrations and short stories. Eddie loses track of time, but he and his new friend, who he learns is named Jonathan, are just kids who don’t need to watch the clock. 

They finish the book and return for another, and then another. Eddie's disappointed when the day ends and they have to leave, but he sees Wayne trade contact information with Jonathan's mom, Joyce.

"We'll see you again next week, Eddie. It was so nice to meet you." Joyce smiles, sweet and comforting, and Eddie isn't so afraid of the library anymore.

[honeybadgerwritings]

would you be willing to write a little blurb w/ steve and eddie x orally fixated! reader? mayb reader has a wicked oral fixation and is always just innocently chewing/sucking on the boys? like absentmindedly pulling one of their hands to their face and slipping a few fingers in their mouth? the boys were a bit confused at first but as long as reader doesn't bite too hard they don't care very much. steve will scold them if he hasn't washed his hands before they do it lol. oh oh and maybe eddie thinks its kinda nice if he's been playing guitar all day? like soft warm mouth on his sore fingertips could feel good mayb? 🤷‍♀️

You better stop it before I combust…. I have such a bad oral fixation and this has me weak at the knees <3 <3 <3

This became a lot longer than I thought it would so I’m not even sure it counts as a blurb anymore…. But I say it is one cause I wrote it

Also I know it’s like 8 hours late cause I added soooo much more to it and then promptly fell asleep…no I don’t want to talk about it 😂😭

——————

You’d always been prone to things like lip biting, thumb sucking, and chewing on the caps/erasers of every writing utensil you’ve ever owned. Sometimes it’d help you feel less anxious, and sometimes you’d do it just to do it. Steve and Eddie would know of this, having witnessed it countless times over the years that they’ve known you.

They’d have learned to offer you a pen or a straw to chew on when they’d see you becoming nervous. But the older you became, the less those things would seem to satisfy you.

So imagine their surprise when you began to fulfill your needs in a…well, different sort of way.

It’d start out slow, maybe you’d be sitting on Eddie’s lap, his hand intertwined with yours, and the next thing you’d know, the cuff of his flannel would be pulled up to your lips, and you’d be suckling on it.

The two of them would share a look. Not in a weird way, in more of a ‘well this is new’ sort of way. They wouldn’t comment on it though, letting you have your fun.

It’d continue like that for a week or two, you constantly gnawing on the cuffs of their sleeves or the drawstrings of their coats while they’d allow it to happen, no questions asked. It isn’t until one night when you’re all watching movies in Eddie’s trailer that you’d decide you need more. It wouldn’t even be a conscious decision either.

You’d be pressed up against Steve’s side, gnawing on the fabric of his sleeve as your tired eyes focus on the movie. And then slowly, you’d maneuver his hand, gently wrapping your lips around his middle and index fingers. You didn’t even really notice that you’d done it, but Steve would realize what was happening right away.

He’d look down at you, bewildered, then up at Eddie, whose sitting on the other side of you, completely engrossed in the movie. Steve would reach over you and flick him with his free hand, silently gesturing in a way that says, “What the fuck do I do?”

The metalhead would lean forward to get a better look at you, seeming surprised at first before his face melts into one of amusement.

“Whatcha doin’ there sweets?”

And you’d just shrug, droopy eyes finally falling shut as you suck on Steve’s fingers. Eddie would smile in complete adoration before glancing up at Steve.

“I am so not stopping this,” he’d tease, leaning closer to wrap his arm around both of you.

Steve would flip him off, before glancing back down at you, eyes softening and heart fluttering in his chest as you relax against him, just suckling on his fingers. He’d pull you impossibly closer to him, relishing in just how sweet this moment with the three of you is. It’s then that he’d start to think: “Maybe I could get used to this.”

It’d become a normal thing after that. You, absentmindedly grabbing their hands to suck/gnaw on their fingers whenever you need to, and them, letting you out of pure adoration for how cute you are when doing it.

Although sometimes Steve would be a total hardass about it.

“Hey! No no no, absolutely not!” Steve would scold, causing you and Eddie to snap your heads in his direction.

Eddie would’ve just gotten home from work at the auto shop, and you had reached out for his hand. He wouldn’t have really been paying much attention, letting you pull it towards yourself, until Steve had so rudely interrupted.

“Why notttt?” You’d whine, still holding the ringed fingers inches away from your lips. Steve would gesture incredulously at Eddie’s hands, causing the metalhead to look down at them.

“Oh shit,” he breathes, “Yeah…maybe not right now honey.”

They’re covered in grease and dirt from working all day, and to be honest, neither of you had noticed.

You’d pout, crossing your arms as he’d pull his hand away. He’d chuckle at you fondly,“No need to pout darlin’, I’m just gonna go clean up.” He’d lean down, placing a kiss to your cheek and mumbling, “I bet if you ask Stevie reaaalll nicely, he’ll let you suck his fingers,” before winking at the other boy and sauntering away, leaving just you and Steve on opposite ends of the couch.

Steve definitely would’ve heard Eddie’s words, but would choose to pretend not to, wanting to tease you a bit.

“Stevie?” You’d ask quietly.

He’d bite the inside of his cheek, keeping his focus straight ahead on the television in front of him. He’d know that you’re looking at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes to ever exist, and a smirk would form on his lips when you’d start to whine. However, his resolve wouldn’t last more than 30 seconds.

“Pretty please Stevie?” You’d pout, leg bouncing in anticipation, and he’d let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” He’d look over at you in fake annoyance, before winking, “C’mere sweetheart.”

You’d giddily jump in his lap, curling up against him as he presses two of his fingers to your lips. You’d happily part them, closing your eyes as he presses the digits down lightly on your tongue.

“You’re needy, you know that?” He’d tease, and you’d just hum, already relaxing against his chest.

He’d never tell you, but he enjoys this almost as much as you do, if not just as much. You always look so pretty like this, relaxing in his arms while you suck on his fingers, and he loves nothing more than to take care of you.

He’d chuckle at you, resting his chin gently on top of your head, “Yeah yeah. My needy little baby.”

15 minutes later, Eddie would walk out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, to find the two of you just like that, asleep in each other’s arms.

While most of the time it’d be something you’d do out of your own free will, there would be a couple times where they’d even ask you to do it.

“Hey sweets?” You’d hear Eddie call throughout the trailer, humming in response, “Can you come here a minute?”

You’d skip into his room, where he’s hanging up his guitar. You’d been cleaning the trailer, listening to him practice for the last 2 hours or so, “What’s up Eds?”

He’d pat the spot next to him on the bed, a small smile spread across his pretty face, “Come sit.”

You’d oblige, watching him nervously as you do so. You wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from squeaking out a tiny, “I’m not in trouble am I?”

“No,” he’d chuckle, “No princess, you’re not in trouble. But I do need you to open up for me.” And you do without question, letting him slip his fingers into your mouth. “That’s it,” he’d praise you, “M’ fingers were starting to feel sore, and I just need your pretty little lips wrapped around them for a bit.”

You’d look up at him with wide bleary eyes, whimpering at the praise. He’d just coo at you, stroking your cheek with the thumb of his hand, and letting you curl up against his side, “Always feels so nice when you suck on them after I play baby.”

These are some of Eddie’s favorite moments with you, when the two of you would get to relax while he holds you in his arms. He’d feel you gently run your tongue along his fingers and sigh in relief.

“So good for me sweets.” He’d hum, and oh yeah, he would love this just as much as Steve does.

Sometimes though, you’d be so overwhelmed that you wouldn’t even know you’d need it, but that’s why you have your boys.

You’d gone with them to a Halloween party, sporting a cute little pirate outfit and feeling good about yourself. But two hours later, you’d be buzzed, lost in the crowd, and worst of all, you can’t find either of them.

You’d slowly but surely be pushing your way through everyone, mumbling choked out apologies as you try to find them. A group of juniors would cheer loudly next to you as one of them does a keg stand, and you’d whimper, covering your ears.

Once you finally push your way through the middle of the floor, it’s easy to spot Eddie, whose dressed as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, standing over in the corner chatting with a few other people. You’d stumble over to him, whimpering out a small, “Eds…” and tugging lightly on the hem of his tank top until he turns around.

He’d be excited to see you, “Hi baby! We were wondering where you went! I just sent Steve out to find you and-” It’s then that he’d register your teary eyes and the way you’re gnawing your bottom lip raw, and he’d bend down to your level, “Woah woah woah, honey what happened?”

You wouldn’t even have a direct answer, first you’d gotten a little lost when going to get another drink, and then it was too loud, too crowded, and you had no idea where anyone was. It’d all come out in a mix of babbled words and sniffles, and Eddie’d be quick to wrap an arm around you leading you towards the exit.

Halfway through the door he’d spot Zombie clad Steve in the crowd, and he’d whistle, getting his attention, before leading you out onto the lawn and towards his van.

Steve would catch up with the two of you in time to pull the back door open, helping you inside.

Neither would be even close to drunk, their tolerance for alcohol being built up over the years, so it’d be easy to maneuver you in between them. You’d end up in Steve’s lap, back to his chest with his arms around your waist, while Eddie’d kneel in front of you, cradling your face.

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Steve would murmur into your ear. You’d furrow your brows in confusion, “Stevie?” You’d ask, wondering when he’d gotten there. It’s not your fault though, you really are feeling out of it.

They’d both chuckle, “Yeah baby, I’m here, Stevie’s right here,” he’d respond, squeezing you tight.

Eddie would notice you gnawing on your bottom lip again, and he’d gently tug it away with his thumb, eliciting a whine from you.

He would shake his head, “No sweetheart, you’re hurting yourself…here.” He’d gently slip his thumb through your parted lips, and you’d react instantly, sucking on it.

Your breathing would slow, rigid body going lax against Steve, and your eyes would droop, causing the boys to make eye contact. They’d smile at each other as they realize this is what you needed all along.

“There we go honey…that’s it, just relax.” Steve would coo, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face.

“See? You’re alright precious.” Eddie’d praise you, “I know, it got a bit scary in there, but you’re okay. You just needed a little help didn’t you?”

You’d nod slightly, sighing in content through your nose, and Steve would chuckle,

“That’s what we’re here for baby. We’ll always help you.”