#she looks like a muppet here

[scatterbrainedbot]

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH ZACH I CANT EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE (no cause the way I ran to my friends to show them these and proceeded to curl up on the floor while they laughed. IM INSANE OVER THEM QwQ <33333)

THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN, RAHHHHH

just doin' my job, ma'am

[insanityislife101]

So, I decided to redesign the FNAF 2 puppet to fit the Daycare from Security Breach. Essentially, she’s used in a game that is played in the thirty minutes before naptime. She also lives in a literal tower because why not.

[waterinathermostat]

Guys I fucking hate my roommates so much I can’t take it anymore

[lovebugism]

hello sweetheart, i read your prompt list and saw this one "hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway and my heart melted, i don't know if you already did this, but can we have something like that with our sweet but grumpy eddie? 🤍

ty for requesting! — eddie doesn't know why you're avoiding him (fluff, ditzy!reader, 0.9k)

Eddie lost sight of you ten minutes ago. 

You were squished between Robin and Steve on the loveseat last he saw you, giggling into your solo cup while they belted Total Eclipse of the Heart to you — at you — over the music and in their best Muppet impressions. 

He only remembers it so vividly ‘cause he was jealous. Not jealous because you were subjected to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’s drunken antics, of course, but jealous because you were with them. And so, so far away. 

Now you’re gone, and he misses you like a stray dog — aggressive and hungry and hurt. He walks up to Steve in the kitchen just the same. Hair wild. Button eyes glittering. Slightly reluctant. 

“Where’d she go?!” he shouts over the music, half-muffled into his drink. He uses the plastic cup like a shield ‘cause he doesn’t want people to know he’s missing you. The metalhead freak from the wrong side of town isn’t supposed to need the ball of sunshine from the suburbs. 

But alas.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Steve slurs, half-distracted as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t need Eddie to tell him who she is. There’s only one person in the whole world he’d go looking for. “She went outside with Robin, I think—”

Eddie spins on the worn heel of his sneaker before the words can properly leave his mouth. He ducks through the bustling, drunken crowd and finds you sitting lonesome on the porch outside. Prettier than the full moon and all the stars in the velvet black sky combined. 

He walks to stand beside you, shoes thunking heavy on the wooden deck. You tilt your chin to smile brightly up at him while he slips a cig into his mouth. He cups the stick as he lights it. Pretends that’s what he came out here for. Not to see you, of course. 

Definitely not.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he mumbles beneath the cigarette in his mouth.

“Robin just left,” you answer plainly, half-shy.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks with an air of nonchalance, still trying to play it cool. ‘Cause there’s nothing less metal than yearning.

You shrug. “‘Cause you were busy?”

It’s easier than telling him that you thought he wanted the space. Or that you actually spent the whole night aching to hang on his side — too scared of embarrassing him in front of all his friends to act on it. 

You know who you are just like you know who he is. Bubblegum pink doesn’t always go well with black. It gets in your hair. Makes everything go all sticky. It’s an acquired taste you know Eddie’s still getting used to — too much of it, and his stomach will start to hurt. So you figure it’s best to keep your distance.

You just didn’t think he was as grieved by it all as you were.

Eddie scoffs. I’m never too busy for you, he wants to say. He might’ve if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows smoke from his lungs and jokes, “I wouldn’t call keeping Argyle from crowd-surfing in the living room busy, sweetheart.”

A laugh tumbles from his plush lips. The golden sound falls over your skin like stars. You smile absentmindedly back at him as you rise from the creaking rocking chair. You plant your feet ahead of his and smooth your palms beneath his leather jacket, over his warm sides.

Eddie meets your twinkling eyes with narrowed chocolate ones. “What?”

“Hug?” you ask in a mousy voice.

The boy laughs like he’s too cool for affection, though he’d be lying if he said your offer doesn’t have his chest sparkling something fierce. He flicks the cig to the ground — sheepish gaze going with it — before snuffing it out beneath his sneaker.

“Clingy much?” he scoffs.

You nod with a proud smile. 

Eddie’s chest swirls with an unfamiliar feeling. You’re strangely brave about all this — affection and love and all things sweet enough to make him gag. 

It makes him feel like he can feel brave, too.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you with all the intensity of someone wanting to swallow you whole. You hug him back just the same. “I missed you,” you murmur with your cheek squished against his chest.

“Then what’re you avoidin’ me for, huh?” he teases, chin bobbing against your head.

You pull slightly back to squint at him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’ve been hangin’ out with Steve and Robin the whole night,” he grieves, hiding his sincerity behind boyish theatrics. With a feigned pout that feels totally real, he says, “And you didn’t even sit next to me when we played Never Have I Ever.”

“I thought you wanted the space,” you confess in a hushed voice.

His face screws up like he’s tasted something sour. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “You always talk about how much you like being alone and stuff, so—”

“Well, yeah! I like my space— just not from you!”

It’s likely the least metal thing he’s ever said.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth contorting into a sheepish beam. “Well… Sorry.”

“Yeah. You should be,” he scoffs, mostly joking. He pouts softly and pulls you back into him again, nosing at your hair until his chapped lips brush your temple. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright?”

[landorris]

blue jeans | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; where lando norris and fernando alonso ask a random girl to play padel with them in max’s team

fc; ruby lyn

warnings; english is not my first language

taglist; @thef1diary @bigsimperika @shobaes @d3kstar @stinkyjax @the-untamed-soul @bibissparkles @judespoision

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, user1 and others

yourusername: went for a run ended up playing padel with strangers (lost the game bc my teammate was horrible at it)

yourfriend: pls tell me more about it

yourusername: on my way 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

user1: waiting for the vlog

yourusername: haven’t filmed one today 😕 but i promise next week you’ll have it🫡

user2: such a book thing

your phone and max’s phone

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and others

landonorris: max lost (again) we found y/n (again) and now we’re friends

yourusername: hey fwend👋🏽👋🏽

landonorris: hello muppet👋🏽

maxverstappen1: i let you won

yourusername: no you didn’t

user1: OMG Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user2: WAIT THAT CAPTION WAS ABOUT MAX?😭

user3: im lost, who’s y/n?

user4: she’s an youtuber/influencer, she posts vlogs and talks about health

user5: lando knows what we want to see

danielricciardo: poor little max verstappen embarrassed himself in front of ykw

user6: IT’S 100% Y/N

your phone

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourfriend and others

yourusername: these cars are really fast, isn’t it dangerous?

yourfriend: girl take me with you next time

yourusername: that’s not up to me

user1: i really love this y/n f1 crossover

user2: she went to the saudi arabia gp?!😫

maxverstappen: think i proved my point

yourusername: you did well ig🙄

user3: she’s so pretty

user4: one more post of them together and im gonna start screaming mom and dad

user5: @maxverstappen did you knew she has a cat?

your phone

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant and others

yourusername: milo has a new friend (still figuring out what to wear on this f1 thing

user1: don’t worry, youre serving

user2: vlog when

yourusername: i kinda made one in saudi but i don’t know if im going to post it

user2: do it rn!!!!

user3: mother

user4: that’s max’s hand, they’re so cat parents

logansargeant: you look cute

yourusername: thanks logan :)

user5: logan babe what are you doing here

user6: guys they want our gf

maxverstappen1: i miss the cat

yourusername: i see how it is

user7: parents😖😖😖

your phone and max’s phone

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said: Part 2

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: upon learning about your pregnancy simon thinks there are things he needs to take care of.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tw: Angst, fluff, hurt with a lot of comfort, banter. The task force is there for you💞 i think that's it✨

A/N: here it is, i never planned a second part so forgive me if it's not as good! Still hope you like it. Already working on a request that's similar to this one🐸✨ thank you so much for all the support. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome🩵

Masterlist✨ | Part 1 | Part 3

Simon pulls you closer to his body, one arm draped over your form and hand resting on your stomach. The storm is raging outside, the thunder startles you every five minutes. You stay there in complete silence as the realization of this whole thing settles in your minds. He wants you to be safe now more than ever that's why when he's reliving the events of the day it hits him. He had thought the worst, that you were abandoning him, that you got tired of him. Simon would never say this to you but losing you would be the end of him. Enraged and with his heart racing he had hopped on his motorcycle. The soft caressing of his fingers stops abruptly, body going rigid behind you. You turn your face in worry.

"Simon?" You call him. You were beginning to fall asleep. "What is it?"

"That fuckin' muppet." He snarls. "I was so caught up in you leaving that I'd forgotten he hit you. That cunt... fucking Christ." He sits. "Let me see." He lifts your shirt just above your belly with gentle hands.

"Love, I'm... it's fine." Simon sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes land on the bruised area of your skin.

"What did the doctor say?" He demands, eyes somber.

"She said i should stay in bed for a few days and to not lift heavy things or you know just... overwork myself."

Simon rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands, disgruntled.

"This is on me... my bloody fault"

"Hey, stop now." You stand up, coming to a sitting position to mirror his stance. "You didn't know." Soft hands fall on both sides of his face. "I should've told you before this happened, if anything this is on me."

"If something happened to you i would never forgive myself, kid. Lie down. You need to rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

-

Simon's been waiting for this day since the incident. You're still at home, recovering from what could've ended with you in a hospital bed and a broken heart.

"You sure about this, Sir?" Gaz asks, worried about what might happen. "It's just training right?"

"Just training." Simon's eyes are set on that bastard. Craning his neck he steps on the sparring mat. As much as he wanted to go find him and kill him he couldn't do such thing. But after the images that flooded his mind made him realize how dangerous it had been. What could potentially have happened the rage within him is boiling his blood. And now he needs somebody to pay the price. Choices have consequences and he nearly had a painful one. If he had insisted just more...

Breathing harshly he looks him in the eye. Poor muppet doesn't know what's coming for him. He stands there confidently, thinking he has a chance against Ghost. Not Simon, the man only she gets the chance to see.

This is Ghost about to fight.

-

For some reason you decided to stop by the local pastry shop and bring something for the task force. You're feeling much better so that's why you're walking down the corridor of the military compound. With a shirt that's nearly too oversized a pair of combat boots and a cap. You figured you could have these outside of the base and enjoy a nice day with your teammates. You missed them already. Since Simon had been reluctant to leave your side, and you loved it that's for sure, but he wouldn't let you do much as simple tasks like washing the dishes or doing the laundry.

Walking past the doors you're greeted with loud cheering and yelling at the two men in the middle of the mat. Your smile quivers until you process the scene in front of you. Not surprised, not worried. He's gonna be just fine. The other poor boy... Price is the first to notice you, approaching you in three long strides. He had decided to stop by and watch, that's how they sort things out.

"Here, let me help you with that." He takes most of the desserts from your hands, scrutinizing your features with slight concern. Your eyes glued to Simon's hulking body. "I'm gonna assume he doesn't know you're here. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm not on duty, Captain."

"I'm not asking as your Captain but as a friend."

You turn to face him with the ghost of a smile on your lips.

"I'm feeling better so I wanted to see you all, maybe we could have these together as soon as Simon is done with his personal grudge."

Price chuckles. Reluctant to see the rest of the fight, you keep talking to John until it comes to an end. More cheers and clapping echoing around the place. You take a quick glance and get a glimpse of the younger soldier limping while he plops down on a near bench, his teammates gathered around him holding a towel out for him to clean up his face. Footsteps approach you and Price, Simon's frowning behind the mask you can tell by the way the corner of his eyes wrinkle.

"Hey little lady!" Soap greets you with a big smile, hugging you tightly. "Heard you got all knocked up!"

"For fucks sake, Johnny!" Gaz scolds him. "Have some more respect for the girl."

Johnny rolls his eyes feigning annoyance letting Kyle hug you too.

"Don't bet mad at him. We all know why he had to do it." He whispers before pulling away.

When Simon joins you, you're aware of what's coming.

"You're out of bed." He points out, blankly.

"It's been almost a week. As long as I don't lift heavy things I'll be alright. Remember?" You speak back. You reach out for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. The rest of the team silently walks away to the outside giving you some privacy. Simon studies you, all of you. There's a spark of worry in his blue eyes that you don't like. "Don't worry about me anymore."

He pulls you closer, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he inhales deeply.

"Is that my shirt, doll?" He asks in a hushed tone. You chuckle, burying your face in his chest.

"I missed you, and it smells like you." Simon prompts you softly to start walking outside and join the rest. "You're not hurt, are you?" You stare up at him.

"Don't you worry about me, he wasn't able to land one single hit, love."

You pull him down kissing over the black balaclava where his lips would be.

"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not telling you Simon." You sigh.

"I understand now why you didn't, kid. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself for not making you feel safe enough to tell me. If anything I'm to blame."

"Is there any chance I may touch your belly?" Soap asks as soon as you sit down next to him.

"Yes." You reply with a wide smile.

"No." Simon growls at the same time.

"Jesus! I suppose that naming the child after me is also off the table?"

"Absolutely."

A round of laughs echoing around and along the backyard. Your eyes scanning every person gathered in this very moment. Loyalty, admiration, respect and love.

A family of your own that would soon get a new addition.

"What if it's a beautiful girl?" Gaz interrogates.

Everyone goes silent.

"Fucking hell." Simon whispers.

He's fucked.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm clearing out my draft folder again.

Steve and Robin were running through Starcourt, high as fuck when Steve skidded to a stop in front of Eddie Munson.

"You look like Eddie Munson," Steve giggled.

"Steve!" Robin said with wide eyes. "I think that is - "

"Man, what happened to your face?" Eddie asked.

"Funny story, can you keep a secret from Eddie?" Steve said seriously.

"Sure," Eddie grinned.

"No, Steve, that's - ,"

"ANYWAY," Steve rolled his eyes at Robin. "I had this crush on him in freshman year. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Uh - are you guys on drugs?" Eddie asked.

"YES! But we didn't want to," Robin said. "They wanted information."

"Aw, fuck, there's this guy that works with Rick. Real sketchy. I told him he needs to let him go before he gets Rick into trouble, but does Rick listen to me? Nah!" Eddie exclaimed. "Look, whatever the hell he gave you should wear off. Not all drug dealers are like that. What we pitch to you is what you get. What you want is what you get. Okay, let's get you guys to the bathroom and try to get it out of your system. Come on."

"I'm going to tell Eddie," Steve said with a grin. "Shh! Wait here. I'll tell you how it goes."

Steve ran off with Robin on his tail. Eddie cursed and chased after them. They got distracted by the lights hanging overhead and started spinning around, gazing at them in awe.

"You guys do not want to do that," Eddie said, and they started heaving before they ran off in the direction of the bathrooms. "And that's why."

He ran off after them and into the bathroom room, where they vomited into the toilets. Eddie knelt down next to him and stroked Steve’s hair as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once Steve was done, he leaned his head into Eddie's touch and closed his eyes, letting Eddie stroke his hair. He whined when Eddie moved away and saw him go to the sink. He came back with a wet, soapy paper towel and started cleaning Steve’s face.

"I guess I'm chopped liver," Robin said. "It's okay, I'll get it myself."

Steve laughed and made a face at the taste in his mouth. Eddie clapped a hand on his back.

"I'll be right back," Eddie said.

He rushed off to buy a couple of toothbrushes and toothpaste. He also picked up what he thought was lip balm. When he returned, he he heard them talking. They were clearly bonding, solidifying their working relationship into a friendship. Or maybe something more considering how Robin was talking about watching Steve. Shit, maybe Eddie should leave. They were talking about someone else now.

"But Tammy Thompson's a girl," Steve said.

"Yeah," Robin said.

"Oh."

Or maybe not. Oh God, Robin was coming out to Steve, and Eddie was overhearing it. Oh God, what should he do? He was frozen to the spot. Steve was going on about how Tammy Thompson was a total dud and how she sounded like a Muppet. Eddie snorted. Yeah, that was true.

"I can't believe you're making fun of my crush," Robin laughed. "What about yours?"

"Hey, at least Eddie can sing," Steve replied.

Fuck! Okay, so he had been telling the truth then.

"How do you know he can sing?" Robin asked.

"My car broke down near the Hideout one night, and I heard him singing. He was playing with his band, Corroded Coffin," Steve said. "They were really good. I was going to go talk to him, but I kind of thought that the drummer was his girlfriend, but that's crazy. I mean, guys and girls can just be friends, right?"

"I like to think so," Robin replied.

There was a long pause in their conversation, which gave Eddie plenty of opportunity to burst through the door.

"Okay, so I have a green toothbrush and a pink one," Eddie said. "Which one do you guys want?"

"Ooh, pink," Steve said and they stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Eddie said in amusement.

He watched as they brushed their teeth. Well, he mostly watched Steve.

"So, how much of our conversation did you hear?" Steve asked, setting his toothbrush on the sink.

"What? I didn't hear anything. Were you guys talking about something?" He asked.

"Seriously?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't hear anything that you guys didn't want me to hear," Eddie said.

"I don't think you're the kind of guy who would spill the beans on us," Robin said. "At least, I hope not so you don't have to deny anything."

"Ooh, lip gloss," Steve plucked it out of Eddie's hand. "May I?"

"Yeah, I thought it was lip balm," Eddie frowned. "So, have you always known that you liked guys?"

"Not just guys, girls too," Steve said as he started applying the lip gloss to his pouty lips. "I'm bisexual."

"Did you always know you were bisexual?" Eddie asked as he watched Steve’s lips intently.

"Well, yes and no," Steve said. "It was more like a slow build-up to my realization. Like more and more evidence started piling up that I could no longer deny."

"So, it wasn't like you looked at someone one day and realized 'shit, I'm into dudes, now?" Eddie asked as his eyes raked over the swell of his ass.

"It's always kind of been there. Why?" Steve asked as he closed the lip gloss.

"No reason," Eddie blushed, looking at his shoes.

"Oh my god!" Robin exclaimed. "You woke him up."

"What?" Steve asked.

"You woke him up!" Robin exclaimed, and Eddie quickly hid behind his hair.

"It's the outfit!" Eddie shrieked.

"So, what is it about the outfit that does it for you?" Steve asked.

"It's everything! The socks! The shorts that fill out your ass fantastically, by the way! And the shirt with the red bow tie in front," Eddie said. "It's just the whole fucking outfit."

"You should see me in the hat," Steve said in amusement.

Suddenly, Dustin and Erica burst into the bathroom before Steve could say anything else.

"There you are!" Dustin shrieked.

"Hey, could you give us a minute?" Steve asked Robin.

Robin quickly started ushering the kids out of the bathroom.

"But, Steve?!" Dustin asked.

"Out!" Robin yelled and shut the door behind them.

"I like you and as badly as I want to kiss you right now. . . I don't want it to be after I vomited in a bathroom. Plus, you still need to figure things out. If you still want me a few days from now. Call me. I have to deal with these kids I babysit. So go home and think things over," Steve said softly.

There was something that Steve wasn't telling him, but Eddie knew that he was also right. Besides, it was late. Steve placed his hands on Eddie's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. It felt much like Steve was promising him something. Steve pulled away and started moving toward the door.

"Hey, Steve?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm definitely going to call you," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and walked out of the bathroom, leaving them both with hope for the future.

[bi-writes]

ghost always gets what he wants. (18+, blood kink, dark)

right now, what he wants is sitting across the pub from him. she's smiling, swinging her legs a little as she talks to the bloke next to her. he's leaning into her space, making her laugh, buying her drinks and keeping her smiling and a little drunk. he's putting it on heavy, ghost can tell--actively listening to her, engaging in the conversation, never letting her add her drink to any tab but his own.

ghost tilts his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth under the mask. that man wouldn't know what to do with that kind of a girl. she's all woman, soft skin, wide hips, a pair of tits he knows would feel like welcome weights between the palms of his gloved hands, pouty lips that deserved to be kissed and bitten and sliding along the length of a cock that can fill her up and choke her from the inside out.

that's what pretty girls like her deserve--to be fucked spineless, to be reduced to nothing but a teary, whimpering mess. a muppet like that would never know what to do with her, how to touch her, how to make her sing.

she's a soft thing. a pretty thing. and he wants her, so he will have her.

you exit the bathroom, a skip in your step as you shuffle outside. he said he would get a car, take you home, and you bounce on your toes as you wait by the curb, looking around the empty parking lot for your ride. but after a few minutes, you turn your head each way, and you realize no one is here, and there is no car coming.

you fully spin around when a dark figure comes out from behind the alleyway. big boots crunch the gravel underneath, and when he comes under the light of the streetlamp, you take a small step back.

the light cuts an angle over his face. you swallow, taking in the breadth of him, tilting your head to look up at him as he steps closer. his mask covers most of his face, and the eyeblack clouds his skin, but you can see the determination in his eyes. it is in the rigidness of his shoulders, the way he stands--and it is the pass of a tactical knife over his chest that you understand the danger that one person can impose.

he wipes one side of it over his dark jacket, stepping closer, until he's in your space, hovering over you. your lips part as he brings the knife down, pressing the other side of it against your throat. you tense a little as he meets your eyes, passing it over until the blood against the sharp edge wipes off, staining the skin of your neck.

he pauses when he sees the hint of a smile on your face. he narrows his eyes, expecting fear, expecting something other than the interest that sparkles in your eyes. like you are all-knowing. like you see everything he is, everything he is not, and like you know what it is he wants.

"i see you," you whisper. "all the time."

ghost sniffs, glaring, and you keep your eyes on his as he drags the knife down your chest, the tip of it moving down between your breasts.

"you're not very subtle," you finish. "quite obvious, what it is that you do...why you do it."

ghost tilts his head to the side, clicking his tongue, and you almost giggle.

"is tha' right, swee'eart?"

you nod.

"been waiting," you say softly.

"for wot?"

you smile.

"for you to make your move," you murmur. your eyes flicker down, eyeing the blood on the front of his jacket. you look up into his eyes again, pursing your lips, and ghost bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. fuck, the same thing he sees in his dreams, it's in your fucking eyes. you're not afraid, and it angers him, repulses him, and fulfills him all the same. "hmm...you didn't approve of him?"

ghost growls, "was a right muppet. cried like a baby."

your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and ghost follows the drag of your tongue hungrily. you are not the screaming, soft, doe-eyed little thing he thought he might like to have.

you are silent, deadly, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he does not just want to have you. he needs you. he needs you to live under his skin. he needs to taste you, to have you flood his mouth, to chew and eat and swallow and breathe.

he would say you are his match made in heaven, but he knows this does not exist, because if it did, he wouldn't be real. and neither would you.

"ooof," you scrunch your nose. "i hate cry babies."

you almost make him laugh.

he steps closer, sliding the knife lower until it rests at the curve of your waist.

"you don't need that, you know," you whisper, and he leans in, the front of his mask brushing against your lips.

"no?"

"no," you echo, smiling wider. "if you wanna feel up my skirt, all you gotta do is ask. it'd be nice to have your name first though."

"ghost."

you giggle, "your real name, baby."

"'s ghost."

"that what you want me to say when i'm in your bed tonight?"

"who said you'll be in m'bed?"

you reach up with one hand, dragging the tip of your finger down the strong line of his jaw. he towers over you, shadows you, and the knife is sharp against your skin, but all you want is to be a little closer.

you close your eyes when you feel his hand. the tips of his gloved fingers graze the skin of your upper thighs, and you suck in a soft breath when he drags that hand up under your skirt. you put both hands on his chest as you tremble slightly, holding onto him for support as his big hand fondles one side of your ass. his fingers creep lower, and he groans audibly.

"no knickers, swee'eart?" he mutters, and you just giggle breathlessly. "how long 'av y'been waitin' for me, huh?"

you open your eyes, tilting your head back and holding back a whine when you feel his thick fingers prodding at your folds, soaking up the slick there and teasing your cunt. it's sick--you must be sick, you must be awful, you must be so dead inside, you have to be, but it's so hard to care.

you gasp when he grips your throat, forcing your eyes on his, and you hold him there.

"answer me. how long 'av y'been waitin' for me?"

you soften, smile, bare your teeth for him.

"my whole life, baby."

[moviecritc]

ohhh i may have an idea for your polyamorous thing, what about the reader trying to soft launch her relationship with carlando but people keep thinking they’re just a group of very close friends or they think that she is only dating one of them and the other is just their friend so she gets tired of people not taking the hint and just ends up hard launching? maybe at a grand prix weekend?

captions ⋆ carlando smau

pairing: carlando x reader

summary: carlos, lando and you had been dating and soft launching each other for almost two years, and carlos just got bored of people thinking you're just friends.

warnings: some suggestive comments

a/n: not the biggest fan of lando EXCEPT when carlos is around so i loved doing this so much. also, it's my first smau, pls tell me what you guys think about it <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

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yourusername spent a few days watching this two drive in circles very fast (+ kiki)

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user1 NEW CARLANDO PHOTO JUST POSTED

user2 thank u y/n for feeding us with all this carlando content

landonorris dry ass caption

yourusername at least i post you you dumbass user1 never beating couple allegations user3 carlos must be so tired of third wheeling them

user4 THAT IS THE CUTEST DOG I'VE EVER SEEN

francisca.cgomes i'll never forgive you for naming your dog almost like me

yourusername it's my love language ok landonorris you could've named it lando or smth yourusername i'll change her name to nowins 💋 landonorris wait wat

carlossainz55 👑

landonorris ok i'll correct myself THIS is dry carlossainz55 you muppet yourusername at least he comments good things ?? user5 their friendship is top tier

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user1 here before y/n

user2 NOT LANDO SOFT LAUNCHING CARLOS

user3 i'm dying

user4 i don't wanna start something but that aren't lando's arms in the third picture

user5 it scares me that you can recognize lando's arms... user6 girl go touch some grass

yourusername and i'm the one getting called dry

landonorris i didn't want you to feel bad bout you're boring caption 💛

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yourusername you guys could've win at least

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landonorris isn't a podium not enough for you?

yourusername no landonorris yeah idc what you think yourusername THEN WHY U ASK i'm changing to red bull they'll give me more emotional stability maxverstappen1 please stay there i don't want to have lando in the garage looking for you

user1 cute cute cute friendship

user2 call me crazy but...

user3 but WHAT GIRL? user2 lando soft launching carlos and posting the picture of y/n with another boy (definitely carlos), and them posting each other anytime they can user4 girl they're just friends user5 yeah they've been knowing each other for a long time, they're just very close

carlossainz55 our biggest supporter 💛💛

yourusername always 💛 user2 OUR biggest supporter? them using the same heart lando used in a previous post? user6 paranoid

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carlossainz55 💛💛💛

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user1 WAIT OMFG

user2 CARLOS HARD LAUNCHING LANDO AND Y/N I TOLD U GUYS

user3 they're all dating?

user4 isn't that obvious

yourusername cute dog

carlossainz55 Hermosa we talked about calling Lando our dog landonorris she meant kiki you muppet yourusername no i actually meant you baby

user4 y/n won the game with this two

user5 now i know how true jealousy feels like

yourusername my pretty boyss 💛

carlossainz55 🥰🥰

landonorris dream rides 🤩

yourusername lan- carlossainz55 I'm going to ban Lando from this app user3 LANDO LMAOOOO

user6 CARLOS AND KIKI ARE THE CUTEST AHGDJKJHFSA

charlesleclerc so happy for you guys

user7 charles approves

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yourusername your dream girl's dream boys

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carlossainz55 First

landonorris he's so obsessed carlossainz55 Yeah

landonorris now THAT is a good caption

francisca.cgomes ok cutiess

danielricciardo Y/N blink twice if you need help

landonorris shut the fuck up she's totally fine with us yourusername save me pls

user2 does she even have a job?

landonorris serving cunt? carlossainz55 Being the most beautiful woman in the world? yourusername i'm a publicist but yeah mostly what they said user3 you're so iconic for this

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part vii

✧.* you've finally secured your well deserved p1 after months of suffering with red bull and while you celebrate it the right way, love is in the air and everybody sees it now.

✧.* when i think about my muppets i think about this song, should i make like a playlist of songs that remind me of this fic, give y'all the vibes ive been having? 👀 spelling mistakes add character, don't mind them 🥰 this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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y/nusername

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y/nusername I'd like to thank my parents— p1 baby!🏆

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y/nloveee yes baaaaabbyyyyy 🤩🤩

norrizz one big fat fuck you to red bull!

adam_norris_pure_electric amazing race, amazing driver!🥇

carlandooo oh my gosh, I'm dead, Adam out here supporting his future daughter in law 😭

norry4 stop it 😭

ricky78 bring it home y/n!

natewhite this girls good, she should try racing in f1..

carlossainz55 well deserved! 🔥

chilisainz wish I had a supportive ex boyfriend 💀

y/nlandooo we're so back with our 1-2!

yourmomsuser super proud of you! 🥰

milouberger back where you belong!

hamilt44n girl, shut up..as if you didn't try to push her off the track halfway..🤨

redbullgirl come back please, perez is a joke 😢

landonorris that's my girlfriend 😍

bott_ass we were aware 😂

landonorris you got any plans tonight? wanna celebrate?

landosmclaren HOWLING ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED

maxfewtrell mega race 🙌

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landonorris posted on their story

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cecilemoulin posted to their story

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y/nusername ending an amazing weekend with my favorite lil' guy 🧡

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norrizz honestly such a power couple!!

sharl16 oh they in love love huh?

bott_ass not the after sex selfie 😭

bananaclerc I was looking for this comment 😭

y/nlando y/n's finally showing more of her and lando on here 🥺

mrsnorris 🤮 get someone your own age 🤮

cecilemoulin I just know y'all were late because you've been watching tiktok's in bed all morning..

y/nusername Cecile thirst trap edits go hard

carlandooo y'all think y/n finally realised she likes this man? Seemed pretty one sided to me for a hot minute 😂

ceciley/n I think Cecile said in an interview that THEY aren't used to dating younger dudes and that she felt out of place for the first few weeks..pretty sure she meant herself and y/n 😉

carlandooo CECILE IS DATING SOMEONE?

ceciley/n yeah..max fewtrell? Girl where have you been? 😂

carlandooo under a fucking rock apparently! Wow, these girls really said young, cute and british? Yes ma'am 🥰 so real of them

ceciley/n a couple of besties dating another couple of besties 😂

hamilt44n where are Carlos and Pierre now? You think they gave up? :')

landonorris favourite lil' muppet 🧡

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @glow-ish

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @judespoisons @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie. 

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time. 

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird? 

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying. 

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one." 

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past. 

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour." 

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."  

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking. 

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!" 

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening." 

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her. 

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?" 

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf." 

"I brought cookies." 

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Your bravado makes him laugh. 

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one. 

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting. 

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout." 

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something. 

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you. 

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch." 

"Yeah? What's the tab?" 

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed." 

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies." 

"I think those might help me out." 

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos. 

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks. 

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them." 

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time." 

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever." 

"I like sugar." 

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends. 

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?" 

You pass it to him. 

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip. 

"You don't think it looks cruel?" 

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?" 

"How many babies do you know?" 

"One." 

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it." 

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies. 

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it. 

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite. 

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done. 

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh. 

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple. 

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it." 

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze. 

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely. 

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite. 

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?" 

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively. 

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together. 

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh. 

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another. 

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them." 

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies. 

"Oh." 

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure. 

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure. 

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught. 

You could ruin them completely for all he cares. 

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie. 

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do. 

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks. 

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish. 

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?” 

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise. 

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain. 

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip. 

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him. 

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.” 

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?” 

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended. 

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click. 

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?" 

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles. 

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?" 

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?" 

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm. 

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father." 

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this." 

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom. 

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world." 

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!" 

-

You're clinging to sanity. 

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic. 

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress. 

You're terrified. 

You've found yourself in tears, too. 

"Just tell me, baby," you plead. 

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital. 

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack. 

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt. 

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books. 

You take a ragged breath. 

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?" 

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say. 

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer. 

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over. 

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown. 

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything." 

"She was like this when you picked her up?" 

You nod. 

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise. 

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe." 

"Yeah." 

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen. 

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in. 

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it? 

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock. 

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood 

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe. 

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?" 

"Yeah. A hair." 

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer. 

"Stay there," you say without any explanation. 

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees. 

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear. 

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover." 

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit. 

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital." 

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues. 

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks. 

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you. 

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen. 

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully. 

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out." 

"I don't feel well." 

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."  

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?" 

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself. 

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see. 

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know." 

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right." 

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it. 

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest. 

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this." 

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?" 

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically. 

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it." 

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to. 

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears. 

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching. 

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.  

"Don't be." 

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own." 

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth. 

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring. 

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…"  You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh. 

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast." 

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum. 

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now. 

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears. 

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today. 

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want." 

"Do I look that bad?" 

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can. 

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas. 

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss. 

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel. 

"No socks," she agrees. 

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world. 

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence. 

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm. 

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk. 

She sighs. You sigh too. 

Eddie hums from the kitchen. 

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie. 

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion. 

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers. 

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird." 

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot. 

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices. 

"You can cook," you say, surprised. 

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross." 

"I doubt it's gross." 

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon. 

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained. 

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look." 

"So don't look. Eat." 

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth. 

-

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater. 

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh." 

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin. 

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows. 

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head. 

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson. 

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful. 

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it. 

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you. 

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe. 

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company. 

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no. 

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest. 

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to. 

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity. 

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes. 

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about." 

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible. 

“If you’re sure,” you say. 

“Positive.”

-

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him. 

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly. 

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks. 

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty. 

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing. 

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you. 

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek. 

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin. 

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings. 

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?” 

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware. 

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie. 

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn. 

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily. 

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter. 

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask. 

She looks at you curiously. 

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy." 

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile. 

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring. 

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip. 

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently. 

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut. 

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring. 

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair. 

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye." 

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off. 

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement. 

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?” 

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge. 

-

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride. 

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour. 

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist. 

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said. 

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said. 

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare. 

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain.  “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud. 

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real. 

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore. 

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away. 

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly. 

“What?” he asks. 

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot. 

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth. 

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress. 

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real. 

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms. 

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.” 

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs. 

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically. 

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek. 

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like. 

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same. 

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging. 

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely. 

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect. 

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh. 

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric. 

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly. 

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion. 

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko." 

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you. 

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same. 

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion. 

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore." 

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially. 

"Whatever it's called." 

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need. 

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow. 

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow." 

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook. 

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed. 

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes. 

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves. 

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both. 

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately. 

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page. 

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book. 

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters. 

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy." 

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her. 

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. . 

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh. 

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet. 

-

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later. 

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat. 

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly. 

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers. 

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky. 

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag. 

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.  

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours. 

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin. 

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly. 

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts. 

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand. 

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process. 

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly. 

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?" 

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say.. 

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls." 

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway, 

-

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle. 

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile. 

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why. 

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return. 

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs. 

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting. 

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?" 

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose. 

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside. 

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?" 

"Okay," she says. 

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you." 

You kiss her cheek. 

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe." 

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds. 

"Grand," Eddie praises. 

"What did you want to come here for?" 

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there." 

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys. 

"Why'd they have so many?" 

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?" 

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though." 

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side. 

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time. 

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck." 

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit." 

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck. 

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new. 

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more." 

"Who's that?" 

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her." 

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?" 

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you. 

"It would be sick, if you liked them." 

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap." 

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully. 

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?" 

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt. 

"You want?" he asks. 

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents." 

He gasps. "What?" 

"I can afford that one myself." 

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?" 

"They won't." 

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match." 

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick. 

You see your saving grace across the way. 

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?" 

Junie perks up. 

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage. 

"What?" she asks. 

"I saw… teddies!" 

"Mr. Bear?" she asks. 

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?" 

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games. 

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe. 

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her." 

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness. 

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says. 

"And if she gets dermatitis?" 

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash." 

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath." 

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly. 

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk." 

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved." 

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away. 

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose. 

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other. 

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two. 

Best day ever. 

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies." 

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever. 

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three. 

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one." 

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you." 

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock." 

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen. 

"Eddie," you say again, quietly. 

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to." 

"Really?" 

"Only for the rabbit." 

You purse your lips to fight a smile. 

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything. 

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear. 

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder." 

-

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest. 

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide. 

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?" 

"A rash." 

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby." 

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out." 

"He thought you were hurting yourself?" 

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens. 

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar. 

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom." 

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer. 

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet." 

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have. 

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me." 

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming." 

"Yeah, you should've." 

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand. 

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly. 

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper. 

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller. 

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?" 

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out. 

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush. 

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?" 

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline. 

"You want me to drive?" you ask. 

"No, sweetheart. You're good." 

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…" 

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap. 

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

You waver. 

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark." 

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you. 

"I'll crawl." 

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively. 

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh." 

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly. 

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home. 

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open. 

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way. 

"Eddie," you start. 

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again." 

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it." 

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with. 

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you. 

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily. 

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour? 

I didn't force him. He likes me. 

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."  

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask. 

"Of course you can." 

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows. 

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles. 

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?" 

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it." 

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask. 

"I'll try that one after you." 

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite. 

"Leave some for me." 

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here." 

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite. 

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?" 

"I think so." 

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one." 

"What?" 

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside." 

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?" 

"A long time ago." 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly. 

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure. 

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!" 

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next." 

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!" 

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed. 

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy. 

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror. 

"Cake?" she asks. 

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you." 

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo. 

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement. 

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite. 

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her. 

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs. 

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it. 

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?" 

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

[lovelytsunoda]

nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

[dumbseee]

moving on.

f1 au: in which y/n breaks up with her longtime boyfriend who also happens to be a footballer. she finds comfort in her brother’s best friend: lando norris.

lando norris x sainz!singer!reader

fc: cindy kimberly.

note: english isn’t my first language!

liked by sainzz55, fairyyn, jaimeebellfort and 1 008 others.

footwags: y/n sainz and dele ali have broke up after two years. the footballer apparently cheated on the singer.

_

fan1: noooo i loved them together

fan2: ooop carlos isn’t going to be happy with that

fan3: he fumbled so hard

fan4: cheating on THEE y/n sainz??

fan5: the break up album is going to be FIIIIRE

fan6: what a dick

fan7: he didn’t know how to handle a baddie like her that’s why

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 6 799 098 others.

y/nsainz: ‘exile’ is out now on every platform 🕊

_

fan1: y/n we love you!

fan2: ‘you ripped my heart out to play soccer with it.’ :(

carlossainz55: i love you corazón, you’re so strong

liked by y/n.

landonorris: the strongest woman i know ❤️

liked by y/n.

lilymhe: your voice never fails to make me cry y/n.

liked by y/n.

fan4: these lyrics are so heartbreaking srs

fan5: so he cheated on her and made fun of her in his friends groupchat? wtf is wrong with that dude

liked by carlossainz55, y/nsainz, maxfewtrell and 356 997 others.

lando.jpg: y/n through my camera because i miss her.

_

y/nsainz: missing you too pretty boy <3

fan1: lando trying to cheer her up :(

fan2: that’s so cute omg

fan3: brother’s best friend trope coming to life or…?

carlossainz55: how come you capture my sister in such a beautiful way and my pictures all look like shit?

landonorris: @.carlossainz55 y/n is a natural and you’re not.

fan4: i love them

fan5: missing the besties

landonorris just posted a story!

tagged: @.y/nsainz.

lando norris just posted a story!

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, gigihadid and 3 789 997 others.

y/nsainz: needed that xx

_

landonorris: when did you took the first one? i don’t remember seeing you around wtf

y/nsainz: @.landonorris you’re always behind the camera and you looked pretty

fan1: okay i ship that

fan2: cuties omg

fan3: lando taking her on vacation 🥹

carlossainz55: why wasn’t i invited?

danielricciardo: @.carlossainz55 you wanted to be the third wheel?

landonorris:@.danielricciardo DANIEL

y/nsainz: @.danielricciardo JOSEPH GET OFF MY COMMENT SECTION

fan4: not daniel exposing the lovebirds

fan5: awww

fan6: we need more pictures of these two

fan7: i missed their friendship so much

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, maxfewtrell and 3 799 008 others.

y/nsainz: he always take pictures of everyone and everything but hardly has any pictures of himself, so here’s a compilation of all the pictures i took when pretty boy wasn’t looking <3

_

fan1: ‘pretty boy’ 🥹🥹

landonorris: i prefer the word handsome but i’ll take it

fan2: he’s so pretty wtf

danielricciardo just posted a story!

tagged: @.landonorris / @.y/nsainz.

this story isn’t available.

liked by y/nsainz, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 4 789 678 others.

landonorris: since daniel is too old to know how to use instagram correctly, me and y/n have been outed, before anyone starts speculating we’re taking things slowly and i want her to heal her heart before loving anyone else after what she went through a few months ago. i’ll wait for you and your heart to be ready to welcome me in it. mine is ready for you, it’s always have been. to my muse, i’ll always treasure you.

_

y/nsainz: i don’t know what i’d do without you, thank you for being so patient and loving with me pretty boy <3

liked by landonorris.

carlossainz55: even if i still can’t believe what my eyes witnessed these past few days, you’re the only one i actually trust to love my sister the way she deserves to be loved (but be careful muppet)

liked by landonorris.

fan1: this is TOO cute

fan2: lando being a patient boyfriend we love to see it

fan3: this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like, seriously y/n deserves all the love

fan4: we haven’t heard from daniel since the ig story is he alive?

danielricciardo: @.fan4 they locked me in my OWN basement for a WEEK with only water and bread to stay alive call the police.

y/nsainz: @.danielricciardo you’re such a liar joseph

carlossainz55: @.danielricciardo don’t give me ideas.

[landorris]

yes, and? | carlos sainz x fem! leclerc reader

part four to this

fc; sophia birlem

warnings; english is not my first language, 10 years of age gap (20 to 29/30)

taglist; @thef1diary @bigsimperika @shobaes @d3kstar @stinkyjax @the-untamed-soul @bibissparkles @judespoision

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, thedude and others

yourusername: played (and won) against a random dude

user1: party animal

user2: i wanna be like her

danielricciardo: going out without me i see

yourusername: next week danny

thedude: you were pretty wild last night, if you ever want a rematch just hit me up

user3: oh she’s living the life

charles_leclerc: stop going out

pascale.leclerc.355: let your sister live!

yourusername: you tell him maman!

your phone

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo,carlossainz55 and others

yourusername: red for ferrari podium in monza❤️

user1: okay mysterious man again

danielricciardo: oh i think i got it

user2: at this point just say it’s carlos

user3: supportive sister

user4: carlos liking again

carlossainz55

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and others

carlossainz55: had the best view in monaco, and it wasn’t from p2

user1: yeah they definitely got back together

user2: PARENTS

landonorris: congrats muppet❤️

carlossainz55: gracías lando🧡

user3: THE HEART COLORS OH THEY’RE SO DEAR TO ME

user4: carlos sainz leading the championship 🕯️

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername: felt cold during night in canada

user1: okay she has to come to spain

user2: carlos in the likes

carlossainz55: i could tell

yourusername: 🤓

user3: OMG CARLOS COMMENTED

user4: THEY’VE BEEN SOFT LUNCHING FOR MONTHS

your phone

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl and others

yourusername: told this little (not so little) guy i would hard lunch him if he won his home race so congrats ig (first pic his him looking at my feed waiting for it) te quiero mí amor ❤️‍🔥

carlossainz55: it was worth the wait

carlossainz55: te quiero mucho más

user1: we knew it

danielricciardo: i kept this secret for like two weeks and i was dying

landonorris: same here mate

charles_leclerc: you told DANIEL and not me???? I’M YOUR BROTHER

yourusername: i told lorenzo

charles_leclerc: LORENZO KNEW?

lorenzotl: ofc i knew

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and others

carlossainz55: just the bad bitch i pulled from being spanish 🌶️ je t'aime mon petit❤️‍🔥

yourusername: not the pics choice

yourusername: charles is going to freak out

yourusername: je t’aime carlitos❤️❤️

user1: WOW

user2: the difference between the posts is sending me😭😭

user3: is charles alive?

charles_leclerc: WTF IS THIS MATE

charles_leclerc: DELETE THIS SHE’S A CHILD

carlossainz55: belive me, she’s not

charles_leclerc: you’re dead

arthur_leclerc: this is my sister 😐

lorenzotl: don’t fuck up again carlos

carlossainz55: i won’t🫡

user4: her relationship with arthur is so dear to me

user5: i love how we all ignored that he won

[vacantwatchers]

Platonic Stobin discuss Steve's relationship with Nancy. It's kind of critical on Nancy bc I'm biased (and a hater). Read it on Ao3 here.

“Explain to me why Henderson thinks you’re into Nancy again.”

“Fuck knows, Rob. I haven’t seen her around, let alone spoken to her since all that shit at the mall.” He didn’t really like the way she’d frowned at Robin when they’d met up, definitely hadn’t liked the antagonistic tone she used when she’d asked who Robin was.

Steve felt Robin sigh before the gentle weight of her head rested atop his. “The little gremlin cornered me at lunch and demanded to know why we weren’t dating–”

“I’m out of your league,” Steve muttered to her right hand as he slowly coated her index in the dark red polish.

“Keep believing that, Popeye. He asked me if I thought you were repugnant or something and that's why I wouldn't give you the time of day.”

Steve paused to swipe away polish with his nail. “What does repugnant mean?”

Robin hummed, a little delay as she tried to find a definition for him. Steve can imagine her flicking through a little rolodex that’s full of what Robin considers Steve approved explanations.

In the space of his waiting, he’d managed to finish the first coat on her right hand and gently lifted her hand up, smiling to himself at the way Robin moved from his hand to his shoulder.

(It took three weeks of working in Family Video, working back to back shifts so dead they made the burnt shell of Starcourt look lively for Robin to come in one day with a bulging pencil case and the demand that “if you’re just going to sit there, at least paint my nails, dingus.” It took three attempts with Robin smudging her nails with her flailing before they established that when he finished a hand, he would lift it, and she would rest it on his shoulder.)

“Repugnant is like when something is really distasteful, unacceptable.”

“Tammy Thompson’s muppet singing is repugnant.”

Robin snorted into his hair. “Perfect use of repugnant, Steve. It’s also a word you can use similar to revolting, repulsive, disgusting and offensive.”

Pulling her left hand closer to his right side so he could see what he was doing, Steve hummed. “Okay. So Dustin thinks you think I’m revolting, repulsive, disgusting, and offensive?”

“Yeah, Steve, I told him I just couldn’t date such a disgusting man who spends twenty minutes on his hair after a shower and ignores me every time I tell him he needs to go to an optometrist because the way he can’t see makes me sad. No. I said that while I am happy to spend my life with you as my soulmate, we are strictly platonic.”

Sliding the brush back into the bottle, Steve gently swiped his nail down the side of Robin’s thumb. “That absolutely didn’t shut him up. Give them a minute before I do the next coat.”

Robin nodded her understanding, which made him nod. “No, me saying that didn’t stop him. Me asking if the reason he was so interested in your love life was because he was the one with the crush on you, however, did.”

“Ew, Robin, he’s like my brother.”

“That is exactly what he said, just with a lot more volume and yelling.”

Steve leaned further into the weight of Robin at his back, taking a moment to absorb the fact that she lets him take whatever touch he needs without freaking out the same way she does whenever someone else tries to touch her in the slightest. Uses the pause to organise his thoughts out of the jumbled train they come at him in. “I’m not sure when, uh. When we dated, I’m not sure it was love.”

“Okay.” Robin’s hum tingled through his diaphragm. “Talk it through, you were convinced last year you’d loved her. Don’t even try to think it out for me like you do, just say it all.”

“The ol’ Robin treatment, huh?”

“I hate that that is what you call it, but yes. Please proceed.”

“We dated, and I tried to be there for her, right? Like I had to go to these absolutely depressing dinners with Barb’s family every fucking week, because Nancy thought it was the right thing to do and I had to pretend to eat the food, and I tried to give her space when it felt like she was pulling away. I’d take her out to get her away from thinking about it all because I could see that she was struggling and thought maybe doing normal shit teenagers did would help. Would sit with her and listen when she needed me to, or just be with her when she needed silence. I’d ask about how she slept, and if she was still having nightmares, I would reach out and just try and hold her hand or hug her.

“But, I don't know. I’ve been thinking back on it, and Nancy never really did the same shit back, y’know. She would have these moods where she’d just be so angry. Angry at herself, the situation. Me. And I get it, it was fucked up and we couldn’t tell anyone without the threat of being taken away. But she’d go on and on about how we killed Barb and it was our fault and then it would turn into how it was my fault she was dead. And then so often she would say this line and at first I was like, she’s saying it in this fond way so she doesn’t mean it, but she said it so oft–”

“What would she say?”

Steve tilted his head back so he could look up at Robin. “What?”

“Nancy. What would she say?”

“Oh.” Steve looked back down, fiddling with the nail polish bottle. “She’d say ‘you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington’ and she’d make these comments, and I don’t even know if she was aware of it. Like she’d call me dumb and say don’t be stupid, or imply that I wouldn’t be able to do something or understand because I wouldn't get it.

“And when she went over my work she’d say it never made sense, and like, her tone, her tone always said it because I wasn’t smart enough. Like, she’d read over things and point and make comments, and honestly, it was more confusing than anything because the points made sense to me, but apparently not to her–”

Robin made her little grunting sound. She did it every time she needed to interject something. “Yeah but that's like, your mind's process. You do it when you talk too, that structuring thing you do where you make these links to things, and it all somehow flows. My mom said you might have something called dyslexia or dysgraphia. One of those two.”

Steve looked up at Robin, eyebrows scrunching up. “You talk to your mom about me? When did she even have time to figure that out?”

“I talk about you to her all the time because we both love you. And she noticed when you were helping me with my English homework.”

Huh. “Okay then.”

“Keep going with what you were saying, sailorman.”

Seven months, and she still hasn't given up on the nautical nicknames. Jesus.

“After early admissions for colleges had closed, Henderson actually found the essay I wrote, and he said it was good. That the parallels were there and with only a little tweaking it would have been great, and when I mentioned what Nancy said he kind of paused before reading it again and said he didn’t see what she was talking about. He even had his mom read it because for a while, she was admin for a college, and she said it would have gotten me in. After Christmas, I asked Nancy if she wanted to go with me to tour some colleges once and she looked at me when I dropped some of the names and said, ‘Do you think they’ll believe you’d fit in there?'"

“Jesus Christ,” Robin muttered.

“It just, it built up and I think at the time I was blind to it because I was trying to lose myself in the relationship, in being there for her.”

“What about you?” Robin’s hand slid down from its perch on his shoulder to his chest so she could pull him closer. “Was she there for you? Like, you told me that since ‘83 you can’t eat meat because of the smell of burning demogorgon put you off, and that having to lure the demodogs with meat was really triggering. And I know you have trouble sleeping and you have those awful nightmares that make it so that sometimes you can’t eat.

“Which, can I just say, is really concerning because you already have this habit of forgetting to eat even when you’ve brought lunch. And I know it’s probably something to do with the way you get stuck into stock or shelving, but I hate it when you get into that groove. But I’ve also figured out that you will eat anything I hand to you, as long as I’ve taken a bite first, so it’s not that bad.”

Needing to move a little, Steve tightened the nail polish and started shaking the bottle.

“Oh, uh. Those dinners with Barb’s family, it was always KFC, that’s why I never ate anything there. She’d actually get annoyed because she thought it was disrespectful? That I only ate the bread and chips? And after that first night where Barb died, Nancy never came over to my house again because she said it had too many bad memories and it made her uncomfortable to be there. So she never really saw the nightmares. When she wanted to see me, she would have me come over and she’d push me on the bed and then when she was done she’d tell me it was getting late, and kind of push me towards her window to go.”

“Steve– that doesn't sound healthy at all.”

"Yeah."

Lifting the nail polish bottle, Robin took it as the signal it was and dropped her hand in his again.

“I think, even when I was dating her, she talked more to Jonathan than me.”

“That’s fucked up, Steve.”

“I think that’s just trauma, Bobby. We weren’t good together. I don’t know. Whatever Dustin is seeing between us is completely in his head. Especially considering the money moves I'm making with Operation Metalhead.”

“You need to stop saying money moves. All you've done is wave at him and blush when he loaned you a Megadeth tape.”

Gently guiding her hand back into his best field of vision, Steve started in on the second coat. “I don't know, sounds pretty money to me.”

Steve felt Robin inhale for a deep sigh, her warmth increasing against his back for a moment before she exhaled. "I think Eddie might have actually graduated before Operation Metalhead gets anywhere close to being a success."

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Rita Moreno (Singin' in the Rain, West Side Story)—She’s an EGOT, an absolute legend for how she navigated her career as a woman of color in the fifties and sixties. Her performance as Anita in West Side Story is why I go back to that movie so many times. She is an icon and she is the moment.

Angela Lansbury (The Harvey Girls, The Court Jester, The Manchurian Candidate)—The babe, the myth, the legend. In her own words her early hollywood roles were "a series of venal bitches" and they were all glorious. Half of them wanted to kill you and you probably would have thanked them. She even goes toe to toe with Judy Garland in The Harvey Girls! That said, she was chronically underused and misused during this era - she was just 36 when she was cast as Elvis Presley's mother in Blue Hawaii and a few years later commented that she'd played so many 'old hags' that most people thought she was in her 60s. She thought she was "all talent, no looks" but she was the full package! Post-1970 I hope we all know what an incredibly talented and compassionate badass she was, but I feel like not enough people know her early roles as a hot (often villainous) young thing.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Rita Moreno propaganda:

"Amazing showstopping actress in her one big memorable role as Anita in West Side Story. She sings and dances with unmatched joy and energy, and then breaks your heart with her acting. Rita took a role that felt as a stereotype to latina women and made it compelling and multifaceted. Her subsequent career was filled with mostly side roles, but she still managed to excel in whatever Hollywood threw at her."

"It’s Rita!! The EGOT herself! She can act, she can sing, she can dance, a triple threat. Obviously absolutely iconic as Anita in West Side Story (her part of the Tonight Quintet is the sexiest part of the film, fight me). But before that she was the amazing Zelda in Singin’ In the Rain!?! Thanks Zelda, you’re a real pal."

"She continues to be amazing but also she's got legs for days."

"THEE iconic rita moreno, EGOT winner, civil rights activist, theatre legend. watch her documentary "Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It". also her rendition of "fever" on the muppet show"

Angela Lansbury:

"Angela Lansbury might not be where your mind goes first when you think of hot leading women, because she had a later career revival. But she began acting in the early 1940s after leaving London due to the Blitz. In the first couple decades of her film career she has an openness about her. She said she never really fit in with the Hollywood crowd and to me she gives off a friendly, untarnished vibe."

64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

"Most of us know Angela Lansbury as old lady sleuth Jessica Fletcher, but it's important to know that she was smoking hot in her younger days as well as a damned fine actress. Although she didn't get lead roles until her early 40s, at 17 she was a supporting actress in films such as Gaslight (1944), National Velvet (1944), and The Picture of Dorian Grey, for which she won the Golden Globe for best supporting actress and was nominated for the Oscar. Even in her memorable performance as the manipulative mother in The Manchurian Candidate, she is listed as a supporting actress as she does not play the love interest. She was successful both on stage and screen, and won the Tony for her lead role in the musical Mame on Broadway in 1966. TL;DR While Angela Lansbury mostly played supporting roles in films before 1970, she had what it takes to be a leading actress, which we know from her success on stage and tv from the mid 60s onward"

"She looked like a princess but bit like a viper"

"Is there anything this woman couldn't do? Act in comedy and drama, sing, dance, be a wonderful human being - quite simply a true and wonderful lady."

"she is the fairytale princess of my dreams in court jester"

"god she had such an incredible career all throughout her life really but as a young lady she was just as incredible as she was in her later years. enchanting voice, amazing personality, and absolutely GORGEOUS. she lamented not having the looks to play leads in romance but that idea is so batshit because look at her??? she's one of the most terrific women of all time. also she's my grandmother's favorite actress and i truly get it"