#i had a very jim day today!

[christiangeistdorfer]

JIM CLARK and COLIN CHAPMAN eating icy poles during the 1965 BELGIAN GRAND PRIX

[merlinoutofcontext]

I love reigniting Merlin Fandom Lore

[thatonecrookedsmile]

Before the month started, I had made my own tierlist of projects and announcements that are/will be shown during the special FNAF anniversary week based on how excited I was/am for them. The highest ones are the ones I'm most interested in and the lowest ones are the ones I'm…not.

I did this at the end of July, and only now did I remember to post it here.

The week is going well, but it's this second half that will be more interesting.

OG Tierlist/Template.

[cementcornfield]

.

[wonderlandwalker]

Second Chances | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox Summary: Eddie royally screws up your first date (read part 1 here) Content Warnings / Tags: fluff (i think), swearing, the worst luck ever, no use of y/n, henderson!reader, reader is described to have some freckles idk, prolly a lot of spelling errors that I'll fix later read now at your own will Word Count: 1.4k A/N: so I kinda went through some trauma this past month but I just started ADHD meds and surprise surprise they work. Still didn't proofread this and am purely posting it cause I literally just wrote all of it in one go and I have poor impulse control even the meds can't fix that

He was late, and he only knew he was late because Wayne had gotten home and wondered what he was still doing at home. Now normally Wayne wouldn't have bothered grilling the guy, but Eddie hadn't been able to shut up about this for a week. Turns out this day was the day the kitchen clock had decided to stop working, resulting in a TV remote being flung at it the moment Eddie realised, because, of course, it had to be today, of course, his luck would run out again. But Wayne wouldn't let him give up that easily, because as he said it: "fate can go fuck itself, go over there and grovel", which honestly wasn't such a bad idea. So here he was now, definitely speeding, definitely more nervous than he already was, and definitely praying to any god who would listen for help. Because this was your first date, a date he didn't think would happen in the first place and he has already managed to screw it up without even being there. In an after thought he came to the further realization that he definitely did not want to face Dustin any time soon, the boy had become oddly protective of you once his friends actually clued him in on what was happening, which was obvious to everyone -except as established Dustin- with the way Eddie's eyes would trail after you every time he managed to spot you. He was trying to hype himself up, talk some confidence into himself and find a good way to apologize, not that he thought there were any. But just as he turned the corner to your block he heard it, he heard the worst possible sound on earth at this moment, he heard the sirens to Hopper's car. For a sweet small second, he allowed himself to believe Hopper wasn't after him, there was someone else committing a traffic violation on the other side of the street. Yeah, that's exactly what was going on, on the other side of this very much empty street was a car with a bunch of teens hooking up and Hopper had turned on his siren as a warning so he could put his clothes back on. Thinking about it, that wasn't even such a wild idea, like, that has happened to him before, well, except for the empty street anomaly. Right, time to face the music: Eddie came to a stop only about a hundred meters away from your house and rolled down his window as Hopper approached. Eddie shook out face to rid himself of the nerves and turned on his best smile. "So what's your excuse this time?" The Police Chief began to ask. Eddie quirked up at the question "It's not like the other times Jim I promise." Hopper looked him up and down squinted his eyes at him, cocking his head down just the slightest bit "How many warnings have I given you this month kid?" Eddie sighed, he knew where this was going. "Two" "Which makes this?" "The third" Eddie answered, dragging out his words. "Third warning kid, gotta write you up today" Hopper began to grab the police pad in his back pocket to write up the incident report, but Eddie was not above begging, at least not currently. "Listen, Jim-, Mr Hopper-, Sir, you can give me the ticket but can you please give it to me sometime else-" he was frantically moving his hands while talking now "- I'll even come by the station and pick it up myself tomorrow morning first thing but I have to-" And of course, things had to get worse:

The gods hadn't listened to his hasty prayers, because he could see Dustin in your open front door attempting to push you outside while pointing at Eddie's van. And he could tell the moment you spotted him because he could feel a small nerve entering his system, he could feel your presence connecting with his. And Hopper was asking him to please step out of the car right now. So he did, he stepped out and saw you give him a small wave which he tried to return except Hopper was snapping him out of the trance you still had on him from the other side of the street. So Eddie gave it one last-ditch attempt "Hopper please" "Alright let's hear it, what's your excuse?" Eddie's eyes brightened with the bit of hope he had just grabbed. "I have a date" he tried to explain "A date with who?" The chief wasn't gonna admit it, but the kid had grabbed his interest. So Eddie started rambling about how you two had met and how it should be your first date and then he caught your eyes again and he couldn't hear it but his mind filled in the blanks as he watched your soft giggling while looking at the situation unfold and he felt all his tension drop out of his body at once, he felt at ease from the way your eyes searched his, instantaneously so. "Wait a second, Claudia's daughter?" Hopper was looking over at the porch now too as your mother came out of the house as well. "That's not a great first impression" "Tell me about it" Eddie was trying to ignore reality as hard as he could right now. "Alright here's what's gonna happen, giving you one more warning but it's coming out of your tolerance next month" Hopper had assumed his dad stance, a hand on his hip and the other pointed straight at Eddie, and if he hadn't been oh so terribly grateful right now he would have been tempted to make fun of him for it. "Yes, yes! Definitely that please!" Hopper released one last sigh before he spoke back up "Go on over there then" Eddie took the olive branch and ran away with it before he could change his mind. With his van performing some emergency parking down the road he ran over to you just as you shooed off Dustin, and now he stood face to face with you, he stood close enough to count the fading summer freckles on the bridge of your nose and to smell the perfume he had started associating with you, and he wanted more time to admire how well he could see you right now but he had more pressing business. "I'll make this up to you I promise" He knew his promise probably wasn't worth much, but he had to try anyway. He had already started internally debating if it was worth getting down on his knees to beg as a smile cracked on your face. "This is exactly what Dustin predicted would happen" You were full-on grinning now, and it took him a second to comprehend that you weren't upset, you were amused, and he was confused. "He what?" "When he found out we had a date this weekend he tried to convince me you'd be at least an hour late with the Hopper on your ass I'm just stunned at his accuracy" Maybe this really was his year after all "So you're not upset?" "I'm just upset I owe that nosy dipshit money now" And now Eddie was laughing too because you started asking him if he wanted to just skip his reservation which you guys had missed anyway and go to the drive-in because you had heard they were playing Monty Python. So Monty Python it was as he drove there and got both the sweet and the salty popcorn because he wasn't sure which you'd prefer and spent the rest of the evening what he'd say was the perfect time. But he wasn't done yet, he had promised to make things up to you and this was only the beginning for him, a beginning to many good times ahead.

[@saradika-graphics still being my go-to for dividers] Taglist: @vicurious28, @arlxtoa, @em0220, @madyoghurt, @saturnsbxtchx, @maskofmirrors

[dragoneyes618]

"Two thousand years ago another Governor washed his hands of a case and turned over a Jew to a mob. For two thousand years that Governor's name has been accursed. If today another Jew were lying in his grave because I had failed to do my duty, I would all through life find his blood on my hands and would consider myself an assassin through cowardice."

- Georgia Governor John Slaton, June 21, 1915, commuting the death sentence of Leo Frank to life imprisonment.

In 1913, Leo Frank, a prominent Jewish Atlantan, was arrested and accused of murdering fourteen-year-old Mary Phagan, an employee in his pencil factory. Although the evidence against him was very weak, the prosecution insisted on trying Frank, carefully suppressing evidence pointing to his innocence.

Frank's arrest triggered an outbreak of antisemitism in Atlanta. Throughout his trial, the jury heard mobs outside the courtroom's open windows chanting, "Hang the Jew! Hang the Jew!" Subsequent to his conviction, "[a jury member confessed] to a northern reporter that he was not sure of anything except that unless Frank was found guilty the jurors would never get home alive" (Leonard Dinnerstein, "A Dreyfuss Affair in Georgia," page 101).

Despite the clear miscarriage of justice (among other things, the "star" prosecution witness against Frank had confessed committing the murder to his own lawyer, information that the lawyer apparently passed on to the judge), the US supreme Court refused to intervene, so that the decision whether or not to execute Frank was left in Governor Slaton's hands. Although assured by the powerful anti-Frank forces of a Senate seat if he let Frank hang, Slaton carefully investigated the case and became convinced of Frank's innocence. In the prevailing turbulent political climate, he was afraid to pardon Frank, hoping apparently that that would be done a few years later. Therefore, Slaton commuted Frank's death sentence, an act that permanently ended his political career.

Several months later, Frank was dragged from his prison cell by a mob consisting of, among others, two retired superior court justices, a former sheriff, and a clergyman. They lynched Frank; for decades, a picture postcard depicting his hanged body was widely sold throughout the South.

In 1982, sixty-nine years after the trial, eighty-three-year-old Alonzo Mann, who had been an office boy in Frank's factory, admitted that he had seen Jim Conley, ab lack employee at the factory and the chief witness against Frank at the trial, dragging the girl's body into the factory's basement on the day of the murder. Mann's mother had pressured him not to get involved in the politically charged trial. In 1986, the state of Georgia granted Frank a posthumous pardon.

-Jewish Wisdom, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, pages 482-483

[octuscle]

The car makes the man

James didn't actually want a car. Cars were the death of the planet. Cars were an expression of a cult of masculinity. Cars were time wasters. But the new job he had required a car. He couldn't cope with his deadlines without one. The new job paid well. The car was paid for twice and three times over thanks to the pay rise. And he only wanted something small and used. The car had to be reliable and use little or no fossil fuel. And above all, it had to be small. Finding a parking space in James' neighborhood was hell.

James had prepared himself. On his iPad, he had selected a number of possible offers. And now he was walking through the rows of used car dealers far outside the city, looking for the small cars he had liked on the internet. And then he saw his nightmare: the epitome of a used car dealer approaching him. A man almost 2 meters tall, corn-fed, toothpaste grin. And a handshake like a vice.

"Hi, I'm Honest Pete, how can I help you son?" James said looking around first, thank you very much! Pete said that wouldn't be a problem. Could he offer a coffee? James nodded and tried as hard as possible not to make eye contact with the pushy salesman. Pete disappeared, only to return shortly afterwards with a tin cup. James was surprised, he had expected an espresso cup. "You look like a guy who drinks his coffee strong, black and hot. Am I right?" James was actually more of an herbal tea drinker. But to be polite, he took the cup and took a sip. Shit! It was bloody strong! "So son, who's the car for? Your girlfriend? You won't have a daughter who can drive yet." Pete laughed boomingly. James smiled curiously and said that he needed a car for work. "I knew you were lost. Follow old Pete!" James actually wanted to protest. But my God, Pete was a professional. Maybe he should make a suggestion. "On a side note, son: I like your haircut! A good honest mullet is the only way a man can wear his hair long. Not that hipster man bun shit. Am I right?" Hehehe, thought James. Business in the front, party in the back. And he had a lot of partying in the back. Pete asked what his name was. James replied and Pete slapped him on the shoulder. "Jim, nice to meet you. I bet we're going to have a lot of fun today.“ Just as James was about to reply that it was "James" and not "Jim", Pete took a tin of chewing tobacco out of his pants, took a pinch and held it out to James. "Sorry, smoking's not allowed here. But maybe this will help you." Shit, Pete was a good judge of character. James's fingers and teeth were more than enough to recognize the smoker. James gratefully accepted a pinch. Good stuff!

James and Pete passed a row of sports cars. James looked not uninterested. But Pete recognized his look and waved it right off. "Son, this European shit is not for you. You'll only fit in these cars if you're anorexic. And you easily weigh 260 pounds, don't you?" The man was good, James thought to himself…. It might be closer to 280 pounds right now, he thought as he patted the beginnings of a beer belly. "Son, no shame! A man's belly has to jiggle when he laughs. Otherwise he's not a man." Pete laughed again and his belly jiggled. James joined in and his belly jiggled too. "Besides," Pete punched James' shoulders again. "I know the problem. Still a brick wall of a man in high school, but once you have to work…" "You said it, Pete!" replied James. "I mean, in high school days, I lived on the football field and in the gym formally. But now…" Pete said, not fishing for compliments here, Jim was still one of the big boys. It was all the more important to find the right car for him. James snorted out the chewing tobacco and took a sip of coffee. It was still hot, but now it didn't burn the roof of his mouth. Pete indicated that James had something on his mouth. Fuck yeah, dew tobacco liked to get stuck in his mighty full beard. He rubbed his beard and asked "better?". Pete nodded and asked Jim's shoe size. At least a 12, right? James replied a 12 in tuner shoes, more like a 13 in boots like now. "I thought so" Pete replied. "We need something with big pedals, don't we James?" "Mate, it's Jim, not James! And the pedals shouldn't be the only thing that's big about the car." "Sure, it should suit you, big boy! But I think we've got just the thing for you here! Perfect for work. You can fit all your tools in the back. And if you go hunting, you'll have room for a dog, a rifle and a deer."

Jim took off his trucker's cap and ran his fingers through his sweaty, greasy hair. 8,000 dollars was way over his limit. His heating business wasn't making that much money at the moment. Oil heaters weren't particularly popular at the moment. But the car was awesome: big, powerful and manly! He opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. Damn, it was like coming home. Pete was an asshole. Of course he had hit his taste exactly. He liked the car so much that he got a hard-on in his old army pants. And it didn't get any smaller when he felt Pete's hand on the bulge in his pants.

Pete became Jim's best buddy. At first they only fucked so that Jim could get a good price for the pickup. But they became the best fuck and gym buddies you could imagine. The only thing Jim couldn't persuade Pete to do was a mullet. Honest Pete was just a miserable white-collar bourgeois. But he sucked Jim's cock like the devil!

Pics by @ki-kink (he has more stuff like that!)

[cradle-quill]

Surrender, an ABDL Story by CradleQuill (18+)

Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+ _

Daniel stopped typing and looked up from his manuscript. His eyes wandered to Isabelle, who sat at the other end of their shared table, supposedly chipping away at her latest work project. Her brow was stuck in a permanently furrowed state, and she was massaging her temples as she stared down at her computer screen. She had been at this for hours now. Every so often, a burst of inspiration would hit, and the sound of her acrylic nails tapping away at her mechanical keys would fill the room. Those bursts would not last, though. Before too long, Daniel would notice that the sound of his girlfriend working would disappear, replaced with a suffocating silence that lingered throughout the air, threatening to choke the life from him if he dared say a word.

It had been over thirty minutes since inspiration had last struck, and Daniel knew Isabelle was hitting her wall. He also knew she would be reluctant to admit as much. He looked back to his writing and saw he had hit his word count for the day, so he leaned back and took a deep breath. Daniel eyed Isabelle as he wondered if she was paying attention to his movements.

“You know, honey,” Daniel said with a hitch in his voice. “Maybe it’s about time for you to take a break. Relax for a bit and see if the solution comes to you.”

Isabelle shut her eyes, looking annoyed. She let out a hefty sigh. “I can’t take a break yet. I’m on the clock for another three hours, and I need to finish this by the end of the day.”

Daniel carefully considered his next words. He knew how she got when there were stakes involved, especially when those stakes involved her boss, Jim. He also knew Isabelle had a penchant for building these things up in her head and assuming the worst. “Do you actually need to finish this one today, or is it more so that you’re going to be mad at yourself if you don’t finish it?”

Isabelle shot two twin daggers for eyes at him, and he immediately got the memo. He leaned forward, and in his mind, he debated whether he wanted to continue speaking. In the end, his gut told him to keep going. “You know, honey,” he began, his voice as gentle and soothing as light rain tapping on a window. “It would probably be easier to get a lot more work done if you gave your mind the chance to rest. You don’t want to overwork yourself and fry those thoughts before they come to fruition.”

“And what would you know about that?” Isabelle snapped back. “It’s not like you work an actual job, anyway. I have deadlines, Daniel. People expect me to finish things by certain times, and I’m already behind as is. So please, lay off and let me handle it.”

By the time she reached the end of her little diatribe, she was nearly out of breath, huffing and puffing out of anger. Her cheeks were bright red, but they faded to a lighter shade of pink once she realized that her temper had gotten the better of her. Daniel just sat there, staring at her. There was no judgment in his eyes, not even pain. Isabelle struggled to read him, but as best she could tell, he was unbothered, though also very serious.

She knew she ought to apologize, and part of her even wanted to. It was the mature thing to do. Even if she had a point, she went about expressing that point in the absolute wrong way. At the same time, she could feel that another side of her, a more stubborn, petty side, had latched onto this little spat and decided it was unwilling to move an inch. While she sat there in her purgatory of mind, Daniel stood up from the table. She watched him close his laptop and wander over to where his coat was hung up next to the door.

“Daniel, wait…” She clambered out of her chair and onto her feet.

“Not another word.” Daniel’s tone was stern, but it held the same underlying gentleness as his earlier words. She knew he meant it. He did not want to hear another word escape from her lips, and as hard as that stubborn side of her tried to fight it, she managed to hold it back and keep her mouth shut. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Instead, all she offered was a nod.

“I’ll be back soon. I won’t be long,” Daniel said before pulling on his coat and leaving through their apartment’s front door. On his way out, she heard the pitters and patters of his boots as he trailed down the stairs to the parking lot.

Minutes passed, and Isabelle had still not returned to her work. Her heart was nearly in her throat. She knew she had messed up, but she hoped it would not be as bad as it seemed. Daniel said he would not be long, and Isabelle would just have to trust that. He wouldn’t just leave her there, all alone, over one fight. If you could even call it a fight. It was more like a temper tantrum. She could hardly call herself a stressed out adult who had been snippy. It was more like she was a spiteful adolescent lashing out at a parent. It reminded her of her teenage years, and for that she felt deep shame.

When another few minutes had passed, and Isabelle still could not get her mind off of things, she forced herself to look back at her computer screen. Sitting there doing nothing would not help. At least if she got some work done, it would be a serviceable distraction until Daniel returned from wherever he had gone off to. He probably just went for a walk to clear his head, Isabelle thought. She hoped it was nothing more than that.

After around another thirty minutes, the familiar sound of Daniel’s boots trudging up the stairs to their apartment rang through the building, and Isabelle let out a sigh of relief she had been holding onto since the moment he left. When he returned through the door, Isabelle noticed something under his arm. Whatever it was, it was double-bagged in two white grocery bags, and she could not make out any signifying labels from beneath the coat of white.

“What’s that?” She asked, but Daniel did not answer.

“Come with me,” was all he said before making his way through the halls and into their bedroom. He had that same tone from earlier, the one that refused to be bargained with, so Isabelle did as she was told. She stood up from the table and followed him into their room, where Daniel was making the bed. He had opened their closet door and pulled out a black leather riding crop, which now sat beside him on the nightstand.

“No, absolutely not-” Isabelle said, but Daniel cut her off.

“You will not take that kind of tone with me. You know better than to speak to me that way, and you know better than to insult me.” He finished making the bed, ensuring it was nice and level for her to sprawl out on. “You also know that I was right about you needing a break. You would never have snapped at me like that if you weren’t so stressed. Now, be an obedient girl for me and lay flat on your stomach.”

Isabelle squirmed where she stood, clenching her legs together and trying not to show how obviously wiggly she was. Deep down, she loved when he got like this. She found him so… irresistible when he took charge. “I-I don’t think now is the t-time…” she trailed off, unable to finish her own thought. Her thoughts seemed to get lost somewhere along the way from her mind to her mouth, disappearing before she could bring them to life through her words.

Daniel simply ignored her. He wore that same unphased demeanor from earlier, and somehow, that made him seem even more threatening. With the crop and sheets all prepped and ready, he bent down and opened his mysterious package, revealing a large bag of disposable diapers, the kinds for little kids who still wet their beds.

“Absolutely not!” Isabelle declared. Her voice was forceful and unwavering. Yet when his eyes met hers, hers darted away. She could not hold his gaze.

“I’m not asking. Lay down on the bed, take your spanking, and then I’m going to put you into something more appropriate for the way you’ve been behaving.”

“I’m not… wearing that.” She folded her arms and gave her best pout.

Daniel turned to face her, not speaking for several seconds. Each subsequent second felt longer than the last, and with each one that passed, Isabelle felt her knees getting weaker, ready to give way. After a full minute of silent stillness, Daniel suddenly approached her. He got right up in her face, forcing her to stand at attention just to avoid him running into her.

Their faces were mere inches apart when he said, “I have seen your BDSMTest results. I know what you’re into. I know how you like to be treated.” He paused just long enough to let her mouth fall open, and for a breathless gasp to flee from her open lips. “You have a safe word. Use it. Or don’t use it, and lay down on the bed right this instant.”

Isabelle could not believe what she was hearing. Even less could she believe her legs started inching their way forward without her permission. Daniel was right. She had a safe word, but she did not utter it. Before she knew it, she was crawling onto the bed, sprawling out over it. Daniel came up from behind her and gave her a forceful push, slamming her stomach onto the bed as she let out a reluctant moan that refused to be held back. A familiar wetness dampened her inner thighs.

As she tried to compose herself, to gather her thoughts which seemed to float around aimlessly in the sea of her mind, there was a sharp sting against one of her butt cheeks, and then the other. The sound of the slaps came first, with the pain settling in whole seconds later. By the time she felt the pain from one, Daniel’s crop was already onto the next. She desperately clung to her physical presence, to keep herself grounded within the moment. She was an adult, a grown woman, someone who was self-sufficient and well adjusted. Except, she wasn’t any of those things.

With each strike of the crop, those illusions, those lies that she told herself, they disappeared bit by bit, until they had faded into nothing more than memories just out of reach. All that was left was herself. Her true self, the one she kept locked away where no one could see. In mere moments, Daniel had beaten it out of her. She could hardly even feel the pain anymore. Instead, it was as if she were floating in the middle of the ocean, with no land anywhere to be found. Or perhaps she was soaring through the air, diving between the clouds, with no rules or expectations hoisted upon her shoulders. She was free. In her bondage, in her submission to him, she was free.

When the spanking was finished, Isabelle’s bottom was bright red and sore. The earlier marks were even beginning to turn purple as her skin bruised. She just laid there, her mouth agape, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Daniel grabbed hold of her and pulled her into his embrace. “There, there, little one. It’s all over. I’ve got you now.” The sternness had left his voice. Now, there was just that same old gentleness, like the first autumn breeze of the year.

She sobbed into his shoulder, and all the while, he held her and cooed at her. He rocked her gently, careful not to exacerbate the pain coursing through her bruised bottom. Once she had settled down and centered herself right there in his presence, in his dominance, he laid her down on the bed. She went limp, ready to let him do whatever he pleased with her. However, Daniel did not take her as she thought he would. No, instead, he ripped open the package of Pull-Ups and slid one over her feet and up her legs. Isabelle’s hands shot up to her face to hide her humiliation, but the childish gesture only served to make her seem more helpless and infantile.

With little effort, Daniel hoisted Isabelle up and pulled the glorified diaper snug into place. She had to admit; it wasn’t so bad. The padding was soft against her princess parts, and the way the garment hugged her hips made her feel swaddled and protected. She was safe. Safe in her Pull-Ups and safe under Daniel’s thumb, right where she belonged. She needed it. She yearned for it.

Daniel wrapped her in his arms once more and laid her head on his chest. He rocked her gently, humming a soft little tune to soothe her. Isabelle closed her eyes and let herself relax, finally. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she was at peace. All her worries and concerns had drifted away, and despite her sore bottom and weakened pride, she could not help but smile.

“There’s my girl,” Daniel said. He aimed his own soft smile down at her, and as she looked into his eyes, she did not find disdain or malice there. Instead, she found only wordless comfort and reassurance. “I think someone was extra fussy today and needed an attitude adjustment.” She blushed even more furiously at that.

“D-Daniel…” Isabelle’s meek voice chirped out like a baby bird making its first call.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m s-sorry… for what I said… and the way I said it.”

“I know you are, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean it. You were stressed, and you lashed out. Little girls do that from time to time.”

“N-no but… I’m serious. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Hush, little one. I know you’re sorry, and I know you’re being sincere. I’m telling you it’s alright, that you don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to do or be anything right now. You can just sit here in my arms, and you can just be my little girl, if that’s what you want.” He gave her the kindest smile anyone had ever given her, and in that moment, the last of her reservations gave way. “That is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” All she could do was nod.

That night, she drifted off to sleep in her boyfriend’s arms. Come the next day, she wouldn’t think of him as her boyfriend at all anymore. Instead, she would see him as her Daddy. And by the time she woke the next morning, she would find herself filled with a sense of undeniable bliss, and a new sensation altogether. One of thickness and absorbency between her legs. One that would go on to define the rest of her life to come, and the way her Daddy would look at her as his good little bedwetter.

THE END _

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[not-the-coffee-machine4]

My Favorite Chaotic Queen Moments (probably part 1)

John just up and leaving one day only to waltz in a couple hours later having just aced his finals 

Brian accidentally leaving the Red Special on a bridge one time

Crystal recruiting Freddie to help him and five OTHER roadies pie Spike Edney in the face with six individual pies 

John crashing through a glass door, getting 19 stitches and continuing to play gigs

Roger folding a sleeping Freddie upside down into a wall

Freddie calling Sid Vicious “Simon Ferocious” and proceeding to out-intimidate him

Crystal leading a very drunk Roger back to the house wherein Roger mistook keys for his glasses and had to make his way up and down the hall multiple times in an attempt to retrieve his glasses while bouncing off the walls

“Introducing Brian May on the piano. Yes, yes, he’s very wonderful he has a big c**k”

[picture of a daffodil] Brian: yes, Freddie once said he was as gay as one of these

John just up and leaving to Bali for three weeks with zero notice 

“My dad is the reason I’m here today….in so many ways…”

“He threw my BEST F***ING PAIR OF MARACAS AWAY”

“Soooo when you’re at home you’re quite prolific” “uHM”

“Go pretty boy go!” -Freddie @ Roger

The whole band jumping up and down in an elevator and getting stuck in it

Freddie getting Jim evicted so he’d move in with him

“That was the beginning of that kind of playing with my…own echo” “When you first started playing with yourself?” “I nearly said that Rog…”

[achilles-rage]

His Girls

summary: you bring your 2 year old daughter to visit Street at work, and she utters a word you're both surprised to hear.

word count: 2.6k

request: @twilightlover2007 - Hope you don't mind but Id love to request Street with a single mama gf. Her kiddo is 2 and when they visit the station once her little one calls Street daddy(I think he would be an AMAZING dad 😍😭)

A/N: sorry this took so long, i got really into another fic i’m writing. but i really enjoyed writing this! enjoy<3

warnings: none, reader is a single mother, street is a pushover for his girls, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re driving home from the park with your two-year-old daughter, laughing as you hear her singing loudly in the backseat to the music playing. You decided that you should stop by and visit Street at work when you were leaving the park, knowing your daughter would love to see him, and vice versa.

He’s been around pretty much all her life, and she’s grown very attached to him. Lots of days when he comes home from work, she hears the door open and drops whatever she’d been doing to run to him as fast as her little legs would carry her. She holds her arms out and he drops his bag to lift her in his arms, holding her close with a chuckle. It never gets old; he loves being greeted by the two of you after a long day. 

He loves when he has a few days off too, spending them with the both of you. He keeps your daughter company as you make breakfast, putting on her tv show for her and talking to her in an animated voice as she babbles on about all her thoughts. Then, after you all eat and she’s distracted with the toys that he always seems to trip over in the mornings, he curls up with you on the couch, his arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your plush stomach, trying not to fall back asleep as your fingers weave their way through his hair and you talk in soft tones.

After a while, your daughter comes up to you two, squirming her way onto the couch and cuddling up between the both of you with a happy little smile on her face. This only ever lasts a few minutes, however, as she’s soon sliding off the couch and grabbing both of your hands to get you up to play with her.

“Momma, can we get McDonalds? Please?” she whines, drawing out the last word. You look at her through the rear view mirror, seeing her bottom lip jutting out as she looks at the back of your seat.

“Not today, lovey. I have food in the crockpot at home for dinner.” you tell her softly, looking back to the road as you make your way down the street, almost at Street’s work. 

She whines softly at your words, kicking her feet a little in the car seat, but not pushing it further. She puts her hand up to the window, opening and closing her fingers as she feels the light on her face. 

As you get closer to his work, you hear a little gasp from the backseat, before your daughter’s giggles fill the car, realizing you’re visiting Street at work. You do this regularly, and after a few times she had learned to recognize when you’re getting close. You smile softly, pulling into the parking lot and turning off your car.

“You wanna go see Jim?” you ask her, turning in your seat to face her. She nods excitedly, squirming in her seat, giggles getting louder as she sees you get out of the car and open her door to get her out of her seat.

Once you get her out of the car and sat on your hip, you make your way inside, feeling her legs kick out beside you with a big grin on her face.

Your eyes search the building as you look for Street, hoping your plan to surprise him wouldn’t backfire by him being out on a call.

You let out a relieved sigh as you see Hondo, who gives you a smile before waving at your daughter, who pushes her cheek against your chest, giving him a shy smile. He points in the direction of Street, winking at you as you thank him silently, walking around the ring in the middle of the room and making your way to the other room.

You set your daughter down as she sees the back of his head, barely able to keep her in your arms as she squirms against your grip. She races over to him, and he turns when he hears the soft patter of her feet hitting the ground. 

“Is that my girls?” He smiles down at her widely, stretching out his arms as he leans down.

“Daddy!” she exclaims as her arms wrap around his neck and he lifts her off the ground. Your eyes widen at the word and your whole body tenses, your smile disappearing for a moment as your eyes dart to his, a little afraid of his reaction.

Honestly, you’re a little surprised she hadn’t called him that before today. She didn’t know much, if anything, about her real father. With seeing the rest of the kids with their fathers at the park, you could see where she might get confused. Of course, she didn’t know any better, and you know he wouldn’t hold it against either of you, but it doesn’t seem to calm the pounding in your chest as you wait for Street to react. He had been surprisingly accepting of you being a single parent, and immediately treated your daughter as his own, but you were nervous that the thought of actually being her father would be too much for him.

Your eyes soften as you see that the excitement in his eyes hasn’t left, his eyes are merely searching yours to make sure you’re okay with that word. You give him a reassuring smile, laughing in slight disbelief as he hugs her tighter, tickling her sides.

“Hi bug.” he whispers into her ear, and you swear you see tears in his eyes as he speaks in the softest voice you’ve ever heard him use. He’s called her this almost as long as he’s known you two, stemming from a joke he made when she was still a baby. When she used to lay on her back on the floor, she used to squirm in a way that made her look like a bug turned over on its back. It made you two laugh so much that the name had stuck after that.

“Momma won’t let me get McDonald’s.” she tells him in a soft voice, leaning her head back from his chest and looking up at him, her bottom lip forming a small pout. His eyes shoot up to yours as you fight back a smile at her insistence. She knows he’s more likely to give in to her than you are, especially if she gives him those big eyes of hers and a pout. You narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head once, still trying to fight back your smile. He lowers his eyes back down to meet her eyes with a raised brow, chuckling softly.

“How about this? I’ll take you tomorrow on my day off. Deal?” he tells her softly, glancing back up at you for a moment and giving you a wink before looking back down at her. She nods enthusiastically at his words, giggling softly. 

“You spoil her.” you tell him, a small smile making its way onto your face as you step closer to them, leaning in to kiss him softly. He kisses you back, smiling into the kiss as one arm moves from your daughters back to your cheek, tilting your head up slightly.

“I can’t resist her charm. She’s just like her momma.” he whispers once you pull away, turning his face back to hers as she starts to tell him about how many times she went down the slide at the park earlier. 

He puts his arm around you and pulls you closer, squeezing your soft waist as you lean your head on his shoulder. You both listen to your daughter's story with matching grins, until you hear Chris’s voice, which causes your daughter to forget her story and turn in Street’s arms.

Street puts your daughter down, letting her walk over to Chris and wrap her arms around her legs as Chris greets her warmly. 

“I think there’s some cookies in the kitchen. Do you wanna go get one?” she asks, laughing as your daughter jumps up and down, nodding quickly. She grabs Chris’s hand in hers, dragging her towards the kitchen, completely forgetting about you and Street as soon as cookies are mentioned.

You laugh softly, shaking your head, knowing how hard it’ll be to get her to sleep with all this excitement. You sigh, turning to face Street, wrapping your arms around his neck as you look up at him, tilting your head to the side.

“She called me daddy.” he whispers, almost in disbelief as his hands make their way to your hips, giving them a squeeze.

“Are you okay with that?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek nervously. You know he looked okay with it, but you want to make sure. He’s very good at hiding how he feels, but when you give him that look, it’s hard for him to keep his words steady if he was lying.

“Are you kidding me? I love you, both of you. I think the first time you introduced me to her, it was set in my mind that you were both gonna be mine forever.” he tells you, chuckling softly. Your eyes soften at his words and you lean up onto your toes to kiss him again, one hand going to the back of his head as you weave your fingers through his hair.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger.” you tease softly as you pull away, moving your hands from his shoulders down to his chest, smoothing out his shirt.

“She’s exactly like her momma.” he responds in the same tone. He bites his lip softly, eyes trailing down your figure, taking in your cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt. The way he could see the soft outline of your tummy and your thick thighs under your clothes. He’s so overwhelmed with love at the moment he isn’t sure what to do with himself. If he wasn’t at work, he knows exactly what he’d do to you right now, but he keeps his hands respectfully on your hips as his eyes glance around the room.

“You wanna go out with me tomorrow? Like a date?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, a teasing glint in his eye.

“What do you have in mind?” you respond, your brows furrowing slightly as you take in the look in his eyes.

“McDonalds?” he says, making you laugh softly as you drop your head to rest on his chest.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” you whisper, looking back up at him and being met with his lips on your forehead, the sound of his chuckle hitting your ears.

After a few minutes your daughter comes running back over to you two, Chris trailing behind her. You reach down and pick her up, brushing the remainder of cookie crumbs off her face as she reaches her hands up and squishes your cheeks between her hands.

“You ready to go home?” you ask her through squished cheeks, sticking your tongue out at her.

“I wanna stay.” she whines softly, taking her hands off your cheeks and holding her arms out to Street. He immediately holds his hands out, taking her from you happily and kissing her forehead.

“Yeah, she wants to stay here, momma.” he teases softly, poking her belly, which causes her to squeal and squirm in his grip.

“You’re no help,” you say to Street, giving him a stern look. “And we have to go home and turn off the crockpot, my love. We’ll see him tomorrow.” you tell her in a softer tone. As much as you love how close they are, you know she’s gonna pout the whole way home.

“You better go, bug. But I promise I’ll take you and your momma out for lunch tomorrow, yeah?” he tells her, which makes her smile and hold out her pinky to him. He chuckles, linking his pinky with hers.

“You gonna be good for your momma?” he asks, squeezing her closer to his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck again, sighing. She nods, running a hand over her face, the pouty expression already making its way onto her face.

“Okay, say goodbye lovey.” you tell her softly, rubbing a hand up and down her back. She whispers a soft goodbye, nuzzling into his chest, and he swears he feels his heart melt at her soft little voice. He puts a hand on her head, kissing her forehead again, frowning slightly at the idea of having his girls go home while he has to stay at work.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” he tells her, handing her back to you. Once she’s in your arms he puts his hand on your back, loving the warmth of your skin under his hand. You look up at him, smiling softly at him as you hold your daughter to your chest as the pout stays firmly planted on her face.

“Can we have a tea party tomorrow?” she asks, raising her head up from your chest to look up at him. You laugh at the thought of him scrunched up on one of her little chairs, tiara on his head and pinky raised with one of her little teacups in his hand.

“If that’s what you wanna do, then we’ll do it.” he tells her earnestly, chuckling softly. She smiles at him and rests her head back on your chest again, kicking her feet out on either side of you at his words.

“I love you,” he whispers to you, squeezing your waist as he moves his hand from your back to your waist. “And I love you, bug.” he finishes, looking down at her. She turns her face into your chest bashfully but you can feel the large smile on her face at his words. He chuckles at her reaction before leaning into you, kissing you gently, careful of the little body between you.

“I love you,” you reply against his lips. “Come home to us in one piece.” you tell him once he pulls away.

“I’ll do everything I can. I’ve got a date with my girls tomorrow.” he teases softly, as you back up. You laugh softly, shaking your head as you turn to walk out of the building.

“You’ll make a little girl very upset if you don’t.” you tease softly, turning to look at him over your shoulder as your daughter waves goodbye to him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” he says in a teasing tone. But he means it. At this moment, he doesn’t think anything can stop him from coming home to his girls. His heart swells at the thought of you both being his to take care of, forever.

You walk out to the car with her in your arms, and put her in her car seat before getting into the driver's seat. You smile to yourself as you sit there, feeling a weight off your shoulders. You finally feel like your little family is complete. While it had been complete ever since Street and your daughter had met, you now have no doubt in your mind that he’s here to stay. And he will spend the rest of his life trying to give the both of you everything that you deserve.

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[milkkkkkkkkkk]

cw: explicit content, oral sex, vaginal sex, afab!reader, teasing, smut, mdni

word count: 2.8k

"You were soaking wet from the storm outside. You made your last delivery for the day, but still couldn't go home. Will the offer for some hot cocoa turn a bad day to a good one?"

jim halpert x reader

WORST DAY

You were thankful for your new job. It was awful most days, but thursdays... You had started working in delivery, pastries to be precise, and worked monday through thursday. And on that one last day, you got a weekly order from Dunder Mifflin. The receptionist always smiled at you, she was very sweet, and the guy who was apparently the boss didn't miss a chance to make an inappropriate comment. But there was a reason you kept making these deliveries, even if you could ask someone else to do them. You met his gaze, a couple desks over. There he was, brown wavy hair and soft eyes. You felt the butterflies in your stomach, and you heart raced a little. You held his gaze, not wanting to seem shy, and he looked down a couple of seconds later, showing a small grin on his face. That was the highlight of your weeks. The donut delivery to Dunder Mifflin.

One day he started to receive and sign the deliveries himself, taking the chance to make small talk, ask about your day or maybe your plans for the weekend. You surprisingly found him really easy to talk to, and learned that his name was Jim, his birthday was october first and he always had jam and cheese sandwiches for lunch. Your crush had developed into something more than just your heart skipping a beat. You'd noticed his eyes trailing down your body, and him leaning a little bit closer than needed, and how easy he made you squirm. You wanted him, and the tension between you two was undeniable.

That was your routine for a little over three months, stealing glances and hidden smiles, talking and flirting a little before you had to go. You'd grown comfortable around each other. And that had been your regular schedule, never a mishap. But today was different. The rain had you almost completely soaked, but you were making sure that your tiny umbrella covered the donuts completely and kept them dry, even if it was at your expense. You struggled to open the front door and at the exact moment you managed to get in you crashed into someone, resulting in a box of donuts on the ground. Thankfully the box was sealed with tape and none of the donuts actually hit the floor, but the glaze was messed up. You scrambled and mumbled a string of apologies, mentally cursing yourself and everyone else. You had a rough morning, and this was just making your day worse.

Gentle hands met yours when trying to lift the box off the ground, and as you looked up from underneath your long eyelashes, you met the gaze you were so familiar with. He looked a bit worried, and his mouth moved, saying something you didn't hear, you were too busy trying to comprehend what was happening.

You started to realize the state you were in, and asked a soft "Sorry?"

He smiled and asked "Are you okay?" while getting up from the ground with you.

"Oh," you chuckled slightly "Yeah I'm okay, I'm just having a little bit of a bad day."

"Strong storm outside..." He trailed off looking at the window to the rain outside. To be honest, it was raining pretty hard.

You took the chance to look at him for a second, taking in his wet hair and sticky shirt. Thinking he must've got caught up in the storm as well, and scolding yourself for staring.

"So um... Do you have any plans for today?" He suddenly asked, locking his eyes with yours.

"Thankfully this is my last delivery for the day, though I can't really go home, they're fixing a leak" You sighed, thinking how you couldn't even relax at home during the storm. You'd end up in a library maybe, you'd have to hope they'd let you in with soaked clothes.

"Im uh, done for the day, got off early," He started, "We could maybe go to my place" He suggested and you looked at him.

"I make killer hot cocoa" He finished with an enticing grin.

You considered it, it would be a chance to get closer, and maybe more...

You finished the delivery, deeply apologizing to the receptionist and after explaining the situation and the state of the donuts, you assured her the next delivery would be free of cost.

Finally, you opened the door to his car. He was waiting for you outside of the building, and turned on the heat to warm up. He lived 20 minutes away from his office, and actually closer to your apartment too. You walked into his flat, looking at the simple and a little bit messy living room.

"I'll bring some dry clothes for you" He said, disappearing into what you assumed was his bedroom. You took the chance to walk around the kitchen, it was clean and organized. He reappeared with a black t-shirt, some red and black pajama pants and a towel.

"These pants were my brother's, I think they'll fit" He said as he handed you the dry clothes. "The bathroom is over there" He pointed to a white door.

You thanked him and went into the bathroom, locking eyes with him as you closed the door, intentionally leaving a gap big enough to catch a peak. You turned your back to the door as you started to undress, feeling his eyes on you. You unbuttoned your shirt, and slowly slipped it from your shoulders until it hit the floor. The bathroom was directly across the couch in the living room. And you heard him as he sat down to enjoy the show. That made you even more giddy, and slick with anticipation. You unclasped your bra and took it off before moving to your pants. They were made out of soft fabric that was easy to remove from you body, and they dropped to the floor. Toeing off your shoes, you finally put on the t-shirt he gave you. You could tell he wore it often, it smelled strongly like him, and that made you wet. You grabbed the towel and put it around your neck, drying your hair a little, and walked out of the bathroom, to stand directly in front of him in only a shirt and panties.

"The pants didnt fit."

He was sitting on the couch, man spreading, one of his arms thrown over the back rest of the couch and the other one resting in his thigh. The first three buttons of his white shirt were open, and his tie ditched on the floor, his hair messier. The mood had changed completely, there was a clear sexual tension and heaviness in the air. His eyes had darkened, like his expression, and he looked directly at you. Looking at his shirt on your body had an effect on him. The hem of the shirt was just below your ass, and your perky nipples showed through the soft material. He didn't say anything and just stared, taking in the sight, and you noticed the growing bulge in his pants.

You took a step forward, and he stared at your eyes, finally smiling at you, a different kind of smile to the one he offered every thursday. Maybe today wouldn't be such a bad day.

You finished walking towards him, standing in between his legs, and you placed a hand on his cheek, making him look up. His eyes were hungry, and his hands acted like so. He started on your legs, caressing them, moving up to your thighs and then your waist and your back. You closed your eyes, enjoying his touch, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling his head towards your abdomen. After a few minutes he finally grabbed at your ass, looking up from your abdomen and pulling you to sit on his lap, straddling him.

You felt him then, hard and big underneath you. Leaning down, your breaths mingled, your hands moved to his neck as his hands cupped your ass. You were so close, yet your lips weren't touching.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

"Yes." You whispered back before he kissed you. Slowly at first, as if he was memorizing how your lips felt on his, or how soft your skin was beneath his hands. He began kissing you more deeply, almost desperately, and you wondered if he had wanted you as long as you had wanted him.

He squeezed your ass, making you open your mouth to let out a sudden moan and he took that chance to make his tongue meet yours. He explored every inch of your mouth, and you started pressing down on his hard cock. You were in a state of bliss, and wanted to take the next step. Moving your hands from his neck you moved to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them and revealing a toned build. You finished unbuttoning his shirt and ran your hands through his chest. Your legs moved away from his sides and onto the floor between his legs. One of his hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with such and ease that it made it incredibly arousing. You dragged his pants and his boxers down in one go, not wanting to take more time, desperate to have his dick in your mouth.

It was big, and it had a nice girth to it. You stared at it, your mouth already watering. One of your hands grabbed it by the base, and your tongue drew a line from the base to the tip. He threw his head back, finding the sight of you unbelievably hot. He gave himself to the feeling of your mouth on his dick. After teasing a little, your lips wraped around the tip of his member, earning a small gasp from his mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, before hollowing your cheeks for a few seconds and letting go, making a popping sound. You spat on it, before putting it in your mouth again. You continued, feeling one of his hands tangle in your hair. You bobbed up and down for a few minutes, before your needs started to feel unbearable. A string of saliva connected your mouth and his dick when you pulled away, looking up at him. You found his eyes staring right back, with an expression you couldn't read. You stood up, standing in between his legs again, and his hands found their way to the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs until they were on the floor. He wet his lips, his eyes filled with lust and anticipation. He gently pushed you to the couch, making you lay on your back, and you were suddenly feeling a little embarrassed when he opened your legs to get a good look at you. You were flushed, and Jim was delighted to see you like that, so impossibly lewd.

He bent down, kissing you right below the belly button, and he continued leaving a trail of kisses leading right to your pussy. He only gave one kiss to your clit before moving away, kissing the inside of your thighs, the sides of your abdomen, and getting so close to your pussy it was almost torture. He was slow, as if he was enjoying tormenting you.

"J-Jim please...."

He froze for one second before turning his eyes to you.

"Are you begging?" He asked in a mixture of disbelief and lust.

You looked away, pouty. "I guess I am" You said sheepishly.

You couldn't have known the effect that had on Jim, to see you begging for him, sprawled in his couch, wearing your shirt, and so wet for him. He would've liked to keep going, to keep teasing you, but you were so irresistible looking like that... that he couldn't help it. He kissed you pussy, finally, earning a moan from your mouth. You didn't know if he had neighbors, so you tried to stifle the sounds coming from your mouth as he started to dive right in your folds. He swiped his tongue over and over, sucking on your clit, plunging his tongue into your hole, making you a moaning mess. You couldn't stand it anymore, you needed him, needed to feel full of him. Would he fuck you if you begged?

"Mnhn... Jim... please fuck me"

That was all he needed to hear before kneeling on the couch, one hand on the handrest behind your head, the other grabbing at your thigh, looking at you with hunger. He grabbed the base of his dick, swiping his tip on your slick folds and earning soft sounds from you. He was tremendously hard. He aligned himself at your entrance before looking at you for approval. You nodded.

You felt the mixture of pain and pleasure as he pushed in, stretching you, going deeper and deeper, before he was all in. He waited a moment before slowly pulling back out, and going back in. He kept a torturously unhurried pace, making sure you were comfortable, and enjoying it as much as he was. He had a knack for teasing you, for making you beg, you realized. When you were ready to pick up the pace, you looked up at him, hands on his chest.

"Faster...please"

He buried his head on your neck, and you wrapped your hands around his back. He started to go faster, slapping sounds filling the room, mixing with the ongoing storm outside. He felt so incredibly good inside you, you could hear the little sounds coming from him, his hands gripping your skin, his lips leaving a mark at the crook of your neck. You felt a familiar sensation starting to build in your lower abdomen, the fast steady pace of him hitting a particular spot inside you that made you feel better than you ever had. The sex was mimd boggling. You were so close.

"Jim...ah...I-I'm gonna..." You said through strained breaths.

He kept his pace, gripping you tighter, the knot snapping. You moaned, gasping for air, feeling overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your sensitive parts being overstimulated by him, now going at an uneven pace, chasing his own release. He moaned and pulled out, sticky white strings shot out of him, landing on your chest and stomach. His load was big, and he kissed you when he finished.

You were both exhausted, but he still stood up and went to the bathroom. He came back with a towel and clean clothes and asked if you wanted to take a shower. You did, and wore the comfy hoodie he gave you. While you were in the shower he cleaned the couch and started preparing some hot cocoa. You emerged from the bathroom, taking in the sight in front of you. Shirtless Jim, preparing hot cocoa for both of you. A blanket on the couch and some snacks on the table. You could get used to this. His back was turned to you, and you suddenly felt the need to hug him. You wondered if it would be okay, or if it would be crossing a line. You decided to risk it as you walked up to him from behind. Your hands slithered around him and he flinched. A sudden wave of disappointment hit you, and you tried to pulled away before his hands grabbed yours, and pulled them around him.

"Your hands are cold"

He said as he turned his head to smile at you. Relief washed over you, and you melted on his back, before he turned around completely, leaning on the counter.

"I need to take a shower" Was all he said before pecking your lips and disappearing into the bathroom for 10 minutes. You decided to make yourself comfortable on the couch, pulling the blanket over your body. He got out of the bathroom with wet hair, and you couldn't help but think about how hot he looked. You then realized what just happened. You just had the best sex of your life with Jim Halpert. And you were in his apartment, in his clothes, waiting for the hot cocoa he made for you. You blushed, today was truly an out of the ordinary day.

He went into the kitchen and came back with two mugs. He put on a show and you drank your hot cocoa, talking about whatever came to mind. It was truly a killer hot cocoa, and you hoped to have it again. Soon, you had both finished your drinks and now were cuddling on the couch, his arms lazily hung around your body, and you were playing with his hair.

"Let me take you out on a date" He said out of nowhere, and he smiled when you met his gaze. You returned the smile, agreeing to meet tomorrow for dinner. Your bad day had turned out to be the best day you've had in years. You gave into the cozy feeling of being in his arms, taking in his scent and his warmth, and fell asleep to his fingers drawing circles on your skin.

note: hi!! im new to tumblr so im sorry if my posts look a little weird. this was originally posted on ao3 with the same name. i hope you liked it!! <3

[discotitsposts]

but daddy, i hate you

when spencer recieves a birthday card from his estranged father you help him deal with his feelings

gets a little steamy at the end so 18+ recommended

this is how i deal w my own feelings lol

a little background: set in season 13-14. right before spencer’s birthday. you’re spencer’s wife, you’ve been together around 7 years. You work at the bookstore that you and spencer own. (he helps you run it and is co owner, you run it together) also, Spencer and you live in the apartment above the store.

It’s a beautiful Saturday morning and you’ve been going through boxes of new books for your store before you open for the day. It’s Spencer’s day off and he’s at the counter adding up the figures and making sure everything is in order for your busiest day of the week.

You hear a knock at the front door. “I’ll get it!” You yell to Spencer. You unlock the door and the mailman hands you your mail. “Thanks Jim, how’s Martha?” You ask him.

“She’s great, she’s dropping by later with cookies!”

“Cool! See you tomorrow!” You wave bye and start going through the mail.

“Hey, hon, there’s something for you from…” You stop when you read the name. William Reid. Spencer hadn’t seen nor heard from his father in almost 10 years. He was still very much angry about anything to do with his father. As were you. You couldn’t believe he hadn’t reached out at all.

“From who?” He asks, not looking up from the financial log. He puts his pencil down and reaches his hand out for you to hand him the envelope. You hesitate but hand it to him anyway.

You watch his face drop when he reads the name and address. Oh, how you wished to take the envelope out of his hands and hold him and tell him to forget that silly piece of paper forever. He peels the envelope open, careful not to touch the seal. He feels the dread fill his heart when he sees the contents. A card that says ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front, and ‘to a very special boy’ on the inside.

“What does he think I am? A fucking child?” He shouts, making you jump. “Sorry.” He apologizes and sighs.

“It’s alright, I’ll leave you alone with that.” You start to back away.

“No, don’t. Stay, please.” He begs with his beautiful eyes.

You nod and move closer. He begins reading the handwritten message on the inside of the card.

“Dear Spencer, Hope you’re not too upset with me, I am proud of you. We haven’t talked in a while, you haven’t called. You have the number. Don’t hesitate to reach out. How is Diana? Miss you. Happiest of Birthdays. Love, your father.” He reads it off, mocking every word.

“What the fuck! He hasn’t sent a card in 9 fucking years! Why now?” He raises his voice.

“I don’t..”

He cuts you off, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s either finally feeling bad about everything or he wants something. Well I won’t call him. I fucking hate him.”

“It’s a dick move to blame you for not reaching out, but honestly? Maybe you should, find out what he wants. If he honestly just wants to talk, it might be the closure you need. If he just wants something from you, you can tell him to fuck off. Obviously you don’t have to but maybe you should consider it. I know he was an asshole to you the last time, but you know I regretted not telling my father everything I wanted to say.” You’re watching your words, his father was a touchy subject.

He thinks for a minute and then sits back down and covers his face with his hands. “Maybe you’re right. You alright to open by yourself today? I think I’ll give him a call.”

“Yeah, go ahead. Good luck.”

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss and runs upstairs. He looked like a little kid who had just been given their favorite candy.

Later, when you’re closing the store for lunch break, you hear a loud crash from upstairs. You run upstairs, afraid Spencer had fallen and hurt himself. Worse. He was on the floor crying his eyes out. He had knocked the bookshelf over and he was surrounded by collapsed books.

You carefully step over the books to get to him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, so as to not startle him. He keeps crying into his hands but removes one to take your hand into his.

“I called, told him I received the card and I was willing to talk with him. I- I tried to…” His voice starts to trail off because he’s crying so hard he can’t speak. You rub his back reassuringly. “It’s ok, take your time.”

“I wanted to tell him, I’m married, and my life is going great. I didn’t even get to say anything. He stopped me and asked what card I was talking about. Turns out his new wife felt he should speak with his son, wrote the card and sent it to me. I should have known it wasn’t his handwriting.” He’s so tired from crying he just lays his head in your lap and stares.

“I’m so sorry love.” You say while running your fingers through his hair. Anger coursing through your veins.

“He hung up on me too.” His voice breaks as he says this. It has you fuming mad even more so. How could he do that? You could practically hear Spencer’s heart snapping in two.

He’s crushing your legs, so you convince him to stand up and have him go lay in bed with you. You cover him with the blankets and just hold him until he falls asleep.

You wake up a few hours later and he’s still asleep. You slyly grab his phone and write down William’s number. You take the paper, and your jacket downstairs.

You go to the store phone and as you’re dialing the number your stomach turns. Was this a good idea? After all I’m doing this for Spencer. You think as the line rings.

“Hello? Who is this?” A woman’s voice answers.

“Hello, is William Reid there?” Your voice quivers. You hear shuffling and the woman calls “Will! Phone!” in the background.

More shuffling. Then a man’s voice. “Who is this?” He says sternly.

“Hello, you don’t know me but I-“

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I’m your son’s wife, and I think we need to have a talk.”

“Spencer’s married?” He asks almost longingly. He sounded interested. Good.

“What kind of father are you? You don’t let him know you even want to be in his life and now all of a sudden you do? When he does finally reach out you hang up on him?”

“Ok that was because I went to go talk to my wife about why she sent my son a card from me.”

This goes on for a while, you yelling at Mr. Reid for his rude behavior.

The next morning you wake up to Spencer speaking to someone on the phone. Still groggy, you’re confused and mouth, ‘who is it?’

He holds up a finger to say hold on. He’s smiling. Maybe Prentiss is letting him take the next few days off!

“Alright bye! Love you!” He says into the phone, almost giddy. He hangs up and you tilt your head confused. He has the biggest grin on his adorable face.

“It was my dad. He was calling when I woke up. I can’t believe he reached out and he apologized! Can you believe it? He’s never really apologized to me before! We had a long talk, it was nice. Really nice.” He sits on the bed smiling.

“Is that so? Talk about a change of heart.” You smile to yourself knowing what you had done.

“You know what else he said?”

“What else did he say?”

“He said the little talking-to you gave him worked.” Spencer chuckles knowingly.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“No, I’m not upset. I actually am glad you did it. He wants to come and visit us. He wants to meet you too.” He pulls you into a big hug. “I love you. Thank you.” He kisses your neck.

“You’re welcome. I love you too.” You pull back and hold his face in your hand.

“Since you did me a favor, I think I owe you one. Lay back.” He gently spreads your legs apart and repays the favor to you. All day long.

the end 💞

it hurt me so bad to write spencer crying

to anyone who read this hope you enjoy! please don’t hesitate to leave feedback if you like this!

[sunflowersteves]

um so getting fucked by logan in public place...i mean getting fucked by logan-

(please know the way i'm salivating over this man is downright sinful.)

author's note || babes,,, i feel u. this man is in my dreams 24/7. i lov u for requesting this <3

summary || basically, you defend Logan and he quite literally goes feral.

warnings || fluff, some angst, anti-mutant rhetoric, SMUT [minors dni], P in V sex, praise kink, public-sex, desperation

Logan was used to being alone. It was second nature for him to blend into a crowd and survey the bustling fullness of the night. Usually, he hightailed to the back of the bar, his eyes studying carefully while he nursed the beer in his hand. 

When Logan met you, though, some things changed a bit. Instead of being at the back of the bar, he usually sat right next to you. While he wasn’t much for PDA and often abstained from it, he still let the hardness of his thigh rest against yours. It was such a simple touch, but you knew how much Logan needed to breathe in your presence. It soothed him. 

Tonight was like any other Friday night. You both wanted to go to the bar for a little bit of fun before another mission killed the atmosphere. Logan usually has a beer in his hand and his other subtly resting against your back. His eyes would bore into yours as he watched you talk about your day. It was always something he looked forward to. The ways that your eyes would sparkle underneath the illuminating bar lights. 

The bar was packed tonight, though. Bodies were practically on top of one another—playing pool, dancing to the stereo, or attempting to chat up someone to take home. Your idea to go to the bar had not just been your own. You could hear Logan’s heartbeat race as someone kept bumping into him—despite the very menacing aura rolling off of him. 

So, in response, you were currently nursing a whiskey all by your lonesome. It wasn’t that you were lonesome, it was much of the opposite. Logan had stepped out of the bar for a quick smoke, wanting to calm the nerves that pricked his skin. Logan needed a breather. He never wanted to leave you by yourself—although he knew you were completely fine. He just didn’t want to. You smiled at him with one of those breathtaking ones that caught his breath. 

“Go. I’ll still be here.” You whispered. God, he loved you. It was so evident, yet the years of having a broken heart shattered his ideas of loving someone again. The pain was etched across his chest, back, organs—everything. Add the number of people surrounding him, caging him in had reached an overwhelming capacity. So, he stepped out toward the back and dragged his cigar across his lips. He let the nicotine softly quiet the aches in his chest. 

You sipped the bitter taste of Jim Beam, your body almost shuddering at the hot feeling of liquor going down your throat. You felt the buzz already—not having much of anything to eat despite Logan asking if you had eaten. He handed you a granola bar in the car. He already knew the answer to his question. During a heated discussion with Scott, you had completely forgotten to eat some lunch. 

Logan was as caring as always—rubbing a hand across your wrist to ask if you had anything to eat today. However, your thoughts of him were screeched to a halt from a presence coming straight toward you. 

“Where’d the big guy go?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at the sensation of a tall silhouette behind you. You didn’t respond, though. You and Logan were used to the comments—usually, fans wanting pictures with the well-known X-men. Those you didn’t mind. Men like these, though? The ones that taunt you for your differences, the ones that make your skin itch.

“C’mon. That mutant scum isn’t here anymore. No need to act so tough.” 

You huffed out of your nose in disgust. There was a sizzle underneath your chest that made you want to scream in anger. You held your ground, though, knowing that it wouldn’t help very much. You knew men like these. Any use of your powers could end up with a call to the police and another article about how “violent” mutants are.

Although, not budging made the stranger even more pissed than he was. “You’re too pretty to be with a beast like him. Didn’t you hear, anyway?” This man just wouldn’t stop fucking talking. “The Wolverine hurts anything he touches. He’s a fuck up. A low life. A fucking animal—” 

Now that comment is what made you turn your head. You had heard enough before you slammed your glass on the bar counter. The man beside you jumped in surprise. A scowl on your lips, nostrils flared. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

Logan’s eyebrows twitched as he heard the snarl in your voice. He burnt out the cigar on his skin—slightly wincing at the sizzle of his skin. Worry surged through his chest at the mere idea of your discomfort. A primal need to protect the thing he loves was fogging his brain. The leather of his jacket was straining against the bulge of his muscles as he sauntered back through the bar. His shoulders were taunted back, surveying the bar as everyone’s head turned to you and some guy. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. You had bunched the collar of the man, lifting him off the floor. Your eyes were wild with anger, your teeth clenched tightly as you spoke to the stranger. “If you ever talk about the Wolverine like that again, I’m going to cut off your head and feed it to your fucking wife—” The boom of your voice echoed through the bar. It was so silent that a pin could drop. 

You could handle comment after comment thrown at you. That, you knew quite well. However, you knew how Logan actually felt about the comments. They called him an animal. A beast. They forced him into something he was always scared of. Himself. You knew him differently. He was Logan. He would make you a cup of coffee every morning, adding a sprinkle extra of cinnamon that he knew you loved. He left fuzzy blankets in his room after the first time you spent the night with him. You commented how itchy his sheets were and ever since, he silently wraps you up in one with an arm attached to your waist. He would place a protective arm in front of you during missions—always assessing the danger to make sure that you would never get hurt. He was so much more than anything they portrayed him as. He was human and everyone—including the team—sometimes forgets that. 

“Darlin’—” You felt your shoulder visibly relax as his large hand enveloped your soft skin. “They’re not worth it.” 

Your heart was beating fast against your ears. You did everything in your power to not throw the man across the room. Your teeth snarled at him—the guy visibly winces, expecting the worst. You slowly lowered him to the ground and let go of his collar. 

“Fucking mutants.” He spits before backing up as far away from the two of you as possible. You turn to move again and the guy gets startled and jumps in fear. Logan squeezes your shoulder to try and ground you once again.

He sees you visibly relax, some regret etched into your features. He knew that you didn’t want to cause a scene but you couldn’t help it. He knew that feeling quite well—when it came to you, he was the same. 

“Let's go home.” 

Logan was silent as the two of you walked out of the bar. You cringed at the pure stillness of the night. You didn’t mean to do more than you should have. It was just an instinct, especially as the vexation flowed through your veins. 

You stop in your tracks for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something which prompted his steps to a halt, as well. “Logan, I’m—” He never let you finish. He grabs your shoulders and shoves you against the brick wall of the bar. You let out a gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours. 

His heart is beating fast, echoing against his ears. For once in his life, someone had protected him. Someone had stood up and defended him. Sure, Charles has done that many times, but not from an act of pure love. Charles believed in him. You loved him. 

He has this feeling in his chest. He wantonly has an itch to devour you. He wants to lick the sides of your body and ravish in the pure essence of you. He’d never had this feeling before—this animalistic, pure affection was pounding against his chest. 

“You just couldn’t help it, huh, princess?” He grunted against your ear. His hands caged you in, one resting beside your head and the other deliciously attached to your hip. His teeth nipped at the skin below your ear. “You just wanted to defend your old man, hmm?” He hummed. 

The hand on your hip lowered to your thigh and squeezed the plush flesh. You were wearing a pretty dress tonight, one that you knew he would rip off later. You just weren’t expecting it now. “I just—” He breathed in the smell of your shampoo and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that, Lo.” 

You let out a whine as he growled against your ear. He was insatiable—unhinged. Something was brewing beneath his stomach that he had never felt before. “Oh, pretty girl. You wanted to protect me?” His lips were at the shell of his ear. You nodded. You almost felt shy now, a direct contrast from earlier. 

Your leg moved to wrap around his own, curling right around his hip. He smirked at the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, I know, baby. God, you’re just so fucking good to me.” You were both losing your patience from the pliant kissing and stumbling of limbs. You both were desperate and wanting of one another. 

His lips lowered down your neck. The hand that was caged against the side of your head was now pressed up against your breast. You whined, “They can’t—” You gasped as he squeezed the plush flesh. “They can’t say those things. Made me—” He smiles, lips curling into a little smirk. He moves his arm down to your aching cunt. “Made me see red, Lo.” 

Your hips buck into his hand, the wall scratching against your shoulders as you’re shoved more into the brick. “Yeah? Wanted to hurt him, baby?”

He groaned into your ear at the thought of blood covering your hands from destroying the man trying to insult him. It only fueled more of his fire. He couldn’t take it anymore—mouth still sticking to yours in a gruesome dance across your lips. The saliva spread to his beard, messy and filthy. 

“Wanted—ah—wanted to see him pay.” His hand fully dipped between your panties, bunching up your dress as he lifted you up against the wall. It happened swiftly, yet your mind burned with want and need.

“Fuck. You’re so wet.” He teased your slick entrance, making your legs instinctively pull him closer. “Logan, please.” 

He could smell the way you were leaking for him, spreading the slick around with his fingers. He let out a growl and swiftly unbuckled his belt. He couldn’t wait any longer and neither could you. 

“Can’t wait to fill you. Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He moves your panties with his thumb and swiftly glides in his wide girth. You moan in unison, but you swallow his own and yours with a long kiss on his lips. Your tongues swirl together and you could’ve sworn he pulled you even further. You could feel every inch of him inside of you. He moaned at the stretch of your cunt wrapped around him. “Feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna—fuck—gonna make you mine.”

Your head hits the back of the wall and you start to feel fuzzy in the head. “Lo–” You whine. “Love you.” You whisper into the night air. Something hits Logan in the chest and he can’t help but snap his hips into you even further. 

It makes you see stars, but all Logan can think about is how much he loves you. His chest was burning with something different—something more primal than he had ever felt. It made him want to drool, place his head against you, and live there forever. 

“Love you too, baby.” He grunts. He wanted to do this properly���to be a gentleman. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make sweet love to you, and then tell you those three little words. It completely went out the window when you defended him—when you stood up for him like no one else has. You completely had his back and he couldn’t help but let the happiness burst through his veins. “Love you so fucking much. You know that, baby?”

He makes you turn your head towards him to look him in the eye. You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for Logan. “Need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“You love me. I know you love me.” He groans and pumps his cock straight onto your cervix. It makes you squeal at the sensation and he feels the slick run down to his balls. The cold night air made goosebumps on your skin, though, your mind not even noticing. 

“Fuck, I love the way you sound. Don’t be shy, baby.” You fully moan, more than likely the sound echoing across the bar parking lot. “That’s it.” You both were beginning to feel dizzy with love and lust. He couldn’t stop staring into your eyes. He was too immersed in them and he never wanted to look away from them again. 

“Fuck, Logan!” 

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you.” The coil finally snapped as you unleashed the precipice of your orgasm. Your body shuttered against him, all while he was singing praises in your ear. You clench around him so hard that in one thrust, he’s filling you up to the brim. He slowly pumps his salty cum into you, your body convulsing with pure ecstasy. 

You start to giggle in his arms about the whole night. Logan couldn’t help but smile too. You were just too contagious. 

“Let’s go home, Lo.”

He couldn’t help but smile brightly at the thought. He couldn’t suppress the pure joy like he normally could.

“Yeah, okay.” He whispers.

You were home to him. 

He never had to do anything alone anymore. He certainly didn’t have to deal with the demons attached to his hurt heart.

He finally had you.

[jji-lee]

HEY HOW ARE YOU, HOPE YOU'RE DOING GREAT, WONDERING IF YOU COULD DO SOMETHING LIKE Y/N AND JENO GOT INTO A VERY SERIOUS ARGUMENT

HI!! i’m doing great, sorry for the late reply i am on vacation! kinda inspired by jim and pam’s valentine’s day fight from the office (if you’ve seen it) it’s not so much an argument because i’m bad at dialogue but it’s a little couples spat. hope you enjoy anyways! ☺

it had been tense since jeno woke up that morning. it was valentines day and you wanted to make it special for him since the last one he had been on tour. you woke up early to make him his favorite breakfast, taking the time to cut out little hearts from all of the fruits. but of course your exhausted boyfriend had slept through breakfast, having had practice till late the night before. he had taken off from practice today to "spend time with you" but he had only been spending time with his bed. you cleaned up breakfast deciding that it wasn’t that big of a deal, you had the rest of the day planned anyways. when jeno had finally woken up you were getting ready to go on a bike ride with him, your go to date activity, but you were met with a groggy smile telling you, “not today baby hm? just a little tired, but i made us dinner plans at 7 today okay?” so you complied taking off your biking gear and heading to the living room to watch some tv. jeno came out lazily and laid on the couch next to you resting his head on your thighs. as 6 rolled around you decided to get ready for dinner looking through your closet for your new dress. you heard rustling in the bathroom assuming jeno was also getting ready. by 6:45 you were finished, stepping out of your room to show jeno your outfit. as you stepped out you were met with a very laid back boyfriend, wearing jogging pants and a hoodie, he looked up at you eyes widening when he saw your appearance, “shit baby is it 7 already? i totally blanked on dinner, i can get ready real quick and tell them we hit some traffic so they don’t charge us for being late.” he stood up quickly going to your shared room to get dressed, you stopped him. “forget it jen, i’m not even hungry, let’s stay home and do nothing like we’ve been doing all day” jeno stared at you, confused by your sudden attitude, “what do you mean ‘do nothing,’ i took the day off to be with you?” you let out a deep breath, “you didn’t take a day off to be with me you took a day off to catch up on your sleep jeno, don’t act like today’s been ALL about me” he tilted his head to the side staring at you bewildered, “is this about the biking? baby we bike every chance we get, we’ll do it next time i have free.” you pushed past him leaning on the couch for support as you took your heels off, “yes jeno, this is about the biking and breakfast and this stupid dinner that you planned and forgot about, i tried to make everything special for us today and you just slept through it all, i look like an idiot running around planning stuff for my boyfriend who doesn’t even care” he walked towards you grabbing your chin, “you think i don’t care? you think getting a last minute spot at your favorite restaurant is easy? you think being away from you everyday is easy?” your eyes began to water as he let go of your chin walking towards the door “i’m sorry for being tired today, it’s my first day off in months, you think i didn’t want today to be special too? i’m sorry okay? i feel like shit cause i ruined your valentine’s day.” you heard jeno's voice crack as he spoke, back turned towards you, “i just, i can’t keep going back and forth, not today, if we’re gonna keep fighting then i’ll just meet the guys at practice, tell them our plans got cancelled,” he slipped some shoes on, grabbing his coat to leave, you stopped him, hand grasping his shirt. “don’t leave please, stay, stay with me and fight, we’ll yell all night if we have to.” he stopped and turned to face you, “you really wanna fight on valentine’s day?” you gave him a soft smile, “yes, stay with me and fight, just, don’t go.” jeno wasn’t gonna leave, not even if you begged him.

[melbatron5000]

Murder Board 2.0

Updated 9/18/24

Since I've figure a few things out, I need to re-do my Murder Board. New answers, new questions.

What I think I know:

Hints given out by NG are suspect at best. (I cannot blame him or anyone else on the cast or crew -- they spent A LOT of time and energy building this very meticulous puzzle game for us -- why would ANY of them give ANY of it away? That would ruin all the fun!)

Lots of the discontinuity of Season 2 can be explained by POV switches between characters. See here and here for more. I think the title/location cards are also probably POV Clues, that needs a closer look.

Crowley gave something to Aziraphale in his mouth when they kissed. It's the fly. Now, what else was in the fly besides Gabriel's memory? RECORDS. Incriminating records that are why the Metatron let Beelzebub and Gabriel go, but nailed Aziraphale. The Metatron knows Gabriel has those records, he doesn't know they got passed to Aziraphale.

Saraqael and Crowley and by proxy, Aziraphale are all working together. See here and here for more. That explains A. the tiny miracle blowing up into a 25 Lazarii miracle. It didn't. They had to cover for something else that did. B. Saraqael showing the archangels the book shop in 2019 in the spy hole. C. Crowley's spy turtle neck and where he went during Aziraphale's Job flashback. D. Why Saraqael helps him see the trial in Heaven. (Oh! Muriel's now in on it, too!)

Crowley's memory is fine, it's a red herring. It might mean something else, though. I think he is dissing Furfur, he is denying knowing Saraqael even after she gives him a reason to recognize her to hide that they are working together. He tells Jim he doesn't remember why they invented gravity, but that whole scene is from Aziraphale's perspective, so the conversation likely didn't actually go just like that.

Shax is on a mission besides Gabriel -- she's looking for whatever Aziraphale and Crowley are hiding. Gabriel is a side-mission.

The hand-washing comment from Crowley in the Resurrectionists minisode -- he tells DaVinci about helicopters in Good Omens the novel. It's just a thing he can do.

What is up with Maggie? Maggie's freaking Jesus 2.0. She's what Shax is looking for, and who Crowley, Aziraphale, and Saraqael are hiding. Also, where is God? God is busy being Maggie, that's where. That's why Crowley says "Oh God" before his speech in the final fifteen. He's bringing up what they're hiding, reminding Aziraphale that someone has to stay and keep an eye on Maggie. That's why he can't go. Now, how the FUCK did Jesus 2.0 wind up owning a record store she inherited from her family NEXT TO AN ANGEL?? (Ah, shit, now I'm doubting this one. Now I suspect it's Nina, and Maggie is Mary MAGdeline. Same questions still apply.)

SECRET SONGS??? Why are the songs secret?? I'm losing my mind, what is happening?? I think this is a message that A. Aziraphale and Crowley are okay, and B. We will absolutely be getting part 3 of 1941.

I still think the scenes might be out of order. Is it as simple as watching them in chronological order? Could be.

The Metatron is a naked man. i.e. he was originally HUMAN.

Aziraphale and Crowley are talking in subtext A LOT. Aziraphale's tells are easier to spot than Crowley's. He raises his eyebrows and does vocal bunny rabbit ears, says "um," and "ah." "Our Gabriel miracle," "The establishment in question," "Certainly on to something," "Haven't yet cracked the case." Crowley's tell seems to be being effusive. "Frozen peas," "You wouldn't be interested in love?" "Well, today is your lucky day!" "How do you know I didn't do it?"

We are missing the scenes that should mirror the Resurrectionists minisode. What we do have instead of mirrors to that are Crowley telling the demons they are out of order. He can tell time has been messed with.

There are two Crowleys. I think the head in the book shop is his way of keeping in touch while his twin is off doing things, and the red eyes are him, too. Now, why?? What do they need 2 Crowleys for?

What still needs answering:

The clocks jumping time. And why are the extras moving in double-time when we first arrive to Whickber street?

The weird hand in the 1941 photo.

Aziraphale's chair position being moved still doesn't make sense. Unless Crowley was talking to himself??

The extras behaving strangely.

Crowley's car being in the wrong spot on the road after Shax threatens him.

Weird sounds -- Aziraphale turns to look at a crashing sound when he returns from Edinburgh, to look at a car horn, the very loud clock in the final fifteen BUT ALSO when Jim says he will go out to the demons, nightingale singing when Crowley leaves in the FF.

I'm not sure that POV switches explain Crowley's sunglasses going from silver to black.

I don't know why Aziraphale went to Edinburgh, or why he stopped at the graveyard where Gabriel's statue is, or why he looked like he realized something important while he was there.

Why does Michael do the "nothing's in the box" thing with the matchbox? It's a petty specific action. Someone pointed out that Michael's nails look chewed and terrible, are we meant to stare at the matchbox while something else goes unnoticed? Well, duh. But what?

We most certainly did not get the whole scene where the Metatron is talking to Aziraphale. What else was said?

What did Crowley do during his ALL-NIGHT JAUNT in Heaven? Did he sneak around and steal something? Did he uncover something? Did they hurt him? I think he stole something.

What did Aziraphale do with his briefcase that he took to Edinburgh? We see it in the book shop from his POV, and Edinburgh is seen from Crowley's POV, so they both know it exists. And then it's gone.

Why does Gabriel prophecy with God's voice? IS it God's voice? It's a woman, is it Frances McDormand? It's hard to hear. When he remembers the beginning, I think it's God's voice. When he prophecies, it may be someone else. Frances McDormand has no credit in that episode.

Why the heck did Maggie and Nina go talk to Crowley while the Metatron was talking to Aziraphale? What they had to say wasn't important enough to leave Nina's shop during a rush, and I definitely don't think they derailed Crowley from what he needed to say to Aziraphale, though it might look at first as if they did. So what was that about? Were they trying to speak in husband-code to warn him about the Metatron?

When Shax stops Aziraphale for a ride, he says, "Oh, I really need to get to --" and then is cut off. He really needs to get to where? It's an easy assumption to think he means the book shop, or London. But is that all he means? Or was he on his way somewhere else? And if it was just the book shop, what does he mean he's late? Late for what?

When Crowley leaves Heaven, he tells Saraqael and Muriel to come, too. But in the elevator, Michael and Uriel are there! When the fuck did they show up??

Why does Beelzebub tell Shax to attack the bookstore? Aren't they worried about Gabriel being harmed? And they know Hell is understaffed. Maybe that's why they command it? Because they know Shax won't be able to get many demons?

What about the Masons? It's such a specific thing for the pub owner to bring up, what is the meaning of it? And Maggie has a Mason symbol on her necklace. Did the Masons carve the statue of Gabriel? When did they see him?

The only narration we hear in the entire season is Aziraphale in the Resurrectionist flashback. I believe this is to throw us off the POV character switches all season. But still, why do we only hear him narrate 1 flashback? I think he's reading the diary to himself in the present day. That would explain the end, "And that was the last I was to see of Crowley for some time." He JUST heard the story of the jukebox from Maggie. And Gabriel appearing at the pub -- same city that statue is in. Of course he thought of something important from that diary entry! Now, what did he notice?

Is the Book of Life a real threat? We hear two stories about it, that it's real and that its ability to erase beings was something to scare the cherubs with, this is inconclusive. Crowley gets nervous after Beelzebub talks to him, but I think he's pissed that Heaven and Hell have taken an interest in them again, especially since they're trying to hide Nina!Jesus.

So many promo posters show Aziraphale, Crowley, and Jimbriel together, or symbols of them. Three feathers: two white, one black. Tea cup, cocoa mug, wine glass. The three of them. Not with Beelzebub, not with Muriel, the three of them. And all three of them have been Jesus-coded in some small way. No one else. Those three. What. Why. Are they the sacrifice required to bring about the new world? Why not Beez, then?

The whole collection of Maggie's album's from the Amazon X-ray are great, big CLUES.

A post that I didn't reblog pointed out that the record Aziraphale is listening to when Garbriel shows up is neither Shostakovich nor 21 minutes long. That seems important, but I'm not sure how. (The record is opposite when Crowley gives Aziraphale the fly containing records -- the actual symphony is, according to the original blog, one written by a rebel in contempt of his government. Do the records have to do with the rebellion and fall?)

What the heck does Furfur mean by "little monkey in the waistcoat?" How does that sound like Crowley?

Why does Furfur change the subject when Aziraphale asks where Gabriel and Beelzebub would like to go?

Why does Mrs. H say "for God's sake" two times in a row? No one says that on this show without a meaning.

Shax notices Crowley going to Heaven and makes an epiphany face.

Why is the end credit music for the ball French cafe music? French must be important. And the end credit music for The Hitchhiker is old timey and scratchy, then skips and becomes the same song in a newer, clearer style. Because they repeat the bullet catch trick in the modern day, perhaps?

I thought I heard that Crowley and Aziraphale are in the fly in the opening sequence, but nope. So why are they in a cave?

Why are there multiple elevators and multiple mountains in the opening sequence??? What the hell does that mean?? And multiple Edens?? All right, what's up??

I count at least two times Aziraphale glances right at the camera, probably more. Who is he looking at? Us? Is he looking at Crowley?Why??

When Aziraphale arrives back from Edinburgh, he asks how "everything is with -- mm." Crowley says "he was sleeping, I heard him singing." I don't think they mean Gabriel. At the cafe, Crowley says when Gabriel smites you, you've been smitten. Aziraphale says he isn't "you know who any longer." Again, I don't think he means Gabriel. Who are they hiding?

Repeating themes: (I am just realizing that these aren't just themes, they are all Clues!)

Beverages of all kinds -- tea for Aziraphale, wine or whiskey for Crowley, cocoa for Jim. Oh, and LAUDANUM. And coffee!

Time -- lots of clocks/mentions of time. Everyone notices the ticking clock during the Final Fifteen, but it's ticking loud when the demons attack the ball, too. Also, why is the first scene of Whickber street shown at high-speed? Is time sped up? Or something else?

Love/partnership/togetherness being stronger than separateness

Memories/forgetting/remembering

Payment -- money comes up in both the Resurrectionists minisode and the Flesh Eating Nazi Zombies minisode, but no one pays for anything in present. There is bartering, but no money. Both times money is brought up, it's Crowley using Aziraphale's money, and both times, it's to buy a life. It's funny, but I feel like there's a point to it.

Rising from the dead -- Job's kids (even though they weren't actually dead), bodies used for science, Nazi zombies, the Second Coming. I think this is all just hinting around Jesus -- sure, hinting around Jesus, who we were expecting to show up in Season 3, but she's already here. The hints indicate that she is already on Earth, not going to show up next season.

Unreliable narrators. Because we are seeing the whole show from various characters' points of view. Because of that, we can only see what they know, expect, believe, or understand, but also what they want us to see. We need to take the whole second season with a grain of salt.

Death in general -- but 8a., I'm a dirty pagan, why didn't I make this connection sooner, death always leads to REBIRTH, change, something totally new and 8b. there are tarot cards in the magic shop, and even if you're not a dirty pagan, the Death tarot card means transition, something must die before a new thing can be born. Hmm.

Morality and what is "good" and what is right

Recognition and identity and hiding one's identity. Ah! Probably at least partly because Maggie someone? is Jesus. How would you recognize them? (I think it's Nina now.)

Licenses, permits, permissions, rules, proof, evidence, what's allowed. All of the minisodes mention this, and it all gets mentioned again over and over. Because Heaven and Hell do have rules they have to follow. Which drives home my theory that Gabriel stole some very incriminating records from Heaven when he left, Crowley got hold of them and gave them to Aziraphale during the kiss, and now Aziraphale is going to nail them.

Colors. Lots of colors!! Job's kids are dressed in the colors of Nina, Maggie, and Aziraphale's shops. Jesus on the Resurrectionist Pub sign is in blue and red, blue and red crop up a lot in extra's clothing, as do yellow and red, Crowley colors. The Ladies of Camelot are in red and blue. Aziraphale says Earth will be a blue-green planet, Nina's shop is blue-green.

Horses. Horse statue, horse wine label, people saying "dark horse." The four horsemen again? I feel like they already had their ride, so what the hell? I think it's because season 2 is an echo of season 1, I THINK -- I have to check -- that horses appear or get mentioned when the horsemen have corresponding scenes in season 1.

Numbers. A lot of numbers get said. Does it matter, or am I overthinking?

Repeating words and phrases:

Technically

Properly

Isn't it just?

Too late

Funny old world

Not as such

Made for each other

EVERYWHERE

Obviously

Two shakes of a lamb's tail

Dark horse

What are you/am I? As opposed to WHO. Aziraphale asks in the Land of Uz, and Crowley asks Gabriel.

Are you sure? Quite sure.

The Marvelous Mr. Fell is described as marvelous in his mysterosity, Shax says the demons have dangerosity.

Mrs. H in 1941 says "for God's sake" twice in quick succession.

Schtum

Every day

Hints:

Powell and Pressburg films

The Crow Road

Catch 22

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, Terry Pratchett in general

Jane Austin

Book Good Omens

Season 1 Good Omens

The titles of episodes, minisodes, places, etc. 7a. The Arrival: a book and a movie, though the book seems far more relevant. And lovely. The Clue: a movie. Companion to Owls: a line from a Bible story. I Know Where I'm Going: a movie. The Resurrectionists: two novels, each called The Resurrectionist, singular. Both look unhinged. The Hitchhiker: a Twilight Zone episode. Nazi Zombie Flesheaters: Literally no other reference. ?? Nazi Zombies do appear in a LOT of movies, comics, and video games, usually as a dark joke. The Ball: a video game. Irrelevant? It's a puzzle-based game, so maybe not. Every Day: a song AND a movie. Some themes repeat here: Puzzle games, being re-directed from one's path to find true love, death and being brought back to life in a gruesome and unpleasant way.

Objects that get a close-up/centering:

Starmaker's nebula book -- Nebula 231,080

Shax's compact mirror

Maggie's note

Shostakovich record

Tomatoes

The box

The Bentley

Eccles cakes

The bell

Head statue

The book Jim drops

Jukebox

Gabgriel's statue

Laudanum bottle

Phones in Edinburgh episode

"Very closed" sign

Broken whiskey bottles in 1941

Hourglass in Hell

Furfur's camera

Bullet catch in the magic shop

Instruction booklet for bullet catch gets 3 close ups -- because the bullet catch trick is that important, or because it happens 3 times? Both, I think.

Puppets

Dancers' silhouettes

Mr. Fell sign

The actual bullet

Angelic beings book

Photo evidence

Shax's shoes

"Surrender the angle" brick

[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