#'Excuse me did you just give me a stick with a blade on it?? Why?' 'Makoto thats a scythe for harvesting grains.' 'IS IT???'

[fuctacles]

<<😺😺😺😺 | 😺😺😺😺😺😺>>

if i didn't respond to your comment it's bc desktop tumblr didn't let me, I still love and appreciate y'all

Maybe tomorrow he'd bring his book here, and keep the cats company while he reads. Would they like it if he read it out loud?

Oh lord, the crazy cat lady energy must be rubbing off on him already.

The cats certainly are. He looks down at his black attire now speckled with cat hair, and sighs. He should have asked Steph where the lint roller was before she left. With great effort, he stands up from the comfy couch, vowing to himself to only do a cursory search with no unnecessary peeking. 

The entrance seems like an obvious start since people like to de-hair themselves before leaving the house. The dresser next to the door is cluttered with typical things - sunglasses, hand lotion, chapstick, some loose change, and jewelry. No roller in sight. So he goes to the kitchen instead, because kitchen is where everything goes. The cats are watching him curiously from their chosen perches around the house.

"Stop it. This is all your fault."

He finally finds what he's looking for on a windowsill next to a dead fly. He starts cleaning his clothes there, next to the fridge, and its colorful display catches his attention. 

There's an Ewok magnet that looks handmade, holding up a birthday card, and a few holiday photos, capturing smiling people in swimming costumes. Some of them look older, like the photo of a kid in a wizard robe, or a pair of bloodied-up teenagers in sailor costumes, which must be a very obscure reference because Eddie hasn't seen it at any costume party before. 

The caption under the photo reads BFF but someone added a circle of smaller F's all around the photo, turning them into a frame. Which, if Eddie's connecting the dots correctly, would imply that it's Robin and Steph. The quality isn't the best, but at first glance, he's assumed it must be a family member, maybe a brother, but he remembers her saying she's an only child. 

He tracks the other photos, but most of them are new, of the Steph he already knows. There might be more around the apartment, though. 

But he's already rolled his shirt and he'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, so he quickly works on his pants' legs, gives the cats a wave, and leaves. 

While walking back, he's apparently so lost in his thoughts, he gets startled by his own uncle.

"The cats still alive?"

"Do you want?! Me?! To die?!" Eddie screeches, eyes wide and a hand on his heart, the other holding him upright against the wall. "Why the fuck are you sitting there in the dark?!"

Wayne looks pointedly at the lamp next to him, then to his nephew. Aside from his reading nook in the corner though, the living room has no other light sources right now, but Eddie just throws his hands in defeat, deciding not to argue. Especially not when his uncle finally folded and was reading Blade Runner. 

"Must have been thinking some guilty thoughts, huh?" 

"Excuse me?" Eddie takes a step back from his course towards the kitchen. His uncle was flipping a page in his book, clearly not reading but not looking up from it either. 

"To get scared like that. Did you do something bad, son?" He finally looks up, and Eddie doesn't like it. He looks exactly like his friends just before teasing him about something. "Saw something you shouldn't have?"

Eddie folds his arms and sticks his nose up, hoping the evening darkness hides his warming cheeks. 

"I don't know what kind of panty raiding you do up there, but I'm not a pervert."

"Panty riding, huh?" Wayne raises his eyebrows in interest. "That what you boys do in college these days?"

"Do you want a sandwich? Some tea maybe?" Eddie has already turned his back to him and is switching the light on in the kitchen. "And the cats are fine, thanks for asking!"

"Yes and yes. Thank you!" 

Eddie prepares them sandwiches and teas and grabs his own book so they can read in silence waiting for the evening news. It's nice to have this, a break from busy and loud college life, just sharing silence and love for books with his uncle. 

That is, of course, until Wayne looks at his watch and puts the book down to exchange it for a remote. Eddie likes to keep his nose in the book until the news become too distracting or he catches something interesting being reported on. His uncle has other plans for him this time. 

"You know it's alright to like her, right?"

Eddie lowers his book, slightly incredulous that Wayne is still talking about it. He looks at him with wide eyes.

"You really want me to fuck your neighbor, huh?"

Finally, his uncle gets a taste of his own medicine, almost choking on the tea that he unfortunately decided to sip on at that moment. Eddie: one, Wayne: zero.

But later, the score evened out again, as all Eddie could think of while trying to sleep were the pictures on the fridge, and plowing his uncle's neighbor into her mattress until she screamed. 

The next morning, with not enough sleep under his belt, Eddie skips two sets at a time, because he totally absolutely royally forgot about the fucking plant. 

He fumbles with the keys, can hear the inquisitive meows on the other side of the door, and once he's in he takes a beeline to the kitchen, ignoring the little creatures following him like they have been starving on the streets and he was a fresh batch of tuna factory waste.

The plant looks normal, the same as it did 24 hours ago, and he waters it as per instructions while trying not to even brush its leaves because he truly believes his touch might kill it. His track record with plants indicates so. Only then does he turn to the meowing bunch at his feet. 

"Hello, little demons. Time to feast."

The cats are fed, their mouths making unpleasant wet noises against the equally wet food, and Eddie has a moment to take a curious walk around the place, in search of more photos.

He finds a wedding photo, with Steph in a pink dress and stunning make up dancing with a man with curly hair. There's one from a barbecue, where Steph is being hugged by a tall man with a mustache. She's wearing jean shorts and a sweater in this one, and somehow, looks a bit off. It looks older than the wedding one. 

But a true treasure chest is the huge frame he finds above a small bookcase.

It's a collage titled 'The fucking journey' that seems to be a collection of Polaroids from a multitude of workplaces, with the same two people present. Year after year, one job after another, until they got where they are today. 

It starts with a 1983 and the sailor costumes he's already seen. They are less bruised and more tired in this one. Knowing where to start, Eddie's eyes track from one photo to another, observing Stephanie's features, her wardrobe, and her hair change until she becomes the woman she is today. 

There was no boy in that photo on the fridge. It's always been her. Growing into herself. 

Is this what his uncle was talking about? Well, not talking, but being annoyingly vague about it, like he wasn't sure what he was talking about himself. 

Fear not, Uncle Wayne. Eddie's going to pick up every pamphlet and every zine he can put his hands on, to educate them both about who their neighbor is, how to navigate the topic and respect her the way she deserves.

ko-fi

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles

A/N: The original this sorta ties too: Original One Shot

>>Masterpost

Shovel Talks

Constantine swore up a storm of course only mentally. It wasn't like he was going to voice any of his thoughts right now. Not when he was faced with the good damn Ghost King. All he wanted was to summon one of his contracted demons to gather some information and what did he get the fucking Ghost King.

"Trench coat! We meet again. You worked on your manners, I hope?"

"Of course your majesty." Well he didn't but he avoided the freaking bats like crazy.

"Well I gotta thank you. Well you and my In-Law that's busy and asked me to substitute for your call since we meet and before and so on." The Ghost King casually waved his hand in a dismissive manner before looking around with his eyes sparkling in recognition and it sent a shudder down Constantine's back. "You are giving me the perfect opportunity."

Did… did the Ghost King just pull out a green glowing sword from a fucking portal and why did he have that glint in his eyes? Constantine paled. Why did this have to happen to him?

"If you will excuse me for a moment. I need to look for a Kryptonian real quick. I will deal with your problem right after. Promise."

With that the Ghost King phased through the floor apparently in search of Superman who just happened to be in the watchtower today. Fuck. Constantine run out of the room in mild panic and pushed whoever was on communication aside as he dialed for the bats. The moment someone on their end pick up he didn't bother to explain anything and just shouted for one of them to get their fucking ass here as fast as possible or superman was going to be history!

Okay that might also have sent the people witnessing his panic into chaos but this was a fucking emergency.

It was only minutes later that Batman did indeed arrived together with Nightwing and Red Robin with the Zeta-Tube at the watchtower to bear witness to Superman getting cornered by the Ghost King with Constantine bound by echo-bindings for apparently having annoyed the Ghost King with his pleading to spare the Kryptonian.

"Now I am sure I don't have to repeat myself but, IF you ever hurt Baby Bat a fate way worse than the Soul Shredder and the Nightmare Realm will be the least of your problems. The last guy that hurt my family is still in there and I will gladly make you permanently join him."

A cough resounded and Danny turned his head, a bright smile on his face as he spotted his little nephew and two of the little babies.

"Baby Bat, Baby Menace and Baby Stalker! I will be done in a little bit!"

"Ghost Ki-"

"Uncle Danny."

Batman let out a suffering sigh as Nightwing and Red Robin snickered.

"Uncle Danny. Why are you threatening Superman?"

"Because Jazz forbade me to use the Soul Shredder on humans but Superman is not human so I am allowed to use it on him."

"Uncle Danny, why do you want to use the 'Soul Shredder'" -as a joke Nightwing used air quotes- "on the him in the first place?"

"Shovel talk."

Batman chocked and Red Robin spluttered as Nightwing had a hard time suppressing a laugh. Constantine and Superman gapped at the Ghost King.

"You… are threading him for shovel talk purposes? What even is the nightmare realm?"

"A place you don't want to be in. Very traumatic and perfect to externally punish anyone that hurts my family in any regard as long as I am allowed to dump them there."

There was an added barely hearable grumble of "I would have sent the Joker and Ra's in there long ago if Clockwork weren't such a stick in the mud about keeping the timeline straight and their roles and bla bla bla."

Red Robin did a double take. Did the Ghost King just admit that he would have liked to sent their rogues into a place that was most likely hell? Wait didn't he mention sending someone in there permanently earlier.

No one noticed Superman slowly inching away from the blade still pointed at him while the Ghost King's attention wasn't on him. Well the bats noticed but didn't react to it, deeming it safer for the Super.

"Uh you said you dumped someone permanently in there?" Red Robin tried to keep the attention on them.

"Well yea." The Ghost King casually shrugged, adjusting the blade so Superman could no longer inch away from him. "I looked away from the Ice Mirrors for a week and someone dared to hurt Moma Bat. Of course I was enraged and snatched that guy off the street to permanently drop him in there."

There was a beat of heavy silence. Batman under his cowl bluescreened especially with how casually Danny just admitted at having snatched up his parents murderer to punish the man. Well that explained why he never found the culprit.

"Now If you excuse me little Babies I am gonna finish this talk with the Kryptonian and make sure he knows what will happen if he hurts Baby Bat."

With this the Ghost King turned back to the rapidly paling Superman with a feral grin. The Birds sweat dropped as Batman was still not mentally present, his mind still working through the information.

"Think I would be able to borrow that sword?" Red Robin suddenly asked as Nightwing eyed Batman worringly. "He only said that Great Grandma forbade him to use it on humans. He never said we couldn't."

"Don't let Robin or Hood hear that." Nightwing said, even if he wanted to borrow it himself too. With B mentally still checked out he had to act as the responsible one. That wouldn't stop him from asking their Ghost Uncle later if he could borrow the sword anyway.

[luvyeni]

hey hey ~ can I request a Chenle smut where him and the reader are enemies. The two of them always argue over the smallest things. She ends up texting her “sneaky link” a picture saying to come over, and it ends up being Chenle. Can hard dom Chenle make an appearance? 🫣 Something along the lines of “keep talking and I’ll give you something to cry about”

SNEAKY LINK; ZHONG CHENLE

pairings. enemy!chenle x fem!reader

wc. 1.1k+

warnings. facefucking , unprotected sex, degradation, ass slapping, hair pulling

i hope you like it <3 !

after accidentally texting your enemy chenle , he shows up at your door.

—

"she's such a bitch sometimes." chenle sat back in his seat. "she's also really hot." jisung didn't look up from his phone. "constantly complaining about something , arguing with me over the smallest things." he scoffed , his friend not even paying attention , having hearing the same thing for the 100th time. "it's not like you don't argue back."

"who's side are you on?" the boy finally looked up from his device. "im not anyone's side , it's clear that you guys fight over everything to mask the fact that you want to fuck each other." chenle stared at his friend , disgust displayed across his face. "never will i ever want to fuck her." jisung scoffed , "please , if she were to text you right now to link up and fuck , you mean to tell me you wouldn't get up and run to her apartment?"

just as he was about to curse at his friend for saying such things , his phone buzzed. "you're talking out of your ass again." he looked down at the message — what the hell did you want? he opened the message , hiding his phone , as he was met with your tits on full display , the message 'come over' right under the photo.

he knew this photo wasn't for him , but he saved it anyway , standing up , putting his phone in his pocket. "i'm going out." he said. "where." the boy was confused at his friends sudden departure. "something came up , bye." he walked out the door.

"why isn't he answering?" you looked at the message confused , you were in your best lace underwear , only covered by a sweater. "this is the number i always text him from." you weren't sure , you never saved soobin's number, never finding a reason to. there was knock on the door , and you smiled , getting up. "finally." you practically ran to the door , ready to pounce on him , swinging the door open — only to be met with the last person you'd expect to see at your door.

"chenle?" you said , annoyance laced in your voice. "what the hell are you doing here?" he smirked walking straight into your apartment. "excuse you , what the fuck are you doing?" he turned to you. "well you invited me , no?" he said. "why the fuck would i do that?" your attitude was starting to piss him off. "i mean." he trailed off , pulling his phone out. "you were the one who sent your tits to my phone , telling me to come over." you looked at the message.

"you know that wasn't for you , you and me both know i would never fuck you." he scoffed. "keep running that big mouth to yours." you looked at him , the look in his eye turned you on , the need to piss him off filling your gut. "what ? i'm just telling the truth." you teased. "it's not like you'd actually be able fuck me properly." that set him off , his tongue pushing against the side of his cheek , before pushing you against the wall — his hand coming up to your neck , shutting you up.

"you don't know how to shut the fuck up do you?" he snapped , squeezing lightly, you gasped lightly. "always running that fucking mouth of yours." he said using his other hand to unbuckle his belt. "maybe you should put it to better use — get on your knees." he pushed down on your shoulder blade , you obeyed getting on your knees.

"look at you , swearing at me just to be on your knees like a slut ready to put my cock in that mouth." his laugh — even though condescending , it made your panties wet , sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. "come on slut , take my cock out." he ushered you , you pulled his pants down , his bugle straining against his boxers , you kissed his clothed cock , pulling his underwear to his ankles , his cock almost hitting you in the face. "come on , i know your dumb, but im sure you know how to suck cock." he grabbed the base , slapping it against your lips.

"i'm tired of this , open your mouth , im gonna fuck your throat." you complied , opening your mouth , only for your mouth to be filled with his cock , thrusting. "sh..shit." he grunted , grabbing the sides of your head , fucking into your mouth. "i..i knew you were good for something -fuck- turns out it's being used like a fucking slut." he grabbed your hair , forcing you all the way down his shaft , gagging around him , drool coming from the sides of your mouth.

"so fucking nasty , look at you drooling like a brainless slut -sh..shit- im gonna cum." he roughly fucked your mouth a few times , before forcing his cock all the way in , his cum painting your throat , with a grunt. "took my cum like the true cumslut that you are , get up." he stepped out of his pants , grabbing your hair , dragging you to your room , throwing you down on to your bed.

"ass up , now slut." he got on the bed behind you , slapping your ass. "look at these panties , you were waiting to be fucked." you yelped. "n..no shit." he scoffed , slapping your ass harder this time , you flew forward a bit. "fu..fuck!" you yelped , he reached over , whispering in your ear. "next time you speak without me fucking telling you to, im gonna gag you , and use your body until im satisfied , you won't get to cum at all , do you understand?" he slapped your ass a final time. "fucking answer me slut."

"ye..yes , please fuck!" you were desperate to have him inside you. he pulled your panties down , your slick practically dripping down your leg. "look at you , messy whore." he pushed his finger into your fluttering hole. "fuck." you moaned , he thrusted his fimger inside you , adding another , stretching you open.

"making a fucking mess on my fingers." his words made you clenched around him. "pl..please , chenle , i need more. " he smirked , hearing you beg was like music to his ears. "begging now are we?" he pulled his fingers out , replacing it with his cock , slamming right into your waiting hole. "fu..fuck chenle!" you screamed , as he began moving his hips , his pace was brutal , he showed no mercy fucking into you.

"i fu..fucking figured out why you're such a bitch to me." he grunted , not stopping his pace. "because you wanted me to fuck you , ruin your pussy for anyone else." he pushed down on your back , hitting a new angle. "sl..slow down , im gonna cum too soon." you moaned. "you can cum , but im gonna use you until i can't anymore." he yanked your hair , as he fucked into you , the headboard slamming against the wall.

"che..chenle , fuck im gonna cum!" you screamed , your thigh shaking. "im cumming." he looked down a white ring forming around his cock , but that didn't stop him , he kept fucking you — you tried to move but he just grabbed your hips , pulling you back , forcing your head down against the pillow. "don't run , take it slut." he grunted.

"i told you im not gonna stop until i've completely ruin you for anyone."

©️LUVYENI

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 24 - june 30

note: welcome to the start of honey and trevor's very complicated relationship and some of my favorite subplots ;) we've officially surpassed the 100k mark for total words on this fic and we've got a while to go. apologies but also– this is the extended-extended cut !!

29:90 – TREVOR

They say you learn something new every day. 

Today, Trevor has learned that he should really check out the window before he walks outside in nothing but his compression shorts. He also learned that he should really do his laundry before he runs out of clothes– or that he should just steal clothes from Jack when he runs out of shorts. 

Why, you ask? Why did Trevor learn these tidbits on a Monday in Litchton, North Carolina?

Well, because on this particular Monday in Litchton, North Carolina, there are two girls laying in Trevor’s backyard. 

No one had told him that the girls were coming over. If they had, maybe Trevor would have stayed inside. Of course, that would’ve been hard with Honey just a hundred yards away in a bikini top, but he could’ve at least waited until his laundry was done. Honey has seen him in less than the compression shorts, but Bea has not. 

And Bea made Trevor’s outfit her problem as soon as she spotted him. She sat up from the flat deck chair that she dragged out from under the covered patio and whistled, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. Her hair is pulled up into a knot and she’s wearing a thin strip that is a sad excuse for a tube top. 

“Hoo-wee, Trevor!” She calls. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Trevor scowls, glaring at Bea from the side of his eye as he pulls on his skates and laces them. “Fuck off, Bea. I’m doing laundry right now.”

“And we’re honored, really,” Bea continues, sarcastic and biting. She folds her hands in a prayer in front of her chest and nods at Trevor, eyes wide. 

Honey giggles at her comment, leaning up on her elbows. Her hair is braided into two pigtails and she’s in a bright pink strappy bikini and her tiny daisy dukes that Trevor likes so much. She squints against the sun, one of her eyes completely shut under the shadow of her hand. 

Quinn uses his stick to pick up the wiffle-ball they’ve been using for their scrimmages and tosses it in a high arc towards Bea. It lands in her lap, resulting in an exclamation from Bea, and the girl hands the ball off to Honey. Trevor’s girl positively launches the ball at Quinn, a wicked whistle sounding as the ball makes its way towards Quinn and hits him in the stomach with a resounding thwap.

Quinn groans and doubles over, catching the ball in his palm before it drops to the ground. “Fuck, Honey.”

Honey just shrugs and closes her eyes, laying back down on the deck chair and covering her eyes with the bend of her elbow.

“Bea-girl, come play hockey,” Jack calls. “We need a sixth. You can be on the Hughes team. We’ll sub Luke out since you’re probably shit.”

“Hey, I was an athlete!” Bea exclaims. She stands up and pulls one of Quinn’s Bauer shirts over her head, tying the front into a little knot. “You have no idea.”

“No idea,” Honey echoes. 

Trevor looks at the girl and gives her a secret kind of smile, one that’s reserved specifically for her, but Honey doesn’t look his way. She’s still hidden beneath her elbow. 

“Come show us your athleticism then,” Jack challenges. “You don’t even have to wear skates.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we don’t have a pair of blades for a girl,” Cole teases, skating up to the edge of the rink and taking Bea’s hand to help her step over the wall.

“I hope you won’t go easy on me just because I’m a girl,” Bea replies, her steps careful and calculated as she makes her way onto the rink. She looks around like she’s sizing up the court, surveying end to end.

Luke skates up with an extra one of Cole’s sticks, handing the item off to Bea. He toes the ground with his skate and does a spin, circling around the girl. “I won’t go easy on you, Bea.”

“He’s only saying that because Jack kicked him off the team with his brothers,” Trevor warns. “He’s going to get you.”

Luke offers Bea a coy little smile and skates away, stealing the wiffle-ball from Quinn with an agile poke of his stick.

“First to 21, cornhole rules,” Cole tells Bea, skating up to knock shoulders with Quinn. 

“Cornhole rules?” Bea exclaims. “You fuckers think I want to play for that long? I came over here to tan and get laid before my work week starts.”

“Buzzy, just get in front of the goal and stop complaining,” Honey calls. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Exactly, Buzzy,” Cole adds, bouncing a little. 

Jack and Trevor meet at the center of their rink, knocking heads before pulling back and setting up for the face-off. They did it accidentally once when they were kids, then it became like tradition for their summer scrimmages. Luke holds the wiffle-ball with an ungloved hand, then drops it, and the boys fight for it. Jack wins and Luke is already blocking Bea from getting open, maneuvering around her easily in his skates. 

It quickly becomes evident that Bea will be no help to the team of the Hughes brothers, to the point that Trevor, Luke, and Cole don’t even need to defend against her. Even when Quinn sends her the ball, encouraging her to shoot at the open goal, she struggles with the stick.

“My sport didn’t have a stick,” Bea grumbles when she misses another pass and Luke scoops it away from her, flicking the wiffle-ball up so that it sails through the air and bounces into the opposing net. “If we played volleyball, I’d fuck you all up.”

“I’m sure you would,” Quinn commiserates, skating up to plant a slap on Bea’s ass. She snarls at him and spanks him with her stick in retaliation. He laughs and kisses her cheek, mid-game, then skates off to fight with Luke.

The game doesn’t make it to 21 points– well, technically Trevor’s team wins because he and Cole continue to shoot at the net after Bea quits. They’re maybe halfway through the game when she huffs and puffs and tries to step over the wall to exit the rink, but Jack skates up and wraps his arms around her middle. He carries her over to the center of the rink and sets her down, putting the stick back in her hands and reaching for a puck. 

“Pass with me, Bea. I’ll teach you so you’re not so shit next time we play, yeah?” Jack says, dribbling a loose puck between his legs. He’s just showing off now. 

“One sec,” Bea replies, turning around and settling her hands on her hips. She eyes Trevor, then beckons him over. 

Dutifully, Trevor skates over. He towers over Bea with the blades laced up around his ankles and it’s particularly satisfying to look down at her. That is, until Bea wraps her fist in the cloth of his shirt and tugs him down so his ear is next to her mouth.

“I know she told you about Thomas,” Bea murmurs, quiet enough that Jack can’t hear her. “And she’s embarrassed that you know, so she’s going to ignore you today, probably. You can’t let her push you away.”

Trevor pulls back, making eye contact with Bea. He’s sure he looks alarmed. He thought that Honey’s revelation would result in them getting closer, in her sharing more stuff about her life with Trevor, but he supposes he was wrong. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

Bea pulls him back down. “Let me explain it like this: do you know that tweet where that girl said ‘In order to date me, you have to defeat my seven evil exes’ or something?” 

She waits until he nods to continue. He doesn’t think he should correct her and tell her that the seven evil exes are actually from Scott Pilgrim, not some chronically online girl’s imagination.  

“Honey doesn’t have seven evil exes. She has one, but he fucked her over seven ways to Sunday, and she’s going to push you away a hundred times before she realizes her mistake. It’s just the way she acts. Trauma, and whatnot. Don’t fucking back off, dude. Your fragile little ego can’t be your priority here, not when you’re the first person that Honey’s been remotely interested in since Thomas ruined her fucking life.”

Bea pushes him away and Trevor rolls backwards due to the momentum. He’s nodding in assent, but Bea has already turned to Jack and reached her stick out to poke at the puck, which he’s doing a spectacular job of keeping from the girl. 

Trevor returns to his own shooting, aiming for the crossbar and hoping to deflect the pucks into the goal. It’s completely precision-shooting, although normally there’s a goalie’s big head in his way, hiding the crossbar from view. 

Quinn is passing with Luke, flicks of their sticks sending the puck from one end of the rink to the other without effort. Cole has completely abandoned the rink, opting instead to wander over to Honey’s chair and take Bea’s spot. He’s sitting with his legs stretched toward Honey, driving the blades of his wheels back and forth over her thighs. Honey is rubbing her face in exasperation, but she’s not pushing him away.

Trevor thinks she secretly likes the attention that the boys give her. They don’t flirt with her, which is great for Trevor, and she doesn’t want them to, which is even better for Trevor. He thinks that Honey enjoys having more friends than just Bea, even if she pretends to be annoyed by the antics of the guys. It’s easy and normal.

This same feeling washes over Trevor more and more frequently lately: that this would be a life where he’s perfectly happy. His whole life, he’s felt like he’s needed hockey. He made his friends through hockey, made his career by playing hockey, and enjoyed life because of his sport. 

Spending the summer in Litchton, even just so far, has taught Trevor that he would be fine in this life that Bea and Honey live. They go to work on the weekdays, they hang with their friends on the weekend, and they don’t get caught up in the outside world. It’s a nice life, simple and easy, and Trevor envies them a little bit. 

At the end of the summer, he has to return home to Anaheim, or maybe even to a new home if the trade rumors are anything to go off of. No one from Anaheim has called him to say that they’re considering trading him, so Trevor isn’t worried, but the whole world seems to believe he won’t be back. It would be harder to have to move away from Anaheim in addition to leaving Honey on this side of the country.

He’s mourning the moment already, he realizes. Lately he’s been filled with that painstaking dread that comes with having the best summer of your life and knowing it will just come to a close in two months time.

Not wanting to get caught up in his own thoughts, Trevor shakes his head. He leaves the rink and sets his stick against the edge of the house, sitting down in a juvenile plop like a child to unlace his blades. 

He remembers that he’s just in his compression shorts, and his laundry is probably finished, so he heads inside instead of going to kick Cole off Bea’s chair like he wants to. He’ll talk to Honey later. For now, he’d like to make himself decent.

Trevor gathers his dry laundry into a clump, holding it in his arms and hoping he’s not dropping socks all over the place on his trek from the laundry room to his bedroom. He dumps the load onto his bed and starts to fold the laundry, making a mental note to pick up the items he lost later. It won’t be the first time one of the boys let their laundry lay out until they went back to get it. 

He’s not even sure all of this will fit in his dresser, to be honest. At one point it did, but now he’s not sure. Maybe the drawers will just be overfilled and hard to shut. 

There’s a slight method to his madness, but it’s not all that real. He usually starts with the clothes that go in his bottom drawer, like his pants and shorts. He folds all of those up into a neat pile, then he starts on his shirts.

A timid knock reaches his door before it creaks open. 

“Hey,” Honey says. She holds up two fistfuls of laundry– mostly socks, but a pair of Trevor’s briefs are dangling from her hand. “You dropped some stuff.”

“Thanks,” Trevor said, gesturing towards the pile of unfolded laundry. “You can just toss them on there.”

Honey obliges, leaving the socks and briefs in a jumbled pile atop his other clothes. She then reaches for one of his shirts, lifting it into the air to smooth the wrinkles before folding it.

Oh. She’s staying to help him, then.

She adds to his pile, although she doesn’t focus on the shirts like Trevor does. She varies throughout and she’s not exactly shy when she picks up his underwear and folds it into a little square.

Trevor’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing at all. 

“Bea and Jack are hooking up,” Honey says eventually. 

“Oh,” Trevor replies. He’s matching up socks now, only a few left. He’s down to a bunch that don’t match, but he might just pack them away together and wear them mismatched. Cole has always loved a mismatched sock, but Trevor isn’t necessarily a fan.

“She thought of a solution for his, uh… lack of endurance,” Honey continues. She picks up the pile of Trevor’s shirts and walks over to his dresser, opening the drawer and setting the pile down, then pushes the drawer shut with her hip. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Sure,” Trevor says. He takes two ankle socks and folds them together into a little ball. “What’s she doing with him?”

“She’s setting a timer while he fucks her,” Honey explains, a devilish smirk growing on her face. 

Trevor balks. “She’s doing what?” He exclaims, jaw hanging open.

Honey’s smile only grows, delighted to get a reaction out of Trevor. “She’s timing him, and– and–” she waves her finger in front of Trevor’s face. “If he beats his personal record, then she’s going to give him a treat.”

“What kind of treat?” Trevor asks, laughing at the idea of it. 

Jack’s always been quick in bed– Trevor would know, after that failed threesome he and Jack considered back when they were on the same team– but Trevor never expected that to be a mainstay in his sexual life. He had hoped it was just once, or maybe just the first time Jack hooks up with a girl– allegedly, the boy “gets nervous.” It seems as though Bea is searching for her own conclusions, treating Jack’s incompetence as grounds for an experiment. 

Trevor will have to tell Bea that he likes how she thinks. Later, when she’s done– but probably after the girls leave. He’ll text her.

“I’m not really sure,” Honey says with a shrug. “I think she bought a pack of M&Ms to give him. Like she’ll give him five M&Ms if he beats his record– it’s a resealable bag of candy– and she’ll only give him one if he gets close but doesn’t beat it.”

Trevor feels like he’s floating with how ecstatic this news makes him. “She’s bribing him with candy until he starts lasting long enough,” Trevor summarizes, a crooked smile taking over his face. “That’s sick.”

“I know. She’s funny.”

A silence falls between them, growing more and more awkward with each passing second. Honey stands near the door, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her opposite tricep like she’s cold. 

Trevor puts the last of his clothes away, then turns to smile softly at Honey. “Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, well,” Honey says, sheepish all of a sudden. “When I saw all the socks and underwear on the ground, I thought you’d need it.”

Trevor nods, debating whether or not he should walk over and touch her the way that he wants to– but now that she’s shy and reaching for the door, he decides against it.

Instead, he turns to the dresser and finds a pair of sweats to pull over his compression shorts. The shorts are doing him no favors and he doesn’t need to embarrass himself by growing a little stiff at the thought of the easy domesticity he and Honey just experienced, folding his clothes together. He gets a flashing vision of Honey’s clothes sprinkled amongst his own, and Trevor turns to say something to her, but she’s already gone.

30:90 – HONEY

For the first time in a while, Honey gathers her knitting bag and sets out to open The Reading Nook. She’s planning to join the ladies at their knitting circle today and continue her big blanket. She only really knows how to knit squares and rectangles, despite Gillian offering to teach her time and time again. She’s made more scarves and blankets than she needs and usually donates them to the Salvation Army in Winston before the winter sets in. 

The Reading Nook is cold when Honey unlocks the door and steps through the threshold, which is fine by her. The ladies might complain, but Honey thinks it’s refreshing. She’s wearing a ribbed t-shirt, cropped close to the hem of her long skirt. It falls around mid-calf and she got it from the little thrift store down the street last spring. It’s green and floral with cream trimming on the bottom and Honey loves how it swishes.

She opens the store quickly. There’s not much to do during openings except sweep, but even that is barely necessary. Honey’s bored almost from the get-go, but the ladies start to file in just as the store opens. 

Rosalind appears first, with Scarlett and Vera not far behind her. Honey joins them at the table, sitting at the head of the long surface. She unfurls a little bit of her yarn and sets the skein on the table, adjusting in her chair to get down to business.

When Sacha and Gillian join their group, they’re delighted to see Honey at the table. Sacha kisses her cheeks and insists that Honey stays seated rather than standing to hug the woman. Gillian brought bagels, freshly made. She also brings cream cheese, which is “unfortunately store-bought.”

Honey supplies a fresh patch of blackberries, washed and dumped carefully in a little ceramic bowl that the ladies pass around. She got them from the fruit stand yesterday after she left the boys’ house, and although she had meant to ask Trevor if he wanted to ride in the car with her to the store, she never actually did. Instead, she just folded his laundry with him and they talked about Jack and Bea for a split second– it was the only thing Honey could think of that might get a reaction out of Trevor. He was so quiet the day before, but Honey also thinks she might be going crazy.

It’s been a long time since she wanted to hook up with a guy consistently and she feels seventeen again, toxic and overthinking each of her interactions with the boy. It’s the exact same behavior that she loathed so much as a teen, part of the behavior that she vowed to drop when she left Charlotte and moved to Litchton.

So, she left without inviting Trevor to the fruit stand. He must have forgotten that it was a Monday, because he didn’t show. Not that she was looking– she was in and out quickly, ready to go home and take a shower and go to bed. She had almost forgotten how Cole rubbed his grimy-ass rollerblades along her leg while she was tanning, but when she spotted the streak of dirt along her thigh, she was itching to get in the shower and wash it away.

The women gossip about sweet nothings– so-and-so didn’t show up to church on Sunday, this person’s cousin visited from out of town and treated the staff at Scruffy’s like trash (probably a side effect of when said cousin moved up north for college and they lost all their southern hospitality), and other small-town travesties that really aren’t so large in the long run.

The conversation veers toward the upcoming July 4th holiday and what Honey is planning to do– nothing yet, but probably the lake with Bea like every other year. The ladies ask about Bea’s birthday, which is coming up in about two weeks, reminding Honey that she has to go present shopping soon.

That conversation, devolving from Bea’s birthday into a scandalous tale of how Rosalind saw Bea and a “young brunet” walking down Main Street after church on Sunday hand-in-hand, turns toward the boys. 

Honey keeps her mouth shut as Vera raves about Cole, using her adopted nickname for the boy and gushing about how kind he is. She does not mention his evil streak or his annoying tendencies. 

Scarlett mentions that she had seen two of the others around, buying water tubes and toys a few weeks ago. Honey assumes she means Luke and Jack. Scarlett had not spoken to the boys, but she did think they were handsome, and she once again expressed that if she were younger and more available, she might try to scoop one of them up. Honey holds back a laugh at that, thinking that Bea is doing the exact same thing, but she’s scooping each of them. In another life, Scarlett and Bea are best friends who have a body count competition and, possibly, are sister wives.

No one seems to have met Quinn, although they’ve evidently spotted him when he’s with Bea, so Honey fills in a few of the blanks. 

Just as they get to Trevor, who Vera calls ‘Bear’ and speaks about with slightly less intense praise, the bell on the door jingles and they all have to shut up because their chatter seems to have summoned the boy.

“You all started without me?” Trevor asks with a faux-pout, crossing his arms over his chest pointedly at Scarlett. “After you taught me how to knit two weeks ago?”

“Well, young man, when you didn’t show up last week, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves!” Sacha exclaims, wagging a finger at Trevor like she’s actually scolding him. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a knitter,” Honey teases, a polite smile etched across her face. 

Trevor matches it and Honey doesn’t miss how the edges of his face soften when he makes eye contact with her. “I didn’t realize that you could’ve been teaching me how to knit all along,” he says. 

Honey rolls her eyes. “Yes, Trevor, because I have the patience to teach you how to knit.” 

She’s being sarcastic, a little mean even, just because Trevor’s face makes it so obvious how he feels about her. Ada punished Honey for being mean to him a few days prior, but Ada’s not here right now. The other ladies are and Honey doesn’t want them getting any ideas or spreading any gossip– Trevor’s features, all filled with admiration for Honey, are almost as dangerous as his words could be. There’s a chance that anyone who looks hard enough would be able to deduce that Honey and Trevor have a particular relationship and Honey is determined to keep that from happening.

It appears as though, yet again, Trevor doesn’t give a shit about her desired discretion.

“You left something at the house yesterday,” Trevor says. “I figured I’d bring it to you.”

Honey makes a face. “Did I? Maybe it’s Bea’s. I don’t think I left anything.”

Trevor shrugs, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I’ll just put it in the back room and you can look at it later.”

“You don’t work here,” Honey denies with a laugh. “You can’t just go in the back room.” She stands from her chair. “C’mon.”

She’s too busy leading Trevor to the back room to notice the self-satisfied little smile that grows on Trevor’s face.

When she opens the door and walks through it, Trevor follows and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. He takes his hands out of his pockets and he’s holding nothing– nor does it look like he has anything in his pockets.

Aw, shit. Honey realizes. I’ve walked right into his little trap.

She tilts her head to the side and takes a deep breath, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. “Don’t tell me that you’re only here because you wanted to see me,” she says.

“I wouldn’t say that’s the only reason,” Trevor says. He reaches for Honey and she backs up. He rolls his eyes and follows her forward, placing them back in the same position as they were two weeks ago. Honey’s back is against the counter and Trevor stands in front of her, arms on either side of her body, hands along the counter.

It reminds her of the whipped cream incident, which is not the thing to be thinking about right now.

Trevor’s smirking a little when she meets his eyes. “Hi,” he says quietly.

The change is so abrupt that Honey blinks in surprise. “Hi?” She replies, uncertain.

Trevor raises a hand and pushes a strand of Honey’s hair behind her ear. “I missed you.”

“You missed me.”

“Terribly.”

“And so you concocted a plan to get me alone?”

“Well, I knew Bea wouldn’t be in yet and those old ladies out there don’t need your attention,” Trevor surmises. He leans closer, whispering into Honey’s ear. “I need your attention.” He brushes a kiss against Honey’s earlobe before pulling away, smug.

Honey can feel her cheeks growing red. “You need my attention. Is that your way of saying that your dick is broken? Because I can refer you to the doctor– he’s just down the street.”

Trevor laughs out loud. “God, Honey, you never let my lines work, huh?”

“You need new lines,” she says. “It’s a shame these ones have gotten you this far. But, say what you will about Californians and puck bunnies–”

“Puck bunnies,” Trevor repeats, glee lighting up his eyes. “Have you been doing research, Honey? Been reading about hockey lingo lately?”

“No,” Honey denies, growing even more red. “Absolutely not.”

Trevor hums, clearly not believing her. “Okay.”

That’s all he says. Honey gawks at him. “What do you want?” She asks.

“I realized last night that I haven’t returned the favor yet,” Trevor says. “You’ve made me come twice and I haven’t made you come at all.” He frowns, hoping to draw her sympathy, but his eyes are still dancing with a little laughter and a lot of confidence. 

Honey’s mouth makes a little ‘o’ and she raises her eyebrows. Her head is tilted up, looking at Trevor from her smaller stature, and she fumbles a little when Trevor’s hands close on her waist. His thumbs stroke over her clothed skin and Honey allows herself to be pulled closer, or maybe Trevor just steps in and traps her against the counter. She can’t be too sure.

Until he lifts her by the waist and sets her on the counter, her long skirt folded underneath her. It’s too thin and Honey realizes that she’s a little warm and damp in her underwear just from Trevor’s proximity– yet another unconscious reaction that she’d put an end to if she could. How dare she grow wet from absolutely nothing.

“You want to know how I realized that?” Trevor asks, nudging her nose with his. 

Honey leans back before his lips can touch hers. “Realized what?” She asks, voice heavy. Her eyelids feel droopy, like when she and Bea booked a two-hour couples-massage two years back that was so relaxing that they both had to sit in the car and nap before driving back to the house. 

Trevor chuckles, just air leaving his mouth instead of real noise. His eyes are zeroed in on her lips, Honey notices, and she licks them because they suddenly feel very, very dry. “Realized that I hadn’t made you come yet, Honey. Do you want to know how I realized?”

“Um,” is the intelligent reply that Honey comes up with. She might as well be a PhD student when she comes up with a shrug, barely constituting an agreement. Trevor’s so close to her. She can smell him– she can’t place the scent, but she knows that Trevor smells rich. Like, money-rich, not strong-and-overwhelmingly-potent-rich.

“I was thinking about how delicately you were folding my laundry,” Trevor says. “At first. Then, I was reminded that your fingers once wrapped around my dick and made me come without any of our friends knowing. Your fingers looked so good around me, and I was thinking about how badly I wanted to see them there again…”

Honey lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wants to stare at Trevor’s eyes, but instead she’s drawn to the way his mouth forms his words and the tiny peeks of his tongue against his teeth as he speaks.

“Which is when I thought to myself, I haven’t shown Honey what my fingers can do,” Trevor continues. He licks his lips, then bites down on the lower. It’s a little chapped, maybe from sun. He needs to wear more chapstick. 

Honey’s chest is heaving, her stomach pushing against the band of her skirt in this position in an uncomfortable way. Maybe Trevor should just take it off. HUH? Nope, nope–

“So now I’m here, and I thought I’d tell you that you left an orgasm at the house because it’s stupid and I thought you’d laugh at me,” Trevor finishes. “And I know how much you like laughing at me.”

“Because I hate you,” Honey supplies, sounding entirely unconvincing.

“Duh,” Trevor agrees. “But I just can’t get enough of you.”

He noses at her nose again before his mouth seals over her own. He kisses her deeply, like she’s sinking into a warm bath after a long day, and Honey sighs against him. 

She’s leaning forward into him, touching his sides over his cotton shirt. Trevor’s hand is sliding over her cheek, the other bunching up her skirt over her knee so that he can get a grip on her skin. When she pulls away, he asks for permission.

“Can I make you come on my fingers, Honey?” Trevor asks, index finger toeing the line and digging a burning path into her skin as he runs it over her inner thigh. “Please?”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” Honey replies, pulling him in again. Her teeth knock against his when he laughs, but he wastes no time to flip her skirt up and reach his hand underneath the fabric. 

“Do I need to start saying “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” when I’m in your presence?” Trevor teases. “Just to keep up my good manners?”

“If you want to keep getting laid,” Honey affirms, practically spoon-feeding the words onto his tongue. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel the way Trevor’s smiling against her lips. 

“Oh, baby, I want to keep getting laid,” Trevor assures her. His fingers tap over her clothed mound, sliding his nail along the seam of her panties.

“Don’t call me baby,” Honey admonishes.

“What can I call you?” Trevor asks. 

“My name,” Honey answers. “Or ‘your Royal Highness.’” 

Trevor hums in acknowledgement, petting over Honey’s core. He’s still kissing her, just brushing his lips against hers in cute pecks that leave her whining for more and looping her arms around Trevor’s neck to keep him close. 

“Your Royal Highness sounds perfect,” Trevor mumbles.

“Would you hurry the fuck up and finger me already?” Honey berates, tugging the hair at the nape of Trevor’s neck. 

“Yes, your Royal Highness.” 

Trevor pets over her panties twice more, running his finger all the way from her slit to the patch of skin just past her clit, then he removes his hand. Honey nearly growls, but Trevor shifts his other hand under her skirt and uses both to pull her panties down her legs. He taps her hip so that she shifts on the counter, able to slide her underwear off and place them in his pocket for safekeeping. His fingers, callused and rough against her wet skin, spread her folds and rub over her entrance. 

Honey shudders, her mouth opening against Trevor’s when he presses two into her from the get-go, up to the first knuckle. She swerves his next kiss, gasping with her breath fanning across his cheeks and rolling her hips against his fingers. 

“Sorry,” Trevor whispers. He presses his lips to her cheekbone, further embellishing her blush with the sweet gesture. “We have to be quick. I have a feeling some old ladies might come looking for us if we’re gone too long.”

“Don’t talk about them right now,” Honey groans, patting her hand against Trevor’s hand with an ounce of force behind it. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Trevor agrees.

“Just make me come,” Honey bosses, sliding forward on the counter. She spreads her knees and Trevor steps closer, his fingers filling her up. His fingers are thin, and long, and Honey’s fingers are stiff with how tight she’s holding him against her. She moans aloud when the wide, bulbous second knuckles of his fingers work past her entrance, then slaps a hand over her mouth. It brings Trevor even closer, with the bend of her elbow securely against the back of his neck. 

He laughs at the noise, shushing her quietly. He brings his other hand up to her chin and meets her lips. “You make some pretty noises, Honey, but we can’t let anyone else hear them,” Trevor whispers like it’s a shared joke between them. “Those are just for me.”

“You wish,” Honey bites back, just as Trevor draws another noise out of her with a pointed stroke of his fingers. 

“Mmm, I do,” Trevor murmurs. “You feel even better than I thought you would.”

“Trevor.” Honey grinds against him, tugging at the chest of his t-shirt.

“So warm and wet for me,” Trevor continues.

“Maybe I’m not thinking about you,” Honey gasps out. “Maybe I’m thinking about someone else.”

“Doesn’t matter– no one else is here,” Trevor replies. “Just me and my pretty girl.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Honey corrects, feeling Trevor’s fingers prod at her in a way that’s making her teeter along the edge of an orgasm– the first orgasm she’s experienced with a man since Thomas, she realizes. Sure, she’s had them alone, but she’d forgotten how mind-numbingly good it was to relinquish control and let someone else bring her pleasure. 

“Exactly, my Royal Highness. Why don’t you focus on coming instead of bossing me around?” Trevor increases his tempo then, rubbing the heel of his hand not-quite over her clit, but close enough and with enough pressure to make Honey keen and arch her back into him. 

Her nipples are hard, practically poking through her shirt. The fabric of her top, against the fabric of his top, with the hard muscle of his torso beneath it sends a rush through Honey’s body. Her mouth hangs open as she comes, bouncing a little bit with quivering thighs on Trevor’s fingers to prolong the feeling that comes over her. Honey’s head lolls back against the cabinets, the knob digging into the skin at the base of her skull in an uncomfortable way. Normally, Honey would be bothered, but she can’t care less about the pain in her neck when Trevor’s fingers are still moving inside of her and his lips are molded against hers, swallowing each sound she makes. 

When she comes down, Trevor kisses her one last time and pulls her skirt back down. He reaches over and runs his fingers under the faucet, wiping them with a paper towel once he deems them clean enough. 

“Not hungry?” Honey asks, her vision a little blurry after squeezing them so tight when she came. 

“If you think the first time I’m going to taste you is by licking my fingers, you’re sorely mistaken,” Trevor chides. He draws her panties out of his pocket and holds them up. “Can I keep these?”

“No way!” Honey exclaims, a laugh escaping her. “I am not letting you keep my underwear, you freak. I’m definitely not walking around this store all day with no panties on, Trevor. Give ‘em back.”

Trevor just wiggles his eyebrows and bites down on the waistband of the panties, leaving them dangling from his mouth as he slides to his knees. He pulls Honey’s ankles through the leg holes, then releases his grip on the waistband to draw them up her legs. 

Honey shifts her hips again so he can pull them up, laughing as Trevor’s head disappears and makes a lump under her skirt. She pops him on the head like a Whack-A-Mole and Trevor lets out a little “hey!” when she does. 

Just before he retreats, he pats her hips goodbye and brushes a kiss against her clit. Honey can hear him whisper something under his breath before he kisses there again, then he pulls her skirt off until his head is free. He smiles up at Honey, that same stupid smile on his face, and the dipshit has the nerve to wink at her.

“You are such a loser,” Honey tells him, exasperated. Once he’s far enough away, she slides down from the counter and onto her feet. 

“Mmm, you like it,” Trevor says, leaning in to kiss her again, but Honey just pushes him away.

“Get outta here,” she commands, trying to hold back a smile and failing. She pushes him to the door and he stumbles through it, laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” Vera asks, pausing her knitting.

“Trevor thinks he’s got jokes,” Honey says with a frown, her palms pressed against the small of Trevor’s back as she pushes him towards the entrance to The Reading Nook. He does not make it very easy for her. She’s able to wrench the door open and use her shoulder to push him out of the building, which makes him laugh again. He waves goodbye before he walks away.

After returning to the table, a lethal eye roll on Honey’s face in plain view for all the women to see, Scarlett speaks up. “What did he give you?”

“Nothing but grief,” Honey says with a nod and a huff of annoyance. “Here’s your scoop for the gossip circle, ladies– that boy is nothing but a loser.”

She’s overplaying it, but he really is. She just hopes that her voice doesn’t sound as fond about his loserish tendencies as the pitter-patter of her heart makes them out to be.

Honey returns to her own project, head down and avoiding the eyes of the ladies. They certainly have more questions, but Honey will not entertain the teases that these women are capable of. She already gets teased enough, even if their statements are made out of love and belonging.

The bell jingles above the door again and Bea walks in, sipping at the straw of her coffee. Later, when she goes to assemble her lunch on the counter, Honey is going to have to politely steer her towards the table. Then, Honey will have to explain why Bea can’t make her lunch on the counter until after Honey cleans it, and then they’ll squeal in the back room until Ada pops her head in and tells them to quiet down.

For now, though, Honey just wants to sit with her secret and feel her lips buzz with the mesmerizing phantom press of Trevor’s.

31:90 – TREVOR

Trevor doesn’t wake up to an alarm. He set one, he did, but instead, he wakes up to text after text from Bea.

what time are the guys leaving today

is quinn getting his haircut before or after he leaves

why aren’t you awake yet

when is the flight

which airport are they flying out of???

where are the awards again?

trevor get UP it’s almost 9 and i actually went to work on time today i’m BORED

oh and another thing

don’t think we’re not having a conversation about how you fingered honey on MYYYYY counter

with the ladies in the next room over?? you are an exhibitionist and i do not like the bad influence you have on honey

my workplace should not be brought into your sexcapades IDIOT

omg WAKE UPPPPPP

trevor

trevor

trevor

trevor

trevor

trevor

She’s still typing when Trevor finally wakes up and grabs his phone, irate and ready to chuck it across the room so that he can get that last twenty minutes of sleep before Quinn says it’s time to head to Charlotte.

will you stop by the nook before you leave so i can say goodbye

The thin line of Trevor’s patience finally snaps. He clicks through his phone, clicking on the blue number under Bea’s contact and bringing the phone to his ear. She picks up on the fourth ring and Trevor doesn’t let her take a breath before he snaps at her. “Give Quinn your fucking phone number so you don’t wake me up with a shit ton of pointless messages, Bea McLean.”

He’s pissed off and the girl has the nerve to laugh. “At least I got your attention.”

From a distance, Honey voice reaches the telephone. “Who is that?”

“It’s Trevor.”

“Oh.”

Trevor shakes off Honey’s “oh” as best he can. He’s hoping that her face conveyed more excitement about Trevor’s presence on the phone than her voice did. 

She seemed to like it when he fingered her on the counter. She was just as sassy as always, something Trevor wouldn’t trade for shit, and he cataloged every second of it for later– later, as in, when he got home and wrapped the same hand that was inside of her around his dick and stroked himself to a very quick release.

Trevor speaks again. “Why are you so against giving him your number?”

“Not him, dummy. If the other boys catch wind that I gave him my number, they’ll start demanding it.”

“The other boys?” Trevor asks.

“Jack.”

“Yeah.” Trevor pauses, rubbing his hand over his face. “So you need us to come to your work so you can give Quinn’s hair a goodbye kiss?”

“Tell him he’s not allowed in the store,” Honey says.

Trevor assumes she’s joking, but if she wasn’t, he’d be mad that she said that. He knows what Bea said about her one hundred attempts to push him away, but that’s just plain mean. What if he wanted to read a book? Would he have to send Cole to pick it up for him?

Luckily, Bea has Trevor’s back. “You didn’t seem to mind him being in the store yesterday.”

At the same time, Trevor doesn’t want to push his luck. Sometimes, with Honey, it seems like he goes one step forward and two steps back. He doesn’t want to give her a reason to pull away from him. “Tell her I can stay in the car.”

“What if I don’t want you to stay in the car? What if I want all of you to come into the store so Quinn and I can have a quickie in the back?” Bea asks, her tone pointed not at Trevor, but at Honey, who Trevor assumes is still hovering in the background. 

“In public?” Honey exclaims.

“As if you’re any better,” Bea says.

“Can you focus on me for a second? I don’t want to talk to you any longer than I have to,” Trevor says, speaking up so that Bea certainly can hear him. He snaps his fingers next to the speaker for a couple of seconds just to annoy the girl. “We’re headed to the Charlotte airport in like ten. I don’t think we have time to stop by and see you.”

“Well, how early will you be?” Bea sasses, a frown evident from the tone of her voice. “At the airport.”

“Q is on Dad Mode and wants to go two hours early.”

“Tell him that’s fucked. And then tell him that I’ll be mad at him if he doesn’t see me before he leaves.”

“Didn’t you come over yesterday and take a nap with him?” Trevor pinches his bottom lip and speaks through the muffle. 

Bea hums over the phone, high-pitched and obvious. 

“No one wants to hear about that,” Honey admonishes. 

“Go away. I’m talking to Trevor.”

“You’re barely talking to Trevor!” Trevor snaps. “You can’t just send me twenty texts and then talk more to Honey than to me–”

“So you’re jealous…”

“I want you to stop annoying me. Give Quinn your phone number–”

“That’s not going to happen…”

“And get out of my business!”

Trevor pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up. He tosses it with a loud clatter onto the floor and experiences a brief moment of reprieve and silence before someone in the kitchen hits the ceiling with the broom. He bets it’s Cole. He recently watched the episode of Friends where Mr. Heckles died and he’s starting banging the broom against the ceiling “in memoriam” of the side character. 

Trevor rolls out of bed and pulls on a shirt, swapping his boxers for a new pair and pulling his jeans on. 

When he walks down the hall, he bangs on Luke and Quinn’s door. “Bea says she doesn't give a shit if you're late to the airport, she wants to say goodbye before your stupid haircut,” he announces through the wood of the door, hoping that the boys are doing their normal last-minute packing. He’s proven right when a muffled “okay” comes through the door and Trevor retreats, but not after he tells the boys that they’re leaving in five minutes and they’d better be in the car by then, or Trevor will make sure they never make it to the award show.

They don't make it to the car in time and, although he’s annoyed, Trevor’s threat was an empty one. He already abandoned Quinn in Charlotte once and he thinks Quinn might kill him if he pulls the same thing (but opposite) a second time.

Both Trevor and Cole tag along for the ride to the airport. They take Trevor’s car and the two non-Hughes ride in the front seat. The short ride to The Reading Nook reminds Trevor why they don’t normally allow the brothers to ride together in the backseat– because they’re annoying. Luke wasn’t even helpful this time– the mediator of the family refused to sit in the middle because his legs are too long, which left Quinn or Jack to take the middle and Quinn outright refused, despite being the shortest. 

Trevor can’t believe they have to drive all the way to Charlotte with the Hughes brothers in the back. It’s no wonder their parents bought a car with a third row and banished Jack to the “way-way back.” Trevor is considering trading his car in for Quinn’s rental car on the way out of town– the third row would give him reprieve. There’s only so many times Cole can turn up the music to drown out the brotherly bickering before the stereo is turned to maximum volume. 

Jack spills out of the car when they make it to The Reading Nook, barely letting Trevor shift the car into park before he’s climbing out and spreading his arms wide just because he can. He does the same with his feet, standing wide and starfishing vertically in the middle of the sidewalk, his head tilted back and eyes closed. There’s no regard for the passersby, nor for the brothers that are climbing out of the car after him.

Luke reminds him of his existence quickly with a sharp pat to the back of Jack’s head, knocking his hat off and taking it with him into the store. Jack chases after him, the front bell ringing as they barge through the door and disturb the quiet atmosphere of the Nook that Trevor has come to enjoy.

Cole and Quinn follow behind the boys at a normal pace and Cole holds the door open for Quinn, who gets an armful of Bea as soon as he crosses the threshold. 

Trevor watches from the car, true to his word. He catches Bea’s million-dollar-smile (her words, not his) as she throws her arms around Quinn’s neck and automatically intertwines her fingers in his hair. She blows a kiss at Trevor when she sees him, barely looking past Quinn to acknowledge the boy before she turns back to the man she’s all over. Trevor can’t see Quinn’s face, but he can imagine the content on Quinn’s features as Bea fusses over him and ignores the other boys.

Cole eventually makes his way into the store as well, leaving the door to close behind him. Trevor sees his own reflection against the glass, then turns back to the wheel.

He runs his fingernails along the stitching of the wheel. He goes around the whole circle, then traces the logo in the center of the wheel over and over. Eventually, he tires of that, and closes his eyes. He leans back against the headrest and plans the week out in his head– today, the Hughes boys leave. Tomorrow is the award show, then on Friday, Cole wants to bust out the hot tub since they haven’t used it yet. The boys come back on Saturday morning, filling the house again. 

Trevor has two days of peace. He’s happy for Quinn and Luke, nominated for the Norris and the Calder respectively, but he can’t wait to get some peace and quiet. If he’s lucky, Bea won’t bother him until Saturday when the boys get back.

His eyes are still closed when the passenger door opens and someone shuffles in. Assuming it’s Cole, or maybe even Luke, Trevor keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t acknowledge them.

“I wasn’t serious, you know. You’re allowed to come in the store.”

Trevor startles at Honey’s voice, his hands accidentally making contact with the horn and honking it. When he looks at her, she’s smiling, and he blushes.

“I wasn’t sure,” Trevor replies. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

Honey stares at him, unimpressed. “You fingered me in the back room of my work with the ladies in the other room and then asked to keep my panties. You’re either at zero or one hundred, aren’t you, Trevor?”

Trevor smiles, a little sheepish. “So you liked it?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip after the question leaves him. One of his hands rubs over the hem of his shorts, fingers dipping under the fabric to toy with it. 

Honey hesitates, tapping her finger to her chin and looking up at the ceiling of the car to delay her answer even further, but Trevor knows that she’s just doing so to get on his nerves. “You were fine.”

“Fine?” Trevor demands. 

Honey shrugs. 

“You’re a dirty liar, Honey,” Trevor says. “I made you come in minutes and I barely touched your clit.”

“That was your problem. It could’ve gone faster.”

Trevor’s jaw is slack, then he laughs a little. “So you didn’t like it?”

Honey shrugs again, but there’s a little smile pulling at her lips. Trevor takes that as a good sign.

“You’re being mean to me when we both know that when I fingerfucked you, you couldn’t stop moaning for me,��� Trevor says with an ounce of pride leaking into his statement.

“Just because you and I were the only two people in the room doesn’t mean I was moaning for you. How do you know for sure that I was thinking about you? I believe I brought this up yesterday, too.” Honey raises her eyebrows like a challenge.

Trevor leans into her space, over the center console. His elbows dig into the barely-cushioned leather and he knows his eyes are half-lidded from the way Honey leans back and tilts her chin up, appearing unaffected by his movements. She never falls for his sultry, go-to flirtatious expressions. “You definitely weren’t thinking about what would happen if we got caught,” Trevor says. “And who’s to say I would’ve stopped even if we had?”

Honey purses her lips, eyebrows turned down as she presses her tongue to the back of her front teeth. She stares at Trevor for a moment, evaluating him, then she turns and lets herself out of the car. She slams the passenger door in Trevor’s face and stomps toward the entrance of the store. 

Trevor rolls down the window and calls after her. “Too much?”

“You’re really banned from my store now,” Honey replies, not turning to look back. She wrenches the door open, bell jangling merrily in sharp contrast to the scowl that Trevor is sure adorns her face, then slams that behind her.

Within a minute, the boys shuffle out of the store awkwardly and clamber into the car. Jack ends up in the middle seat again, waiting for Quinn to climb in after him. 

Quinn hesitates before getting in the car, reluctant to let go of Bea’s hand. Trevor watches as he gives her a soft little smile and mumbles something before leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

Bea nods and puts her hand in his hair again, tilting his head down so she can kiss the brown mess. Then, she squeezes his hand and wishes him luck. She peers into the car. “You too, Lukey. Good luck.”

Quinn lets her go, then climbs into the car. Bea shuts the door for him, then waves goodbye. She turns and walks back into the store, and not five minutes later, Trevor gets a text from the girl.

thank you good sir i’ll make sure honey doesn’t ban you entirely

Then, another few minutes later, a picture of the front window of the shop that now hosts a “No Trevors Allowed” sign in the bottom corner of the window. Trevor saves the picture to his phone with a little smile. Honey’s dramatic. He likes her so much. 

32:90 – HONEY

Honey was hoping that with Quinn, Luke, and Jack gone for the next few days, she’d be free to sit at home and ignore Trevor’s looming presence. She could start her newest book– a romance, because she’s had a desire to read something trashy lately. She could bake something, or keep working on her knitting, or just go to bed early and rest. 

But Honey should’ve known that that would be too much to ask. 

Bea wants to watch the award show and she wants to watch it with the boys, since her libido has increased by leaps and bounds since she started hooking up with people regularly again and Cole’s the only boy left in town. Honey is sure that Bea will put him to use over the next two days. 

Honey tried to hide in the Nook again before closing, but she failed for a second time. She likes to think that she can outwit Bea, but the girls know each other so well that neither of them can get very far into something secret without the other finding out– or finding their hiding place. Next time she wants to avoid hanging out with the boys at Bea’s request, she’ll just ask Ada if she can leave early. If that doesn’t work, she’ll just escape when Bea isn’t looking and skip out on the end of her shift.

What’s Ada going to do? Fire her?

The worst part about Bea dragging Honey to the boys’ house is that Bea walked to work and Honey had only enough gas to get home before filling up the following morning… so she had to fill up her tank and Bea did not offer to pay, although it was her idea to go to the rental house in the first place.

Now, Honey is sat between Bea and Cole with a full hand of Uno cards, trying to shield her cards from the prying eyes of the blond boy on one side and ignore the girl on her other. Trevor is sat on the loveseat, flicking through the channels before finding ESPN and tossing the remote onto the table before them. He’s got his own hand of cards, but he’s left them out on the table for everyone to see. Bea has been reaching over and plucking his worst cards out of the pile on his turn. She’s also been working overtime to make sure Trevor receives every +4 card that she can find.

“When does the show start?” Bea asks, reaching forward to spread Trevor’s cards out even further.

“Seven,” Trevor replies, checking his watch and sounding bored. He hugs a pillow against his chest and yawns. Instead of returning to the game of Uno, he keeps his eyes on the television and lets Bea do whatever she wants with his cards.

Honey frowns, but then focuses back on her cards. She bats Cole away, then picks one of her cards and lays it down. She covers her hand, hiding it from view, and looks at the television. 

The announcers seem to be discussing various sports, just talking back and forth about stats and statistics. A lot of it is focused on hockey, with the awards coming up, and Honey raises her eyebrows when she sees a clip of Quinn hitting an opposing player, rocking the guy and spinning in a one-legged circle with the momentum. Other than the spin, he barely moved on the ice. He didn’t stumble at all from the weight of the other man crashing into him. 

Honey finds herself nodding at the sight of it, as if in a trance, then she shakes herself out of it. She returns to the Uno game, catching a side eye from Cole that was much too obvious to be a serious action as she reviews her cards.

Bea wins the game, because of course she does. She and her family are by-the-rulebook Uno players, so Bea almost always wins just by her sheer knowledge of what you can and cannot do in the game. 

Honey also thinks she might just be a very convincing liar.

Before they know it, the announcers are signing off for the night and ESPN is segueing into the NHL Awards. There’s impressive animations on the channel, clips of the players that are tastefully thrown together by the production team, and a live look at some of the families walking down the carpet. 

Honey is more excited about the creation of the broadcast than the contents of the broadcast itself, if you can’t tell. 

Bea slams the pack of cards on the table just as the cameramen start to show players and their guests. 

“Wow, they’re a gorgeous couple,” Bea marvels, drinking in the mint-colored suit and dress on a pair. 

The woman is blonde with some of the longest, possibly heaviest earrings Honey has ever seen and the man has a bright smile. His cheeks and nose seem a little sunburnt, but only in a way that glows. 

“That’s one of the guys Quinn is up against,” Trevor says.

Bea immediately frowns. “Then I hate their outfits and any talent he possesses,” she gripes, crossing her arms over her chest. 

She holds that position until a man with a mustache comes on the screen wearing the most jarring outfit Honey has ever seen. Whoever styled this man did not realize they were styling a premier athlete– they were told that his aesthetic was Cape-Cod Grandmother. Honey hopes that’s the case at least– she’d never get over it if this was the man’s actual style.

Bea agrees, speaking as if she can read Honey’s thoughts. “Holy shit, Emily Gilmore,” she breathes out.

Cole chokes on his yawn, whacking himself on the chest as his breath stutters. He looks up at the TV and starts laughing, rolling on the couch and clutching at his stomach. His face is contorted like he’s miserable from laughing so hard, growing red in the face. 

Trevor casts him a glare, bewildered. “Who’s Emily Gilmore?”

The way Trevor says her name sends Cole into another fit of giggles and Honey can barely suppress a smile. The boy’s smile is contagious.

“She’s, like, an old money Connecticut grandma,” Bea exclaims, grinning wildly as Cole chortles. “It’s from a show. What’s so funny, Co-Ca?”

“He’s making the Leafs look fucking stupid,” Cole forces out between laughs. He gulps down a few deep breaths to calm himself, then giggles again. 

“You’re lucky the Hughes boys didn’t hear you say that,” Trevor says. “You know how they hate when you poke fun at their childhood team just because they’re your rival.”

Bea shushes them all. “Speaking of the Hughes!” She points at the TV, eyes glued to the screen. She won’t even blink. 

Honey shakes her head fondly, then turns to catch what Bea’s looking at. 

She sees Luke first, with a sleek black suit and a tie that Honey can’t quite decide the color of– beige? gold? tan? Regardless of the color, it looks good on him, adding a pop of color to the outfit that’s just classy enough on Luke to not be overkill. He’s smiling wide, looking charming at the camera. Honey has never seen him turn on the charm like this before– but it’s impressive. He looks at home, even though once his smile fades between photos he looks back to his normal self. Maybe it finally set in that he was at the NHL Awards and that he’s nominated for once, not just attending with family. Honey hopes he’s not too nervous.

Quinn is next, looking mature in his black suit with the black tie. Whereas a colorful tie helped Luke out, color would just distract from the pure confidence Quinn exudes. He’s walking around like he’s already won the title of Best Defenseman, smirking at cameras and fixing his jacket. His hands go in his pockets after that and Honey admires his belt, a smooth black leather with a silver buckle. They’re simple and he looks smug, almost, in the outfit.

Honey looks over at Bea, who is biting the side of her bottom lip. 

She returns to Quinn. She notices that his hair was cropped much shorter, to an almost corporate length. Honey recalls the first time she met Trevor, when he said that all the buys were business partners. Quinn could definitely pass as an executive of a company, raking in the big bucks in a high-level office. 

“Has he always had that scar on his cheek?” Honey asks.

Bea shakes her head, still facing forward. “He just got it this past season, during the playoffs,” she tells Honey before Trevor or Cole can supply the information.

Jack isn’t shown right away, which is kind of disappointing for Honey. She would’ve liked to see all the boys right away. Honey leans forward to grab a handful of pretzels from Cole’s bowl of snacks. She catches Trevor watching her out of the corner of his eye when she sits back on the couch. She frowns, then chews a pretzel.

“Has their mom always been that gorgeous?” Bea asks, sounding awed. 

Honey looks to the TV and catches a blonde woman in a loose white shirt and black pants, looking delighted but reserved on the screen. Honey can imagine her as someone who would bake some brownies as a housewarming gift for her new neighbors upon their move into the neighborhood. Her hands are aged with love and although there are lines starting to peek at the corners of her eyes and cheeks, Honey immediately has nothing but respect for Mrs. Hughes.

She’s standing with an older man and Jack, holding onto the arm of Mr. Hughes with a casual intimacy that Honey audibly murmurs at. Mr. Hughes is smiling, close-lipped but proud as his sons join them. 

“She has Jack’s smile,” Bea says softly, sounding touched. “That’s so special.”

Speaking of Jack, Honey admires his outfit. He’s wearing a steely, almost metallic-iron suit with a black button-up beneath it. His suit wouldn’t be so eye-catching if he were wearing a white button-up, plus it would wash him out. He’s not wearing a tie, which makes him stand out, but his only problem is that Honey wishes he had taken more time with his hair. It doesn’t look as good as she knows it can, which is frustrating. 

The camera cuts away from the family after they catch that initial shot, so Honey loses the boys. Bea sighs at the same time, laying back as if she can bury herself between couch cushions. She frowns at the loss of the Hughes brothers and Trevor chuckles out a little laugh. 

“You know you get to meet them for Fourth of July,” he mentions, smirking at Bea.

The girl’s expression drops with her jaw, her eyes flashing. “What?” She asks, blinking rapidly. She sits forward again. “His parents are coming for the Fourth?”

Trevor laughs sharply and nods. “Yeah, Quinn didn’t tell you yet? They decided to come last week. They said the Michigan house seemed too empty this summer without them.”

Cole jumps in. “Plus, once they heard Jamie got invited on our ‘top-secret-vacation,’ they didn’t believe the excuse that we wanted to be alone this summer,” he laughs. “But you can’t really complain when Ellen and Jim are around. That reminds me, we have to find a new golf course for when Big J comes.” He’s speaking solely to Trevor and Honey rolls her eyes at the nickname– Mr. Hughes must hate it when Cole calls him ‘Big J.’

“Why didn’t you guys tell me sooner?” Bea cries, throwing her hands up. She runs one of her hands through her hair, gathering it out of her face. She ties her hair up with the elastic on her wrist and fans herself like she’s sweating. “I can’t meet their parents when I’m fucking all three of them.”

“Four if you count me,” Cole adds. “I’m like their adopted son. I’ve met their grandma and she loves me.”

Honey laughs aloud at that.

“All grandmas seem to like you, eh, Coley?” Trevor teases. “Vera loves you more than anyone else in Litchton.”

“Oh, God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “You can never bring him to Knitting Circle.”

Everyone grows quiet for a second and Honey seems to realize what she said. She laughed with Trevor.��

Noooooooooo–

“Has Trevor gone to Knitting Circle with all the old ladies?” Bea asks, giggling. She looks elated to have found yet another thing to bother Trevor about and Cole looks mildly interested, a smile growing on his face. 

“You know how to knit?” Cole asks, poking his tongue between his teeth and sticking it out at Trevor with a crinkle of his nose. 

Trevor shrugs. “I needed a hobby for the summer. I was bored and stumbled on it one morning. Honey hates it when I show up.”

He looks over at her, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a tiny nod. His lips quirk, but barely.

Honey suddenly realizes that he’s staying true to his promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone. She doesn’t know why she doubted him, except for that flower incident outside the fruit stand, and she feels like it’s unbearable to look at him any longer. She blinks quickly and wrenches her gaze away from him before she can do something stupid like smile.

“Maybe I have to come to Knitting Circle,” Cole threatens, smiling wildly. “I have been looking for something to do this summer.”

“No, you can’t come,” Trevor says. “It’s my special thing.”

“Yours and Honey’s special thing,” Cole groans. “That’s not fair. Why do you want to exclude me so bad?”

“It’s not a Trevor and Honey thing,” Honey insists. “He just shows up and I have to be there because I’m the only one who shows up to work on time.”

“Not true!” Bea denies, upset. “I showed up on time yesterday.”

“And that was the first time since…?” Honey asks, reaching over and pinching Bea’s thigh. 

Bea bats her hand away and pouts, curling up into a ball on the couch. She’s still sitting upright, but she nestles herself in the corner of the cushions and the armchair, her knees pulled tight to her chest. She steals Honey’s blanket and wraps it around herself. 

“Shut up,” Bea says. “The show is starting.”

Honey returns her attention to the screen and the group of four grows quiet. Bea audibly coos and pinches her fingers at the TV when she sees all three brothers sitting on a couch together. 

The foursome doesn’t talk much throughout the show– Trevor and Cole make a few comments about the attendees, explaining who they are and why they’re important to the girls. Bea makes a comment about the announcer, about how she doesn’t like his jokes. Honey just shrugs, but she silently agrees. The attendees just look uncomfortable when he talks, especially a younger looking boy with brown hair. 

It takes a while for the awards to actually get going, but Luke’s is one of the first. Honey is surprised to know that he’s in his first year in the league. When she was watching their scrimmage the other day, pretending to tan while Trevor pranced around in his little compression shorts, Luke seemed well-practiced and mature when handling the puck. 

She supposes it makes sense– he’s had twenty years of puck-handling under his belt. The boy could skate before he could walk and had a stick in hand like a silver spoon when he was born. All of the boys did– not that it’s a bad thing. They’re lucky that they love hockey so much– it’s their destiny.

Bea stands and shrieks at the television when Luke doesn’t win the Calder Trophy, waving a finger wildly and stomping her feet with a frown. She had the same reaction when she would attend Honey’s softball games and the umpires would make a bad call. It makes Honey laugh.

The boys try to explain the voting system to Bea, as well as Luke’s stats. Bea doesn’t care.

“It’s unfair is what it is,” Bea says petulantly. “Who is this Connor Bedard kid anyway?”

That makes Trevor laugh, tossing his head back. “He’s a first overall pick and he got to enter the minors in Canada a year early because he’s just that good, Bea. Luke wasn’t going to get the Trophy, but it’s an honor to have been nominated. There are a lot of rookies in the league. Luke is top three– that’s sick.”

“Luke is top one,” Bea insists. 

Trevor rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

Bea nods, satisfied with Trevor’s cession. She makes little comments here and there about each person on the screen, each winner of each award, and even continues to gripe about the announcer. She’s surprised to see celebrity announcers on stage who reveal the winners of the trophies. 

Finally, it’s Quinn’s turn, and Bea shushes everyone, even though she was the only one talking. She sits forward and folds her hands together, her fingertips pressing against her bottom lip. Her eyes are trained on the screen, drinking in the introductions and smiling a little when they show Quinn’s image in the corner of the screen.

“C’mon, Q,” Cole breathes out, anxiously biting a hangnail on his thumb. He waits with baited breath, as does Honey. Trevor pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and middle finger and stares at the TV.

The pause between the announcers’ words seems to stretch eternally. The celebrity announcers do not speak in unison, the girl hesitating when the boy lags behind, making the announcement frustrating for Honey. 

When they announce Quinn’s name, Bea jumps to her feet and screams, bouncing up and down. Cole joins her and they bounce around the room hugging and cheering while Quinn accepts his award. Bea reaches for Honey and pulls her into the circle, while Trevor laughs from his loveseat and tries to focus on Quinn’s speech. In celebration, Bea kisses Cole’s cheek, Honey’s cheek, and Trevor’s forehead, collapsing across his legs and grabbing his wrists to clap his hands together in applause. She pinches Trevor’s cheeks too, then holds her hand out flat in front of his face.

“What?” Trevor asks, clapping his hand down on hers and dapping her up. 

Bea drops his dap and flattens her hand in front of him again. 

Trevor goes to spit his gum out in her hand, but Bea wrenches it back. “Ew!”

“What?” Trevor repeats, laughing.

“I need your phone,” Bea tells him. 

“Why?” Trevor asks.

“I want to call Quinn and congratulate him,” Bea says.

Trevor rolls his eyes. “He won’t be able to talk to you until later tonight. The show’s going to last for a little while, then they have to do photos after. You’d be better off calling him tomorrow. Can I interest you in putting his number in your phone?”

Bea pushes Trevor’s head back so it knocks against the cushions, then climbs off of him. She pulls on his belt loops until he’s teetering on the edge of the couch and kicking his legs out to get Bea to let go. “Give me your phone or I’ll beat you up.”

Trevor laughs, so Bea pops him on the hip with a sharp hand. He winces at that and shakes her off. “Dude, you can call him later. Get off me.”

“Yeah, Bea, leave him alone,” Honey says. 

“But I want to call Quinn to tell him how pretty he looks,” Bea whines, pouting.

“Call him later. Trevor can text him and make sure that Quinn calls when he’s back at his hotel room. Right, Trevor?” Honey says. She turns to the boy, who is situating himself on the loveseat again. He looks surprised that Honey addressed him, but pleased nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’ll shoot him a text now,” Trevor says, nodding along at Honey’s suggestion.

She wants to roll her eyes at how willing he is to text Quinn when she says it, although he would have continued to fight Bea as long as she kept pestering him. He dutifully pulls his phone out of his back pocket and taps away at the screen, eventually locking it and putting it away. He smiles at Honey when he’s done, but she only catches it out of the corner of her eye. She’s turned back to the TV by now.

The night passes with little more interest, except for the boys. They nod along with most of the remaining winners, unsurprised by the award recipients. Bea and Honey play Uno again between themselves and Bea wins for the millionth time. Honey asks her to play pool, which she won’t because she doesn’t want to lose, but Cole does. Bea eventually takes Trevor’s phone with a “hi, Q-baby!” and heads upstairs with it, squealing excitedly into the phone. Trevor joins the remaining pair at the pool table, perching himself upon one of the saddle-stools and watching Honey playfully tease Cole throughout the loss. Cole demands a rematch, which Honey grants him, and after he loses that round, Trevor grabs his own cue and proposes a game of 9-ball.

They play a few rounds, the game much easier given that there are so many fewer balls on the felt. Honey wins a few and so do Trevor and Cole, but no one is keeping track. No one is updating the board. They’re just having a good time– and it’s a night that Honey knows she’ll remember for the rest of her life. 

33:90 – TREVOR

It feels like as soon as the girls leave, they’re back. Bea might’ve slept over, to be honest, but Trevor doesn’t know. He knows Honey left because she never made it to his bedroom (and yes, he did go looking for her). 

But now she’s back to soak in the hot tub with them, since Cole mentioned uncovering it last night and Honey said Bea would like that. She brought Bea with her, obviously, although Trevor would have liked to see just Honey. 

On the bright side, he has a plan to get Bea out of the picture– Quinn did an interview today for the Four Nations Face-Off, since he was named to Team USA, and Trevor expects Bea to be very interested in how his hair looks after he hasn’t showered in a day. She’ll be even more interested to hear about how the brothers went gambling and they had to sneak Luke in since he’s under the legal limit. He’s actually ready to hand over his phone and allow the girl to disappear if it means that he can have Honey alone– Cole is the only other person he needs to take care of.

That shouldn’t be hard. All he has to do is keep feeding Cole beers and the boy will grow tired sooner rather than later. Trevor actually already started the process– Cole’s been drinking all day and so has Trevor, but Trevor’s been able to keep a grip on himself by eating plenty and drinking water.

When the girls walk through the front door, they’re already wearing their swimsuits. Trevor can tell because Honey’s got a sweatshirt on, the same one that she wore on the boat a few weeks ago, and Trevor can see her long, long legs beneath it. The sweatshirt is just long enough that Trevor knows she’s not hiding shorts under there– just the swimsuit. 

Bea’s the opposite. She’s got a knitted wrap around her body, like a long cardigan, but it doesn’t open in the front like a cardigan. It’s also threadbare on purpose– Trevor can see right through it. She’s got a blue flowery bikini on underneath it, which Cole compliments right away.

“Bea, you look good in blue,” Cole says, tongue loose from all the beer. 

Trevor smirks against the lip of his own bottle and takes a sip to hide it, although he catches Honey’s eye and knows that she’s figured him out immediately. 

But she doesn’t say anything, to Trevor’s excitement.

“Thanks, Coley,” Bea says. “I’ve been told it’s my signature color.”

“For good reason.”

Trevor takes another swig of his beer bottle before leaning to set it on the table. “Hot tub?”

Cole’s face lights up when Trevor mentions it. He scrambles to his feet and nearly forgets to grab his drink but circles back around. “Yes! I uncovered it this afternoon.” He walks toward the back porch, then Honey grabs his arm.

“Cole, we’re upstairs. The hot tub is on the patio. Let’s go out from the basement door, yeah?” She says, leading him towards the basement steps. Cole goes happily, shifting Honey’s hand down so that he can intertwine fingers with her, and he looks very pleased about it.

Trevor rolls his eyes. If Cole could hold hands with someone all day long, he would. It doesn’t matter who.

Bea and Trevor follow along, with the girl shedding her cover up as soon as they make it down the stairs. She tosses the white article of clothing onto the couch, toeing off her shoes when they reach the door. 

Honey is laughing as Cole starts to pull his shirt off, struggling with the fabric when it gets stuck on his neck. She helps him take it off, then tosses it aside. It hits Trevor in the chest and he catches it when it falls. 

“Cole, you’re not wearing a swimsuit,” Bea says. “Wouldn’t you prefer it if you went to change?”

Cole’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns. “No?” He replies. “I can just wear my underwear. It’s the same thing, pretty much.”

Bea’s mouth quirks up at the edges and she raises her hands, backing up a step. “Whatever you say.”

Cole nods with a “hmph”, dropping his shorts and stepping out of them. He climbs into the hot tub, grinning to himself as he settles in.

Bea joins him, sitting across from the boy. He starts talking about something– Trevor can’t be bothered to listen to what– and Bea engages with him. 

Honey walks over towards the house and places a hand on the doorframe to balance herself as she toes her own shoes off next to Bea’s. 

Trevor joins her, draping Cole’s shirt over one of her shoulders. He leans into her space and says quietly, “Want to undress me, too?”

Honey startles back at his words, her head snapping up and her expression growing dark. She slaps Trevor’s arm repeatedly, gritting her teeth and hissing at him. “Get– away– from me!” Honey exclaims between hits, finally using Cole’s shirt as an added weapon. She twists the shirt and snaps it at him like a dishtowel. “You are so fucking annoying!”

She pulls her sweatshirt over her head and stomps away from Trevor before he can really take in the view, but he’s perfectly content watching her walk away. She’s wearing a purple swimsuit, almost like the plum of his alternate jersey, and her bottoms are quite cheeky– Trevor chooses to believe she wore that just for him.

He pulls his shirt over his head and sheds his shorts, leaving him just in his underwear like Cole. He climbs into the tub, stretching his legs out and laying his feet flat on the edge of the step where Honey sits, on either side of her legs. Cole stacks his legs on top of Trevor’s, then Bea on top of Cole’s and Trevor’s. Honey stays still, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at Trevor.

“Let’s play a game,” Honey says, voice hard and eyes never leaving Trevor’s own. “It’s called ‘everyone say one thing you hate about Trevor.’ I’ll start: he sucks.”

“I love this game!” Cole exclaims. “I’ve got a list for all the boys. I hate Trevor because he’s too loud. Bea, your turn!”

“I’m too loud?” Trevor interrupts, letting out a little laugh. “You barely ever shut up, Cole.”

“And yet, somehow you talk more than me. I have another: Trevor snores. I hate sharing a room with you at the lake house.” Cole sticks his tongue out at the other boy.

“Well, good thing we’re not there this summer,” Trevor bites back. 

“My turn!” Bea says, splashing Cole. “You said I could go. You can’t get two turns. Now you have to lose a turn next round. I hate that Trevor thinks he can tell me what to do.”

“I never tell you what to do,” Trevor says.

“‘Bea, put your number in Quinn’s phone!’ ‘Bea, stop texting me!’ ‘Bea,’ blah, blah, blah,” Bea mimics, pulling her hands out of the water to make a talking motion with her fingers. “You’re always whining about me.”

“I don’t like this game,” Trevor says. He takes his legs out from under Cole’s and they drop, bringing Bea’s along with them. The water splashes and spills over the edges of the tub a little bit.

“Oh,” Cole says, a lightbulb practically appearing over his head. “Should we turn on the jets?”

Trevor shrugs, as does Honey. Bea nods. “If you want,” she says. 

“I want,” Cole replies, twisting in his seat and leaning over the edge of the tub to find the button for the jets. He presses a few buttons that do nothing, seemingly, before he finds the jets. 

Trevor moves so there’s one pushing water out and hitting the small of his back. It’s soothing and it inches him closer to Bea, who crinkles her nose at the proximity. She crosses the tub and cuddles up next to Cole. The boy throws his arm over Bea’s shoulders and leans his head against hers.

And now, Trevor is sitting next to Honey. She doesn’t say anything to him, instead opting to talk to Bea about some memory from the long-ago, distant past, talking about the first time they got to go in a hot tub. Bea ruins the story for Trevor by mentioning the boy who stole Honey’s first kiss from Trevor– no, he’s not delusional– on the same vacation.

Honey starts to climb out of the tub after the story ends and Trevor watches the water drip off of her. 

“Where are you going?” He asks. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go– Bea was supposed to go inside to talk to Quinn, then Cole was supposed to go to sleep. Honey wasn’t supposed to leave first.

Honey fixes him with a reproachful look. “I wouldn’t expect you to know, but you’re not supposed to stay in a hot tub for more than fifteen minutes. It messes with the regulation of heat in your body. Fifteen minutes in, fifteen minutes out.”

“That’s a hoax, Hon,” Bea says. 

“It is not,” Honey replies with her chin held high. She opens the closet near the outdoor shower and digs out a towel. She wraps it around herself and lets herself into the house, pausing at the door. “Would anyone like anything?”

“Beer?” Cole asks. “And can you check the draft to see what they’re on? Montréal picks fifth.”

Trevor forgot that the draft was today– they’re using the Sphere, which is kind of fun, and Trevor is a little jealous. His draft was in Rogers Arena, in Vancouver, a place where he had been plenty of times before because Quinn had been drafted there the year prior. It doesn’t seem very special. 

“Yeah, can you check the draft? It’s on ESPN. Can you put it on the outside speakers, too?” Trevor asks.

Honey frowns. “I will check the draft for Cole. I will not put it on the outside speakers because I do not wish to listen to hockey all night.” She turns with a dramatic flourish and her towel swishes like a cape. 

Trevor watches her retreat, eyes trained on those long, long legs as she goes. He’s smiling, way too big for someone who was told ‘no’ by the girl he likes.

He’s mostly quiet while she’s gone, listening to Bea and Cole chitchat about nothingness. He does manage to tell Bea about Quinn’s hair, which she demands to see, and Trevor hands over his phone, which is open to Quinn’s Instagram. He posted his own thirst trap, probably just for Bea despite knowing that she doesn’t have an Instagram. Trevor overheard them talking the other night about the possibility of Bea redownloading the app and making a new account so that she can follow Quinn– just Quinn– and this thirst trap might be the nail in the coffin.

Annoyingly, it doesn’t have the effect that he wants. Bea does not climb out of the tub with Trevor’s phone to go call Quinn and tell him how gorgeous he looks– she must’ve gotten her fill yesterday. 

Or she’s just focused on getting Cole in bed again, giving him a second go-around. Trevor doesn’t understand why– she’s so taken with Quinn that they might as well make it official. He thinks it might be an experiment for her, like the Jack thing and his timer. She’s very scientific, isn’t she?

Honey comes back with two beers in hand, a Budweiser and a Modelo. Trevor smiles– she remembered that Modelo is his favorite.

Honey twists the top off both beers and hands the Bud to Cole. She slides into the tub as far away from Trevor as she can get, with Cole putting his other arm around her and pulling her to his side just like Bea. 

Trevor reaches out for the Modelo, waiting for Honey to hand it over. She gives him a look with one raised eyebrow and brings the bottle to her mouth, taking a drink. Trevor takes his hand back. 

“What, you thought that I was bringing you a drink?” Honey asks. “Did you ask for one?”

“No, but–”

“Then it’s not for you.” She purses her lips and waits to see if Trevor has a response, which he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at the water, where his hands have folded over his stomach. He’s grateful that the jets are creating waves that distort the image of everything under the water– he’d hate for Honey and the rest of the tub-dwellers to see that he chubs up a bit each time Honey gets sassy with him. She’s such a brat. One of these days, he’s really going to fuck all of that attitude out of her. If she lets him. She might not, but he’s determined to get to that point.

“How’s the draft?” Cole asks.

Honey recites the first few picks off the top of her head. Trevor watches her do so, a tiny smile on his face. The only thing that he likes more than when Honey yells at him is when she talks about hockey; even though she pretends she doesn’t care, she sure pays a lot of attention to the sport in recent weeks. She’s even up to date on the lingo. Her use of ‘puck bunny’ the other day had Trevor smiling for hours after.

“The sweetest looking kid went third and he very clearly had no idea that he would be the bronze pick of the draft based on the way he said ‘what the fuck’ twice to his parents after his name was called,” Honey says. “It was so precious. I want to put him in my pocket.”

Trevor looks down to hide his smile. The Ducks picked third. This kid is his new teammate. He’ll have to convince Honey to visit him in Anaheim later this year and introduce her to the rookie– so she can really adopt him as her own. 

“What about the fifth pick?” Cole asks.

“Ivan Demidov,” Honey says. “Celine Dion announced the pick.”

“Celine Dion?” Bea repeats.

“Ivan Demidov,” Cole murmurs thoughtfully. “That’s a good pick. We needed a right winger. Slaf’s our best one. I thought the analysts said Demidov would go to Chicago.” 

The last part of his statement is directed at Trevor, who just shrugs. He hadn’t paid attention to the analysis this year. It doesn’t really matter, since each team is working for what’s best for them and ignoring the speculation from the analysts.

Trevor is doing the same thing about trade rumors. He’s ignoring until something official comes through. It would be annoying to be traded and lose his upper hand over Honey– introducing her to that rookie, of whom she is now a fan.

The next time Honey leaves the tub, Trevor follows her.

“Would you quit following me around?” Honey asks, climbing the stairs into the kitchen.

“No,” Trevor replies. “I like being around you.”

“Too much, I think,” Honey says. “You’re breathing down my neck.”

“I’m too far away to be doing that,” Trevor says. 

Honey’s back is to him as she opens the fridge and the freezer at the same time, frowning as she scans the shelves for something. She hasn’t told Trevor what she’s looking for, although he could probably help her find whatever it is much quicker than she could. She bends a little at the waist, craning her neck to evaluate a shelf.

Trevor comes closer, pressing his hips against her behind. She stands, stiff against him, but there’s nowhere for her to move unless she wants to climb into the fridge and shut herself in.

“Now I’m breathing down your neck,” Trevor murmurs, moving her hair to one side and kissing her neck. For extra emphasis, he exhales on the skin. “I hope you can tell the difference.”

“You’re being obvious,” Honey chastises. “You shouldn’t be following me around. Someone’s going to find out. You need to work on your subtlety.”

“Bea already knows,” Trevor says. “And the only other person here is Cole. He doesn’t notice anything unless it’s right in front of him. As long as you don’t climb onto my lap– which I know is very hard for you– you’ll be fine.”

Honey frowns and opens her mouth to rebut, but Trevor manages to silence her by sucking a little on her neck, right below her hairline on the side of her neck. He can feel her head tilting back at the sensation and he smirks. 

“You like that spot, huh?” Trevor mumbles against her skin. “Or do you just like the boy who’s kissing you there?”

That makes Honey laugh and push him off. “I do not like the boy who’s kissing me, especially when he doesn’t listen. I don’t want Cole to find out.”

“He’ll be off to bed soon and Bea will be busy talking to Quinn, he did an interview that I think she’ll find particularly enticing,” Trevor says, fixing Honey’s hair so it covers the mark blooming on her neck. “I’ve never made a girl come in a hot tub before, but I think tonight is my lucky night.”

Honey hums. “Probably not, unless you want a load of blood to taint your hot tub water.” She fixes Trevor with an evil smile. “I’m on my period.”

“I thought you were ovulating last week,” Trevor says. “Doesn’t it usually take two weeks for your period to start after that? You’re not lying to me, are you, Honey?”

Her distraction tactic didn’t work– she seems to think that Trevor would be put off by her period talk, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth being that he doesn’t care– he’s attracted to her all the time.

“My hormones are out of whack and someone fingered me for the first time in years, and he wasn’t exactly gentle about it,” Honey replies, making a face at Trevor. “So I, for one, am not surprised that my period came early.”

“Well I’ll make a note that we should be fine for the next month,” Trevor teases with a grin. “And that you’ll be trying to jump me two weeks from now because you’ll be ovulating again.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “I can’t wait until the boys get back so that Quinn can bruise your ego and keep you in check,” she says. “But, really, Trevor. You can’t follow me around and be all close to me. It’s too obvious.”

“But I like you and I can’t hide my feelings,” Trevor says innocently, blinking at her with wide eyes and a little pout.

“Learn to,” Honey snaps. Her voice is hard, but she pats Trevor’s hip as she walks away, snapping the waistband of his underwear before she gets out of arm’s reach.

Trevor rejoins the group in the hot tub shortly after, but he takes his time getting there. Contrary to Honey’s belief, he does care about his own subtlety because it makes her happy when he’s not being obvious. Just like how it should make her happy when she gives into his advances– because it makes him happy. 

Cole makes it until 10pm. By then, he’s far too drunk to stay in the hot tub. Bea goes to bed with him, although she takes Trevor’s phone with her so that she can talk to Quinn into the night. They’re coming back in the morning, but Bea and Quinn are impatient. They enjoy talking to each other too much to spend a night away from the other.

It leaves Honey and Trevor in the hot tub, but Honey just pushes him away when he gets close and climbs out. 

“Really, Trev, I’m not in the mood,” Honey says. 

“Okay, that’s fine,” Trevor says. “Do you want to hang out?”

“Not particularly,” Honey replies with a little laugh. “We only really hang out when we’re hooking up, don’t we?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not how it has to be,” Trevor says. “We can hang out without hooking up.”

Honey hums. “You know, I don’t think we can,” she tells him. “Especially in a world where you don’t care about our privacy.”

Trevor’s taken aback at that. “What do you mean?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Honey mocks his voice– “‘Who’s to say I would’ve stopped even if we had been caught?’” She says, voice deep and stupid-sounding. “Your hoes might’ve found that hot, Trevor, but I don’t really think our interests align if you’re looking to keep fucking me when someone else walks in.” 

Trevor stares at her, not sure what to say.

Honey clears her throat and continues. “Considering… everything.”

Trevor’s not sure what she’s referring to. “Considering… what? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just said it because, like, I wanted to make you feel good…”

Honey sighs, then nods. She forces her first couple words out, then pauses again. “You did. It’s just– I mean, I don’t want people seeing me like that. I already had one whole ‘leaked nudes’ thing, Trevor.”

Trevor’s stomach drops. He didn’t realize that his line in the car the other day had implied that he would be okay with other people seeing Honey so intimately. That’s not what he meant.

“I’m not really looking to be so exposed when people walk in on us.”

“I didn’t mean that, Honey, no,” Trevor scrambles to tell her. “I didn’t mean, like, I’d keep fucking you with them watching, it was just… heat of the moment. I wanted you to come.”

Honey presses her lips together into a line and flares her nostrils. “I get that, Trevor, I do, but it’s the way that you didn’t even think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes. “I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

Honey ducks her head and raises a finger to silence him. She’s already climbed out of the tub and donned her sweatshirt, hiding herself from Trevor’s wandering eyes. “I know you didn’t. That’s why I didn’t blow up at you in the car. You just need to think before you speak, Trevor.”

She crosses her arm over her stomach and Trevor climbs out of the tub, sopping wet. He nears her, but makes sure that he’s not dripping on her. “I will,” he promises. “I’m just not used to– well, having to try so hard.” He ducks his head.

Honey scoffs, a breath of laughter leaving her lips. She tucks her index finger into Trevor’s waistband and pulls him closer. He’s standing right in her space and she slots her lips over his, pressing against him for a sweet, blissful, too-short taste. “Just– don’t be such a fuckboy,” she says. “I hate you less when you’re an idiot.”

“So, all the time?” Trevor jokes, finding her hand and holding it. He’s holding back, but only because he’s uncertain. Honey has that effect over him– she knows exactly what she wants always, even though she doesn’t always explain it, and Trevor is just trying the best he can. He won’t say it out loud, but he knows that she likes him and she won’t admit it. He’s just not sure how to make her like him all the time.

Honey fixes him with an unimpressed look and smiles when she shakes her head. “You’re not an idiot all the time,” she says. “You’re very perceptive. I’m the difficult one.”

Trevor mirrors her actions, shaking his own head. “You’re not difficult at all.”

Honey hums, but says nothing. She pops up onto her tiptoes to give his lips another peck, then she drops his hand. “I’m going home, and no, you can’t come,” she says with a knowing tilt of her head. “But I’ll see you tomorrow for the bonfire, yes?”

Trevor nods, hoping for another goodbye kiss, but Honey just pats his cheek. She wishes him a goodnight before walking into the house and disappearing up the stairs. Trevor hears her car start while he’s trying to figure out how to turn the hot tub off. It takes him a few minutes, then even more to fit the cover over the tub, and by the time he makes it upstairs, Cole’s light has long since been turned off and his phone is locked and plugged in on his nightstand.

34:90 – HONEY

Thwack. 

Honey’s eyes widen a little and she stops chewing on her bottom lip, realizing that she’s pulling at a patch of skin that could start bleeding if she bites it any longer.

Thwack.

She instead pulls her sunglasses off the top of her head and bites down on one of the temple tips, holding it between her front teeth. The tip of her tongue pokes at the very edge, sucking a bit at the silicone tip.

Thwack.

She shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Bea sits next to her, one leg outstretched like she’s laying down. Her other is pulled up, heel on her chair and pulled tight against her body. One of her hands is closed around her ankle, while her other elbow rests on the arm of the chair. Her wrist bends daintily and her index finger is poised on the wet inside of her bottom lip, hooking it like she wants to tug on it but can’t.

Luke shifts another log up on its end so it’s standing in front of him. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with one hand, his curls dripping. With the other, he holds the ax that he’s using to split the wood. The muscles in his arms ripple as he grabs the ax with both hands and raises it above his head, bringing it down quickly to split the wood.

Thwack.

He’s shirtless. He’s much more tan than he was the first time they went on the boat and he’s put on some weight since the start of the summer. He’s muscular and defined, particularly in his chest and abs, and he just seems to continue to grow. He’s strong.

If Honey didn’t get it before, she does now.

Thwack.

Bea clears her throat, coughing a little bit. “He’s, um…”

“Yeah,” Honey breathes out with a slight nod, eyes still on Luke. He’s got only one log left and she’ll be damned if she misses it.

He hasn’t been quite the same since returning from Las Vegas, where they held the awards this year. He’s been pretty quiet, keeping to himself. Honey had thought they were past this, but Luke has practically reverted to how he was when he first came to Litchton. She hopes it’s just the loss on his mind, nothing more.

Luke posts the log in front of him, kicking aside some of the smaller pieces he’s already cut. Trevor has been gathering the pieces and setting them near the fire pit for the bonfire, while Quinn and Jack are cooking on the grill. Cole is inside, slicing the fruit that Honey brought over from her most recent trip to the fruit stand, but the other boys are barely a thought in the girls’ heads.

He raises the ax and Honey’s mouth grows slightly more ajar, the tip of her sunglasses pressing against the flat of her tongue now, as she watches Luke’s happy trail elongate then fold when he brings the ax down. The waistband of his underwear peeks out of his shorts. 

Thwack.

The wood falls into two even parts, which Luke pushes over with the blade of the ax. He turns and lays the tool against the wall of the rink, then surveys his hands for splinters. He brushes them against his shorts, then wipes his face again.

Bea wipes the corners of her mouth with her thumb, then stands and grabs one of Luke’s hands before he even knows that she’s moving. Honey laughs when Luke trips over his own feet, pulled along by Bea towards the house. 

Honey’s laughter draws Trevor’s attention, whereas Bea and Luke’s stomping feet draws Quinn and Jack’s. Eventually, Trevor realizes what Honey was laughing about and comes to gather the rest of the wood.

“Enjoy the show?” Trevor mutters, stacking the logs in his arms until he can’t carry any more. He stands to his full height, arms bursting with wood. “Should I take my shirt off and chop some wood, too, since that’s the kind of thing that leaves you and Bea drooling?”

“I think Bea would enjoy your shirtlessness much more than I would,” Honey replies, uncrossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. She uses the temple of her glasses to push her hair out of her face, then tucks the accessory back into the hair atop her head. Her least favorite thing about the summer is that it’s too hot to wear her hair down, so it’s almost always up in a half-assed bun. “Jealous much, Trevor?”

Trevor tilts his head at her, unimpressed with her response. “Luke’s not a threat to me.”

“Just like how Jamie wasn’t a threat to you?” 

Honey’s proud of the comeback, smug whenever she makes Trevor quiver in his boots. She likes when she makes Trevor shut up, especially because it’s so rare according to Cole. 

Trevor indeed doesn’t have a reply, just frowning at Honey and turning to deposit the wood into the pile he had made next to the fire pit. 

Jack wanders over with two plates and steals Bea’s chair next to Honey. “What are we talking about?”

“Bea and Luke,” Honey says.

Jack hums, nodding slightly. “Finally his turn, eh?” He hands one of the plates to Honey, a burger and its fixings on the plate. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I brought it all.”

“Do you want my tomato?” Honey asks.

“I’ll take it,” Quinn jumps in, joining them. He pauses in front of Honey, holding his plate out so that she can drop the tomato slice onto his burger, then chooses another seat closer to the fire pit. 

Trevor is kneeling at the pit, a long lighter nudging at a pile of newspaper hidden beneath the logs of wood that he had stacked into a little tower. 

Once he gets the fire going, Quinn reaches out with his shoe-covered foot and kicks the boy in the arm. “Go get your dinner,” he says, then focuses on his own burger. 

The Hughes boys are not the best conversationalists during meal times, Honey has learned. They often are more focused on shoveling food into their mouths than talking to those around them, which she doesn’t really mind. 

There was a time in her life when she had to sit with her parents for dinner every day, no matter what her plans were or if something was bothering her. She would have to make small talk, describe what took place that day, and act polite and happy regardless of how she was actually feeling. Sometimes, she was permitted to eat in silence after she described her day. She preferred those days, even though the majority of them took place after she had decided to leave Charlotte and start anew in Litchton. Her parents knew, then, that she wouldn’t change her mind about moving to the quiet mountain town and they didn’t have much fight left in them.

Her memories of those days usually end like this when she indulges in them– she loses her appetite and her food tastes like stale nothingness, but she has to eat it anyway.

Honey’s phone buzzes in her pocket with a text from Bea.

will you fix two plates for me and luke and bring them upstairs pleeeeease?

Upon reading the text, Honey cringes. So soon? she thinks. They’ve got to be, like, mid-session. She texts such to Bea, punctuating her text with the green about-to-vomit emoji before taking another bite of her burger. 

Cole joins them before Bea texts her back, dishing a bunch of fruit onto each person’s plate before fixing his own burger and choosing a seat near the bonfire. “Thanks for the food, Norris,” Cole says to Quinn before he digs in. 

Quinn snorts out a little laugh, shaking his head before he thanks Cole through a mostly-chewed bite. Honey crinkles her nose, annoyed at the lack of manners each of the boys manage to have when they’re with their friends. 

Trevor is fixing his plate as she reads Bea’s recent text (“not mid-session. helpppp SOS soooo hungry pls pls pls pls”). Honey looks over to where he stands, next to the plates, and sighs a little. She stands.

“Where are you going?” Cole asks.

Honey sighs audibly this time. “Apparently Bea and Luke need dinner.”

Jack snickers, popping a piece of pineapple in his mouth. It bulges in his cheek as he smiles at Honey. “And you’ve been invited to bring it to them? How lucky.”

“Fuck off,” Honey replies, narrowing her eyes at Jack. “Don’t let the flies get my food and I’ll give you an M&M, eh?” She uses his own mannerism against him, not for the first time, but it is the first time she’s alluded to knowing about Bea’s experiment. 

Now that she’s thinking about it, Cole and Luke are probably the only two that don’t know about the timer. Well, maybe just Cole– Quinn probably told Luke so that they could team up against Jack in Vegas when need-be. She’s vindicated when she sees Quinn hide a smile behind his burger.

She leaves her plate on her seat, trusting that Jack will follow her directions while she’s gone. Honey joins Trevor near the grill, watching him scoop fruit onto his plate and reach for a fork. 

“Come to my room later,” Trevor says at a normal volume, nonchalant. 

Honey throws a look over her shoulder, but none of the other boys seem to have heard him. “What?” She asks.

“Come to my room later,” Trevor repeats. He’s not looking at her, nor is he inching closer and trying to make a move like he did the night before.

“Why?” Honey demands.

Trevor shrugs and walks away.

Honey’s nostrils flare and she grinds her teeth. Who does he think he is? Why does he think he can ask her to do something and she’ll just do it? If she makes it up to his room later, it’ll just be so that she can tell him off and render him silent yet again.

She makes two plates of food with a little anger in her actions, scooping the fruit and plopping it onto the plate. She smashes the bun on top of Bea’s burger with a little too much force, flattening the food. 

She stomps up the stairs, making her presence very known as she approaches the room that Quinn and Luke, and often Bea, share. She knocks, loudly, and waits an extra second after Bea tells her that she can come in. 

When she finally does open the door, she finds Bea and Luke sitting on opposite beds and Luke has gained a shirt rather than losing the rest of his clothes. Bea looks untouched and fine with it, flicking through a magazine and laying on Quinn’s bed. When Honey enters, she sits up.

“Good,” she says simply, tossing the magazine onto Quinn’s bedside table and reaching for her plate. 

Honey withholds it and hands Luke his plate first.

“Why aren’t you fucking?” Honey asks, voice snarky. She’s cutting straight to the point. She’s asking Bea, but she should’ve realized that by handing Luke his plate while she asks the question, he would think that she’s addressing him. He blushes with wide eyes and his gaze falls to the floor. Honey apologizes by reaching up with her now-free hand and ruffling his curls. “Sorry, Lu.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, sounding overly innocent. “We’re very busy, Honey. We just needed some sustenance between rounds, didn’t we?”

Her last question is directed at Luke and he replies with a mumble that Honey can’t distinguish. 

Bea finally manages to grab her plate from Honey and Honey sits on the bed with her. Right before she takes a bite of her burger, she explains, “Luke and I aren’t hooking up.”

Honey looks between them. “Why not?”

Luke groans and buries his face in his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It is not,” Bea corrects. “It is perfectly reasonable.”

“What?” Honey demands. She throws her head back and rolls her eyes. “Why does everything have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Like you’re any better,” Bea chastizes. 

“Zip it,” Honey hisses. 

Bea rolls her eyes. “Luke doesn’t want to compete with his brothers, and when I explained that he wouldn’t be competing with them when he’s with me, he told me I was a liar. To be fair, I was lying, but then as a sign of good will, I told him about the whiteboard. So we’re pretending to fuck for a while and I’ll toss him on the board, pretty high up, and we’ll convince the boys that we are fucking.”

“Seems complicated,” Honey says.

Luke is doing his best to ignore the girls, focusing on his food the same way that his brothers did down by the fire pit. Honey wonders if he and Bea had a conversation about telling her all of this, or if Bea is just talking out of her ass.

“It’s not. He doesn’t want to compete with them, but he doesn’t want them knowing that he’s not fucking me. They’d really chirp him for that.” Bea eats as she speaks, probably picking up the bad habit from the boys.

“They’ll start calling me Viagra or something,” Luke mumbles, the tips of his ears still red. It’s the first full sentence he’s said since Honey came upstairs.

Honey hums, thinking about the situation. She guesses it makes sense– she wouldn’t want to compete against three other guys if she were in Luke’s situation, especially if two of them were his brothers. Plus, sweet Luke has always seemed a little more awkward than his brothers and Bea might just be too much for him.

“Gillian’s granddaughter is coming into town later this month,” Honey says, talking to Luke although he shows no sign that he’s listening. “She just finished her first year at State. Do you want to meet her?”

Silence follows her question for a minute, until Bea laughs a little and Luke looks up. “Oh. Me?” He asks.

“Yeah, you,” Honey says, giggling. She ruffles his curls again. “She’s a sweet girl. A little awkward like you–”

“Hey,” Luke moans, frowning.

“You are,” Bea insists. “But it’s charming, Lukey.”

“– and she’s cute. You’ll like her,” Honey finishes.

Luke pouts. “What if I don’t want to meet her?”

Honey frowns at him. “That would be your decision, but I think it would be a shame if you were celibate all summer, Luke.”

“Like you?” He asks. “Hypocrite.”

Honey smiles tightly. Does he know? She looks at Bea for a split second before turning back to Luke and making eye contact. Carefully, believably, she says, “I’ve had more practice. I don’t think a famous hockey player like you is used to being single and celibate like I am.” She holds Luke’s gaze for a moment longer and he’s the first to look away. 

“Fine,” he agrees, but he sounds put-out. “I’ll meet her. But only because you guys won’t tell the boys about– this.”

Honey nods, happy with the blackmail that they’ve all set up for each other. After all, she and Bea are used to blackmailing each other over worthless, trivial matters so often that it’s become one of their mantras: that blackmail is how you know that you’re really friends.

“I’m going back downstairs,” Honey says. “Have fun… talking, or whatever.”

She leaves the room and joins the group downstairs, answering all their questions with easy lies that paint a scandalous picture upstairs. Jack applauds his younger brother, while Quinn just nods along and rolls his eyes at some of Honey’s more embellished lies. Cole is excited for the younger boy and Trevor says nothing– he just sits there and eats his burger.

It’s infuriating.

Honey is even more infuriated when she realizes that Jack took a few bites out of her burger while she was gone, which leaves her silently stewing until Bea and Luke eventually return. 

The sky grows dark and the stars start to twinkle while the bonfire continues. The smell is lovely and Honey hopes it lingers on her clothes. 

The boys are laughing and joking around, quoting movies and retelling stories from their years together. It was funny at first, and Bea is still laughing perched on Luke’s lap, but a weird feeling washes over Honey. It’s a little nostalgic, but in the sense that she wishes she had been there to experience the stories with the boys. Their childhood was much different from her own, where her most normal friendship was with Bea and her sport was just a way to stay involved in school, something that her parents thought was incredibly important. As the stories continue, she just feels the difference between her childhood and the boys’ life, a chasm that’s growing wider with each story and cackle of laughter.

Unable to bear it any longer, Honey gathers everyone’s plates into a neat stack and heads upstairs to the kitchen. She dumps the plates in the sink and starts to run the water, letting it grow hot. She watches the faucet run for a minute, pooling along the plates and leaving a thin layer of water on the bottom of the stainless steel. When she deems the water hot enough, Honey grabs the sponge and starts washing the dishes.

“Get it together,” she mutters to herself, under her breath. The water runs down her wrists and she grabs a dishtowel from the counter behind her. When she turns back around, there Trevor is. “God, Trevor, I thought I told you to stop following me around.”

“You got quiet,” he says with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you had snuck away.”

Honey bites the inside of her cheek. She blinks hard, returning to the dishes. “No, I didn’t leave.”

Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, good.” He falls silent and Honey keeps scrubbing the dishes, refusing to break the silence first. Finally, in a very timid voice, Trevor asks, “Are you going to come up to my room later?”

Honey lets the plate slip from her fingers and land with a clatter in the sink. She glares at Trevor, chewing on the skin between her teeth until it aches. He’s silent, having stepped back at the drop of the plate, staring at her. Honey turns off the sink with a huff and rounds the counter. She stalks over to Trevor and grabs him by the collar, pulling him along behind her as she climbs the stairs and drags him to his bedroom. She yanks him into the room and slams the door behind them, kicking it closed with her foot. She releases his collar after planting him in front of her and she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed and hard.

Trevor just watches her. 

Honey starts to tap her foot. She shrugs, gesturing around the room. “Well, I’m here.”

Trevor’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted. 

“C’mon, Trevor. You told me to come to your room. I’m here. What do you want?” Honey continues, her jaw clenched. 

His eyebrows quirk and his expression shifts from surprise to befuddlement. He takes a step forward, licking his lip before he speaks. “Did I do something wrong?” He asks. “I don’t– is this still about what I said in the car? I really, really didn’t mean that, Honey. I’d never– never do something like that.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out, shutting it down and holding it out to her. “Here.”

Honey pushes his hand away and squeezes her eyes shut, rubbing harshly over her forehead. “No, it’s not, I’m just–” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I’m having a day. That’s all. I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes, feeling smaller, so she hugs herself again and looks away from him.

She misses the concerned tilt of his head and the way he mouths something to himself, maybe a repetition of her own words, because she’s too busy tracing the line of where Trevor’s bedroom walls meet the ceiling.

“Honey,” Trevor says. 

“I know,” she says, closing her eyes briefly before tilting her head back and looking up.

“No, baby,” Trevor continues. He has stepped forward enough that he can reach out to Honey. His fingers are nudging at her elbow and when she doesn’t pull away, he strokes his hand along her arm.

“Don’t call me that,” Honey reminds him. “I’m not your baby.”

“Right.” His hand drops, but he still stands close to Honey. He hesitates, then goes for it anyway. “As I was saying. No, Your Royal Highness, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

Honey finally fixes him with a look, reproachful and annoyed. Doesn’t he understand that she needs to explain herself, compulsively, just so that he doesn’t misunderstand?

Maybe he doesn’t, and that’s the whole reason why he’s still talking.

“Do you want me to take your mind off it?” Trevor asks.

Honey furrows her eyebrows. “Huh?”

Trevor makes a motion like he knows he’s going to regret what he says next. “Another one of my lines. I, uh, wanted you to come up here because I… was… jealous.” He squints at her during those last three words, but she laughs instead of cringing with him.

“Of course you were,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Trevor frowns at her, cutting her off. “So I told you to come up to my room so I could stake a claim on you.” He leans in with a little smile. “Remind you who you belong to.”

Honey’s jaw drops open at that with a loud laugh. “You’re kidding. Really?”

“Another line that doesn’t work on you?” Trevor teases. “I’m going to keep trying until I find one that works.”

Honey scoffs. “Good luck.”

“Can I kiss you?” Trevor asks. 

He waits with a silly little smile on his face as she considers it. She hums a little, just delaying her answer as long as she can. Trevor knows that she’ll say yes– she likes kissing and Trevor is the only person that she’s willing to kiss at the moment. 

“Fine, I guess,” Honey says like it’s a chore. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Trevor admonishes, but he’s already leaning in. The first touch of their lips is soft, like always, and Trevor smiles into it, like always. He’s so fucking easy and it makes Honey’s stomach flutter. 

She parts her lips against his, letting him lick into her mouth. Honey winds her arms over his shoulders. His hands fit over her hips comfortably and Trevor pulls her closer. 

He kisses eagerly. It’s overwhelming, the way that he wants her. When he has her, he holds her tightly like he’s making sure she won’t pull away until he’s ready to let go. 

That line works, Honey thinks to herself as she kisses him. She considers saying it out loud, but she’s really not interested in admitting that he’s kind-of right, knowing that it’ll make his day, his week, or possibly his whole month. He’ll never stop reminding her if she says it. Plus, it’s too late to respond to his “Can I kiss you?” from minutes ago.

Trevor’s hand distracts her, traveling up her body and underneath her shirt. His thumb sweeps over the skin just under her breast. Honey’s able to keep his lines at bay and stun him silent, but when he gets his hands on her, she feels like putty. His hands are rough against her skin and the sensation tickles Honey, drawing a noise from her throat.

“Pretty,” Trevor murmurs. “Do it again.”

Honey chuckles. “Make me,” she challenges.

Trevor groans at that, walking backwards until he makes contact with his bed. He pulls Honey with him, sitting on the edge of the bed and hauling her onto his lap. He’s petting over her skin, his fingers dancing across the expanse of her ribs before returning to her chest. Trevor palms over one of her breasts while his other hand dips into the back of her shorts. He freezes against her, pulling back slightly to look at her, and Honey bites down on her bottom lip so she doesn’t start to laugh in his face.

“Do you…?” Trevor asks, trailing off. His lips stay pursed in a tiny little ‘o’ and Honey can’t help but smile.

Trevor’s an idiot– Honey’s very fond of that. He’s a jock who likes to talk and flirt, but he’s ultimately at her mercy. She’d secretly been looking forward to this moment, although she’ll never actually admit it. She knew that Trevor would go absolutely boneless when he discovered her piercings.

Instead of replying, Honey just tilts her head to the side and blinks at him. 

Trevor’s calloused thumb slowly starts to scrape against her again, nearing her sensitive areola and the bars that go through her nipples. He groans when he contacts the stainless steel, pushing against her responsive peaks. Thirsty for more, Trevor pinches the hem of her shirt and tugs at it. Honey allows him to draw her shirt over her head. 

Trevor growls at the sight of her bare chest, the sound settling in Honey’s stomach and demolishing the butterflies that had been flying around in there. He abandons her lips to latch onto her breast, running the tip of his tongue over her jewelry and nibbling his way across her chest. 

Honey’s eyelids are fluttering with his movements, her fingers tangling in his hair and using her grip to ground herself. Her head rolls back and her chest presses forward, her hips rocking against his lap.

“Honey,” Trevor moans, cupping her breasts and squeezing them.

“Hm?” She responds.

“You’re so pretty,” he compliments.

Honey’s eyes are locked on his lips, all pink and puffy from kissing all over her. She seals her mouth over his, letting her tongue lick over his, swallowing the moan that rises from his chest. He rocks up against her and Honey sighs at the contact. She rolls her hips down to meet his, feeling more relaxed and lazy with each touch. 

Trevor’s eyelids flutter with each blink, closing briefly at times and recovering rapidly other times. He kisses against her neck, small prints on her skin developing as he sucks, then releases her and moves to the next spot. 

“I want–” Trevor says against her neck, letting his teeth scrape over the curve of her jaw. Honey cuts him off by dipping her head and kissing over his own neck, which leaves him keening beneath her. His hips jerk, jostling Honey on top of him. His hand finds its way completely into her shorts, clutching at her skin and increasing the pressure between the two of them. “Fuck, gonna make me come in my shorts,” he whines. It sounds like a complaint, but he keeps her clothed cunt flush against his bulge and continues to rock forward. 

“You’re worse than Jack,” she bites back, keeping her voice steady although she’s pressing into Trevor. She wants to see him come again, wants to make it happen without using her hands or her mouth. She wants to be able to pull at his hair and kiss his lips and feel him unravel beneath her. 

“Nuh-uh,” Trevor denies. It’s silly and petulant and it makes Honey giggle.

She speeds up, determined to make him fall apart. She bites his neck and he shudders under her teeth. 

“Thought you brought me up here to stake a claim on me,” Honey teases. “But here you are, shivering because there’s a pretty girl sitting on your cock. Seems to me like you’re my bitch, Trev.”

“I’m only letting that slide because I’m about to come,” Trevor grits out, bringing a hand to the back of her neck and rejoining their lips with a clash. 

“Then come,” Honey says. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

“Brat,” Trevor bites out with a venom, stunning Honey for a moment, then making her giggle and double her efforts. 

“That’s right,” she praises, petting his hair out of his face. “So smart, Trevor.”

He ignores her teases and buries his face in her neck, sucking harshly and making her moan. He ruts up, the friction between them delicious and pushing Honey towards her own orgasm, which is just about to crest and bubble over when Trevor breaks first. 

His shorts start to develop a wet patch where the head of his cock rests. Trevor continues to rock against Honey, groaning and nuzzling against her. His cock softens beneath her and Honey wants to whine because she was so close and he bit the bullet. He’s still nipping at her neck, making his way up to her lips, but she doesn’t let him find his mark. 

Honey climbs off of him, but Trevor keeps his arm around her waist and pulls her back down onto the bed. He rolls into her space, covering her with his body and kissing over her face. “Where are you going?” He asks. “Stay with me tonight.”

Honey pushes his face away and glares at him. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Trevor whines, letting one of his hands find her boobs again. He toys with her nipples until she’s squirming. “I want to make you come. Then we can cuddle all night long and go again in the morning.”

Honey rolls her eyes. He says it like the most enticing thing in the world is hanging out together and hooking up, but it’s not. She’s annoyed that she didn’t get to come and he did, so she just wants to go home. She wiggles out of his grasp and slinks off the bed, finding her shirt on the ground and pulling it over her head. “I’m okay. I can make myself come, thanks.”

“Honey,” Trevor complains, drawing her name out and standing to follow after her. 

Her hand is on the doorknob when she turns to face him, looking him up and down. “Trevor, I promise you don’t want to follow me with that wet spot on your shorts.”

He stops. He looks down. Then, he cringes and adjusts himself over his shorts, folding his hands over the patch of cum and blushing.

Honey’s hair, now a little looser in its bun, whips around as she leaves. She sneaks out of the house easily, hearing laughter ringing in the backyard as she goes. The sky is dark and the drive home is quick, with Honey speeding around the curves of the mountain the way that only a practiced Litchton resident can. 

She slams each door that she encounters when she passes through it, stomping up to her lofted bedroom and crashing onto her bed. She doesn’t even want to come anymore, too annoyed with Trevor to give into the gnawing tension in her stomach. Plus, she’s still on her period. She doesn’t feel like going to get a towel to lay on, even though it’ll keep her sheets clean. Also, she’s still feeling weird after the boys’ childhood stories around the bonfire. If there’s anything Honey hates, anything that can ruin her mood, it’s feeling like she’s out of place.

She’ll just go to bed instead of dwelling on it, she decides, and closes her eyes. She falls asleep right there in her clothes and she won’t wake until Bea breaks in the following morning to gather up her whiteboard and expo markers.

35:90 – TREVOR

Trevor wakes to a loud bang, like someone is smashing into his bedroom door. He scrambles up and gathers the covers against his chest, cowering in the corner of his bed as the same noise sounds again. 

“Maybe try the knob,” Bea suggests sarcastically. “I mean, come on, Cole. It’s not like he locked it.”

The knob jiggles and Trevor quickly drops the covers to his lap to make a lump that hides his morning wood– he’s lucky Honey didn’t stay like he asked her to, especially since she doesn’t want anyone to find out. 

Cole crashes into his room, looking disappointed that there’s nothing scandalous taking place in Trevor’s room. Bea stands behind him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I expect you to be downstairs in no more than five minutes,” Bea announces. “I have a special presentation and it requires your presence.”

Trevor rubs his eyes with a fist and yawns. “Noted.”

“Get a move on,” she tells him, then beckons Cole and they leave. They don’t close his door, to Trevor’s annoyance. He can hear them moving down the hall to Jack’s room, where Cole begins the same routine of barging against Jack’s door until Bea tells him to check the knob. 

Trevor thinks that he wants to knock the door down in front of Bea as a feat of strength, but he just doesn’t have the momentum or body mass to do so.

Trevor grumbles as he crawls out of bed, digging for a shirt after applying his deodorant. He scrubs over his face again, evaluating himself in the mirror. He needs to shave whenever Bea is done with her special presentation. 

He comes down the stairs a few minutes later, teeth freshly brushed and hair combed. He delayed as long as he could, but he knows Bea will come looking for him if he doesn’t make his way downstairs.

He’s the last to make it to the living room, where Bea is standing on the raised edge of the fireplace, next to an easel that holds a board, hidden beneath a fitted sheet that she probably pulled out of the laundry. There are no seats left for him– Cole is reclining back in the La-Z-Boy and the Hughes brothers are squished together on the couch. Glowering between Quinn and Jack is the object of Trevor’s affection, a Honey that’s still clinging to sleep and wearing the skimpiest pajamas known to man, a tiny white tank top with the thinnest spaghetti straps Trevor has ever seen and old boxers that are rolled at the waistband to fit her hips.

And ratty old slippers that look like cows.

If this is how she looks when she rolls out of bed in the morning, Trevor’s got a pretty good life ahead of him.

Then, he realizes what he just thought and shakes himself out of it. Life? he asks himself. You’re still not sure if she’ll let you kiss her again, moron.

“Now that you’re finally here, Trevor,” Bea says pointedly, frowning at him. “My presentation can begin.”

She whips the blanket off of the easel just as Honey yawns and lets her head fall on Jack’s shoulder, so Trevor misses the reveal of Bea’s whiteboard. He’s too busy watching how Honey smacks her lips lazily after she yawns. When Trevor does turn to look at the board, he’s assaulted by large, bright block letters that read: “Bea’s Definitive Favorite Boy!”

Bea is grinning wide, running her hands over the edges of the board like a game show host presenting a new car.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Trevor complains, rolling his eyes. “This is what you woke me up for?”

He could’ve been asleep in bed for another hour. Hell, he doesn’t understand why Bea had to do this first thing in the morning when she could’ve just come over after her normal church trip. He also doesn’t understand why he has to be here– he and Bea are barely friends. The only thing they have in common is Honey and the only thing Trevor has that the other boys don’t– when it comes to Bea– is her phone number.

Bea’s smile drops. So do her hands, landing limp by her sides. She frowns. 

“Shut up, Zegras,” Quinn snaps. It’s nothing new for him to make Quinn mad, so his reaction doesn’t faze Trevor. What does faze Trevor is the reaction of the girl next to him.

“That’s not very nice, Trevor,” Honey murmurs quietly, still sleepy. She’s cuddled up against Jack’s arm now, head still on his shoulder, and her eyelids are drooping. 

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Go on, Bea, I want to know why I’m an 8.0.”

Trevor finally looks at the list and the ratings, having only gotten as far as the title before he had to say something.

Each name is written in black marker, but their numbers are in an array of colors. Bea has even used her markers to draw little symbols next to each person’s name: a heart next to Quinn’s, a star next to Cole’s, a flower with Luke’s, and a little candy next to Jack.

Quinn - 9.4

Cole - 8.0

Luke - 6.9

Jack - 6.6

“I’m not even on the list,” Trevor grumbles, then falls quiet. He does it for Honey’s sake, really, reading through the lines of her statement a moment ago and understanding the unspoken command to shut up. He just had to get one final comment in to express his distaste for being awoken for something so trivial. 

Bea makes a face at him, angry and frustrated with his reaction to her board, then she gestures to the board. “I can’t tell you why you’re an eight,” she says to Cole. “Because I can’t tell you what my points system is. I want to see how long it takes for you guys to figure it out.”

“So it’s not just general points?” Jack asks.

“Wondering how you can get a higher spot on the ranking?” Honey teases, her tone setting off a bomb in Trevor’s stomach. She can’t just talk to Jack like that– she’s only ever supposed to softly tease him, take the piss out of him. Not Jack.

“You’ll just have to be extra good this week,” Bea reveals to Jack like it was some great secret. 

Obviously, that’s how you grow in the ranks, Trevor thinks. You’re not going to get anywhere by being on bad behavior, Jack.

“So what, you’re going to update the board weekly?” Quinn asks, a little smile on his face as Bea turns her attention to him. 

“Whenever I need to,” Bea replies, widening her eyes like she’s flashing them at the boy. Trevor notices that the lines on her face fade a bit when she talks to Quinn and that her shoulders relax. 

“Yeah, Quinn, so your first place isn’t safe,” Cole baits, sticking his tongue out at the boy.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Quinn replies, leaning back into the couch cushions. He places his arm over the back of the couch, practically encircling Honey’s shoulders. Trevor wishes that they were on the ice so that he could trip the boy– and, ideally, get away with it. 

“So you really won’t tell us how we can improve,” Luke says, really just clarifying and making sure. 

Bea thinks on it for a second and looks to Honey, who shakes her head and draws herself up to a position where she’s sitting on her own. She stretches her arms out in front of her with another yawn, then covers her mouth and speaks through the intake of air. “It’s more fun this way. Half the brilliance of the board is that you have no idea and Bea and I do.”

“I’ll give y’all one pass, though,” Bea says. “First boy to be ready for church gets a point-one added to his score.”

Jack is the first person up, shaking the couch. Luke races after him, not wanting his score to drop below Jack’s. Cole and Quinn are much more relaxed about the incentive, meandering up the stairs. Trevor doesn’t move an inch.

“No church for you today, Trev?” Bea asks.

“I don’t see how it benefits me. I’m not on the list,” Trevor replies.

Bea stops what she’s doing– gathering her markers– and faces him. She looks to Honey, then back to Trevor. “Trevor, dear,” she starts sweetly, although Trevor understands that her sweetness is dripping with poison. “You’re not on the list because I’m not having sex with you. I have no interest in speculating about how good you are in bed and I don’t believe anything that Honey’s told me about your abilities. You’re a nuisance and I hope you get a charley horse cramp next time you’re on the ice.”

She picks up her whiteboard and walks away, going down into the basement. 

Honey stretches out on the couch again, cracking her knuckles. 

“You talk about me?” Trevor asks, hoping that Honey will play along and ignore everything else Bea said.

“Well, I’m going to talk about how rude you are with Bea after she gets back from church,” Honey replies snarkily. “Honestly, Trevor, do you have to be a douche?”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Trevor defends himself. 

“You were a jerk and for what?” Honey demands, seeming very awake now. “Because we woke you up? I got woken up too, Trevor, and I had to come all the way over here from my house. You got to walk down some stairs and you have the nerve to complain more than I do?”

Trevor is surprised by her sharp words, taking a step back. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“‘Sorry,’” Honey repeats, mocking him. “God, Trevor. You really do piss me off sometimes.” She stands from the couch, which draws Trevor’s eyes. Her tank top has ridden up, revealing a little sliver of skin that he wants to bite. He takes in her nipples, which he can see through her top, and he’s surprised that he never noticed the piercings before. They’re obvious. His eyes come up to her collarbones, and her neck–

Covered in little bite marks.

Trevor grins, staring at her.

Honey’s eyebrows tilt down and her expression grows perturbed, suspicious of him. “What are you smiling at?”

“Look in a mirror lately?” Trevor asks, bringing his hand up and gesturing at his neck, pointing out spots that mirror the location of the hickeys he left on Honey’s body. “Surprised you came over here in so little. I would’ve expected you to wear a scarf, since you don’t want anyone knowing about us.”

“What?” Honey asks, reaching up to feel over her neck like the bruised skin is raised. She goes to the hallway, craning her head to the side and examining her skin in the mirror. 

Trevor goes to stand behind her, still at a distance, and Honey’s eyes meet his in the reflection. She looks downright murderous.

“This is all your fault,” she hisses, whirling around and stomping up to him just so that she can push his chest and make him stumble backwards into the wall. 

“At least you look good in purple,” Trevor says with a cheshire-like smile on his face. He means the compliment earnestly, even though Honey is angry with him and already making her way to the front door.

“You– fuck off, Trevor,” is the last thing she says before wrenching the door open and slamming it behind her.

Trevor can’t help himself– he’s pulling out his phone and using her number for the first time since she yelled at him for texting her at work. He types out a quick little message, one that he knows Honey will hate and probably pretend like she never received, but now he’s got two thoughts running through his mind: one, that Honey does look very good in purple, and two, that she talks to Bea about him. And his abilities.

He sends a picture of his own neck, a big purple bruise that he noticed before he walked downstairs, right at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. “It’s a group effort & I’m glad you’re my partner ;)” is the final draft of the text, sent without a second thought. 

Of course she’ll never reply to him, but Trevor is satisfied with the fact that she’ll have to walk around for the next couple of days knowing that he marked her up and only time will help those marks fade.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin Ice (Hockey Player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Reader)

A/N: Hehehe. Hiii :) if you haven’t noticed, I gave the chapter titles, and if you know what I’m doing with the titles then I’ll love you forever Lmaoo. Also I’m accidentally making the chapters shorter then I would like but idk how make them longer lmao. As usu, not completely proofread so excuse any typos or grammatical errors. Also I tried to throw in a small parallel cuz I LOOOVE parallels in writing. Okay enjoy:).

(Y/N)- Your name, (f/c)- favorite color.

Swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of sex/sexual stuff (No smut or NSFW content.)

Word count: 1.2K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3: That sticks around like summat in your teeth?

—

“Sooooo… wanna tell me why Miguel ‘figure skating isn’t a real sport’ O’Hara was talking you up before practice?”

Oh God. You knew this would happen.

“Okay, first of all he wasn’t talking me up-“ You rolled your eyes as you and Logan walk to your uni’s on-campus Starbucks after practice together, your (f/c) gym bag hastily thrown over your shoulder, so the bag was resting fully on your back.

“Me when I lie-“

“And second all,” you send him a playful look for interrupting you mid-sentence as you finally reach your destination, pulling the handle to the glass door, entering the busy coffee shop. “I’d rather not think about it.” Because it was all your were thinking about now.

Logan just took his hands out from his hoodie pockets and raised them up in defense. “Okay, okay… didn’t think me asking about the person my partner despises so much, would be annoying .” He joked with a small smirk, you just rolled your eyes and let out a small annoyed groan as you and Logan both grabbed your mobile orders from the counter, before making your way to a small, secluded table in the back of the cafe.

You did a quick look over at your surroundings, before leaning in slightly and began to speak in a low tone. “Okay… am I going insane, or had Miguel been acting…different towards me since last week?” You asked, Logan leaning in a bit, taking a sip of his iced coffee, before replying.

“oh no yeah, something is up with him.”

You started to nervously nibble at your bottom lip,“You’re supposed to tell me I’m going crazy.” You say with a sigh, rubbing your temples in hopes of preventing an oncoming headache for all the overthinking you were about to do, Logan just shrugged.

“As much as I’d loove to feed into your delusions, I’d rather much more make fun of you for this.” He grinned as he crossed his arms on the top of the wooden table. You quickly shot him a glare and lightly hit his shoulder, mumbling a “not funny”. Before sipping on your drink a bit. Your reaction only made his grin widen, “This is gonna be fun to watch. Do you think he’s into you? I think he is. Oh my god, is this gonna be like one of those romance novels that Kate-“ Kate is your dorm mate, “is always going on about?” You groaned as your shoved your face into hands to help hid the blush that was creeping on to your cheeks.

“Hell. No. He’s an asshole, and I hate him. I’d rather slit my throat with my own skate blades before even giving him a chance. Besides , I don’t like hockey players, especially the ones here.” You ranted after you felt your face cool down enough to finally lift your head out of your hands to look at Logan again, you knew if he saw how red your face felt, he’d never let you hear the end of it. “Not to mention, I’ve heard about all the rumors about him on campus. He’s a total manwhore.” You finished with a scowl, your hands playing with your cup. You’ve honestly lost interest in your drink, but you paid 7 dollars for it, and you’re a broke college student, so you forced yourself to take another sip.

“You say that last part like you’re considering acting on something.” You hate how he said that so causally, like you two (plus a few of your other friends) weren’t always complaining about him and his little hockey team.

“That’s- that’s not what I meant by that and you know it.” You huffed, your eyebrows furrowed together and you puff your cheeks out a bit as your lips draw together into a thin line. “Even if he wasn’t a massive dick, he isn’t my type.” Logan let out a small snort, him and his fucking snorts.

“When you say massive dick, are you sure you meant he’s a massive dick? Or did you mean he has a mass” you quickly covered his mouth with your hand before he could continue.

“Trust me Logan, he’s the last person on campus I’d want.”

—

“So you just, all of a sudden, decide to wake up one morning and be nice to her? Are you sure you don’t have a crush on her?” Peter Parker, The Spiders’ winger and Miguel’s dorm mate/best friend (wether he’d admit or not) teased the taller man with a sly smile. Miguel let out a frustrated huff as he went to try and hit Peter on the shoulder as a warning to shut up, but the shorter man quickly dodged it with a laugh.

“God. You heard me compliment her one time, and now you’re gonna misinterpret every conversation with her?” Miguel grumbled as he sat on his bed in his dorm room, Peter sitting down across from him on the floor, his back resting against his own bed as he took a handful of fries from the McDonald’s bag next to him before shoving it in his mouth.

“Mmm, yeah.” Peter replied with a full mouth, Miguel had to look away to stop himself from cringing. “So.” He swallowed his food, taking a sip of his soda before continuing, “what’s the deal? You’re actually trying to be a nicer person, or do you just wanna get in her pants?” Peter deadpanned.

“I’m not-Jesus, Peter. Do you have to say it like that?” Miguel huffed, rubbing his face a bit with his hands in an attempt to help his current feeling of embarrassment from how blunt Peter was being. “I just…didn’t realize how good she is at skating before is all…” He added in a slightly softer tone, his large calloused hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders coming up with a slight shrug.

“Oh yeah, you’re trying to get into her pants.” Peter grinned.

“Peter.”

“Miguel.”

“Believe it or not, but I don’t only think with my dick.” Miguel deadpanned, his head tilting to the side slightly as he raises a brow.

“Ehhh, I don’t know… the amount of times you’ve kick me out of our room says otherwise.” Peter’s lips twitched up into a sly smirk, this time Peter didn’t dodge Miguel’s hand. “Ouch! Why are you getting mad at me? You’re the one who can’t keep it his pants…” He whined as he rubs his shoulder.

“I haven’t had a girl in here for weeks Parker, you know that.” Miguel glared down at Peter, before shoving his hand into the McDonald’s hand next to his friend on the floor. Earning a small “hey!” In protest from the other man, and began to nibble on the fries.

“Surprisingly…” Peter grumbled. “You going through a dry spell or something?”

“No. Just, trying to focus on school and hockey.” Miguel said as he leaned against his bed, resting his weight on his forearms. Peter scoffed in response.

“Miguel, you’re bullshitting and you know it. If you stopped messing around with half the campus for little miss ice princess-“ Miguel felt a slight burning sensation rip threw his chest when Peter referenced you by ice princess, it bothered him for some reason even though he called you that name all the time, “then who cares? But don’t try and deny it.”

“Trust me Peter, she’s the last person on campus I’d want.”

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert

[underdark-dreams]

I just binged all your Rolan x Tav fics on here (about to go to A03 and give kudos ❤️) and just wanted to say 😩😩 Perfect! AND! I saw you wanted suggestions! i would love to see the first interact/first meeting of Rolan and Tav from his POV if you felt inclined! No pressure! Thank you, keep up the good work! ❤️

I've grown so fond of this vague fem Tav I keep pairing with Rolan...so I hope these pronouns are ok for this request! Tav gets her name finally. (Cal and Lia also barged their way into this one in a big way)

Blades and Spells

A sanctimonious soldier isn't Rolan's idea of a good person to know, but is seems Tav is doing her damnedest to prove him wrong. The day of their first meeting at the Grove.

Tags: Fem Tav, Fluff, First Meetings, Sibling Bonding

Word Count: 4,322 [Read on AO3]

"We don't even know these people—"

"They're the closest thing we've got to kin, and you know it!"

The bright and promising midday had been punctured by a bloody ambush at the gate. Kanon was dead—a goblin booyagh's arrow and a nasty fall behind the front wall. No doubt his body was still cooling just a short walk from where the three siblings stood inside the shaded mouth of the Grove.

Their caravan's brief respite was shaken by the attack. Zevlor had retreated to strategize; the other Tieflings were on edge, a few downright panicked, the fresh tension around them only fueling the siblings’ words. 

It had been weeks since he and Lia had a proper fight—Rolan felt all the pent-up anger rolling out now.

Lia stood with fists braced on her hips. "And what about the goblins? I know you're handy with a spell, Rolan, but I seriously don't fancy our chances alone on the Risen Road."

"Did you not see what just happened?" Rolan said, casting an arm behind his sister toward the gate. "That treasure-hunting idiot just led them right down on our heads. There’s bound to be more, and I don’t want us sticking around to find out how many."

"That’s all the more reason to stay!” Lia’s voice rose to match his. “These people aren't fighters, Rolan. We’d be cowards to leave. We can protect them—we should—"

“Or keep making a scene,” Cal said from the sidelines, to no one in particular. The other Tieflings had grown used to their bickering many miles ago.

Lia was undeterred. "Is this about your precious Lorroakan? Because I promise you, Rolan, he'll still be there when we finally get to Baldur's Gate."

Rolan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh of course not, why would I want to achieve my lifelong dream, see my family finally be safe and provided for along the way—"

"Don't put this on me and Cal," his sister warned. "It's all the same excuse, you'd have left these people yesterday—"

"Because they're not my kin!" Rolan practically shouted, not caring how far his voice carried. "No matter how many times you say it! I'm not going to risk all three of our lives, our futures, on people who can't seem to keep themselves alive. How do you think I'd feel if I let anything happen to you? Either of you?"

"We know, Rolan," Cal interjected, trying to bring a little understanding.

"If you care about me and my future—" Lia jabbed a sharp nail at Rolan's chest—"you won't ask me to turn my back on these people when they need our help."

As Rolan opened his mouth to respond, he caught motion in his periphery. He turned to see an unfamiliar face standing at the edge of their conversation. The stranger rested a hand on her sword pommel, looking on quietly curious at the scene.

"Yes?" Rolan snapped at her. Sticking your nose into a private conversation hardly deserved politeness.

“Wait," Cal piped up beside him. “I saw you at the gate after the goblins."

Lia was quick to follow, disagreement all but forgotten. “You fought out there just now?” She sounded practically jealous. “Sweet hells, that must have been a rush. We owe you.”

"Good timing, that’s all," the stranger replied, shifting her weight a little. From real or false modesty Rolan couldn't tell.

He finally recognized her then—the one he saw speaking with Zevlor for quite a while immediately after the attack. Judging by the flecks of wet blood on her equipment, and on that of her companions behind her, these were the surprise reinforcements he'd already heard other refugees chatting about in energetic tones.

They weren't so impressive in person. Scrappy, in Rolan's private judgment. His eyes passed over the pouting cleric, the murderous-looking Githyanki with a massive sword on her back, the elf who was glancing around himself as though trying to decide which element of his current surroundings he disliked most. 

The other wizard looked sane enough, Rolan allowed. He could practically feel the ripples in the Weave all around the man's shoulders. Perhaps Rolan would have a chance at an intelligent conversation in this place after all.

As for the one in front—she smiled pleasantly at Rolan despite having just walked from a goblin ambush. That, to his mind, marked her as the most eccentric of all.

"Tav," she said, extending her sword hand. Rolan glanced down at the dark stains on her fingers.

Wasn't this hovel filthy enough? His clothes already smelled of smoke and grease from days in close quarters; he drew the line at smearing them with goblin blood.

Tav tracked his eyes, letting out an awkward laugh as she moved to wipe her palm on her pants. From beside him, Lia firmly intercepted the handshake.

"Lia. Forgive my brother, you know how wizards are about their robes." His sister's tone was light, but she shot him a look from the corner of her eye. 

As if Rolan cared what some passing stranger thought of him. If he’d had his way, they wouldn't be here to have this conversation at all. But Cal introduced himself as well, looking a bit starstruck.

“Well met,” Tav told them, Rolan included. “Sorry, I know I’m interrupting.”

Perhaps sensing Rolan was about to agree, Lia jumped in. “Please. It’s a pleasure to meet people willing to risk their necks for a bunch of strangers, especially Tieflings. You all heading to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Aye. Same as you, I imagine—”

The inanity was enough to drive Rolan mad; it was like their first days on the road from Elturel all over again. He crossed his arms and zoned out as she and his sister made their meaningless smalltalk. He'd rather get his tail stepped on than do this painful getting-to-know with one more person they’d never see again. 

Then he heard Lorroakan's name, and his ears perked up.

“He’s taken Rolan as an apprentice,” Cal was telling Tav proudly.

"Have you met Archmage Lorroakan?" Rolan asked her, suddenly interested in the conversation again. Tav looked at him with hesitation.

"Not personally. Gale said—" She glanced down the slope deeper into the Grove, and Rolan realized that the companions behind her had all trickled away in the short moment he hadn’t been paying attention. Seeking rest and recuperation, no doubt. "Gale was saying he's heard of him."

The human wizard, Rolan gathered. Hearing a stranger speak the archwizard’s name somehow rekindled the fire in Rolan’s chest, one he hadn’t realized had grown so low on fuel. He clenched his fist beside his robes and felt the crinkle of Lorroakan’s letter there in his pocket.

Tav was regarding him with a quizzical expression. "I mean, if an archmage that famous has an apprenticeship waiting for you…I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to move on sooner than later."

"Naturally," Rolan said, a bit stiff. It annoyed him that this newcomer could see more sense than his own siblings.

Then she continued. "But Lia's right. You three seem like you can handle yourselves, and I'm not sure the same could be said for everyone here. We'll need every fighting soul to defend against that goblin nest. Especially you—" Tav directed the comment to Rolan. "Having another Weave caster could make all the difference."

Well, so much for sense. Speaking of we and us as if they all had the same goals. A transparent tactic. Rolan wasn't sure what altruistic world Tav had waltzed out of, but he'd heard enough rousing speeches on kinship and unity from people like Zevlor to last him a lifetime. He wasn't about to listen to one from a stranger.

She was correct, however, to acknowledge the value of his skills. No one on the road here had displayed anything close to what Rolan knew he was capable of.

He glanced one more time between his siblings. The set of Lia's jaw told him her mind was well made up. Cal just looked hopeful for a resolution.

Rolan swore. "Fine. We've only taken our damn time getting here, what’s a few more days lost? If we’re lucky, we’ll reach the city with a good story, at least."

"Thank you, Rolan." Lia was meek now that she'd gotten her way.

“You must be quite skilled,” added Tav, sizing him up a bit. "To catch the eye of the Archwizard of Baldur's Gate."

Rolan didn’t miss a beat. "I am.” Cal rolled his eyes over Tav’s shoulder, but Rolan ignored him. “I’ve been manipulating the Weave since I was a child.”

“It’s true,” Lia confirmed. Still feeling guilty about winning the fight, perhaps.

“Really?” Tav broke into a grin, clearly impressed. Rolan drank in the admiration. "Good thing you're staying, then."

Behind his pride, Rolan couldn't help but feel a bit manipulated. Perhaps Tav wasn't the unsophisticated sellsword that she’d appeared at first.

"Well, I should go find the crew before they make too much trouble.” Tav was turning to leave before she paused, sheepish. “Say—don’t suppose druids keep a blacksmith around? One of those worgs’ teeth put a big scratch in my baby here.” As she spoke she looked down at the sword belted to her hip, almost like an indulgent parent.

“Dammon can fix you up,” Lia told her at once. “He’s one of us, a Tiefling. And he’s damn good. Take a left down the hill and you can’t miss him. Follow the loud noises,” she added, with a grin to match.

“Cheers,” Tav told her. “See you all later?”

The three of them watched her figure disappear deeper into the Grove. 

"She stabbed a warg right up close,” Lia murmured, sounding morbidly inspired. “That’s incredible.”

Rolan scoffed at her. “Better to kill it from a distance and not damage your most valuable piece of equipment in the process.”

“Hey.” Cal glanced over to his older brother. “Did you even tell her your name?”

Rolan wasn’t concerned. “I’ll tell her later, if she’s still around.” She and her companions would remember his name soon enough—them and all of Baldur's Gate.

—

In these cramped quarters, it didn’t take long before they encountered Tav again. Her hands swung a bit awkwardly at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Her scabbard clanked empty against her greaves; presumably, Dammon was hard at work repairing her blade. 

Cal and Lia practically swooped down beside her as she approached. Rolan tried to hide his scowl at their eagerness.

"Have you been around the place yet? Cal and I can show you around, if you’ve got time.”

“I’d like that,” she told them both with a genuine smile. “Perhaps later, if you’re willing? Zevlor told me about your…druid problem. I promised him I’d have a talk with Kagha.”

Who had elected her emissary? Rolan glowered. "I assure you, the druids will tell you it's a foulblood problem."

It wiped the smile from her face, and Rolan found it difficult to feel bad. She wanted to dig through other people's problems? She could get used to uncovering ugly things.

"Yes…well. I'd prefer to keep an open mind," she told him evenly. With another small comment to his brother and sister, she continued on toward the deep clearing where the druids were gathering in preparation for their rite. A place strictly off-limits for Tieflings.

Lia rounded on him. "I swear, you embarrass me worse than Cal sometimes."

Cal frowned. "Hey—"

"Because you care too much about what people think," Rolan answered his sister. "Believe me, she and her people don't care about us. Didn't you hear her little speech before? She only wants more bodies for the fight."

Internally, Rolan was still bristling at the idea that Tav had complimented and cajoled him into staying at the Grove. He didn’t truly believe that was the reason for his decision, but the fact that she’d gotten to him at all unsettled him.

“Come on.” Lia knocked her arm against his playfully, an effort at reconciliation. “I’m just saying, Rolan. It costs nothing to be a bit nicer to people around here.”

Rolan heaved a sigh. Even he was growing weary from all the bickering they’d done today, though he’d never admit that to his sister. “All right. I’ll try, if it makes you happy. But believe me—people like her look after themselves. And I intend to look after us.”

—

Tav hadn’t been in the heart of the Grove for more than ten minutes before she reappeared, practically stomping up the path from the Kagha’s inner sanctum. Apparently the emissary work wasn’t going so well. Without her sword, her hands were clenched at her sides in empty fists. Her expression was thunderous.

“Have you seen Zevlor?” She asked the three of them as she approached, bypassing the smalltalk Rolan was beginning to expect from her. He directed her back toward the carved door in the corner of the cave. 

“Everything all right?” Rolan asked, curious in spite of himself.

Tav exhaled sharp through her nose. “Kagha was having a grand time interrogating a hostage. That little girl, Arabella.”

“What?” Cal’s voice rang with alarm.

“I guess she tried to steal the druids’ carving of Silvanus,” Tav told him. “The one they need for their ceremony. Her mother was nearly out of her mind…the child’s all right,” she added in haste. “Back safe with her parents now, but shaken up.”

Lia quivered with outrage at Rolan’s side. “Thank the hells you intervened.”

“Of course,” Tav replied at once, as if the situation called for nothing less. “I understand it’s the idol of their deity, but by all the gods…Kagha was ready to call her asp down on a terrified child.”

“That fucking viper." 

Cal wasn’t referring to the snake; his siblings both glanced at him in surprise. He was a gentle soul, but if Cal cared about anything, it was protecting the young ones.

Tav seemed of the same mind. “There’s something about her,” she agreed with a dark look. Abruptly, she wheeled on Rolan. “What do you think?”

She sought his opinion as a wizard, he realized. All three of them were watching him, in fact, hanging on for his answer.

“Ritual magic is quite different from the Weave,” Rolan replied carefully. “Especially druidic magic. I don’t have the same feel for it. But Kagha…” 

He cast his mind back to the first day their bedraggled caravan arrived in the Grove. The lot of them exhausted and bloodied after fighting off goblins and gnolls just up the road. Halsin, the massive elf who was then First Druid, squaring his shoulders above the smaller woman who somehow seemed to tower to his same height.

“She’s powerful,” Rolan decided. “Quite. Where it comes from, I couldn’t say.”

Tav was staring at him with an intensity Rolan hadn’t seen on her face yet. She looked far more intimidating than she had to him before. 

But then she let out a thoughtful hum, and her features were back to their usual lightness. “I guess that’s one more reason to find this Halsin sooner rather than later.”

They all watched her take her leave toward Zevlor’s makeshift war room, the stone door sliding shut again behind her.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon and a stiff evening breeze picked up at the cave’s entrance, Rolan and his siblings settled toward the insulated back wall of the Grove where Okta was tending hearth. Whatever the old woman had simmering in her massive cauldron smelled a bit like damp wool, but the warmth of the coals underneath was toasty and wonderful against the skin on Rolan’s face and hands.

Cal and Lia were in wistful discussion on either side of him—something about which landmarks of the city they wanted to visit first. Rolan let the feel of the conversation wash over him without hearing the words. His eyes were on the glowing coals, but his mind was also on Baldur's Gate—that and its great archwizard. 

You are fortunate, young Rolan. The flourish with which Lorroakan had written his name floated through his mind's eye. Even the parchment itself was heavy and fine, almost promising of better things. Rolan’s fingers brushed the hip pocket of his robes again as if to assure himself. He still carried the letter with him everywhere, though he’d long since memorized its contents.

From behind him Rolan heard the sounds of a friendly disagreement and turned to look. Tav again. He shouldn’t be surprised; the woman seemed to be everywhere today. 

Across the path, she was engaged in a polite argument with Dammon at his tent. The smith held a hand up as if refusing something. Rolan caught sight of the polished sword pommel back in her scabbard once more, and surmised that Dammon must be turning down payment for the repair job after her help at the gate today. That seemed like his chivalrous style. 

Indeed, Rolan watched her tuck her leather coin purse away and offer a hand instead. Dammon accepted and shook it with a warm smile.

As he continued watching, the two struck up a friendly conversation. Rolan supposed a soldier would find much more to talk about with a smith than with an apprentice wizard. Her hand was draped at rest over her sword hilt again; that seemed to be an idle habit of hers. 

He remembered the city guard back in Elturel displaying the same gesture while posted at watch, and wondered whether she might be in a similar line of work. Back in…wherever it was she hailed from.

Insipid questions that Rolan nevertheless filed away in his mind to ask her at some point. If nothing else, it would make Lia happy to see him making an effort. Being nice.

Rolan glanced again at the dark stains on her fingers. She hadn't taken time to wash and rest yet since the fight. It was all over her, goblin blood and human, small flecks of it visible on her clothing and chestplate and even on the side of her face. Didn't she find it unpleasant? It would drive him mad. But it didn't seem to concern her, and Dammon certainly didn't look bothered.

The smith said something that made her laugh then, and a dimple appeared in Tav's blood-spattered cheek.

Dammon had an easy way about him that always seemed to earn him fast friends. Right now, Rolan found he was a bit envious of the trait. He didn't intend to come off as such a prickly ass, as Lia so affectionately liked to call him—though time and again he seemed to manage it. 

The constant setbacks between them and Baldur's Gate had just soured Rolan's mood in recent weeks, he told himself. His apprenticeship was all his mind could dwell on at rest, and each delay was harder to bear than the last.

But none of that was really Tav's fault. Inwardly, he could admit that Lia would have talked him into staying on her own anyway. Rolan found himself hoping that he'd made a non-terrible impression on the newcomer.

An elbow in his ribs broke his line of thought. "What?" Rolan looked around, rubbing the spot with a hand.

"I said, you're staring," Cal repeated. He and Lia were both looking at him—Rolan didn't like the expression on either face.

"Shut up," he said, though neither of them had spoken. "She's got blood all over her, who wouldn't?"

"I'm just saying." Cal put up both palms, his eyebrows raised. "From your face, you didn't seem that put off."

"Maybe she’d like to see your Thunderwave, Rolan," his sister suggested.

"You're both idiots." Rolan turned around with arms crossed, watching Okta pluck a dead chicken as though it might be interesting. The idiots on either side were not so easily deterred.

"There’s something about a woman in armor, isn't there, Cal?"

"I've always thought so." Cal leaned a forearm on Rolan's shoulder, sounding quite sincere. "Hey, you could offer to magic the bloodstains off her stuff for her. Use that presto—presti—"

"Prestidigitation," Rolan supplied, eyes still on Okta's cooking. A shockingly good idea from Cal. But it would be strange to offer that to a person he'd just met; Rolan dismissed the thought.

"She should've just taken the time to clean it herself before it all dried," Rolan said aloud. "The way her companions did, no doubt. Instead of running back and forth back here all day."

"Yeah," Lia drawled. "Saving little girls from pit vipers. What a waste of time."

“Well, only one way to find out if she’s interested.” Cal turned around and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Tav—”

Rolan would have smacked the back of his brother’s head had the woman not already turned toward the sound of her name. She approached their spot near the hearth looking politely curious.

“Lia was just wondering,” Cal started in—leaving Rolan’s name out of it, a smart choice for his skull— “won’t it take a long time to get all the stains out of your armor?” 

“Oh.” Tav sounded taken aback, but glanced down at herself as if just now noticing the state of her equipment. “Oh yeah, this’ll cost me a good half hour at least. And probably both my elbows,” she added with chagrin. “Damn. Got distracted by everything, I guess.”

“Because Rolan can magic it off in a second,” Lia said in a rush.

"Really?" Far from averse, she was looking at Rolan with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn’t know magic could—I mean, of course it can. I guess. Why, are you offering…?” She glanced between him and his siblings then, as if finally picking up on the strange energy between them.

Rolan felt all three pairs of eyes come to rest on him. He could hardly back out now. “If you’re interested,” he told her.

“Hells yes,” Tav laughed. “Are you kidding?”

Lia clapped her hands together softly. “Excellent. Well, since Tav’s interested—” She placed a strange emphasis on the word, one Rolan hoped only he noticed— “Cal and I should get going to set up camp. See you both later?”

“Right,” Cal agreed at once. With that, the pair of them slipped off in a few flicks of the tail. 

What a couple of damned children. Rolan let out a heavy sigh; they seemed determined to try every last slip of patience he had.

Tav followed him to a spot closer to the back corner of the Grove, a bit removed from the sounds and smells. A stream of cool air seeped in from somewhere outside the walls, and Rolan breathed in gratefully. He had found it hard to concentrate in the stale surroundings of this place.

“Right.” She stood opposite him, looking a bit unsure. “How does this work, exactly?”

“Just keep still,” Rolan advised her. This would be easier if she took off the pieces of her half-plate first, but asking her to do that seemed unthinkably familiar.

She did as he directed. “Sure you’re not going to transform me into a pigeon or something? Give me wings?”

“This is the simplest spell there is, I’m not an idiot.” Rolan’s tone was irritable, but it only made her laugh. He realized that she was teasing him.

Regardless, Rolan steadied his stance and reached out to the Weave. Whether or not it was technically correct, it was the way he’d taught himself. 

Breathe in—quiet each thought—feel the air above and the ground below—

Like a warm embrace from the oldest friend, the Weave flowed as a golden light into his cupped hand. Rolan formed the clear intention in his mind and guided the magic toward her. 

“It tickles,” Tav said in surprise, but he could tell she was doing her best to keep still. Her eyes were squeezed shut for some reason.

Rolan blinked at her, not sure how long she had expected this to take. “You can—it’s done.”

“Really?” Tav looked across her chest and shoulders and the greaves on her legs, admiring their new shine. “Wow…neat trick, that. So you’re saying Gale’s been watching us polish our armor and weapons every night when he could just use the Weave for two seconds?”

“The manipulation does take energy,” Rolan told her, not wanting to discredit a fellow wizard while he wasn’t here to defend himself.

Her expression changed a bit. Then she reached a hand to his shoulder. “Thanks for this, Rolan. It might be simple to you, but—” She dropped her arm and cast around with a tired laugh. “Life has honestly been…kind of terrible lately. Thank you for making it better.”

Rolan felt he could stand to hear more of that story, but he doubted she'd want to tell it. “You’re welcome,” he told her instead.

It was a bit awkward traveling back through the winding Grove together toward the entrance, but it could hardly be avoided. Their camps were both in the same direction.

The night patrol were watching vigilantly from the wall; the massive carved gate raised before them as if in anticipation. Rolan stepped out into the dark, cool evening with another grateful breath.

Beside him, Tav sighed wearily. "Well, 'night. Off to enjoy my extra sleep," she said with another smile to him before she turned away.

No such easy goodnight for him, Rolan knew. He imagined Cal and Lia perching awake on their bedrolls, eager to hear what chaos or embarrassment or both their meddling had caused for him this time. 

More concerning to him right now was the way his shoulder seemed to radiate where she'd placed a grateful hand before. Rolan rolled his arm a little, trying to shake the tingling warmth near his collar bone. It didn't quite work.

But perhaps he'd think about that tomorrow.

[sparkle-fiend]

A very happy birthday to @thefreakandthehair 🥳

Steve pulls into the driveway behind Eddie’s van and just sits for a second after turning off the car. It’s been a shit day – he hates his new coworker, a kid puked in the aisle between the cartoons and the romantic comedies, and a downpour started the moment it was time to leave. He can feel a headache threatening just behind his left eye. 

But none of that matters now. He breathes in and out until the frustration fades, feeling the tension ease out of his shoulders and clenched jaw. It’s movie night and Steve has the day off work tomorrow – which means he and Eddie will probably get pleasantly toasted and watch movies until they pass out together on the Munson’s couch. He’s been looking forward to it all day.

He pulls his umbrella out of the back seat and flicks it open, even though it’s not far to the door. The rain is coming down so hard it makes a drum beat on the thin nylon stretched over his head, so loud he almost misses the sound of cursing coming from the backyard – until a particularly loud “Fuck!” filters through the rain sounds.

Steve immediately circles around the corner of the house. He spots Eddie by the thrifted patio table, looking like a drowned cat with his curls weighted down by rainwater. Bizarrely, he seems to be wrestling with a bunch of balloons tied to the back of a chair. 

“Eddie?” Steve calls out.

Eddie fumbles with the pocketknife he was using to try and cut the balloons free. “Shit!” He sticks his thumb into his mouth and flings the little blade onto the table. “Damn thing’s too dull to cut string, but it can still cut my hand? Argghhh!”

Steve jogs across the yard to reach him. “Hey, are you okay? What the hell are you doing out here?” 

Eddie pouts as Steve hands him the umbrella, tugging the wounded hand away from his mouth so he can check it over.

“Well I had everything set up for an awesome party, and then this rain fucked it all up.”

“I didn’t know you were having a party,” Steve says absentmindedly. He smoothes a finger gently over the little cut on Eddie’s thumb. Thankfully, it’s not deep – the bleeding is already coming to a stop.

“Uh, yeah?” Steve looks up at Eddie’s confused tone. “For your birthday?”

Oh. Steve immediately feels like an idiot. It is his birthday – he’d actually forgotten it. He tries to laugh it off. “Oh yeah. I just wasn’t expecting a party or anything.”

Eddie looks weirdly upset by that statement. “But you’re… Steve, you’re the birthday guy. The party king of the Party. You love birthdays!”

That’s not exactly true. Steve likes taking care of people. He likes to give gifts and cook for his friends – birthdays just give him a good excuse. His own birthday has never really been a big deal.

“And after the blowout bash you put together for me, you didn’t think I’d try to do something for you?”

“I didn’t… you don’t have to like, return the favor or anything. That’s not why I did it.” Steve runs his hand through his hair nervously. All the volume is gone, deflated in the rain – just sad, limp strands of hair fighting to curl in whichever direction they please, instead of his carefully styled swoop. “I just… like to celebrate the people I care about.”

That might be admitting too much, but it’s the truth. 

Eddie’s face softens. “Steve, this party isn’t some kind of obligation. I… we’re doing it for the same reason – to celebrate someone we care about.”

His dark eyes are so intense. It feels like there’s more there – a weight to his words, something Eddie’s not admitting to out loud yet. Like they’re standing on the edge of something, almost ready to take a leap.

The moment is broken when a rivulet of icy water runs down Steve’s back. He shivers violently, and both boys blink. 

“Shit, you’re standing here soaked,” Steve says. “You must be freezing. Let’s get inside.”

They walk close together under the umbrella on the way back to the house, and Steve enjoys the warm press of Eddie’s shoulder against his own.

It’s not until they reach the door that something occurs to him. “Wait… you said ‘we’?” 

Eddie flashes a wild, impish grin. He flings open the door, revealing a living room packed to bursting with damp partygoers, waterlogged streamers and balloons. “Surprise!!!”

[waltz-malice]

𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘. its me. your husband. anyhow could you perchance give us(me) some welt yang x reader hcs >.< specifically with stellaron hunter!reader because im Very Subtle. thank you i love you ― 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀fait ♥

a/n: Oh man i wonder who this is heh BUT HELLO PARFAIT i'd love to deliver the old man yaoi content you happen to desire... i love you too, i hope you enjoyed this, i went a bit more freeform with this stellaron hunter reader but i had a blast with it regardless! (it's a lot of set up for possible continuations of this scenario and specific reader But i wasn't sure where to go with a general prompt) (ignore how bad i am with fight scene descriptions)

The Whims of Fate.

welt yang x stellaron hunter reader!

word count: 1,511 . . .

In a literal sense, Welt Yang and you were adversaries. The Stellaron Hunters had clashed time and time again with the Astral Express, even if it did turn out the wanted criminals had unknown motives for wanting the Nameless to succeed in their ventures.

There were simply too many questions without answers for Welt Yang to have a concrete opinion against or for the Stellaron Hunters just yet, but that didn’t mean that your faction’s capabilities and destructive habits could be excused. He was in no position to detain or arrest any one of the Stellaron Hunters, but the fights that came from their opposing positions needed to be handled regardless of the end result.

So, yes, Welt Yang had faced down with the Stellaron Hunters’ members both directly and indirectly before, but he had to admit that he hadn’t gained much of an understanding of your motives before compared to other members like Kafka or Firefly.

You were quite the enigma, someone who under normal circumstances would’ve never been expected to join such a destructive group of outlaws; a follower of the path of Preservation, your abilities were much more geared towards defense compared to the combat prowess the other Hunters seemed to hold. Even your behavior was much more peaceful and dare he say docile in contrast…

So why? Why would you follow Elio so willingly? What had you seen – what had you gone through to cling to the notion that this was the way things must be done?

These were questions Welt Yang’s mind had often drifted to in his freetime, and today it seemed like he’d at least have a slim opportunity to get some sort of answer out of you. On a small commercial-oriented planet just a little out of the way of the Astral Express crew’s next destination, that’s where he’d found you; even you had the tendency to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the usual crowds, whether destruction was what surrounded you or otherwise.

It just so happened that this was one of the times that the Stellaron Hunters left chaos in their wake, and though Welt Yang was on his own for the moment, he couldn’t just stand by and let you sew such seeds of distress, could he? With a terse frown and a quickening pace, he closed the distance between you, his cane at the ready for the inevitable combat that would ensue.

“For criminals who have their bounties placed on every wanted board within the galaxy… you’d think you’d grow to be far more discreet in your business,” Welt Yang commented dryly, voice lacking amusement as the acrid scent of smoke filled his senses. Of course they had to start a fire, of course they did.

Blade moved to engage, sword at the ready, but you quickly brought a hand up to stop him. The two of you seemed to exchange a wordless agreement before the man backed off, and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters began to retreat entirely with you as their blockade. Were they really just going to leave you behind to defend for yourself, Welt Yang wondered?

Regardless, he couldn’t stand for such an easy end to things. With a hardened look of resolve, Welt Yang brought up his cane and fired off a blast to intercept the others’ getaway, and for a moment it almost seemed like it worked. He wasn’t a fool to underestimate your capabilities, however, not after his many years in combat.

And so, when the smoke cleared and a gold barrier had retained no damage in its action of barring Welt Yang from both you and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters, he was hardly surprised. From behind the shield, your smile almost seemed apologetic, though — that was what astonished him.

“I’m afraid ‘discreet’ simply isn’t in our line of business, Mister Welt Yang,” You chuckled a bit sheepishly, your friendliness a stark contrast to the tenseness of the situation, but Welt Yang quickly recovered.

“As I’ve come to notice,” Welt Yang huffed, and for a moment he was almost amused by the entirety of the situation; he didn’t allow the sentiment to linger for long, though, and the brief flash of a half-smile disappeared as he brought his cane down yet again. “Even so, whether it’s the norm for you or not, it’s something I simply can’t let slide.”

Without so much as a pause between his words, another potent blast of energy surged forth and hit the shield with even greater strength, and Welt Yang watched with a hint of satisfaction as your eyes widened, the barrier itself cracking. And yet, that emotion too was left behind as the shield broke into countless shards of golden glass, only for these shards to come hurtling towards him with barely enough time to register the attack.

Cursing underneath his breath, Welt Yang managed to dodge and deflect most of the projectiles, but a few cut through his defenses all the same. With a few tears in both flesh and clothing, he realized then that you were perhaps more capable at self defense than he’d first thought you to be.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, I assure you,” Even your own expression had lost its warmth to an extent, instead replaced by your own sense of determination as you brought up yet another shield between yourself and Welt Yang as he recovered. “But this is simply the way things must be done, Mister Yang; whether you understand why or not. Forgive me for the time we’re about to waste here…”

“Then tell me why! You can’t expect people not to find faults in your actions if you constantly avoid a proper explanation or reasoning for it all, can you?” Welt Yang pressed back as he forced you to guard yourself yet again, slowly but surely backing you further and further towards the railing that your teammates had disappeared over just moments before.

This time, Welt Yang opted for a simple swing of his cane, a sudden and blunt move that caught you off guard — you barely had time to dodge the attack before he’d promptly cracked the cane against your temple, sending you crashing down onto your back from the weight of the blow. Apparently, your defensive capabilities had weak points in the simple case of physical attacks… at least the unexpected ones, but perhaps he’d just been lucky. Regardless, Welt Yang took the chance to kneel down before you instead of attacking yet again while you were down, even going as far as to offer you a hand and a look that urged you to understand his reasoning.

“Tell me. Perhaps you do have justifiable reasons for your actions, even to the point we could be allies… but how will I ever know if you expect me to read your mind?” Welt Yang’s tone was nearly pleading as he pushed further, and for a moment, he was almost sure he’d gotten through to you.

Unfortunately, whatever had brought you to align with the Stellaron Hunters in the first place was enough to keep you loyal to them through and through; Welt Yang’s hopes of finding answers were crushed as your eyes narrowed and, with a swift kick to his chest that sent him off balance more than anything, you brought up yet another glowing shield between yourself and him.

“It’s not my story to tell, Mister Welt Yang. You’ll understand in time — everyone will, but until that time, I’m afraid the script is not yours to read,” You stated firmly and without room for argument, and before Welt Yang could so much as get to his feet, your own shield had begun to dig into the cement between the two of you, cutting clean through the ground and causing the entirety of the ledge he’d backed you against to crumble completely.

“Wait–!” Welt Yang tried to protest, to try and at least reason with you one last time, but it was too late. You fell from the ledge, and before he could properly break through the shield and get to you, the SAM suit of Firefly had already caught you; had she been laying in wait for you to fall all along?

Whatever the answer to that may be, or any of the other questions nagging at Welt Yang’s mind at that moment, none of these queries went answered like he had hoped. He could only sigh and stand, dusting himself off and wincing as he finally noticed the stinging pain of the cuts within his arms. He’d have to tend to those soon…

But for now, Welt Yang was as content as he could be to make the trek back to the Express — while that confrontation hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, he knew your words would be floating around his mind for days to come, just as his would hopefully be plaguing yours. Next time, he assured himself, next time he’d sit down and have a proper conversation with you and expand on the foundations he’d dug today.

[lilywily143]

what does thou ship in Slay the Princess

HHHH PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING, but it also REALLLLY depends on the choices I pick in a route.

I have some standout favs I'll talk about. Also I'm taking this excuse to talk about my comfy aftermath au for these guys, so strap in!

[Warning: A good chunk became into a headcanon ramble for my Opportunist so uh, watch out for that?]

Adversary/Eye of the Needle x Stubborn

I mentioned that this ship gets a mention in my next comic. I love them. They are visiouc and want to just kill each other, and I... can't help loving their chemistry.

AU: They wouldn't be coming back to life anymore, but they did indeed join in hobbies with each other like wrestling to have that flare back.

Den x Hunted

This is very specifically about the path where you escape and rescuce each other out of the cabin. Any other path, and it wouldn't work for a romantic relationship for them to me. ["But the Stubborn an-" The Den didn't like fighting, she regrets it if you fight her, and the hunted fights to just survive! There is no chemistry with them there.]

AU: They would probably live in a more barnyard place with a big back yard/forest with no neighbors. Gives them more time to just enjoy the outside without bothersome people around.

Fury x Broken

PLEASE HERE ME OUT, I HAVEN'T SEEN THIS SHIP ANYWHERE MYSELF! AND AGAIN, PATH DEPENDANT

Guys, The Tower princess is just a gal trying to make everyone just do what she wants. And the Apotheosis fight routes really sticks to that [the actions of the player affect the princess, so of course she'll be sticking to be a jerk if u fight her]

The acceptance route with her is a nice one and I like that ship that way

But guys, Adversary Fury? And Broken? One of only two voices who is able to handle her and stays to comfort the player and listen to the princess, giving her forgiveness because he understands the reasoning behind her actions???

I LOVE THEM >:D

AU: No the Fury wouldn't hurt people anymore, she tried to hurt you to fill the hole in her heart. And now the Broken fills that void for her. They would spend a lot of time just talking calmly with each other and they'd go to the library a lot. And... maybe the Fury teaches the Broken self confidence like the paranoid + hero do in the Fight Apotheosis Route

Wild x Opportunist

HHHH I love all of the princesses he has a major part in with!! The Witch and the Thorn are really nice pairings. Especially Thorn. Him dropping his intent to find the most powerful person to help her out [in the end cough cough] and then enjoying each other without stress is amazing to me

But the Wild man HHHHH

Look, big rant time for my headcanons in au design. The Opportunist has this whole "appealing" body right? Thin thin thin hourglass figure, cute little halo and angel wings, the wings are big to hide his sharp wings. He's probably the most unhealthy voice, in terms of inflicinting it on himself.

Why yes the hunted has ripped out feathers and a thin body, but that's to just survive the situations he has been in.

The Opportunisit does his best to purposefully look so nice and sweet that it hurts him. These extra feathers preened so they don't look so sharp, making him uncomfortable in the position they are in, he doesn't eat too much to keep the thin body, the halo is kinda always been there

"pretty people get pretty privledge" -idk where I heard this, but I have in the past

So when he meets this amazing princess, and joins her form to be whole, he's finally just enjoying himself without trying to please anyone: His soft wings get more sharp like they normally should be; he gets a bigger body with proper nutrition; his halo is still around but it's not a way to look like the best, pure person, but because he is now finally kind without any intent to hurt people with less power priority.

PLEASE SHE HELP HIM BECOME THE BEST PERSON EVER IN MY AU T-T

...that was long

Cage x Skeptic

[this is a: no blade route] these two just expecting the world to work as it "should" and that they shouldn't even try to find a way out of it's rules, but then finding a way out of it and enjoying the world in a new light is a magical thing to me.

AU: I feel like Skeptic would start working on a mechanical body that could truly be controlled by the head of the princess, unlike how her last body became it's own person in a way. But until then, he carries her around a lot in his bag. [to not scare casuals, but the princess likes to whisper when she's in there]

Damsel/Burned Grey x Smitten

Yeah this one made more sense to me then the Happily ever After Route.

Like I wouldn't hate a au story where he tries to right his wrong doings of keeping her stuck with just him, and then she starts to love him instead of the player [not like she loved the player in this au, but like. She started to love the Smitten instead of the Long Quiet] [in fact I would love a story about this]

But I do like this idea of them having these old scars on their body from their attempts to join the afterlife with their partner, but now they have their own lives. They are still in love, of course. But they won't try to get themselves hurt, just for the sake of being together.

AU: they just are in the living embodiment of a bakery shop au and they love it.

Stranger x Contrarian

Yeah this was obvious, wasn't it...?

I don't like them for the idea of them being these dorks that pull pranks and defy everyone, just with each other. [I mean I do like that idea, but I have another reason]

I like this pairing for this idea that... the Contrarian doesn't like himself.

He said it himself, "that's the worst part of us. That's me she's talking about." Even if it's funny to him, it doesn't mean he doesn't think he figuries it's still frustrating to people...

And I love the idea of them both finding a joy for their actions of defying people.

Bonus but um, I also like Contrarian x Hero because of the Stranger Ending and Hero telling him that "there is no worst part of us" It's just sweet and they have a nice bond <3

Bonus Bonus, I feel like Cold might not date anyone. I could find a ship I like in the future, but currently, he's shipless for now. I could make him aroace but...... yeah I don't wanna fuel the "aroace people are emotionless people" statement..... I don't like that kinda idea...

[and sorry for no cheated or paranoid, the route they have a major role in don't make good ships to me. Paranoid and Nightmare? Fuck them and fuck Nightmare for her motives [she's a good character, but she's a also a pure villian]. And I have... no opinions on the Razor past the top tier comedy] [Maybe I should ship Cheated x Paranoid for the heck of it]

[d-dixonimagines]

Number 2 on the enemies to lovers prompt list?? Please 🥰🥰

Thank you for your request!! I hope you like it!! ^_^

Prompt: "Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you!" This is going to take place a little earlier in the show, like before Hilltop and Alexandria got taken over.

I’m hoping this will post!! I don’t know why it’s not working, but I’m running out of ways to see if it will let me. I hope you like it once I get it posted! I’m sorry if it’s horrible, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so I’m a bit rusty.

You grumbled under your breath as you trudged through the woods. For someone who was an expert tracker, Daryl sure did have a way of getting you lost. Or most likely, it was just his obnoxious way of making you think you were lost. Wandering around aimlessly for seemingly no reason at all.

Whatever the case may be, you were beyond over it. You were annoyed that you got stuck to do the run with him and annoyed at him for... being annoying. He seemed to enjoy getting under your skin, and you knew he enjoyed the fact that he could. He might have been one of those strong silent types, but those were the ones you had to watch out for the most!

Being at Alexandria was very different than what you were used to. After separating from your previous group, you had been on your own for quite a while before you met Aaron and the rest of the community. Right from the start you and Daryl seemed to clash. He was very straightforward and blunt with his thoughts, and if he wasn't giving you some kind of scowl, he was making sure you knew stupid you were being.

Granted, you secretly agreed with him the majority of the time when he called someone out for their stupidity, but still.. he didn't need to be that straightforward with you. Before Alexandria, you had gotten into a cemented mindset that you could do everything on your own. Mostly because you had to. There was no one else around to help you. So it was an adjustment that you were still working on when it came to accepting help from others. It was felt nice being part of something and helping out and doing your part, but when it came to you and others helping you, you had a difficult accepting that.

And thus lies the main reason why you were so annoyed. You had offered to go out and gather supplies and anything you could find and had no problem going on your own, saying that you would be fine and it wouldn't take that long, help wasn't needed. But it was insisted that someone went with you, safety precautions or whatever, and for some reason Daryl was the best option out of 300+ people there. And Daryl made sure you knew how stubborn you were being.

But here you were, following the "leader" of YOUR excursion.

Another groan escaped your mouth, your eyes piercing daggers into the back of Daryl's head. "Are you done with all your moanin'?" Daryl asked, the first time in a while since actual words were spoken. "No, I'm not. Thanks for checking, though." You responded sarcastically. You knew he rolled his eyes at your response, you could hear him huff out a breath.

"Just tryin' to gage how long you intend on griping." This little shit had the audacity.... "I wouldn't have the need to gripe if I was just able to do this on my own. And FYI, I would have been back by now. How long have we been circling these trees for? With what supplies we were able to pick up? This empty bag is absolutely killing my shoulders.." "Quiet." Daryl interrupted you as he stopped a moment. You were too busy staring at him in surprise to notice that he was picking up on something.

"Excuse me?" You were about to rip him a new one when you heard faint sounds of sticks and leaved shuffling around in the distance. It could have been some deer or something, which is what you always hope for, though it was most likely a walker.

It was seconds later that one came into view. Taking your frustration out was the least you could do to release some tension. Brushing past Daryl, you pulled your blade from its sheath and lunged for it, striking it in the head. You both were about to continue on your way when you felt something grab at your foot, a hand appearing from the brush.

You let out a startled yelp, stumbling backwards and tumbling down a steep embankment. Daryl shot into high alert and wasted no time in following you down the hill to make sure you were ok. You landed roughly at the bottom, taking a moment to get the air back in your lungs before assessing the rest of yourself.

"You ok?" Daryl asked as he got to you. There was a sharp pain in your knee, but you didn't know the extent of it until you turned over. "For the most part, I think." Your hands and arms were cut up and the legs of your jeans ripped and seeping with red. Daryl took it upon himself to get a better look at your knee, the sudden jerking as he tore the fabric caused you to flinch in pain.

"It's already swollen, you won't be able to walk on that." He declared, kneeling back a bit. "Well hold on, you don't know that. I've managed in worse conditions before.." Your brows furrowed, determined to prove him wrong. It wasn't going to be easy getting back, but you were convinced that you would be able to do it.

You just weren't putting into account that besides your bleeding, swollen knee, you also managed to sprain your ankle. You adjusted yourself and attempted to stand up, Daryl keeping his arms steady in case you needed help keeping balance.

Grimacing and fighting through the pain, you finally managed to stand up but was only able to take about half a step before stumbling down again. Daryl catching you and helping you settle. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you wracked your brain on what you were going to do.

"What's your game plan now?" He stared at you with an even expression. You half expected to some kind of hidden proud smirk on his face because he was right about you not being able to walk, but there wasn't. "I don't know. You could go back to Alexandria, bring a cart or something, extra hands." Daryl just shook his head. "That ain't an option." He stated simply. "Why not? You asked."

"No. The sun's going down and it'll be dark before anyone gets back here. It'll be cold, you have no solid way of defending yourself in case walkers come by. So no. Not an option." Look at him calling all the shots! Taking charge and being all cute and bossy!

"If you're worried about the sun going down, why don't you get a head start, then! I just need a minute and then I'll catch up. Last thing I wanna do is slow you down, and there's no way in hell I'm gonna be carried back." You folded your arms across your chest, wincing slightly as the scrapes brushed against your clothing.

"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you!" He stood up now like he was putting his foot down on the matter. "Whether you believe it or not, I am capable of taking care of myself. I've been on my own a long time before I came to Alexandria, I'm pretty sure I know how to handle myself." "Well, if you weren't so stubborn you'd see that you don't have to do it on your own.. Believe me, I know a thing or two about learning how to accept others' help."

You weren't sure if you should be angry at him for it or if you should feel some other type of way. "What your game plan, then? We don't exactly have anything to help set up camp for the night, I have no idea where we are or if there's any shelters near by... what's your plan?" Daryl shrugged. "I don't know just yet, but we'll figure it out. You may need to trust me a little bit, though. I'm not gonna carry you, but we'll need to hold on to each other so we can at least move somewhere. You think you can manage that?" "Oh I'll try." It was a snippy, sarcastic response on the surface, but you really were appreciative of his effort and willingness to help.

There was a lot of gasping and grimacing and cursing, but finally you were up and steady. You gripped on tightly to his shoulder as he gripped tightly to your waist. "You ready to move?" Taking in a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself and gave a nod and slowly you both set a steady pace back to camp.

"For the record, you're probably just as stubborn as I am, Mr. 'You're not going by yourself'." You looked up at him, a hint of smirk fighting to stay hidden at the corner of your mouth. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Let's keep movin', gimpy, it's a long walk."

[ask-the-determined-river]

As you struggle, you spot a patch of snow kicking up in the tree line behind Flowey. To far to hear from here. You start to see tracks manifest and close in, the prints giant enough to spot from this distance.

How did he get back here so fast?

What does he intend to do?

Whatever the case, River Person decides to keep quiet about his presence, and Flowey seems too preoccupied with his game to notice.

River Person: "Oh! Tra la la! I have a fun fact that you might like, I used to steal when I was younger, and because of that, I am a pro at sneaking and a master lockpicker, I still have my kit that I don't use anymore!"

Flowey: "Hm. I didn't expect THAT from everyone's favorite Boat Cryptid, what's your excuse? Your parents didn't love you enough? Did they hit you?"

River Person: "No, I lost them a long time ago, I was alone, alone, alone....... very alone for a long time, just like-,"

Flowey abruptly summons another vine and picks up the dropped blade and points it at River Person.

Flowey: "SHUT UP! I know what you're trying to do and I won't fall for it! Give me your other arm, right NOW."

River Person: "What other arm? This is my only arm,"

Flowey: "I'm cute, not stupid, GIVE ME YOUR ARM BEFORE I SLICE THIS ONE OFF! NOW."

He then painfully squeezes their arm again to show he's serious.

River Person: "Owwww! Oh...you also don't have a very good sense of humor...fine," they then stick out their other arm "ready to give you a hand, buddy,"

Immediately Flowey summons out a third vine and grabs onto that arm too.

He then grins devilishly and cackles at them as he raises the knife closer and threateningly waggles it close to their face.

Flowey: "I kind of like the mystery of your cloak, but tell me, if I stab you in the face, how many eyes will you lose? Because I can only imagine that you're hideous filthy mutant under there created by the human's pollution, it's the only reason I can think of why you hide yourself,"

River Person: "Tra la la.....you're completely right, I am very, very, very hideous, twelve eyes, a third arm that doesn't work, long thick matted hair, and everything, it's one of the reasons why I was alone, no one would take me in, I was a lucky one when I came upon my cloak,"

And as Flowey laughs cruelly, River Person becomes distracted by the knife, again spotting the small bits of green chlorophyll...

River Person: "Did you accidentally hurt yourself on this? Is that why you dropped it? Are you okay?"

Perplexed, Flowey instantly stops laughing.

Flowey: "Yes, and so what? You must be truly demented as they say to worry about the one who's literally about to MURDER you,"

River Person: "Maybe something might be wrong with me and maybe if you let me go I can help you, I just bought two freshly baked cinnamon bunnies, maybe we could eat them together...and maybe..it... could be nice if you would let it be,"

Flowey: "HAHAHA! You sound just like Papyrus...hmph, but after everything you just told me, I know better than to trust some DISGUSTING mutant thief!

With his declaration, he swings the blade down and slices a long cut across their arm, cruelly laughing as blood splatters to the snow and their HP jumps from 15/15 to 13/15.

[mcmeerkat1]

Drip’s Wildest Adventures Episode 1: The Bear

This is what happens when you sit in a chat and come up with ways to torture Drip

Drip was playing truth or dare with the other smokejumpers and Avalanche was like “I bet you can’t get a bear to come onto base”. Drip saw that as a challenge and was like “oh yea I can”. Blade was currently off base as well.

And Drip goes off into the woods and finds a bear and then proceeds to lure it back to base

Blade was currently on his way back to base when he heard screaming coming from the woods. 

And those screams came from no one else but a dumbass smokejumper

Blade didn’t really want to know what happened but he had to save him from the bear that was currently chasing him 

And so began the rescue. Drip is able to somehow climb a tree and the bear is down below dangerously getting close to him. 

Blade slowly hovers close enough to attach his hoist to Drip 

And Drip sees Blade's hoist and carefully grabs hold of it 

Suddenly, the bear swipes at Drip causing him to panic and lose his grip on the tree. But thankfully, he was attached to the hoist so Blade was able to fly him back to base

As he is taken back to base safely he quietly giggles and then turning back to his general facial expression, slowly glances up at Blade from his hoist. 

Blade is dead silent not even making eye contact with the smokejumper 

Drip notices and quietly gulps in his throat and coughs 

The rest of the ride was silent till they hit the tarmac of the base. The rest of the smokejumpers came tumbling out to check on Drip. But after seeing Blades expression, they immediately slowed. 

Drip slowly glances up at Blade and tries to give him his puppy eyes and innocent expression. He glances up at the Chief, not giving a second thought as to what his expression is bearing. 

“Why the hell was Drip being chased by a bear?” Blade growled. 

"Umm well, you see.." Pinecone started, stammering along the way. 

“IT WAS MY FAULT CHIEF” Avalanche spoke up. Drip gave his friend a thankful look. Though that didn’t last long. 

"Finally someone admits to it." Pinecone said, whispering. She glanced up at Blade, slowly and carefully. 

Everyone felt tense under Blades icy gaze. “WE WERE PLAYING TRUTH OR DARE AND I TOLD DRIP HE COULDN’T GET A BEAR TO COME ON BASE”. Before he could say more, Blade cut in. “Excuse me…did you just say get a bear onto MY base??” “I DIDN’T THINK HE WOULD DO IT”. 

"Are you dumb?" Drip inquired, glancing at Avalanche. "Of course I was going to do it. I like a challenge after all. It was funny." He quietly giggled and bit his bottom lip to prevent laughter from coming out. 

“I suggest you quiet down Drip” Dynamite warned. Drip rolled his eyes only to meet Blades stare. “How would it be funny if a bear possible came on base and attacked someone huh? Or what about destroying all of supplies? Once again Drip, you have yet to think about your actions” Blade seethed 

"Yeah, Drip. You could've killed someone." Pinecone said, glancing at Drip and Avalanche. "And you obviously thought wrong about the dare Lanche. You know Drip is attempted to do anything dumb whenever he sees the opportunity." 

“She has a point there” Dynamite added, staring sternly at Avalanche and Drip. They both fell silent under the glares of their teammates and chief. 

Drip quietly growled inside his throat, before slowly taking a glance at his chief. He knew he was done. 

Blade stared him down before a sigh escaped him. “We will deal with this in the morning when I have coffee” he grumbled before rolling away. “I would be nervous Drip” Blackout whispered to Drip before quickly retreating. 

"Shut up. Or I'll make sure that bear chases your aft." Drip replied, before sticking his tongue out toward Blade's direction, then heading for the main hangar.

[sanguineslave]

HI HELLO I SAW YOUR POST ABOUT GIVING U A PROMPT AND I LEAPT TO SUBMIT THIS

so uhh is it ok if you write some fluff about my bard Tav, Severin (he/him) having Astarion as the muse for his music? except Astarion doesn’t know this until after he shows the camp a song he wrote (and i didn’t add gale because i didn’t think to, i got the other main ones in cano though lmao). also this is Severin

tysm for reading this!!

Okay, I sort of went overboard with this because I haven't written anything longer than a few paragraphs in AGES, and I've literally never written fluff, but I hope this is alright! Your Tav looks so cool 👉👈 I was kinda afraid to write about him too much cuz idk his personality eksjejsjj

Misunderstandings

Content style: angst, fluff (???), comedy, probably ooc

Content warnings: mild references to violence and problems with sexual boundaries

Astarion is used to people staring at him. The past two centuries of his life had been filled with wanton gazes; his life's purpose was to attract attention everywhere he went, and he did it very well. He knew he was beautiful, tempting and handsome. He even revelled in it.

...So why was Severin's stare sending chills up his spine?

It had been going on for a few days, now— this awkward little situation. Astarion would sit and read, or pretend to read and eavesdrop on others' conversations. This was the routine he'd adopted since he first arrived at camp. But, now, anything he did was accompanied by fleeting little glances from the camp bard. At first, Astarion figured the man had fallen head-over-heels for him, that he was hot under the collar and desperate for some attention. Now, he's not sure if Severin is crushing on him or plotting his murder. His gaze is too fiery, too trained on the features of his face to be lustful. He never directly approaches him, either; just watches from behind his tent flaps, crossed legged and only ever looking away when Astarion meets his gaze.

Confronting Severin about all of this had crossed his mind, but he'd decided against it. Avoidance, Astarion figured, was probably the best course of action, at least until Severin finally snapped and put a blade to his throat. After all, he couldn't exactly prove that the bard had murderous intentions. Maybe he was just shy. Maybe, he was working up the courage to ask for a fuck and had no idea how ridiculously creepy his staring was. He wouldn't be the first man to be so oblivious...

"Tonight, we feast!" Wyll's booming voice rips Astarion from his thoughts, head snapping around to see what the warlock was fussing over. Beside him, Lae'zel holds up an elk by the antlers, the creature's eyes lifeless and clouded. There was an arrow sticking into its neck, weeping blood fresh enough to smell on the air.

"Fuck yes! I'll start the fire," Karlach rubs her hands together, the heat generated between them enough to create flickering embers.

"I'll fetch our wine," Shadowheart adds.

All at once, everyone is bustling around the camp, grabbing pots and emptying baskets to find fresh vegetables. Everyone except Astarion, of course, who bristles in place. A camp get-together was the last thing he needed; declining the invitation would make him look sulky in front of his companions, and joining them would entail a night full of Severin's awkward stares. The Hells was he supposed to do?

"Astarion?" Wyll calls his name, pensive. He hadn't realised he was scowling, fangs just barely peeking out from under his lip. "I was going to leave a hunk of the meat raw, in case, you know..."

Aha! An opening!

"Oh, no, dead meat is of no use to me. I like my food... Very fresh. I'm afraid I'll have to hunt for my own meal tonight." He plays his best pout, eyes gleaming with insincerity. For once, his vampirism was a benefit; it was an excuse to hunt, to leave camp for a few hours while everyone else talked amongst themselves. Moreover, Severin wouldn't be able to chase after him with everyone else around him, watching. Most likely, he'd be the night's entertainment, strumming songs on his lute until his finger pads were raw and everyone was full of stew. Yes... Yes, this was the perfect excuse to get some peace and quiet!

"You're not joining us tonight?" Severin's voice is like honey, smooth and warm. There's a hint of... Disappointment? Sadness, perhaps, in it as well. Astarion regards him with a courteous nod, jaw clenching slightly. How could such an innocent face belong to a killer? Well— actually, that was a stupid question. Everyone in this camp was a killer; everyone had killed goblins and bandits and gods-know-what-else along their journey. Astarion mentally rephrased his sentence: how could such an innocent face, a face that had so openly welcomed his vampirism weeks earlier, be planning his demise? The idea seems preposterous now that he's up close to the other for the first time in days. Hells, there was no way it was true.

If he had the ability to, Astarion might've blushed in embarrassment. This paranoia was unbecoming of him; it was childish, something his siblings might've engaged in. Of course Severin wasn't planning on killing him!

"...not tonight," is all he manages before scampering away.

---

A small boar and a few hares. The forest was almost empty tonight. Lae'zel, all brutish and ugly as sin, must have chased all the game away in her hunt earlier...

Or, maybe, he's just sloppy tonight.

Astarion can't think of much besides Severin. Like many a man and woman before him, he was enchanted by his looks. Unlike most, though, he wasn't direct enough to proposition him for sex outright. He was more like a blushing maiden, or one of those gruff, bearded Gur he'd find in taverns— too scared to approach a man for pleasure but clearly interested in the idea. Confessing his vampirism must've put him on edge, blinding him to reason. Guilt pools in his stomach. Not only had he made assumptions about an ally, but he'd been depriving him of a service he wanted. What a horrible person he was.

---

The walk back to camp is more like a shuffle, his feet heavy and slow. Part of him hopes that everyone will be asleep when he returns, but he knows that chance is slim. And, sure enough, when the gleam of their campfire comes into view, he hears bouts of boisterous laughter and drunken conversation. Astarion steels himself, paints a confident facade over his face.

Before he can step into the clearing, Severin interrupts him.

"Alright, alright, I'll play it for you. It's not finished yet, though, so you mustn't judge it!"

Then, a gentle, melodic tune thrums to life through the strings of his lute. Astarion pauses, watching through thick tree branches. He sings gently, quietly— like he's embarrassed of his own work. The lyrics are hard to make out from behind the camp, but a few words make their way to his ears.

They make his jaw slacken.

Sanguine eyes, hair of silver, something something... Adventures, tales of legend, something...

Astarion kicks himself internally. He'd never been so wrong about someone. The tadpole in his head, clearly, was eating away at his intelligence and leaving him stupid. Of course Severin, a bard, was using his environment as inspiration for his music. The staring, the lack of conversation... It was all because he was observing him from afar. Every arrow he let loose, every book he nestled into after a long day— he was being immortalised in song, in poetry.

He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. A deep dread, seated in the bottom of his unbeating heart, evaporates all at once and he feels a little lighter. Happy, even.

When Severin finishes, Astarion comes into the firelight and claps slowly, his usual confidence restored with a renewed vigor.

"Bravo, bravo! What an inspiring performance, darling!" The others seem to agree with him, nodding their heads and cheering with varying degrees of sobriety. "If I were a goblin, I'd lock you up like that Volo character and have you sing about me all day long." He makes sure to hold his gaze with those words, eyes radiating a sincerity he can't portray through words. Thank you, they say. Thanks for what, exactly, he isn't sure. But he's thankful nonetheless.

Thank you, Severin.

[liliallowed]

I hope sans doesn't hate us now hey hey Crimson you know sans well right do you think he hates us?????? :(

angst below

"don't worry darling he won't blame you as long as I'm around. in fact I can make it so he'll like you more by training you to fight me. he'll be so happy to see you eventually take me down"

"wh-what?"

"you know. like how cats bring dead birds as gifts? or like, just rip out my heart. I think he'll like that. probably kiss you or like cuddle. it's adorable how docile he gets around you. I'd imagine it's like watching a zookeeper snuggle with tiger cubs they raised while the other would rip other people to shreds."

"okay wtf are you talking about. why would you... WANT him to like me? is this part of your evil plans?"

"mm. well, would you believe me if I said I just wanna see you somehow succeed without being discarded in the dumpster in sans's basement?"

"no."

"hehehe. yeah I'm planning on ruining your marriage at the last day. I want to be the worst wingman ever."

"I don't understand. why are you so sure he won't hate me? he... he wants to kill me."

"that's BECAUSE he loves you silly. it's his... way of making sure you're "safe" instead of becoming someone else's exp. kinda like a twisted way of giving his greatest mercy."

"he is going to kill you too right? doesn't that mean he'd love you too?"

"psht I WISH! nah he doesn't give me a fast out. makes sure it's as painful as it can possibly be before I run out of hp. then again it's pointless since I literally can't feel anything. that's not his mercy. that's straight up spite." they shrug.

"he really does care about you you know. it'd be a waste to die to him. DON'T LET HIM TAKE YOUR LIFE. he'd be lonely without you." they frown. "least with YOU he won't be left for dead in a ghost town if I'm gone. call it a plan B in case I actually don't come back. make sure you'll take good care of him"

"what? what do you mean?"

"I've stayed with him cuz leaving him would be too cruel. killing him would leave ME alone. but with you in the mix everyone is happy."

"then why did you give me the reset!?"

"so he can't push you away using the old (you wouldn't understand resets) bullcrap. such a drama queen honestly."

"liar. you just want entertainment."

"true. that too. can't a person just enjoy both being an asshole and being empathetic?"

"you're NOT going to start getting any sympathy from me because of this. you're manipulating me! I'm just a second in command pawn for you aren't I? you're replacement to torment THE ONE PERSON WHO GAVE A SHIT ABOUT ME!"

they stayed silent for a moment...

before pinning you down to the ground and slicing through your souls shield, poking their knife to your throat.

"of course I am. you're so fucking dumb to think I actually GIVE a shit about your dumb relationship with my rival. you almost seemed to forget you're a hostage here that I've had the GENEROSITY to teach self defense."

your eyes widen as you flinch feeling the tip break through the skin.

"I can hurt you room I can BREAK you too. I just don't WANT TO because it'd be too predictable. don't forget your place y/n. if you really are set on those ideals then whats stopping you?"

their grip loses from your hands as they place the blade in your hand.

"go on. then. slay me if you think Im SO evil. I mean hehehe... I'd still come back but if this is going to be your first kill might aswell be me right? "

your hand shook on the blade as they forced your hand forward into their chest.

"STICK TO IT THEN COWARD. FUCKING KILL ME. GO IMPRESS HIM! or are you gonna just make the excuse of killing people is bad? I'll kill sooooo many more people if you don't stop me here hehehe... I'll turn you into a monster too."

your hands shake. you can't. you can't you CAN'T. YOU HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER WAY. THERE HAS TO BE.

[teecupangel]

Adding fuel to the fire of COD and AC crossover. Although you don't have modern warfare 1 and 2 reboot (that's okay) I hope you'll get the game soon but I guess stick to cut scenes in YouTube up to you. (I'm the OG anon who requested the Cod x AC, hi, how you been?)

https://youtu.be/g3GPMpevdRQ

That's the link of Phillip graves's betrayal. The detail that his name changes color of his status and same with General Shepherd in an another cut scene and it made me think of Desmond using eagle vision saw him changed color especially this is the moment Philip graves mentioned him as an assassin and the brotherhood in that and the 141 task force + Alejandro and Rudy learned about and you know spice up with angst. I believe Farah makes Desmond possibly go soft on her and treat her like a sister cause her strong personality reminds me of Claudia. I don't know what will be the first impression of Alex to Desmond (They might get along cos they are Americans lol). I want the task force be amazed (Desmond deserves all the positive attention at the dual his hidden blades, hidden gun, parkour and rope dart (Connor definitively knows how) and maybe sharing his wisdom *cough* bleeding effects *cough* of the views and tenants of the creed. Sorry for the long ask. Enjoy my heart emojis for you 💘💝💖💗💓💞💕💟❣️❤️‍🔥❤🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜🤎🖤🩶🤍

All current AC x COD short fics/drabbles: the OG question that started it all together with 2 small drabbles, Desmond and the 141 ‘bonding’

(I’ve been great, nonny, thanks for asking. I did find a cheap mw one but all mwii are still not that cheap. Hahaha. Although, full confession: I watched the scenes with Ghost and Soap in it because they’re my favorite in the og mw so I did see Graves’ betrayal scene XD)

He'll definitely be like "I like this one" with Farah and Alex would be a bit jealous because he is kinda like Farah's yes man. If Desmond is ever going to have a 'recruit' in MW, it'll either be Ramirez and/or Farah. Alex and Desmond would probably be sus over one another because Alex is CIA and Desmond is pretending to be CIA XD

If you're wondering why I answered that first before Graves... weeeelllll...

So I have another confession to make. I had a plan for Graves and Shadow Company (and Shepherd) being Assassins in this fic and now that you asked, I have an excuse to write this scene XD

This will also answer a question from @twitcherpated :

does the 141 ping as blue to Desmond? Gold? Something else?

Have a little fic where I give Graves and Shadow Company more... uuuhhh... I wanna say 'deeper connection'?

===============

Desmond knew something was up even before they reached the barricade that had suddenly popped up at the entrance of Los Vaqueros’ base.

Desmond had his Eagle Vision activated the entire ride, more as a precaution than anything else. Alejandro, Soap, and Ghost were as blue as always with Ghost’s blue the most vibrant of them all.

He missed the blues of the rest of 141 and Ramirez’ but they had their own mission to take care of.

And Desmond had been consoling himself with the blues of Graves and Shadow Company.

It was nice…

Being surrounded by blues for once.

Especially by fellow Assassins like Shadow Company.

Which was why the sudden white of their forms just before they reached the gates immediately made Desmond wary.

Something was happening…

And the blues of Shadow Company was now being slowly smothered by the white like some kind of fading gradient.

Desmond followed his team as they got out of the car at the same time Graves and his men came out of theirs but he kept his hands on his ACR, just in case.

Desmond took a step forward to follow Alejandro but stopped when Ghost placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. Desmond turned to look at Ghost who simply shook his head at him almost unnoticeably while Alejandro loudly asked, “What’s this?”

“This is the immediate future.” Graves answered calmly, his tone having lost all casualness he used to show to 141 and Alejandro, “Step away from the gate.”

“What?” Soap asked with furrowed brows.

“You’re crazy, this is my base.” Alejandro reminded them as he raised his arms briefly.

“It’s not a base. This is a sizeable facility and I admire it.” Graves glanced at Desmond as he announced, “So we’ll be using it as our bureau for this operation.”

Desmond froze at those words while Graves continued, turning his attention back to Alejandro and Soap, “You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service.”

“No, no, no.” Alejandro immediately spoke with growing fury in his voice, “I don’t tak-”

“Desmond.” Graves cut Alejandro off as he turned to face Desmond, “It’s time for us to do what we’re meant to do, brother.”

Desmond’s eyes widened just as both Soap and Alejandro turned to stare at him.

“What does he mean by that, Desmond?” Soap asked, “Did you know about this?”

“Know about it? He’s part of it.” Graves answered for Desmond and Desmond could only watch in silence as Graves and the Shadow Company around him took off a part of their patch, removing part of the shades and the rook and revealing a black Assassin insignia underneath.

Desmond barely heard Graves’ next words, “He’s been part of it longer than any of us.”

All he could focus on was the words written below the insignia.

Agiamo nell’ombra per service la luce.

‘We work in the dark to serve the light.’

“What does he mean by that, Desmond?” Soap’s voice shook Desmond out of his stupor and he turned to stare at Soap.

“You’re with them?!” Alejandro shouted as he took a step away from Graves and pointed an accusing finger at Desmond.

“Does Shepherd know?” Soap asked as he took a step towards the car.

“Commander Shepherd sends his regards.” Graves answered and they all turned to face him once more. Graves stared at Desmond as he added, “And he told me to remind you…”

“Remember that you are a part of our Brotherhood.” Graves glanced at Soap as he stated, “Not theirs.”

Desmond tightened his grip on his ACR as he finally spoke, “I’m loyal to the Creed…”

“But I am not loyal to any master.” Desmond let go of his ACR and quickly pulled out his USP.45, making everyone raise their main weapon.

“Hold your fire!” Both Graves and Soap ordered when they both realized that Desmond had aimed his sidearm…

At his own temple.

“Desmond…”

“You talk too much, Graves.” Desmond took a step back as he used his left hand to show everyone his hidden blade, “You all know what this does, right?”

Desmond placed his left hand on the side of his neck as he said, “Before anyone gets the idea of shooting my hand off so I can’t fire my gun, all I need to do is twitch and I’ll pierce my own neck.”

“Desmond…” Soap called out as he kept his own gun aimed at Graves’ men.

“Desperate times, Soap.” Desmond said with an obviously fake cheerful tone before glaring at Graves, “So, Graves. Don’t talk, just listen.”

“Shepherd needs me.” Desmond stated, “That’s the only reason why you would go to all this trouble to blow my cover right here and now. You’re trying to turn 141 against me.”

Soap and Alejandro glanced at Desmond but kept quiet.

“Which means you need me to come to you willingly.” Desmond stared at Graves’ impressive poker face.

Then he glanced at the body posture of the men behind Graves.

“It’s Soma.” Desmond realized, “You need me to find Soma…”

Desmond glanced beyond the gates before continuing, “You’ve got confirmation that Soma is in there but you don’t know where. That’s why you need me.”

Graves was quiet for a moment before he stated, “No.”

Desmond frowned at that.

“We’ve retrieved Soma and it’s now en route to General Shepherd’s location.” Graves informed him, lips curving into that cocky smile of his that Desmond had actually liked, “You’re not the only one with Eagle Vision, Desmond.”

“Then why do you need-” Desmond stopped, eyes widening as he realized, “You need me to activate it.”

“Only your genes can activate Soma.” Graves answered with a nod, “According to our research, the power Soma holds can be used as targeted strikes but it needs an Anima to control the strikes.”

“You want me to use Soma to take down the Templars.” Desmond realized, eyes widening even further as he added, “To attack Abstergo facilities!”

“There are innocent people there!” Desmond shouted, “Not everyone in Abstergo are Templars, Graves!”

“And they killed children during the Great Purge!” Graves shouted back, “Do you think they were Assassins too, Desmond?! Do you think everyone the Templars killed during the Great Purge were Assassins?! Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters…”

“The Templars did not give us mercy then, why should we show them mercy now?!” Graves asked as he kept his weapon lowered while taking a step toward Desmond. Alejandro, Soap, and Ghost pointed their guns at Graves but Graves kept his eyes on Desmond, “You weren’t there to see it! You were safe in William Miles’ little Farm!”

“But we…” Graves took a step back and raised his arms as he announced, “We are the shadows that were left behind by that genocide! We are the shadows that will avenge the dead!”

“And you’re the sun that will make us larger than we have ever been.” Graves announced as he offered his hand to Desmond, “This is it, Desmond. This is our time to turn the tide. No more staying in the shadows, no more hiding from Abstergo or the Templars.”

“With you as the Anima…” Graves’ eyes were clear but Desmond could hear the fanaticism in his voice, “We will burn the Templars to the ground once more.”

“Just like Ezio Auditore did in Cappadocia.”

Desmond took a step back as he said, “No.”

Desmond shook his head as he shouted, “No! Cappadocia was a mistake!”

“I won’t do it, Graves.” Desmond stated before staring at the men who all had different shades of blue and white right now behind Graves, “This isn’t our way. This isn’t how our Brotherhood should be.”

“The Brotherhood we have now, William Miles’ Brotherhood, is nothing more than a rat scurrying in the sewers on its own shit!” Graves argued before slowly taking out a white phone from his back pocket.

“What’s that, Graves?!” Soap shouted as he aimed at the phone.

“Relax. I’m making a call to someone Desmond would want to speak to.” Graves said calmly as he pressed the call button before showing the phone to all of them, “Shepherd told me you wouldn’t see reason. That you’re too soft.”

“I was stupid enough to think he’s wrong. That you would have Ezio Auditore’s courage instead.” Graves stated as he glared at Desmond.

“Don’t talk to me about Ezio. I know Ezio more than anyone in the world! He wouldn’t have approved of this!” Desmond shouted, trying to get the men behind Graves to see the truth.

“Ezio Auditore took Rome from Borgia rule by fire and blood.” Shepherd’s voice was heard from the phone and the phone’s screen changed to a video of Shepherd, “And we will take the world back from Abstergo’s control.”

“Shepherd.” Soap growled as he glared at the phone.

“Graves, take everyone in.” Shepherd ordered, “If our Anima does not wish to take his proper place for the sake of the Brotherhood then he will do it for the people he cares about.”

“If you think we’re just going to let you take us-”

“You will.” Shepherd cut Soap off as he said, “Desmond will make sure of it.”

“What?”

“Have you forgotten?” Shepherd asked calmly, “The two transfers in Shadow Company?”

Desmond froze as Shepherd stepped to the side, revealing…

“Shaun! Rebecca!” Desmond shouted as he saw the slumped figures of Shaun and Rebecca tied to the chairs.

“You saved the world once, Desmond.” Shepherd stated and stepped back to the frame of the video once more, “It’s time to save it once more, son.”

The video cut at that and Graves returned the phone to his back pocket. He aimed his gun at Alejandro calmly as he said, “You heard the commander, Desmond. It’s time to come home.”

A tense silence fell on all of them.

Until…

“Take cover!” Ghost ordered and they all reacted immediately, falling to their stomach just as one of the men behind Graves suddenly threw two smoke grenades.

“Left side, go!” Ghost ordered and all of them immediately rolled to the left just as they heard the sounds of gunshots erupting.

“Hold your fire! Find and secure Desmond!” Graves shouted from the smoke and everyone skidded downward. Ghost unpinned one of his grenades and threw it back to the road. One of Graves’ men grabbed it in midair and dropped it to the floor as they jumped off, skidding towards them.

“She’s with us!” Ghost shouted as Soap and Alejandro aimed their gun at the member of Shadow company, “Run! We’ll lose them in the buildings!”

Ghost took point as they all begin to run just as the grenade finally exploded, keeping Graves and his men preoccupied for a few precious seconds.

The Shadow company member with them threw their helmet off and took off their balaclava and Desmond blinked when he recognized the blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Galina!?” Desmond shouted.

“Hello, Desmond.” Galina nodded at him as they continued to run, using the same fake deep American accent he heard from Shadow 1-3. Her next words were spoken in her natural Russian accent, “William Miles told me to tell you if Graves and Shepherd did betray us...”

Galina smirked as she said, “You’re in command, Desmond.”

========================

I'm sorry, nonny. I know you wanted bamf! Desmond but this plot point has been on my mind ever since I thought of OG Shepherd knowing about POEs.

(The Italian translation of We work in the dark to serve the light is directly taken from the Italian subs of AC2. If I knew more Italian, I would have changed it to We work in the shadows to serve the light XD)

(At this point, I really should just make a full fic of this crossover XD)

[letthewhumpbegin]

Scars - Bullet Train

Fandom: Bullet Train Characters: Tangerine, Lemon Prompt: Scars Requested by: anonymous Word count: 1072 Warnings: mentions of scars, gunshot wound, blood, painful wound cleaning. Mild swearing.

A/N: sorry for the long(er) wait on this request. I was struggling a little bit with getting the dynamic between these two right, and I hope I've succeeded in that now 😁 Also, scars is not the biggest plotline in this fic, but it is a major theme throughout.

Lemon's hands hovered over Tangerine's shoulder. The bullet wound to the back of his brother's shoulder was in need of care, but Lemon knew extracting the bullet still lodged in Tangerine's flesh was going to be anything but pleasant.

"Just get it over with," Tangerine growled. He sat, bare-chested, on a chair with Lemon standing behind him. He knew why his brother hesitated, and, quite frankly, he rather didn't do this either. It was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, he was well aware of that. But leaving the bullet in his shoulder wasn't an option either, so it had to be done.

"Give me a second, okay?" Lemon grumbled back, "I'm about to pry this bullet out of you without any kind of anesthetic, so excuse me for needing some time." Lemon hadn't meant to snap at his brother, but he couldn't help but feel nervous about this. What he had to do was going to hurt Tangerine, and the thing he hated most was hurting his brother.

"Deep breaths." Lemon rested a hand on Tangerine's bare shoulder, and in his other hand he tightly grabbed a pair of large tweezers. He felt Tangerine's muscles tense up in silent anticipation of the pain he knew was coming.

Everything in him screamed not to do it, but Lemon willed himself to push the tweezers into the gunshot wound. Tangerine sucked in a sharp breath through clenched jaws. He felt all his muscles tremble involuntarily as the excruciating pain threatened to make him pass out.

"Stay with me, mate." The words almost tenderly rolled off Lemon's lips, sounding nothing like their usual banter. "I'm trying." Tangerine's voice quivered. "But this... it bloody hurts." Lemon stopped what he was doing for a moment to give his brother a breather. Of course he knew in advance that this procedure was going to be painful, but to make Tangerine fall apart like this, it must be downright excruciating.

"Do you remember how you got this scar?" Lemon asked in an attempt to focus Tangerine's mind on something else for a little bit. His fingers brushed softly over a clearly visible scar on his brother's ribs. "Thailand," Tangerine answered, strained, "that idiot stuck a blade right between my ribs." "Well, you did shoot him first," Lemon commented dryly, before carefully sticking the tweezers back in Tangerine's wound in another attempt to fish the bullet out. Tangerine grunted against the fresh wave of pain. "He had it coming."

Lemon finally heard the tweezers tick against the bullet. He must be close to getting it out now.

"Remember those guard dogs on that job in Italy?" Talking about these random things seemed to calm Tangerine somewhat, so Lemon kept the conversation going. "Those fucking beasts." Tangerine rolled his eyes. "They took a right chuck out of my calf. Turned into some nasty scars as well."

Of course Lemon knew this. He knew all about Tangerine's scars, because he was the one who tended to all the wounds that had turned into these scars. Lemon never bled, but Tangerine sure did. He always turned out to be the one catching the bullets, or being on the receiving end of a dog's bite or the pointy end of a knife. Huh, Lemon thought suddenly, maybe Tangerine was the reason that he himself never bled....

"Got it!" Lemon exclaimed rather cheerily. He finally got a good grip on the bullet and was able to carefully pull it out of his brother's shoulder. Tangerine almost screamed out in pain as the bullet came free from his flesh. He sat breathing hard and trying to blink away the black spots clouding his vision, as the pain reached a whole new level of excruciating.

Lemon would love to reassure his brother that it was over, but having the bullet out was only the start. Now he still had to clean the wound and stitch it up.

"This'll turn into a nice scar, too, eh?" Tangerine nervously eyed the bowl of water Lemon now dipped a towel in. "Probably." Lemon nodded.

Without any announcement, Lemon held the wet towel over Tangerine's shoulder and squeezed it out. "F... fuckin' hell!" Tangerine hissed violently at the burning, stinging pain that filled his shoulder as the water ran over and into his wound. Lemon felt his brother start to tremble anew under his hands, and he could see Tangerine come undone by the pain.

"Sorry about that," Lemon mumbled. He had to force himself to continue, but knew he had to be thorough when treating the wound, for Tangerine's sake. So even though his brother whimpered and hissed in pain, Lemon dipped the towel in the bowl of water again and held it against Tangerine's shoulder.

"I only gotta do a few stitches now," Lemon announced after a few minutes. "Do them better than last time," Tangerine grumbled, still trembling from all the pain he had had to endure today. "Otherwise it will look like that scar from the meat hook in my arm in Spain."

Lemon's eyes lingered momentarily on the ugly scar on the bicep of Tangerine's left arm. That indeed hadn't been his best work. "I've gotten better," Lemon chuckled devilishly, "you've given me plenty of practice since then." "Very funny," Tangerine huffed, "I don't suppose you have anything to numb the pain for this either?" Lemon shrugged nonchalantly. "I could punch you." "I've had enough of those today, thank you." Tangerine slowly shook his head. "Get going then."

Lemon worked as fast as he could on the stitches. He hadn't been lying when he said he had gotten more skilled at this, but he still didn't do it every day. So, unfortunately, it would be adding yet another scar to Tangerine's body.

"Are you nearly done?" Tangerine whimpered after a few minutes. "I can't take much more." Sure enough, he looked closer to passing out than any time before, and it was through sheer willpower that he was able to cling on to consciousness still. "All done, mate." Lemon tied a knot in the last of the stitches, before securing a bandage in place.

"Fuckin' hell, man." Tangerine passed a trembling hand over his face. "Let's not do this again." Lemon chuckled softly as he cleaned the blood off his hands on another towel. "You say that every time." "Yeah, well," Tangerine chuckled wryly, "I've really got enough scars now."

Make a request from my prompts list Useful Links Section | Writing masterlist