#home made golden syrup

[luckystorein22]

Are there gourmet cuisine dishes prepared with maple syrup?

Maple syrup is a delightful natural sweetener that adds a unique touch to various dishes. Its rich, complex flavor profile and versatility make it a popular choice for both sweet and savory creations. In this article, we'll dive into the world of gourmet cuisine and discover some delectable dishes that feature maple syrup as a star ingredient.

1. Maple-Glazed Salmon:

Indulge your taste buds with a succulent maple-glazed salmon dish. The combination of the delicate, flaky fish and the sweet yet slightly smoky glaze creates a harmonious blend of flavors. The maple syrup caramelizes beautifully, enhancing the salmon's natural richness. Serve it alongside roasted vegetables for a satisfying and healthy meal.

2. Maple-Balsamic Roasted Brussels Sprouts:

Elevate humble Brussels sprouts to gourmet status with a maple-balsamic glaze. The sweetness of maple syrup balances the slight bitterness of the sprouts, while the balsamic vinegar adds a tangy twist. Roast them to perfection for a side dish that will impress even the most discerning palates.

3. Maple-Glazed Pork Tenderloin:

For a hearty main course, try a maple-glazed pork tenderloin. The maple syrup forms a luscious caramelized coating on the succulent meat, creating a sweet and savory masterpiece. The flavors meld together beautifully, making this dish a true crowd-pleaser. Serve it alongside roasted potatoes or a crisp salad for a well-rounded meal.

4. Maple-Pecan French Toast:

Indulge in a decadent breakfast or brunch treat with maple-pecan French toast. Dip thick slices of bread in a mixture of beaten eggs, milk, and a generous drizzle of maple syrup, then pan-fry until golden brown. Top it off with toasted pecans and an extra drizzle of syrup for a delightful morning delight that will make your taste buds sing.

5. Maple-Glazed Carrots with Thyme:

Enhance the natural sweetness of carrots with a maple-thyme glaze. This elegant side dish features tender carrots roasted to perfection with a touch of maple syrup and aromatic thyme. The result is a medley of flavors that will add a vibrant touch to any meal.

Conclusion:

Maple syrup offers a world of culinary possibilities, taking gourmet cuisine to new heights. From savory main courses to sweet delights, its distinct flavor and natural sweetness add depth and character to dishes. So, the next time you're looking to impress your guests or simply treat yourself, consider incorporating maple syrup into your cooking. Explore the versatility of this delightful ingredient and let your taste buds embark on a sweet and savory journey like no other.

[nikkento-writes]

Nanami is slowly sipping on his coffee at the dining table when you return home with the coveted box in your hands. You offered to pick up breakfast earlier this morning, promising to grab something extra special today, which you did. With a satisfied grin on your face, you display the box in front of him, waiting for his response. He glances at it, narrowing his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out what exactly he’s looking at. When he realizes what it is, his shoulders slump, giving you a disapproving look. “You didn’t.” 

You continue to smile at him. “I did.”

It’s a simple design of crudely doodled croissants with the words Petite Céréale scrawled across it. You heard about this online. Each piece is handmade the morning of, baked and buttered to perfection. Then, they’re dipped in a simple syrup, coated with cinnamon sugar, and lastly dehydrated. Because of this arduous process, it’s understandably the most expensive cereal in the world. And when you heard your local bakery would be making their own version of it, you knew you had to be one of the first to get your hands on it.

“How much?” His tone wavers on serious and amused, disappointed you’d give in to these silly viral food trends but simultaneously impressed by your tenacity to actually go through with it. 

You ignore his question, pointing at the box like one of those game show hosts presenting the grand prize. “Mini croissant cereal,” you say, hoping he’ll drop it. 

“Honey.”

“Mini. Croissant. Cereal,” you repeat with emphasis, beaming at him. “Just try it, Kento. If you absolutely hate it, then you can scold me later. But I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I doubt it.” You can tell he’s remembering the last viral food you made him try, a ridiculously priced chocolate bar famous from Dubai. While it was good, he couldn’t justify the price you spent on them. For some reason, though, you’re confident in this one. 

You scoff at his pretend grumpy attitude as you rummage through your kitchen to retrieve a bowl, cold milk, and two spoons, one for you and one for him. Ready and excited, you sit next to him, opening the box carefully. His lips twitch, hiding a grin as he watches you, oohing and aahing over the outrageously expensive cereal. But even he can admit that the tiny golden croissants are impressive as you pull them out of the box. He lets out a soft, “Wow,” as your eyes sparkle, marveling at the miniature pastries. 

When you open the packaging, the overwhelming aroma of freshly baked bread and butter instantly fills your nostrils. As you pour a decent amount into the bowl, the crisp of the dough taps against the ceramic, making a delightful sound. You both look down at it, inspecting it thoroughly for any imperfections; there’s none. 

Nanami does the honors and splashes milk over it, making sure not to put too much to prevent it from getting soggy. Together, you dig in, doing a cute little cheers before taking a bite. 

It’s heavenly, like nothing you’ve ever had before, especially from a cardboard cereal box. It has the perfect texture; crispy on the outsides, but as soon as you bite in, it’s flaky and crumbly, like how a flawless croissant should be. Even with the sugar coating, it’s not too sweet. And paired with the milk, it’s the perfect combination. Absolutely divine.  

You’re enjoying the moment too much before you finally realize how unusually quiet Nanami is being. By this time, he’d click his tongue at you and tell you how he doesn’t like it or how it isn’t worth the money. But to your delight and surprise, there’s a very special expression on his face: bliss. 

You wait until he finishes chewing to nudge him softly, “Well?”

He breaks out of his reverie to clear a pretend scratch in his throat. Unconvincingly, he replies, “It’s okay.”

You smile, satisfied with his response, eating the rest of the croissant cereal together in peace. 

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

Sweet

one shot

1.5k / joel miller x f!reader / minors dni

summary: summertime saturday bliss with joel. Inspired by ‘Sweet’ by Cigarettes After Sex

warnings: fluff, dad!joel, boyfriend!joel, no specific description of reader, no outbreak, age gap (reader is mid20s& joel is early to mid 40s), just a whole lotta loving. 

Main Masterlist 🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️

You were never fond of sharing a bed with anyone. As a child, you hated sleepovers and always wanted to be asleep early. As a teenager, you had a scrupulous night routine which carried on into your life now. Skincare, meditation, reading and sleep no later than 10pm. You were a light sleeper too, the slightest twitch, distant car alarm or whistle of wind would startle you.

That soon changed after you met Joel and you stayed the first night with him. He was double your size and he made sure to hold you all night. He was a deadweight and didn’t disturb you in the slightest. After the first night with him, the loss of his arms draped over you was huge and you could no longer sleep easily without him next to you.

Joel always slept in later than you, and would only wake after you did, to you either stifling a laugh to some stupid cat video, or vigorously writing down your manifestations and goals for the day. He didn’t mind. Your face first thing in the morning was a sight he’d want to cherish for the rest of his life.

‘Morning darl’ he drawled through a squint. 

‘Sleep well?’ You rolled over to face him, and he cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss.

‘Better than ever,’ Joel rubbed his eyes and scooped your hair off over your should and behind your neck. ‘Coffee?’

🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️

You both moseyed downstairs and opened all the doors and windows, ready for the heat of an American summer to fill the home .

Joel made your coffee, exactly how you liked it, with frothed milk, plenty of syrup and in your favourite mug, engraved with your zodiac sign.

He held out his hand and you delicately took it and walked outside onto the patio. 

Wildflowers were scattered across the borders of the garden, splashes of colour and flickers of wildlife dashed throughout the morning dew.

A sparrow darted across the garden and landed the fence, calling out to the magnolia tree which shaded your patio. Joel laid propped up on his elbow as you both lounged on the deckchairs watching the birds and butterflies in the morning sun. 

He aimlessly ran his fingers up and down your leg, gazing at you sipping your coffee, and smirking with a full heart.

‘Enjoying the summer mornings baby?’ Joel drawled, as he stood up and stretched. His shirt lifted, revealing a strip of golden skin and chiselled stomach.

You tilted your head, squinting as the sun glowed into your eyes. ‘I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else, sweet boy. The city life doesn’t even compare’

‘Well this is your home now darl’. Can’t let you go anywhere now’ Joel winked and took your empty coffee mug into the kitchen.

You followed him into the house, finding the motivation to get your life together and not strip the man down to his bare bones. 

He pointed a finger at you. ‘You, shower.’

You rolled your eyes.

‘Er, none of that little miss. I’m not having you moaning when it’s 11am and the parking lots are gridlocked and you can’t get your damn scented candles and bed linens.’

You were too stunned to speak, and cackled as he knew you too well. How could you be mad when he loved you too deeply to let you lose out?

🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️

You hopped in the shower, scrubbing yourself whilst filling the air with fragrance that came from Joel’s mahogany teakwood shower gel. Women’s toiletries smelt sweet, but didn’t last anywhere near as long as men’s. And anyway, who wouldn’t want to have Joel’s scent lingering all day.

Wrapped up in a fluffy white towel and your hair in a towel wrap, you did your makeup, brushed out your lashes and eyebrows, and drowned yourself in Lost Cherry. Your signature scent. 

You decided on a linen co ord, baby pink with shorts and a long sleeved shirt, which you had unbuttoned slightly lower than normal, but smart enough to leave enough to the imagination. 

You danced down the stairs, hearing Joel and Sarah playing in the garden. Breakfast had been made and you invited Sarah to join you on your Saturday shopping trip before Joel had to go to work 

‘Come on peanut, I’ll treat you to the soda shaped candle you wanted’ you called to Sarah and grabbed your purse and some snacks, of course. Sarah ran upstairs to find one of her favourite dresses and matching bows. You prayed she’d never grow up out of her tutu dress stage for any occasion.

Joel looked like a dream, in his cargos and tight fitting flannel. The sky could be on fire and this man would still be wearing a flannel insisting it’s never too hot. He smelt like coffee and cigarette ash, and cedarwood.

He grabbed your waist, threatening to tilt you backwards over the garden sprinkler. You yelped and whacked him off with your purse and whispered seductively ‘That’s just taken away your chance to see what’s underneath my outfit.’

He fell to his knees and lunged into you, your knees buckling as he stood up with you over his shoulders. He ran into the kitchen, still holding you as if he was a fireman and the garden was a burning flame. Sarah skipped down the stairs and immediately ran with concern hearing you yelping.

‘Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to clear the exits!’ Joel did his stupid talking down a walkie talkie impression and pointed to Sarah to give way to you both. 

She crossed her arms and stood firmly in the doorway, as if she wasn’t 4ft nothing.

‘You leave me with no choice’ Joel seemed to forget he still had you upside down over his shoulder and squatted down to put Sarah in the same position.

You clumsily bumped heads as Joel flung you both about with no care. He dropped you on the sofa and Sarah on the armchair.

You were out of breath from laughing and trying to keep some of your dignity.

Joel realised the time, he had to leave in two minutes to go to the site. 

‘Well girls, thanks for holding me up’ he jokingly muttered, trying to imitate the attitude you and Sarah sometimes give him.

Sarah looked at you and you both shook your head and giggled. Joel chucked you the car keys and you and Sarah went out to do some shopping. 

🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️🫧☁️

After facing the trenches of a retail park in scorching heat, you headed home. Joel had called to say he would be home before you and asked what cocktail you wanted lined up.

Sarah was asleep in her car seat, and you reversed onto the drive, texting Joel to grab Sarah while you got the bags.

Joel’s eye widened and jaw went slack as he saw you unload the car.

‘Baby, if I see another throw cushion I may have to scream.’ Joel delivered the most deadpan one liners sometimes, digging at your femininity and weakness for home furnishings. 

‘Don’t act like you don’t fall asleep on them every single night half way through the film you decided to pick’ you shut the car door and let Joel chuckle as he went and layed Sarah on the sofa.

‘What’s for dinner baby?’ Joel asked.

‘Not sure, ask Sarah when she wakes up what she wants, I got groceries yesterday so she can pick’ you kissed his cheek and reached up for the wine glasses.

You gestured at Joel if he wanted some, and he pulled the cork out of the half finished wine bottle from last night with his teeth. 

You began to crumble under how hot this man was, until he blew the cork out of his mouth and aimed it for your head. He laughed like a boy and smacked your ass as you rolled your eyes. 

‘You know Miller, for someone who likes sex so much, you’re doing an awful lot to sabotage your chances of getting some tonight’ you tapped him on the hip with your foot, and he grabbed your ankle trying to trip you up. 

‘You can’t resist this boyish charm, baby’ he winked and showed his perfect white teeth through a grin.

Sarah came tiptoeing into the kitchen and cuddled her daddy. You sat on the breakfast stool next to Joel, and she clambered onto your lap. You kissed her forehead and she wrapped her arms round her neck. 

‘Daddy, can we have Pizza and the special salad you make?’

‘Anything for my princesses’ Joel stood and wrapped his thick arms round you both, before getting dinner ready for you all.

Sarah picked up your phone and scrolled through your playlist, picking the song you were humming as you drove earlier.

‘It’s so sweet, knowing that you love me. Though we don’t need to say it to eachother, sweet’

‘I love you’ you mouthed to Joel. Your eyes welled up as the song played and filled your heart with an overwhelming feeling of how happy you were.

[nurse-floyd]

First Mother’s Day

Warnings: none. Pure fluff.

Unbeta’d?

Spending your first Mother’s Day with Lando and your two favorite boys have a surprise for you.

Written for @urfavouriteanon sorry it’s a little late love!

You were no stranger to the drivers on the grid and the fans of F1 being Lando’s girlfriend and another person or animal who was also no stranger was your golden retriever Mack. If you were being honest with yourself you’d think he was more popular than you on the grid with how the drivers reacted whenever you brought him along. Mack, short for Mackenzie (Lando insisted it was for McLaren) quickly became a sensation on social media with the instagram account you’d made him that quickly gained almost as many followers as you overnight.

With no Grand Prix schedules over the Mother’s Day weekend, Lando found himself with a rare luxury of a day off at home with you. It was Mother’s Day in Monaco and while he’d already celebrated with his mother back when it was celebrated in the UK he was determined to make this an unforgettable first Mother’s Day for you now you were a dog mom.

As the sun began to stream through your window in your bedroom, Lando and little Mack had been up for a few hours scheming. Mack, with his tail wagging, seemed to understand the importance of the day as he followed Lando around everywhere while he got things set up for the day.

While you still slept soundly, Lando and your little puppy tiptoed around the kitchen planning your surprise. Lando had gotten a few recipes from his mum and had been secretly trying them out; he’d decided on fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon and freshly squeezed orange juice.

When you finally woke up, you rolled over to cuddle Lando but there was no sign of him. You looked to the bottom of your bed and hoped to see Mack curled up there but he wasn’t there either. Confused, you got out of bed and threw on your dressing gown before you moved towards the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. There your heart melted when you saw Lando, covered in flour at the grill flipping a few pancakes and turning the bacon in the pan. Mack was right next to him as he looked up with him with wide eyes.

Lando’s head snapped up as Mack ran to your side and jumped up on you. You bent down and gave him a few kisses as he excitedly licked your face. Lando moved the pans of the grill as he joined the pair of you and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” he said with a massive grin on his face.

Your heart melted at the effort both of your boys had put into making the day so special for you. As you moved to the sofa, Lando kept Mack behind and told you to get comfortable while he finished breakfast. A few minutes later you heard the tapping of feet against the hard floors as Mack trotted in with a bunch of flowers in his mouth, followed by Lando with two plates stacked with pancakes, bacon and maple syrup.

You would have been happy with the breakfast, flowers and time with your boys alone but Lando didn’t stop there. He had a whole day planned filled with your favorite activities. You started with a walk around one of your favorite trails to take Mack and a picnic Lando had set up, Mack happily bounded beside you the whole way and definitely enjoyed the fresh chicken Lando had packed special for the occasion.

As it began to get later, the three of you made your way home, exhausted but happy from the day spent together. You thought that was it and you would have been happy if it were, you hadn't even expected to be celebrating today.

As you walked towards Lando’s place you couldn’t help but notice the giddy smile he wore on his face. “What are you grinning at?”

“We’ve got one last surprise for you,” he replied as he gave Mack a scratch behind his ears.

“Lan, you’ve already given me so much and more. Today has been amazing,” you leant in to kiss his cheek, “thank you.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting the last surprise to be but when you walked into your living room your jaw dropped.

“Surprise,” he exclaimed with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Your eyes lit up as you took in the scene before you. While you were out, he’d managed to arrange for your living room to be transformed into what essentially was a pillow fort, however it was much more grand than the kind you’d set up as a kid. The ground was covered in big pillows and fluffy blankets, there were fairy lights strung up around the room and candles set up around the room ready to be lit.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you took in the scene before you and you wanted nothing more than to spend the evening cuddled up with your two boys. Together you settled down with Mack curled in between you. Lando ordered pizza and you spent the evening watching rubbish movies and snacking on pizza and popcorn.

As the night wore on, the glow of TV and fairy lights around the room, you couldn’t help but feel so happy with your little family surrounded by warmth, happiness and their love for you. “Thank you Lan. Today has been amazing.”

Between the scenes of the film, Lando couldn’t help but look between you and Mack, his heart filled with love for the girl who’d stolen his heart. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his side; he knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there with the pair of you. He loved his little family and he was excited to spend more Mother’s Days with your whether that was as a dog mom or as mom and dad.

[emilys-bangs]

Hiii can I please request an Emily fic where Emily takes care of reader during a bad mental health day? Something that’s lots of comfort/ fluff and just Emily being a really sweet and understanding gf :) thank you, love your writing! 🫶🏻

Hi tysm🫶🏼🫶🏼 and thank you for requesting!

————

Bad day | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, use of petnames, no use of yn, reader has a bad day

Word count: 1.6k

You wake to an empty bed. And the moment you do, you feel the familiar weight on your chest, like a thousand pounds had been dumped on your lungs, crushing them, compressing them. When you move to rub your eye, a heavy sluggishness resides in your limbs. It’s like cement runs through your veins instead of blood, making the simple act of lifting your arm unbearably heavy.

Giving up, you drop your hand and close your eyes, sinking back into darkness—as much darkness as could be found in the bright room; apparently Emily had taken the liberty of pushing open the curtains after she’d gotten up.

It’s rare that she gets up before you. Emily loves to sleep, loves soaking in lazy hours of the morning in bed with you, her nose buried in your hair, her leg thrown over yours. On the days you don’t have to work, tearing her out of bed is an insurmountable struggle. It’s where she feels most at home; between your arms, nestled in soft, warm sheets, laughs and kisses passed from her lips to yours.

Maybe that should’ve been your first sign—that you’d been asleep heavily enough that you hadn’t noticed her slip out of bed, your body subconsciously readying itself for the day ahead.

The day you never know how to deal with.

“Morning, babe.” Emily chirps, achingly beautiful with her hair tucked behind her ears, the sunlight painting her golden as she pads across the room and to your side of the bed, her tiny shorts barely visible beneath her baggy Yale tee. She holds a plate of French toast in one hand and a mug of perfectly prepared coffee in the other.

It almost hurts, how much you love her. In many ways she feels like your salvation, with her soft hands and lips, her gentle brown eyes, the warm comfort of her arms and the soothing cadence of her voice. But some days, like today, even her presence can’t ease the tightness in your chest, the weary heaviness in your bones.

“Morning,” you mumble back, decidedly less enthusiastic.

She doesn’t linger on your tone, probably chalking it up to the early hour. “I made your favorite,” she singsongs, her eyes shining bright as she sets down the plate and coffee on your nightstand.

Your stomach already roils with something heavy, uncomfortable. A strange weight settles in your gut like cement and there’s a lump in your throat, your tongue numb. 

“I don’t want it.” Your voice is low, similar to that of a petulant child’s. It’s flat and distant, and your girlfriend tilts her head in question.

She frowns, a small scrunch between her perfect brows. “Why not, honey? You usually love my French toast.” Her lips tilt up into a smile, but her eyes are searching on yours, digging, cataloging—profiling.

That makes you turn away. “Not hungry,” you speak into her pillow, a strange throbbing behind your eyes making your vision blur. The smell of her French toast is the same as it always is—buttery and drenched in sweet syrup—but it makes your empty stomach lurch, for what reason you don’t know.

There’s usually no warning that precedes these days. No alarm bells going off, no trigger that sends you into a spiral of tears and racing thoughts. Vaguely, you know that these are classified as bad days, even when no life changing, earth shattering crisis occurs.

Sometimes it’s all just in your head.

The mattress dips as Emily places her knee next to your hip, hovering over you as her hand softly falls to your forehead.

“Hey,” she murmurs, swiping your hair away from your cheek, “you okay?”

Tears form hot in your eyes. You shake your head and they fall onto the pillow, staining it, soaking the fabric.

Emily inhales sharply when she sees them. Her touch is feather light but somehow still impossibly sturdy as she wipes away the warm tears and hooks her finger under your chin, forcing your gaze on hers. “Baby, what’s wrong?” She breathes.

It’s one pet name she almost never uses with you, except for the achingly soft—rare—vulnerable moments between you and her. In the pale, pale, morning light, your hand warm between her thighs, your touch sending her into a spiral, her lashes fluttering and her panting breaths skipping across your skin as she pulls you in for a kiss. In the midnight blue of the living room, when you’re drowsy and tripping over your feet, barely awake as she supports you with a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you to bed. When one of you is hurt, blood streaked on your skin, bruises marring your bodies and tears making your eyes go glassy, either from being injured or watching your love go through the pain.

So when she says that to you, the floodgates open in earnest.

You’re a sobbing mess as she takes you into her arms, the food and coffee forgotten, nothing existing in time except for you and her and your tears, your unexplainable grief, her warm hands, her soothing voice. She whispers nonsense into your ears and strokes your hair, her short nails hitching against your scalp every so often.

The pressure in your lungs mounts and you collapse into her, wanting to feel something familiar amongst all the wrongness in your body, your mind.

“I don’t feel…right.” You hiccup, tightly clenching her shirt in your fists. Her hand is warm on the back of your neck and you bury your face under her jaw, breathing in the faint hints of the lotion she lathers on before bed, intertwined with the scent of sugar and syrup.

“In what way, mon ange?” She asks, as breathless as you are, her voice overflowing with concern as she holds you tighter. A kiss is pressed to your hair and you tremble, a sob getting trapped in your throat.

“Every way. Bad day.” You choke out through the tears. 

Emily doesn’t say anything else. She holds you, lets you cry your eyes out and soak her shirt with tears, soothing murmurs in French and Italian falling to your ears as she rocks you back and forth. You don’t know how long it takes before the tears slow and your breathing evens, your throat going dry as Emily continues kissing your forehead and rubbing your back.

When you quieten down completely she leans back to look at you. “I’m somewhat of an expert on bad days,” she whispers, giving you a tiny smile as she wipes the hair away from your wet cheeks. “Baths help,” she tells you softly, rubbing between your shoulder blades, “wanna try with me?”

It’s hard to think a bath could help ease the jumbled mess you feel like you are right now. But you trust her implicitly, so you nod. 

Emily’s responding smile is gentle. She tenderly wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead before helping you up off the bed, into the bathroom. Her arm is warm around your waist as she makes you sit on the lid of the toilet and turns to draw the bath.

You watch her with heavy eyelids, sniffling quietly as she checks the temperature of the water, making sure it’s hot before it fills the tub. When it’s full she walks over to you, holding her hands out. 

Taking them shakily, you let her help you out of your pajamas and into the warm water. She sinks to her knees on the edge of the tub and gives you a small smile, her concerned eyes locking with yours. You tug at her hand, your fingers tightly linked with hers.

“Em,” you rasp, pulling her toward you, and she nods.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

She’s shedding her clothes and settling in behind you without you having to say much else. Her hands gently bring you back into her chest and she kisses the back of your head. “Just close your eyes,” she murmurs, “it might help.”

You hear her scoop up water in her hands, then feel the warmth of it as it soaks your scalp. Slowly, methodically, she washes your hair and works the shampoo into your scalp until it lathers, the refreshing scent of eucalyptus permeating through the steam. Just as gently, she washes it off, then starts to work on your body.

In that moment, you feel so fit to burst with love that silent tears run down your cheeks, dripping into the bubbly bath water. Emily kisses the tears off—the ones she can catch before they outrace her—and murmurs I love you’s into your skin until the water grows cold.

After the bath she dresses you in her warm satin pajamas, her lips pressing kisses on your skin as she tucks you back into bed, despite the brightly shining sun outside. 

“I’m not tired,” you protest despite the sluggishness in your bones. Emily slides the curtains closed and climbs back into bed with you.

“It won’t hurt to close your eyes, mon ange.” She kisses your forehead and gathers your wet hair in her hands, splitting it into three sections. She starts braiding without combing through the tangles, probably sensing your dishonesty. “Are you hungry?”

Closing your eyes, you shake your head. Emily hums and finishes off the braid, draping it over your pillow so it doesn’t dampen your clothes.

You turn to her, the lump in your throat lessened somewhat. “Thank you.” Your voice trembles.

Emily tsks lightly as she cups your cheek and kisses your temple. “There’s nothing to thank me for.” She whispers. Gently laying your head back down on the pillow, she lies down next to you, on top of the covers. 

A small smile tugs at her lips, tinged with worry. Before you can return it, your eyes shutter closed, exhaustion from crying your heart dry making you too tired to keep them open any longer. 

“Stay with me?” You slur as you fall fast into the dark comfort of sleep.

Her hand engulfs yours. “Always.”

Please let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments mean the world! If you have any Emily prompts, drop them in my inbox <3

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A purplish-grey stew topped with olive oil and garnished with piles of pomegranate seeds. Plates of green peppers, bitter olives, olive oil, taboon bread, green onions, radishes, and za'tar surround the dish. The second image is a close-up of the same stew. End ID]

رمانية / Rummāniyya (Palestinian pomegranate stew)

Rummaniyya (رُمَّانِيَّة; also transliterated "rumaniyya," "rummaniya," and "rummaniyeh") is a Palestinian stew or dip made from lentils, eggplant, and pomegranate seeds, flavored with nutty red tahina and a zesty, spicy دُقَّة (dugga) of dill seeds, garlic, and peppers. A طشة (ṭsha), or tempering, of olive oil and onion or garlic is sometimes added.

"Rummaniyya," roughly "pomegranate-y," comes from رُمَّان‎ ("rummān") "pomegranate," plus the abstract noun suffix ـِيَّة ("iyya"); the dish is also known as حبّة رُمَّانَة ("ḥabbat rommāna"), or "pomegranate seeds." It is a seasonal dish that is made at the end of summer and the beginning of fall, when pomegranates are still green, unripe, and sour.

This stew is considered to be one of the most iconic, historic, and beloved of Palestinian dishes by people from Gaza, Yaffa, and Al-Ludd. Pomegranates—their seeds, their juice, and a thick syrup made from reducing the juice down—are integral to Palestinian cuisine and heritage, and images of them abound on ceramics and textiles. Pomegranates and their juice are sold from street carts and cafes in the West Bank and Gaza.

Today, tens of thousands of tons of pomegranates are grown and harvested by Israeli farmers on stolen Palestinian farmland; about half of the crop is exported, mainly to Europe. Meanwhile, Palestinians have a far easier time gaining permits to work on Israeli-owned farms than getting permission from the military to work land that is ostensibly theirs. These restrictions apply within several kilometers of Israel's claimed borders with Gaza and the West Bank, some of the most fertile land in the area; Palestinian farmers working in this zone risk being injured or killed by military fire.

Israel further restricts Palestinians' ability to work their farms and export crops by imposing tariffs, unexpectedly closing borders, shutting down and contaminating water supplies, spraying Palestinian crops with pesticides, bulldozing crops (including eggplant) when they are ready to be harvested, and bombing Palestinian farmland and generators. Though Palestinian goods have local markets, the sale of Palestinian crops to Israel was forbidden from 2007 to 2014 (when Israel accepted shipments of goods including tomato and eggplant).

Gazans have resisted these methods by disregarding orders to avoid the arable land near Israel's claimed borders, continuing to forage native plants, growing new spices and herbs for export, planting hydroponic rooftop gardens, crushing chalk and dried eggplants to produce calcium for plants, using fish excrement as fertilizer, creating water purification systems, and growing plants in saltwater. Resisting Israeli targeting of Palestinian food self-sufficiency has been necessary for practical and economic reasons, but also symbolizes the endurance of Palestinian culture, history, and identity.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; donating to Palestine Action's bail fund; and buying an e-Sim for distribution in Gaza.

Serves 6-8.

Ingredients:

For the stew:

1 medium eggplant (370g)

1 cup brown lentils (عدس اسود)

600g pomegranate seeds (to make 3 cups juice)

3 Tbsp all-purpose flour

1/4 cup red tahina

1/2 cup olive oil

Salt, to taste

Citric acid (ملح الليمون / حامِض ليمون) (optional)

Red tahina may be approximated with home cooking tools with the above-linked recipe; you may also toast white tahina in a skillet with a little olive oil, stirring often, until it becomes deeply golden brown.

For the دُقَّة (dugga / crushed condiment):

2 tsp cumin seeds, or ground cumin

1 1/2 Tbsp dill seeds ("locust eye" بذور الشبت / عين جرادة)

5 cloves garlic

1 green sweet pepper (فلفل بارد اخضر)

2 dried red chilis (فلفل شطة احمر)

People use red and green sweet and chili peppers in whatever combination they have on hand for this recipe; e.g. red and green chilis, just green chilis, just red chilis, or just green sweet peppers. Green sweet peppers and red chilis are the most common combination.

For the طشة (Tsha / tempering) (optional):

Olive oil

1 Tbsp minced garlic

Instructions:

1. Rinse and pick over lentils. In a large pot, simmer lentils, covered, in enough water to cover for about 8 minutes, or until half-tender.

2. Meanwhile, make the dugga by combining all ingredients in a mortar and pestle or food processor, and grinding until a coarse mixture forms.

Dugga and components.

3. Cube eggplant. A medium-sized eggplant may be cut in half lengthwise (through the root), each half cut into thirds lengthwise, then cubed widthwise.

Cubed eggplant, red tahina, and pomegranate seeds.

4. Add eggplant to simmering water (there is no need to stir).

5. While the eggplant cooks, blend pomegranate seeds in a blender very thoroughly. Strain to remove any gritty residue. Whisk flour into pomegranate juice.

Pomegranate juice being strained.

6. Taste your pomegranate juice. If it is not sour, add a pinch of citric acid or a splash of lemon juice and stir.

7. Add dagga to the pot with the lentils and eggplant and stir. Continue to simmer until the eggplant is very tender and falling apart.

8. Add pomegranate juice, tahina, and olive oil to the pot, and simmer for another 5 minutes, or until stew is very thick and homogenous.

Bright pink pomegranate juice in stockpot.

9. (Optional) In a small skillet, heat a little olive oil on medium. Fry minced garlic, stirring constantly, until golden brown. Add into the pot and stir.

10. (Optional) Mash the stew with the bowl of a ladle or a bean masher to produce a more homogenous texture.

Serve rummaniyya hot or cold in individual serving bowls. It may be served as an appetizer, or as a main dish alongside flatbread, olives, and fresh vegetables such as radishes, green peppers, green onions, carrots, and romaine lettuce. It may be eaten with a spoon, or by using كماج (kmāj), a flatbread with an internal pocket, to scoop up each bite.

[maesfics]

LAZY MORNING — l.sm

pairing ; lee seokmin x fem!reader

↬ warnings ; established relationship, dk being clingy, fluff, DK BEING BF MATERIAL lmk if I forgot anything.

↬ ㅤㅤword count ; 1.2k

↬ synopsis ; 𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ you and your boyfriend share a lazy, romantic morning complete with pillow fights, a pancake competition, and cherished moments under the cherry blossoms, capturing it all in a perfect photo.

a/n ; Idea litch just came to mind and i think is so fitting for this man. tbh idk how i feel about this but i think this turned out okay?? | p.s. reblogs and feedback are extremely appreciated — i love to hear ur thoughts <3

if you want to request it's open! | inbox |

The first light of dawn had just begun to peek through the sheer curtains when the familiar melody of DK's voice filled the air, gentle but persistent. "Hey, wake up," he whispered, a playful lilt dancing in his tone. You groaned, burrowing deeper under the covers, only for them to be suddenly yanked away.

"Incoming!" DK announced, and before you could protest, a pillow struck softly against your side. Eyes snapping open, you grabbed a pillow of your own, and the quiet of the morning was quickly replaced by laughter and the muffled thumps of pillows.

The fight was less about winning and more about finding a thousand ways to make each other laugh. DK feinted to the left and you took the bait, ending up straddling him triumphantly. His eyes locked onto yours, a mischievous spark in them that matched your own. And then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, you both leaned in for a kiss, tender and lingering, a perfect contrast to the playful chaos moments before.

The kiss deepened, slowing time itself, before breaking into a series of smaller, softer ones—on the nose, the forehead, the laugh lines that only appeared when he was truly happy. Smiling, DK gently tugged you off him, his hands never leaving your waist as he guided you both towards the bathroom.

Amidst the steam and the smell of mint toothpaste, you stood side by side at the sink, brushing your teeth and sharing coy glances in the mirror. Every so often, DK would nudge you with his elbow, making you almost miss your mouth with the toothbrush, each little jab accompanied by a chuckle.

The domesticity of it was heartwarming, soothing in its simplicity. There was something incredibly intimate about performing such mundane tasks together, a silent declaration of trust and familiarity. And as you rinsed your mouths, the foamy water swirling down the drain, you realized these were the moments you cherished most—unremarkable to anyone else, but to you, they were everything.

After the shared laughter and playful nudges in the bathroom, the two of you moved to the heart of the home—the kitchen. The air was cooler here, away from the steam of the bathroom, and filled with the promise of a leisurely day ahead.

“Pancake challenge?” you proposed, already reaching for the flour and eggs. A competitive glint appeared in DK’s eyes, one that you had come to recognize and adore during your time together.

“You’re on,” he accepted, rolling up the sleeves of his comfortable, worn sweater. The kitchen became a battleground of sorts, with both of you determined to create the perfect pancake. He claimed one side of the counter, you the other, and so the Breakfast Beatdown commenced.

You both moved around the kitchen with an ease that spoke volumes of the mornings spent just like this one. He expertly flipped a pancake, catching it with a flourish that made you laugh. Not to be outdone, you attempted a flip that sent your pancake spinning, a bit off-center, but landing back in the pan nonetheless.

“Not bad,” DK appraised, his tone teasing but his smile genuine. “But let’s see if they taste as good as they look.”

You plated your creations, the golden-brown discs piled high and adorned with berries and a drizzle of syrup. Sitting down at the small kitchen table, the one with the mismatched chairs that somehow suited you both perfectly, you took your first bites.

The world outside didn’t matter in moments like these. It was just you, DK, and the quiet comfort of sharing a meal, the sweetness of the syrup somehow not as sweet as the company.

As you cleared the plates, a playful argument arose about who would wash and who would dry. It ended with a compromise—you would both wash, hands bumping and water splashing, turning even this simple chore into another opportunity for connection.

With the dishes done, it seemed only natural to continue the easy rhythm of the morning. DK pulled out his phone, a new idea already forming as he caught sight of the both of you in the reflective surface of the toaster.

“Let’s give carats a bit of a morning teaser,” he said, his voice low, mindful of the privacy you both cherished.

He held up the phone, the camera facing you two, and you both leaned in. The camera captured the scene—a snapshot of domestic bliss, your hair still tousled from sleep, his eyes crinkling with joy, the kitchen a backdrop to your shared life. It was a glimpse into a world that was usually kept just for the two of us.

The post went up on Weverse, with a caption that was warm but vague, a small insight into his world that wouldn’t reveal too much. The responses were immediate, a flurry of heart emojis and exclamations of how cute you both were, even though they could only guess at who the person beside him was.

As you scrolled through the comments, leaning against DK, you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You didn’t need to look up to know he was smiling—that easy, heart-stopping smile that promised more lazy mornings and shared pancakes to come.

As the digital flurry of comments continued to glow on the screen, both of you chose to set aside the phone, turning your attention back to the present, where the true essence of the day resided.

DK stood, offering his hand with a charming smile. "How about we go for a walk? The cherry blossoms should be perfect right now," he suggested. You nodded, eager to enjoy the outside air, a perfect continuation of your lazy morning.

Hand in hand, you stepped outside, the spring breeze greeting you with the faint scent of blossoms and fresh earth. The streets were quiet, a peaceful Saturday morning with just the occasional passerby, who either didn't recognize DK or chose to respect his privacy. The tranquility added a layer of perfection to your stroll.

As you walked, the rows of cherry trees in full bloom seemed to arch above you, creating a tunnel of soft pink petals. Suddenly, DK paused under a particularly lush cherry blossom tree, its branches heavy with vibrant pink blooms.

"Stay right here," he said, stepping back with his phone raised. "This needs to be captured."

You looked up, smiling as a gentle shower of petals fell around you. DK snapped several photos, his eyes lighting up with each one. Coming over, he showed you the screen, a series of images that perfectly captured the essence of the moment—joy, serenity, and the surreal beauty surrounding you.

"I'm setting this as my wallpaper," he declared, his voice filled with a warmth that matched the sunny day. "So even when I'm away, I can always have this moment with me."

You felt a surge of affection, touched by his gesture. The day continued with your hands re-entwined, each step under the cherry blossoms further deepening your connection.

Finally returning home, you both settled on the couch, wrapped in a light blanket, content to simply be in each other’s presence. Outside, the world continued at its usual pace, but inside, the slow rhythm of a lazy morning stretched on, a timeless bubble that both of you cherished deeply.

DK looked over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Thanks for the perfect morning," he murmured.

"You make every morning perfect," you whispered back, leaning in for another kiss, slow and sweet, the perfect end to your lazy morning under the cherry blossoms.

[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

[luxtrys]

casual dominance with anakin

anakin takes protecting you and your feelings very very seriously. and when you don't take care of yourself or get hurt, ani goes crazy.

<3

it was a peaceful sunday morning in your apartment, the golden sun light shining into your apartment and making your skin glow. you hummed a sweet tune to yourself as you whisked together your pancake batter in your baby pink bowl. you had been having pancakes every sunday morning since you were a baby, and you kept the tradition when you moved in with anakin.

he was always up before you in the morning without fail. he woke up a 6am sharp and kissed your forehead while you whined at the loss of warmth from his furnace of a body, knuckling at your sleepy eyes. he smiled down at your half-asleep figure before slipping on his running shoes and heading out the door. you didn't know how he did it, every morning. he had convinced you to come along once on his 2-hour runs and he had to carry you on his back the whole way home.

you woke up about an hour and a bit later, throwing on his massive hoodie over your body and padding your socked feet all the way to the kitchen. once you had combined all the ingredients, you cursed yourself as you tasted the bitter batter, you had forgotten the best and most important ingredient. the sugar.

you huffed to yourself as you looked all the way up at the top of your cupboard, the clear jar with the word sugar etched on it staring down at you. you turned your head and glanced around at your surroundings, you knew if anakin saw you he would be pissed. but you were hungry and so very impatient. so you took matters into your own hands

you placed your hands down on the white marble countertop, hoisting yourself up so you were standing tall on the surface. you took a deep breath in as you held onto the cupboard, trying not to slip and break your back.

you were all unknowing as anakin stared at you from the doorframe, trying not to implode. he couldn't keep count of the amount of times he had told you not to climb on the counter's, but you disobeyed him, and that made him seethe.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he annouced, not giving you the time to squeal and slip off the counter top as he gripped your waist and rested you down on the floor swiftly. he watched as a light pink color tinged your cheeks and you avoided his harsh gaze.

he scoffed at your avoidance, gripping your chin heavily and leaning down to your face. "you gonna answer me baby?" he asked, his tone powerful and commanding. you stared up at him with puppy eyes, watching as he stared at you through his eyebrows.

"i was just grabbing the sugar, need it for my pancakes ani" you spoke, your words just above a whisper. "how many times have i told you not to climb up those counters, you're gonna hurt yourself baby" he said, his voice slowly softening. you gazed up at him as he grabbed the sugar from the cupboard effortlessly, barely having to stretch his arm out.

he bit his lip as he kneeled down, running his hands up and down your legs, scanning your skin for any marks or bruises. you almost let out a scoff as he lifted up the hoodie, staring at your stomach and pink and purple polka dot underwear. he pressed a kiss to the skin right about the waistband of your panties, resting the hoodie back over your stomach and half of your thighs.

"i can do stuff myself ani, i'm an independent woman" you state, huffing softly. "sure you are. but if you ever get hurt, i don't know what i would do with myself, so don't fucking try that shit again, yeah? and watch that attitude of yours." he reaches his hand down your lower back, pinching your ass softly before setting a heated kiss to your lips

"you want me to get out the syrup princess?" he wonders, stepping towards the fridge. you blush at how nonchalantly he reprimands you, spinning around and nodding sweetly.

[bvbygrl-writes]

Season of The Witch (3)

Pairing: Jacob Black x Witch!Reader x Edward Cullen

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: (Y/n) (L/n) is 19 and still trying to figure out the world. She isn't sure of a lot of things but she is sure of one: she's gonna have her cake and eat it too.

A/N: Edward's here!

Warnings: N/A but it will be 18+ at some point most likely. Minors and blanks dni. Also I didn't edit any of it so ignore any typos.

The morning sunlight streamed in gently through every window in your room. The sounds of birds and crickets singing in a chorus together were the first sounds you awoke to. The only way you knew last night wasn’t a dream was from the text on your phone from Jacob, letting you know he was looking forward to seeing you. You felt dizzy with delight, sending him a reply to know you were looking forward to seeing him too.

Stretching as you stand up, you walk over to the balcony, opening the doors as you step out into the unusually warm Fall air. Looking down, you see the progress your mom has made in such a short time in the yard. A pergola now sat near the edge, a beautiful outdoor dining table sat under it with string lights that had not yet been turned on. Directly below your window, she had began on a garden. Strawberries, blueberries, tomatoes, pumpkins, and many different types of herbs were already in bloom, despite the season. Looking to your left, you saw her floating near the window to your dad’s office. She was finishing planting a few flowers in a planter box she had added. She smiled as she noticed you, flying over a bit as she perched her elbows on the railing of your balcony.

“Good morning, sweetie. I couldn’t sleep last night, I was too excited to start decorating! I have so many ideas blooming.” she gushed to you enthusiastically. You yawn, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes as you give her a soft smile.

“It looks amazing so far mom. Just be careful, it’s broad daylight. Anyone could walk by and see you flying and sprouting stuff from the ground.” you remind her. She rolls her eyes, waving you off.

“Already ahead of ya. I put a veil over the house so to anyone, it’ll just look like I’m on a ladder. Me and your dad had breakfast already since he had to be in for work early but I left you a plate in the kitchen!” your stomach grumbles at the mention of breakfast. “Also I left a list of potion supplies we’re growing low on, do you think you could head into the woods after you’re dressed and get them for me?” you nod lazily and she squeezes your hand gently before floating back over to the window, continuing her meticulous flower planting.

After you’ve gotten ready for the day, you head down to the kitchen. On the counter, there’s a plate of pancakes, fresh maple syrup, and a bowl of fruit. You see the list stuck to the fridge with a magnet. Taking your plate to the dining room, you begin looking the list over as you scarf down your breakfast. Everything should be easy enough to gather. 

Placing your plate into the dishwasher, you toss the list in your satchel before grabbing some twine and a basket near the back door. As you step out of it, you notice the entrance your mom must’ve made for you to the forest. The trees are braided around each other in a circular shape, flowers woven throughout.

There’s not a clear path as you go deeper but that doesn’t scare you. Waving your hand, a golden luminous line follows behind you so you can easily find your way back home. With your list floating near your head with a pen, you start to search for the first ingredient.

“Mugwort…mugwort…ah, there it is!” Taking out a pair of plant sheers, you cut a nice amount, your twine floating out of your bag to tie the bushel up before it floats back to your open bag. The enchanted pen crosses it out from the list. “Just eight more things to go.” you mutter to yourself. Hopefully the rest would be as easy to find.

With eight out of nine things gathered, you just needed the final one: water from a natural source. As you went further and further into the woods, you could hear running water. Turning left, you walked forward finally finding the source of the sound. There was a small creek running further than your eyes could see. Taking out a mason jug, you leaned down to the water filling it up. It was going well enough until you heard a noise. It was fast footsteps and from the sound of it, it was getting closer to you. Standing up with your half filled jar, you got prepared in a stance.

 An unnaturally fast blur was a few feet from you. Without a second thought, you shook your hands raising them above your head. Thick vines and roots began to raise, wrapping tightly around the creature which you now could identify as a…person? If you could even call him that. The man before you was gorgeous, his face looking as if it was chiseled from marble. But something was different about him. He was unusually pale, with eyes of gold and pretty pink lips. You watched as he struggled in the vines, an intense look on his face until his eyes met you. Your mouth was agape, eyes wide as you approached him.

“What…what are you? You’re clearly warm blooded but you’re definitely not human.” he said in an aggressive tone. Waving your hand, you released him from the vines. He wasted no time in approaching you, a mere inches away from you. Your head began to throb a bit. Was he…

“Are you trying to read my mind?” you questioned, scowling at him. Your mom had taught you how to block your thoughts from other occults but it always came at a cost. You got a small headache whenever you did so. His eyes widened, staggering back a bit.

“Yes but…how did you do that? I could get into your mind but, I was blocked from your thoughts.” he responded in amazement. He reached out, grabbing your face in both his hands, causing you to shudder. His hands were as cold as ice. The speed, his body temperature, the color of his eyes. It was all starting to make sense now. 

“Vampire?”

“Witch?”

You both said at the same time. You both step back from each other, scared of what the other may do, not knowing that neither of you were a threat. “I thought all witches went extinct during Salem.” he said. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Clearly not. They did a number on us but many of us exist, although most are outside of America. But as you know, we’re not an enemy to none but a friend to all.” you explain. He steps closer to you, running a hand down your shoulder.

“Amazing.” he answers breathlessly. Looking up at him, you get an even better look at his features now. He truly is a sight to behold. Before you can say another word, he’s on the ground as a shirtless man you’re quite familiar with attacks him.

“Get away from her, bloodsucker!” Jacob shouts. Your eyes widen in shock. The two of them roll around on the ground, attacking each other. There are punches thrown left and right and Jacob is surprisingly holding his weight well. But you’re not sure if either one will live if they go on like this. And you know if Jacob gets any more angry, he might wolf out.

You blow air from your mouth, a big swarm of wind towards them. The both fly back from one another, landing on the ground with a thud. Even with the cuts on his body, Jacob still looks up at you with concern.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, standing up with a grunt as he rushes to your side. He grabs your face, looking it over for any signs of damage. You place your hand over his, causing him to look into your eyes. He relaxes at your touch some.

“I’m okay, Jacob honestly. I can hold my own quite well. Plus,” you look over at the vampire who’s now standing up, near you but far enough away that Jacob can’t touch him. “He’s no threat. I read into his mind a little, Edward is no threat.” Edward smiles at that, causing Jacob to growl, pulling you back flush into his chest. 

“Well that’s not fair. You can read mine but yours is off limits?” He asks. Jacob’s grip tightens on you some.

“You don’t deserve to know a single thought in her head.” He spits out, causing Edward to look up at him with a scowl. You could tell Jacob was slowly losing his composure. Releasing yourself from his grip, you grab his hand tugging him back towards the direction you came.

“Let’s just go, Jake. You were going to show me around, remember?” You ask, looking up at him. He looks down at you smiling, squeezing your hand some. You put his mind at ease, bringing him a sense of calm just from being near him. Looking back over your shoulder, you see Edward still watching you. “The name’s (Y/n) by the way.”

When you’re finally back to your house, you see a motorcycle parked in your driveway, a helmet hanging from the right handle. You look from the bike to Jacob. “This yours?” you ask him, walking around the bike as you inspect it.

“Yeah, I built it myself. I’m pretty good with things like that.” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls something out. Stepping towards you, he motions for you to turn around. You do so, lifting your hair as he places a necklace around your neck. It’s a gold necklace with a pendant of a wolf on it. You hold the charm in your hand, smiling. “I noticed the other day you like to wear a lot of necklaces so I made this one for you.”

“Wait, you made this? Jake this is amazing! Thank you, really, thank you.” you say, turning around to hug him. He instantly reciprocates it, his hands trailing up and down your back before kissing the top of your head.

“A special girl deserves a special gift. And you…are a special girl.” He whispers the last part, pulling back from you. You bite your lip nervously, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“I feel like since you know my…secret, it’s only right that I tell you I know yours too.” his eyes widen before he looks away, turning his attention to the ground. “It’s okay, I think it’s cool. I saw your tattoo and recognized the symbol from one of my occult history books. You know, witches and werewolves have worked alongside each other for centuries.” you tell him, grabbing his hand. He lets out a sigh of relief, massaging your hand in his.

“I grew up hearing legends about witches but I wasn’t aware they were still around. I guess it was written in the stars for us to get along so well.” he says, handing you the helmet as he mounts the bike. You put it on, strapping it in place before hopping on behind him. You wrap your arms around his middle, leaning against his back.

“I guess so.”

4

[callsigns-haze]

Short love: Prologue

Summary: The is about widowed father Bradley Bradshaw who enlists his brother-in-law Jake Seresin and childhood best friend Robert Floyd to help raise his three daughters, eldest Donna Jo Margaret (D.J for short), middle child Stephanie and youngest Michelle in his San Diego home. 

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Warning: Fluff

In the warm embrace of the morning sun, Y/n stood in Bradley's cozy kitchen, a sense of excitement bubbling within her as she prepared to whip up a batch of pancakes from scratch. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon that would soon infuse the fluffy pancakes.

With a deft hand, Y/n measured out flour, baking powder, and a pinch of salt into a mixing bowl, the ingredients coming together in a cloud of soft white powder. She cracked eggs into the bowl, their golden yolks adding richness to the batter, and poured in a splash of creamy milk.

As she whisked the ingredients together, Y/n's mind drifted back to fond memories of lazy Sunday mornings spent in her grandmother's kitchen, learning the art of pancake-making from the master herself. She smiled at the thought, grateful for the tradition that had been passed down through generations.

Adding a dollop of melted butter and a hint of pure maple syrup to the batter, Y/n stirred until it was smooth and silky, the mixture taking on a golden hue that promised deliciousness with every bite. With a satisfied nod, she set the bowl aside to rest, allowing the flavours to meld and develop while she heated up the griddle.

The sizzle of butter hitting the hot surface filled the kitchen as Y/n ladled spoonful's of batter onto the griddle, each one spreading out into perfect circles of golden goodness. She watched with anticipation as bubbles formed on the surface of the pancakes, signalling that it was time to flip them over to cook on the other side.

With a flick of her wrist, Y/n expertly flipped the pancakes, their edges turning crisp and golden as they cooked to perfection. The kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of caramelized sugar and warm spices, beckoning her nieces to the breakfast table with eager anticipation.

As Y/n finished up the last batch of pancakes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. Moments later, Stephanie and DJ, her two oldest nieces, appeared in the kitchen, their faces lighting up with surprise and delight at the sight of the delicious breakfast spread before them.

"Good morning, Aunt Y/n!" Stephanie exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "What's all this?"

Y/n turned to greet them, her smile widening at the sight of their eager expressions. "Good morning, girls!" she replied, her voice warm and jovial. "I thought I'd whip up a little breakfast treat for my favourite nieces."

DJ and Stephanie exchanged a look of disbelief, their eyes widening in astonishment. "You made all this?" DJ asked, her voice tinged with amazement.

Y/n nodded proudly, gesturing towards the table where plates of fluffy pancakes, bowls of fresh fruit, and pitchers of maple syrup awaited them. "All from scratch," she confirmed, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Stephanie and DJ wasted no time in helping themselves to the delicious spread, their mouths watering at the sight and smell of the pancakes. They piled their plates high with pancakes, drizzling them generously with syrup and adding a handful of fresh berries on the side.

As they dug into their breakfast, laughter and conversation filled the kitchen, the sound of their voices blending harmoniously with the clink of forks against plates. Y/n watched them with pride, her heart swelling with love for her nieces and the joy of being able to spoil them with a homemade breakfast. Together, they savoured each mouthful of pancakes, savouring the warmth and comfort of being together as a family.

As Y/n sat at the kitchen table with her two nieces, DJ and Stephanie, the aroma of freshly made pancakes filled the air, mingling with the excitement bubbling within her. With a warm smile, she decided to share with them stories of her recent geographic news reporting trip to Australia, a journey that had taken her to the far reaches of the continent.

"DJ, Stephanie, did I ever tell you about my recent trip to Australia for work?" Y/n began, her voice filled with anticipation.

The girls shook their heads, their eyes wide with curiosity as they eagerly dug into their pancakes.

"Well, let me tell you, it was an adventure unlike any other," Y/n continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she recounted her memories.

"As a geographic news reporter, I had the incredible opportunity to travel to some of the most remote and breath-taking locations in Australia. From the rugged Outback to the lush rainforests, I witnessed the stunning diversity of landscapes that make up this vast continent."

DJ and Stephanie listened intently, their pancake-filled mouths forgotten as they hung on Y/n's every word.

"I explored ancient Aboriginal sites, where rock art told the stories of generations past. I trekked through dense rainforests, where towering trees and cascading waterfalls created a sense of wonder and awe."

The girls gasped in amazement, their imaginations sparked by Y/n's vivid descriptions.

"But do you know what was truly remarkable?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with wonder.

"What?" DJ and Stephanie chimed in unison.

"The people," Y/n replied, her voice tinged with admiration. "I met incredible individuals who were deeply connected to the land and its rich cultural heritage. From Aboriginal elders sharing their wisdom to local communities welcoming me with open arms, I was constantly inspired by their resilience and strength."

As they finished their pancakes, DJ and Stephanie bombarded Y/n with questions about her trip, eager to learn more about the fascinating experiences she had encountered. And as Y/n shared more stories and answered their curious inquiries, she knew that her nieces were already dreaming of their own adventures, inspired by the tales of distant lands and faraway journeys.

In the bustling kitchen of the Bradshaw household, Y/n watched the clock anxiously as her two nieces, DJ and Stephanie, leisurely nibbled on their pancakes. With each passing second, her sense of urgency grew, knowing that they were perilously close to missing their school bus.

"Come on, girls, hurry up! You need to finish your pancakes quickly so we can get you to the bus stop on time," Y/n urged, her voice tinged with urgency.

DJ and Stephanie glanced at each other, their eyes widening with realization as they realized the gravity of the situation. With newfound determination, they began to eat with renewed speed, their pancakes disappearing in record time.

As Y/n bustled around the kitchen, packing their backpacks and gathering their coats, she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at the time ticking away. The school bus would be arriving any minute, and she dreaded the thought of having to drive them to school herself.

"Come on, girls, we need to go!" Y/n called out, her voice tinged with urgency as she ushered them out the door.

With a final gulp of orange juice and a hasty goodbye, DJ and Stephanie scrambled out of their chairs and raced to the front door, their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

As they hurried down the front steps and onto the sidewalk, Y/n breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that they had made it just in time. With a quick wave goodbye, she watched as they boarded the school bus, their faces flushed with excitement and the thrill of making it just in time.

As the bus pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner, Y/n couldn't help but smile. Despite the chaos and rush of the morning, she knew that she wouldn't have it any other way. After all, these were the moments that made being an aunt so special.

In the early morning hustle and bustle of the Bradshaw household, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs as Bradley rushed into the kitchen, baby Michelle cradled in his arms. His face was a mix of determination and concern as he quickly scanned the room.

"Y/n, I'm running late for work," Bradley exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency as he handed Michelle over to his roommate. "Can you watch Michelle for me while I grab my briefcase?"

Y/n, caught off guard by her friend's sudden appearance, quickly adjusted to the situation, taking Michelle into her arms with practiced ease. "Of course, Bradley," she replied, her voice calm and reassuring. "I've got her. Don't worry."

With a grateful nod, Bradley dashed back up the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house as he hurried to gather his belongings. Y/n watched him go, a fond smile playing on her lips as she cradled Michelle close.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/n soothed Michelle with gentle words and soft caresses, the baby content in her aunt's loving embrace. She hummed a soft lullaby, the melody filling the air with warmth and comfort.

Finally, Bradley reappeared in the kitchen, his briefcase in hand and a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you, Y/n," he said, his voice filled with gratitude as he leaned in to kiss Michelle on the forehead. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Y/n smiled back, her heart swelling with love for her friend and her precious niece. "Anytime, Brad," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "You know I'm always here for you and Michelle."

With a quick goodbye, Bradley rushed out the door, his footsteps fading into the distance as he headed off to work. Left alone in the kitchen with Michelle, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfilment wash over her. Despite the chaos of the morning, moments like these reminded her of the bond that held their family together, strong and unbreakable.

With Bradley gone and the kitchen now quiet, Y/n cradled Michelle in her arms, the baby's warm weight a comforting presence against her chest. As she gazed down at her tiny niece, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the innocence and beauty of this small, precious life in her care.

With practiced ease, Y/n reached for a bottle of warm formula, prepared earlier in anticipation of moments like this. She settled into a cozy armchair by the window, the morning sunlight casting a gentle glow over the room, and carefully positioned the bottle for Michelle to latch onto.

Michelle, ever the eager eater, eagerly accepted the bottle, her hungry suckles filling the air with a soft rhythm. Y/n watched with a mixture of tenderness and awe as the baby drank, her heart swelling with love for this little bundle of joy.

As Michelle nursed, Y/n gently stroked her soft cheek, whispering words of love and reassurance. She marvelled at the bond that had formed between them, a connection that transcended words and filled her with a sense of purpose and belonging.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/n and Michelle shared this intimate moment, the outside world fading away as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence. In the quiet stillness of the morning, surrounded by love and tenderness, Y/n knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And as Michelle finished her bottle with a contented sigh, her eyelids growing heavy with drowsiness, Y/n held her close, savouring the precious moments of peace and quiet. In these simple moments, she found joy and fulfilment, knowing that she was fulfilling her role as both aunt and caregiver with all the love in her heart.

With baby Michelle nestled in her arms, her tiny fingers curling around Y/n's, the aunt couldn't resist engaging in a little conversation with her niece.

"You know, Michelle," Y/n began, her voice soft and gentle, "we're going to have some special visitors later today. Uncle Bob and Uncle Jake are moving in with us for a while."

Michelle's bright eyes blinked up at Y/n, her small mouth forming a curious O-shape. Y/n chuckled at the adorable expression, feeling a surge of affection for the little one in her arms.

"They're going to be staying with us for a little bit while they get settled," Y/n continued, her tone warm and reassuring. "It's going to be so much fun having them around. They're going to make you laugh and smile, just like they always do."

As Y/n spoke, Michelle cooed softly in response, her eyes fixed on her aunt's face as if trying to understand every word. Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the way Michelle seemed to be taking in everything around her, her innocence and curiosity a constant source of joy.

"I think you're going to love having them here, Michelle," Y/n said, her voice filled with excitement. "They're going to be the best uncles ever, I just know it."

With a contented sigh, Y/n hugged Michelle a little tighter, feeling grateful for the bond they shared and the adventures that lay ahead with their extended family. And as she rocked Michelle gently in her arms, she couldn't wait to see the smiles and laughter that Uncle Bob and Uncle Jake would bring into their lives once they arrived later that day.

tagging: @callsign-magnolia @shanimallina87 @callsign-dexter @rosiahills22 @horseslovers2016 @djs8891 @hookslove1592 @emma8895eb @hardballoonlove @kmc1989 @dempy @mamachasesmayhem @senawashere @buckysteveloki-me @sweetwhispersofchaos @itsmytimetoodream @jessicab1991 @ahh-chickens

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Goblin/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,127 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

Ayo accidentally takes a potion meant for somebody else. It has unintended consequences, but it's not entirely terrible.

The summer morning greeted you with a gentle breeze across your face through the open window, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the shelves and jars of your apothecary. Today held the silent promise of goodness, the kind that made your heart light as you prepared to open shop.

With care, you began to sort through the commissioned potions for your clients; they ranged from simple herbal remedies to much more complex spells. The rhythm of sorting through the various jars was soothing, it was always your favourite part of the day.

Among them lay a potion due the next day, its contents shimmering with a rosy pink that caught the light just so. It was meant to grant poise and charm, just a little boost for a man who needed some confidence on a first date.

As the morning bustled on, the door creaked open to admit a new customer. A small goblin stepped over the threshold, a little hesitantly, as if unsure of the welcome he would receive.

You took in his appearance: mossy green skin dappled with little freckles, golden piercings glinting in his ears. He had his lip and eyebrow pierced too, decorated with little amethyst gems.

Despite his obvious shyness as he shuffled in, there was something about him that piqued your interest—an allure that you hadn't felt for a goblin before.

"I need some herbal remedies for a cough.” His voice was soft, almost tentative. "For my sister," he added quickly, as if eager to explain his presence.

As you nodded and turned to fetch the requested herbs; you could sense his eyes following you, a silent observer still. There was a gentleness to his demeanour that went against the ruggedness of his leather armour, which spoke of a life of survival… and solitude.

"You don't look like you come into town often," you ventured, hoping to coax him into conversation as you carefully selected the best herbs for a cough.

His chuckle was a quiet, nervous thing, but his grey eyes softened as you turned around to offer a smile. "Not much, no. The forest is more my home," he admitted, his gaze drifting towards the various bottles and ingredients lining your shop.

"Couldn't you find these herbs in the forest?" you inquired. "Most of what's here comes from the forest anyway."

He shifted his weight, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I'd rather trust someone who knows what they're doing," he confessed with a self-deprecating shrug. "I might end up picking the wrong thing. Poisoning myself wouldn't be too smart."

His admission brought a soft laugh from you as you placed a bottle of cough syrup alongside the bundled herbs on the counter. "Well, you're safe with these," you reassured him, meeting his gaze with a friendly smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

You noticed then, a subtle tenseness in his posture, the way his fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on his armoured thigh. It seemed like eagerness, perhaps an anxiety to return to the familiarity of the forest. "No, that's all, thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of relief.

As he handed over the payment, his hand lingered for just a fraction longer than necessary, leaving behind a tip that was more generous than usual. With a quick, nervous nod, he gathered his purchase and hurried out, the door closing behind him with a gentle jingle.

There was something intriguing about him, a pull that was unfamiliar as he vanished past the window. Your heart sank a little as you realized that in the rush of the transaction, you'd never asked his name.

Turning back to the potions on the counter, you hoped for another chance to see the goblin again, to learn more about him. That's when you noticed the gap where the emboldening potion had been. Your eyes widened in realization. Could he have taken it by mistake? Or… he had left so suddenly. Had he stolen it?

Without a second thought, you dashed to the door, flinging it open with the hope of catching him. You scanned the street for any sign of the goblin's mossy green skin or the glint of his piercings. He was nowhere to be seen. For someone of such small stature, he was surprisingly quick, or perhaps the forest had taught him how to disappear so quickly.

Frustration bubbled inside you. That potion was potent — strong enough for the troll it was intended for, not a goblin half his size. You bit your lip, mind racing… and concluded that all you could do was make another for your customer. You hoped the strange goblin would be all right.

You resigned yourself to getting back to work, letting the steady flow of tasks and customers occupy your mind, pushing aside the nagging worry about the misplaced potion. Potions were brewed, advice was given, and remedies were handed out with the same care and attention you always provided.

As the day wound down and the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, you began the familiar routine of closing up. Just as you were about to turn the sign to closed, the door creaked open, the bell chiming one final time.

"We're closed, I'm afraid," you called out, not looking up as you continued to tidy the counter.

"Oh, I’ll just be a second," came a familiar voice, but there was a lilt to it now, a smoothness that hadn't been there before. 

You paused and turned, your gaze landing on the goblin who'd entered your apothecary just hours earlier.

Gone was the shy man you’d seen this morning. In place of his hunter's leathers, he wore a simple black tunic that did nothing to hide the confidence in his stance. His smile was easy, his greyish-black eyes held a glint of mischief, and he moved with a fluid grace that seemed enhanced, almost exaggerated.

"I don't think I properly introduced myself earlier," he continued with a smile. “I’m Ayo. You are..?” His voice was a little too loud in the quiet shop, his smile a little too wide.

It clicked then—the emboldening potion. He must have taken it.

"Ayo," you repeated, allowing his name to settle in your mind. "You took the potion, didn't you? The one I had on the counter?"

His grin widened, not an ounce of remorse in his expression. "Did I? Well, that explains a lot. I thought it was a freebie. I quite like the effect."

You couldn't help but muffle a laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. “Not much to do except wait it out, I’m afraid,” you said, pursing your lips to keep from smiling. “It shouldn’t last more than six or so hours… though it was made strong enough for a troll.”

Ayo's confident facade faltered just a bit, the suggestion that this new version of himself was only temporary dimming the brightness of his smile. "Wait it out — but I'm starting to enjoy this new me.”

"Why don't you wait it out here?" you suggested, brows furrowed. "Just so I can keep an eye on any unintended side effects."

Ayo arched a playful eyebrow, considering the offer. "I don't know," he teased.. "I wouldn't want to impose—unless, of course, it means spending time with someone as enchanting as yourself."

There it was, the charm dialed up to its fullest, making it hard not to be swept away by the easy compliments. Yet, you caught yourself, a gentle reminder in the back of your mind that Ayo wasn't entirely himself. His bravado was just a side effect, not a true reflection of his feelings.

Finally, with a slight push from your rational side, Ayo nodded, conceding. "Alright, perhaps staying here isn't such a bad idea. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, under the circumstances."

You couldn't help but smile, even as you reined in the flutter in your chest. "I'll make some tea, then," you said, moving towards the small side room that served as a makeshift lounge for quiet moments like these.

Once you had brewed a calming chamomile tea, you handed Ayo a steaming mug and directed him to the sofa, plush and inviting in the cosy room. He settled in, the potion's effects making him appear more at ease, more at home than he probably should have felt.

You curled up in the armchair opposite him, tucking your legs beneath you. The room was comfortable, the air filled with the soothing scent of the tea, creating a peaceful bubble away from the world outside.

"So, tell me," he said, gesturing to the room as a whole. He had chosen to sit next to a collection of potted plants, so large that their leaves spilled halfway onto the arm of the sofa. “What's it like being an apothecary? Must be a fascinating job, mixing potions and all that."

You grinned. "It is," you replied. "There's a certain magic in helping others, even if it's just with a simple remedy for the common cold."

Ayo listened, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that left your skin hot. "I bet," he said with a grin. He had pointed teeth, you noticed, with delicate carvings.

The intensity of his stare made you shiver. To distract yourself, you downed your tea and stood to press a cool hand to Ayo’s forehead. “No fever,” you concluded. “That’s good. Do you feel unwell at all? Too warm or too cold?”

Ayo shrugged. “No. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time.”

You hummed in agreement, leaning over to grab a piece of aloe vera from one of the pots beside Ayo. Except in your closeness, Ayo’s warm breath against your skin felt amplified. He leaned up, dark eyes glinting, close enough to kiss.

Your heart raced, a part of you tempted to close the distance; but with a gentle firmness, you turned your face away, evading his advance. "Ayo, I can't," you said softly, yet firmly. "I won't take advantage of you."

“It’s hardly taking advantage, love.”

The pet name made your knees weak, and you bit your lip to keep from saying something stupid. Instead, you said, “if you still feel this way after the potion has worn off, then maybe I’ll consider… a date. If you’d like. Only once the potion has worn off.”

The look of disappointment that briefly crossed Ayo's face was unmistakable, yet he recovered quickly, his confidence unshaken. "Fair enough," he conceded with a rakish grin. "When this wears off, I'll take you up on that date."

“Good,” you replied with a grin. Settling back into the armchair, you drew a blanket over your knees, the soft fabric a small comfort against the evening's chill.

Ayo's gaze lingered, but he made no move to breach the distance you'd established. You were quietly grateful that at least the potion hadn’t completely ruined his inhibitions.

"At least the potion hasn't completely obliterated your sense of propriety," you quipped, sinking deeper into the blanket.

Ayo's laughter echoed in the little room. "Yeah, well, you say that… but it’s taking my entire self control to stay over here," he responded with a shrug and a smirk.

Flushing, you scrambled to grab the empty teacups. Mostly just to give yourself something to do other than flounder, you asked, “more tea?” Before he could answer, you were on your feet and scrambling to the little kitchen area next door. 

As the kettle boiled on the stovetop, you poked your head back into the sitting area. Glancing at Ayo, who seemed content on the sofa, an idea took root. 

"Would you mind staying the night?" you asked, despite the little voice in your mind arguing otherwise. "It's late, and I'd like to keep an eye on you, just in case the potion decides to throw us any more curveballs."

Ayo's agreement was immediate, his nod accompanied by a grateful smile. "Sure, I can stay. Tomorrow, we could go on a breakfast date.”

You hummed. “If you’re back to normal by morning.”

Deciding that the flat above the shop would offer a more comfortable place for Ayo to spend the night, you led the way upstairs, gathering blankets and a pillow to make up a makeshift bed on the sofa.

As you finished arranging everything and turned to bid Ayo goodnight, he caught you by surprise by standing on his toes and meeting your lips in a kiss. The initial shock had you stiffening, ready to pull away, but Ayo's whispered confession stopped you.

“I couldn’t resist,” he murmured against your lips. His breath tasted of chamomile tea and something you couldn’t place. Something sweet.

You knew you should have resisted, pushed him away, but you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you with such big, hopeful eyes, that confident smile still playing on his lips. And oh, those teeth!

Screw it, you thought. It was time that you threw caution to the wind. Without giving yourself time to doubt, you bent down and kissed him again. 

Ayo's lips were soft against yours, the kiss carrying a warmth that seemed to spread through you, chasing away the remnants of the day's fatigue. 

When you finally parted, there was a softness in Ayo's gaze, a look that made your legs weak. With a smile that held more affection than you intended, you whispered, "Goodnight, Ayo."

He blew you a kiss as you retreated from the living room. You waved back, hoping that tomorrow, Ayo wouldn’t regret this.

***

The morning light had just begun to creep through the curtains when you decided to check on Ayo, curious to see how he was faring after a night under the influence of the emboldening potion. Quietly, you made your way to the living space, expecting to find him still asleep on the sofa.

Instead, Ayo was up, in the midst of lacing his boots, a look of concentration on his face. The moment he noticed you, his movements halted, and a flush of embarrassment coloured his green cheeks. It was clear he hadn't intended to be found awake, let alone preparing to leave.

"I, uh, was trying to sneak out," Ayo confessed, his voice laced with a mix of sheepishness and something deeper, more sincere. "Didn't want to wake you."

The admission stung. 

Your expression must have betrayed your feelings, because Ayo quickly added, "Not because I regret anything from last night! It's just... that wasn't me. I mean, it was me, but not me. I'm not usually that bold, and I didn't want you to see me this morning and be... disappointed."

"You don't have to sneak away," you said gently, stepping closer, the hurt beginning to ebb away as understanding took its place. "I'd rather know the real you, anyway. Boldness isn't the only thing that's attractive, you know."

Ayo's gaze lifted to meet yours, a hint of surprise flickering in his dark eyes. You noticed him fidgeting slightly, a stark contrast to the smooth assurance he'd displayed yesterday.

Sensing his unease, you took a seat beside him on the sofa, aiming to bridge the distance not just physically, but emotionally as well. "About that breakfast date," you began, watching his reaction closely. "Is that still on the table?"

The effort Ayo made to temper his enthusiasm was almost endearing; the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, betraying his excitement despite his best attempts to remain composed. "If you're still interested, yeah," he said quickly. Too quickly. It was sweet.

In response, you reached out and took his hand. Leaning forward, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His skin was rough and warm. 

"I'd like to go," you said. "For what it's worth, I'm interested in getting to know the real Ayo, not just the version the potion showed me."

Ayo's enthusiasm was infectious, his smile making your stomach flip. "I can't wait," he blurted out, then quickly added, "Sorry, I don't mean to seem overeager."

You couldn't help but laugh. Not at him, of course, never at him. "It's okay," you assured him. "I'm excited too"

The idea of a breakfast date now hung in the air, a tempting prospect. Yet, Ayo, ever mindful of his responsibilities, hesitated. "I should probably check in on my sister first, let her know where I've been... and explain my unexpected absence."

With a nod of understanding, you stood up, closing the distance between you with a few short steps. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He was so much shorter than you, but you didn’t mind one bit.

"Meet me back here in an hour, then?" you suggested.

Ayo's smile was all the answer you needed. "I'll be here," he promised.

“Good.”

WIth one final kiss, you let him go. Last night had been… interesting; but you had the feeling that today would be even better.

[queenshelby]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MORNING

PAIRING: CILLIAN MURPHY X WIFE READER

WARNING: SMUT, CILLIAN WITH BED HAIR

IN HONOUR OF MY BEAUTIFUL FRIEND ON TUMBLR @forgottenpeakywriter HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE! I HOPE IT IS A GOOD ONE XXX

It was indeed a lovely, quiet morning in the suburban neighborhood - birds singing sweetly outside their window, a gentle breeze whispering through the leaves of the maple tree planted near their house. In such idyllic surroundings, you couldn't help but feel grateful for your life, and you were especially appreciative of your husband, Cillian who came back home early from his press tour just to spend your birthday with you. 

As every year, he woke up early, preparing your favorite breakfast for you – fluffy, golden-brown pancakes with a delicious, sweet syrup poured over them. You could smell them from a mile away and, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air as well, you stumbled into the kitchen, yawning. 

"Morning," you murmured as you rubbed your eyes, only just to notice your husband standing in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs, flipping the pancakes.

"Happy Birthday Sweetheart," Cillian smiled at you, sporting an unbrushed and rather messy head of hair.

He had just woken up fifteen minutes ago, but his gaze was warm and loving. It seemed that you hadn't aged a bit in his eyes – those deep, penetrating blue pools still sparkled with adoration whenever they rested upon you. 

"Thank you," you replied softly, approaching him and running your fingers through his tousled locks affectionately. "The food smells divine."

Your eyes met over the steaming pancake skillet, sharing a silent moment of tenderness and gratitude for each other.

This is what love felt like, you thought, as you reached out to gently stroke Cillian's cheek. The feeling of being wanted and appreciated by him, so far from all the worldly glamour, made you blush slightly under his gaze.

"Breakfast is ready," he announced cheerfully, lifting the skillet off the stove and placing it on the table.

In the dining room, you sat down facing Cillian, both of you savoring the first bites of your pancakes.

There was something undeniably sensual about sharing food together in silence, with the occasional clink of silverware echoing around the room. Your body relaxed, feeling more comfortable than ever in Cillian's presence. This intimate bond between you both transcended the materialistic world of celebrity affairs and awards ceremonies, connecting you to a deeper, more primal level of connection.

Finishing his last mouthful, Cillian stood up, grabbing the empty plate from the table.

"Why don't you open the birthday gift I got you?" he suggested casually, gesturing towards the wrapped package lying on the living room couch.

"You didn't have to," you replied gratefully, moving towards the present with curiosity.

Carefully unwrapping the colorful paper, you discovered a small, beautifully crafted jewelry box inside. Opening it, you found a gold necklace with a delicate charm hanging from it.

"It's perfect, Cillian. Thank you!" You leaned forward to place a tender kiss on his lips, feeling your heart swell with gratitude.

Cillian smiled, his expression reflecting a mix of satisfaction and love. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to give you something that means something, you know," he said as you read the engraving. It was a handcrafted necklace he had made especially for you and you appreciated the gesture.

"It's absolutely beautiful," you acknowledged before pulling him closer towards you as you slumped back against the sofa.

"But I already have something better," you murmured, brushing your lips against his neck, drawing a low moan from him. "I want you," you admitted in a breathy voice, tracing your finger along his collarbone.

Feeling the heat from your words ignite a fire within him, Cillian moved his hands towards the waistband of your pajamas, slowly working them downwards. As he exposed your bare skin to his touch, you could feel your pulse quicken, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Your hands, too, began to explore his chest, mapping out the muscles beneath his soft skin. Cillian was clearly excited as well, his own breath coming in shallow gasps, his fingers lightly grazing your skin, creating a delightful frisson wherever they touched you.

Slowly, he leaned in to capture your lips with his own, his passion burning hotter than the sun. With his tongue dancing seductively, he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies flush against one another.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the warmth of your embrace, creating an intoxicating mix that heightened your arousal. Your hands caressed his firm shoulders, trailing down his broad chest and onto his hard abs. With every subtle movement, your lips continued to explore his neck, leaving trails of desire behind. His touch became increasingly more possessive, his palms grazing the curves of your body, eliciting soft moans from deep within you.

As the passion between you two intensified, the air in the room felt electrically charged.

Your hands slipped further down, landing on his firm, yet smooth thighs. The feeling of his muscular strength underneath your touch sent waves of desire coursing through your veins. Meanwhile, Cillian was experiencing similar sensations, reveling in the pleasure of having you respond so fervently to his touch.

Gasping for breath, you both released each other for a brief moment, allowing your heavy breaths to slow. Cillian looked into your eyes, seeing the hunger in them mirrored in his own.

Without saying a word, he picked you up effortlessly, carrying you towards the bedroom. The room was filled with soft light filtering through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the couple. Your lips met again, hungrily consuming each other in a passionate kiss.

Your hands eagerly explored each other's bodies, finding hidden treasures, and eliciting soft groans from the other. Your clothes fell away in the heat of the moment, leaving both of you naked and vulnerable, yet strangely empowered.

"Fuck, you are so goddamn beautiful Y/N," Cillian murmured, his voice hoarse with desire as he traced his fingers down your arm, sending shivers up your spine.

"I must be the luckiest woman alive, having you as my husband," you replied huskily, your eyes meeting his in a fierce embrace of lust.

Your hands roamed each other's bodies, reveling in the newfound territory, each touch causing your hearts to race faster.

As you moved closer to the edge of the bed, Cillian carefully lowered himself onto his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a raw intensity in his gaze that spoke volumes about his feelings for you.

You watched as he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. The anticipation built up inside you, making your breath catch in your throat. Cillian took his time, gently kissing and nibbling his way down your body, teasing you with his expert touch. Each gentle caress sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your entire being.

As he reached your core, his fingers danced around the sensitive area, driving you wild with desire. His touch was gentle yet firm, leaving you aching for more. You gripped the sheets tightly, trying to hold on to some semblance of control amidst the overwhelming sensations.

"Fuck," you cursedout loud, unable to hold back the expletive as Cillian's tongue eventually began to swirl around your sensitive bud, driving you wild with desire. Your body shuddered involuntarily, and your hips bucked forward, seeking relief from the insatiable ache building within you.

His expert fingers and tongue continued to work their magic, stroking and teasing you until you were nearly on the verge of climax.

In response, you arched your back, allowing yourself to surrender fully to the powerful sensations coursing through your body. 

"Good god Cillian, that's it, I am cumming," you cried out, your body quivering from the intense release. The rush of pleasure washed over you, leaving you weak-kneed and completely sated.

Gazing down at you, Cillian couldn't help but feel pride and admiration for his wife. Your beauty radiated even more during these intimate moments, and he was forever grateful to share such experiences with you.

Bringing you close to him, he whispered tenderly, "I love you, Y/N. We belong together, no matter what life throws our way." Your heart swelled with happiness at hearing those words.

"We do Cill, we sure do," you murmured as your breathing returned to normal while your husband hoovered over you, aligning himself with your wet core.

"I want to make love to you forever," he said as, with one swift thrust, he entered you, causing you to gasp loudly.

"Yes. Fuck, yes," you cursed again.

The combination of pain and pleasure, his dominant and commanding manner, was utterly addictive. Cillian's hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding your movements in tandem with his own. His eyes held a mixture of desire and tenderness that made your heart swell with love.

With each thrust, the room seemed to fill with the sounds of your passion. Your moans echoed off the walls, amplifying the intensity of the experience.

Every thrust was met with a cry of ecstasy, your bodies moving rhythmically as if you and your husband were one entity. Sweat beaded on your brow, mixing with the remnants of the previous encounters. Your breathing became heavier, your body tensing in anticipation of the climax.

Cillian's face was a mask of concentration, his eyes locked with yours, sharing the journey of bliss. With each movement, his muscles rippled, testament to his strength and stamina.

You matched his pace perfectly, your own long limbs moving gracefully with each thrust. Your breath came in short bursts, your cheeks flushed, your hair tousled. He was so close now, his passion evident in his eyes, his body trembling with the effort.

In sync with one another, you both increased the tempo, driving towards your climax. Your heart raced in anticipation, the excitement mounting within you as your orgasm drew near. Your moans grew louder, intertwining with Cillian's.

You could hear the sound of flesh smacking against flesh, your bodies grinding together in a perfect harmony. You gripped him tightly, using it as leverage to pull him deeper into you. The world outside ceased to exist as you two were consumed by the passion surging between you.

As you neared the peak, your eyes locked with Cillian's, and the intensity of the connection between you only served to fuel the fire. In unison, you both pushed harder, your bodies straining with the effort to bring you both to the brink.

Every muscle tensed, the room filling with your combined cries of ecstasy. Together, you finally found the release you had been craving, your bodies shaking with the force of your shared orgasm as Cillian emptied himself inside of you. The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of your passion, your voices echoing off the walls.

For a few moments, you lay entwined in each other's arms, breathless and sweaty, still holding onto each other. Your chests rose and fell rapidly, your hearts racing.

The room felt warm and inviting, filled with the lingering echoes of your passion.

As you laid there, spent and content, you couldn't help but marvel at the intensity of your connection. Cillian smiled at you lovingly, his eyes full of admiration.

"This is something truly special, Y/N," he whispered, running his fingers through your hair.

You couldn't agree more. The bond you two shared seemed to grow stronger with each passing day, transcending beyond just physical attraction. This was a love that went beyond the superficial, reaching deep into the core of your souls.

After a while, you reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, knowing that it was time to get dressed and continue with your day. 

[taylorsv3rsion13]

we never go out of style || c.f.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

words : 2.7k

synopsis : things were always rocky for conrad and you. after the whole break up, will everything be the same the year later? or will it all turn to shit.

Every year since we were little kids we would celebrate mine and Belly's birthday. We were born on the same day, but a year apart. And it seemed to make us closer. Susannah would decorate the house and Laurel would make us pancakes every year and Conrad would draw a sun with syrup all over my pancakes. It was like a holiday for us.

"Happy birthday, sweetie!" My mom said over the phone as I was calling her.

"Thank you." I said, smiling.

"Okay, I won't keep you away for long, I know you're waiting for your pancakes." She laughed through the phone.

"Bye, love you!"

"Love you too."

I finished getting ready, putting on all of the makeup and jewelry I needed.

My outfit was normal, just wearing a teal tank top and a green cargo mini skirt.

As soon as I came out of the room Belly did too.

"You're looking hot." I said to her as we made our way down the stairs. She was wearing a floral patterned birthday dress.

"Morning!" We shouted in sync as we came into the kitchen.

Steven and Laurel were making pancakes, Jeremiah and Susannah were decorating, and Conrad looked like he didn't want to be there.

There were various smiles with "hey" and "Happy birthday!"

Susannah came to us first, hugging us, "There are the birthday twins!" She exclaimed.

Jeremiah hugged Belly as Steven hugged me, "Happy birthday." They both said to us before swapping.

"Belly Button's getting old finally!" I exclaimed as I gave her sixteen punches on the arm.

She was quick to return, hitting me even harder seventeen times as I screamed around the kitchen.

Laurel raised an eyebrow at us before giving us a group hug, "Happy birthday, beautiful girls."

"Did you call your mom?" Susannah asked as she plated some fruit.

"Yes, she was the first person I talked to."

"Your Minnie and Mickey Mouse pancakes are ready." Laurel smiled.

Belly looked at her mom for a moment, "I'm actually not that hungry..."

I looked at Laurel, "I'll take a pancake or two."

"Okay, how about presents?" Susannah asked.

"You're going to love mine." Jeremiah said, yet I don't know who he was talking to.

Conrad didn't say anything, eating his cereal in peace. He ignored me, but did wave hello to Belly.

Belly opened her present from her mom first. It was a beautiful book.

"It's a first edition. I got it from a rare book dealer." Laurel smiled.

We all noticed how Belly didn't have much emotion with the book, "Turn to the bookmarked page."

"That's the poem Susannah would repeat to us." I said, reading the page.

I grabbed the present that she had given me. I unwrapped it to reveal the most gorgeous cover I've ever seen on a book. It was Little Women.

"Oh, wow." I said, looking through the pages.

"Your mom said it reminded you of home."

I looked up to Laurel, "Thank you so much."

"Girls, open mine now!" Susannah squealed as she handed us our gifts.

Belly revealed a black velvet box, while I had a white one.

She opened hers, and a pearl bracelet was inside.

"Oh, wow." Belly exclaimed.

"These were pearls that my mom gave me for my sweet 16. Now Y/N, open yours."

I opened the box and there was a gorgeous pearl necklace.

"Those were also from my mom. She gave them to me when I was a debutante." She smiled as she admired Belly and I.

"Oh Y/N, I have another gift for you." Susannah said.

I looked at her, puzzled on why I would have two?

She handed me another box, this time it was a velvet red. I opened it and there was a golden chain with a sun in the middle. I immediately recognized it as a matching necklace, needing a moon on the other side.

"Isn't there supposed to be a moon as well?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe someone else has it." Susannah shrugged. "I just thought it reminded me of you."

Jeremiah jumped up, "Ooh! I'm next."

He handed us his somewhat neatly wrapped gift.

Belly was given a charm in the shape of a key.

"It's for good luck. So you can pass your drivers test." Jeremiah smiled.

I opened mine revealing a golden bracelet with a heart charm.

"Thank you so much, Jere." I smiled.

"Think fast Y/N!" Steven said as he threw a present at me. He also threw one at Belly. "Open them at the same time!" He urgred.

We both ripped through the package, opening and unfolding a Princeton crewneck.

"Oh my god you actually got in!" I exclaimed as I ran to hug him.

"No, not yet." He smiled.

Laurel looked at Steven, "I didn't know you were still considering Princeton?"

"Well I'll probably get scholarships and Dad said I could get some financial aid." Steven explained.

The room got silent and tension was high.

"Uh Conrad, do you have a present for Belly and Y/N?" Susannah asked.

He passed Belly a black velvet bag. She opened it, taking out a silver infinity necklace.

His attention then turned to me, "Sorry, I forgot."

"Oh yeah, don't worry, it's cool. I wasn't expecting much anyway." I smiled, trying to actually hide how I felt.

It did hurt. He remembered Belly's birthday, yet he couldn't even remember mine. Which was the same day.

There was a lot of tension in in the room as everyone looked at each other.

"Uhm, so I have to go. I promised Cleveland that I'd show him some knots today."

I watched as he got up from his seat and left. I didn't want it to affect me, but it really did.

"Happy birthday Y/N, and Belly." He said.

"Why don't we go practice driving?" I asked Belly, trying to take my mind off of things. "So you can drive us to get Taylor as well."

She squealed excitedly, "Yes!"

I got up from my seat, heading over to go out the front.

"Hey Y/N?" Susannah called out.

I turned to her, "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Of course I am." I smiled reassuringly.

I sat in the passenger seat while Jeremiah sat in the back.

She made a sharp right and we all went flying.

"Whoops." She laughed.

"Dear god, Bells." I said as I held onto anything I could grab on to.

The bus pulled up as we stood there, waiting for Taylor to come out.

"You excited, Bells?" I asked.

"Yeah." She said, but I could tell there was a part of her that wasn't excited.

"Twenty-bucks she's gonna call Jere, Jeremy." I said.

The girl emerged from the bus holding a handful of balloons and a bag.

"Oh, my god!" Taylor exclaimed as her and Belly ran to each other.

"Taylor!" I said as I ran to hug her.

"Here, let me take that for you." Jeremiah said as he took her bags.

Taylor smiled looking up at Jeremiah, "Thank you, Jeremy."

I laughed at Jeremiah as he just stood there smiling.

"So, should we head home?" Jeremiah suggested.

"Ooh, actually, let's make a stop first." Taylor said, making eye contact with Belly and I.

We sat under an umbrella as Jeremiah placed down a banana split with three spoons for us.

Taylor dug in first, "I would literally eat this every day if I could."

She also pulled out a gift for Belly. And another for me.

"Oh wow, these are cute." I said as I opened my present, revealing a blue bikini.

"I know right, it's hot." She said.

Belly opened hers and it was a white bikini.

"Y/N?" Taylor called out as we hung out in the pool.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Where's Conrad?" She asked.

"Oh, I don't know." I shrugged, swimming over to Jeremiah and Steven.

After a couple of minutes in out own little groups, Taylor suggested to play chicken, which we all agreed to.

"Dibs on Jeremy." Taylor smiled as she made her way to Jeremiah

"Oh, great, that means I'm stuck with Steven." Belly said sadly.

"Wait, what about Y/N?" Jeremiah asked.

Belly looked at me, "Oh, do you want to go on Steven?"

"No it's fine, you guys can play." I said.

There was a few complaints from Belly and Steven about being each others partners, so Taylor and Belly switched.

"Okay, three, two, one, go!" I yelled as they began fighting in the water.

The fight lasted less than a minute with Taylor and Steven falling into the water.

"Woo!" Jeremiah and Belly exclaimed in excitement. I gave them both a high five.

On the other hand, Steven and Taylor were bickering about who's fault it was that they lost.

"Hey guys!" A familiar voice said.

I turned my head around and Nicole was walking through with Conrad.

"Hey, Nicole!" I said.

"Hi. Happy Birthday you two." She said. "Are you guys playing.. chicken?"

"Yeah, it was Taylor's idea." Belly said.

"Hey, I'm Taylor." Taylor said from behind Belly.

Belly smiled, "She's my best friend from home."

"Yeah, I'm just visiting for the weekend." Taylor added.

"Oh, that's cute." Nicole said.

"Do you guys wanna play a real game?" I asked.

Everyone in the pool said yes.

Jeremiah had helped me set up the net and then the games began. I was on the girls side and Nicole and Conrad sat on the edge of the pool, dipping their feet in the water.

The boys groaned 'No!' as us girls cheered for our point.

We did a couple more rounds, as we all laughed a lot. This was definitely one of my favorite summers. Being with everyone, like nothing ever happened.

"You're not ready." Taylor smirked to Steven.

"You're on."

Taylor hit the ball, and it swerved, hitting Nicole in the head.

"Ow." Nicole said.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Steven said through in-between awkward laughs.

"Taylor." Belly said sternly before turning back to Nicole, "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry. You guys keeping playing." Nicole said to us.

"Feel better Nicole!" I said as she began walking back into the house with Conrad.

Conrad stopped in his tracks, just looking down at me.

"Have fun playing." He said.

Dinner was just as I'd imagined. It was gorgeous and vibrant.

Susannah had made the girls all flower crowns as well, for Midsommar.

I sat in between Jeremiah and Conrad again, but we added another chair next to Belly, because Cam Cameron was here!

Throughout the dinner, Jeremiah kept question Cameron, making fun of him almost.

Somehow Jeremiah got on the talk about kissing dead animals and then kissing Cameron, which made me kick him hard in the shin.

"Ow." He exclaimed.

"Oh shut up."

"I don't mind at all, in fact-" Cameron said as he kissed Belly on the lips.

I'm not even joking. All of our mouths fell open.

From beside me, Steven and Jeremiah both pretended to retch.

"If you guys don't shut up." I said loudly over their obnoxious noises.

It got into our embarrassing moments throughout our childhood at the Fishers as well, but Conrad stayed silent the whole time.

"Hey, I was thinking. Maybe we should go out to Nicole's party?" I asked

"Yes!" Taylor and Belly exclaimed at the same time.

Conrad's eyes met mine for a second before dropping. He didn't seem happy with what I said.

I laid on Belly's bed, staring up at the cieling.

"I think Conrad still hates me." I stated.

Taylor and Belly turned to look at me.

"Why would you say that?" Belly asked.

'I don't know. When I brought up Nicole's' party, he just seemed to go quieter than normal.

Taylor laughed a little, "It's fine Y/N. He's just a dumb boy either way."

I sighed knowing she was right.

"Look at us," Taylor said as we looked in the mirror, "We're hot ass bitches."

She was in the hot pink mini dress, Belly was in a knit crochet top with beige pants, and I was in a halter white and blue top with jeans.

As soon as we walked into the party, a man came down the stair banister, wooing.

And then to the right of the house was what I'm guessing was a dining room. Lot's and lot's of cakes and desserts with 17 and 16 candles.

"Y/N, you guys came!" Nicole's voice said as she made her way through people.

I laughed a little, "Hi, Nicole! You look gorgeous." I said, hugging her.

"Me? Look at you. You look like a goddess."

Nicole lead us through the house and they followed behind. Well everyone but Taylor. She had decided to find a drink for herself.

"Guys, look who's here." Nicole said to the girls.

Nicole began lighting the candles.

"Is this for us?" Belly asked.

"Who else would it be for, Belly?" Nicole asked with a smile.

"Thank you, guys." Belly and I both had said.

"Okay, well, girls, make a wish." Nicole motioned towards the two cakes.

The topic with the group got onto Conrad and how he was.

"He's not talking to anyone else. He's usually just to himself." I said

"Okay well new topic." Nicole said, not wanting to talk about Conrad, "Have you asked anyone to the ball"

"Oh, no. I'm waiting for the right person." I said, giving Nicole a smile.

I looked past Gigi who was saying something to Belly about asking Cam to the ball. Anywho, past Gigi was Conrad. He was messing with his hair and he was laughing and smiling.

I couldn't even lie. He was attractive.

He made eye contact with me as he drank a large part of his beer.

I couldn't like him again though. But there was part of me that knew it could happen again. Susannah told me to believe in second chances.

I don't know what happened really. I was just watching the boys play their little ping pong drinking game and then Belly came out all mad.

"Hey, can we leave?" Belly asked Cameron.

"Oh yeah, yeah." Cameron said.

"Y/N, you need a ride home? I don't want to take you away from the party." Belly said.

"It's fine. I'll give her a ride home." Conrad jumped in.

I looked at him questioningly, but he didn't look back.

"See you later, Bells!" I called out to her as she began to leave.

Jeremiah looked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Fill in for Cam Cameron please."

I rolled my eyes playfully at him, "Fine, scooch over."

After an hour or so, we all were ready to leave. By now I was drunker then I probably should've been. So drunk that Conrad had to help me to the car and into the car.

He sat in the drivers seat as I just stared at him.

"You're like the moon to my sun." I sighed, touching his hair.

He grabbed onto my hand, putting it back into my lap.

"Y/N, you're drunk." He said to me.

"Noo, you're drunk." I said to him, booping his nose.

I came down stairs the next morning. Jeremiah already in the kitchen, mixing himself up one of his smoothies.

"Hit me." I said to him as I groaned and propped my head on the table with my arm.

He laughed, splitting his smoothie with me.

"You drank a lot last night for such a small girl."

"I shouldn't have." I said, gulping down a large amount of the drink.

Belly came down the stairs soon, grabbing the box of cereal and pouring some in her mouth.

"I'm guessing you and tay-tay haven't made up yet?" I asked.

"No." Belly said with no emotion.

At the party, Steven and Taylor were making out and then Belly had walked in.

"You guys want to do a muffin run?" I asked.

"I'm always up for a muffin run." Jeremiah smiled. Belly also agreed.

"Can you get the keys from Conrad's room? Jeremiah asked.

I nodded, "Yeah sure. Is he home?"

"No, he dropped you off at home and then spent the night at Nicole's" Jeremiah explained.

"Oh um." I stammered, "Do you know where he keeps the keys?"

"Uh, they should be in his desk." Jeremiah said.

I never really was in Conrad's room often. But it didn't look much different than the last time I had seen it. It was obviously boat themed which was cute.

His drawers were messy inside. Nothing was organized and there were like 5 condoms.

There was also a black velvet pouch which I took out. Yes, I'm nosy, but I wanted to know what was inside.

I opened it and saw a moon bracelet.

I put the bracelet charm against my sun charm and it fit perfectly. What the hell was wrong with him?

When we went home, I drove Belly and Taylor to the bus stop.

I sat in the car with Belly as we watched Taylor wait in line for the bus.

"You're not going to say goodbye?" I asked her skeptically.

"I don't want to talk to her." Belly said, not making eye contact with me.

"Come on Belly, she's your best friend. She loves you, especially if she came out here just for your birthday."

Belly sighed, "Fine."

Once she came back in, she seemed mad, but I didn't care.

"I know i'm only a year older than you, but just take my wisdom for once." I joked, "Boys might come and go, but your best friend is once in a lifetime. You're lucky you have someone like Taylor. We never know what the future will hold, so you have to hold tight to that relationship."

Friends come and go. Boys come and go. But best friends stay. They're real. That's what I loved about the Fishers and Conklins. They were my best friends and they always stayed. Every single year.

[rachalixie]

a/n: wishing the happiest of birthdays to my love @sweetestcherrywine. i hope you have the absolute best day. you're my pillar, my comfort, my safe space, i can't even express how much i love you!!!! you're easily one of the best people i've ever had the pleasure of meeting. i'm sending you 10000 hugs and kisses and cuddles i love you so much

you wake to a hand gently brushing through your hair, fingers long and gentle as if handling something precious. he chuckles when you stir and nuzzle into his hand a bit. 

“happy birthday, my love,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. you crack your eyes open to see him, hair a halo around him, glinting golden in the morning light. the look he’s giving you is so fond that you need to look away as if he was the sun that you revolve around.

the day moves in frames, one scene after another, clicking in transition. him pulling you out of bed to drag you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth together. you’re making funny faces around the toothpaste in your mouths, painting an awfully domestic picture that you take a snapshot of in your mind to save for a rainy day. 

click.

you sitting up on the kitchen counter as he cooks you breakfast, pancakes dotted with tart blueberries. he almost burns one because he’s too busy slotting between your thighs to give you kisses, but he saved it right in time. he feeds you small bits drizzled with syrup and whipped cream, leaning in to wipe the cream off of the corner of your lips where it smears.

click.

him massaging shampoo into your hair as you shower together, the steam billowing around you, calming your muscles as his hands move down your neck, across your back, down, down down like the water flowing down the drain.

click.

him sliding a gift box across the table after you eat a candle lit, home cooked meal. it’s flat and long and artfully wrapped, ribbons swirling on the top and edges of the wrapping paper crisp and neat. you open it carefully, not wanting to ruin anything he’s done for you, even though the wrapping was made to be ruined. once you see what’s nestled inside the box, the wrapping paper is forgotten as it floats to the floor in favor of you gaping at the gift he’s given you.

it’s a painting in a simple brown frame, crinkled brown paper with lines of black and blotches of muted colors. it’s a swirling collage of pictures, all of two figures. two figures dancing, two figures kissing, two figures laying together, all interwoven between each other. each was lined precisely in black strokes, filled in with watercolor that’s flooding out of the lines. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“it’s,” he starts, knocking you out of your reverie. “scenes of us. of us falling in love. i painted it.” he says, blush high on his cheeks as he avoids your eyes. you realize you had been staring at the painting for too long, he didn’t even know if you liked it or not. 

“hyune,” you grab his face into your palms, moving his eyes towards yours and caressing his cheekbone with your thumb. “it’s absolutely perfect. i love it so much.”

his eyes turn into crescents as he smiles, cheeks moving under your palms before he leans in to peck you once, twice, three times. 

click.

him bringing you a single cupcake, candle glowing on top, the icing lopsided but you would never comment on that. the fact that it was so obviously homemade made you warm from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. he holds it still while he tells you to make a wish, eyes closed, and he doesn't know that you don't wish for anything because all you need is standing right there in front of you.

when you open your eyes, the tip of his finger is armed with a dollop of icing, which he wastes no time smearing onto your nose. he giggles and runs, leaving the cupcake in your hands, and later you're batting him away as he tries to lick it off of you.

click.

you standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as he makes his way to the rickety old record player in the corner of the living room and slides a well-loved record into the slot. the sun is setting outside, bathing the room in a orangey-pink glow, and you think this must be what heaven looks like.

“dance with me?” he says, holding out his hand to you for you to take like a prince. you grab and he twirls you around and into his chest, catching you when you stumble a bit. you lay your head there by his heart once you get your balance, and he wraps his arms around you, more of a hug than a dancing position but neither of you care as you sway together. he hums the song into your ear, low and deep, the melody of your favorite tune from when you were younger, and you want to stay in this moment forever.

click.

you’re sitting on the couch at the end of the day, happily exhausted with how well this day has gone. you never raise your expectations on your birthday, but he’s moved the bar just a bit higher than where it had sat before.

“hugs?” you ask, reaching both hands out for him and wiggling your fingers. he chuckles, smile bright as the sun, and grabs your hands. he pulls you off of the couch and turns you, making your head spin for a second before he plops down in the spot you were just occupying, you falling on top of him. both of your breathes whoosh out on the impact, and your breathy giggles harmonize with his as you wiggle to get comfortable. you’re left straddling his waist, your legs on either side of his thighs and your arms thrown around his neck. 

“i love you, hyune,” you say, nuzzling your head into his neck. “thank you for the perfect day.”

“oh, button,” he says, voice soft and deep in your ear. “i love you too. you mean the world to me. i would gladly do this every day if i didn’t think you would kill me.”

click.

—

soft hours

[kittyball23]

Hi is it okay if you write a story about baby branch and Floyd

It sure is 😊

Remember (a Trolls fanfic)

Dear Diary,

It’s been a pretty quiet evening at home so far, and I guess there’s a few reasons for that. For one, I guess it’s no secret that I’m the quietest among my brothers (they say I should assert myself more, but I find that I can’t - it’s just the way I am 0.0). Also, my older brothers aren’t here at the moment, and the bro that IS here is sleeping on my lap (it’s a little hard to write right now, but I can manage). I’m guessing you’re probably wondering where exactly my older brothers are. Well, John Dory is out running some errands with Grandma, so they’re hitting the grocery store and a few other places (plus, JD DID say he was going to try and get supplies for some new costume ideas he has planned for us and our band, BroZone).

Spruce is out on a date. He ran another one of his competitions, and the winner this time around is a girl named Doreen. I’ve seen her around town a bit, and she seemed very excited to be able to be with him. As for Spruce… I don’t think I could really say the same :( But, regardless, they were heading out to Senior Frosty’s. A lot of us like to go down there for some sweet treats (personally, I think Grandma’s stuff is the best, but they’re okay too ^_^). Spruce’s favorite is the Tropical Sunset sundae, which is an ice cream that I think is made from vanilla, with some kind of fruity syrup and chunks of pineapple on top. It sounds pretty tasty, but my personal preference is the strawberry delight (an underrated flavor, but delicious nonetheless!)

Clay headed off to another one of his sad-book club meetings. He’s sorta told me about them before, but I’m a little nervous to go to one, if I’m being honest. If it’s about sad books like he says, I’m probably gonna be in tears the whole time! I guess I’ll just have to make sure that I pack a lot of tissues when I do get the chance to accompany him :)

That leaves me and Branch, like I mentioned before. We had some fun with all kinds of activities around the house.

We frosted some sugar cookies that Grandma had baked earlier in the day (Branch got a little messy with the decorating, but he didn’t mind). We played some games (the usual - hide-and-seek, tag… freeze tag) and sang some of our band’s songs together. I’m very proud of him. Even though he’s only a couple years old, he’s got a great falsetto going. Golden! I can tell he’s going to be an amazing singer one day, and I can’t wait for him to start performing with us. John Dory thinks he’s ready, too. A few days ago, he actually suggested that we should start arranging for our first tour. Spruce and Clay agreed, and it’s going to be so exciting!

As Floyd tapped his pencil to his chin, pondering what to write down next, the light weight on his lap began to shift. He immediately put his journal down, and watched admiringly as Branch cutely yawned and stretched.

“Hey, Branch,” he cooed softly, stroking his brother’s delicate little cheek. “Did you have a good nap?”

The baby blinked up at him, rubbing the sleep out of his large blue eyes and grinning his sweet little one-toothed grin. “Uh-huh!”

Floyd chuckled and ruffled his rich blue hair. “That’s good.”

“What did you do, Floyd?” the small Troll asked curiously.

“Oh, I was just writing in my journal,” he said, showing him the book that he’d placed at his side.

“Ohhh,” Branch mused, cocking his head. “Can I see it?”

“Sure thing,” Floyd replied fondly, opening it up and allowing Branch to flip through the pages.

“I write all kinds of things in here,” the magenta-haired Troll explained while the baby stared in wonder. “Ideas, stories, wishes… but do you know what my favorite thing to write about is?”

“What?” Branch asked, his eyes twinkling with interest.

“All the stuff I do with you, and our brothers.”

“Wow! Really?”

“Definitely,” Floyd answered. “That way, when we want to remember something special, it’ll all be right here.” He gave him a little side hug that Branch happily leaned into with a giggle. Then, the little blue Trolling thought of something else.

“Do you write songs in there, too?”

Floyd nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Then he smirked. “But you know, I’ve been having a little trouble trying to finish the one I’ve been working on. Do you want to help me?”

His baby brother’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

And, as he and Branch made another cherished memory - harmonizing together and creating wonderful new melodies - Floyd made sure to recall every little detail of their experience so, in that way, he could notate it in his journal for them to always remember.