#camp staff advice

[camp-counselor-life]

Acting a little silly

I want to empower you all: it's ok to act a little silly.

I sometimes dance to children. Smile widely even under my mask. Talk with my hands, more than I need to. Make dumb jokes and worse puns that make the teenagers and staff groan. Laugh loudly and without shame.

Being silly shows that you are confident. It shows that it's ok to let loose. It shows that you are on the child's level.

It's ok if it's not your vibe. Don't force yourself to be someone you aren't. But also remember, it's ok to be silly sometimes.

[kamaluhkhan]

LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to: 

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE! 

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later. 

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year. 

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER 

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy. 

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too. 

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow. 

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!” 

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis. 

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples. 

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!” 

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears. 

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond. 

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. 

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it. 

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.” 

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.” 

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you. 

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke. 

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat. 

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly. 

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you. 

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface. 

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all. 

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father. 

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief. 

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes. 

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.” 

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze. 

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained. 

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up. 

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others. 

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways. 

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why. 

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s. 

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too. 

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars. 

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all. 

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely. 

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him. 

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you. 

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.” 

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you. 

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking. 

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed. 

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….” 

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time. 

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash. 

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully. 

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too. 

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together. 

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill. 

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise. 

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw. 

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves. 

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost. 

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly. 

it fell just as quickly. 

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others. 

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. 

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow. 

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party. 

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun. 

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away. 

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.” 

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways. 

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy. 

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.” 

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.” 

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. 

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.” 

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart. 

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile. 

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way. 

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you. 

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit. 

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you. 

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased. 

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further. 

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.  

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin. 

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.” 

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?” 

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. 

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes. 

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner. 

so, it’s fine. 

this, this thing with eros, is fine. 

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.” 

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden. 

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin. 

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words. 

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not. 

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more. 

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger. 

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.” 

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego. 

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face. 

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers. 

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into. 

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while. 

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it. 

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies. 

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.” 

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over. 

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.” 

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really. 

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you. 

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief. 

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while. 

but that isn’t all. 

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat. 

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move. 

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. 

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness. 

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night. 

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday. 

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on. 

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters. 

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.) 

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake. 

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how. 

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was. 

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder. 

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything. 

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same. 

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were. 

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out. 

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship. 

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too. 

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”  

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army. 

and once it was all over? 

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood. 

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?” 

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience. 

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question. 

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though. 

by the end of august, you’d be gone too. 

now 

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.  

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.” 

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope. 

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

nothing.

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[peterparkersnose]

Spoil

pairing: Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: lowkey dark!aemond, alys river type themed, reader’s family gets killed, reader is a plaything, sexual themes and descriptions (not a smut), fluff at the end :)

a/n THAT GIF OML uuhhh this came to me in a fever dream apologies.

summary She’s his spoil of war, and his new found confidant.

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 13 mins 26 seconds

A spoil of war. 

Is the one thing you had been demeaned down to. From a visiting Lady to Harrenhal, a betrothed to one of the Strong sons, and now to nothing. A spoil of war. 

The first time you ever saw him was weeks after the fateful night that your life collapsed. You still remember the cool breeze in your nightgown and the loose hair around your shoulders. How the moon shone so brightly, but only in the early evening before the fight began. Smoke then filled the air as your new home was captured. 

And then they were gone. 

The Blacks had just packed up everything and… left? The castle you once knew to be lively, despite its cracks, was suddenly sullen and empty. Few staff remained from the ones who fled. You clung to your betrothed along with the rest of his family. Life felt like a ticking time bomb. 

It was midday when you heard the roar of the great dragon, Vhagar. A strange time to invade, but there wasn’t much to do. A glimmer of hope, you thought. A glimmer of hope. 

Hope is only something a fool would believe in now, you truly believed. 

The Strong family was rounded up by the one-eyed Prince. You had heard of him before and knew what the people whispered about him. Kinslayer. Evil. Egotistical. Irrational. 

A plea for help, you thought. How foolish you feel now. The Kinslayer swiftly went one by one, killing every single last Strong, down to the grandchildren. All you could do was scream. Your betrothed was gone, and so was his family. The women and the children were all gone. And all that was left was you. 

The worst death of all, you supposed. It was certain now, you were the last one on your knees pleading for your life. Perhaps in another lifetime, you deserved this. Watching your new family die one by one, knowing of your fate. As the Kinslayer approached you, his sword bloodied in his hand, blood splattered all over his armor, and his face, his white hair matted with the blood of your betrothed. His facial expression was unreadable as you stared him dead in the eyes. A soft prayer came from your lips as he looked at you like you were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen now, as a scowl moved to his lips.

His hatred for the Strong family was inconceivable. Why did such a man hate a family that much? 

He stared you down, taking in every single inch of you. An evil snarl approached his lips as he grunted. “Mmm…”

“She’ll do.” he called out to a man in armor, an older one than the Prince and with Dornish features. 

She’ll do? What in the Seven Hells is that supposed to mean?

The Dornish Knight took you by the shoulders and forced you off your feet and whispered into your ear softly as he was escorting you to horseback, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Just be quiet and listen. Pledge your allegiance to King Aegon. Then you’ll be fine.” His words were far from comforting as he intended them to be. Your betrothed blood was still fresh on your hands. 

A war camp was your new home. One of the dirtiest places on earth, not for a Lady such as yourself. Men were constantly poking and prodding at you, calling and shouting at you all sorts of terrible names. When you first arrived, you were brought into a quiet tent away from the evil eyes of the soldiers. The Dornish man sat with you and spoke softly. He seemed as if he didn’t want to scare you, but he still did nonetheless. You pledged your allegiance to King Aegon and kept quiet, listening to the first piece of advice he gave you. He introduced himself to you as Ser Criston Cole. You feared for your life, and the only thing seemingly keeping it here was this Ser Criston Cole. 

After a while, Ser Criston left you alone. And for a while, you sat confused as so many things were running through your head. Your cries continued as well did the trembles in your hands, the hands you couldn’t pull your eyes from as they were covered with your love's blood. 

A maid who was silent the whole time came in with a tub and began to bathe you after you were alone for a while. Why? You had no clue. A bath did seem nice though, you wished to be rid of the horrors that painted your body. You cried as the maid washed you, traumatized by the events of that day. The clear water turned a murky brown as your old life was washed away. A new dress was gifted to you. One of a deep green and a sinch in the middle, tied with golden strings. It was long-sleeved and floor length, keeping you warm in the harsh, cold, rainy environment where the camp was located. And along was an optional green coat of fur, embroidered with beautiful designs. Something you would never normally choose, but there wasn’t really a choice. The dress was soft and felt a bit snug around your body, but you didn’t feel like complaining would be a good idea at the moment. 

Your hair was combed by this maid as her quick hands moved through your locks. It reminded you of your old life and your old Lady maid. Who you thought must be dead by now. The soothing words of your old Lady maid calmed you for a bit, as you closed your eyes and pretended you were simply not there. 

The maid dressed you and quickly left. You didn’t know the Dornish man was guarding this tent until the maid left, and you saw a glimpse of his armor from the flap of the tent that was exposed when she left. 

Ser Criston returned and looked you up and down. It was not in a perverse way though, more of an inspection. Like you were some… some item being prepared. He sighed. 

“He’ll be happy.” Ser Criston stated, crossing his arms. 

“Who, may I ask?” you finally spoke. 

“Prince Aemond.” Ser Criston replied, giving you one last look up and down. “He spared you for a reason, my Lady. You should be eternally grateful for him and his grace when it came to you.” 

Prince Aemond? Having grace? 

Ser Criston escorted you to another tent. The men whistled and whooped as you walked by, looking like a fresh piece of meat to the soldiers who hadn’t felt the touch of their ladies for weeks. Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked at your boots, praying this nightmare would end. But oh, it had just begun. 

Prince Aemond sat in his tent. It was identical to every single one each soldier had on the outside, but on the inside, it was quite different. The delicately carved chairs and a large bed of hay with many pelts over it caught your eye before the Prince did. You didn’t even notice Criston leaving your side until you turned to speak to him, and he was gone. 

He was sitting in front of the fire. His armor was gone, and his hair was cleaned. His stockings were hung by the fire as they seemed to be drying as he sat in a chair, not looking in your direction. You stood still, fear wracked your body as you tried to think of something to do. Should you speak? Just stand there? Wait for him to approach you? 

“Come,” he said commandingly as he flicked a few of his fingers towards you, beckoning you over to his side. The Prince didn’t even look your way. His voice was much calmer than it was at Harrenhal. You listened, approaching him with hesitance. 

He looked up at you, taking in your features with the same blank look as he did at Harrenhal.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked harshly as you stood next to his chair awkwardly. You nodded. “Mmm…” he hummed once again, moving his hand in a way to ask you to sit in the opposite chair. The chair creaked a bit as you sat, giving an unexpected chill down your spine. 

“When I speak to you, you respond to me in words. No nods. Understood?” he scolded you, his tone of voice making you twitch. 

“Yes.” you squeaked out, almost silently. 

“Yes, what…?” Prince Aemond asked you, testing you to see your limits. “Yes, my Prince.” 

“Good girl. You learn quickly.” he purred, standing up from his chair to approach you. You froze as he did, not wanting to mess up. This was your only chance at survival. The Prince circled you, almost as a lion did to its prey not once, not twice, but three times. You couldn’t meet his gaze. 

“What is your name…?” he asked, now standing in front of you. You answered him swiftly with your name and your house. 

“Your father bent the knee to the Princess Rhaenyra, is that correct?”

Your heart skipped a beat. He had? You genuinely had no clue, as you were already living in Harrenhal with your betrothed as the war broke out. 

“M-my father, your grace, I have not seen him in many moons.” you quivered, your eyes fixated on the brick of the fireplace. 

“But yet you are his kin…” Aemond sighed, picking up a lock of your hair in his hands. “Such a shame. Ironic, isn’t it? He had pledged his allegiance to Rhaenyra, and yet you are mine.” he chuckled. His laugh sent chills down your spine. You stayed silent.

“How old are you?” he asked, dropping your piece of hair and looking down at you menacingly. 

“Twenty, your grace.” you replied hastily, afraid of his presence. “And I suspect you were betrothed to a Strong boy, is that it…?” 

You nodded.

“Use your words,” he said demeaningly, his long lanky fingers meeting your chin as he pulled your sad eyes up to meet his gaze. “Yes, my Prince.” “Good girl.”

His words went straight between your thighs. “I think I’ll like you,” he says, letting go of your chin. Tears brimmed your eyes. “Do not worry. I will not touch you tonight.” he says somewhat softer, as he grabs your hand. You didn’t even realize they were shaking. “Touch me?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“Oh yes. Don’t you understand what this is…?” he asked, making her feel like an idiot. The way he spoke was so demeaning, making her feel like she was the stupidest person alive. How had she not figured out what this was yet? “No.” she whispered. It was all making sense now. 

“You are mine. Mine to do with what I please. My spoil, as some say. You will do as I say, won’t you?” he asked, letting go of your shaking hand. You felt like your tongue was numb as he spoke. No emotion was shown on your face as you felt him kneel down in front of you. He placed a hand on your thigh. 

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked after a while. You met his gaze as he looked up to you, he seemed like an evil spirit had possessed him. His face was different, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. You were speechless again. Aemond was getting obviously annoyed by your lack of response. “You should be,” he said, his grip on your thigh tightening as your breath quickened. “Tell me, my Lady. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me? Be my plaything, my lover, my company… or would you rather join the Silent Sisters? I cannot kill such a beauty as yourself.” 

His other hand moved to caress your cheek. He awaited your answer. 

“I-I…” you stuttered. The Prince grew impatient. “Answer me, now!” he yelled at you. You finally cracked.

“Yes, yes, I’ll listen, I'm sorry.” you cried, cringing at the sudden raising of his voice. His cruel smile only widened. “Good girl.”

-

He was gentle to you at first, but every time after grew harsher and harsher. He often prided himself on seeing you at his mercy, his hand on your stomach as he fucked you slowly. He liked the way you muttered his name as he held you in his arms as you were about to reach your peak. He enjoyed watching you leak his seed out on your thighs as you rested in bed after a long night of pleasure. 

Even if he was rough, he never treated you as his whore. He would often put your own pleasure above his, which was quite unexpected. In many senses around the camp, you were seen as his Queen. Even if that was far from the truth. 

He never liked it much when you spoke. He had no desire to know about your life, your dislikes, and interests, or anything remotely personal about you. He used you. He took and took and gave nothing in return, besides a mutual pleasure for each other. He took your company, as you would sleep next to him in his bed every night. He never held you or whispered sweet nothings to you as you fell asleep. He took your time, as you waited around for him all day. You had grown quite lazy and bored, with close to nothing to do. He took your worth. Yes, he didn’t treat you as his whore. But he would call you names that made you feel like one. You figured it made him feel better about himself, making you beg for his cock and calling you a slut afterward. Aemond would often tell you mid fucking about how beautiful you would look bearing his bastards. Or how good you looked with him buried inside of you. 

Aemond had returned for the night. You had gotten used to the angry footsteps and the sudden whooshing open of the tent door flap when he would return from his days. You hadn’t seen him for five days. You heard of his return to the camp by a few passing soldiers and expected his presence in your chambers tonight. But tonight seemed different. It was eerie how quiet he was. He was usually eager to get his armor off and to fuck you, but tonight was more solemn. He angrily threw his eyepatch on the floor and kicked his armor. It startled you a bit as you watched him seemingly throw a tantrum. Mentally preparing yourself for a night of torture, you began your routine as you had in the past few weeks and began undressing.

“No,” he said, emotionless, not facing to look at you. You stopped. This had never happened. He took off his armor and set it aside, and made his way slowly to the bed in his underclothes. You sat on the bed, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t look at you. Aemond could sense your confusion and your uncertainty. 

“Not tonight.” he said, his voice sounding weaker and weaker with each syllable. “Oh.” you said quietly, adjusting your nightgown back on comfortably. You sat in bed next to him. 

He reached up a hand and took a lock of your hair in it and twirled it in his fingers. He hummed. You just looked down at what he was doing and watched his fingers, then looked into his gaze. He seemed to have revealed an emotion, for the first time in weeks. Sadness. 

You wanted to ask what was wrong but decided to keep your mouth shut. He didn’t like when you talked. 

He waited a long time before he spoke. He sat there, not moving, and seemingly staring into space. Groups of soldiers marched by, the only sound breaking the deafening silence between the two of you. You knew better than to speak. 

“How has Hilda been treating you?” he asks quietly, still not meeting your gaze. 

“Hilda?” you asked, confused. “Your maid.” he said annoyed that you didn’t know what he was talking about. His tongue had a sharp, defensive tone to it. 

“Oh,” you replied, confused as to why he was making conversation. He never usually did. “She’s been kind.” 

Aemond nodded. He was trying. So hard. He just didn’t know how to approach you with what he really needed tonight. Kindness was something he had not equipped in a while. 

“Come,” he said, placing a hand on your back suddenly. You were hesitant. “I won’t hurt you.”

You listened to him and scooted over in the bed, lying next to Aemond as he wrapped his arms around you in a sudden movement. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and fear as he did, he pulled you closer to him. You had so many questions, questions you wished to ask and knew you couldn’t. And you stood still as touched you, confused as to what he wanted from you.

“Do you want me to embrace you?” you asked softly. He nodded, burying his head near your chest and the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath on your neck.

What the fuck was this…?

One of your hands wrapped around his head and cradled it as the other moved to his back and gave him some small circles with your fingers. He let out a long sigh. 

He looked up at you as he rested in your arms. His eyes were wet and his face was one you had never seen before. Aemond seemed like a complete stranger at that moment. “Do you love me?” he asked her with a tired voice.

She most certainly did not. But that was not the answer he was currently seeking.

“I do,” she said, caressing the side of his face and moving stray strands of hair out of the way. He just held her tighter and placed his head back on your chest, his breathing becoming shallow as he tried to hold in the tears. You were so utterly confused. He knew she truly didn’t love him. But he needed to know if she was obedient enough to lie for him. To hold his secrets, to be an extension of just his thing to toy with. He needed somebody desperately right now, and the only thing he craved was touch. Touch and your attention. He didn’t love you and you didn’t love him. But it hurt nobody to just play the part they were supposed to that night. He was in need.

“I-I went to Rook’s Rest,” Aemond began to speak. His tone was different from his usual commands, he sounded scared. You had never seen this side of him before. She nodded, stroking his hair as he spoke. “My brother, Aegon, and I…” 

You had never heard him speak of the King so informally. 

“We fought our cousin Rhaenys and her dragon… and we won but-” his voice hitched. He was… he was shaking? “It’s okay.” you said softly, daring to speak as your lover shook in your grasp. 

You knew tears were now falling down his cheeks but didn’t dare to say a single thing about it. You knew deep down, he was just a scared little boy. Aemond was only twenty as you were. His big persona of being a ruthless kinslayer was peeling back and he was revealing himself to you. It was something he never did, only in the solemn private moments with his mother years ago. 

He had broken at the sight of what he was about to tell her.

“Aegon got hurt. Really bad.”

He was telling you confidential information about the King. He was trusting you. “I-I’m sorry.” you replied sincerely. His hands moved around your ribcage and the other snaked around your back. He felt the fabric of your dress and played with it between his fingers as he tried to calm himself. “H-he can’t walk and he’s burned terribly and he’s barely conscious, and his dragon is injured, and... You-you mustn't tell anyone.” he whimpered, his tone stiffening at the last sentence as his ramblings came to an end. “Never,” you whispered, combing through his hair with your fingers to try and calm him. 

“I’m- they made me… they made me Prince Regent.” Aemond confessed as the words left his lips with a sour taste. You could tell he was terrified. 

Oh shit.

Aemond in a sense, was King. She finally understood how dire King Aegon’s condition was and understood why Aemond had been acting so strangely that night. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you asked him softly, trying to look to the positive side. If the positive side even existed in this situation. 

“No!” he seemingly barked at you suddenly, making you tense a bit. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, running his hand over the side of your ribcage and down to your hips. You had never heard this man once apologize for anything. He looked up to you with his red eyes as he craved your touch. You cupped his cheek, clearing the tears from his right cheek with your thumb. You knew he was afraid. Shocked. Terrified. And he was asking for you. 

“I will pray for the King’s recovery, your grace.”

“Aemond…” he said softly. You were confused and he read it on your face. “When-when we’re like this. Don’t bother with the titles. I am just Aemond.” 

You nodded. 

“I will pray for the King’s recovery, Aemond.” you corrected yourself. “And that your reign may be successful.” 

She kissed the top of his head. He held her close. 

“Everything will be okay.”

He held you like that for the rest of the night. No violence. No sex. No words. Just you and him, in a moment where he could have his last bit of clarity before he had to put the mask back on and perform for everyone else in his life. He was quite thankful for you that night. Aemond wept quietly as you held the most powerful man in Westeros all throughout that night. 

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko

[lgbtiqrefugeesblog]

Stand with Queer Refugees in Africa: Peter's Story

Survival Funds for LGBTIQ'S Refugees

My name is Pablo , and I am an LGBTIQ leader and representative here in an emcampment, where we have faced a great deal of homophobia in this environment, including from fellow refugees.

Unfortunately, UNHCR staff, including medical attendants, are homophobic to us and don’t provide services to us. This has been reported several times to the people responsible but help has been in vain. Thus, seeking support from fellow LGBTIQ organizations and individual well-wishers to attain medication from private hospitals in the camp has been difficult.

Additionally, food provided to us, as distributed at present by the UNHCR, is not enough to sustain us for a month which is in a ratio of 1:2 beans and Rice.

Thus, we are seeking support to overcome scarcity and hunger.

We will be very glad to receive any positive feedback in terms of financial help, advice and advocacy support!

Many thanks.

life at the refugee camp is extremely hard for the LGBTQI community since from 2019 when I fled to 2024 due to rampant HOMOPHOBIA within the camp. This was witnessed through daily attacks by homophobic fellow refugees and the co-host community.

LGBTQI refugees live under great fear whereby we're being targeted by the homophobes; this has resulted in severe injuries where these homophobes ambush when armed with machetes. Over time, property has been also lost and even lives where we lost three of our mates in kakuma before I left there. This was witnessed in the recent attack when two LGBTQI refugees were set on fire where they suffered third degree burns, which resulted in one losing his life while the other is on life support in hospital update.

In addition, sexual harassment has also been witnessed here in refugee camp to the LGBTQI community. Lesbians on several occasions have been raped not once but twice. Beyond any reasonable doubt, this has made the most hostile land for LGBTQI community.

Furthermore, the LGBTQI community lives under great suffering due to the fact we are willing to work to earn a living but fail to get employment opportunities due to our sexual orientation. This has made life so much harder for us minority group, being marginalized amidst these arid areas of camps. We have faced various attacks from homophobes and also illness related to poor standards of living.

Even so, despite all the misery, we try to find some time to kill the stress when celebrating official LGBTIQ days and festivals. Below is when we celebrated the Pride Day and also had some couples officially get married while maintaining a low profile.

Please help and support us to overcome our starvations, get good medications and shelters because as we are now we daily face the same obstacles while sleeping out side😭.

Yours only our hopes.

[wearebarca]

6. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 4,3k

A/N: Hello, notify me if you'd like a little album of the pictures Rosalie takes. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

“ You are telling me that tomorrow, Alexia Putellas is taking you on a date.” Lia Walti is a very calm and down to earth person, which is why Rosalie valued the woman’s advice and opinion. It had been a while since she had called her friend, the last time was her first week in Barcelona, but after her afternoon at the beach, Rosalie needed some of that calmness and a fresh set of eyes on the situation.

“ I mean, is it really a date? I basically forced her to spend the day with me. Besides, she could’ve just said that to confirm the time and not the fact that it’s a date. English is tricky as hell, you know.” Behind the Swiss, Rosalie could hear a loud laugh followed by a few sentences that made the player laugh. “ Is that Leah grumbling in the background?”

“ Yes, wait, she’s coming.” Shuffling could be heard as Leah Williamson appeared in the camera frame, next to Lia.

“ I said that of course, Alexia Putellas, twice Ballon d’Or winner, international football star, doesn’t know proper English. Of course Frenchy, that makes perfect sense.” Leah said, with a serious expression that soon faded once she saw her friend’s pout.

“ I didn’t ask for your opinion, Grumpy.”

“ It’s my pleasure to provide my valuable insight nonetheless.”

“ I just don’t know how to treat tomorrow, you know.” The two Arsenal players could see how this was affecting their friend, but they both knew that the French-Canadian was simply scared after what had happened in England. All she needed was that little push to dare let herself be comfortable with another again.

“Listen Liebling, tomorrow is nothing more than two people spending a day off together. Nothing more, nothing less. You simply enjoy the time you spend with her and the rest just comes naturally.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right.” Leah said, earning a small slap from the swiss. Rosalie took a deep breath. Her friends were right, this was no different from the supper they shared in Sevilla, but still, she could not help her anxiousness at the thought of spending the whole day with the captain.

“ Do you know what time she’s going to pick you up? Or are you meeting her somewhere?” Lia asked.

Rosalie froze. She had not realized that she had not discussed this with Alexia, nor did she get the blonde’s phone number before leaving the beach. “I don’t know, I didn’t take her phone number.” She all but whispered. A thud was heard in her phone speaker. She looked up only to see Leah’s head had made contact with their table. Lia was laughing.

“Can’t you just DM her?”

“What if she doesn’t answer her DM’s? She probably gets a hundred a day and doesn’t check them anymore. I don’t know, how am I…”

“Ok take a breath Frenchy, Grandma Bronze probably has her number.” Leah said, interrupting her friend that was clearly spiraling. Rosalie hadn’t thought about that. Otherwise, Ingrid probably had it too.

“Right, I should text her to see.”

“You do that Frenchy.” Leah said. “And don’t forget to tell us about your date, we’re invested now.”

“By the way, can you remind us of your marathon’s date so we can book our plane tickets.” Lia asked excitedly.

“ It’s the week after national camp.” The Canadian said checking her calendar where the dates were highlighted.

“ Are you still our photographer for camp and the Euros?” Leah asked.

“ I just confirmed it with the Lionesses management, yes! I can’t wait to see you guys, I’ve missed you.” Rosalie said excitedly.

“Are you flying with the Barcelona girls or leaving early to prepare?”

“ I’m flying with them, the marathon is three days after so I should be fine.”

“ We’ll meet you in Barcelona the day before the race. You should send us your address so we can book the closest hotel to your place.” Rosalie was about to answer when her phone started to vibrate. Upon a closer look, she realized that it wasn’t a number she recognized. She picked up the phone from the counter and opened her texts.

“ Hola Rosalia, Lucia gave me your number I hope it is ok:)”

Rosalie was silent, eyes fixed on her phone, offering the two Arsenal girls a perfect view of her wide eyes and forehead. There is only one person who called her Rosalia“ She texted you, didn't she?” Leah said matter of factly.

“ Mhm”

“ Answer her Frenchy, for fuck’s sake.” Leah said, exasperated by her friend’s behavior.

“ We’re gonna leave you to it Rosie.” Lia said, trying to calm down Leah who, even if she tried to deny it, was very much invested in the situation.

“ Merci les filles, I appreciate it a lot. Can’t wait to see you.”

“Go get her Frenchy.” Rosalie rolled her eyes then ended the call. And focused on the Spanish captain’s message.

“ Of course it’s ok :) I was wondering how you wanted things to work for tomorrow.”

“ I thought I could come pick you up around 10 if that’s ok with you, we could go get coffee and go to the market from there.”

“ Sounds good to me! I will send you my address.”

“ perfecto. See you tomorrow Rosalia.”

For the rest of the night, Rosalie spent her time deep cleaning her apartment. She wanted everything to be perfect for when Alexia would come. She picked her outfit, which consisted of flowy linen pants with a white tank top and a light sweater. After showering and making sure once again that her apartment looked presentable, she hopped in bed.

Unfortunately for the photographer, sleep did not come easy. An hour later, she was still tossing and turning, too apprehensive of tomorrow’s day to relax. After another half hour, she gave up and migrated to the couch with her laptop. If she was going to stay awake, she might as well make use of this time to get some work done.

A knock on the door woke the photographer up. It took a moment for Rosalie to realize that she actually never made it to her bed last night, and she had fallen asleep with her laptop opened by her side. Panic flooded her body as she jumped off the couch and ran to her bedroom to throw on the outfit she had chosen last night. Another knock followed by a small bark was heard and Rosalie all but ran to the door to unlock. She opened the door and bolted back in her room. “ I’m so sorry! I’m almost ready! Come in, make yourself home!”

She put her hair in a loose braid and grabbed the first cap she found in her closet and placed it on her head. Once satisfied with her appearance, she made her way to the living room, only to be met by a small excited ball of fluff. Alexia was still standing in the doorway, silently looking around the space. Rosalie picked up the small dog and made her way towards the footballer. “Allo! I’m sorry I seemed to have overslept.” she said with an apologetic smile.

Alexia broke out from her spell and smiled at the photographer. “Another late night working I see.” She said motioning towards the sofa where her computer and her pile of blankets from the night still laid.

“ Yeah, I couldn't sleep unfortunately.” A small smirk appeared on the captain’s features, but whatever she had been thinking about was eclipsed by Nala who had decided to give the smaller woman a deep face clean.

“Nala no!” Alexia said, reaching out to grab the little beast in order to make her stop her intensive licking.

“ Oh, it’s ok Ale I don’t mind.” She said, petting the small dog in her arms.

“ I hope you don’t mind me bringing her. We usually spend this type of day together, and she was very happy to know that we wouldn’t be alone today.”

“ I’m honoured to be allowed to spend the day with you guys.” She said laughing. “ I’m ready to head out if you are!”

They went down the stairs, Nala still in the photographer’s arms. Alexia’s car was parked right in front of her building. The footballer went ahead of her only to stop and open the door for the photographer. “ Merci! This is a nice car.”

“Si, we have a deal with the brand. It is fun to drive, more fun than your little car for sure.” She said with a teasing smile. Rosalie Let out a sound of indignation.

“Do not laugh at my car! It does the job very well!”

“ It’s so small, very cute.” Rosalie rolled her eyes which made Alexia laugh as she started the car and drove away. The drive was short and filled with laughter and fun banter, mainly about the photographer’s car.

“ I am only saying that you can’t carry a lot of stuff in this little car. It’s probably very uncomfortable.”

“It’s very spacious I’ll have you know!”

“It’s good for you I guess. Nina pequeña.”

“Hey! I’m average size!” The brunette said laughing as she turned around to look out the window. The streets looked familiar to the French-Canadian who realized that she had run here just before leaving for Sevilla.

“ I think I’ve run around here before.”

“This is my favorite part of the city. Only locals come here. The beach is nice and the little market is right next to it. It’s very calm.” She parked the car in a small street and got out to go around and opened the door for the photographer.as she stepped out of the car, she took a moment to really take in the blond. She was wearing a pair of light blue jeans, a loose shirt she had left halfway unbuttoned so her bralette showed. Her trusty white nike hat completed the look. She was gorgeous and Rosalie’s nervousness spiked a little at the sight.

Rosalie handed the blond Nala’s leash and they started walking towards the small shops that were lining up the street. It was a lot more lively then the last time she came here. Families were walking around and people were sitting outside the restaurants. The photographer turned to look at the footballer. Alexia smiled at her and beckoned her towards a small, rustic looking coffee shop.

“This is our first stop.” She opened the door and Rosalie was instantly met with the smell of freshly brewed espresso and baked pastries. A loud gasp was heard in the small shop which made the brunette jump a little. A small woman, who looked around her mothers age was currently making her way from behind the counter towards the duo.

“Alexia mija donde has estado! ¡Hace mucho que no te vemos!”

“Lo siento señora García, no he tenido mucho tiempo últimamente. » Alexia said, stepping forward, letting the tiny woman hug her fiercely. Rosalie stayed behind with a smile on her face as she witnessed the interaction. The woman and Alexia were chatting rapidly in Spanish, making it hard for the photographer to understand anything. She zoned out for a moment, taking in the space. This cafe reminded her of the one near the training center but, this one felt even more homy and intimate. The walls were full of art work which upon a closer look at the identification tag, were all made by local artists and available for purchase. The wall closest to the register was a floor to ceiling library with a multitude of books and board games available for the customers. A small children sized table in the far corner of the room was filled with coloring books and various types of crayons. The art work displayed around the area was very obviously made by children, and Rosalie laughed a little when she realized that they too, were available for purchase.

Strong hands grabbed her waist and turned her around.The photographer came face to face with the small older woman. Her smile was warm and her arms were already opened, ready to engulf the photographer in a bone crushing hug.

“¿Es esta la razón por la que has estado tan ocupada, querida?”

“No señora, ella es la razón por la que finalmente me tomo un día libre.” Alexia said with a fond smile. At her words, señora Perez grabbed Rosalie’s shoulders.

“gracias, ella necesita relajarse más” She told the photographer, who stayed silent, not being able to make the translation in her head due to the rapidity of their speech.

“Inglés, señora, Rosalia is still learning Spanish”

“Yes I am sorry. You take good care of Alexia. Gracias.” Rosalie smiled at that. Meanwhile, Alexia was watching the two interact. Señora Perez had dragged the Canadian towards a wall filled with pictures, no doubt to share the shop’s history with the brunette. This place was her pride and joy, she poured everything into making this place feel like home for her customers, which is why this was one of Alexia’s favourite places in all of Barcelona.

She made her way to the counter to order their drinks. Alexia had never brought anyone here, not even her sister. This was her little oasis in a city where everyone knew her name. Here, she was treated like a normal person, like a daughter even, not like the captain of FC Barcelona.

Her cups were placed in front of her by none other than Señor Perez. “ She must be important if you brought her here.” He said, leaning on the counter, watching his wife proudly showing the pictures she took of the world cup.

“Si, I feel good with her.”

“You keep this. It is rare.” Señor Perez was a man of very few words, which reminded Alexia of her own father. The man’s advice was all the more important to her. Her thoughts were interrupted by Rosalie’s return by her side.

“You really flew them to the world cup?” The brunette asked something close to admiration in her eyes. Alexia smiled at the fond memory.

“Yes I did, along with my mother and sister.” She said smiling. “They are big football fans. They deserved it, they helped me alot during my recovery.”

“Rosalia said she will come work in photos here sometime. She will get me match pictures for my wall.” The older woman said with a radiant smile, arm still hooked with the photographer’s.

“If you don’t mind me coming, that is.” The brunette said with a shy smile.

“Of course she does not mind. You come here like home. You show me ingles y me Spanish.” Señora Perez said in a tone that did not allow discussion. Alexia laughed at the woman and grabbed hers and Rosalie’s coffee.

“ Gracias María.” She said she let the smaller woman hug her. She turned to hug the photographer and whispered something in her ear that made the brunette blush furiously.

“You come back now, with pictures for my wall.” She said waving at the pair. Alexia held the door open for the French-Canadian. As soon as they stepped outside, Nala took off on the sidewalk seemingly knowing exactly what their next stop would be. They walked in the small street, side by side, sipping on their coffees while observing scenery around them.

“ How did you find this place?” The brunette finally asked.

“ When I ruptured my ACL, I got in a dark space. Even after I got the green light to walk again without the crutches, I did not want to leave home. My family started to get worried. They almost forced me to get out, go on walks. My sister told me that it was the perfect moment to really explore Barcelona, see beyond the training center and stadium.” The blond said, looking at her feet with a sad expression.

“I stumbled on this place during one of those walks. When I came in the shop was full of families and everyone seemed so friendly and happy that I decided to stay for a moment. I was scared I would get recognized but no one came to my table. I came back the week after, and the week after that as well. The third week, while I was ordering my coffee, Maria came around and asked her husband if “Senora Putellas wanted something to eat with her coffee.” That’s when I realized that they knew who I was, but simply did not treat me any different.” She said, smiling at the brunette.

“ At that moment, I truly needed that. I was still feeling like I was letting people down, or that I would never come back from this injury. It became part of my routine. Several times a week, I would go there to deal with my emails or simply to spend some time away from the football world. They always welcomed me with open arms. I invited them to my first game back. Antonio and Maria are both big Barça supporters, so I got them season tickets and to really thank them for everything they did, I paid for their trip for the World Cup.”

“ They seem like such warm, genuine people.”

“ They really are.” The blond chuckled. “ Maria seems to like you a lot. You’re gonna have to come back, otherwise she will not stop pestering me to bring you back.” The brunette laughed at that.

“ I promised her some pictures afterall.” the brunette said, already excited to see the nice couple again. The pair turned the corner and headed down a street that Rosalie recognized as the one leading to the beach. She could see that Nala was getting excited and pulling more intensely on the leash. “ You said that you found this place on one of your walks? You must live close then.”

“ Si, a few streets from her in fact. I’ll show you one day.” Alexia said, with a playful smile, which made the brunette blush slightly. They reached the beach soon after. There weren't many people around, only the odd couple walking with their dog or a few families having a picnic. Alexia pulled out a small ball out of her bag and took off Nala’s leash who barked happily at the sight of the small football her mom was holding.

Rosalie thought she would melt on the spot. The captain threw the ball and the small dog instantly took off. Rosalie sat in the sand with her coffee, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelted of the sea and something sweet, like strawberries and coconut. The photographer opened her eyes and was met with shiny hazel ones.

“Your eyes are really beautiful.” Rosalie didn’t know what came over her. It was as if she could not control the words that came out of her mouth. The blond blushed furiously at the compliment. The photographer was about to apologise in fear of having been too forward but, she was interrupted by something resembling a little rat running towards them with the small football in its mouth.

“Nala! Seriously!” Alexia said, pulling out a small towel from her bag. “ She does this every time I’m distracted.” She said attempting to dry the small dog who was too excited to stay put.

“ Might as well let her play now that she’s already wet.” The photographer said laughing as she took the ball and threw it in the direction of the waves.

They stayed well after Nala exhausted herself running after her toy. She was now laying at Alexia’s feet, happily receiving pets from her mom.

“The only thing I miss about Canada is the nature really. Endless green forests with so many lakes.” Rosalie said with a nostalgic smile. “ It’s so beautiful, even during winter.”

“ I heard it gets very cold.” Alexia said with a grimace.

“ oh oui, where I’m from it gets as low as minus 30 degrees or more.”

“ I don’t like the cold.” Alexoa said, shivering just at the thought of such frigid conditions.

“ I bet you’d like skiing. You feel so free going down the mountain, like nothing can stop you.”

“ sounds dangerous to me. Although the after-ski sounds great.”

“ Yes! With hot chocolate and cheese-fondues and all the good stuff.” At the mention of food, a loud rumbling was heard coming from the photographer’s stomach. Alexia stood up and clipped Nala’s leash on her collar.

“ Let’s go to the market. We can find you something to eat there.” She said, holding out her hand for the photographer to grab.

The market was just a bit farther on the boardwalk, and was buzzing with merchants selling different types of products. It went from food like fresh vegetables to the latest catch of the day, as well as different artisanal items like handmade jewelry or little souvenir shops. Rosalie stopped in front of a display showing some bracelets harbouring the colours of their club. She decided she would get one and give it to Alexia at the end of the day. Unbeknownst to her, a few stands away, Alexia was currently picking out a similar gift, along with something that would calm the photographer’s hunger.

They arrived at Alexia’s car an hour later with bags filled with everything they needed to make Alexia’s paella. Rosalie was surprised to see that the footballer did not ask for her address or any directions to get back to her apartment.

Rosalie felt nervous at the thought of Alexia coming into her home. She’d always been skittish about inviting people in her space. It was her sanctuary and she had just started feeling home here, but seeing Alexia in her living room eyes scanning over the variety of cameras and pictures on display with Nala already making herself at home on her couch, Rosalie decided rather quickly that she did not mind having those two around.

“This is you and your uncle right?” Rosalie did not need to see on which picture Alexia had stopped. It surely was the one where she was on her uncle’s back after an important college football game. This was merely weeks before he had passed and it was one of the most precious memories she’d made. Sensing she had touched a sensitive subject, Alexia moved away from the picture and joined the French-Canadian in the kitchen area.

“ Now, I have heard that you are terrible at cooking, so you will do as I say, si?” Her tone was firm, yet playful as she was already taking control of the space. Rosalie felt a chill run down her spine at the blond’s words, but quickly shook it off. Or she thought so, because as soon as she turned around, the brunette felt hands at her waist, guiding them towards the cutting board and knife Alexia had set up for her.

“ Would you mind cutting these for me?” She asked, with her hands still lingering on the brunette’s hips. She was so close Rosalie could feel her breath tickling the hair at the base of her neck. She closed her eyes for a second, attempting to slow her breathing which had quickened at the captain’s touch.

“ Mhm,” Was all that she was able to answer.

“ Bueno, you can start with the onions and peppers.” she said, finally letting go of the photographer. During the whole preparation, Alexia made it incredibly hard for Rosalie to focus on not cutting off any of her digits. Everytime she would move around in the kitchen she would make sure to brush against the brunette or hold her by the waist when passing behind her. It was almost as if the Catalan woman was doing it on purpose. If only the Canadian would have turned around, she would have her suspicions confirmed by the smirk adorning the captain’s face every time she would notice the photographer’s breath hitch or the goosebumps that would form whenever she would utter more instructions close to her ear.

Rosalie was sure it was due to divine intervention if she was able to be of any use in the preparation of this meal. Her apartment was filled with the delicious smell of freshly made paella and Alexia looked satisfied with what they had cooked together. “ I think this is the closest it’s ever been to my mother’s” She said with a proud smile. “ All I needed was the right partner.”

The brunette smiled as she took out plates and made her way towards the living room when she had set up the coffee table. “ So what do you usually do while eating? Watch a movie, listen to music?”

“ I normally watch old games of our next opponents to study their plays better.” Alexia answered, bringing the dish to the table.

“ Even on your days off?” The blond gave an embarrassed smile as she pulled out her phone.

“ You did say you wanted to see what I do on my days off.” She said laughing. She pulled up on her phone the most recent Madrid CFF match she could find and casted it on Rosalie’s tv. They both ate while watching, occasionally discussing plays and weaknesses they could eventually use in the upcoming game. As the evening went on, both women slowly gravitated towards the center of the sof. Alexia ended up with her arm on the back of the couch, with the photographer practically nestled in the crook of her arm. It had been a long time since the captain had felt this relaxed in the presence of another person. She could feel the exhaustion slowly gaining on her, making her limbs and her eyelids heavy. The photographer shifted slightly, giving the perfect opportunity for the blond to finally warp her arm around the smaller woman’s frame.

“ Are you comfortable?” Alexia asked, turning her head slightly to watch the brunette melt in her arms.

“ Oui,” The answer came as a whisper. Alexia could see that the photographer was too, fighting against sleep. Still, she simply could not bring herself to leave, not when she felt this relaxed and at ease. She told herself that she would leave at the end of the game, so she could enjoy this peaceful moment a little while longer. Only her body had other plans, because just a few minutes later the footballer finally succumbed to the heavy pull of sleep

[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

[woso-fan91]

Second Chance at love? (Part 1)

Ona Batlle x Reader

Ona‘s long awaited return to Barcelona. Between juggling her responsibilities with Barca, her family and the World Cup, will she be able to face her past? Her first love? Her first heartbreak?

My second story, hope you guys will enjoy it

Ona‘s contract in Manchester ended and she was set to return to Barcelona bit before she could think about Barcelona and the upcoming season, the World Cup was right around the corner and the defender was terrified. The staff around the Spanish team was questionable at best and the team was too scared to even say what they want to say fearing the consequences.

The Spainard decided to make a quick trip home before the last camp, to recharge her batteries and to be finally close to her family again. That was the bright side but of course the was a dark side as well. The chance to run into the person who stole Ona‘s heart way back when she was a kid and never gave it back. Ona‘s best friend, first love and first heartbreak: Y/n Y/l/n.

Standing on the terrace overlooking the water, Ona was lost in thoughts. Her brother came closer: „Penny for your thoughts hermana.“ Ona whirled around putting her hand on her racing heart: „Joder! Don’t scare me like that idioto“ He laughed wrapping his arm around his sister: „What were you thinking about? Or rather who?“ Ona felt the blush rising to her cheeks and that was all the answer her brother needed: „Talk to her Oni… you were friends before everything and you loved each other at one point. Didn’t you two only broke up, because of your United transfer?“ Ona leaned her head closer on his shoulder: „Don’t know why she broke up with me… but it hurt like hell.“ His hand rubbed gentle circles on his sisters back: „Just think about it Onita… the way I see it you‘ll either get the closure you deserve, get your best friend back or the love of your life.“

You walked through the streets of Vilassar de Mar lost in your thoughts. Of course you heard that SHE was back, back home before she‘ll go to the World Cup in Australia and New Zealand. Ever since you made the hardest decision of your life, breaking up with her, you kept tabs on your little defender. Ona developed in one of the best left backs the Women‘s game has ever seen and you were nothing but proud of her. It broke your heart, knowing it would break Ona‘s heart when you ended things but seeing Ona thrive on and off the field made you even more sure of your decision even when it hurt you both. What hurt you more was the pictures and speculation around Ona and a certain English defender but you supposed it‘s what you deserved.

A little hand pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at Maya, who smiled brightly up at you: „Hola Y/n, did you hear? Ona Batlle is back home! She is so cool and I wanna be like her when I grow up.“ You smiled and kneeled infront of her: „Hola pequeño, si, I heard that Ona is back home. Did you know she‘ll play in the World Cup next month?“ Maya nodded quickly: „Si I know. I asked Mami and Papi if I‘m allowed go watch it and they agreed.“ You ruffled her hair with a smile and picked her up: „Muy bien. Tell you what… we‘ll watch it together, si?“

Ona took her brothers advice to heart and began looking for Y/n. Misses Rodriguez ran into Ona on the street: „Oh it‘s so good to see you again Ona. We‘re all so proud of what you achieved in the last years. Y/n especially. She moves heaven and hell to watch all you‘re games wearing your jerseys proudly. She misses you. I hope you‘ll talk to her before you‘ll go to Australia…“ Ona listened surprised: „Si, gracias Misses Rodriguez. I‘m was actually just looking for Y/n. Do you have by chance any idea were I could find her?“ She smiled patting Ona‘s hand: „Try the youth center darling. She teaches kids to play the piano.“ Quickly Ona thanked her and made her way to the youth center were she spend so many days with Y/n falling in love with her best friend back then.

You walked into the center with Maya on yourhip while the other kids greeted you enthusiastically and begged you to play them some songs. Laughing you moved over to the piano and sat down: „Alright, alright. I‘ll play you some songs.“ Your fingers began gliding over the the keys and the kids around you settled quickly listening happily to the way you were playing and singing. Ona once again crossed your mind and you decided to play the song, that you wrote, when Ona left for Manchester:

„Girl, when I first met you, I didn't realize

You were looking to stay around but

I was looking to play around

Now I can't forget you

Can't forget your pretty smile

Took for granted the love you gave

And only thought of the love we made

Just when I found someone who could love me

Like the way that I need

I acted the fool and pushed her away from me

And I'll be thinking 'bout you

Every night and every day

'Cause in my heart I'll know

That I never should have let you go

And my love for you is

Stronger than I ever knew

But I couldn't tell you so

That I never should have let you go

Do you think about me like

I wasn't worth your time?

I would give anything I have if

You give me another chance

Do you think you're better off without me?

Playing games with your heart and mind

Oh yeah

Please don’t blame me for leaving you

Now you gotta believe in me

If you come back, girl

I promise that you'll see a

Change in my ways

I'll get down on my knees

I'll do anything you say

And I'll be thinking 'bout you

Every night and every day

'Cause in my heart I'll know

That I never should have let you go

And my love for you is

Stronger than I ever knew

But I couldn't tell you so

That I never should have let you go

Is there someone else standing where I stood

Giving you the love you never got from me?

Girl, I would give you the

World if I only could

Girl, you will see, will you come back to me

Won't you come back to me?

And I'll be thinking 'bout you

Every night and every day

'Cause in my heart I'll know

That I never should have let you go

And my love for you is

Stronger than I ever knew

But I couldn't tell you so

That I never should have let you go

And I'll be thinking 'bout you

Every night and every day

'Cause in my heart I'll know

That I never should have let you go

And my love for you is

Stronger than I ever knew

But I couldn't tell you so, no

I never should have let

No, I never should have let

No, I never should have let you go

Oh, oh, oh, oh“

„Well I‘d like to see you down on your knees, doing what I asked of you, hoping you‘ll be honest with me…“ you heard a voice you missed over the last three years. You whirled around with wide eyes and they locked with loving brown ones.

Would you guys be interested in a part 2? Feel free to let me know :)

[unidentifiedseacreature]

Glamrock Foxy Headcanons

Links to other characters at bottom of post

General headcanons to know beforehand

- Classic animatronics are better with little kids since the original pizza chain was aimed more towards under 10 before sun/moon were introduced

- They all love Dance Dance Revolution but no one can prove who the best is

- Decommissioned animatronics (Bonnie & Foxy) only hang out in their respective attractions. They don't perform or do meet and greets, can't get hired for parties and are only allowed in their attractions and in staff only areas. Their rooms are removed from Rockstar Row

Foxy🦊

- His attraction is a pirate-themed playground with a dry section and a waterpark section

- Loves Monty and Roxy. Finds them very endearing and he loves their youthful enthusiasm

- Unfortunately he's kind of used to being the forgotten member. Though the other animatronics don't see him that way

- Chica chaos enabler (imagine foxy pushing chica around in a shopping cart)

- He's bad at fazerblast *gestures to hook and eyepatch*

- He's only allowed at Roxy Raceway after hours (he gets a little dangerous)

- He can get very camp

- Loves piratecore guests and will go out of his way to greet them

- Likes to sing to himself

- Good at puzzles

- Loves storytelling. Turns his advice into metaphors and stories

- Has a habit of glamourising real life events (can be very annoying when staff are trying to do incident reports)

- Was decommissioned before Bonnie. Him and Bonnie bond over it and often hang out together while the others are busy being popular

- Straight up cannot read

- Lowkey a health and safety hazard

- The most athletic but his limbs have a tendency to fall off when he moves a lot

- Likes telling teens darker pirate stories, usually real ones but he gets in trouble if he gets caught

FNAF Character Headcanons

Glamrock Freddy

Montgomery Gator

Glamrock Chica

Roxanne Wolf

Daycare Attendant

Glamrock Bonnie

DJ Music Man

[gavisuntiedboot]

Blue raspberry (Gavi x Reader)

28 day writing prompt challenge - prompts are here

Day 11: Late night McDonald's run

Warning: mentions/ alluding to eating disorders! Mentions of being scared to eat certain foods! If you're not comfortable please don't read!

"Pablo, I'm here, but they won't let me come into the parking lot because they don't recognize my car, so you're going to need to come up to."

"I'm walking up to you right now. Pull over to the side."

You moved your car from in front of the barrier to wait as close as possible on the side of the road. Despite the fact that it was 9:15pm, there were still about a dozen fans waiting to see the players emerge, hoping to get photos and autographs. You saw Gavi's hooded figure emerge, and he looked for your car. You flashed your lights to notify him where you were, but you notified the fans as well. They ran over and swarmed him, making it almost impossible to get to you. He took a few pictures and signed a few shirts before security intervened, separating him from his loyal supporters.

He got into your car and threw his backpack over his shoulder into the back seat, sighing and sinking into the seat. There was a path for you drive between the fans, and so you left Camp Nou and the flashes of iPhones behind you.

"Great. Now my Ford is going to be all over Twitter. People will want to get pictures with Gavi's chauffer. I'll never have a moment of peace."

He let out a tired laugh and pulled his hood down, finally relaxing as you hit the road.

"First of all, you already stick out for driving this obnoxiously American car in the middle of Spain. And second, why didn't you just tell security you were here to pick me up?"

"Gavi, can you imagine if security just let random girls in if they said they were there to see you? You would have been kidnapped a long time ago."

You rarely ever picked up Gavi. Your relationship was still relatively new, and he didn't want you to be hounded by the press and by people on social media making unfounded and nasty comments. Plus, he usually had a ride. He often arrived and left with Pedri, who was all too happy to have some company on his way to work in the mornings. If not Pedri, then another member of the squad (or even a member of staff) was always happy to make sure he got to and from practice safely (and didn't get snatched by a random fan).

But today, he was just in the worst mindset. It was freezing in Barcelona, and he hated to practice in the cold. As usual, he was slipping and sliding around the field, even more than usual due to the rain of the previous night. He was cold and wet, and he was being constantly critiqued by the coaching staff because he was just not in top form today. To make matters worse, he was starving. He had been following Robert's "healthy diet" advice, but sometimes he got so fixated on not eating the wrong thing that he just forgot to eat altogether. He had finished some weight training and was ready to hit the shower and go home when he got the news from Pedri.

"The Adidas reps are coming over to get me fitted for some new boots. I wont be leaving until 10:30."

Gavi almost cried at the news that he was going to be held at the Camp so late. He was exhausted. He was cold. He wanted to see his girlfriend. And so he swallowed his pride and called you, asking you to rev up the gas-guzzler and pick him up, even if it meant being photographed together.

"Mi corazón, are you okay? You're giving off more distressed vibes than usual."

"Honestly, I don't know," he replied, turning to look at you. "I've just been feeling drained and down. Everything is irritating me and I just want to sit in bed and do nothing."

A moment of silence passed. You didn't know what to say. You understood how Pablo felt: it was hard living up to so much pressure and expectations, and even if it wasn't full-blown depression, it was enough to make you worried. You didn't want these feelings to start interfering with his day-to-day, because you knew that would just make him feel worse. You weren't a therapist, but you wanted to do whatever you could to provide him with a little bit of comfort.

"... do you want to go to McDonald's?"

"What?" He said, looking over at you with his eyebrows stitched together in confusion, like you had asked the question in a different language.

"Well I mean when I've had a shit day I usually find myself in the McDonald's drive-thru. Nothing makes me feel as good as a 9-piece nugget meal and an Oreo McFlurry. But if you just want to go home I can just take you home."

"I... don't even remember the last time I went to McDonald's."

"Are you being serious?"

"Yeah. I eat a lot at the club and have my macros tracked by the nutritionists there. And then usually I'm with the boys and Eric or someone else cooks. And I don't have a car, so it prevents me from coming here for a McChicken whenever I want."

You drove for a few more minutes before turning into the drive through.

"Welcome to McDonald's what can I get for you?"

You placed your order, going a little overboard and getting everything that looked somewhat appealing. You turned to Gavi.

"What do you want?"

"All that food was for you?!"

"Quickly."

"Um... maybe I just get a small fries. I don't want to ruin all the work I've done by pigging out."

You looked at Gavi with wide eyes. It was dawning on you how much he was actually worried about his eating habits for fear of being ridiculed by the club.

"For him can I get a large McChicken meal with a blue raspberry slushie and- M&Ms or Oreo?"

"What?"

"Hurry up Pablo or we'll be here all night. M&Ms or Oreo?"

"But I- fine. Oreo."

"And an Oreo McFlurry. That's all"

You left the speaker, waiting in line to pay, and you looked over at Pablo, whos cheeks were bright red. He was looking directly in front of him, avoiding eye contact with you.

"What's wrong Pablito? You just said you liked McChickens."

"I do amor, that's not the problem." He said, looking at you. You took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together.

"It's just been a long time since I let myself eat this kind of stuff. And I mean I know that one time will be fine but I just... I don't know how to not feel guilty for having fried food for the first time in like a year."

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it gently, rubbing the back of it with your thumb.

"Pablo, you guys just won the Spanish Supercup less than a month ago - and you were in top form might I add. I know it's hard to let yourself have simple pleasures, but you deserve to have things that make you happy every now and then. And plus, this meal is probably better for you than two beers."

He smiled widely, leaning over to give you a gentle kiss. You reciprocated, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips against yours until the car behind you honked, causing you both to swiftly pull away.

You moved to the window, pulling out your wallet to pay.

"Corazón, you don't have to pay for the food. I can get it."

"Oh my God Pablo Gavi?"

He had forgotten to pull his hood up, and now the man at the window looked ready to faint. Pablo panicked. He did not want to be photographed in this moment.

"Why don't you get something for him to sign for you?" You asked sweetly, and Gavi squeezed your arm, greatful for your quick thinking. The employee ran off to find something for Gavi to sign.

"I think my card fell in my bag. Pablito, can you open up my McDonald's app on my phone so I can get the reward points?"

The employee returned, hands shaking as he handed you a shirt and a Sharpie for Gavi. The app lit up Gavi's face and just before he gave you the phone, his eyes got wide.

"Bebe, why do you have 7,000 McDonald's points."

".... I'm sad often. Hurry up and sign the shirt."

You got your food and drove back to Pablo's house.

"It's your obligation as a passenger to eat fries out of the bag while they are hot, and occasionally feed some to me." You said playfully. He smirked at you, grabbing some fries and taking a bite.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just forgot how good fat and salt are."

At Pablo's house, he tried to set the food on the table, but you stopped him, grabbing the bag and skipping over to the couch. You set the food out on the coffee table and dimmed the lights.

"Why do the lights have to be off for us to eat?" Pablo asked, sitting on the couch and putting one arm around you, pulling you close.

"Because it's more freeing. Don't look and hyper-analyze what you're eating, Pablo. Just eat until you're full."

You unwrapped the burger and handed it to Pablo, following quickly with your own food. You put on an episode of your favorite show, and you two just sat and ate and cuddled. After 5 or 6 episodes, the food was cleared, and you and Pablo had situated yourselves on the couch. He was laying in your arms, and you alternated between eating ice cream yourself and feeding him spoonfuls.

"Bebe, I have a question?"

"Yes mi amor?"

"How did you know I was going to like blue raspberry?"

"Because you have the taste buds of a 5 year old, just like me. Why? Did you like it?"

"I loved it. I'm going to go and buy myself one every time I score a goal."

"Can I get in on this deal? I also like slushies."

"Of course mi corazón. How else am I going to get to the McDonald's? You'll be driving."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey y'all! Hope you enjoyed this one. Inspired by my own late night McDonald's run (which actually tragically ended w me spilling half the food on the floor). If you haven't had a blue raspberry slushie from McDonald's (and it's available where you are) go get one. I have met so many athletes who have this mentality around fast food, and so I wanted to give a little bit of a different perspective. Anyways, I've really been enjoying this prompt challenge. I hope you are too. Please leave any comments or feedback here or in my asks, and see y'all later!

[cafecourage]

If it’s not too much trouble, may I order some monkey bread with they boys (crushing or dating, dealer’s choice) reacting to Reader randomly running up and hugging them?

- Glitter anon ✨

It’s never too much trouble!

Part 1 has Time, Twilight and Warriors.

Time:

- Time enjoys them. He gets hug by some of the boys already randomly. So he has accepted it at this point. But your hugs are special to him. He wants more of them!

- There will be an unofficial reverse card too where he would hug you randomly if he needs to recharge so to speak.

- If their are in a town Time is on high alert as he expects you to run and jump him. Don’t… do that please…

There are four people in this group that seem to get targeted for random hugs. Time being one of them, to his force acceptance. He didn’t have a choice in the matter. You however, never missed a chance to hug him. It’s slightly random when you do it as mornings are always a toss up. If the chain had a long day of traveling you tend to be more cranky in the morning. As when you wake up and inevitably find him not with you.

“I’ve been abandon.” You mumbled as you draped yourself on Time back, your arms loosely wrapping around his neck. Time did not even blink as he had more weight suddenly on him. Time instead turns to kiss your cheek.

“Good morning my love.” He says instead as he slowly moves you to his side so he could hold you better. Only slightly pulling you away to grab your food for you. He keeps his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb against you to keep you awake but to also give some comfort to you. He really does feel bad pushing you with all this travel. He kisses your forehead one more time as an apology.

Twilight

- 2 of 4 links that just get randomly hugged. Mostly because he is also Wolfie. However Wind and Wild just also likes to run straight at him and tackle him. No matter what.

- You however you like to jump while running at him. He catches you but you are stressing him out! It’s not like before with Time where it’s like cute and adorable, well.. Twilight thinks you are cute and adorable. But he might get gray hairs.

- Other than that he does appreciate the random hugs as he is very much a physical touch person. So no matter what he wants to hug and adore you with kisses.

“You’re lying.” Wild said as he stares at you as your claim made you look a bit crazy. “There is no way that happens!”

“It’s true though!” You were really getting hyped up about this “if I run at twilight he is going to catch me no matter what.”

The champion huffs and crosses his arms before noticing twilight coming into camp with Time as they were gathering firewood. “Ok prove it-.” You were already running before Wild can finished speaking.

“(Y/N) NO IM HOLDING FIRE WOO-“ Twilight tried to stop you but you were already in the air, he drops the wood to catch you not wanting you to get hurt. You looked so smug when you land in his arms. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Please don’t do that again.”

“No <3”

Warriors

- 3 of the 4 most hug links like this man is the other older brother. He isn’t the one that is going to hug person without consent but they are offer and the others know this. Which is why some of them come to him. They get a hug and advice!

- You don’t typically hug him out of no where all the time. It’s normally if you miss him a lot. Which isn’t all that common if you guys are on the road. He is typically always holding you, whether it’s holding your hand or putting his arm around your shoulder.

- It’s when he is home and working. Thats the issue. Even in the middle of this adventure once he is sat at his desk he is there for a while. Which is then when you have to hug him to get your fill from him. Maybe even get him away from his desk.

You knew exactly where Warriors was when you didn’t see him during dinner. The disappointment was clear as you asked one of the staff of the castle to bring two plates to the castle office before you go on a mission. It was a murder walk to his office no one wanted to stop you nor did they question it.

The door swings open maybe a bit too hard, making Warriors jolt in shocked wide eyed and confused. “How long have you been working?” You asked as you stomped over.

“Uhhh…” Warriors doesn’t know if you wanted the answer or not.

Honestly you didn’t know if you wanted that answer ether. “Well food is on its way.” You huffed plopping yourself in his lap wrapping your arms around him “you’re not working any more and thats final.”

[camp-counselor-life]

Top Tips for Staff Training

After six summers participating in staff training plus several more of leading at least one session (go archery - get your level 2 once and you'll train for life), here are my top tips for staff training:

When they're leading songs, games, etc, it's tempting to blow it off, but it can be a ton of fun if you just go with it and put your heart into it. Plus you'll learn more.

Participate fully in sessions. Discuss, draw, write, answer questions, ask questions, however the session is being run.

It's ok to get emotional in tough sessions like bullying, child abuse, or active shooter drills. Take care of yourself.

Try to use staff training to get into the swing of camp - waking up early, community meals, sleeping in cabins/tents.

Get to know as many people as possible. I get being introverted, I am introverted. But the more people you at least introduce yourself to, the better.

It is ok to use icebreaker questions that you would normally use on campers with staff to get to know them. College major is out (not really), favorite dinosaur is in.

If you're asked to lead a game, song, etc, it's a compliment! Pick something you know well and be enthusiastic.

When leading, if you want engagement in the form of answering or asking questions, bribe them. My fave was jolly ranchers, giant bag, then we ate the leftovers during camp.

Good luck to everyone at staff training these next few weeks!

[avenirdelight]

When You’re Not Looking

Mason Mount (ft. Declan Rice)

Mason has a crush on England's photographer. But he feels like she has become distant, never hangs out with him anymore and never takes his photos. Declan says that there's only one way to find out why. [Requested]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MASON!❤️

Mason heard a snort, and that was what stopped him from doing what he was doing. He’d just done a set on the bench press and was about to do one more. He turned his head around and saw a judging Declan approaching.

“What?” He shot Declan, who had snorted at him, a rather sharp look. 

“You’re not gonna give up, are ya, mate? Still trying to get her attention?” Declan mocked. He turned his head towards the basketball court across the gym hall, Mason couldn’t stop himself from doing the same.

She was there with her camera, taking photos of Raheem and Marcus who were having a go at basketball, killing time before they needed to go out on the pitch for training.

“Sorry, but it’s getting embarrassing now,” Declan stated. Mason quickly looked away before Declan could catch him. Mason almost felt embarrassed but he refused to show it and give Declan the satisfaction, so he shook his head instead.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just doing the bench press.”

“You think I won’t notice how you purposely do an extra set that’s completely unnecessary?”

Mason completely ignored his best friend’s question and did what he was going to do: the completely unnecessary extra set of bench press.

“Listen. We don’t know how long this camp is gonna last. It’s not like I’m hoping for us to go out soon, but you know what I mean,” Declan said. Mason could feel Declan boring his eyes into him. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re wasting chances and time. You might not get it again tomorrow.”

Mason might have looked so focused on doing the bench press but he heard everything Declan said. And as much as he wanted to ignore it, he admitted that what his best friend had said was true.

—

They were sitting down at dinner. James and Bukayo had been at the table too, they’d hung out and done some Saka’s Spelling School episodes, something Bukayo had come up with for his TikTok. The two boys had left, leaving the other two who wanted to stay for dessert.

They ate their desserts in silence. Declan was scrolling on his phone, probably reading messages from his family and friends. Mason took the opportunity to secretly glance over and over again at her, who was sitting at the table near the TV. Their tables were separated by a water fountain and plants, so he hoped that she wouldn’t catch him staring at her.

Mason had grown a crush on her—a fairly huge crush, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He forgot how or when it started. She’d been a photographer for the England team for almost a year. At some point he’d just started thinking that she was pretty, fun to be with, and he’d started to pay more attention to her. Some of the boys liked to tease her and joke around with her, and Mason always found it incredibly cute when she became shy or when she let out some cute giggles.

The problem was, lately he’d realised that she’d been strangely distant. She was always taking photos of another group, always at the other side of the room or the pitch, she was never near him. She never came to hang out anymore, at least not when he was there. At first he’d thought that it was just coincidence, but the more he paid attention, the more he was sure that she was avoiding him.

“Do you think I’d done something wrong?” Mason broke the silence. “Do you think she’s mad at me or something? Or maybe she just doesn’t like me.” The second question caught Declan’s attention and he looked up at gloomy-looking Mason.

“Listen, mate. You know I only have one answer and advice, for you, yeah?”

“‘There’s only one way to find out?’”

“Exactly.”

Mason glanced at her again and she was laughing with the other staff. His heart skipped a beat because she looked pretty with that smile on her face.

“Last week I found her alone here, editing some photos. I stopped for a moment and tried to make a conversation. She looked… Uncomfortable. Am I the problem?”

“There’s only one way to find out, Mase.”

Mason sighed and dropped his gaze to his now unappealing dessert, spinning his spoon randomly on the bowl. It seemed like Declan was also tired with indecisiveness, considering that they’d had this kind of conversation a few times before. Declan decided to get back on his phone and leave Mason alone with his troubled thoughts.

Maybe Declan was right again, that there was only one way to find out.

—

Mason decided to wake up early today. He’d seriously been paying attention, so he knew that usually, her breakfast plate would already be empty by the time he arrived at the hotel’s restaurant. He was determined to catch her, maybe have breakfast together, and ask her about the thing that had been bothering his mind.

As he predicted, she was already there, occupying the table in the corner of the room. There was barely anyone there, it definitely seemed like the perfect moment for Mason to execute his plan. He could immediately feel his nervousness building up as he picked up a plate and filled it with his usual choice of breakfast.

When she noticed him approaching her table, Mason could swear she almost choked on the water she was drinking. He greeted her with a cheerful “good morning” and she replied with the same tone.

“Why are you always here so early?”

She gave him a shy grin. “I need uh– My morning solitude. Need to uhh, compose myself first thing in the morning before facing the day.”

“May I sit here? If that doesn’t ruin your morning solitude.”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “Take a seat. Please.”

Mason took the empty seat in her diagonal as he figured it would be too awkward if he sat right in front of her. His heart was starting to race, but he reminded himself to keep himself calm. Last night he had made a plan since he absolutely didn’t want to scare her or anything. He’d thought about starting with a question about work.

“So… Busy day today?”

“Not really. Just the usual.” 

“I heard Beckham is coming to training today.” 

“Ah… Yeah. I think I’m gonna be assigned for him.”

“Have you met him before?”

“No, I haven’t,” she slightly shook her head before continuing to eat. Mason eyed his messy plate and started eating too.

The silence took over sooner than Mason had anticipated. Last time they’d interacted, it wasn’t as awkward. Maybe it was the setting that made it feel this way, the freaking solitude, but Mason knew that he couldn’t let the silence really settle in and make it more awkward so he needed to try to carry on.

“So… Being a photographer for England. Do you enjoy it?”

She slightly raised her eyebrows before nodding. “Yeah, of course. I love photography, I like football… And with England it’s always an amazing experience. I mean, we’re at the World Cup now. It’s insane.”

“Couldn’t agree more. And I feel like this is a very special group of people we’re working with…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Everyone’s so, uhh…” She looked away quickly. “So nice and lovely.”

Mason’s heart dropped. She didn’t even want to look at him when she said it. Wasn’t he nice and lovely too?

Then there was silence again. There were only sounds of the hotel staff talking, the sounds from the little cooking stations in the room, and their utensils against the plates. It wasn’t going smoothly at all and he really couldn’t stand this awkwardness. 

“Hey, may I ask you a question?” Mason said before he couldn’t even stop himself. He paused and silently took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was coming. She was eating so she just simply nodded and shrugged. “Sorry, I absolutely don’t mean to offend you. I’m just asking because I just want to know– Uhh, I’ve been wondering if I’ve done something wrong. To you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, not getting his statement and question.

“Lately, I’ve realised that… You never take photos of me. And… I don’t know, it just feels like it’s become so awkward and kind of weird between us.”

“What?” Her voice barely came out as a whisper. Her face was blank, Mason couldn’t read her; well, maybe he actually could but he was panicking.

“Well, maybe it’s just me but– It has kind of made me wonder what’s wrong, or like I said, if I’ve done something wrong. We used to hang out, talk, and then we didn’t.” The disappointment was clear in his voice. “You… You’ve become so distant.”

“Have I?”

“That’s how I feel. I mean, we barely interact anymore.”

“And that’s… A problem for you?”

Mason shrugged. “Yeah, kind of…”

She dropped her gaze and took her glass, drinking her water, leaving Mason’s questions unanswered. It had gotten from awkward to super awkward. Mason was starting to regret it and he realised he should’ve just brought up other things. The last win, the weather, the cats, so many things to talk about, but he couldn’t stop himself from jumping on the topic right away.

“Sorry, this must be confusing to you. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, it’s okay, I mean, I’m sorry– I didn’t know you feel that way,” she said. “So, uhh, you’re bothered that we’re not hanging out? May I ask why?”

“‘Cause I like hanging out with you. And it’s always a pleasure when we get to work together. You’re a nice and lovely person,” he said. You could easily tell that he was being sincere.

“Oh…”

They both fell silent again. Mason took a sip of his tea, hoping it would help to calm himself down but unfortunately he only got more and more nervous with each passing second. He had no idea of what she was thinking or what she was going to say. Maybe this was a mistake after all—Mason quickly thought of a way out of this because it started to feel so uncomfortable even for him.

Just when he was about to open his mouth, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Good morning, mate.” It was Madders. The lad then greeted her too—which she quickly replied—before turning to him again. “You’re early today.”

“You are early today.” Madders wasn’t an early morning person to his knowledge. Why would he be here now interrupting such a critical moment?

Madders sighed and shook his head. “Kennedy called, said Leo woke up and spent an hour crying, wouldn’t stop asking for me. So she had to call, and…”

Mason couldn’t hear anything Madders said; it went in one ear and out the other. He glanced at her, who was now paying attention to Madders, but still got hints of shock and confusion in her face. Mason felt his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach.

—

The sombre atmosphere could be felt around the hotel. Once they’d gotten back to the hotel from the stadium after England’s loss to France, they’d all gone straight to their rooms and locked themselves there.

It was a tough loss, a tough exit from the World Cup—it was definitely going to take a while to get over this one. They were supposed to win this all. They were supposed to lift a trophy after failing to do so last year in Euro’s final. It was not supposed to go like this. He was supposed to get more game time, play better, score his world cup goals, make his family even prouder…

Mason started to feel like it was suffocating being in his room, he started to feel like he was trapped since there was only him and his distressing thoughts. So Mason came out of his room and his feet brought him to the basketball court. No one was there, everyone was probably packing up because they were going to leave in the morning.

“It’s very late, Mason, why are you out here?”

The ball had just bounced off the ring and Mason turned around on his heels. She was walking closer, a camera bag hanging on her shoulder.

“I needed some air,” he said as he went to pick up the ball. He dribbled it as he got back to his position, shifting his gaze between the ball and her. “What are you doing?”

“Just picked this up from Paul’s room,” she said, patting her camera bag.

“You guys must have loads to pack.” Mason turned around and took another shot. The ball hit the ring again before it bounced loudly on the ground.

“Yeah… But we’ve been pretty organised, so it’s not hard to pack everything up again.” She walked closer to the wall and Mason noticed her putting her camera bag down as she stood against the wall. She tightened her jacket around her as the chilly breeze blew. “Although we believe we’ve lost a GoPro. Paul’s misplaced it. Thank God he’d removed the memory card.”

“Yeah?” Mason slightly raised his eyebrows at her before quickly looking away. He took another shot and it didn’t go in again. He shook his head, lazily picked up the ball, and just dribbled it aimlessly. He’d been missing all the shots, he didn’t want to embarrass himself even more in front of her.

She’d fallen silent and Mason didn’t dare to look up because he could feel her eyes boring at him. He might find a look of disappointment on her face, or worse, pity—he absolutely didn’t want that. He was feeling like such a big failure already; knowing that he’d failed people he cared about would only make him feel worse.

“Hey, Mase?” She said, but Mason didn’t respond. He did a layup instead; it finally went in. “I know you’re upset but… Don’t get upset for too long, okay?” Her voice sounded so soft. So gentle. “We’re all gutted but you guys have to be proud. You guys put up a good fight, it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Mason let out a heavy sigh as he shook his head, still dribbling. “We kept saying that this is gonna be our time, you know? It honestly felt like it. And I just wished that I could help the team a bit more.”

“Our time will come. Your time will come,” she said, and Mason could tell that she was smiling when she said it. “You still have a long way ahead. And this special squad is only gonna go far, I know it.” She sounded so reassuring, Mason couldn’t help but to look up at her. There was no sign of disappointment or pity on her face; he could only see her subtle smile and kind eyes.

“Thank you,” Mason muttered, offering her his best smile. She nodded and her smile grew bigger. Mason wished he could tell her how pretty her smile looked, or how warm his heart felt right now.

This was their least awkward interaction after what felt like such a long time, quite the opposite from their last. She looked rather relaxed too. Mason was curious more than ever about what had actually happened, why she’d become distant and all that. He’d thought about asking her again but this was a nice moment they were sharing and he didn’t want to ruin it. Maybe he should just forget about everything, he shouldn’t have made it a big deal, maybe she’d been just—

“I do take photos of you, Mason,” she said.. “Just when you’re not looking.”

Mason was about to do another layup. But he stopped on his tracks, he almost stumbled on his own feet. He quickly turned and searched for her face.

“What?”

The chilly breeze blew again and she folded her arms. “Last time you asked why I never take photos of you,” she tried to remind him, even though there was absolutely no need for that because Mason obviously remembered. “Well, I do actually take your photos. Just when you’re not looking and… From far away.”

Mason gulped. “Why?”

“Because I’m just shy and embarrassed? Okay– This will sound so silly,” she chortled. “But you’re my football crush. I’ve been a fan since you made your first England debut. And it’s just weird for me to suddenly… Work with you. It still feels weird even after almost a year.”

Mason gripped the ball on his hands; the tips of his fingers almost turned white. He clenched his jaw as he tried to process her words, his heart started pounding hard in his chest. “So… You have a crush on me?”

She scrunched up her face cutely. “Do you really have to say it out loud? God, it feels so… Embarrassing.”

Mason chuckled. “I’m just trying to get confirmation here.”

She sighed. “I have a Chelsea shirt with your number and name, how about that?”

Mason his stomach flipping and he couldn’t help but to chuckle again out of relief and nervousness. An image flashed on his mind, of her wearing his club shirt with his name on it, and it made his heart flutter.

“Okay, okay,” he said as he approached her, with a huge silly smile on his face. “That’s wonderful, that’s… Wow. It’s actually very good to know that.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I mean, you must have noticed that I’ve been trying to get your attention, then? Throughout the whole camp?”

She shrugged. A blush was visible on her cheeks. “Of course I do. I’m a girl, a quite sensible one, I always know what’s happening.”

Mason shook his head in disbelief. He threw the ball away and took a few more small steps towards her. “For weeks I’d been thinking that I'd done something wrong.”

“Sorry for making you worry, I really didn’t mean too…”

“Yeah. And it turns out you knew all along that I fancy you.”

Her eyes widened. “You fancy me?”

“You literally just said you’re quite a sensible one.” Mason furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would I try so hard to get your attention if I didn’t. Do you fancy me? Am I a real crush or just a football crush?”

She pursed her lips as she stared at him for a while. Mason was honestly stunned because he’d never seen her looking at him like this before. She was admiring him, taking her time to take him in.

“A real one,” she finally said, her voice just above a whisper.

Mason was washed with the biggest wave of relief—he let out a long sigh, letting out everything he’d been holding in. He’d actually forgotten that he’d been upset because of their loss tonight. This surely mended his broken heart a little and made everything feel less down.

“Well, okay. This is nice,” he commented. He didn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t. “Did you know I always use all my chances to look at you? When you’re not looking.”

“I guess I did.” She shrugged. Mason grinned and she giggled.

“Hey, do you know what?” His eyes lit up, sparking a curiosity on her and it was shown by the way her eyebrows lifted up. Mason quickly got the ball that had rolled away. “I’ll do a shot and if it goes in, I get to take you on a date.”

“What if it doesn’t go in?”

“It will, I promise.”

“Go on, then.”

Mason got in position and dribbled the ball. It was at that moment that he realised that his hands were slightly trembling and this was probably stupid, but he didn’t care. She was finally looking at him from up close—he still wanted to impress her. More than ever.

After taking a deep breath and wished for the best, he confidently threw the ball in.

—

i thank you so much if you reach this point because this is a loooooong one! it took me a month to finish this one:') i kept getting stuck but today i suddenly got inspired and was able to finish it! i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs, likes, and comments are always very appreciated!<3

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[mason mount tag list: @smileytaa @luvelyxp @mountchilly @lfcthelovesofmylife @chicken-fifi @muglermami @landosmilkjug]

My Masterlist🤍

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 753.5: Hayatani-san wants to help

Pag 1

1: Inside Sohoku High School, there is a school store

Nyarun!! Everyone, how are you!? I'm Hayatani Yuuko (24)!!

(“Nyarun” is a greeting)

2: I run the school store, and I'm kind of an idol among students

Uhm, if you'd like, please read this

3: Apart from my job, I also give love advice to school girls

And I receive a lot of love-letters from school boys

4: Uhm.... how about a meal together next time?

And also the staff members approached me a lot!

Every day is so busy!

Pag 2

1: Or well, there was a time like that too....

Current Hayatani Yuuko (44)

2: Lately my fingers have gotten a little round

3: They're cute anyway, even round!

Alright! It's time to take the bread for lunch, let's go

5: That day, I saw something that I shouldn't have seen

Unexpectedly, it was happening in the shadow of the school building

6: That's.... I can't be wrong

Pag 3

1: An appalling scene of bullying!!

2: That tall guy is threatening that boy with glasses!! That must be a “crime scene”; I can't be mistaken

Ah!! Looking better at that boy with glasses... it's the boy who sometimes comes to buy bread with Naruko-kun from the bicycle club!

Pag 4

1: What should I do!!

Call someone!? But if while I do that, the boy with glasses gets hit....

2: The color of that tall boy's shoes... he's a second year!?

But despite his appearance, the boy with glasses is a third year

3: A second year is bullying a third year!? What kind of guy

4: Ahh, the more I look at him the scarier he looks!!

With those eyes wide, and his mouth open so much it shows his gums, he looks like a wild beast whose shackles came off!!

5: The boy with glasses looks so scared, but he's desperately enduring it!! He's looking down!!

“Hand me your money”

6: “Come on, hand me your money”, he's surely saying that!!

Pag 5

1: If I don't help him soon-!!

Do your best, Yuuko, summon your courage!!

2: Ple...ease.... sto....p

3: Ahh, but that's a little.... scary

Would I get hit? I'd get hit, and it would definitely hurt, it would deeefinitely hurt!

4: For- for now I'll assess the situation.... let's prick up my ears and listen!!

5: …. please

… please!!

He's speaking formally!? He's bullying him while speaking formally!?

6: …..I don't, please!!

What's with that scary face!!

7: I don't

I don't

Money!!

I don't have my own money, he's saying!! What a boy!!

Pag 6

1: I have no..... self-confidence.....

2: Even though I was chosen as a member

Pag 7

1: Self-confidence1?

Member...? What?

2: It's alright

Because, Danchiku-kun, you ran in that harsh training camp

3: and you defeated Sugimoto-kun!!

5: Kuaaaaa

Sugimoto-san!!

6: ….yes

7: Yes!!

Pag 8

1: It's alright, since it's you, Danchiku-kun, you'll do great

3: Ye.... yes!!

4: It's here!! That boy's killer strong smile!!

With that, that boy can capture people heart

5: I found courage!! Thank you so much!!

Yeah... well...

He bowed his head...!!

6: Did he tame the wild beast!?

This was Hayatani-san, who still doesn't know Onoda-kun's name but now deepened her understanding of him

[foxbirdy]

Hello! As a recent grad whose thinking of doing am Americorp or conservation crew year (I'm safe this year tho) would you recommend it? I've done some seasons in parks and have heard um varying experiences. I would like to learn how to do manual labor and backcountry camp tho so. How is working in the heat?

The answer I can give you is that I absolutely recommend it, with the caveat that a) It Will Probably Be Challenging and b) try to do some asking around before you select a program! There's profound variability in how well different corps programs support & provide for their field staff, and the intensity of what they demand. I've had many of my most valuable experiences doing corps work that are absolutely treasured to me, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I've also had many of my most scary & painful experiences doing corps work, and I have stress dreams about them just about every week of the season. What can you do, etc etc. Choosing a program that matches the level of energy & commitment that you are willing to give -- whether that's a hitch schedule, urban community crews, backcountry mule packing, wildland fire, camping trail crews, on and on to infinity -- is the best advice I can give!

As for working in the heat -- your body will acclimate to the summer temperatures, but there's only so much your body can compensate for. Finding workarounds (starting in the dark, strategic breaking, working close to water sources when possible) helps, & so does respecting the limits of your body before you put yourself in crisis.

[ash5monster01]

Getaway Camp : Thirteen

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: language, angst, minor depression, hurt/no comfort, mentions of past trauma, coping mechanisms

Summary: Charlie spends his day feeling lost, unsure how to cope with the new information he has been given. While Valerie struggles to come to terms with her own feelings as well.

word count: 3.1k

Masterlist

Twelve ←→ Fourteen

July 21st 1961

For the first time since Charlie had been at camp, he finally experienced his first bad week. The air at staff camp was tense, almost like everyone knew something was wrong. He had seen Valerie in passing but he still wasn’t ready to talk to her. She tried but Charlie hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at her without picturing her with Levi. It surprised him how hurt he was by all of this, especially since he once thought loving one girl would never be for him.

Now he had the day off of camp and no one to spend it with. Even Andy who was off with Alice and the rest of Valerie’s friends. That’s when it hit him that he had surrounded his time here around Valerie. Without her, he was still just the random guy who showed up one summer. So now on the gorgeous day, he sat alone in his bed, wondering when he became someone who relied so heavily on others. Especially after all he had been through. It just didn’t make sense.

When the coast is clear he finds himself sneaking out, avoiding anyone who did dare to talk to him. In this moment he wanted Neil more than anyone. To confide in him, hug him when he admits his defeat. His best friend, the one guy who would never judge him no matter how stupid he could be. Neil would love him anyway, probably offer advice Charlie didn’t want to hear but took anyway. It was this thought that made him miss his best friend so deeply, realizing all over again he will never get that back. For the rest of his life he’ll never get to share it with Neil. Never even get to tell him about the first girl he fell in love with me how she broke his heart.

Ducking into the boat house, Charlie finds himself drifting out in one of the single rower boats. He needed the distraction, the strain on his muscles, and the repetitive action to ground him in place. It was the only way his thoughts would still and he was guaranteed to be completely alone. It was another warm day, one he should’ve spent with Valerie, and instead she was probably with Levi. This angry thought fueled him to row harder and faster with no destination in mind.

“Charlie!” turning his head he spots the girl of his thoughts at the end of the dock, Levi and Mia stood behind her. Charlie clenches his jaw, turning away as he continues to row, desperately trying to ignore the splash that followed the call of his name.

“Charlie, stop!” the familiar voice calls again, and he wants to keep going, but the girl didn’t even remove her shirt when jumping in. She’s clearly fighting the water and no matter how strong a swimmer she was, he couldn’t live with himself if she drowned out here chasing after him.

“I’m not looking to talk Valerie” he tells her stiffly, doing his best not to look at her as she paddles to the side of the boat. She sighs heavily, fingers curling over the edge.

“Please, you have to let me explain” but Charlie doesn’t get a chance to respond because she’s trying to lift herself in the boat, the single person floatation device wobbling under her weight.

“Woah Val, we’re gonna tip” he tells her, hands reaching out to stop her, but she doesn’t. She fights it, the boat tipping further and further to the edge of the water. When Charlie leans too far to steady her movements his weight gives the final push and the boat sucks in the surface water and throws him in her direction.

“Damnit Valerie!” he says, splashing above the water, now soaked in his own clothes. She gives him a sheepish look, feeling awful for dumping him in the water, but at least he was finally looking at her.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know how else to get your attention” she pants, pushing her hair back off her face, and Charlie tries to not eye the see through fabric of her white t-shirt.

“Well you got it” he scoffs, swimming to the boat and trying to determine how to flip it back over. Valerie follows, still needing to talk.

“You have to let me explain Charlie, it’s not what you think” she says and Charlie finally stops his movements, turning to look at her with an anger that isn’t entirely directed at her.

“Isn’t it though? Even if you haven’t been with him while you were with me, I feel used. You told me you’ve never cared for anyone before. I feel like a pawn in a game I never asked to be apart of. Especially because I had real feelings for you” he seethes and Valerie tries to soak in his words, blinking and a bit surprised as the boy dips under water and into the air pocket under the boat. An escape while she tries to comprehend his words.

“Had?” she asks no one in particular, stuck on the past tense part of his sentence. When it finally catches up with her she ducks under the boat herself, ignoring the roll of his eyes when he spots her. Now angry with him.

“You think I don’t have real feelings for you to? It’s fucking terrifying Charlie, I’ve never felt like this before. I have no idea what to do especially when you won’t even talk to me” she says, grabbing his arm and using the water to drift him towards her. Her voice sounds weird in the muffled air around them but she doesn’t care. She keeps her grip on him tight and eyes pointed in his direction.

“And what about me?” he whispers, face close to her own and something flashes across Valerie’s eyes. Like she never even considered why he was as upset as he was. “I promised myself I’d never get close enough to someone to be hurt again and look where that got me”

“I’m right here Charlie, I’m trying” she begs, voice wavering as she tries to understand the boy who was still a mystery. She had learned so much and yet nothing at all about him. She wishes she would’ve tried harder.

“Just leave me alone Valerie. Let me comprehend it first” he counters with her and Valerie drops her head, loosening her grip against him. What she doesn’t expect is Charlie’s fingers lifting her chin and bringing her eye line back to his own. A look she doesn’t recognize on his face.

Shaking his head at her, he goes against his better judgment and pulls her into a kiss. He’s not quite sure if it’s goodbye or a see you later, but he does his best to get her out of his system for now. Kissing her like his life depends on it and trying to ignore how good she tastes. Yet every kiss with Valerie leaves him wanting more. His hand is curled around the back of her neck and in her damp hair, she wishes he would stay there forever. Yet once she’s surely dizzy from his kiss, he lets go. Without any words they share one last look before shoving the boat above their heads and back up right.

“Will you make it back to the dock okay?” Charlie asks, eyes not meeting her own once again and Valerie sighs, treading slowly in the water.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine” she mutters, starting to swim back to where both Levi and Mia have waited for her. Charlie carefully lifts himself into the boat, water now filling the bottom from their little accident. He doesn’t look at any of them as he grabs the paddles and continues to row away. Already trying to forget what had just happened.

When he reaches camp he goes back to his cabin, passing Valerie’s just to see her own wet clothes draped over the railing of her porch. He changes and does the same before leaving all over again, not wanting to risk looking her in the eye again. He finds himself at the main lodge, eyeing the telephone booth that daunts him to call home. Use his Moms weepy hello’s as a distraction from the real thing that’s bothering him. Hear his father scold him or undermine him just with the hope he may finally say something nice. It isn’t worth it, it never was. That’s why he decided to call someone else.

“Overstreet residence” a woman’s voice fills the phone. Charlie is sure it’s Mrs. Overstreet but he doesn’t care to ask, he has only one mission in mind.

“Is Knox in?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as desperate and sad as he thinks it does. He doesn’t need anymore pity.

“Let me find him” she says, followed by the clunk of her more than likely setting the phone down on the table. It’s not long until the rustle of it being picked back up fills Charlie’s ears.

“Knox Overstreet” his familiar friend says and Charlie can’t help the first real smile that cracks across his face as he hears this. No matter how sad he is.

“Hey Knoxie” Charlie says, and he wishes he could see his old friend. The way his shoulders probably loosen as he relaxes into the familiarity of it all. The recognition of hearing his voice.

“Charles, what a surprise” he says, his voice giving away the smile his friend wears. It’s crazy how easily he can still picture him.

“I know, I just wanted to reach out” even though it isn’t the truth. Charlie always wants to reach out but he also doesn’t want to be an inconvenience. Letters were more common than calls and even then he felt like a burden. Some pen pal they never asked for after he got kicked out of school.

“I’m so glad, it’s been too long. I wanna hear about all those Charlie Dalton adventures” and Charlie chuckles because he would love to tell him. Explain how he taught a rowing class each morning, discovered five different ways to get drunk at a party, learned games like beer pong, dirty danced, got a blow job next to a waterfall, and didn’t embarrass himself too bad water skiing. Yet none of it matters, now that it all blew up in his face.

“Not much of an adventure as you would think. A lot more working involved” Charlie tells him and Knox chuckles on the other end of the call. Unable to picture his old friend working.

“You’re Charlie, the most daring guy I know. You’ve probably climbed mountains and singlehandedly put out forest fires” and for a moment Charlie’s heart grows, the love for his friend expanding because of how much he believed in him. No matter how bad Charlie messed up his friends always saw the good.

“I wish that was the case, and instead I fell in love with a girl. Quite the adventurer” Charlie mutters, leaning against the phone booth and looking out to the bustle of people going about their camp day.

“Sounds like one to me. Especially since I figured you to use the opportunity to go through every girl at camp” Knox says and Charlie doesn’t even take offense because he knows it to be true. He was a ladies man, a lot like Nate, but what made him different was his ability to care. After all of this he learned he might actually care a little too much.

“I probably should have, considering I learned Valerie has hooked up with one of her friends. It’s almost funny how I could fall for a girl and get hurt by her doing something the old me would have done” Knox is silent as he takes what Charlie said into account. He realizes this was the reason for his call. A cry for help in a world so big and lonely. Comfort from his friend. Even if Charlie wouldn’t say it.

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice hushed from the way the words come out. Charlie shrugs even though the boy can’t see him, trying to keep his betrayal tears at bay.

“Heard if from the guy himself, in front of half our friend group might I add. She didn’t deny it either. The funny thing is I’m not even sure that’s what I’m sad about. I’m more disappointed in myself that I ever put myself in a position to get left by somebody I loved again” Charlie tells him and Knox’s face falls, wishing he was there for his friend who clearly still struggled. Experiencing loss so young had affected all of them but Charlie was Neil’s best friend. Then he was left to grieve all on his own.

“Charlie I’m so-“ but Charlie doesn’t give him a chance to apologize for something that isn’t his fault. In fact everything had been his fault. He should’ve never let Keating stop him from chasing Neil the day of the play. He should’ve never punched Cameron and get kicked out of school. He should’ve never let Valerie get close. So many times he ignored his gut instinct.

“It’s okay Knox. If I cried over every girl I came in contact with there’d be no more tears. I really didn’t mean to burden you with my problems” he tells him, regretting the call and wishing he had chosen his parents instead. At least the disappointment in their voices would’ve distracted him more.

“It’s okay to feel this way Charlie. I should’ve realized sooner how alone you must’ve felt” Knox says earnestly and Charlie freezes next to the receiver. Knox had seen through him so clearly and as much as he hated it, it made him miss his friends more.

“I’ll be okay Knox, I always have been” he tells him and Knox sighs, wishing there was something more he could do or say.

“You don’t have to be” is the last thing Knox tells him before Charlie hangs up the phone. He looks around, wondering if anyone else here can sense how sad he is. How broken and lost he had been for the last year and a half. Possibly for his entire life. Yet no one even looks his way and Charlie realizes he was maybe not as special as he once thought he was. As much as he tried to fight it he was just another preparatory school boy set off into the world to do what he had been trained his whole life to do.

“Hey man” Andy mutters when Charlie steps back into the cabin now with his dry clothes. Charlie nods his head in his direction, dropping the pile to the ground as he saunters to his bed.

“Hey” is all Charlie gives him as he lays against the sheets and wishes the entire world would swallow him whole. Andy offers a sad smile, feeling partially at fault for how his friend feels. He had been the one to tell him these things and put so many doubts in his head just to find they had been true. He set him up for defeat when in reality he was secretly rooting for him the whole time. It was nice to see Valerie so happy and even better watching his roommate come out of his shell.

“You have a good day?” Andy asks and Charlie thinks over all his pity party moments, the internal embarrassment, and wishing he drowned in that lake earlier.

“No” is all he says before pulling the blanket up and over his head and Andy pouts, turning to stare at the ceiling because he’s sure there is nothing he could say that would make his friend feel better.

“Goodnight” he tells him and the only answer he gets is Charlie shifting in the bed. Turning away and wallowing in self pity or maybe just sadness that had always been burrowed within him. It finally rising to the surface after spending so long suppressing it.

Yet for Valerie she’s experiencing that sadness for the first time, unsure what to with herself, staring at the campfire in front of her like it may provide an answer to all her problems. Levi sits across, watching her and unsure how to comfort his friend during this time and not be a problem. He has never seen her so happy, it wasn’t fair that it was his own actions that took this from her. Especially since he was the one who wanted it the most.

“It’ll be okay” he tells her in the quiet night air, fireflies flashing out in the trees surrounding them. Valerie pulls her blanket tighter, trying to ignore the fact that the two cabins behind her hold two people she had severely hurt.

“And if I don’t believe you?” she asks and Levi sighs, picking at the bark of the log he sits on, not knowing what else to tell her.

“You don’t have to believe me, you just have to trust me. Charlie will come to his senses, and Chrissy-” he’s not sure what to say, because he also didn’t understand the female relationship. Yet they both became pretty aware that what had happened was wrong. Especially when everyone knew how Chrissy had felt.

“Chrissy will never talk to me again” and it upsets her more than she ever thought it would. Perky blonde Chrissy who had annoyed her every summer. The very girl she rolled her eyes at when she saw her cabin assignment this year. Yet here she was, feeling like she lost something she never really understood.

“Things will change, time will pass, one day it’ll just be a story from summer camp” Levi counters but Valerie feels tears rim her eyes, the truth of his sentence hitting her in a way he didn’t intend.

“Then why does it feel like so much more?” she asks, voice wavering with her tears. She wanted it to be more. She needed it to be more. This was supposed to be her summer, the one she got to live without returning to a school where everyone judged her. She was free, excited for the future, and now it felt like everything she was excited for she had lost. The small promised amount of time with Charlie was gone and after camp season was over she was going to be alone in the real world. No Levi, no brothers, no Charlie, and she wasn’t ready to face it just yet.

“It’ll be okay” Levi reassures, knowing he was repeating himself, but wanting her to know it was still just as true. So she nods, letting the words wash over her, and trying not to let the panic seep in.

“I’ll be okay”

A/N: The canoe thing was inspired by Gale’s other film The Finest Hour, I always found the kiss to be so intimate. It also reminded me so much of my childhood and growing up on a lake. We would always flip the canoe and go under to tell each other our secrets. I wanted the same for Charlie and Valerie <3

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