#It took longer and seemed to lack any good ones

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I've been reading a lot of Korean isekai webcomics lately and given me an idea of being Malleus or Leona fiance who he didn't even love at all ( liked he thinks they are being too clingy or something like that but in reality they care about them and try help them out with daily tasks and try to bring something interesting to lighten the mood or the very least lift up their mood to at least feel better )

and reader taken over the body of said fiance and just like " I don't wanna get killed, or die, I have magic to help me out so I'll just run away from here " and just left him to venture out in the world maybe settle in somewhere outside of the kingdom to somewhere else in a small village to settle, and when they realize that how much their former finance care for them and realize they are no longer in the castle and looking for them

And what do they feel when they see her ( fae or beastwoman ) with a human male who made her really happy when they found her

Manwha Mistreated Married Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

It's downright unfair to be the only one trying in this arranged marriage setting. Not to mention the lack of care when it comes to hiding their growing interest in this Yuu character. Why shouldn’t you be allowed happiness with your own human, far away from the unforgiving environment of their castle? What’s worse is that they will come running and it is not to congratulate you:

Leona Kingscholar

“What the-”

When he finally does get around to actually doing the paperwork of being a prince

He finds that he’s been sent a constant barrage of divorce material 

And then he’s reminded that he’s been married off to…someone he can’t even be bothered to remember

But he looks at the official Royal portraits of you 

And goes to search 

He wanted to see what he was working with

“Uh your majesty, they’ve been gone for over a year now.”

A year?! Already

So he reaches into the back of his mind to the memories of you 

Reporting how much of his work you did for him or how you gifted him some new pillows as a gift 

It makes him feel itchy 

So he begins an arduous search for you

Something that takes longer than he expects 

Eventually finding you working on a farm 

Clearly making goo-goo eyes at the pathetic buff farm hand

So he decides to pop your bubble, revealing that technically still married

“Oh, I know that. But they’re waitin’ on you to finalize the divorce, y’know?”

Drats

There’s nothing more he hates than watching you look longingly at each other despite being so close

But he can’t bring himself to sign his name

Preferring to instead fight for his ownership of your heart

And if he has to get dirty he doesn’t mind

It just means he’s one step closer to making you return

He wants you to come running back to him

To hang off his every word as he does now

To kiss his knuckles and tell him how good of a husband he’s been

Malleus Draconia

“I’ve misjudged you…I’d appreciate if you returned home now.”

It's a wake-up call to have you laugh in his face when he says this

Usually, any protests would be met with his immense strength and magical prowess

But too bad his grandmother set him up with someone of near equal standing even worse better you seem to have been training

It was a past time for you as you moved into a non-descript village

All to retreat from a spouse obsessed with the first human to express any interest in him

Now forget all the times you attempted to converse with him or let him ramble about gargoyles

Only to be ignored or spat at for imitating his ‘child of man’

Well if he liked them so much he shouldn’t have minded when you wordlessly took a hiatus from the kingdom

No one seems to miss you, your presence is filled by the buzz of a human being around

But when that human leaves for home or turns in to achieve that sleep they so desperately need

He misses you

Finds even he unexpectedly snaps when his best friend reaches to sit in your chair

What strange magic…for him to wish you were present

He finds you easily 

And is surprised when you wretch in disgust when he arrives

And if you’ve taken a guardian role to some poor orphan child they copy the behavior

Constantly reminding him of your supposed dislike 

He’s not fond of this version of you at all

So he lingers like a dog kicked outside

Watching from a close distance as you live your new life

Sparking something in him as he finds you absolutely alluring at every angle

Suddenly that human’s pleas for his return become the static of something irritating

He needed you to come back and if a distraction was what was stopping you then so be it

But you’re so empathetic they might prove themselves useful as the king’s bargaining chip

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #yandere leona #yandere leona twst #yandere leona kingscholar #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere x reader #yandere leona x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *26*

In one moment everything was good. His parents accepted him as Phantom and were actively reworking their theories. In the next moment he felt like his core was about to shatter in millions of little pieces. His parents, sisters and friends died.

The explosion happened, even though it had been a different day, different circumstances and different reason. They wanted to celebrate his death day, to show him that they cared.

He was in so much agony from losing his fright, that he saw them to late. The Guys in White captured him, before he was even able to transform.

He never got an answer to how they knew he was Phantom, because ecto-scum didn't deserve anything.

Danny didn't know how long he had been there, only that they started to get careless. The GiW wanted to transport him to a new facility, but something happened outside and the Van had to stop.

The agents with him left him alone to deal with what ever had coursed the disturbance and he took his chance.

The door was unlocked.

The door was open.

He bolted.

He wasn't able to use his powers at the moment, because of the bracelet that contained them, but there was enough chaos for him to slip away, even locked into his human form.

After a good distance he looked down on himself. He wasn't wearing anything meant for the streets, just a fully covering medical gown.

So he started to look around the ally and he was lucky. In one of the dumpsters was some kind of costume. It seemed like a Halloween costume, but it was better than nothing.

He looked at it and deemed the Robin Costume a good fit and quickly changed in it. He even found the mask and shoes after some digging!

In his full Robin Costume he hurried to get further away. But luck was never on his good side, so it didn't take long for a rough looking agent to find him.

It only took one small shot out of the agents ecto-gun for Danny to crumble to the floor. And a few seconds later he felt fists and insults hitting him.

And maybe it was the lack of sleep, the loneliness, the pain or a combination of everything. But he knew that the only thing he wanted right now, was his Dad to save him and give him one of his world famous bear hugs.

And even though Danny knew that his Dad was gone, he couldn't hold his cries for his Dad in any longer.

"d-DAD!"

It only took a few seconds before the agent was flying away from him and Danny was lifted in the air, swinging up

"Robin, are you oka-? You are not Robi-. Are you okay chum?"

#skylers prompts #dcxdp #dcxdp prompt #dpxdc #don't tag the danny phantom fandom #bruce wayne #reveal gone right #nasty burger explosion #GIW #Danny is sobbing in a very confused Batmans arms #yes Bruce absolutely bodied the agent thinking one of his sons needed him #I'm not sure who would be the current Robin #but it doesn't really matter #when one of Bruce's kids calls Dad in a fight he will go feral #and yes the GIW was in some sort of villains attack #probably poison ivy

[steddieas-shegoes]

sounds like a date

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is sharing food' rated g | 743 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Can I have a fry?" Eddie asked with his mouth half full of the last fry he'd stolen off Steve's plate.

"Why didn't you just get your own fries?" Steve asked, handing him a fry from his plate.

"Because I only wanted a couple and you always share with me," Eddie shoved the fry into his mouth.

That was true; Steve always shared his food when they were having their usual date night at the diner. In fact, he pretty much only got fries because he knew Eddie would want some.

He preferred just eating his turkey club sandwich and smiling over at Eddie who always ordered two milkshakes because he could never decide on a flavor, a cheeseburger, onion rings that he complained were soggy every time, and a chef salad for balance.

Eddie never finished his food, or the milkshakes, but he always finished Steve's fries.

So it became an unspoken routine, something Steve wasn't even sure Eddie noticed even after months of doing it. Robin said he was a sap for doing it, but he didn't care.

"How's the chocolate shake?" Steve asked as Eddie dipped another stolen fry into it. "Good with the fries?"

"Yeah, but the strawberry is better. They didn't add extra chocolate syrup this time," Eddie half-pouted, as if he didn't complain about their lack of chocolate in the chocolate shake every time he ordered it.

"Can I have a sip of your Coke?" Eddie asked after another minute of stealing fries from Steve's plate.

Steve wordlessly handed his cup over, surprised it took him this long to ask for it. He usually asked way before he'd even started on the fries.

Eddie, as expected, took a few large sips, almost draining the rest of the drink.

"Why doesn't the waitress ever bring us napkins?" Eddie asked as he set the cup back down in front of Steve.

Steve handed him one of the napkins he'd grabbed from the table they passed on the way to their own. The waitress did always forget to bring them, so Steve prepared.

"You're so good to me," Eddie smirked, brushing his foot against Steve's ankle under the table.

Steve was pretty sure the waitress knew what was going on between them and just hadn't bothered to say anything, and the rest of the diner was empty. Their date night was pretty late, right after Eddie's Hellfire night with the kids that always seemed to go longer and longer. It was damn near midnight now, most of the town in bed, the rest up to no good somewhere else.

It was peaceful, being here with Eddie like this.

It was a look at a future they could have, at least a version of it, though neither of them planned on staying in Hawkins forever.

Steve slid his plate of the few remaining fries over to Eddie and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Finish 'em. I'm done."

"You didn't even eat any," Eddie pointed out before grabbing another one.

"Wasn't that hungry, I guess."

"Mhm," Eddie smirked knowingly, but didn't comment further.

"All set for the bill?" The waitress came by to ask, tapping her pen against the pad of paper. "Who gets it tonight?"

Eddie pointed at Steve, like he did every single week they did this.

Steve took the bill from her hand like he did every single week.

He pulled out his wallet, grabbed the $10 in cash he always kept there for date night, and handed it back to her.

Eddie waited until she walked away to pull out his wallet, grabbing $2 for a tip.

"You know at some point, you may have to actually pay for a date," Steve said as he slipped his jacket on.

"Maybe," Eddie shrugged, like he knew Steve loved paying for their date, made him feel like he could provide. Eddie joked it was his inner caveman. "Maybe I'll just take us on a nice road trip with all this money I'm savin'."

"Oh?" Steve froze.

Eddie looked back at him, beaming smile.

"Yeah. Next month sound good to you? A tour of diners across the midwest. Every night is date night. All my treat," Eddie suggested, like he'd already had this planned for a while. "I'd love to steal your fries in new places, Stevie."

Steve felt himself blushing, somehow always surprised at the lengths Eddie went to to make him feel so loved.

"Sounds like a date."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is sharing food #fluff #established relationship #flirting

[yaksha-lover]

cw: yandere diasomnia x reader, vampire au, horror-esque, blood drinking, captivity, reader is not having a good time and none of them care, minor gore, darker than my usual stuff, so please read at your own discretion!!!

It’s always, always cold in the house.

No matter how many blankets you try to crawl under, the chill never seems to leave you, lurking just to the point of discomfort.

You’ve asked Malleus about it before (he tries to pretend, at least, that he cares about what you want), but he’d only insisted that vampires need the temperature to remain colder. The fact that he’d cooed the words, having you slotted against his chest for warmth, makes it hard to believe him.

Regardless of the truth, the rest of the household would never dare disagree with him.

Sebek is particularly vehement about his distaste for you. Or he had been, until Lilia insisted he have a taste of your blood. Before, he’d pester you, on and on, about your ungratefulness. Like you should be thankful to be forced to stay and be their little human blood bag. He’d turn up his nose at you, insisting that he didn’t know why the others, especially Malleus, took an interest in someone as pathetic as you.

After he’d tasted you, Sebek no longer complained about your lack of specialness. How could he, when he seemed so fixated on getting more of your blood? He still grumbled that you didn’t appreciate Malleus, but any real exasperation was gone. Why argue with you, when he could be sinking his teeth in instead? For how much he insisted he didn’t care for you, Sebek was perhaps even needier than Malleus. He always insisted on sharing a kiss before he took your blood; said he was ‘traditional,’ like that.

Silver was, by far, the kindest, and that only made things worse. It was hard to hate him, with how he took care of you, cleaning you up after a particularly relentless day of having your blood taken. He seemed to be the only one aware that humans had needs, thus he was the one to prepare all your meals and rub salve into the bite marks and bruises that littered your body.

He would also be the one to ask the others to give you time to recover, to let your body heal in between bites. They, of course, listened to Silver, despite the fact that you’d been saying the same thing for weeks before. It didn’t matter; if push came to shove, he would do what his family asked, regardless of what it meant for you.

Perhaps he didn’t partake in the same hedonistic activities as them, but he wasn’t any less complicit in keeping you trapped in the house. You suspected he took a certain kind of pleasure in caring for you, which made it a little less than the noble act you had once believed it to be.

Lilia was, perhaps, the worst of all.

Malleus was driven by his loneliness, Sebek by his desperation, and Silver by his need to care for something small and pitiful. Although they rarely squabbled, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say they didn’t particularly enjoy sharing you with each other.

Sometimes, Silver would keep you tucked away in his own bedroom, at the insistence that you needed time to rest from the vampiric attention of Malleus and Sebek.

Malleus, himself, often dismissed Silver and Sebek with an offhanded remark about needing ‘alone time’ with you; they never argued as he’d steal you away to spend hours in his own private chambers.

Sebek, although he denied it, quite enjoyed the days where everyone else had business to attend to and he was left behind to ‘care’ for you; it was nice to be able to keep you tucked away in his arms after he was done having his fill of your blood, instead of having you be taken away at Silver’s insistent need to nurse you back to health. It surprised you, the first time, when Sebek himself had returned with treats and supplies to clean your wound. He put on such an act of disregard when everyone else was around, but he took care of you if Silver wasn’t there.

You had to walk on a tightrope of sorts with Malleus, in order to avoid upsetting him, but he was also pitiable in a way. You understood what he wanted from you. The same could be said for Sebek and Silver. Though you still hated them for it, you did understand them in a way. They were driven by their feelings; of love, of affection, and of loneliness.

You’d been the first human they got to stay, even if it wasn’t by choice.

Lilia ensured that. He wasn’t driven by his feelings, at least not toward you. No, he pushed you into the younger vampires’ arms, like a sacrificial lamb of sorts. He knew what it meant, what they were doing to you. For him, you guessed, it was worth anything, including your freedom, to see them happy.

For Malleus, drinking your blood meant sharing a close act of intimacy in whatever relationship he thought you shared.

For Sebek, drinking your blood meant satiating a temptation, in both senses, which endlessly gnawed at him; like a wolf who finally catches a rabbit.

The only time Lilia ever bit you was in punishment.

He was much more in control of himself than even a mature vampire like Malleus; blood lust never overtook him, even when you knew he hadn’t drank in a few days.

His interest in you seemed purely adjacent to those of his kin; you were simply a means to an end for him, rather than any sort of person worth considering for your own sake. In a way, it was nice to have one person in the house who wasn’t strangely obsessed with clinging to you or taking your blood incessantly.

It wasn’t so nice when you angered him.

Lilia was normally so carefree that the first time you’d seen his stare go cold - when you tried to run away - it rooted you in place. At least when you frustrated Malleus with your lack of reciprocity, his affection for you stopped him from ever truly harming you.

Lilia had no such objections. When he was finally done toying with you, letting you think you had a chance at escaping, he’d pinned you down in the forest outside the house and bit you for the first time.

The pain of it made you realize just how gentle Malleus and Sebek truly were with you. It seared and ached, like your skin was being ripped apart and a venom was decaying your flesh from the inside. Your limbs were sore beneath Lilia’s body pinning you down, and every shift against you was like tweaking a raw nerve.

The pain had gotten too much and at some point, you’d passed out, only to awaken back at the house.

Lilia had only grinned at you, insisting you keep your little discretion between you and him.

You wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, after all.

#tw: yandere #please take the warnings seriously !! #twst x reader #malleus x reader #sebek x reader #silver x reader #lilia x reader #malleus draconia x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #silver vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere sebek zigvolt #yandere silver #yandere lilia #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #twst #twisted wonderland

[atlaswav]

FIRESIDE ✦

INFO: atla jet x gn! reader drabble, 1.4k words...... (bad writing i'm not proud💀) SYNOPSIS: you're the damsel in distress that falls for your saving grace. or: delusion WARNINGS: tiny bit of blood AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read (it wasn't supposed to be this long), I wrote this post without making it a proper fic to make up for the lack of jet fanfictions anywhere please take my contribution 😞 listen to fireside by the arctic monkeys 👍

You're a travelling merchant dealing in handmade weapons. Your craft is passed down in your family, and you recently left your hometown on your own for the first time to travel to Ba Sing Se to make a living there.

The day you two first met, you'd been on your horse all day, dragging behind you a creaky stand containing your life’s worth of materials and weapons (rattling with each step – it was beginning to grate on your nerves) with no signs of the glaring sun easing on your weary limbs. So when the forest suddenly falls far too silent for your liking, you don’t even notice in your heat stricken malady.

It’s only when a group of bandits abruptly seizes the reins of your horse, sawing loose your saddle straps when you realise you’re under attack. But by then, they’re already beginning to rifle through your belongings as you fall unceremoniously onto the hard dirt path, wincing as a bandit grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you up. 

You reach for the sword at your belt – the one that you crafted yourself under the guidance of your father once he’d deemed you skilled enough – but you didn’t even need to draw it before a bird call sounded amidst the cacophonous riot.

Emerging from the thick treeline, a band of – kids? Jumped out, wielding perilously sharp and comically large weapons for their ages and sizes. The bandits scoffed at their appearance, brandishing their vicious looking blades at the children who charged at them. 

Then the vice-like grip on your shoulders eased, and a hand appeared in the peripherals of your vision.

As you took the hand being offered – calloused and rough, yet warm – your saviour gave you a cursory glance, checking you for injury. When he finally met your gaze, you both froze in place.

Warm eyes, tanned skin, dark, unruly hair that loosely framed his face. In his other hand he held two long, hooked swords that gleamed in the harsh light. 

Jet couldn’t tell whether you were simply shocked or there was something wrong – either way, there was a fight surging around you, and there was no time for greetings and formalities.

(if you looked for any longer, you’d have seen the slight blush dusting his cheeks)

“Behind,” You had no time to process his meaning before he stepped in front of you, meeting the serrated blade of the bandit with his own weapons in a deafening clash of steel. You quickly drew your sword and slashed at the arm of another bandit whose club soared a high arc above Jet’s head, eliciting a howl of pain as they dropped the club onto the ground and scrambled for the trees.

You two seemed to make a pretty good pair. 

After the dust had settled, he offered you his flask of water, chest heaving, hair clinging to his forehead with perspiration, with a grin playing across his face.

“Thank you.” You take it, drinking your fill before capping the container. “But who are you?”

“We’re the freedom fighters.” His companions wave at you as they attempt to salvage the wreckage of your goods (which you supposed you should’ve also been doing, but you’d had a long day).

“And you?”

“They call me Jet.” he smiles, a glint in his eyes. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

I hate myself for writing that line but I can’t think of another thing for him to say

Anyway time skip a little, he showed you to the freedom fighter’s hideout, and you decide to pay them back for saving you by giving their weapons a little maintenance

They offer you further kindness by inviting you to stay for dinner, to which you accept – what choice did you have after the bandits spoiled most of your food on the ground?

You sharpen some swords, polish some daggers, and share a meal with the ragtag freedom fighters around the fire, laughing along with crude jokes shared about clumsy bandits. 

Then Jet comes up to you with his hooked swords hanging loosely from his grip – offering them to you for maintenance – and your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” You observe the craftsmanship of his swords, testing their balance, running your finger along the blade’s hooked ends.

“Pretty neat, huh? They’re Tiger Blades. Traditional weapon.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Stole it from a firebending soldier.”

You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “You fight off firebending soldiers regularly?”

A grin. “When the job calls for it.”

“That’s not… dangerous?”

“You’ve seen me fight, haven’t you?”

In the firelight, his eyes are alight with molten gold. 

“So your job isn’t just saving random people from bandits?”

He laughs, and the sound fills the air between you with warmth. 

“I wouldn’t say you’re a random person,” you look up, but his gaze is cast into the fire, unreadable. 

When he doesn’t say anything further, you sustain the silence, only rummaging through your bags to find another stone to sharpen his blade with before the thought occurs to you. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I’d rather not try to sharpen this blade. I don’t know how.” you attempt to hand it back, but he stops you.

“I can show you,” he leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air, watching you with a certain hopefulness in his eyes.

You nod wordlessly, and you hand him the stone, watching him tie his hair up. His brows furrow as he angles the blade, quickly running the stone along its edge. But you can’t focus on the blade – not really – as the firelight illuminates his features, basking them in a soft glow. 

“It’s not that hard – well it won’t be, for someone as experienced as you.” 

You’re grateful for the dim light, or he would’ve seen the blush highlighting your cheeks. 

“You just guide the stone along the edge as usual,” he absently says under his breath, “and use more force here.”

You nod blankly as he turns back to you, handing you the blade and the stone. 

“There you go.” 

You move to grab the handle of the blade, but your finger catches on its edge, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you lick the blood off your finger, wincing slightly as it rapidly flows out. 

“Sorry, I –”

“No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t careful.” you shake your hand, grimacing at the throbbing pain. 

“Smellerbee, could you fetch the bandages?”

“What? Why me?”

“Just – do it. Please.”

Smellerbee grumbles something under his breath as he leaves.

You nurse your injured finger as it pulsates, face drawn in pain.

“You have a little something –” 

“Huh?” your gaze flickers between him and your finger, unsure of what he means. 

“Here,” his fingers graze your chin as he wipes off blood from your face – from the initial injury, when you tried to lick up the blood from your wound. 

Your face heats up as his touch lingers, skimming across your chin to your cheek. 

He’s utterly captivated, it seems. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

He snatches his hand away with a look of guilt, and you turn away. “Ah. Smellerbee.”

“...I’ll leave the bandages here.”

“Thanks.”

“.........Don’t mention it.”

He bandages your finger with deft movements. Neither of you speak a word, but nothing needs to be said. The tension between you is electric, and any onlooker can tell with a mere glance (especially after Smellerbee went and groaned about the two of you to Pipsqueak and Longshot).

After he bandages your finger, he gets up from his place at the fire. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” 

You nod.

“Smellerbee will show you to your tent.” your disappointment must be visible on your face, because he huffs a laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t. I have duties to attend to. But you’ll be here for breakfast, right?”

You nod. He seemed to have that speechless effect on you.

“Right then, uh, goodnight.” he smiles, appearing to hesitate for a moment before walking off. 

“You guys are gross.” Smellerbee mutters from beside you. 

“What?”

“Gross. Look at what you do to him. And don’t you give me that clueless look or I swear.”

Neither of you could sleep that night.

(but when you woke up there was a bright basket of fresh berries arranged with little flowers throughout it at the door of your tent. You can only wonder who sent it, and why there was a note reading “sorry about your finger, please let me make it up to you.”)

written by @atlaswav, published 3rd of March 2024

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla live action #avatar the last airbender live action #jet atla #atla jet #jet x reader #jet drabble #it wasn't supposed to be this long #sebastian amoruso #sebastian amoruso is so MMHMETJAFK #jet #☁️. writing

[prettyboytsum]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ day off I nanami kento pairing: nanami x reader tags: slice of life (maybe part of the series?), fluff, (no beta, we die like men) wc: 1,005

nanami kento doesn’t have days off.

ever.

in fact, nanami is the ideal employee, as per his (less than empathetic) bosses. he’s always punctual—clocking in at the exact time or ensuring he’s five minutes early to meetings. he’s reliable—even if the assignment was given the night before, rest assured he’ll have it done without working overtime. nanami has never requested for a day off—not for his birthday, not for meet-ups with friends, and not for special dates with you. he delivers the results necessary but rarely lacks or goes above and beyond.

it helps that he has a schedule. up at the crack of dawn—with only one alarm to wake him from his restful slumber. breakfast, a shower, and coffee all in an hour before he’s giving you your usual morning kiss and a reminder about your date that evening.

so, on one of the rare days that you aren’t needed in the office, and the chirping of birds or the slow sway of the sunlight doesn’t wake you up—an unusually warm body beside you does. you almost jump, this couldn’t possibly be your beloved. you half-expected to be able to spread yourself all over the bed for the morning, only to be denied when a lean body hits against your arm.

you groggily open one eye but your brain quickly works overdrive.

”don’t—don’t kidnap me,” you slur, sitting up quickly as you realize that there’s an arm around you. you rub your eyes, tripping over your words before you can muster up a more intimidating way to threaten this intruder. which, in retrospect, you don’t imagine to be very intimidating with your morning hair and nanami’s shirt as your pajamas dressing you. “’s not nice—i know a cop.”

”you do?” a voice responds, awfully familiar but you don’t let yourself get too comfortable. your eyes squint at the sunlight when you hear a gruff continuation. “i didn’t know any of our friends worked for the precinct.”

our friends? what type of friends could you even share with a—

you blink once. twice. before a realization dawns on you—one that swirls confusion, which seems to be a pre-requisite to the budding hope spreading throughout your chest.

”kento?” you ask, sitting a little straighter as you look at the space beside you. alas, your fiancé, in all his glory. nanami’s blonde hair sprawled over the white pillows, a mess before the usual pristine styling. his posture is relaxed, an arm resting behind his head as he looks at you with an amused expression, one that sits behind morning sleepiness that you haven’t been familiar with. not when he’s always the one to wake up. it doesn’t help that he’s topless. you find it a little unfair that he’s this attractive right after waking up.

”g’morning, darling.”

”good—good morning?! do you know what time it is?!” you splutter, looking at the bedside clock. of all your years of knowing him, nanami has never been late. you can’t help but think that tonight might be the first time he’s broken a global record.

you might have to start celebrating this milestone yearly.

”ten thirty-nine?” he muses, the amusement no longer hidden behind the usual morning grogginess. you look at him like he’s grown a third head.

”ten—ten?! kento, it’s way past your hours—”

”i know.”

”you know?! but you’re sitting here like you have a calvin klein shoot—”

”i took the day off.”

”you did what?!” you exclaim, almost as if you’ve heard the most absurd news of your life. to an extent, you kind of just did. “are you sick?”

”not that i know of, no, love,” nanami asks, now genuinely confused at your reaction. any other lover would celebrate a day where they could spend time together; a cafe, a slow day in, anything really. he finds your reaction amusing—and slightly disheartening. “is there a problem?”

there’s a silence as you soak it all in. a day. where nanami kento has willingly decided to not go to work. you can’t possibly fathom a reason why he isn’t clocking in his office with the most uncomfortable chair known to man. surely, there’s paperwork that nanami can’t miss out on—or so he claims every time you grumble about him leaving so early in the morning.

”problem? no. irregularity? yes.” you respond, finally shifting in the bed to turn to properly face him. he’s propped up by his arm—looking far too handsome for a man who just left his company in shambles (he didn’t). “you’ve never taken a day off.”

a pause as nanami thinks before he shrugs. “i guess i haven’t. there’s never been an urgent reason to file for one.”

"oh, and my—”

”yes, darling, your morning pouting is not categorized as urgent.” he responds, biting back an amused smile as you immediately let a huff out. the familiar jut of your lips only entertaining him further. “but it did do a number on me. i thought to take a day off so we could spend time together.”

you squint your eyes in response—almost accusingly as you cross your arms. he lets out a chuckle—a little rough with morning sleepiness but it’s attractive nonetheless. there’s a set of arms that wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re practically on his lap. nanami’s chin rests on your shoulder, your back to his chest as he keeps his arm around your middle.

”so suspicious? just cause of my day off?” he whispers into your ear, planting a kiss on your shoulder. your heart stutters. “had the whole day planned out, princess.”

there’s a familiar giddy feeling that spreads through your chest—a familiar sensation when it comes to being around nanami. one of his hands interlocks with your left, his fingers playing with the stone he bought you a couple of weeks ago. a promise for a lifetime together—and an unforgettable wedding, he assures you.

”i’m marrying you after all, it’s only right that i want to spoil my wife.”

✩ author's note: i need him in ways that are concerning to feminism. i need him with me. ⓒ prettyboytsum 2024. all works are posted under this account on tumblr.com and are protected by copyright laws. do not plagiarise these works on any other platform or account.

#₊˚⊹♡₊ luna writes #jjk #jjk hcs #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #nanami kento #jjk fic #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you

[sevencolorsatlast]

Archons Reacting To Their Creator Singing Pt. 2

Part 1 [Venti, Zhongli, Ei and Nahida] || Part 2 [Furina] (You're Here!)

Author's Note: 4.2 Update Spoilers! You've been warned! Song used: "Curses" by The Crane Wives. No beta, we die like my heart while playing this quest.

Update: I changed the verse weeee. Also corrected a couple of mistakes.

Content Warning(s): None.

Other Notes: Default SAGAU / GN!Reader / Drabble / 800+ Words / Ao3 Link

[ Furina ]

"There's still cobwebs in the corners

And the backyard's full of bones

Won't you stay with me, my darling

When this house don't feel like home?"

You came down from the heavens weeks ago, knowing Fontaine is in danger but kept your head low and disguised yourself as a Fontainian to seek solutions to their prophecy. No one suspected you aside from the Vision wielders and a few Guardes who eventually left you alone since you seem to be harmless. You also manage to avoid any unpleasant encounters with your followers while roaming around the city.

Visiting Focalors in the opera house when no one was around was... rather an eventful one; she hopes you do not intervene with her plans to save her beloved people. You tried to reason with her: you are her god — you can forgive her and her people but she says it is her duty as Hydro Archon as prophecies cannot be changed. To pursue "justice", so to speak, is via the death of her and her throne.

You no longer attempt to pursue the topic which Focalors tacitly appreciates. Instead, you promised to look after her "human" self... Furina.

She smiles ever so graciously, knowing that such a divine being like you would keep Furina safe and sound - even after she meets her fate. You ask if you can hug Focalors, she happily accepts as this will be your first and last meeting her. You give most of your strength to hug her and you pull away, saying your tearful goodbye.

Everything went down according to her plan; watching scenes unfolding right before your eyes. Furina's trial was heart wrenching to watch, you want to jump and defend her... but this was all part of her "divine" self's plan. You shouldn't interfere, you reminded yourself, you clench your fists as the last puzzle of the prophecy reveals itself in front of you and the rest of the audience.

After the flooding in Fontaine died down and you let weeks pass by to let the country recover, you sought out Neuvillette. He is surprised to see you, easily seeing through your disguise. He bows before you and airs his concerns about Furina who had moved away from Palais Mermonia. You gently grab his hand and hold it in-between yours, telling him to stand up. You reassure that you'll be discreetly visiting Furina and the Hydro Sovereign gives you the address on where she currently lives.

During sunset, you found Furina cooped up in her new home. You knock and it took her a while before peeking through the small gap of the door. To put it lightly, her place is in disarray even when the gap of her door is small — her things are littered on the floor and she... doesn't look too good. She is far from well-presented and she looks like a ghost.

You can tell her eyes are red from crying and lack of sleep is evident on her unusually pale face. Her once kept hair's a mess and her clothes aren't well-presented like they usually do. Her hat is also nowhere to be found, it must've been included in the pile of mess scattered about her floorboards.

She weakly asks who you are and tells you that she doesn't accept visitors. You look around, making sure no one is around to see your transformation. Once you know the coast is clear, you transform into your normal self; soft glow emanating from your skin.

Once you are done dusting off your robes, Furina suddenly pulls you into her home and slams the door behind her - stuttering "Your Grace" under her breath and muttering how she's embarrassed that she's in a mess.

You turn around to speak and, instead, you are met with a tight hug from Furina. She buries her head into your shoulder and clutching onto your robes.

She doesn't understand why you hadn't come down from the heavens sooner... and you tell her Focalors wanted to do her part while you witnessed everything. She remained silent for a while before letting out a few sobs. You finally let your arms wrap around her; like a parent hugging their long-lost child.

To calm her down, you sing a song you know from the depths of your heart; the one that is ingrained to the forefronts of your mind even as a child. You alternate between singing and humming while gently running your hand up and down on Furina's back.

Her sobs subside as the last lyric of the song leaves your lips. She wipes her tears away with her hands and regains her composure. She pulls her head away from your shoulder, her eyes yet to look at your direction.

"My apologies for seeing me in such a state, Your Grace." She says, her voice slightly above a whisper, "And ...That's a wonderful song you've sung. I... appreciate it..."

She sniffles; it reminded you when you were a kid. You smile at the fond memory.

"The song was sung to calm me down by my caretakers." You say, "I suppose it still holds its charm."

She lets out a weak chuckle and meets your eyes, "I... Thank you, Your Grace."

"For what?" You inquired despite knowing the answer. She pulls you into another hug, you could've sworn you had seen her genuinely smiling for the first time.

"For being here with me." She says, a small spark of joy coming from her voice, "For seeing the 'real' me."

As she hums your song, you hold each other close until the sun finally sets from the horizon.

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact spoilers #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #furina #furina sagau #neuvillette #neuvillette sagau #focalors #focalors sagau #once again i've used the word 'eyes' like i did with the previous archons lezgoooo #seven's tag #500

[samkerrworshipper]

asthma attacks | leah williamson x reader

based off a req that i got asking for soft boyfriend leah looking after a sick reader!

just a little drabble that’s just some sickness angst and heart warming fluff

Leah was out for the night. Out with Kim and Lia at some music event that they had decided to go to together. It wasn’t abnormal, Leah was out most weekends, with Alex or teammates. You weren’t a partier, you didn’t enjoy being out and about, you were a practised introvert whereas Leah was not. Normally you were fine with it, insisting to your fiance that she go out and enjoy herself, you enjoyed spending your Saturday night’s on your shared couch, digging into a tub of ice cream and watching whatever trashy reality show you could find.

Tonight though everything had felt off, there had been a sudden change in the weather in London, a sunny day now having a storm loom over the skies. It had put you off, but you hadn’t let it show enough for Leah to catch on, you wanted her to have a good night and you knew that if she was worrying about you she never would. So like normal, you helped her select her outfit, opting for a brown leather pair of slacks and a white v-neck shirt that matched up nicely with a black coat. She looked stunning and you made her aware of it, showering her with kisses and stray arms as she made her way out of the door, promising she’d be home by ten.

You’d started your night by ordering pizza, but you couldn’t shake the feeling in your chest, the slow tightening. It was something you’d never experienced and you shook it off as it just being anxiety. You got your blanket fort ready on the couch, prepared to sit in and watch the episodes of The Real Housewives and clicking play. You pressed pause on the show when you heard the sound of your delivery man at the door, leaping out of your blankets and walking towards your door. You cursed when you realised that your wallet wasn’t at the door, remembering that you had taken it upstairs earlier. You rushed towards your staircase, ignoring the feeling of tightness in your chest as you bounded up the stairs, ignoring the lack of oxygen you seemed to have once you made it to the top, ignoring it and rushing towards your bedroom. It took you hardly any time to track down your wallet, you fished out a series of bills, enough to pay for your food and tip the driver generously, you couldn’t help but feel the oxygen in your lungs, or the lack thereof. You ignored it. Rushing to the door in a haste so as to not leave your delivery man waiting any longer, there was this clench across your torso though that was so sudden and so unexpected. You shoved the money towards the man, quickly trading the pizza box with the cash so you could close the door.

You knew this feeling. In all honesty you hadn’t felt it in too long, a bit too long to send you into some false sense of security but now it was all coming into focus for you. You slid down onto the floor of your house, your lungs no longer being able to support you standing up. You dropped the pizza box to the side of you, your arms clutching at your chest, as you wheezed and struggled for air. You should have known when the storm warnings came, should have known to have your puffer on hand. You were royally fucked now, the all so familiar asthma attack beginning to take a toll on your body.

You reached into the pocket of your lounge pants, fumbling around with the buttons as your vision began to blur from the sheer lack of oxygen that was entering your body. You struggled with the buttons, clicking on the phone one and stumbling through your contacts until you managed to find your girlfriend.

You clicked on her name, praying that she would pick up. The only puffer’s that you had lay in your medicine cabinet and bedside table, for the odd panic attack that you would sometimes procure in your sleep, that often had you barreling into an asthma attack.

You listened carefully to the sound of ringing, cursing in your head when the sound of Leah’s voicemail began to play, her voice did wonders to soothe you but once it was over you couldn’t help but feel overwhelming dread. You scrolled frantically, your hands shaking as the searched for someone else, eventually locating Kim’s number and pressing on it, she was your last hope.

You listened dutifully to the sound of the phone ringing, listening as it slowly began to ring out and ust as you were losing hope the sound of music started to bleed through your speaker.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

You wheezed as you sucked in the oxygen to speak.

“A-Asthma attack, n-need Leah.”

You heard Kim swear under her breath, her deep Scottish accent being portrayed in her words. You could hear her yelling at Leah on the other side of the phone, clearly trying to get the attention of your girlfriend. It took some more yelling and bustling for Leah’s voice to finally meet your ears. You were exhausted, your breaths becoming even harder to take with every second.

“Baby, are you alright? Have you got a puffer?”

You gulped, again taking your time to suck in the oxygen so you could reiterate what was happening to Leah.

“N-No, s’ upstairs, c-can’t breathe.”

You heard Leah take a deep exhale on the other side of the phone, and then yell something out to one of her companions.

“Okay, okay, stay on the phone with me. I’m leaving now, I’ll be home soon, we’re only five minutes away. Just keep talking to me okay.”

You nodded at the phone, the realised that Leah couldn’t see you.

“F-forgot about the s-storm.”

It was true, even though you knew it was one of your triggers it had managed to completely slip your mind, you had been too focused on the obscenely sudden change of weather to think about how it could affect you.

“I know baby girl, it completely slipped my mind as well, just keep taking those deep breaths, blow the candles out remember. I’m going to be home soon, just keep blowing out the candles.”

You nodded into the phone, trying your very hardest to obey Leah’s wish and take the breaths that she had told you too. It wasn’t easy, but you tried your very hardest to allow the oxygen to reenter your body, only for it to be taken away by the tightening in your chest and the wheezes that left your lungs with every little breath you tried to take. You need your puffer, and soon, before you lacked so much oxygen that you passed out.

Leah stayed on the phone with you, murmuring reminders to breathe and other similar advice that was nice but didn’t do very much to calm the struggle that you were having. You made sure to murmur to her every once in a while, reminding the woman that you were still alive.

“Y/n/n, keep blowing the candles out, you're doing so well for me sweet girl, you’ve got this, just keep taking those deep breaths.”

Your head was clouding over with a haze, something you recognised as a symptom of your oxygen deprivation, first came the cloud, then a complete daze and then unconsciousness.

“L-leah, need you.”

Your words were breathy, your lungs struggling to scrap together much more than the half words.

“I know sweet, I’m almost there, just pulling into the driveway now, keep breathing for me.”

You could feel the fog that was plaguing your body begin to thicken and you thanked every god that Leah was close by, that tonight she had opted to keep it local instead of going elsewhere. You listened indepthly as you heard the sound of a car pulling in and fast footsteps making their way across the pavement of your driveway and towards the door.

In the flash of a moment the door was slung open, Leah locating you almost immediately on the floor and crouching down beside you.

“Kim, inhaler, bedside table.”

It was then that you spotted Kim and Lia running in behind her, the three of them about as flustered as flustered could be.

Leah pulled her jacket off, slinging the far to large coat over your nearly bare shoulders, the only thing covering your chest being one of your pyjama tank tops. Your body was shivering wildly, with the lack of everything beginning to truly affect your form.

“Hey, hey honey, look at me, keep blowing out the candles yeah? Take those deep breaths for me, Kim’s fetching your inhaler so just hang in for me.”

You nodded at Leah, trying your very hardest to absorb her words and put them into action.

“Lia, wet towel, now.”

Lia nodded, running off towards your kitchen whilst Leah stayed crouched beside you on the floor. It was seconds later that Kim came bounding down your staircase, a inhaler clutched in one of her hands. She threw it to Leah, who caught it with ease and very quickly brought it to your mouth, pressing down on the puffer as to allow you to take in some of the medicine that you so desperately needed. You ran the process a multitude of times, Leah insisted that you take as many puffs of the medication as you were allowed to. As soon as you were done you slumped against Leah, her body coming to rest beside you against the wall of your hallway, slinging her arm around you so she could bring you to her chest, letting you feel her deep breaths and try to copy them.

When Lia returned with the towel Leah pressed it against your head, letting you feel the contrast of the cold. You’d found over time that the cold tended to shock your body into normality, and that sometimes it would assist in helping an attack pass.

It was just a waiting game, waiting for the ventolin to force your lungs to untighten, forcing them to do the job that they were supposed to, that you so wished they would do naturally. Slowly the medication worked, slowly it started to take effect on your body, allowing you to float down from the haze that you’d been in.

“M’ sorry I wrecked your night.”

The other two women had sat themselves down on the wall opposite you two, the two of them sporting equally concerned faces.

“You did no such thing, I should have known that with the storm coming there was a chance you would be affected by it, never should have left your side.”

Leah leant down to your head, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline that lasted for quite a few seconds.

“Ruined your night though.”

It was Kim’s deep Scottish accent that boomed through this time, being the only noise in the hallway beside the sound of your constricted breaths.

“You did not ruin anybody's night, we wanted you to call us, if you ever feel like that we’d want you to call us, you had a asthma attack, a completely human thing that you couldn’t have prevented. All is well as long as you are feeling fine.”

You nodded at Kim, grateful for the smile that the older woman, your captain gave you.

“I’ll be alright now, thanks to you.”

It was true, without the help of the women you would probably be dead, unable to do much more than collapse on the floor of your house and slowly choke on your own breaths.

“It’s no trouble at all, we’re always here to help if you need, we better get going now, keep an eye on this one Lee.”

Kim reached down to ruffle your hair, helping Lia up and the two of them saying their goodbyes before exiting your house.

Leah continued to hold you in her arms as your breaths evened out, slowly returning to normal as the medication began to fully work.

“M’ so sorry sweetheart, I should have known with the storm.”

You shushed Leah’s worries, a hand reaching up to her mouth to stop her from venting.

“Hey, I forgot as well, neither of us are at fault, it happens. Nothing would have stopped it from happening, it just happened to be that tonight you were out, but you were here, you got here and I’m fine, I’m going to be fine.”

Leah nodded at you, leaning down to press another set of kisses to your face, placing them all over your face and forehead before reaching down to peck your lips.

“Never leaving you again, you are going to be stuck at my side forever.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah’s words, knowing that her protective nature would take over for the next two weeks before it faded and she returned to her normal ways.

“I’m going to have to brush up on my dance moves then.”

Leah snorted, knowing that the day she got you out on the dance floor would be a monumental moment for sure.

“Nope, never leaving this house, going to keep you wrapped up in our bed forever, no more risks for you.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah once again, ignoring her frightfully overbearing boyfriend tendencies that seemed to come into play after every single time something happened to you.

“Sounds like a pretty good life to me.”

#woso #woso community #lionesses #leah williamson #leah williamson is boyf #leah williamson is mom #leah williamson is mother #leah williamson x reader #golden retriever leah vibes #i love leah williamson #leah williamson imagine

[itsohh]

The True Ghost

AN: I kept editing this one and I feel like the vibes are a little over the place.

Summary: After getting shot in the head you find yourself not in the land of the dead but stuck in the land of the living without a real form. Unable to interact with anyone, your forced to watch your lovers suffer with your loss.

Word count: 2156

Warnings: MW3 spoilers, angst, canon typical violence, hurt no / little comfort

Masterlist AO3

The twist of your arm, the furious look on Makarov’s face. The shouts that echoed around you, then… nothing. 

You opened your eyes. 

When you sat up you did so with extreme ease, the weight of your body was non-existent. Perhaps that's what it was like on the moon. It was like being submerged underwater but with no force of any tide. 

You looked up from your sitting stare to see your entire team staring at you. “Got something on my face?” You joked but they didn't reply. When had Gaz and Ghost arrived? 

Soap collapsed onto his knees with a choke. He reached towards you but as his fingers were to come into contact with your skin, they phased right through. The warmth of his hand spread through you and you looked down to see what he had truly reached for. 

He had reached for you. More specifically your body. You scrambled to your feet to get a good look. Blood pooled under your head as a lifeless look was frozen on your face. 

“Shit.” You covered your mouth and looked at your team. “Shit!” You were dead? “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Your eyes went to Ghosts and his eyes closed for a second before he placed his hand on Johnny's shoulder, a sombre look in his eyes. 

Price couldn't tear his eyes from you as he radioed in. The call of KIA which confirmed your death. Your hand threaded through your hair and took a few steps away. If you were dead then why were you still there? A fucking ghost. It should have been somewhat ironic but you couldn't bring yourself to laugh. By the obvious lack of other ghosts around, it seemed you were a special case. Was it because you hadn't killed Makarov? Was that your unfinished business? 

The thoughts raced through your mind as you glanced over to see Soap lean over your body and press a kiss against your forehead. His hand shook while he held yours. As you stared at him you realised that his entire body was shaking

“I've got her Johnny.” Ghost's voice was broken, empty and Soap turned to look up at the man. Tears swelled in Soap's eyes and Ghost crouched down next to him. Ghost gently pried Soap's hand from yours and brushed your eyes close. 

If it hadn't been from the hole in your head you could have looked like you were asleep. “I've got her.” Ghost squeezed Soap's hand and the man nodded in return. It took all his strength but he backed away from you and Ghost went to pick up your corpse. 

You didn't know if it was comforting or not that they weren't leaving your body there. It was strange, you were so disconnected from it but at the same time, it was still your body. It was like a childhood home you no longer owned. 

“It should have been me.” Soap muttered as they started to walk and Ghost froze for a second. 

“Don't do that Johnny. Don't do that to her.” 

Soap glanced at Ghost's hardened expression and went silent. 

-

The car ride back was that same prolonged silence. You had sat in your designated spot, at least you had that going for you. With the whole ‘everything passes through you’ situation, you were just glad you didn't have to walk back. 

You watched as Soap entered his room. Not yours, not Ghosts, but his own dorm room. It was a place Soap rarely visited anymore. Ghost’s room had been a sanctuary for all three of you. 

He ripped his gear from his body, his hands shook and he threw it all to the ground. Tears now flowed in free fall and he staggered over to his bathroom where he flicked on the the shower. Soap stepped in immediately, not caring about the cold water. He desperately started to scrub at the skin on his hand even though there wasn't a speck of blood. 

You sat down in the corner and closed your eyes as his sobs started to echo in the room. He swore your name and choked on his tears. 

Eventually, the water turned off and he came out. His eyes were red and puffy while his muscles were dense. Soap's skin was red and raw from scrubbing it too much. He went over to the sink and leaned on his two palms. 

You got up from the floor and went behind him. So desperately did you want to confront him, to hug him, to tell him it was okay. It was an act in vain but you placed a hand on his shoulder. Warm but tense you looked forward and paused at the sight. 

Perhaps it was because you could see yourself but the reflection showed the pair of you. Honestly, you looked terrible. A picture image of the moment you died. Wet blood eternally stuck to the side of your head as your eyes lacked a certain warmth to them. 

A sudden smash came as Soap's fist collided with the mirror right where your reflection was. A fractured spider web formed and a stain of his blood tainted the centre of it. 

You flinched at the moment and covered your gasp with your hand. A choked sound still escaped, not that anyone could hear. You reached on to him as leaned on the sink. 

“Should have bloody fucking let me die.” He growled. “Should have saved herself but she had to play hero. Never seen her do something so stupid-” Soap slammed his bloodied fist down without a care for the pain that it would obviously inflict. 

Would he be the same mess if your position with Simon was flipped?  

His choked sobs came but you didn't attempt to vainly comfort him again. Perhaps Ghost could help- perhaps if you could somehow communicate a way to get your lovers to join hands…

You left Johnny's bathroom and went towards his bedroom door. 

You put your hand on his locked door handle to open it but once again it went right through. Brows furrowed you tried again but this time with a lot more concentration. 

Your eyes widened when it jiggled a bit but the stiff lock was just a little bit too much. With a sigh of frustration, you went to slam your fist on the door but ended up going right through it. With a stumble, you fell forward across the hall into your own room. 

Surprise crossed your face to see Ghost there. His mask off. His eyes were closed and he took deep breaths as if he were meditating. You couldn't help but wonder how long he was there. 

“I'm sorry.” He eventually said, his eyes cast at the ground. “We weren't fast enough and you paid the price.” He let out a deep breath. “I should have known that you would eventually go. But for a moment, I could play pretend.” 

You sat down on the bed next to him. He couldn't see you, he couldn't hear you but you hoped somehow that he knew that you were with him. 

-

Days went past and you saw two events. The official funeral that was done for all operators, a big fancy honourable thing that felt more political than anything. Then there was when they spread your ashes, a more quiet event where they flew to your homeland and did so.

You preferred that one. 

It got a bit boring if you were honest. Most of the time you just walked with anyone who was at base. Normally Ghost or Soap but sometimes it was Gaz or Price. On the odd occasion, it was Kate. You missed Farah and Nik. 

Ghost seemed to spend a lot of time in your room. Soap didn't. Their relationship had certainly suffered because of it. 

s

One night as you watched Ghost leave your room, you heard it. A small buzz. You went over to the nightstand to see your phone exactly how you had left it. It was on charge on the side table. You went to pick it up and surprisingly, it obeyed your command. 

With wide eyes, you slid your finger against the screen and it unlocked. A sound of glee left your lips as you tapped away on it. “My sweet baby boy, you recognise me.” You grinned at the phone. 

Consequences be damned, you hit Soap's name and opened your messenger.

I love you

You sent it without hesitation and as you started to type to Ghost you heard the shout. It was Soap's voice. Uh-oh. You placed the phone down and left your room to see Soap at Ghost's door. His first was raised and banged against the door while his phone was clutched in the other. 

The door eventually swung open and you saw Ghost there peer above Soap. 

“Johnny.”

“What the hell is this huh? Trying to fuck with me with her phone?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Oh cut the bullshite, I know you spend half of your time in her room.” He waved the phone in Ghost's face and grabbed his collar. 

Ghost's brows narrowed. “I know you’re hurting Johnny-”

“Oh that's rich-”

Soap's voice was cut off by Price who had been woken up by the endeavour. 

“The hell is going on?” He barked and walked up to the two men. Price took the phone from Soap and looked at the message. A sigh left Price’s mouth.

“It's probably just a scheduled text message Soap. You know what she was like, always one to think ahead. Probably did it because she knew you well enough to know that you would refuse to watch her recorded messages.”

Soap let go of Ghost's collar and looked down. 

“She loved you, the both of you. She wouldn't want you to fight. I know you're both in pain but you're better off working together not against each other.” He clasped a hand on Soap's shoulder. “If you really hate it that much you could go disable it in her phone. It's probably where she last left it.”

“Passwords 2019.” Ghost finally spoke up. It had been a running thing that you never told Soap your phone password. Something to tease him about. Soap threaded his hand through his hair and nodded. 

“I'll…I'll go check out her phone.” His voice was quiet and then it dawned on you. 

As much as you wanted them to stop fighting, you didn’t want them to take your phone.

You turned on your heel and dashed through your bedroom door. With a snatch of your hand, you took it off the charger and went to put it in your pocket but then paused. It fell to the floor. It seems your pockets didn't work. With a roll of your eyes, you picked it off the floor, climbed onto your bedside table and turned it to silent. You balanced on the table and slid it on top of your dresser. It was tall enough that not even Ghost would be able to see on top of it

Last second you lost your balance and let out a cry as you fell onto to hover awkwardly above the ground. “Guess ghosts can fly after all.” You muttered.

Slowly you lowered your feet onto the ground just in time for Soap to walk into your room. It was the first time since you died. He went to your nightstand only to find it gone. A frown formed on his face and then he went towards your desk. 

He let out a sound of frustration but it was Ghost's voice that filled the air. 

“Can't find it?” 

“Did you take it?” Soap asked

“No. I'll call it for you.” Ghost brought out his phone and started to call your number. Yet it didn't make a sound. Soap stood up and started to walk to the bathroom to look for it. You followed him as he searched under the sink and when he stood up, his eyes made contact with yours in the mirror. 

He didn't say a word. Soap looked away and rejoined Ghost. Just in time to hear your voice through your phone. 

“I'm unable to come to come to the phone right now. Don't leave a message and please send me a text. Thanks!” 

“She probably hid it somewhere.” Soap’s eyes shut. “It's fine. I don't want to be in here.” He pushed past Ghost and left the room.

Pain swelled in your chest. You didn't want to hurt him- either of them. But your phone was all you had. Ghost glanced to the rest of the room and left. The door clicked behind him. 

Slowly you went for your phone again and unlocked it. It was still open on Ghost’s contact. 

You finally hit send. 

A moment later you surprisingly received a reply. 

I love you too.

I miss you

Rest well

#mw3 x reader #mw3 spoilers #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #modern warfare 3 #cod x reader #simon riley #john mactavish #mw2 x reader

[clorindelover]

Playing with their breasts

Navia, Clorinde, Furina x GN Reader

!smut, Minors DNI

Navia

Navia always was open to experimentation, so as long as you took no as an answer when you were going too far, she had no problem with letting you try out new things. It had been this way the first time you tried sliding your tongue into her mouth during a make out session, the first time your hand grabbed one of her breasts and now, as your two pointers slowly but surely made their way towards her erect nipples, was no exception.

When you finally reach them and instinctively start circling and playing with them, Navia can’t help but moan into your kiss, only to feel the corners of your lips turn up. Your fingers trying their luck further almost instantly, causing her mind to get closer to turning blank with each new move you tried.

Who knew this would feel so good?

Clorinde

Clorinde’s breasts were her biggest weakness, and (un)fortunately you knew exactly how to exploit it, the way you turned her into a blushing mess with nothing but your mouth, something she would be embarrassed about if her head was able to think clearly. Her mouth being too busy trying to hold back her moans for her to hold up appearances by reprimanding you for how greedily you sucked on her breasts.

Whenever you squeezed her nipple by taking them in between your teeth, a hot moan escaped her lips, one that you were sure was almost loud enough to be heard by the neighbors, a fact that did nothing but spurn you on, filling you with determination to turn her into a screaming mess.

Furina

The moment your hands grab her breasts, the usually loud and boisterous Archon falls silent, her face growing a tad more red. And while she normally doesn’t pay any mind to how her chest seemed rather lacking compared to some of her retainers, when she’s with you it’s difficult for her to get those thoughts out of her head.

Don’t mention it tho, all it would do is make her fervently deny everything while getting defensive. Just continue what you’re doing and she’ll get into it before you know it, her charade slowly falling apart until she can’t do anything but whimper under your touch, no longer caring about how she looked to you.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #clorinde x reader #clorinde #clorinde smut #navia x reader #navia #navia smut #furina x reader #furina #furina smut

[undiscovered-horizon]

A sharp tongue - Shanks x Reader

SUMMARY: Flyting is the art of exchanging poetic insults. Arriving at a port town, Shanks is willing to face the local flyting champion. But when he finally meets you, it's not insults that come to his mind.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

a/n: it was either Shanks or Nikolai Lantsov

The tavern appeared somewhat rugged and unkept in the low, yellow light of a few candles. They weren’t enough to make all of the interior visible. While most of the tables and patrons sitting at them seemed to disappear in the darkness, the bar counter was like a light in the tunnel; a lighthouse for all those looking for a drink, a good chat or the entrance to the demimonde.

Aisha, a rather frail woman with an ashy skin tone, was drying glasses and cups, humming an old shanty, when the door to the Blue Dragon tavern swung open. Used to the noise of Marines and pirates alike, the bartender only cocked her eyebrow as she watched the men entering her establishment. As the scourge of the seas usually does, the unfamiliar guests looked rough, although Aisha did make a notice of how politely they carried themselves, no matter how strange that might be.

One of the man, with crimson hair and three scars across his face, sat on the bar stool in front of Aisha. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, the sun damage peppering his skin and dark stubble covering his jaw, the man looked kind. Something about the roundness of his shoulders made him appear smaller, more docile.

“Welcome to Kuri Island, where the Devil bids you farewell,” Aisha announced bitterly. God knows how much she wished to dfind herself anywhere ele but home. “What’re you drinking, lads?”

The pirate captain gave her a smile.

“Give us your best rum and whiskey. We’re kind of celebrating.”

“On it.”

Heavy glass bottles clicked brightly as Aisha set them on the counter. The crewmembers snatched their drinks as soon as they could, taking a short break from their merry conversations to give the bartender a grateful nod. Then, they’d disappear into the darkness of Blue Dragon, their hoarse laughter following them like an echo of yesterday’s joy.

The red-haired man did not move from his spot at the counter and neither did any of his crewmen sit beside him. As she was going about her mundane chores, Aisha kept glancing towards the captain. He stared ahead, lost in thought, and peacefully sipped on the dark rum. Thoughtfulness is rarely a characteristic ascribed to pirates. Nevertheless, there he was - a pirate unlike any other.

The second time Shanks talk to Aisha was on his own volition. She was filleting citruses when he leaned over the bar and spoke in a low voice:

“Who’s that?”

Aisha looked in the direction the red-haired pirate pointed out with a sharp, meaningful nod of his head. Her gaze fell on a character she’s grown quite familiar with. Sitting alone at her table, the silent woman played with an old, silver coin that was no longer used. There was a glass in front of her but it was empty now. Low light of a nearly burnt-out candle played a game of shadows on her face, painting her features once terrifying and once divine.

“A flyter,” Aisha answered. Shanks nodded, clearly pondering something. “Best goddamn one in this part of the waters. They call her Snaketongue. I’ll let you guess why. If you’re feeling up for it, you can try to challenge her.”

Shanks looked at the bartender with a confident but curious grin.

“Wish me luck.”

Aisha chuckled.

“Luck won’t help,” she warned him.

The pirate captain took his glass and bottle of rum only to set them down in front of the mysterious woman. She looked up at him with a quietioningly raised eyebrow but Shanks only sat comfortably in his chair. An adventurous glink in his eye and she knew exactly why he had approached her.

“Out flyt will test your speed and wit,” she began while leaning forward, “reveal a shameful lack of grit.”

Shanks picked up the bottle of rum.

“Whether I win or lose this flyt,” he spoke as he poured himself a glass of alcohol, “your company is much delight.”

He winked at her but she only scoffed.

“If delight is what you seek in a flyt, I’m afraid you’ve found yourself in plight.” The woman leaned on her forearms, her fingers intertwined. The small flame of the candle warmed her face but also have her something of a reverse halo - a cloud of darkness crowned her face. “A man must be out of mind, to approach a snake expecting it not to bite. If you’re a pirate without grit, be honest and admit.”

The red-haired pirate did not let himself be left behind. He also leaned forward, a curious shadow prancing across his handome, rugged face as the struggling flame danced between them. The tension between the strangers almost putting it out.

“Why should my forte be grit, if I can’t charm a woman with it?” Shanks asked before taking a long sip of his rum.

“Perhaps you can’t speak rough because your spirit isn’t tough. Or maybe you’re not man enough?”

Shanks let out a raspy laugh.

“Oh, I am a man, no doubt,” he assured with amusement. “Find your proof among this crowd.” In a casual manner, he pointed over his shoulder towards his scattered, jolly crew. “I am the best pirate around.”

“And yet you’re less harmful than a trout. Looking like a wet dog with a pout.” The woman tilted her head, a dangerous glint appeared in her darkened eyes. Something wicked sprouted in her mind. “The ladies in town seem to be in drought. I don’t suppose you know anything about?”

But Shanks didn’t seem to take much offence in your insult at his prowess. His lips curved into a sly smirk.

“As true as your words might be, I fail to see disgust when you look at me. Your pretty eyes are shining bright. You’re starting to like me, am I right?” he asked with raised eyebrows. It seemed that he already knew the answer and just wanted to rub it in, gloat in his triumphant trick.

The woman pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

“Your words are sweet, I’ll give you that,” she said with a sigh. “It’s starting to amuse me, our little chat. Although I’m still waiting for an insult to be spat.”

“Sharp words are not on my mind when your charm made me blind.” His toothy grin is glistening in the low candlelight. “A more enamouring woman I doubt I will find. So, would you be so kind and agree to be dined?”

She bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing out loud. Although she shook her head with disapproval, she was undoubtedly amused with his antics.

“How could such an offer be declined?” she asked. “I’m not sure if you’re terrible at flyting or great.” It was both strange and wonderful to hear her speak naturally. “Despite your avid refusal to actually partake in flyting.”

It seemed she really did want Shanks to be at least a little rude. Having said that, she was still debating whether she should think his refusal tedious or alluring.

“Usually I buy a lady a drink before getting mean with her.”

“Does it work for you?”

“Without fail.”

A moment of intimate yet tense silence falls between them; a quietness reserved for pondering and weighing chances. Should she or should she not?

The woman takes Shank’s bottle of rum and pours some into her glass.

“And so I succumb to a charming pirate and his rum. Who knows, maybe he’ll get to make me…” she cut her sentence short and cleared her throat. “Nevermind.”

But he did mind. God only knows how much he did mind.

#opla #one piece #one piece netflix #live action one piece #opla shanks #one piece shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x you #shanks one piece #shanks x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece imagine #opla fanfiction #opla imagine #opla fanfic #opla fic #shanks fanfiction #shanks fic #shanks imagine #shanks

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [33K] summer camp, a few almost kisses, that friends to lovers shit and your own personal rule: no boys.

I want you to want me. 

The man in front of you seemed stressed. 

The fax machine was whirring, the phone was ringing and there was a large glass jar on the desk that was stuffed full of dollar bills, a faded label on the front that said “therapy kayak money.”

Jim Hopper, your new boss and camp leader, handed you a set of keys and a shirt, sighing as he scrubbed a hand over his moustached face. 

“Michigan? Right?” 

You weren’t sure if the man was asking where you were from or blessing you with a new name because he couldn’t remember your real one. But either way, you nodded. 

“Look kid, I’m sorry but things are crazy here today. The dumbass delivery truck is lost and we’re already a few counsellors down until the road through Martinsville opens back up.”

You raised your brows, confused. 

“Fallen tree,” Hopper waved his hand, “it’s fine. Listen, the campers don’t arrive for another three days anyway. Can you get yourself settled? I’ll find someone to show you the ropes soon, I just gotta answer some calls.”

You nodded again, clutching your faded shirt in your hands. The collar and cuffs matched the same sun bleached green that the word “staff” was printed in and the keys had a tab with “cabin thirty one” attached. 

Hopper must’ve seen your worried face because he sighed again, softening a little despite the way he was desperately shuffling papers and files. 

“You’ll be fine,” the man told you. It was almost reassuring. “The rest of the counsellors are great - well, the majority of them at least. Don’t talk to Billy. Anyway, the kids are easy enough and Bob actually makes some decent food in that old kitchen.”

Jim looked at you with kind eyes and his voice softened even further, despite the way the phone was still ringing. “Grab some breakfast, tell him I sent you, yeah? And take the morning to explore.”

It was alarming, the way you’d found yourself in the middle of Yellowwood State Forest, a whole other state away from home. But after graduating high school almost two years ago with absolutely zero idea of what you were supposed to do next, and an ex-boyfriend you so desperately wanted to avoid, you figured a few months in the wilderness wouldn’t do you any harm. Especially if you were getting paid for it.  

And besides, you were good with children. 

“Welcome to Camp Upside Down, kid, don’t eat the mushrooms,” Hopper smiled somewhat tiredly and then you were on your own. 

Fuck. 

Stepping out of the cabin, the warmth and smell of a new summer washed over you. The forest was quiet in the early morning but still very much alive, soft chirps and buzzes from hidden animals, insects that lurked in the too long grass by the edges of the lake. Something splashed by the dock, and in the distance, you could hear a car approaching, maybe two, one louder than the other. 

The dirt paths were empty, the lack of kids running around making Camp Upside Down seem almost serene. It was still early, the sun a little golden, the sky a little hazy and the light that shone through the tree canopy made pretty dappled patterns on the forest floor. Everything smelled like morning dew, damp grass and tree moss. 

And then your stomach grumbled. Deciding that your bags could stay in your car for a little while longer, you took Hopper’s advice and headed towards what you assumed was the mess hall. The dirt paths led the way through trees, past the unlit camp fire that sat proud in the middle of the forest clearing. 

You could smell coffee as you approached, maybe bacon, some maple syrup too. It cut through the scent of pine and leftover rain but then there was smoke and the familiar smell of weed and then - fuck - the solid frame of someone slamming into you. 

“Oh shit.”

Or did you walk into them? You weren’t sure, but whoever it was had been hiding around the corner you were turning, their back pressed to the old, moss covered wood of an unused cabin. You dropped your keys in surprise, catching your staff shirt before it fell into something that looked more like sludge than mud. 

But the person, the boy, you’d ran into picked up your keys before you could, your eyes a little wild because the forest had been so quiet and you hadn’t expected to see anyone. Not yet. 

“Cabin thirty one?” the boy asked you, holding the silver back out by the keyring. He was smiling, kind, wide, a slow and warm stretch that showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh fuck, he was pretty, and he was a lot more man than boy. 

You took the keys from his hand, smiling in thanks but your breath was stuck in your throat because this guy in front of you was far, far too nice to look at. Dark, messy curls, bangs that were falling into the biggest, brown eyes you’d ever seen. They looked a little soulful, bright, full of mischief and they blinked at you when you didn’t say anything.

“Fuck, thanks,” you managed and then you gestured back to the the corner you’d turned, “m’sorry, I must’ve not been paying attention, I didn’t even s-”

The boy grinned, brushed away your apology with a hand that was still holding a lit joint. He winced and stubbed it out on the side of the cabin, winking at you as he did. 

“Nah, s’fine, don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I was totally lurking. Definitely in places I shouldn’t be.”

He wasn’t wearing a staff shirt, you noticed. Instead, his was black with a band logo for Metallica on the front. The sleeves had been entirely cut off, the sides of the cotton gaping around his waist, tattoos showing through the slashes and there was so much bare skin. 

It didn’t look like a counsellor uniform. Nothing about the way this boy looked like it was by the book. More tattoos littered his arms: some bats, a spider, some kind of dragon, a scary looking puppet. His black jeans were ripped, his belt too long and the end of it hung by his knee. His big boots were creased and worn, black and already layered with mud and pine needles from the forest. 

And then he tucked what was left of his joint behind his ear and he was smiling at you in the softest way; big, brown eyes and dimples too. He suddenly wasn’t as scary as you thought he was trying to be.

“You're the new girl, right?” 

You twisted your lips, nodded, because you had to be right? No one else stood with you at orientation - if you could call it that - and Hopper hadn’t mentioned any other new counsellors. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anyone. 

“I guess?” You replied, smiling a little more warmly when the boy grinned, tucked a curl behind his other ear and shoving his hands in his back pockets. 

His arms flexed and you swallowed hard. 

You told him your name, clutched your keys and your shirt a little closer to your chest because the boy was looking at you with those eyes that seemed to see through your fucking bones. Did you have a soul? You were sure he could see it if you did. 

“I’m Eddie,” he told you, kicking stray rock. Was he blushing? “Eddie Munson, I teach music here.”

“So you do work here,” you squinted at him, eyes narrowed on the slashed up shirt, the ripped denim. “I was starting to wonder if I was just talking to some random dude in the middle of the forest.”

He laughed, tilting his head to look at you, “well that just tells me you’re far too trusting.”

“Or just up for a little trouble,” you replied too quickly. 

His answering grin was nothing short of scandalous. 

“Where’re you from?” Eddie asked, moving in a way that told you he had a problem staying still. He walked into a burst of sunlight that lit the forest floor, came alive under the glow of it, his dark hair turning a little lighter, his pale skin showing a little more signs of being touched by summer. 

“Michigan, a small town you probably wouldn’t have heard of,” you told him. “You from around here?”

“Nah, Philly,” he replied, still smiling at you like he’d found his new favourite thing to do. 

You gasped, all faux shock like you’d stumbled across a celebrity. “Ooh, a city boy, in the woods? Do the papers know?”

Eddie laughed again, a proper, lovely laugh that made your cheeks heat up ‘cause you felt like you’d achieved something. 

He hummed, leaned against the cabin he’d been using for his hiding spot and crossed his arms over his chest. You tried not to stare at the way his muscles moved, or how the collar of his shirt shifted to show off a glinting, silver chain around his neck. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to just touch a tree, you know?” He smiled, almost flirtatiously if it weren’t for the fact his cheeks were rosy and his eyes were downcast shyly. “Plus, my parole officer says I gotta do at least another four summers here.”

“Par- what?” You tried not to let the shock show on your face. You weren’t sure you’d succeeded. “Oh.”

That grin was back, that wide, slow spreading one that showed off the dimple on his right cheek. It made his eyes flash, made them look darker than they were when he stood in the sun and Christ, fuck, he was a menace. 

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh.”

“Or am I?” 

You stood, slack jawed and unsure because this boy was still a stranger and even though he had nice eyes and a pretty smile, you didn’t really know him. 

He must’ve sensed your hesitation though, because he was suddenly stricken looking, curls bouncing as he shook his head at his own last words. “No, no - shit - I really was kidding.”

Maybe it was something in his face that made you believe him, that awfully earnest shine in his eyes. He looked concerned, worried that he’d scared you away so quickly but then you were snorting, not the most attractive sound, but it made the boy light back up. 

He was watching you carefully after that, your little sound of amusement leaving a pretty smile on your lips and he mirrored it, swaying a little on the spot like he was too excited to stay still. Then, a hand, not really offered for you to hold, but a gesture for you to follow him. Silver rings flashed in the sun, skulls and demons and was that a pig? 

It didn’t matter, your feet were moving and you were following him. 

He seemed as surprised as you were, looking over his shoulder at you with a big smile, catching your elbow when you tripped on a root. You would’ve been embarrassed if he didn’t do the same almost five seconds later, both of you snorting as his boots slid on some damp moss. 

“First time at camp?” he asked as a way of distraction, hands shoved back into his jean pockets, like he had to stop himself from reaching out to guide you through the forest.

You nodded, finding your footing with him as he led you onto a narrow pathway, the wooden signposts pointing you both towards the mess hall. 

“Uh, yeah, figured I’d try something new,” you said. 

Eddie grinned like he’d heard that answer before. “What’re you running from?” he asked.

His words made you stop, shoes pushed to the pine needles and you felt a little warm, a little shocked, that he’d figured you out so quickly. And if Eddie sensed your surprise, he didn’t show it, he just leaned up against a tree trunk and waited for you to say something, even if it was to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.

But instead, you shrugged and told him the truth. 

“Tiny town with not much to do and nowhere to go,” you squinted at him in the sun, a humourless smile on your lips. “And maybe some people that get hard to avoid in a place that has a population of like, seven hundred.”

“A boy?” Eddie smiled knowingly. 

“Presumptuous,” you shot back but he saw the heat on your cheeks and the way you stared at the tree behind him. 

“But not wrong,” he countered. That smile was still there. He didn’t push at your silence though, just tilted his head further down the bath and said, “c’mon, trouble.”

“Have you worked here before?” You asked, scrambling to keep up with his long strides. It was obvious from the way he was leading you that he had, but you didn’t know what else to say. You winced in embarrassment. “Of course you have, I meant how ma-”

“This’ll be my fourth,” Eddie told you, putting you out of your misery by ignoring the way your cheeks were warm. “Started off as a lifeguard before I realised I can’t really save myself in the water, never mind some kids, and then Hop let me run my own music workshop instead.”

You were impressed, even though you tried to hide it. “A whole workshop, huh?”

Eddie smiled as he led you round another corner, passing empty cabins that would soon be filled with sticky handed kids. A larger building was finally in sight, with big windows and a pitched roof, a wooden sign with ‘mess hall’ above the door and the smell of fresh coffee coming from inside.

He hummed, a sound of confirmation and as you both strolled towards the hall, Eddie told you all about his job.

“A whole workshop,” he repeated, “I teach guitar, drums, a little piano and I’m working on getting some more percussion stuff in for the kids who are… lacking rhythm.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a percussion girl,” you cracked. “A triangle would be a challenge.”

“I give private lessons, if you need them,” Eddie murmured and you weren’t sure if you imagined the way his voice dropped a little lower, the way he seemed to be looking at you through his lashes. 

You stalled, stumbled, close enough to the mess hall now that you could hear the hushed hisses of coffee machines, the clatter of some dishes. If your cheeks hadn’t been pink before, they certainly were now. You could feel the heat there, a rosy beam you were sure. 

“Uh-”

“Ohmygodno,” Eddie rushed out, eyes wide and hands in front of him, like he was warding off a cornered animal. “No, no! I actually do give lessons. Private lessons.”

You were still staring, lips parted. The whole forest was quiet, like it was listening in too. 

“Guitar.” Eddie’s voice was short. Strained. God, his cheeks were pink too. 

“Oh.”

You were both silent. A beat passed, maybe another, and somewhere above, a bird called out, mocking. It suddenly felt so much warmer than it already had, the sun climbing, Eddie’s eyes trained on your shoulder, too shy to meet your eye. 

The air felt thicker than it should’ve. 

But then the boy was clapping his hands together, the noise sharp enough that it made a squirrel leap from a nearby bush and disappear up a tree. Eddie swung his arms, limbs clumsy, a little on edge and finally, finally, he looked at you again. 

“So, this is the, uh, the mess hall.” He pointed to the sign that said as exactly such and clicked his tongue, closing his eyes in more awkward embarrassment. “Yup.” 

You nodded, clutching your shirt a little tighter in your hand, keys clinking as you have an equally pathetic thumbs up to the boy. “Yeah, that’s great, yeah… thanks, Eddie.”

He clicked his fingers, pointed them at you like a fake gun and then he was groaning, thumbs pressed into his closed eyes as he stumbled blindly away from you. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest, tried to hide it with a twist of your lips but it made your cheeks sore, in the nicest sort of way.

“Uh, yeah, so roll call’s at eleven sharp, Hop hates it when we’re late and uh-” Eddie stood a little away, what he seemed to deem a safe distance from you. “I’d offer to help you find your cabin but I’ve already proven myself to be an absolute sex pest, so-”

You really did laugh then, a choked off sound that made Eddie grin and you smothered your own behind you fist. 

He was sweet, cute. Really pretty. Even sweeter when he smiled at you like that, eyes sincere and so bright, his lips stretched out soft like he was amazed he’d gotten you to laugh at all. 

“They’re back past the firepit, right?”

The boy nodded, hooked a thumb over his shoulder and told you, “yeah, just follow the path that veers off towards the lake. You’re not that far from mine. If you come to a, like, massive cliff, you’ve gone too far.”

You tried to hide another grin, squinted at him in the sun and wondered how you were going to get through the summer with Eddie Munson and your own self appointed rule:

No boys. 

—————

Hopper's office was packed when you slipped back inside just before eleven o’clock. The fax machine was still whirring but the phone had stopped and you realised as you sat down, that a man you hadn’t seen before was holding the cable for it in his hand, unplugged and blissfully silent. 

He stared at you through thick framed glasses, clipboard in his other hand and he scanned his paper. 

“Michigan, right?” He asked you. 

You mumbled your own name, nervous to speak too loud with so many new faces staring at you. You spotted Eddie across the room, lazing on an old couch next to a pretty boy with wild hair and an even prettier girl on his lap. Eddie grinned at you, lifted his hand from his lap and wiggled his fingers in a wave. 

But the older man was huffing, scanning what you realised was your staff file and he brushed off your reply. 

“Yeah, uhuh, Michigan, that’s what I said.”

You didn’t argue, didn't dare, ‘cause every pair of eyes was set upon you, so you dropped to an almost empty sofa and stared at your feet. Next to you, a girl with short hair and a backwards cap leaned in. She had a warm smile, sleepy eyes and freckles across her cheeks, and knee nudged yours. 

She felt like a friend. 

“Unless you wanna be known as ‘new girl’ for the next six weeks, I’d let Murray call you Michigan.” She grinned, voice soft. “I’m Robin.”

Before you could reply, Hopper was standing back up, clapping his hands together and motioning to his camp assistant. “Okay kids, let’s go. Murray?”

“Roll call, shitheads, look alive!” Murray barked, grinning wildly like this was his favourite hobby. “Chrissy, welcome back, we missed you last year. You’re back on gymnastics, but we’re gonna need you to report to Joyce for a first aid refresher, okay?”

A blonde by the window grinned and nodded, eyes wide and bright, features perky and flushed pink. 

“Steve, Hawkins,” Murray pointed to the two on the sofa, neither really paying attention to him as they whispered to each other. “You’re both on games too if you can promise to behave-”

“-and to not break anymore goddamn kayaks,” Hopper cut in. The room snickered and the couple rolled their eyes, grumbling something about the quality of boats at camp. 

“-and Harrington, you’re off the lifeguard rota since you and Hargrove can’t play nice. We want you on orienteering and Jason, you’re on lake duty now.”

Two blonde boys who stood by the window fist bumped, and from the way one of them wore all denim and sunglasses indoors, you had a feeling that he was the Billy your boss had warned you about. 

“Argyle,” Murray barked and a long haired boy jerked awake from where he sat sleeping against the back wall. “Woodshop…let's keep it to bird boxes and kitchen utensils, yeah? Mrs Harlaw didn’t appreciate her son coming home with a custom rolling tray last summer.”

“Sure thing, my dude,” Argyle nodded, smiling happily. 

“Buckley, you’re back in the kitchens with Bob, the kids love your sloppy joes, who’d have thought it, huh?”

Robin gave an unenthusiastic salute, spinning her hat the right way around so she could pull the brim of it low enough to close her eyes and not be seen. 

“Munson, we’re gonna need your workshop schedule by tomorrow, please and thank you,” Murray handed Eddie some sheets of paper, “and you have seventeen new sign ups for private lessons. If you can make it twenty by the time the first week is out, we’ll look at negotiating pay.”

“Yessir,” Eddie murmured, flicking through the list he’d been handed. His eyes found yours and you warmed at the realisation you’d been caught staring. 

He tilted his head towards the sheet, smiled and mouthed, “wanna sign up?”

But then Murray stepped in front of him, barely looking as he said, “Edward, stop flirting with the newbie,” you burned at the laughter, looking at the wall that held a mess of Polaroids and crayon drawings, paintings that were dated back ten years plus. “Nancy and Jonathan should hopefully arrive tomorrow, once the road has opened back up, so in the meantime, please for the love of god, don’t make me have to babysit you all.”

The man turned back to you and grinned, almost menacingly, eyebrows raised in a challenge. “New kid, Michigan, whatever your name is…” Murray searched down the list for your information, a finger scanning over the page. “Okay we’ve got you on arts and crafts with Nancy and if Chrissy needs help in the gym, you’ll be working Fridays there too, got it?”

You nodded, smiling a little tight ‘cause everyone in the room was still staring at you. 

And just like that, Hopper plugged the phone back into the wall and Murray clapped his hands together, a signal for everyone to gather their things, schedules clutched in their hands as they stood. The ringing started again, the fax machine whirred and you were pushed outside with the rush of the small crowd. 

The morning sun caught you the same time a hand did, just as warm on the small of your back, right before you stumbled over old roots that had grown too wild. You turned to find Eddie, smiling kindly, a little shyly, holding you until you found your footing again. 

“Doing okay there?” 

You let out a sigh that you hoped he couldn’t hear shake, squinting a little in the sun. “Yeah! Yeah— just, just a little overwhelmed.”

He nodded like he understood, taking his hand away but you still felt the burn over your shirt, cheeks feeling just as warm as he kept smiling that smile. There was a boy hovering behind him, smirking a little, brown eyes on both of you as he pretended that he wasn’t listening. 

“Just wait until the kids arrive, you really gotta watch out for the ones that bite,” Eddie grinned when you laughed, hands shoved in his pockets and he hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. 

“Are you speaking from experience?” You asked him, feeling lighter than you had inside the cabin. The air smelled like pine and the creek you knew that flowed nearby. “Should I have made sure my shots were up to date before I came?”

“Oh yeah, rookie error, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned wolfishly, “it’s the little ones that’ll get you, the five year olds that can still reach your ankles.”

You snorted and suddenly you were pushing at his shoulder, hand on his bare skin and he was warm and soft under the tattoo ink and nonono, you weren’t supposed to be flirting. 

So you cleared your throat and took a step back, eyes searching the moss at your feet and the forest seemed so much warmer than it was before. Before you could say anything else though - before you could dig yourself any deeper - the boy that seemed to be waiting for Eddie interrupted. 

He had wild hair and a staff hoodie that had a girl's name stitched on the chest instead of his own and he was smirking. 

“Uh, not to interrupt this little,” he waved a hand between the two of you, “thing, but if you want my help moving the amps, Eds, we gotta get it done soon.”

“I hope you can sense the irony in that, Harrington,” Eddie shot back and the other boy - Steve, you were sure - just grinned. “But yeah, I’ll get you at the van.” Eddie threw a set of keys at his friend and then it was just the two of you once more. 

“So, uh, there’s a staff party tonight,” Eddie explained, bringing one arm up to mess with the curls at the back of his head, squinting down at you like the sun was too bright and he was too casual to care about the words he was saying. “S’usually down by the dock, the beer is shit but it’s free. I’ll see you there?”

The boy was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t possibly have said no. Big, brown eyes, lined with impossibly thick lashes that blinked prettily at you as he waited for an answer. It wasn’t until you heard too much birdsong from the tree canopy that you realised you were staring at him, lips parted and saying absolutely nothing. 

Then you were nodding, trying hard not to smile too much because the boy’s grin was contagious and he was too pretty with the way the sun shone on him. 

“Yeah,” you told him. “I’ll see you there.”

—————

The lake was framed with the stacked kayaks, the sand so much cooler now that the sun had dipped below the mountains along the horizon. There was a din of music, laughter, conversation dulled with the sound of the lake lapping at the shoreline and the idea of this space in the forest being your home for six weeks, didn’t seem so bad. 

You wandered closer with arms crossed across your chest, wary and unsure of the unfamiliar faces and the smell of weed in the air that mixed with the pine needles. But a blonde girl that you recognised from the morning meeting caught your eye and waved, ponytail swinging as she walked over to you. 

“Hey! Michigan, right?” She smiled, cheeks and lips a matching bubblegum pink. 

“Uh, yeah. Apparently,” you smiled, not bothering to correct her, especially when she was handing you a red cup of something strong. You sipped, grimacing at the taste of cheap beer, lukewarm at best. “You’re Chrissy?”

You prayed you’d remembered right and when the girl grinned and nodded, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“How’re you finding things?” Chrissy asked, nodding towards the small fire that someone had made on the sandy knoll, to the group of counsellors sprawled around it. “Did you get settled okay?”

You walked with her, edging around an old dock that seemed ready to sink into the bottom of the lake, waving shyly to the people who greeted you, the music too loud to really exchange anything more. You leaned into the blonde, mouth near her ear as you replied.  

“Yeah, yeah— it’s been good!” You shrugged, somewhat unsure. “It’s different. Quiet.”

And it was. Your cabin was the last one in the row of counsellor homes, far away from the main offices and mess halls, almost hidden by the overgrown shrubs, wildflowers growing up the sides of the porch stairs. Everything outside was birdsong and the buzz of insects you couldn’t see, a tiny trickle of water from a creek that ran by the back wall window. 

Chrissy smiled and patted your arm, “enjoy it while it lasts, the kids will destroy the peace soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said wryly and just as you went to take another long sip from your cup, the girl's eyebrows shot up and she tilted her chin to something behind you.

“Someone’s waiting on you.” 

You turned, heart picking up in an embarrassing fashion as you spotted Eddie lingering by the dockside, a matching red cup in his hand as he spoke with Steve and another girl, who were debating animatedly about something you couldn’t hear. But he was watching you. 

You looked from the boy and back to Chrissy, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt and Chrissy grinned, nudging at your arm with her elbow. 

“Go say hi,” she said and her voice was too sweet and small to sound commanding, but you did so anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow? We can go over the gym schedule.”

You nodded, already walking across the sand to where Eddie was standing and you wondered if you imagined the way he pulled himself up a little straighter at your approach. He met you halfway, seemingly eager to get away from his two friends who were now too busy making out, hands pulling at each other's belt loops. 

“Hi,” you smiled, wondering how he looked as pretty in the moonlight as he did under the sun. 

“You made it,” Eddie greeted, tapping his cup against your own. “Makin’ friends?”

Eddie waved at Chrissy over your shoulder, ignoring how she looked at your back and winked, shooting him a thumbs up in response to a question he didn’t ask. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, following him as he led you both over to a dried out log that sat a little away from the fire - and an apparent audience. “Yeah, Chrissy seems nice.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, sitting close enough to you that your legs brushed. It seemed to be accidental, ‘cause he flinched and moved a little, leaving enough room between you both that you felt the cooler nip of the night air. “Most of the guys here are.”

“Most?”

Eddie scrunched his nose in a very endearing show of disdain. “Jason is questionable,” he stage whispered to you, leaning back in so you could smell his cologne and campfire smoke that clung to him. “And Hargrove is more than questionable.”

You snorted, eyeing the boy in question. Billy Hargrove was lit up by firelight, a can of beer held to his lips and his denim jacket was almost too tight across his shoulders. He was blonde, blue eyed and dangerous looking, the kind of pretty that was too good to be true, the kind your mother told you to stay away from. 

And with good reason, you noted, ‘cause the boy caught your gaze and even though he grinned, you realised there wasn’t much kindness behind those pretty baby blues. 

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, “I’ve been well warned about him. I’m not interested in knowing more.”

Eddie seemed a little surprised, hiding his smile behind his cup as he took a sip. There was a rolled up joint tucked behind his ear that he seemed to have forgotten about, curls less wild than earlier now the heat in the air has fizzled out, a too big sweater on top of his previously slashed up shirt. 

“Not your type?” Eddie asked, aiming for casual. He was staring out at the lake, taking quick glances at you from the corner of his eyes as he waited for a reply. 

You huffed out a laugh and it sounded more like a sigh, the boy noted and the smile you gave him was a tired around the edges. You dug the heel of your sneaker into the sand, kicked at a rock you unearthed and tried not to sound too self deprecating when you explained:

“No one’s really my type, right now.”

“Oh?” 

You wondered if you misheard the disappointment in the boy’s voice, if Eddie really did look a little sadder than before when your gaze met his again. He was smiling, soft, eyebrows raised in question and his knee nudged your own. 

“I’ve sworn off relationships,” you explained, shrugging. The memory of a boy you wanted to forget was still lingering in the corners of your thoughts and it made your skin itch. “Kinda over boys, nothing but trouble, unfortunately.”

Eddie grinned wryly, placing his empty cup at his feet and fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers instead. You tried not to stare but the moon and the surface of the lake was glinting off of them, making you gawk at long fingers and wide palms, tiny silver scars that lit up in the low light. 

“Trouble, huh?” Eddie asked, head turned to you so you could see just how brown his eyes really were. “That’s a shame. I’m good at trouble.”

You inhaled on your drink, beer hitting the back of your throat at his words and you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you spluttered. Eddie was laughing quietly when you swiped the back of your hand across your lips and glared at him, embarrassment making your chest tight. 

“No boys,” you told him, choosing to ignore his reply. You didn’t really know what to say to that, not without being able to drag him back to your bunk afterwards — and that was the opposite of the plan. “I need a summer to just… recalibrate.”

Eddie was still smiling and he nodded, everything about his soft and gentle and lit up by the stars. There was a dimple on his right cheek you wanted to put your lips on. 

“Seems like a good plan,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your lips and Jesus Christ, the night seemed as warm as the day next to Eddie. He brought a thumb to your chin, sliding upupup until the pad of it swiped at the corner of your mouth, wiping away a little drop of beer you’d missed. 

You swallowed, hard. 

“Still a shame though,” the boy told you, sighing dramatically, letting his hand drop away. Eddie stared back out to the lake, grinning when you frowned. 

“It is?” You weren’t sure where he was going with this. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie assured you, nodding emphatically. Everything the boy said and did seemed to be dripping in drama, glitter and theatrics. It made you smile even when you didn’t mean to. “I had a plan, you see.”

It was your turn to seem intrigued, brows raised, shoulders leaning into him. “Oh?”

Eddie sighed again, just as playful as before, heavy and over exaggerated. “We were totally gonna fall in love,” the boy explained, trying hard to keep the smile off of his face, but his lips were turning up at the corners and his eyes looked like brown sugar, glittering and warm.

You scoffed, a sharp noise of surprise bursting from your chest and it made Eddie beam. He was all soft edges and softer eyes as he looked at you, ignoring the way his friends were watching, his gaze trained on the way you were grinning for him. 

“We were?” You laughed — you’d forgotten to be shy, you’d forgotten you didn’t really know this boy, not yet. 

But Eddie nodded again, curls springing, bangs falling into his eyes with the movement and you were closer again, knees brushing, toes of your shoes touching his in the sand. 

“Totally,” he told you solemnly. “Was gonna be a whole thing, we had the meet cute, right?”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, a lovely ache that reached your chest. You nodded, aiming to look as serious as the boy did but failing miserably. You remembered the way you’d slammed into each other, morning sun and a tumbling in your stomach that you didn't want to acknowledge. “Oh, of course,” you agreed. 

“And then we were gonna spend all summer doing that totally annoying ‘will they, won't they’ thing, y’know? Maybe a couple of almost kisses, an interrupted moment or two—”

“—wow, you’re a real romantic, huh?”

Eddie ignored you, but his smile grew bigger. “—but I guess we’re gonna have to change up the script. Start off as friends, do that slow burn kinda shit.”

“We are?” You hated that you were still playing along. You hated that you were so close to the boy, that you liked the way he smelled, like smoke and cologne and cheap beer and the way the lake smelled at night. “Do I need to learn lines?”

Eddie’s grin changed to something softer, gaze falling from your eyes to your lips and back again, his cheeks pink and his dimples deepening. He shook his head. “Nah, you’re a natural.”

Eddie was all pink cheeks and soft smiles, honey brown eyes and curls that made him seem like he’d just rolled out of bed. But he was looking at you like a new friend, a new something and the smell of campfire smoke and damp moss was the new scent of home. It clung to Eddie like it did you and it made your brain a little fuzzy, it made you forget about home and ruined plans and nine to five jobs in brick buildings and boys who broke your heart. 

This summer tasted like cheap beer and it felt like sand in your shoes, like sunburnt cheeks and a new kind of boy who seemed to like to make you smile. 

For the second time that day - your very first day at Camp Upside Down - you were struggling to remember why swearing off boys had seemed like such a good idea. 

I need you to need me. 

The kids arrived that Saturday and brought chaos with them. 

They poured out of the out of service school buses, sunshine yellow amongst the trees, parents cars filling up the usually empty parking lot. There was luggage everywhere, backpacks abandoned on benches and at the foot of trees, forgotten about as friends greeted old friends. 

Chrissy had been right, it was loud. The sounds of the forest drowned out by shouts and chatter, the overlap of parents yelling at their kids about the importance of vitamins and bug spray, all whilst Hopper, Murray and Nancy stood near the unlit fire and tried to yell out names. 

It was a little mad and you were clutching your own clipboard, a list of kids on it that you’d never met before and suddenly you were terrified that the bunch of preteens you were responsible for keeping alive would hate you.

The kids ran rampant, already hanging from tree branches and trading god knows what from the hidden depths of their backpacks and Christ, someone was blasting ‘Sex Machine’ by James Brown from a boombox no adult could actually find within the crowd. 

As if he could sense your panic, Eddie appeared at your elbow. He greeted you with the same smile he had on the first day, that slow, soft spread of his lips that made you feel too warm. His hair was pulled back today, a haphazard bun that kept the heat away from his curls and you could see more of his face; strong jaw, the slants of his cheekbones, the line of his neck. He wore the same staff shirt as you, long sleeves rolled to the elbow with his name printed on the front of his chest and there were a few patches sewn underneath. 

A guitar, a skull and crossbones and a small teddy bear. 

You grinned, reaching a finger out to poke at the last one. “Cute,” you said in lieu of a greeting. 

Eddie frowned, or at least you think he tried to. His lips were turned up at the corners, nose scrunched as he batted your hand away with no force behind it. He was standing close, close enough that you could smell the shampoo he must have used that morning, close enough that you could hear him over the roar of the camp.

“You couldn’t have noticed the more metal ones, huh, sweetheart?” he acted offended, chin tucked to his chest so he could peer at the red guitar stitched near his name. 

“Not a chance,” you laughed and Eddie lifted his head at the sound, gaze landing on your mouth as if he could see your happiness. “Why the bear?”

“Because--” Eddie hummed, scanning his list of names before finding the culprit on your own sheet. “--This little guy called me Teddy for his first two summers.” He pointed to a name on the bottom of your paper, someone called Dustin Henderson. 

“Even cuter,” you told him and he shrugged, cheeks pink and seemingly enjoying your attention. 

Eddie stretched, all faux bravado and charm his side brushing your own and you tried hard not to stare at the way his shirt lifted, a slice of bare skin peeking out between it and his jeans. “I know,” he sighed dramatically, like it was a hardship. “Fallen in love with me yet?”

You snorted, an awful noise that should’ve made your cheeks flush with heat but Eddie only grinned wider. 

“Not yet,” you told him and you rolled your eyes when the boy grabbed at his chest with two hands, as if your rejection wounded him. 

“There’s still time,” his reply was quiet and close to your ear, a brush of a stray curl over your cheek that made you shiver. “Anyway, what hellspawn have you been left with? Need help?”

You were grateful for both the change of subject and the assistance, handing Eddie your clipboard when he held out his hand. He chuckled at the list and nodded to himself, scanning through the names before giving it back to you and smiling kindly. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” he told you, “you’ve got a good bunch.”

You blew out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, smiling back at him, “yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boy assured and he nudged your arm with his elbow, squinting through the sun and the mess of loud colours at the kids that swarmed the main camp area. “And if they give you any trouble, you can just tell them your friend Eddie will sort them out.”

His words warmed you more than they should and the word ‘friend’ sounded lovely on his lips. 

“Friend?” 

Eddie peered down at you from behind his bangs, curls hanging messily in front of his eyes and it made him look a little younger than he was. There was that smile again, the wide, slow stretch of his lips and it was warmer than the sun, the summer, the June heat lingering even in the early morning hour.

He looked at you as if you’d told him a joke and he scoffed, “uh, yeah? This summer romance has to start somewhere, sweetheart.” He said it lightly, prettily, soft enough that you didn’t really want to correct him.

Besides, he was joking. Wasn’t he?

But then he was gone, reappearing ten minutes later with a gaggle of kids that were apparently a part of your group, smiling triumphantly when you visibly sagged with relief. The campers were still chattering, but they dutifully raised one hand and yelled out some sort of confirmation when you called out their names. 

Dustin Henderson.

Mike Wheeler.

Maxine Mayfield.

Erica Sinclair.

Janie Evans.

Adam Johnstone.

Eddie was walking back into the crowd to find his own kids just as Maxine was telling you that you were to call her Max and only Max. In fact, the redhead pointedly informed you she’d ignore you if you called her anything else. But you caught the boy’s gaze just before he disappeared, returning his wave with your own raised hand and you mouthed a quick ‘thank you.’

He winked and then he was gone, swallowed up by campers, parents with bags of medication and inhalers, lists of allergies and yells of the yearly battle of who had the top bunk.

—————

The second week went as quickly as the first, the kids were happy to get to know you, each one nosy and inquisitive, challenging and entirely too entertaining. You spent the afternoons in one of the wooden cabins by the lake, sheltered from the heat of the sun and covered in paint and glitter, guiding the campers through crafting sessions and hoping Max didn’t glue anyone else’s hand to a table. 

(Mike was still cursing a small chemical burn and Murray had insisted you could handle it, ‘cause the man admitted he was quite frankly, terrified of the young girl.)

Breakfasts were rushed in the mess hall, a noisy start to every morning but you got to say hi to Robin as she slid you extra strawberries in your yoghurt and Nancy always saved you a seat beside her and Jonathan. Every now and then lunches could be had in solace, a sandwich and a stolen carton of OJ eaten at the lake, the sun making the water glitter, toes dipped in the shallows. 

You got your bearings quickly, six days in and able to navigate the forest easily enough, from the gym hall to the last of the kids' bunks. You got used to the noise of the tannoy each morning, the moss that grew on almost everything you touched, the ever present smell of chlorine, sunscreen and bug spray. 

It was best at night, you found, when the kids were asleep - or at least pretending to be - when all the lanterns and torches were off, when the stars were the brightest thing around and you could find fireflies by the shoreline. 

And then there was the walk back to your cabin after dinner was done and the benches were cleared, after you and Steve had taken your turn at hosting story time around the fire pit and Robin’s s’mores had been demolished. 

Most of the kids were sent to their cabins for down time, to play cards, read books, share mixtapes and swap the candy they’d hoarded from home. Some went to Nancy for summer school classes, learning Spanish and Calculus to make up for failed grades. 

Others went to the cabin near your own, a small wooden structure that leaked out sounds and songs, guitar and piano and sometimes drums - some pretty, some questionably out of tune. But if you timed it just right, you’d walk by as the last of the kids were leaving, guitars on their backs and drumsticks in their hands, leaving Eddie on the small porch, lit up by the lamp inside. 

And this night, you’d strolled by in the evening heat, warmth still lingering in the air that smelled like cedar and leftover smoke, passing Dustin and his guitar on the pathway. The young boy stopped you with an excited grin, sheet music in his hand and he pointed out each new chord that he was able to play.  

It was easy to get caught up in his joy, his pride and you gushed over Dustin as he did his guitar. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling of eyes on your back, a heat that didn’t come from summer that was still trapped in the night. 

When you sent Dustin off after messing up his curls with an affectionate hand, you turned to find Eddie, just like you knew you would. He was leaning on the porch railing, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, an amber glow in the dark. 

He wiggled his fingers at you in a wave, a smile hidden behind the smoke he breathed out. His curls were loose and wild, his staff shirt swapped out for a Metallica tee that was cut shorter across his stomach. More skin flashed between his top and his jeans and you couldn’t help the way your gaze faltered, looking down. 

“Hey, new girl,” Eddie greeted and his voice was low and raspy from shouting intrusions at his students over the thrashing of bass drums and cymbals. 

The air around you buzzed with cicadas and something else, something unknown but not unwanted, fizzed alongside it. 

“Hey, city boy,” you called back and you felt admired from where you stood, Eddie a little above you on the porch, towering and broad and pretty. “Lessons over?”

Eddie grinned and stubbed out the cigarette against the wood, swinging himself around the post to come a little closer. He lingered by the door, hands shoved in his pockets. “Don’t have to be,” he smiled. 

You told yourself it would be rude to not follow him, that friends could hang out and it didn’t matter that you thought he was too pretty for his own good. It didn’t matter that you liked his curls or his tattoos or the way he smiled at you each morning, it didn’t matter that you liked his silly teddy bear patch or the way he chased the younger kids around camp with a stupid ‘monster voice.’ 

It didn’t matter. No boys. That was your rule. 

You could spend time with him, you could chat, hang out, maybe steal a smoke and listen to some music. You didn’t have to kiss him. You didn’t. 

You didn’t. 

The inside of the cabin was different from the larger one they held the main music workshop, the neat shelves of percussion instruments and chalkboard of music notes swapped for low light and a couple of chairs, a beanbag in the corner, a drum kit stacked by the door and some guitars and amps on an old paisley patterned rug. 

It smelled like Eddie’s cologne, a little like smoke and rain, and there really, really wasn’t a lot of space. Eddie gestured to the chair across from him, sliding a tin out from underneath one of the amps stacked against a wall and he wiggled it at you.

“Can I interest you?”

You nodded with a grin, dropping down onto the chair and relishing in the way silence hugged the camp again. If you listened carefully enough, you could hear the lake lap at the shore, water against the moored kayaks and the whispers of the kids through open cabin windows. And then there was the flicker of a lighter, the sizzle of something burning and Eddie sighed, slow and soft.

“Long day?” you asked him, leaning in a little to take the joint he offered you and you tried really hard to not think about his lips when you place it between your own.

Eddie hummed, watching the way you took a drag, not as long and deep as his, but he smiled when you managed to blow the smoke to the ceiling without coughing. He was stretched out lazily on the chair that looked more suited to the kids than his lean frame and his spread knees almost knocked against your own.

“You could say that. Been chasin’ kids all day after Billy slept in and didn’t turn up for his hiking group and Hop’s been riding my ass about getting extra sign ups,” Eddie took the roll up back from you and smiled, looking at you from under his lashes in a way you’d become familiar with. “S’lookin’ up now, though.”

You tried to hold his gaze, you really tried. But those big, brown eyes still managed to pierce right into your soul and it made you dizzy, it made you feel too warm. You huffed out a shy laugh and ducked your chin, eyes on the floor just for a second - enough for you to try to collect yourself.

“Are you flirting with me, Munson?” you didn’t sound as bold as you wanted to, your words coming out softer, a little breathier.

But maybe it worked all the same, ‘cause Eddie had turned pink and was hiding behind his curls, joint forgotten about. He brought his fingers to his lips instead, rings glittering in the low light and he looked thoughtful, like he was deciding what to say.

“I’m trying,” he chuckled, “but honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You wanted to tell him it was working anyway, that he didn’t even need to try. ‘Cause it had been a week at Camp Upside Down, a week of knowing him and you were already too far gone on his charm and his hair and his smile and his teddy bear patch and-- 

“You remember my rule, right?” you said instead, trying to smile about it, like you weren’t cursing yourself and your ex for making you so opposed to even trying with another boy. 

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed and nodded, bringing the half burned joint back to his lips so he could relight it. “You mean your ‘no boys, no fun, no summer fling’ rule?”

He grinned, smug.

“I never said I wasn’t going to have fun,” you protested. “I’m just-- planning on staying away from anything that can break my heart.”

The tone in the cabin shifted, the air in the small space becoming a little heavier but you didn’t feel suffocated. In fact, when Eddie stubbed out the joint in one of his empty coffee mugs and leaned onto his knees, you didn’t feel the need to do anything but move closer too. Your foot nudged his and one side of his mouth quirked up into a small smile, his eyes careful on you.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly. 

You shrugged half heartedly and watched the way the lights of the camp slowly started to switch off, one by one, until you and Eddie were the only ones still bathed in warmth. “Not much to tell,” you murmured, “not without sounding like a cliche.” 

Eddie’s knee nudged against your own, deliberate this time, and it made you look over at the boy. He was smiling, kind and so lovely. 

“I don’t mind cliches, remember?”

So you sucked in a breath and told him about life in Port Austin, how there were only really a few parks, the lake and a farmers market to look forward to on Sundays. You spoke about your job at Murphy’s Bakery on West Spring Street, how you volunteered at the gallery on weekends because you loved paintings and watercolours and wanted to go to an art school when you could afford it. You dropped your voice and tried to keep your tone light when you told him about the boy that stole your heart when you were fourteen and how he promised you the world when you were eighteen.

You really wished you still had the joint when you huffed out a laugh that held no humour and whispered how you found him in bed with a girl you used to be friends with when you were nineteen. 

And then there was another year and a half of your mom trying to make you stay with him because his parents ran the town committee and how were they supposed to show face when you made such a scene in their yard? And ‘didn’t you want to get married? Didn’t you want to settle down and have a family? Did you really want to have to start again? Is art school really a productive use of your time?’

Eddie, for the most part, stayed silent as you spoke, only frowning when necessary. And when you were done and your cheeks were a little damp and you sniffed without meaning to, the boy slid his foot along yours and held it there, the silence deafening. Night had finally set and the air smelled like oncoming rain and the remnants of smoke and Eddie Munson offered you his hand.

You wondered what it meant, you wondered what to do but when you looked at his face, his expression was soft and kind and open. You took it, palm sliding against his own and his skin was warm and rough, rings cold, fingers littered with guitar string calluses and they curled around you.

His hand was so much bigger than your own but when he gave it a squeeze, it was the most gentle thing you’d felt. You sucked in a breath and felt it stutter and hitch in your chest, gaze finding his in the low light and he smiled at you, a little sadder than before. 

“I’m really sorry that happened,” he whispered. 

It was nothing but sincere, the way he said it. Sweet and lovely and quiet, and god, you believed him. So you sniffed again, a little embarrassed and you wiped at your cheeks and eyes with your free hand - you didn’t dare take your other one from Eddie, not yet. 

You didn’t bother with the usual responses, none of the ‘it’s not your fault’s’ or ‘it’s alright.’ 

“Thank you,” you said instead, just as softly as Eddie had spoke, your smile a little watery. “M’sorry… I really didn’t mean to blurt all that out. You didn’t have to listen to it.”

Eddie’s smile was soft and understanding, and it made you so ache. He was looking at you with those big, brown eyes, shining with kindness and he was bold enough to not look away when you stared back. In fact, it only made him grin wider. 

So you had to be the one to break the moment, break the spell, gaze shifting to the wooden cabin floor and you let out a sigh that felt too loud for the space. You sniffed one last time and dabbed your fingers under your eyes, erasing any evidence of upset. You tapped a foot against Eddie’s converse, your toe touching the doodles he’d inked out along the sole. 

“What about you?”

Eddie eyes you somewhat suspiciously, corners of his lips lifted in a shy smile and without the joint, he started to twist his rings around each finger. You tried not to watch, breath caught in your throat ‘cause his hands were big and wide, his fingers long andandand—

“What about me?” Eddie asked. 

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling, “we can’t all be hiding out in the middle of the forest ‘cause a guy broke our heart, right?” You blew out the breath you’d been holding and tried to act normal. 

“How presumptuous of you, sweetheart,” Eddie’s grin was wicked and it made you flush, heat travelling from your cheeks to your neck. “But I guess you’re right, I’m just here for the money.” The boy swung a leg over the arm of his chair, slumping down low and he tipped his head back lazily, watching you from under his lashes. “And I s’pose the kids are alright.”

“You don’t wanna be hanging out in the city each summer?” You asked him, hoping you didn’t sound too nosy. The idea of a city as large as Philadelphia was foreign to you. “Aren’t you missing out on concerts and stuff?”

Eddie hummed and smiled at you in a way that made you feel shy, like he thought you were all kinds of cute. “And stuff, yeah,” Eddie agreed but then he was pulling at the ring on his thumb, a large skull and his brows furrowed. “It’s not as exciting as you’d think. It’s just my uncle and I - Wayne - we’re not exactly living the high life downtown, you know?”

You didn’t say anything, you just leaned in a little, silently coaxing the boy to keep speaking. 

“My mum left when I was pretty young,” Eddie explained, “don’t remember her all that much, not really, sometimes it’s easier when I see a photo or something. She dropped me with Wayne and just… didn’t come back.” 

Eddie sucked in a breath. “The dude that got her pregnant didn’t even hang around to see me being born, apparently,” he snorted but his laugh was humourless. “So he doesn’t get the title of dad.”

“That’s fair,” you replied quietly. 

“We didn’t have much money when I was growing up,” the boy continued. “Still don’t, I guess. But I remember being, like eleven, and really wanting to go to summer camp. I was obsessed with the idea of climbing trees and learning new shit in the middle of nowhere.” 

Eddie’s voice was lifting, gaining back that happy undertone and he was smiling again, a little shy, but it was there. His eyes glittered as he looked at you. 

“Wayne couldn’t afford it but he would take me to the park and create these treasure hunts for me - hell, he taught me how to play guitar too, never yelled at me once and Christ, he should’ve, I used to annoy the shit out of that old man as soon as he got home from work.”

You laughed and Eddie beamed, eyes meeting in the brief silence and the summer air felt warmer than ever, the open door seemingly incapable of letting in what little breeze there was. 

“So I guess I like it here,” Eddie admitted, “as much as I need the money too. I wanna help Wayne out, y’know? But it’s nice to be able to do it somewhere like this.” The boy gestured to the small room with its tower of amps and carpet of wires and sheet music like it was home. 

You leaned onto your elbows, close enough to the boy that you could tap your fingertips to his knee, once, twice, a small smile on your face that reached your eyes and Eddie thought it was lovely, the way you looked at him like he had every ounce of your attention.

“I think that’s a really nice reason to be here,” you told him.

And god, Eddie wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you really, really badly - ‘cause your hair smelled good and your eyes were real pretty and he was damn sure you were looking at his lips the same way he was looking at yours. But he was so aware of the heartache you had just shared with him, your self appointed rule of ‘no boys,’ and Eddie Munson was very much a boy. 

Maybe even more man than boy, you’d argue. And perhaps that was worse.

So instead he pulled back and your hand dropped from his knee and it was enough to make him miss you. Eddie looked at you thoughtfully, head tilted, smile shy and his cheeks were still tinged pink and all of it was awfully endearing. You cleared your throat, suddenly self conscious and Eddie stood.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme walk you to your cabin.”

It was easy to say yes. It was even easier to walk close enough to Eddie that your shoulder bumped into his bicep, arms pressed together and hands painfully apart. 

You whispered and laughed as you followed him through the forest, down the narrow trails that criss crossed through the camp like heartstrings. And when the ground got a little uneven and the night was too dark to see the roots that snuck out from the forest floor, Eddie’s hand cupped your elbow and everything about his touch was warm and rough and electrifying. 

The camp was quiet and it seemed like the world was made just for the two of you, the lake sitting like glass on your right and the soft silence of the woods and the trees on your left. 

He was pretty in the moonlight. Prettier when he stood at the bottom of your cabin steps with his hands behind his back as he smiled and said goodnight, like he couldn’t and wouldn’t trust himself to move closer to your door. 

‘Cause standing outside on a porch in the dark with a pretty boy surely led to a goodnight kiss, didn’t it? 

Didn’t it?

And just before you closed your door, on the moon and the forest and the boy, Eddie called out to you by your name and hid his grin behind his curls, rings glittering in the low light. 

“Happy first week at camp, sweetheart,” he told you softly, sweetly and you grinned in return. “M’happy to have you as a friend.”

Your heart stuttered and dipped at his words, a pretty warmth spreading over your chest and cheeks and you were ready to reply in like. And then:

“Just don’t, y’know, yell at me when you do fall in love with me.”

You barked out a laugh and hid your grin behind your door, too big and too wide to let him see, because goddamn it, he was getting to you too easily. 

“I’ll be sure to keep the yelling to a minimum,” you told him, voice mild and too casual. 

Eddie shrugged, still smiling lazily, “it’s inevitable.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, the rejection softened by the way you grinned too, eyes fond and stuck on him. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

—————

“She makes me—” Eddie let out a strangled noise that ended in a sigh and Steve frowned. “I feel— fuck.”

“Use your big boy words, Eds,” Steve commented mildly and from behind him, lying on the boy’s bed, Hawkins flipped a page of her magazine and snorted. 

Eddie has scrambled back to his cabin after standing before your closed door for a few seconds too long, eyes fond, his smile dopey and his heart beating a little too fast.  

And it was like the forest knew how he felt ‘cause the insects buzzed a little louder and there was something in the air that made it feel like a storm was on its way. He found Steve at the desk they shared, headphones around his neck and music playing quietly through static. His girlfriend was on his bed, flat on her stomach and too busy with her reading to really look up at Eddie, but she seemed thoroughly amused by the whole situation. 

“You know that song? The cheesy one? The one that’s like ‘I can’t fight this feeling anymore?’ That one?”

Steve blinked, staring at Eddie for a second before he smothered a smile with his hand. He coughed, hiding a laugh. “REO Speedwagon?” 

Eddie threw himself onto his bunk and whined, dragging his palms over his face. “Yes,” he replied mournfully. “Every time I see her it’s like that song plays and the wind picks up and everything is in slow motion.”

“Does she suddenly have wings too?” Steve countered. 

“Fuck you.”

Hawkins laughed again and instead of flipping another page, she groaned and stretched out, moving lazily to the desk chair that Steve occupied, throwing herself down onto her boyfriend’s lap. 

“Have I missed something or is there a reason you’re not asking her to hang out?” The girl was staring at Eddie earnestly, one of her hands buried in the hair at Steve’s neck. 

“We do hang out,” Eddie protested. “We just did.”

Hawkins rolled her eyes at the same time Steve did and Eddie wondered if being in love with someone made you as annoying as them. 

“Like an actual date, Munson.” She shrugged and gave him a smile that told Eddie she knew she was being annoying. “Some people brush their hair for it, maybe wear jeans without holes in the knees.”

Eddie huffed and let himself roll across his bed, face squished to his pillows to muffle his low groan of despair. For good measure, he kicked his feet against the mattress too. Finally, he resurfaced, cheeks pink and a little downturned and he said to his friends a little mournfully:

“She doesn’t date. Or, I guess, she doesn’t want to date.”

Steve looked perplexed. “Why?”

Eddie heaved himself up and sat against the wooden headboard, kicking his sneakers off until they thudded to the floor. “Uh, there was a shitty ex,” he explained. “Which I totally get… I just wish— I don’t know.”

Hawkins threw a pen at him, soft enough that it barely bounced off of his thigh but Eddie still sent her a look of offence. 

“Ow.”

“Shut up,” the girl huffed. “You better not be pestering her, Eds, if she said she’s not interested—”

“I’m not!” Eddie defended himself. “I’m not. I just like to remind her that she’ll eventually fall in love with me. Eventually.”

Steve choked on a laugh and tried to cover it when his girlfriend frowned at him. 

“Eddie!”

“What?” The boy answered petulantly. “I’m not serious about it,” Eddie lied, “I’m being, like, totally cute, s’fine.”

His two friends levelled him with a stare. 

“And besides! I like hanging out with her. She’s cool. And pretty and funny and she— it’s fine,” he repeated, almost to himself. “We’re just friends.”

Despite the conviction Eddie said it with, neither of the three people in the cabin believed him. 

I’d love you to love me. 

The third week brought a split lip, a sprained wrist and thunderstorm that lasted two days

The kids were more than antsy with having to spend most of their time indoors as the rain flooded the camp grounds, the banks of the lake tested as the water kept rising and the winds shook the trees. Leaves lived permanently in the air, whirling on the harsh gales, branches scratching at cabin windows like the soundtrack of a bad scary movie. 

So some activities doubled up, with more than the normal amount of campers crammed into cabin classrooms instead of being out on the lake or taking hikes into the mountains. 

It’s why you and Nancy were nearing your limit with over forty kids inside the arts centre, the summer air still humid enough to make the room sticky and heavy, to make everyone cranky and uncomfortable. The rain of the metal roof was a musical reminder of how there was no chance of escape. 

There were wars over glue sticks, more paint on the floor than on any paper and half way through the activity block, Argyle squelched in with another fifteen kids, all soaking wet and clutching wooden bird boxes in various stages of completion. 

“Cabin four is leaking, my dudes,” he explained with a smile. 

And that’s how Max tripped over Will’s bird feeder, how she slipped on some spilled watercolours and went careening into a kid named Josie. Josie had wire framed glasses that were entirely too big for her tiny head and Max’s lip got caught and split on the corner of them. 

With blood dripping down her chin and a smattering of colours on her bare knees and jean shorts, she looked a little startled, eyes wide at the red that came away when she wiped her fingers over her mouth. 

But Mike Wheeler was fourteen years old and a boy, which meant that Mike didn’t really know how to act in public yet and when he laughed at Max, the girl responded by shoving him into a shelf full of paint cans and pots of glitter. 

So the classroom was in chaos, Will was mourning his broken bird feeder, Max was bleeding and enraged and Mike was clutching his wrist that he claimed was broken all while pink and lilac glitter poured from his hair. 

When the tannoy rang out at one o’clock, you sighed in relief and watched as the kids ran out the door towards the mess hall, the smell of pizza pockets and macaroni and cheese making the campers scamper happily through mud filled puddles and towards the large building. 

Argyle wandered out after them, slow and lazily, like the rain that still poured didn’t really bother him and he didn’t seem to care that much when Dustin jumped into a puddle at his side and splashed mud up his slacks. 

You and Nancy worked diligently to clean up the mess left behind, crawling under tables to retrieve forgotten paint brushes and pens that were missing lids. But you’d barely managed to make a dent in the chaos before Hopper’s voice crackled through the tannoy system. 

“Can Hawkins report to the office, please,” the gruff voice was muffled between static. “—hit, Hawkins one, the good one, the first one… Nancy. Can Nancy report to the office.”

The girl rolled her eyes as she stood but there was a fondness there that told you she didn’t really mind, years of working for Hopper making her more than familiar with his bad habit with remembering names. 

“Pretty sure he wants to go over next week's schedule,” Nancy told you, brushing glitter from her knees. “I’ll be as quick as I can, okay? Sorry to leave you with all of this.” 

The girl did look regretful, brows pinched as she gestured to the mess around the room that only seemed to grow as more paint leaked out from tipped over pots. 

You shook your head and smiled, “it’s fine, don’t worry. I’m alright on my own, mess hall duty can't be that much tidier, right?” 

Nancy snorted a quiet laugh and hummed in agreement, “put it this way, lunch time clean up is usually reserved for punishments.”

“Poor kids,” you mused, crawling over to scoop up a fallen bucket of stickers and felt sheets. 

“Oh, not the kids,” Nancy smiled wryly. “Just ask Steve or Hawkins, I’m sure they’d love to tell you.”

Leaving you confused, the girl left, clipboard in hand and you watched out of the rain streaked window as she ran across camp, daintily avoiding the muddy puddles that were already getting larger as the storm rolled on. So you stayed on the floor, bare knees a little cold on the old linoleum and you were swearing softly at a bright blue patch of paint that didn’t seem to want to budge. 

You didn’t hear the door open again, not over the sound of the rain hammering down on the roof. In fact, you didn’t hear anything until someone let out a low whistle and started to speak. 

“Unless one of the little demons suddenly got real talented, you weren’t kidding about art school, huh?”

You narrowly missed bumping your head on the table edge as you shot up at the sound of Eddie’s voice, heart hammering and stomach flipping in that way you were still trying to ignore. 

The boy was perched against the edge of one of the small tables, legs crossed at the ankles and a too big sweater swallowing him whole. He looked cosy, the cotton a deep maroon and it had the camp logo on the chest, a small tear at the collar and leftover spots of rain over the shoulders. Eddie held up a notepad that you thought you’d placed face down, but he was showing you your own drawings. 

“Architecture,” Eddie was scanning over the sketches of buildings and parkways, tiny trees inked out in black, dotted with what little green paint you could sneak from the kids. “I didn’t expect that.”

You blinked at him, still kneeling on the floor with glitter on your palms, paint on your knees. You lifted a hand and brushed back your hair, blowing out a breath with how flustered you suddenly felt. The large cabin felt warmer than ever and the rain only seemed to get louder. 

It felt like the forest belonged to only the two of you. 

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded awkwardly, feeling shyer than you expected at the sight of your work in Eddie’s hands. It was hardly a portfolio, just a few quick sketches you were able to manage between squabbles over paintbrushes and stolen pens, but it was something. “Most people don’t.”

“You’re good,” Eddie replied and his voice was the most serious you’d heard it. But he was still smiling, corners of his mouth lifted as he scanned over the paper, pinky finger tracing the outline of a building that had wild ivy growing up the brick. “Really good. So, art school, huh?”

You nodded and clambered to your feet as gracefully as you could, leaning against the table across from the boy. If you stretched out your legs enough, the toes of your sneakers almost touched his boots.

“That’s the plan,” you said and gestured to the camp in all its messy glory, mud and rain and paint and glitter. “I’m hoping this place can get me enough cash to even consider it.”

Eddie placed the book back on the desk with the same care you’d watched him handle his guitars with and the sight of it made your chest ache. 

“Which one?” 

The question made your brow furrow, ‘cause so many other people in your life had asked the same question - albeit with a lot more exasperation and condescension than Eddie had. But you gave him the same answer you’d given your parents and your senior year guidance counsellor and shit, even your ex. 

You have a half shrug, eyes to the floor and picked at a fingernail. “I don’t really know yet.” You looked up at the boy and found him looking right back at you, brown eyes soft and warm. “To be confirmed.”

Eddie nodded slowly, pushing off the table and shoving his hands into the pocket on the front of his sweater. He stretched it down over his hips, grinned at you playfully and the mood inside the cabin lifted considerably, like he’d meant it to. 

“You know,” he mused, “there’s a great art school in Philly. One of the best, in fact.” Eddie raised his brows at you suggestively, all whilst doing his best to play coy - you weren’t sure how he managed it, but he pulled it off. 

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes at him in a way that now seemed to be routine. “Is that right?” You asked him, putting on the same overly casual voice he had. “How strange, isn’t that where you live?”

Eddie gasped, ripping a hand from his pocket to grab at his chest instead, damp curls bouncing as he took another step towards you. “Holy shit, you’re right, I do live there.”

You were grinning, not that you had any control over it and Eddie was beaming right back, moving so he could stand in front of you, finally toe to toe. He kicked softly at your sneaker, looking at you fondly from under his lashes. 

“What a coincidence,” he murmured softly.

“You’re flirting with me again,” you replied just as quietly and you tried to sound admonishing but your words came out just a little too breathily. 

He was too close. 

You watched him lick at him bottom lip, tongue peeking out for just a half second but it kept your heart ticking on a too fast beat for much, much longer. 

“If I was flirting,” Eddie started to say, speaking slowly, voice a drawl, as if he were picking his words carefully. “I’d tell you about this nice little spot round the corner from mine. How I’d take you there between classes, split a cheese steak and let you show me all your badass work.”

You were entranced, eyes bush tracing the shapes his lips made as he spoke, the dimple that came and went on his left cheek when he tried not to smile between words. 

“You’d graduate in the summer…” the boy mused and his voice picked up a little, lips stretching out into that wide smile you’d come to love. “We could totally have a fall wedding. I was thinking about early October?”

The spell was broken and you barked out a laugh, a hand shoving at the boy’s shoulder and Eddie grinned at the sound, letting you tip him backwards before he caught himself and acted wounded. 

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you told him but there was affection laced behind the jab and Eddie could hear it, his chest swelling at the sound. 

“But autumn tones suit me so well,” he quipped back and he laughed when you shook your head and moved past him, hiding your amusement by picking up ripped paper that hadn’t quite made it to the trash. 

“What a shame, I think I’m a spring,” you sighed dramatically and you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know the boy was grinning. You could feel it, it lit up the room, it made you feel warm. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Eddie snorted and pushed himself back onto the table, narrowly avoiding a wet splat of blue paint. “Well, if you won’t come to Philadelphia, how about Chrissy’s cabin tonight? Staff get together.” Eddie enticed, legs swinging. “More shit beer, Steve’s awful taste in music and probably some weed if Jonathan and Argyle manage to get into town after dinner.”

“More shit beer?” You repeated, gasping dramatically as you made your way back over to him. You tapped at his boot with your shoe, like you weren’t able to help yourself from reaching out to touch him in some way. “How shitty?”

“Like, the shittiest beer you’ve ever had,” Eddie replied, “very room temp, some would say warm. Definitely flat and the label probably has some questionable tagline on it.”

You were smiling and so was the boy, too warm and too close and Jesus Christ, had you been moving forward? Eddie’s boots brushed your shins and if you took another step, you’d be between his legs that he had most definitely spread for you. 

“How could I say no to that?”

Eddie shrugged, his smile all coy, cheeks a little pink and he was looking at your lips when he replied softly, “how could you say no to me?”

Your lips parted, breath caught in your chest and god, did he hear the way it hitched? Could he hear the way your heart rattled against your rib cage? Surely he could, it felt louder than the storm. 

He didn’t let you reply, not that you knew what to say, not that you could seriously articulate words. Eddie was still smiling, looking as flustered as you felt, like he hadn't meant to flirt, like he didn’t know what to do now that he had. 

 Eddie gestured to your cheek, unsure, pulling back just before he touched you. His gaze was settled on the curve of your top lip and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You have, uh, some paint,” he murmured, “little dot… just there.”

You wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand, suddenly self conscious, wondering what kid managed to splatter you with god knows what colour. You caught your lip, bringing your hand back still clean and you looked at Eddie. 

The boy still looked so unsure, a different kind of shy, but he tilted his chin and said, “c’mere.”

You weren’t sure how you heard him over the rain, the roll of thunder, the way the world outside seemed to roar for you both, like the forest was excited, waiting, watching. 

You moved, hips bumping into Eddie’s knees as he coaxed you forward, a cautious hand on your chin, holding you still so his thumb could smooth over the spot of paint, the pad of it grazing your top lip. 

Eddie’s touch was slow and soft, careful with it, his eyes lowered as he watched what he was doing and you were almost sure he was holding his breath. 

You were. 

“Got it,” Eddie whispered but his hand was still on your cheek, thumb resting on your chin and he was staring at your lips again, eyes hooded and a dark honey. 

You made a quiet noise, maybe an agreement, maybe a thanks, maybe you were just disappointed, but neither of you moved away. Your own hands rested on Eddie’s knees, soft, worn denim under your palms and Eddie murmured your name like a question, head tilting forward—

The door bounced against the wall as it opened, the wind blowing rain and some stray twigs inside, causing you to stumble backwards, your eyes as wide as Eddie’s. 

Murray was standing in the doorway, dripping wet from the rain, glasses smeared with water and he sighed, disgruntled. He flicked his arms out from his body, rain splattering to the cabin floor as he inspected both of you with suspicion. 

Nose wrinkled, he appraised you from over his thick glasses: Eddie’s pink cheeks, the way you couldn’t look at anything but the floor. 

“No,” the older man barked out, indignant. “No, I’m not doing this shit again, for Christ’s sake.”

Murray turned, leaving the way he came with no explanation to his appearance in the first place. He wrestled with the door handle, the old wood sticking in its frame and he cursed. “You’re all rampant. Goddamn kids and - Christ, this door - and their hormones, it’s like living with animals.”

The door finally shifted and slammed, shutting out Murray and the storm, the only evidence he’d been there was a puddle on the floor and some leaves that had blown in, sticking to the streaks of spilled paint. 

Eddie looked at you, heart still thudding in his chest, only to see you busy tidying once again, head ducked down so he couldn’t meet your gaze. 

Whatever had been going to happen, was over. 

—————

Unfortunately, Jason Carver was the one to open the door to Chrissy’s cabin. You hadn’t seen much of the blonde boy around camp - not that you had minded - as he spent most of his shifts at the lake and preferred to disappear into town at night with Billy. 

But he held the door as you and Robin walked in, arms full of the leftover pizza slices the other girl had managed to sneak from the kitchen as she finished dinner service.  

“New girl,” he greeted, taking the time to rake his eyes over your frame instead of helping with the Tupperware. “Buckley. Still not like dick?”

“Go fuck yourself, Carver,” Robin shot back, rolling her eyes and ushering you into the room, dumping the food onto Chrissy’s desk. She grabbed two beers from the obnoxiously large stash, passing them both to Steve to open with the car keys he fished from his pocket. 

“Shame,” Jason called back over the low music, ignoring the way Chrissy swatted at him, cheeks pink with embarrassment as she tried to get him to stop. “You and your friend could’a kept me company later.” His beady eyes settled on you, mouth curled into a smirk. “Gets cold at night, doesn’t it?”

Steve coaxed the beer back into your hand, one arm thrown around his girlfriend’s shoulders and he shook his head at you, grimacing. “Ignore him, he’s swallowed too much lake water or some shit.”

Robin took a swig of her own drink and smirked, nudging a friendly hand to Steve’s shoulder as she said, “we’re ignoring assholes now, huh, Harrington?”

There was a private joke, a hidden story you didn’t know there, and Hawkins grinned too, covering her smile with her cup. 

“His fighting days are over,” she declared, pushing a hand to the boy’s cheeks with such affection that it made you feel like you shouldn’t look. 

Steve scoffed, all false bravado. “Says who?”

His girlfriend smirked and squeezed at his chin a little firmer, just until his lips fell into a pout and she was able to tug him down to her for a kiss. “Me,” she told him as she pulled away and Steve just grinned, no argument left in him. 

“Are we talkin’ about how whipped Stevie is?” Eddie appeared at your side, a beer already in hand as he grinned and dodged the other boy’s fist, snorting when it skimmed his shoulder. 

You tried not to react when his arm brushed your own, when everything suddenly smelled like smoke and rainwater and Eddie. He hadn’t looked at you, in fact, he was actively trying not to, his curls hiding his eyes and when you turned to him just slightly, he ducked his head and took a long pull from his drink. 

“Always,” Robin replied, matter of factly and she grinned at you as if to include you in these plans. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Eddie took another swig from his beer, gulping down the amber liquid almost too enthusiastically for how shit it did actually taste. He was stalling. 

“Uh, private lesson,” he explained grimacing. He still wasn’t looking at you. “Ran a little over.”

It was a lie, it was a huge lie - you knew it - and the truth made your face burn. ‘Cause Eddie had stood frozen after Murray had left, watching you carefully from where he was still by the table, chest hammering. 

He’d been so sure you’d almost kissed him. He was almost positive you had been leaning into him the same way he tilted his chin down to you. But the door had slammed, Murray had yelled and left and the silence that had taken over was more deafening than the rain on the roof. 

So Eddie had coughed a little awkwardly and waited for you to stop cleaning up the mashed glue stick from the carpet and look at him. You’d stopped, sure. You’d even stood up from where you’d been kneeling but you didn’t quite meet the boy’s eye. And when he asked you:

“What just happened?”

You had toed at a forgotten pencil case and shrugged, your hands in the pockets of your shorts and replied, “nothing just happened, Eddie.”

And even though you still didn’t lift your gaze from the floor, Eddie had nodded, lips downturned and eyes sad, before he muttered something that sounded like ‘sure’ and left. 

You’d watched him walk away from the camp, away from the direction of the music workshop and the canon where he held his lessons. In fact, despite the rain, he walked towards the lake, his hood pulled up over his head and his hands shoved in his pockets, the maroon fabric turning darker and darker the further he got from you. 

And now he was standing next to you in the small circle you and his friends had created and he was trying so hard to pretend he couldn’t feel your bare arm pressed against his own, that he couldn’t smell the perfume he knew was yours. 

He took another gulp of his beer, lukewarm and bordering on sour and he could sense your gaze on him. He caught Steve’s eye instead and his friend quirked a brow, gaze searching between him and you, questioning. 

Eddie shook his head, an almost barely noticeable movement but you lifted your beer to your lips, making your arm brush Eddie’s and the boy went pink. 

Steve started humming the opening bars of REO Speedwagon. 

Eddie glared. 

But then Billy was pushing into the small circle, all blonde curls and sharp, blue eyes, his smile even sharper. He clapped Eddie on the shoulder and wrapped an unfamiliar arm around yours, squeezing you into his side. Across from you, Steve and Hawkins scowled, busying themself with grabbing some cold pizza slices. 

“Truth or dare,” Billy announced and he smelled like smoke and whisky, a far cry from the cheap beer everyone else had been left with. “C’mon assholes, look alive.”

Eddie shrugged the boy off and took another beer that Steve offered, eyes hard and staring at the floor as Billy kept his arm around you. You were too polite to move away, too conscious of all the eyes that were on you but you huffed out a laugh and asked:

“Truth or dare? Isn’t that kinda childish?”

Chrissy’s cabin was cast in little light, only a few lamps emitting a low, too warm glow and Billy looked positively dangerous in the shadows as he grinned at you. He tutted and moved to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your face, acting sweet for you. 

“Not the way I play it, darlin’,” he grinned, all teeth and bad intentions and from beside you, Robin pretended to gag. 

“Gross,” she muttered. 

“Revolting,” Hawkins agreed and when Billy scoffed at her, she flipped him the bird and leant against Steve, her back to his chest. 

“That’s a little mean of you, isn’t it, princess?” Billy pouted at her, “considering I’m the damn reason you two are together.” He pointed a finger at the girl and Steve, looking smug. 

The rest of the room groaned, as if Billy taking credit for this was a regular occurrence. 

Again, you felt like you were missing out on a joke that you weren’t privy to, an inside story from a summer that wasn’t yours. So you turned to Billy and raised a brow, questioning. 

“What?” You asked, just as Steve pinned Billy with a stare and said:

“Don’t call her princess.”

But Billy ignored him and kept his arm around you, grinning wider than ever and he leaned in just a little, enough for you to smell his cologne and the nicotine that stuck to his lips.

His voice was all flirt, a soft drawl that made Eddie's nostrils flare. “Haven’t you heard?” Billy asked and he looked at you like he wanted to sneak a bite, like he wanted to know what you tasted like. “I’m practically Cupid.”

The rest of the group snorted and scoffed, all varying sounds of derision but Billy ignored them and just kept smiling, looking too handsome for his reputation, all the stories you’d been told about him. 

“Got your eye on someone, Sugar? I can shoot an arrow or two, see if it sticks,” he winked and god, you didn’t mean it, you couldn’t help it. 

Your gaze flickered to Eddie and fucking hell, he was finally looking back at you too. Billy’s grin turned bigger, wider, sharper. Neon signs flashed in your head and you swore you could hear your mothers voice. Danger! Warning! Retreat!

“Well ain’t that interesting,” he smirked, finally letting go of you. He stole your beer instead, wrapped his lips around the neck and drained the rest, smirking and wiping at his mouth when Steve muttered something that sounded like, ‘fuckin’ prick.’ 

“You sweet on the new girl, huh, Munson?” Billy was outright sneering now, turning to Eddie to poke and prod until he broke.

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Eddie replied lazily, his voice a soft drawl as he leaned against Chrissy’s desk but you could see the way his eyes narrowed, the way his shoulders were set. 

Everyone in the cabin was silent now, eyes on Eddie and Billy as the blonde boy took a step forward and smiled, baring his teeth in a way that could only be taken as a challenge. Your skin prickled. 

“Truth or dare, Teddy bear?” Billy whispered. 

“I’m not playing,” Eddie grunted back. 

“Ooh, forfeit,” Jason laughed from the door, “toilet block duty for a week, Munson, better tie your hair up.”

But neither boy listened, both Eddie and Billy still squaring up to each other, eyes narrowed and jaws set. You looked at Steve, silently asking him to do something but Steve seemed to be waiting for the exact time he needed to jump in. 

“Hey now,” Billy murmured to Eddie, all soft condescension and false friendliness. He looked back at you and licked across his bottom lip, glittering eyes giving away his true intentions. “If you don’t wanna play, I’m sure someone else will happily give her a little bit of attention.”

“Grow the fuck up, Billy,” Robin snapped and her hand slid over your wrist, guiding you towards the door. “Let’s just hang out in my cabin,” she told you softly. 

“Aw, c’mon!” Billy jeered, holding his arms out like he was surrendering. The majority of the room shook their heads at him, not ready to entertain his antics. “I’m Cupid, remember? Y’gotta trust the process.”

The music stuttered and the tape got stuck, the last few notes of whatever Blondie song fizzing with static before it stopped, just as Eddie slammed down his beer and shouldered past Billy. He walked straight towards you, his eyes on yours for what seemed like only the second time that night. 

You saw something wild in them, something new and something different. You realised then that Eddie Munson didn’t do well with being challenged, and with the way Billy was still smirking behind him, it seemed like he knew that too. 

So the thudthudthud of Eddie’s boots on the cabin floor matched your heart beat and Robin let go of your wrist as the boy approached. He’d taken his sweater off from earlier but he still smelled like the storm, like leftover rain and pine from the forest, like a burnt out campfire, a little like a new home.  

The toes of his boots touched your sneakers and you had to tilt your chin up a little to meet his gaze. He looked torn, kind of panicked, pretty in the way he always did but he’d lost the softness that he’d gazed at you with earlier, with paint on your face and glitter pressed to your palms. 

You thought he was going to kiss you. 

His eyes dropped to your lips and nobody spoke, but you heard Billy let out a huff of laughter, a dark chuckle that made your stomach dip and you weren’t supposed to let this happen, even if it was just a stupid game, ‘cause fuck — Eddie was never going to be a hangover and a bad decision you’d try to forget the next day. 

He was standing too close. 

You steeled yourself, wondering if you’d be mad if he kissed you like this. If he kissed you at all. Would you be more angry if he didn’t? This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. 

You felt yourself closing your eyes, lashes soft on your cheeks, just for a second. 

And then he was gone. 

—————

Eddie was sitting outside of his cabin.

The party was long over and you’d stayed behind with Robin to help Chrissy tidy up, keeping your head down as Billy swept past, a leftover beer in his hand and a satisfied smirk on his lips as he got into a car with Jason.

And when you walked through the forest, hearing the whispers of the kids in the cabins as you passed, you noticed a tiny light on the porch steps, the orange red dot of the end of a cigarette in the dark. Eddie stood when you approached, stubbed the end of the smoke out on the railing and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Nerves rolled off of him in waves and he took a step forward, old leaves and pine cones crunching under his boots. You shook your head and kept walking, the light from your own cabin a warm glow only a few dozen feet away. 

“Hey, hey, listen,” Eddie coaxed softly, “can we talk?”

“I’m tired, Eddie,” you began, still taking slow steps towards your own home. 

(And embarrassed and confused and frustrated, but you didn’t say that.)

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” But then you made the mistake of stopping and looking back at the boy and he was all soft curls and softer eyes, sad and glittering. 

He caught your wrist, a gentle hand with careful fingers and his touch was warmer than the night. You looked down, watched his thumb rub at the back of your palm and suddenly you weren’t as sleepy as before. 

Maybe Eddie could sense the sway in you, maybe he was already a little too in tune with the way your body leaned into his. His hand slipped down, fingers skimming over your own and he wasn’t quite holding your hand but it felt just as nice, just as lovely. Eddie pinched your thumb between two of his fingers, looked up at you through his lashes and smiled, too sweet.  

“Can we talk?” Eddie tried again. “Please?”

So you nodded because it was getting harder and harder to say no to the boy, to keep away from the boy - and you knew deep down that you were more angry at yourself than at him. ‘Cause you kept breaking your own rules and you knew fine well that you would’ve let Eddie kiss you. And to be mad at him for doing exactly what you asked him to - to be friends - wasn’t fair in the slightest. 

But he was smiling now, soft and lovely, too sweet to seem real and his hand moved to cover your own and it left you wondering for the hundredth time: would it really be that awful to break some rules?

Eddie led you away from the cabins, hand in yours, fingers tangled in a way that made your skin feel too warm and you were both tripping through the trees in the dark until Hop’s office lights lit up the ground and you could see Eddie’s van parked a just away from the edge of the clearing. 

He fished out his keys from his pocket, wiggled them in the air and quirked his brows. His hand was still in yours and you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat through your fingertips, if you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you. 

Earnest, hopeful, with too much fondness. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked quietly. 

You chanced a look at the cabin behind you, the warm glow from the window letting you both know that Hopper was still up, maybe even Murray and Joyce. 

“Are we allowed?”

Eddie smiled, a soft grin that made your stomach flip ‘cause it was full of nothing good, all mischief and trouble. The night seemed so much warmer, like it was filled with more than just summer, more than the linger heat of the sun. You wondered if it was possible for another person to make you feel like this, like teenagers at your high school locker, nerves like the anticipation of a first kiss behind an oak tree, a passed note that you kept in your drawer for years and years and years. 

He shrugged, too nonchalant. “No,” came the reply. 

You bit your lip to try and hide the grin you gave back, unprepared for the feeling of complete and utter excitement that clawed at your stomach at his words. Eddie’s hand tightened around yours. 

“Okay,” you whispered back. 

It felt like a daydream when Eddie helped you clamber into the front of the van, the inside still stuffy and warm from the afternoon spent sitting in the sun and it smelled like him. Like coffee and rain and smoke and spice, and you grinned at the mess on the floor. An old sweater, the lanyard that was stitched with the camp's logo that only Nancy wore, wrapped around the stick shift. There was an open box of guitar picks on the console, a couple empty cans of soda, sheet music with footprints on it, one drumstick, too many cassette tapes - none in their cases - to count. 

But every inch of the space screamed EddieEddieEddie and it consumed you. You didn’t hesitate to shuffle over to the middle of the bench when the boy sat behind the wheel, close enough that your thigh almost touched his.

You shouldn’t have. 

You didn’t need to. 

You couldn’t help yourself. 

He rolled the windows down as he pulled out of the car park, the headlights off until he reached the main road and neither of you heard Hopper’s truck screeching after you. 

Despite the late hour, there was still a pink tint to the sky, barely there and only making the horizon glow, a leftover streak of colour from where the sun had sunk. The rest of the night was dark, inky black and littered with stars and when the van picked up speed, warm air funnelled through the front of the cab and it picked at you and Eddie’s hair. 

You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t ask. God, you found that you didn’t really care. 

So you let the wind cool down your sun warmed skin and you smiled when Eddie hit the button for the radio, a song coming on soft and low, an acoustic guitar and lyrics that were much sweeter than you expected. Neither of you said much, but Eddie tapped out a beat on the steering wheel and your gaze went between his profile and the trees that blurred at the side of the road. 

You drove until the wilderness became a little more tamed, until the darkness fed into streetlights and the roads got a little bigger. Toy sized towns sprung up from the forests, gas stations with two pumps, sleepy sidewalks and neon signs that flickered in the night. 

Eddie pulled up to a diner, one with wrap-around windows and red, leather booths, an aquamarine sign that flashed ‘OPEN 24/7.’ It was easy to follow him into the building, to get swallowed up by the smell of fries and coffee. The floors were a little sticky and the waitresses looked tired, the three other diners barely glancing back at you both as the bell above the door signalled your arrival. 

The boy ordered two milkshakes, one chocolate and one strawberry and he batted away your hand as you tried to push some dollar bills into his. There was a smile on his face as he did it, soft lips and soft curls and even softer eyes, and he gave no explanation as he took the large cups from over the counter and headed back outside. 

“You not letting me pay seems an awful lot like a date, Eddie,” you called out across the parking lot. 

He barely looked back at you as he headed to the van, a soft laugh caught in his throat as stood in front of the driver’s side door and grinned. When he did turn to face you, he looked like trouble, holding up the two shakes as he nodded down to his waist. 

“Grab the keys for me, sweetheart?” 

It sounded like another dare. 

You could’ve taken a milkshake from him. You really could’ve. In fact, all common sense told you that that’s exactly what you should’ve done. But you took a step forward and then another and another, toe to toe with the boy until you were both bathed under the aquamarine light, Eddie’s cheeks shades of pink and blue. 

Maybe he didn’t think you’d do it. Maybe he was only joking. 

But he held his breath and you could feel the air change when you curled your fingers around his jeans pocket, tugging a little cause the denim was too tight and Christ, you could feel the expanse of his thigh underneath when you fished for the car keys, the metal jingling in the quiet. He stared at you the entire time, sugar and strawberries filling the air and you gazed right back, chin lifted up to meet his eyes almost defiantly. 

You weren’t sure what you were trying to prove, but you were pretty sure it was the opposite of what you were supposed to be doing. 

The lock clicked and you didn’t look at Eddie as you walked to the other side, climbing back into the van that suddenly felt so much smaller than before. You kept your back to the passenger door this time, further away from the boy who was looking at you like he was scared you might take up cross country in order to get back to camp. 

He offered you both shakes, smiling and nodding when you took the strawberry with a quiet thank you. You both drank in silence for a minute or two, the parking lot emptying of what little vehicles remained and when the clock on the dash hit two, you and Eddie were alone. 

“Are you mad at me?” Eddie eventually asked, soft and a little apprehensive, looking over at you with worry in his eyes. “For not kissing you?”

Your breath shook as you let it out. 

“I mean, I didn’t know if— ‘cause you don’t want to kiss me, right? Or anybody, really, I s’pose— you have your rule and I totally get it but you seem like you’re mad at me and—”

“Eddie,” you tried to shush the boy, but your voice was too soft and too small and Eddie kept rambling. 

“—and maybe I’m crazy but in the cabin when it was raining… it seemed like you wanted to kiss me then too, but shit, maybe I’m just being optimistic, ‘cause I know you don’t wanna get involved in anything and I respect that and I’m happy to be your friend- so happy - but I don’t know what I was supposed to do—”

“Eddie.” You’d moved suddenly enough to surprise him, his words falling short as you shuffled to the middle of the bench, sitting on your knees as you gazed at him imploringly. 

You smiled around a sigh, a soft, sad noise that made Eddie’s lips turn down and you were gentle when you took his half empty cup from him, sitting it on the dash along with yours. 

“I’m not mad at you,” you explained when you turned back to him, your fingers pulling at a thread on the hem of your shirt, stomach tumbling at the thought of telling Eddie too much. “I’m pissed at myself, actually.”

Eddie’s brows shot up and a boyish confusion took over his features. He shook his head softly at you, as if to explain he didn’t understand. But he sat quietly, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m annoyed ‘cause I think I did want you to kiss me,” you closed your eyes briefly at your admission, not wanting to see the way hope flashed across the boy’s face.  “And I shouldn’t want that ‘cause I told you I wasn’t getting involved with anyone and that’s not fair to you.”

You sighed again and it sounded even sadder, a huff of breath that hitched in the middle but you kept going, the cadence of your voice pitching higher as you rambled, the same way the boy had. 

“It’s so entirely unfair and I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of bitch who’s leading you on, ‘cause I’m not! Or at least, I don’t mean to be - fuck - and I’m sorry if I am and I don’t want this to be confusing or complicated or, or, shit I don’t know.” You took a pause to breathe, blinking at Eddie who just stared back, eyes too pretty to look away from this time round. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you said sullenly, as if meeting the boy before you was the worst thing in the world. Maybe it was. “And I’m sorry ‘cause I’m being real selfish, ‘cause I don’t wanna stay away from you and I like it when you call me nice things and when you meet me for breakfast and I think about ki—”

You broke off again and squeezed your eyes shut tight, like that would keep your secrets in too. And when that didn’t seem to work, you groaned and brought your hands to your face, fingertips still cold from holding your shake and you pressed them meanly over your lashes. 

“M’really sorry, Eddie.”

You heard a soft laugh, barely there and not unkind, an even quieter tsk before two strong hands wrapped themselves around your wrists and tugged gently. You let Eddie guide your palms away from your face and when you opened your eyes, he was a little closer than before. 

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he whispered. “And you’re certainly not a bitch.” 

You blinked at him, trying to keep the frustrated tears you wanted to let out at bay. 

“I like being around you too,” Eddie continued and he was looking at you in that way that made your stomach twist. “And if you only think you wanted to kiss me—”

You let out an embarrassed groan and Eddie grinned. 

“—that’s okay. I can wait until you know for certain. And if you don’t, then we can still be friends, like we are right now.”

Nothing about your relationship with Eddie felt friendly. Every look and every touch felt electric, like the air around you both knew more than you did, ‘cause it fizzed and buzzed every time he was around. It felt like something else, something more. 

“But for the record,” Eddie whispered conspiratorially, pink in the cheeks

despite the way he tried to act all theatrical for you. “I wanted to kiss you.”

You ducked your chin to your chest to try and hide the way you smiled, an embarrassing scrunch of your nose but Eddie saw and he grinned wider, you could feel it, you could sense the way the space between you turned lighter and heavier all at once. 

When you looked back up, Eddie was watching you, head tilted and curls a little messy and wild. He was still holding your wrists, his wide hands covering some of your own and you weren’t sure if he even realised. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for something else yet,” you told him and you hated the way you sounded scared. “My last relationship was so— so shit.”

“That’s okay too, well - the first part is. The second part is definitely shitty,” Eddie said, so soft it hurt and god, you believed him. He licked his lips, nervous and unsure, parting them as if to say something else but he stopped. 

“What?” You prompted and you flipped your hands in his, palm to palm, so you were able to touch a thumb to the underside of one ring. 

“Would it be so bad?” He asked, almost too quiet to hear. “To try?”

You took a breath, held the question and the answer in your chest until it burned and you wondered if it would be. Logic ceased to exist as you thought about leaning forward and pressing your lips to Eddie’s, the idea of your mouth parting slowly against his own was enough to make heat creep up the back of your neck. 

You wondered what he’d taste like, if he’d kiss you soft, if he’d kiss you rough, like all his patience had run out and he just had to have you. You thought about his hands, if he’d be soft with them too, if he’d hold you sweet by the waist or if he’d cup your jaw and pull you closer to him. Maybe he’d make pretty sounds for you, maybe he’d groan and sigh low and sweet when your tongue touched his, maybe he’d pull away to whisper in your ear, run his mouth like you knew he was good at. 

You were leaning in. 

You didn’t even realise. 

Eddie was too. 

Hands still tangled and resting on your lap, his breath mixing with your own as his forehead touched yours. A curl tickled your cheek and when the bridge of your nose bumped softly against the boy’s, your lashes fluttered as your eyes closed and your heart was thumpingthumpingthumping. 

Your brain was yelling. It sounded like your mother, like your ex and it sounded like you, shouting at them both that you didn’t need a relationship and you didn’t need boys and how this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Maybe you pulled back, maybe you just stopped. Or maybe Eddie just knew you better than you thought, ‘cause it had been three weeks of camp and he knew how you liked to visit the lake at least once a day, how you always woke up early and you liked it best when it rained through the night so you could sleep to the sounds of it. 

Eddie sat back in the seat, took his hands with him and left yours feeling colder than they should’ve. 

Before you could panic, before you could say sorry again and again, before the tears you felt thicken the back of your throat, Eddie smiled. He handed you back your milkshake, a little more melted than before. 

“You don’t have to kiss me,” he said gently, and his words hurt your chest but he kept talking. “You don’t have to prove anything to me - or yourself,” he added. 

He took a second to lean back in, just a little, the hand not holding his shake lifting to your face so he could push back a piece of hair that had fallen across your forehead. You think he just wanted a reason to touch you, and you realised then you’d let him do that as much as he wanted. 

“I don’t want you to kiss me if you’re not sure,” he explained. “And I don’t want to make you feel rushed or—”

“You don’t,” you interrupted and your voice felt too loud for the front of the van, for the soft quiet, the blue light and strawberry air. “You don’t make me feel like that at all, Eddie. I just— I feel…”

Scared, torn, nervous, hypocritical. 

You looked at him, sad, doe eyed and nervous, and if you chewed at your poor bottom lip any longer, Eddie was going to have to save it with gentle fingers. 

“How ‘bout this,” Eddie said soft and lovely, like a secret, “if you work out how you feel, and you work out what you want…” he trailed off, felt brave again and took your hand back in his, a thumb running over the back of it. “Come find me, yeah? Let me know.”

You nodded, fingertips pushed to his palm, across the tiny guitar string scars and rough calluses. 

“‘Cause I really like you,” he whispered. 

“I like you too,” you whispered back and Eddie smiled, wide and bright and adorably shy. 

“Good to know,” he nodded but his cheeks were flushed and he let go of your hand for the last time, curling his own back around the steering wheel. “We, uh, we better head back before Steve starts a search party for us.”

“For you, you mean,” you snorted. 

“Don’t be jealous,” the boy quipped back but he was smiling. “This is gotta be the part of the script where the van breaks down on us, right?”

You laughed again, a soft huff and sounded so fond that it made Eddie’s chest ache. You were busy clipping your seatbelt back in, your shake almost empty and wedged behind your thighs and Eddie tried not to stare, he really did.  

“And then what happens?” You asked, peering over at him, wondering if it was safe to ask, if you wanted to know. 

Eddie shrugged, gave a sort of half smile that told you he was already thinking it over. “Depends what horror movie you like best, I guess.”

You scrunched your nose and watched the lights turn Eddie from aquamarine to a too warm orange as he rolled out of the diner’s parking lot. “A horror?”

‘I thought this was supposed to be a romance,’ you wanted to say. 

You didn’t. 

“Yeah, pick your poison sweetheart,” Eddie laughed, gaining a little more speed as he left the town behind and the only light came from the moon. “Ghostface with a knife? He gets me first when I go look for help,” Eddie wiggled his brows at you theatrically. “Or how ‘bout a good old fashioned zombie mob, huh? They surround the van and I obviously sacrifice myself to save you.”

You snorted, too amused. “Obviously,” you tell him. 

“But once I’m all zombified, I turn on you,” Eddie grinned wide when you gasped, overly dramatic, just for him. “Start nibblin’ on that pretty neck like a chicken tender.”

You shake your head at him, still laughing. “You’re horrid.”

The boy shrugged, drove the van slowly through the skinny, dirt roads back into the forest. And when he stopped and killed the engine, silence settled over you both in a way it didn’t in town. Something far away chirped. 

“Yeah, I know,” he appeased. His gaze settled on you, wide and bright even in the dark, a lot more hopeful too. “But you like me.”

PART TWO

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fic

[jessejaredstories]

Twisted Wish

Matthew was an average, everyday kind of guy from the suburbs. He was the 22 year old only child of happily married parents with middle class standing. He was also in his last year of college with a major in history. The only thing that helped set him apart was the fact that he was gay, but even his sexuality didn't really matter much in a big city full of twinks like him. All things considered, Matthew was a pretty ordinary guy with nothing particularly remarkable about him.

However, just because Matthew lived a normal life doesn't mean he didn't have his own set of problems. For example, he was 22 going on 23 and he was still a virgin who has never even had a real boyfriend. Sure, he had gone on plenty of first dates, but none of them ever went anywhere beyond the first date. It was the lack of romantic and sexual experience that made up Matthew's biggest insecurities. There were nights where he would stay up wondering if he would ever find Mr. Right. But what really made Matthew insecure was his roommate Dave. 

Dave was a player. He was a lady's man through and through. In the short year Matthew's known him, Dave had already gone through 3 girlfriends and was currently working on his fourth. But that was just the girls he's dated, Dave's had plenty of side chicks too. Everytime a new one popped up, Matthew already knew he was gonna get sexiled and made himself scarce without Dave asking him to. Despite how often it happened, Matthew honestly didn't mind Dave's horny habits. Though he would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Dave. If some frat bro like Dave could get laid anytime he wanted, why couldn't he? 

One Saturday night, while Matthew was by himself in the apartment, he spent the evening on his phone. He was endlessly scrolling through several social media sites while streaming some random movie for background noise. Matthew spent several hours online before finally getting tired of his phone. He began closing all the tabs, but during his clicking frenzy, he accidentally hit a pop-up ad. The pop-up took him to another website called "Reality Wizard." The ugly, gaudy colors of the website caught Matthew's interest just before he could exit out. Matthew took a moment to read the website’s welcome message. It read:

“Make a wish and the Reality Wizard will make it come true.”

From what Matthew could gather, the “Reality Wizard” seemed to be some online genie game. It seemed pretty straightforward albeit cheaply made. The little genie avatar had its arms open as if it was beckoning Matthew to make a wish. Something about its digital eyes made Matthew uncomfortable. He felt as if it was somehow looking directly at him despite it just being a static image on his phone. It was surreal to say the least. 

But instead of simply exiting out of the website, Matthew decided to play along with it. He didn’t have anything better to do after all, so why not play along and make a wish to a fake genie? Matthew laid back on his bed as he thought about what to wish for. Then after a minute of thinking, he typed in his wish.

“I wish I could get laid just as much as my straight roommate does.”

Matthew chuckled as he finished typing up his wish. While there was some actual sentiment behind it (he was a desperate virgin after all), Matthew found more humor in making the genie respond to something dirty and see what happens. He hit submit and waited. The screen reloaded after a second, but all that changed was the genie’s eyes were now closed. Matthew waited a while longer but nothing else happened. 

Once he was bored again, Matthew finally closed out of “Reality Wizard.” The night was still young when Matthew found himself alone with nothing else to do. That was when he decided to do what any other guy would do: jerk off! 

Matthew pulled down his sweats and let his soft dick flop out while he pulled up an incognito tab on his phone. He then went straight to PHub to find a good video to rub one out to. But unfortunately for Matthew, there was nothing worth clicking on on the home page. He then spent the next 10 or so minutes searching for a good video. By the time he found one, he had ended up in the MMF video category. Matthew didn’t mind a woman in his videos, he could just focus on the men after all. He hit play, skipped to the good part, and started jerking off.

Between Matthew and the trio in the video, moans and groans quickly began to fill the empty apartment as Matthew pumped away at his cock. Despite being a total bottom, Matthew still had an above average length clocking in at about 6 inches. Even though his dick never saw any fucking action, it still made jerking off fun as he used both hands to stroke himself. 

“Aww fuck yeah…” The trio had switched into a sandwich position with one of the men getting fucked while fucking the woman at the same time. Matthew was loving the man on man action. “Fuck that man ass! Make him your bitch!!”

While Matthew was jerking off, the wish he had just made to the “Reality Wizard” began to come true! But not in the way Matthew expected…

The genie’s magic began to take effect. Matthew was always a skinny twink, but the wish he made caused his body to change. His body was quickly gaining weight until Matthew had some heft to his figure. His arms and thighs filled in with the extra mass, as did his chest until he had big enough pecs to grab and squeeze. The same happened to his ass! Although he already had a nice, perky ass before the changes, Matthew now possessed the bubble butt of a gym rat. Even his cock and balls grew until he had an obscenely long and girthy member. His new dick was now 7.5 inches and hung low like a bull with how heavy his cum filled balls had become.

After the extra mass came the body hair. Matthew’s once perfectly smooth body began sprouting hair everywhere! His hair grew out until he had shoulder length curls like Tarzan. His face tingled as a full beard and mustache quickly grew in. His chest and midsection got covered with a fine layer of brown hair. Even his pit and pubic hair grew and grew until he had an unruly forest of hair in each area. By the time the transformation was finally over, Matthew had become an unrecognizable version of himself as he was now a testosterone-filled, hairy beast of a young man. 

But even though Matthew just went through a magical transformation, his mind was still focused entirely on jerking off to the video. The two men and one woman were still going hard at it in a line. The camera angles kept alternating between focusing on the two men and focusing on the woman getting fucked. Matt’s favorite was seeing the man’s cheeks getting clapped from behind. 

“Oh fuuuck I’m close..” 

Matt threw his head back against his pillow. He could feel the pressure building up in his throbbing cock as he was getting ready to shoot his load out. He picked up his stroking speed. He was getting sweaty and red in the face as he was getting closer and closer to finishing. 

Matt lifted his head again when he heard the woman begging for more. He kept his eyes focused on the video. The video had a wide shot which showed all three of them. Matt started with the two men, but as he kept stroking, he found his eyes unconsciously gravitating towards the woman. Matt wasn’t sure why he did that. He shifted his attention back to men, but found himself focusing back on the woman again within seconds. Suddenly, the woman was all Matt could focus on. Even if he tried to look away he just couldn’t! Even if he tried to imagine a hot man with a hung cock all Matt could picture was a woman with massive tits! Matt was panting at the sight of the woman’s tiddies bouncing up and down as she took a pounding. Her beautiful body was wet with sex sweat. Seeing her throw her head back as she let out a loud moan made Matthew tremble and twitch with anticipation. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to burst!

Matt let out a guttural groan as ropes of warm cum shot out of his engorged cock. His hairy chest became drenched with his spunk. Even by the time he finished shooting load after load, his dick was still twitched and throbbing with how much cum he shot out. Matt sighed with relief as he threw his arms back to cool down after such an intense jerk off session. His body hair was dripping with how drenched it was with sweat and cum. On top of that, the room now reeked of a man’s sweaty musk, but Matt didn’t care. He was satisfied and content. 

Once Matt finally caught his breath, it was time for him to clean up the sticky mess he just made. His initial instinct was to gather up all his cum with his fingers and then swallow it all, but Matt stopped when he realized how fucking gay that was. He had absolutely no interest in ever tasting cum. After all, why would a straight guy like Matt want to swallow cum? 

Matt went to the bathroom and cleaned the jizz off his body. He then went ahead and changed his bed sheets too due to dripping all over them. Once that was done, Matt stood in his bedroom. He then lifted his arm up, letting the wild bush of pit hair hang free as he took a deep sniff of himself. Matt could smell some musk, but decided it wasn’t anything some cologne couldn’t cover up. 

“Yo! Anyone home?” 

Matt’s ears perked up when he heard his roommate Dave call out. He then walked out and greeted his best bud by dabbing him up. Matt and Dave were brothers from different mothers and were known for their unbeatable bromance.

“Dave, my man! What are you doing home so early!? It’s barely midnight!”

“I know, bro, but check it, Darcy just invited me to go check out this new club downtown with her. It’s hella exclusive, you gotta come with us, Matt! I need my shotgun brother there if I’m gonna club all night!! Plus, Darcy’s got a friend. Brianna, I think you’ll like her…”

“She cute?” Matt asked with an eyebrow raised. Dave nodded. “Cup size?”

“Double D’s, AND she never wears a bra when she goes out! Trust me bro, you gotta meet her, I know for a fact y’all are perfect together!!”

Matt was convinced the moment he heard “D.” He was always a boobs over ass kinda guy after all. Matt quickly got dressed, then went out to have the best night of his life at the club with his bro Dave, ending with them tag teaming Darcy and Brianna in bed. All while Matt was completely oblivious to the fact that the Reality Wizard had granted his wish. Matt definitely got laid just like his straight roommate Dave, just like he wished, although he probably didn’t expect the online genie to twist his carelessly worded wish. Not that Matt really cared about his former self, after all, he had a girlfriend with two very big reasons why he should enjoy the new reality he wished for himself.

#male transformation

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Weasleys Aren't Great Parents...

I know a lot here love to talk about how the Weasleys were so good to take Harry in and all that... But the truth is, the parenting skills of Molly and Arthur Weasley are questionable at best.

I'm not saying they don't love their kids and Harry — they do, and they do so honestly. I'm just here to say they aren't actually a good example of parenting.

Like, when fans talk about the Weasleys what I usually see is either treating them like they are a perfect example of a family or unfair bashing. So, while I definitely believe that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love their kids, this post showcases where their parenting skills are lacking...

So, the Weasleys, to Harry, seem like the perfect example of a happy, loving family. Now, I'm not saying there isn't love there, but the family dynamics we see aren't great, to put it lightly. Harry just has no reference for anything better.

Children Running Away

The first thing I want to mention here is that all Weasley children leave the Burrow and their parents the first chance they get.

Bill goes to work for Gringotts in Egypt.

Charlie goes to tame dragons in Romania.

Percy, well, Percy is a whole can of worms right there. But once his parents shun him for being more successful than his father in the ministry, he doesn't look back.

Fred and George leave Hogwarts in the middle of their seventh year and move out of home then, before their even done with school.

I don't think that's normal. This is what we see in houses where there is mistreatment of children, so they don't want to stay any moment longer than necessary. Because all of this, what all of them did, was running away from home.

Each of these Weasleys was seventeen — maybe eighteen when he chose to leave (sometimes the country). This is running away, even if they still talk to their parents, they did rub away from living under the same roof.

This already suggests to me something unhealthy is going on there.

favoritism

Any child psychologist would tell you one of the worst things a parent could do is pick favorites amongst their children. All children, favored or not, suffer from it.

And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.... well, they showcase favoritism constantly, here is an example from Order of the Phoenix:

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” said George, smirking. “Match his what?” said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.” Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?” Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” “What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 163)

Molly is so glad to have prefects in the family, that she actually ignores the fact Fred and George aren't prefects and are her kids. George actually calls her out on it, except she isn't actually listening to him l. No, she pushes him aside. This treatment is insane, and I don't blame them for up and leaving the moment they turned seventeen.

This favoritism is seen more, this is from Chamber of Secrets:

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred. “YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —” It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 38)

Prefect Percy is better than Fred and George and they should learn from him and be more like him, according to Mrs. Weasley. This sort of comparison between children is really harmful to their development and is frowned upon by most. Definitely by me.

Not to mention how Harry is definitely a favorite of hers, so much so he does not get shouted at for the same crime, but get's food. That is honestly the bare minimum she can do for him considering...

Harry's Abuse

The Weasleys are aware of Harry's abuse. They are made aware of it time and time again, and with all their love for Harry — they do nothing more than give him food when he asks. I don't think I need to explain why this is terrible.

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. “It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.“They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

George here outright tells her Harry was being starved — this goes ignored. When Harry writes to her to send him food, she sends it, but doesn't ask him why he isn't being fed:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

No, she sent him food but didn't bother doing anything to help a child out of a clearly abusive situation. Not even asking why he isn't getting enough food.

Arthur Weasley isn't any better. He knows just as much as Molly and even met Harry's pleasant relatives:

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 48)

He acts as if the Dursleys are normal. As if a child saying their caretakers wouldn't care he wasn't there isn't cause for alarm. No, Arthur Weasley just thought it impolite and odd, but not enough to actually do something to help Harry. Just annoy Uncle Vernon.

Blaming Kids For Things Not Their Fault

“You?” she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs and replacing it in front of her. “Why should I be worried about you?” “When Mum’s next letter finally gets through Umbridge’s screening process,” said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, “I’m going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent a Howler again.” “But —” “It’ll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,” said Ron darkly. “She’ll say I should’ve stopped them leaving, I should’ve grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it’ll be all my fault. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 679)

After Fred and George leave Hogwarts, Ron tells Hermione she should worry about him because he would suffer their mother's ire. He speaks about it as if it's a regular occurrence. Like he regularly gets blamed for Feed and George's mishaps when the twins aren't there.

This is incredibly unfair to Ron, Fred, and George. There is no reason Ron should fear his parent's response for something he had no control over.

Conclusions

As I stated above, I don't think Arthur and Molly Weasley are abusive or neglectful or that they don't love their kids. They are far from perfect, loving, and dotting parents I see them sometimes portrayed as. Neither are they as awful as I sometimes see them. Like many characters in this series, they are more complex than that.

#harry potter #harry potter theory #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hp theory #overthinking #wizarding world #harry potter analysis #molly weasley #arthur weasley #the weasleys #the weasly twins #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #percy weasley

[chahnniesroom]

for better, for worse | part 2

pairing: lee minho x female reader

summary: an arranged marriage is anything but ideal. minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he's lacking, but you haven't exactly been the perfect wife either. a phone call from you leads to a shift in priorities.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, non-graphic descriptions of injury

a/n: this was a highly requested part 2! please please read part 1 before you read this, otherwise it will not make sense. thanks to everyone who commented on the first part, it really motivated me to finish this! i did minimal/basically no editing, so sorry if there's any mistakes!

part 1 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Traffic has slowed to a crawl and Minho tries his best to stay calm, but based on the way his driver keeps checking the rearview window to look at him, he’s not doing a good job. 

They don’t even know the right hospital to go to. You had never specified in your call, so Minho had just looked up the closest one that was on the route to the hotel. 

Honestly, he’s also shocked that he dropped everything to go to you. He just can’t shake the way that you had sounded on the phone. Scared, yes, but mostly… resigned.

You didn’t think that Minho would care, he realises with a jolt. You didn’t think that he would give up this work opportunity to go see you. He feels terrible, of course he does. At the end of the day, it’s not that he hates you, or even dislikes you, but just hates this whole situation. 

He needs to talk to you. Make sure that you’re okay. Explain himself. Apologise.

But first, he has to get to you.

The longer they sit at a standstill, the antsier Minho gets. He can’t stop his leg from shaking and he has to rip off his tie because he feels like he can’t get enough air in.

“There was an accident,” the driver says, speaking for the first time since they left the hotel. They inch forward a little bit more until Minho can see one of the cars in question. It’s completely mangled, the front end is destroyed and there’s debris strewn along the street. It’s no wonder that the traffic is so bad, the site that has been closed off is almost an entire intersection.

“It looks awful,” Minho says, a sudden feeling of dread coming over him. He cranes his neck to try and see the other vehicle and-

It’s almost unrecognisable, but somehow, Minho knows that it’s his car that he’s looking at.

He doesn’t process anything until he’s out on the street, stumbling through the police tape. An officer approaches him, saying something in a calm voice, but Minho doesn’t even notice until they put a hand on his shoulder. He shoves it off immediately. Another officer grabs his arm, this time with more force.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t be here.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Minho fights against their attempts to restrain him. “It’s- I have to- my wife.” His voice sounds ruined, as wrecked as the vehicles in front of him.

They let him through. 

Minho knows that you’re okay, that you were being treated, that you had been able to call and talk to him. But the damage is so extensive that he’s suddenly doubting himself. It seems impossible that anybody could survive this.

Before he can get close enough to really see inside the car, he stops in his tracks. It already looks so terrible, he can’t bear to any more details that would no doubt haunt him in his dreams.

“Do you know where they took her?” he manages to ask.

“Sir?” The officer closest to him steps closer to hear him better.

“The person that was a passenger. What hospital did they take her to?”

The officer names the closest hospital to the site, the one that Minho had guessed previously. Minho thanks him and spins on his heel, rushing back to where his current driver has been idling on the side. They make it there in record time.

The hospital staff redirect Minho to the intensive care unit when he arrives, giving him sympathetic glances as they do so. It’s on the second floor and Minho doesn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator, opting to run up the stairs instead.

The nurse at the desk in the intensive care unit looks up as Minho approaches. He must look like a mess, but she must be used to this level of dishevelment from visitors based on her lack of reaction.

“I’m looking for Lee Y/n,” Minho pants.

“What’s your relation to the patient?” she asks.

“I’m her husband,” Minho says and for the first time, the title feels natural.

“One moment, please.” The nurse takes her time, typing on her keyboard and clicking her mouse. Minho has to resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understands the urgency of the situation. “She’s currently in room 103.”

Minho immediately starts walking in that direction before she calls out.

“Sorry sir, but her current conditions means that only one visitor is allowed in at a time. You’ll have to wait.”

“What do you mean?” Minho demands. “There’s already someone here? What’s her condition?”

“Yes, Y/n-nim has a visitor with her at the moment.”

“Who.”

“I’m sorry, I was not the attending nurse when he arrived. I don’t know who it is.”

“Can you get them to leave?”

“Pardon me?” The nurse blinks up at him dumbly.

“Leave. I need to see Y/n, she’s my wife! Why can’t I-”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down, otherwise I’m going to have to call security to escort you off the premises,” the nurse says slowly. Minho closes his mouth abruptly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths.

“Okay, okay, I’m calm. Please can I see her?” Minho pleads. “Can you talk to whoever the other visitor is, tell them that I’m here? I need to know if she’s okay.” The nurse purses her lips together, then stands. Minho almost feels dizzy with relief.

“I will inform Y/n-nim’s doctor and the visitor about your arrival, but that is all. You will have to wait for them to leave before you can enter.”

“Thank you,” Minho says.

He trails after her for a moment until they get to the room that you are staying in. After a pointed glance from the nurse, Minho drops into one of the chairs that line the hallway. She enters the room, closing the door behind her. A moment later, the nurse exits, alone.

“I let them know that you were here, sir,” she says. She leaves, walking back to her station before Minho can get a word in.

Minho sits and waits and tries not to worry and fails. He spends his time wracking his brain on who could be in the room with you and why they would refuse to let him in. He can’t think of who would be informed and have enough time to arrive ahead of him, not when he knows that your parents are currently out of the country.

The door finally opens and out steps Kim Seungmin, your childhood best friend and one of Minho’s least favourite people on the planet. He slows to a stop in front of Minho and takes a moment to study him. Seungmin’s eyes are red and swollen like he’s been crying, but his expression is a careful mask of indifference.

“Minho-ssi,” Seungmin says politely. “I didn’t think I would see you here.”

“Of course I’m here,” Minho bristles. “I’m her husband.”

“Hmm,” Seungmin says, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he considers his next words. “That’s never seemed to matter before.”

Minho hates Kim Seungmin.

“I-”

“Take care of her, Minho-ssi.” Seungmin moves closer until he’s practically breathing the same air as Minho. His tone is no longer condescending, just sad. “She’s already hurting. Don’t make things worse.” He side-steps around MInho and continues down the hall. Minho stares after him until he disappears around a corner.

Minho hates Kim Seungmin, but really, Minho just hates himself. Hates that Seungmin has a spot in your life that Minho will never have.

He had been impatient before, but now Minho feels nervous about seeing you. He’s treated you poorly in the past, maybe you wouldn’t even want to see him. Not like you would want to see Seungmin. 

He takes a deep breath, then pushes the door open.

You’re awake, but your eyes look hazy, gaze drifting around the room until they lock onto Minho. Your brows furrow then jump in surprise.

“Minho-ssi? What-” You scramble to sit upright, letting out a hiss of pain the second that you move. The doctor, who Minho hadn’t even noticed, rushes forward, urging you to lie back down without success.

“Please, Y/n-nim,” the doctor says. “You need to rest right now.”

“But-”

“Y/n,” Minho says. Your gaze snaps to him. He hadn’t even realised he has made his way to your bedside until he reaches forward a hand and it touches your shoulder. He leads you back to rest against your pillows and this time, you go willingly.

Now that you’re calmer, the doctor stands. Minho glances over, but immediately turns his attention back to you. He can talk to the doctor later, right now he wants to make sure that you’re okay. Behind him, he hears footsteps leaving the room and the click of the door closing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“But, the speech-”

“I was worried about you. I needed to see you with my own eyes,” Minho says quietly. You close your mouth slowly, unable to think of a response.

There’s countless cuts and scratches littering your skin, bandages peeking out from beneath your clothes, bruises blossoming in the remaining skin, and that’s just what he can see at a glance. Almost nothing has been left unscathed. At your side, there’s a number of screens that are each monitoring something and a cluster of IV drips lead back to your arm.

Minho’s afraid to touch, afraid to hurt you even more. 

He ghosts his hand across your cheek before shifting slightly to push back some hair that’s fallen over your face. You watch with wide eyes, not saying a word, although your cheeks slowly flush under his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says eventually, but doesn’t feel like enough. “I know I haven’t been a good husband.”

You open your mouth in protest, but Minho bulldozes on, determined to make things clear even if his heart is hammering in his chest and his words are coming out shaky.

“I’ve been distant, negligent, too focused on work. I know that this situation has been… difficult. That for both of us, it wasn’t what we expected for our futures, but it doesn’t excuse the way that I’ve behaved. I know that even though it wasn’t my intention to, I hurt you.” He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts. You stay quiet, clearly sensing that he hasn't finished his train of thought. “Y/n, I know there’s nothing that I can do to make up for the hurt that I caused. I know I can’t take back the pain you went through. But I promise, from now on, I’ll put you first.”

“Okay,” you say, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Okay?” Minho asks.

“We can start over, make things right. I know I haven’t done my best in this relationship either, but I want to try again.”

“Thank you,” he says in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry that it took this to make me come to my senses.” He reaches out, grasps your hand in his, careful of all the little cuts. 

Minho holds your hand and he doesn’t let go, even when you drift off to sleep.

part 1 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

#for better for worse #till death do us part collection #chahnniesroom #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz fic #skz x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x female reader #lee minho x you #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho angst #lee know angst #skz imagines #stray kids #lee know #lee minho