#I can never get the ladies to want me back

[sapphira-mydnyte]

♥ Fashion King Ominis ♥

Warning: Language & nothing more.

Summary: Ominis getting his revenge on his family in a way that was sensible earned him more than he ever bargained for, but for it, he traded nothing more than his own dark chains to their fate. He wanted to be the best at something, but standing at the top meant a lot to him for good reasons that his family hated the most.

Try as Tom Riddle might, he could NEVER compare to the style mile that his blond uncle walked. Even among the other pureblood families, he was the one that everyone tried to out-dress. From the Malfoys to the Blacks & even the rest of the Gaunts themselves, none ever took the crown from him when it came to fashion. His blindness didn't faze his sense of style either, but instead, enhanced it. What he couldn't see, he could feel & his wand showed him the rest in place of his failed eye sight. The Ministry held him to the highest standards of the magical world in terms of looking good & he took it in a full stride.

Ominis didn't need to be a dark wizard like his family, he needed his freedom & with the Sallows, he gained it. With them, his sense of fashion sharpened & the twins helped him every step of the way as they could. Anne, although sick, still put her best efforts into whatever he enjoyed wearing. Whether it was embroidery or simple stitching, she was happy in helping him. "For everything they've done to him, he is deserving of this chance! Ominis is, truthfully, far too pretty to be sitting at home. At least in this way, I can still help out, even if it's a little at a time." Sebastian was nobody's fool when it came to boots & coats either. He gave his all in this fight with his sister to get Ominis where he wanted to be & everything paid off in the end. Ominis won galleons in fashion shows & even dueling competitions alongside Sebastian as a teammate. "If my best friend is going to have his revenge in his way, then I'll make damn sure he looks as big of a badass as he needs to be. Nobody is taking Ominis down with us backing him... not even his own family."

Although he was still feared due to his family, Ominis was nice to everyone he had to be around, up until somebody said something disrespectful towards one of the ladies. He took up arms for the girls in the fashion shows that were having a hard time with any of the guys & they stayed by his side whenever he was around. The ladies found it funny when they were with Ominis as he broke the hearts of many men by having such a following of women. Jaws dropped, jealousy levels ran high & the other men stood no chance of winning a woman whenever Ominis was around.

Even the married men caught their wives looking at him! Unfortunately, for the married men, Ominis wasn't having their disrespect to their wives in what got said sometimes. He was cold & took no shit from any woman's husband when it came to how they got treated. "Disrespect her & I'll be the last thing you see! Learn to have some bloody damned manners & let her TRY to make you something nice like what I'm wearing! She deserves to try & I know she CAN do it, so stop being a jealous prick about her looking at me." With that line alone, he won the hearts of every female & kid & also shattered the heart of every grown man, married or not, in range. It wasn't often that Ominis raised his voice, but as the most sought after man in the fashion world, he made it clear that the women were to be respected since they took far longer to get ready for a social event than any man.

Of all the Gaunts, Ominis was more than an heir of Slytherin, he was the fashion king of their house & his legacy left quite a lasting impression upon the house. Although the house still held too much darkness within it, he inspired many to dress better at the least, but at best? Some within the house eventually did find that he was right all along about Salazar & dressed better for more than one reason. Eventually, style, manners & love flowed through the house, but it was a slow & painful process.

One lucky soul found one of the last portraits of this proud heir hidden away in a long forgotten shack for what seemed to be no reason. "No way! No bloody way! You're... you're one of the Gaunts." Ominis raised himself up with his long black cane, its silver shining in the sunlight that poured from the dusty windows as he turned towards the warm rays. He hadn't felt that warmth in so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like, but it felt good to him. The heat slowly sunk through his black coat, warming him for the first time in years, but at that moment in time... he was ageless... forever sealed in a picture frame. "That I am, although I hope you're not too frightened of me. I'm not as mean as the rest of my family." The young one's eyes finally found the name at the bottom & dusted it off, their jaw dropping as they read it out loud. "Oh my... you're not just any Gaunt. You're Ominis! The legendary fashion king of the entire house of Slytherin!" The blond let out a laugh, not expecting anybody to be so happy to find him.

"Who in their right mind gave me that title? I love it!" The young one that found him was astounded that he had a sense of humor & a fairly fun one at that. "My grandfather & he thinks its funny that his own father couldn't even match up to you." "Seriously? Who is he?" "You'd know the name since it's one of the 28 families. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy to be exact." Ominis turned to the one that had found him with a look of utter shock. "MALFOY?! Oh bloody hell, I was NOT expecting them to put one on me, but it's a far better title that the rest of my family. I'll have to give your grandfather my thanks for that one, and you are?" The young one couldn't have been more than maybe 21 to 23 if he had to take a guess. "Lola, Lola Malfoy, Draco's grand-daughter."

Happy anniversary to Hogwarts Legacy and thanks for creating who is my favorite character✨🐍

[firealder2005]

I honestly don’t post about any sports all that often. But this Super Bowl compelled me to write this.

Now, right out the gate I will tell you I am a KC Chiefs fan. I was born one. I am a third-generation fan, going back to my grandpa who picked them at 19 when they were a godawful team and barely televised through my mom’s childhood, because only the good teams were televised then — so if they could watch them, it was to watch them get POUNDED.

I got to watch them win a Super Bowl after a 50 year drought. It was an exhilarating feeling, especially since I was constantly picked on at school by a classmate because of my team (he would go out of his way to harass me whenever his team — Ravens, btw — beat the Chiefs. And he was blissfully quiet the whole day after).

I got to see them win another one two years ago, in the affectionately nicknamed Kelce Bowl because of the Kelce brothers playing against each other. That was a fun year.

And another one after that.

Am I all that cut up about them losing this year?

No. I am not. Because I know it’s just a game. The dudebros need to chill out fr.

But I also know that this year…it wasn’t quite just a game, either. There’s other forces at play.

I honestly had no idea that some of the major Chiefs players supported trump until today. Just before I started writing this, in fact. I didn’t know trump wanted them to win either.

There was a bad taste in my mouth when I found that out.

I don’t consider myself to be a fanatic fan. But I am a proud fan. Someone once called me a bandwagon and I got offended.

But. But.

I am not a fan of this. Of the support and cozying up to of fascism, racism, queerphobia, you name it. It boggles my mind too because there are Black players on the Chiefs, there are Black players who CARRY the NFL’s legacy on their backs, and to support the trump administration is to take away their support.

You know what I am a fan of?

The political message of Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show.

I have never listened to any of Kendrick’s discography. I’ve never really been all that into hip hop or rap (my whiteness is showing I know).

Honestly, while I was watching, a lot of what was going on flew over my head. And I also had a hard time hearing the lyrics 🫣 again, not used to this genre of music 😅

But that’s what I thank tumblr for. Tumblr always has a way of bringing the unknown into the spotlight, and expanding my own knowledge on it.

I am very much not knowledgeable on the Black history surrounding Kendrick’s performance. But looking back, with a fresh set of eyes, what I do know and have put in effort to learn starts to be clear.

And I think it was genius. I think Kendrick Lamar’s performance is what saved this Super Bowl for me because I am vastly disappointed in my team right now, and still would have been even if they won.

I do not begrudge the Eagles their win. After all, this was a rematch 😜 Only fair you have your time to shine.

But in all seriousness, I think I prefer a loss to a win simply because I would not be able to enjoy that win knowing what I do now.

Besides. if it comes with the bonus of trump’s night being ruined? having to live with spending TAXPAYER MONEY (my money!!) to go and watch the game only to leave halfway through because Kendrick called him out? good. I can handle the sidelong taunts about the Chiefs and their bad decisions. I am mature enough to see that.

I am mature enough to see that an Eagles win, packed with Kendrick Lamar ripping the right a new one, is a win for us all — Chiefs fans included.

The next four years will be tough. But with such a spectacular performance? The trans flag? The Palestine and Sudan flag? Everything?

I think we have what we need to keep fighting. Kendrick, Chappell Roan, Lady Gaga, all of these artists lending their voices to support those who will be grievously impacted by what comes next is so important, especially at events like the Grammies and the Super Bowl. It shows that people care.

It shows that we can always care.

It’s just a game, yeah. But now it’s so much more.

[sbarrysncream]

David and Cush are the GOATs of the Macbeths

(in my opinion)

I think the reason I liked David and Cush so much as Lord and Lady Macbeth is because they actually felt like a couple that had been married for several years, and had gone through some shit. In other clips of the characters that I had seen before I watched the Donmar recording, the Macbeths always seem very passionate, which, don't get me wrong, you absolutely want with these characters, but passionate in a way that always read to me as new love. Not necessarily young love, but new, passionate, exploratory love. Whereas with DT and CJ, you can tell from the moment they are first on stage with one another that they of course love, respect, and cherish the fuck out of each other....but they are so fucking exhausted, and have been for a while. Which I, not only found very realistic, but I also found it more romantic. (I'm also asexual, so I may be biased, lol)

Like, these two are so traumatized, morally grey, angry, and scared, and yet they still have time for the little things like swaying back and forth with each other, making fun of each other, yelling at each other, all while having insane respect for each other.

idk man, ive never done a review of a show before, idk if you'd even call this rant a review, but this has been going around in my mind ever since I watched it, and I just needed to share my brain worms.

my murderous blorbos

[rose24207]

Lando taps your car, sending you into a devastating crash that leaves you in critical condition, shocking the F1 world.

"And here we go, ladies and gentlemen! It’s an intense fight for P3 between McLaren’s Lando Norris and Aston Martin’s Y/N L/N! With just six laps to go, neither driver is willing to give an inch!"

"Y/N has been absolutely stellar today. She’s held off both Ferraris, she’s fought wheel-to-wheel with Hamilton, and now she’s desperately defending against Norris, who has the pace advantage on those fresher tires."

"Lando’s got the DRS down the straight—he’s closing in rapidly! Y/N moves to the inside to cover it off, but Norris feints left, then right—trying to force an error. She doesn’t budge! This is masterclass defending!"

"This is nail-biting stuff! Lando looks to the outside into Turn 9, but Y/N holds firm! Oh, she’s squeezing him wide, making sure he has no space to switch back! That’s absolutely brilliant racecraft!"

"You can hear the tension in the crowd, Ted. Every single fan is on their feet! They know how much this podium means to Y/N—she’s been fighting all season for this moment!"

"But Lando is relentless, Crofty! He’s going to try again—this battle isn’t over!"

"And here they come into Turn 10—Norris is going for it! He’s sending it up the inside—"

"OH NO! CONTACT! CONTACT! Y/N IS AROUND! SHE’S GONE STRAIGHT INTO THE WALL!"

"THAT IS A MASSIVE CRASH! RED FLAG! RED FLAG IMMEDIATELY!"

"Oh my god—Y/N’s car is destroyed! The impact—she’s hit that barrier head-on at full speed! This is a horrifying accident!"

"There’s debris everywhere, Crofty! The car snapped around instantly when Lando tapped her rear tire—she was a complete passenger! There was nothing she could do!"

"The medical teams are already sprinting to the scene. This does not look good."

"We have radio from Lando Norris—"

"‘No, no, no, no—oh my god—NO! Is she okay?! Please tell me she’s okay! I—oh my god—I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!’"

"Lando Norris is in absolute distress. You can hear it in his voice—he’s completely shattered."

"‘I touched her tire—I didn’t mean to! Oh god, please—tell me she’s moving! I—fuck, I’m so sorry!’"

"Lando is crying over the radio. He can barely breathe between his words."

"This is utterly heartbreaking, Crofty. He knows this is serious. He knows how bad this looks."

"‘I can’t—oh god, please, please let her be okay—’"

"His engineer is trying to calm him down, but Lando isn’t responding properly—he’s in complete shock."

"McLaren is calling him into the pits, but I don’t even think he’s hearing them right now, Ted. He sounds absolutely broken."

"You can hear a pin drop in the grandstands. No one is speaking. The entire pit lane is frozen, staring at the screens in horror."

"The medical teams have arrived, but we still have no word on Y/N’s condition. They’ve pulled a privacy screen up around the wreckage—"

"That’s never a good sign. We’ve seen it before, and it never gets easier. This is the worst-case scenario."

"Drivers are being told to return to the pit lane. Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton… none of them are speaking. Even over the radios, there’s nothing but stunned silence."

"This is the darkest moment we’ve seen in Formula 1 for years."

"We’re receiving an update now—Y/N is being transported to the medical center. Reports indicate that she is in critical condition. The impact was catastrophic."

"This is an absolute nightmare. Lando Norris, McLaren, Aston Martin—no one wanted this. No one."

"For now, all we can do is wait… and hope."

"All thoughts are with Y/N, her family, and the entire F1 community."

A/N: a little drabble because I had a shitty day :(

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom

[bunnyinvanilla]

scary dog privilege with your old, gruff and scary sugar daddy!john price?

given you’re always a well mannered girl, you never cause conflicts, but if something were to happen with someone and you wanted to take advantage of your daddy being scary, old, intimidating and huge to just defend you?

maybe at the bar, a rude costumer not even lifting their eyes from the table as they ordered something else from you, without acknowledging your presence or saying hi, politely.

”another beer with ice,”

you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, and tilted your head, speaking with your usual polite and sweet voice. “im sorry?” “another beer, at my table” same tone, same words, not even a smile.

clearly you hadn’t heard that wrong — your expression softened, and you lowered your notebook, looking like an upset bunny who’d just gotten offended,

you were always so sweet and kind with everyone, and john often tried to teach you that not everyone would always reciprocate your kindness, he wanted to warn you about mean, rude people who would upset his little girl :(

but you always got sad, not understanding why people couldn’t just be nice.

“no, sir, excuse me, i was waiting for you to say please, you could at least look at me you know..”

he frowned, narrowing his eyes like you’d said the most incoherent thing in the world, and gave you an ironic look “it’s your job to serve me a drink, dear”

you blinked your eyes, dumbfounded, hoping he’d understand what you were gently trying to say, keeping a low tone of voice “yes, and as a human being, your job is to be polite and kind? where are your manners?”

“little lady, what’s your problem? im paying you, you’re not giving me a gift, little girl”

“yet kindness is free,” you were undeterred, crossing your arms over your blouse and giving him an exasperated look, tilting your hip.

he shifted on his chair, crossing his legs together and throwing his arm behind the chair’s head. “let me speak with the manager, then”

“oh, you can speak directly to my boss, if you’d like” you shrugged, aware of how that situation would end up, and strolled down to john’s usual private table, walking calmly and quietly.

once in front of him, you leaned forward and pressed your hands flat against the wooden table’s surface, stretching your arms, wearing the most innocent and docile look “daddy,”

john turned his attention towards you, his half empty glass of whiskey trapped between his firm, thick fingers “there’s the love of my life, what is it, doll face?”

you leaned closer to him, tilting your head slightly, practically almost bending over his seat “a costumer wants to talk to you, he’s gonna complain about me because i wouldn’t serve him unless he asked politely,”

you blinked your dollish, doe eyes at him, so big and round and innocent they told him ‘take my defense and then fuck me, please’, a little pout making you push out your bottom lip.

”does he now…” john muttered under his breath, his warm eyes slowly taking in every inch of your figure, your lacy thigh highs and uniform skirt — he lifted is glass to let the liquid trail down his throat with a swift, fast seep, before setting it down “aight, doll, daddy’ll take care of it, princess, don’t worry”

he gripped the armrest of his chair, pushing himself up to a standing position, but you quickly reached for him and gently grabbed him by the sleeve

“he wasn’t mean, sir, he just didn’t want to say please and you know how much that upsets me..please don’t get angry at him” the way you furrowed your brows together was so adorable price had to physically restrain himself from just picking you up and throw you over his buff shoulders

but he gave you a little frown, lifting his hand to pinch your chin affectionately, grabbing it in between his forefinger and thumb “how many times have i told you you’re always too nice, love? people are gonna take advantage of that, doll”

you straightened your back, locking your hands together behind your back and lifted your chin, letting him squeeze your it again “but that’s why I have you to come rescue me, daddy…”

he let out a deep chuckle, briefly shaking his head before he let go of your chin with a last, little squeeze “these blokes can’t even let this poor old man rest in peace, how can someone be rude to such a sweet girl, they really like pissing me off huh? got the nerve to disrespect my girl”

and with that, he walked past you, towards the guy who’d just been too busy to ask you nicely, or say a simple ‘please’’ — but john had promised he’d never let anyone mistreat his polite girl’s manners, especially inside his own bar.

[lumdays]

please notice me, prince!! ♡

au by @alli-ily << i've been meaning to join this au for a little while now hehehe

*click for better quality LMAO,,, sorry i have no idea why it's so fucked up but i did transcript the important stuff down here if you want

sir? dame? siyun (aka azul's worst nightmare)

"though they are very capable, they're quite unpopular with nobles as they tend to disobey even direct orders if they figure that there is a more efficient way to do things. they're also a little too honest for high society's taste."

siyun hails from far away lands, practically another world (hehe nod to them being a yuu). it is known that they have two younger siblings and that their parents are both well but it seems that they are no longer in contact.

...ashengrotto despises them (they give him SO many headaches, FREE HIM 🙏🙏)

some more stuff utc,, ARGHHH I BRAINROT OVER AUS LIKE THIS SO FAST💔💔💔 it's the evil manhwa lover in me

ALRIGHT SOOO.... the reason why i keep mentioning azul is because In My Head (please correct me if i'm wrong/you don't want me making up stuff HELPPP i didn't know what to go off aside that there's a bunch of kingdoms and nobles), he was accused/is suspected of embezzlement and siyun was dispatched to monitor him.

...they might as well be the bane of his existence honestly. embezzlement is likely the one crime he has yet to commit but with a highly competent knight keeping a close eye on him, it's gotten a lot harder for him to do anything that is remotely not outstanding-member-of-society material, which pisses him off to no end (...that's kinda just his own assumptions though LMAO, siyun does NOT care that much about the matters of some rich merchant,, unless someone gets hurt that is).

ANYWAYS. this made me think i should probably write down how they feel about lady ariya and prince shin

starting with lady ariya

siyun truly admires her resolve to clear her family's name. but they also can't help but feel something akin pity for her, the path she chose for herself will be long and arduous, especially alone—very few manage to walk out, head held high and pride intact. still, she seems like a promising young lady and siyun is a hopeful person, "i will assist you should you ever call for me."

prince shin (@liyuviq)

humble beginnings, big responsibilities. it's a bit presumptuous, but siyun sort of relates to the illegitimate prince. perhaps not fully—they never experienced Suddenly Being A Royal and sincerely hoped they never would, even in another universe. however, they can relate to the whiplash, the struggle to cram into a few months—no, weeks—everything the other nobles learned over the years, the stares, the whispers... they remember how it all felt, and when they look at their highness shin, they can only hope that they will rise through it all. "then again, i do know i am not your highness. perhaps you don't feel even a fraction of the dread that filled me back then—i would be very glad if so."

i hope i'm not overstepping 👉👈,, aghh also open for interactions for anyone interested hdhdhhdshd, i haven't checked the tag yet HELP

as for the hypothetical target of their affection,,, i fear it may be butler jade 💀💀........... I'M A SUCKER FOR BUTLER X KNIGHT ARCHETYPE 💔💔💔ALSO I BRAINROT OVER YUNDE 2MUCH💔AH AND quick lore rundown

i imagine their knighthood still stands in another empire—or kingdom,,, sorry my knowledge of the world building here is a little vague HDUAJHF. anyway the point is that they are skilled enough for the royal family themselves to take them under their heavy golden wing—until the ashengrotto accusations and they're given bits and pieces of their freedom back.

I'M REALLY SORRY MOOTS THIS IS JUST ME YAPPING ON AND ON..... but like this au's really sick‼️‼️‼️ tags - @heyhellohihowareyou @elenauaurs @distant-velleity @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @skriblee-ksk @sickle-stick @puowei @jadelover69 @tixdixl @nemisisnemi @angelwishess @theleechyskrunkly @chillygourami @bunniehunn @cheerleaderman UUUH DID I FORGET ANYONE.....

[totallybakedcake]

"Of course!"

You saw your friends, your only family, die in front of you.

It repeated again and again. Their deaths, the blood, the pain, and the trauma.

Everything was too tough, every single thing reminded you of the incident.

How you all crashed out in your home and how they convinced you to become a hunter.

Going on trips, shopping, eating out, being each other's emotional support, and whatnot.

It was terrifying, the monsters coming endlessly and blood being shed every other second. Your mind stopped, your body couldn't move, and everything was in a haze. By the time you were back to your senses.

Everyone dead.

It was pitiful, no one to go to, no one to call, no one to comfort you or get you back up on your feet.

Stomach pain, headache, body ache. It was getting to you, but not an inch did you move from the bed. Just replaying the scene over and over again.

But someone was watching this.

"How is she?" Jinwoo asked as he sat on the couch, he knew you were in pain, after all, he was the one sent to complete the dungeon after things went wrong.

He vividly recalls the scene. You were sitting there, eyes practically dead as there was a sea of blood and lots of bodies scattered everywhere. Jinwoo, at first thought you were dead by how lifelessly you sat there, not blinking or moving an inch.

He had to touch you to see if you were alive.

Beru, Jinwoo's shadow soldier, quickly came out to check. "She is alive, my liege, just unconscious while sitting."

Jinwoo felt angry, mad, upset, and guilty for not arriving earlier. He even can see the image of you having a panic attack over and over again when you woke up and heard everyone was dead. It reminded him of when his mother experienced the same panic attack when his dad went missing.

He wanted to check up on you, but it was weird, you both never talked, and suddenly he pops up to see your condition. Perhaps it was not too odd, but Jinwoo had his shadows, and he would much rather use them instead.

----

"My liege, lady (name) has not done anything but just lie on the bed and look out the window. She does not eat well or drink enough water. Her phone keeps going off, but she never picks it up."

Damnit, the situation is so terrible, and Jinwoo needs to help you. Whatever you think or others think, he just wants to help you.

Huff, you can do this, he encourages himself as he rings the doorbell.

One time

Two times

Three times

Four times

No answer.

"(Name), I know you are in there and are not okay, just let me come home, and I will not be trouble." He yells from outside and continues to ring the doorbell.

A loud groan escapes your lips as you get up lazily to open the door.

"Hunter Sung, please, I am not okay and-"

He barges inside and starts to work, taking out the groceries he has bought to make you a good big meal, his shadow soldiers make you sit on the sofa as they clean the mess your house is in.

"Excuse me, you cannot—" Jinwoo swiftly shushes you up, not letting you say anything as he asks you to go take a nice shower and not argue a single bit with him.

How can you describe this? Being forced to bathe and let a man you've never had a conversation with take care of you like a mom.

Jinwoo made you sit on the couch as you came out, grabbing your chin and making you eat stew.

No words were exchanged between both of you for a good while. Well, words were not needed, so why talk?

Both of you knew that this was great, you liked it how Jinwoo took care of you, and Jinwoo enjoyed taking care of you.

After chewing, you both ask at the same time.

"Do you want to stay?" "Can I stay here for a while?"

"Of course!" Both of you replied energetically.

First of all I want to give credits to @kgymz for the adorable divider. Thank you, I love this.

I actually wanted to do a valentine series (which i mentioned in my other fic) but writer's block hit and i couldnt do it but i had another jinwoo fic planned which now might take a while to upload but anyways this makes me think if im going to do an event, should i start 2 months prior so that i can upload them even if i get a writer's block in between?

[short-honey-badger]

Hi, can I request a Shamrock salad? Some pirate pulls a Luffy on some asshole Celestial and so the Godknights pull up! Pirate lady runs off but not before barely kicking Shamrock's ass which resulted in him becoming obsessed/infatuated with her. Hunts her relentlessly but someone caught her first (marines? enemy pirates? bounty hunters? surprise me) and Shamrock furiously kills people then takes her because goddammit he should've been the one to capture her and put her in chains (look, he even brought gold cuffs with 24k diamonds to bring out the bling bling)

My dear. I'm so sorry that this took a minute to get to lol, but I really hope you enjoy!

Insolent Pirate Woman

Pairings! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! almosy 3k of pure SMUT! breeding kink, viginal fingering, chains, and cuffs. Lap sex. Unintentional voyeurism.

Masterlist for Shamrock and Shanks-> HERE

Shamrock would never admit that he was pouting, but to anyone outside that saw the disgruntled god knight currently holding his broken and bleeding nose, most would likely call it like they saw it. He had shown up to cull the commotion that one of the many pirates entering the new world had started. It wasn't hard to find the reason behind said commotion, but before he could bring the pirate in, you'd sprang past him, socking him in the face, before you disappeared into the thick forests that surrounded Sabaody.

The god knight had been too surprised to pursue you, but he could remember your face and had sworn to track you down and bring you in himself. The two of you had had several run-ins after that, and like usual, you escaped him each time. But each time he saw you, with that big smile upon your face, hiding away the immense strength you possessed, Shamrock fell further and further. So when he heard that you had finally been captured by a rather reputable bounty hunter, well, he couldn't have that, could he? No, the only one to bring you in would be him.

Shamrock set sail immediately, knowing that he would need to intercept the bounty hunters before they made it back to Sabaody where you would be cuffed and sold to the highest bidder, and he would be damned before he let that happen to you. Thankfully, it wasn't terribly difficult to track you down. He had connections in every part of the Grand Line, after all.

He could see the ship that held you from where he stood on the deck of his own ship. His eyes narrowed, and he barked an order to get them closer. The wind blew the way they needed, as if knowing that the god knight was in need of it.

With a flick of his wrist, the hilt of his sword met his hand, and with a slash, he watched in satisfaction as the water parted, waves crashing into the enemy ship. Wood splintered, the main sail leaning dangerously before ultimately cracking and falling on the deck below, crushing several bounty hunters underneath its weight. Now that the vessel was dead in the water, his own ship reached the bounty hunters with ease. Shamrock leaped from his deck, booted feet touching down on the broken mast as he stared down at the panicking plebeians who had somehow captured his favorite pirate.

“You have someone I want,” he announced, and without preamble, began to swiftly cut down the bounty hunters that stood in his way. They put up little fight against someone of his caliber, so it takes no time at all before the top deck is drenched in gore, blood staining his white pants and flecks of it painted across his face. He ignores the tacky feeling and lopes below the deck, following the winding hallways until he reaches the brig below.

He ignores the prisoners who beg for his help until he finds who he is looking for. You sit at the back of your cell, a bored look on your face, seemingly uninterested in the chaos above deck until you look up and see Shamrock on the other side of the bars. You grin, eyes curving into a mischievous smile as you look him up and down, “Awe. You came all this way to save little ole me?”

Shamrock rolls his eyes, reaches forward with both hands, and promptly rips the bars off the wall. You watch with wide eyes as he saunters forward and snaps the iron cuffs from your wrist, though any hope dies when you see the set of chains that he pulls out from behind his back. They are gilded and encrusted with gems, a collar, but a fancy collar.

“If you want to call it that,” he quips dryly as he locks the golden cuffs around your wrists. You eye them with interest, noting that the insides of the cuffs were lined with a soft leather to prevent them from digging into your skin. The chains that connect them are removable, a small locking clip that Shamrock had the key to.

“Did you have these specially made?” You question and watch with interest as the redhead before you flushes, his cheeks pinking just the slightest in obvious embarrassment. You grin, not put out at all over the cuffs.

“Yes.”

You snicker at his gruff answer, though it is cut short when Shamrock tugs the chain and you trip forward, hands coming up to land against his chest. You look up, head cocking in curiosity when your new jailer lifts a hand, gloved fingers sliding into your hair reverently, as if he can’t wrap his head around the fact that he finally has you in his possession. You watch him lick his lips, tracking the way his throat works, and that pink muscle slides along his flesh. Sudden arousal pools in your lower stomach, and you shift forward, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform.

The tension in the atmosphere is palpable, and it shatters when you lunge forward, lips meeting the holy knight’s own in a kiss of pure lust. The two of you have been dancing around this mutual attraction for months, for as much as Shamrock was obsessed with you, you were just as enamored with him. This kiss is more tongue and teeth, the two of you devouring one another with a simple-minded focus. You hiss when he nips your bottom lip, teeth digging into the sensitive skin before he pulls you away by your hair, staring down at you as he attempts to get his breathing back under his control.

You whine when he stops, but it is swiftly cut off when he bends, hand yanking your head back further to expose the span of your throat. He noses along your pulse, shoulders softening, and lips leaving a trail of dark marks behind his wake. You are just as soft and delightful as Shamrock had imagined you would be.

“You should have let me capture you sooner,” he murmurs against your flesh, and you shiver at his warm breath, eyes going half-lidded and hands pulling him ever closer to you.

“If I’d known this would happen, I would have,” you breathe, and shove your hands under the short jacket he wears, nails scraping against the fabric of his shirt as you breathe him in. Your body is on fire, arousal burning like lava through your veins. You meet his gaze when he pulls away, his eyes the color of the blood that paints his face. The sight should disgust you, but it only makes that lust burn even brighter. You grin up at him, lips a mischievous smile, “Are you going to fuck me or not, Shamrock?”

You grunt when you are spun around, you back slamming into the wall of your cell, wrists aching when he jerks the chain up. His free arm tucks under your ass, leveraging you against the wall as you wrap your legs around his hips. Shamrock grinds into the heat between your legs, and a groan rips from your throat when you feel his length press against your clothed cunt, the pressure fantastic, but still not enough.

“What a filthy mouth you have, darling,” he rumbles above you. He drops the chain in favor of grasping you by the face, his gloved fingers digging into your cheeks, “If we had more time here, I’d use it for something else.”

The warning makes lust shoot down your spine, eyes going wide before a smirk curls your lips and you wiggle your eyebrows at the holy knight, “How about next time?”

Shamrock huffs at you and then leans in, softening his grip just slightly and pressing his lips against your own, devouring your mouth in a kiss that's all sharp teeth and wet tongue. You meet his head on, soft groans leaving you as you clutch at his chest, needing more of that heady pleasure that the Holy knight happily delivers you. He grinds up against your cunt again, now free hand grasping you by the ass and pulling you into the motion, his fingers digging into the thick meat of your backside.

You drop your hands from his chest, suddenly too hot and frantic with the layers you have on. You jerk at your own shirt, popping buttons, and sending them skittering across the cell floor. That hot mouth trails from your lips and down your throat, leaving behind dark marks that would linger for the next couple of days at least, teeth harsh and digging into your sensitive flesh. You curse at the pain, but it just makes the pleasure you feel all the more intense, eyes going glassy as your work to get your damn bra off.

Shamrock pulls away and reaches out, fingers finding the thick band and snapping the fabric with a twist of his hand. You grab at the article, impatiently tug it off, and drop it to the floor, breasts prickling in the cooler air and nipples tightening. He smooths his hand along the now exposed flesh, cupping your breast and smoothing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple before taking the bud between two fingers and pinching meanly. You yelp and send him a glare, but Shamrock only smirks back before he dips his head to suck your abused nipple between his lips, tongue flattening along the bud and you toss back your head and whine loudly.

Neither of you is aware of how loud the two of you are being, no care in the world for the other prisoners that surround your cell. Far too lost within one another to give even a second thought to your audience.

You drop your hands again, fingers finding the string that holds your pants tight around your hips and plucking it loose. You work the fabric open, mind glazed over with arousal and fingers going clumsy until Shamrock takes notice and knocks your hands away so that he can do it himself. Needing a better surface to get to you on, he pushes away from the wall and stalks to the tiny cot at the end of the room, tugging your pants down to your thighs before he drops down so that you can settle back on his lap. You shiver when the cooler air ghosts over your cunt, but the feeling doesn't last long, not when those long fingers snake down and find your already soaked folds.

Shamrock groans at the feeling of sticky cream clinging to your pussy. He slides his fingers through the mess, thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing harsh half circles that make you keen and bow forward, gilded chains rattling as your clutch at his shirt, hips rocking forward to meet his hand. His fingers find your entrance with ease, and he smirks when he slides forward, your cunt welcoming his middle finger like it's always belonged there. You cry and whine against him, working yourself up to the first orgasm of many.

“That's it, Darling. Come on my hand, take your pleasure in how I touch you,” He rumbles and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, drinking in the sighs and moans that spill forth. He hums when you suddenly jerk in his hold, pussy fluttering and twitching as you cream around the finger he has stuffed inside of you. He shifts, and stuff two more inside your soaked cunt without remorse.

Your hips jerk at the sudden pain, but it is quickly overshadowed by the way Shamrock wriggles his fingers inside you, walls fluttering and stretching as he prepares you for something far bigger than three of his fingers. You can't help but reach up, hands dragging over his shoulders and nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, lips finding his own in a kiss that turns slow. His tongue works over your own, tangling together into a messy embrace that has saliva sticking your lips to his own.

“Sham, Sham, please,” you whine against his mouth and then pull away, big glassy eyes meeting his flaming burgundy ones as you beg, “I want your cock.”

Shamrock huffs again, face flushing and cock throbbing in his pants at the way you beg so sweetly. He pulls his fingers free and holds them up, and the two of you see how much your sticky slick coats his fingers. You watch in rapt attention as he shoves them into his mouth, tongue cleaning them with a rapturous look upon his face before he pops them free between his lips and drops his hand to work his pants free.

“I want that next time,” you say and shift impatiently on his lap, “Want to ride your face and suck your cock. Want to feel you come inside me until I can't take anymore.”

Shamrock grits his teeth at your dirty talk, finding it an incredible turn on, and slaps your exposed ass in retaliation. You gasp and hump forward, eyes going wide at the harsh touch, and so Shamrock does it again, his other hand shoving his underwear down and hissing when his cock jumps out. His length is shiny with precum, twitching with the need to be shoved inside of your waiting cunt.

“You'll never stray from my side after this, darling. You are mine. Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to wed,” Shamrock snarls and lifts you by the hip with one hand, your knees shaking on either side of his waist as he grasps his cock and holds it still. Your eyes are locked on the space between your thighs, and you watch as Shamrock pushes you down, lip bitten raw between your teeth as your cunt stretches and his cock disappears inside of you.

The feeling is perfect, his length hot and stretching you in all the best ways. He allows you but a second before he begins to move. The holy knight sets a rough pace that makes you bare your teeth in a silent snarl and hold onto his shoulders for dear life. You squeal when he suddenly shifts his angle, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot that knocks the breath out of you.

“There, right there,” you whine, and Shamrock proves that he can listen to orders, hips snapping up as he bullies that spot over and over. You feel that tension begin to ratchet back up, eyes going cross eyed and your cunt clenching around his cock as it drags along your walls.

Shamrock can feel himself getting close to that edge, but he doesn't want this feeling to stop. He could live like this the rest of his life, cock surrounded by your blazing cunt and quivering walls as you sucked him in greedily. He wants to see you stuffed full of his cum, wants to see his seed stick and stay until you are round with his child. You could never leave him, could never stray from his side without him there to take care of you.

The damn breaks and Shamrock snarls, molten cum streaming into your cunt and painting your walls white. He clutches you tightly against him, and you press just as close, hands gripping his shoulders as you cream around his cock, pussy tightening impossibly more and dragging him in as deep as he can go. His hips twitch and shift, fucking back into you with a lazy ease.

The two of you bask in the aftermath, nothing but the sound of obscene wet sounds that come from where the two of you are connected and heavy breathing. You shift in his lap, wanting to get a little more comfortable and press gentle kisses against his throat, humming in pleasure when he shifts under you and his softening cock drags along your walls. He presses his lips to the top of your head, and then snakes a hand under your jaw to pull you up for a kiss sweeter than the ones the two of you have shared so far.

Shamrock is surprisingly gentle as he pulls out of you, helping you stand and wiping away the mess that stains your thighs with the thin sheet of your cot before he pulls your pants back up and ties the string together. He sets himself right afterward and then takes hold of the gilded chain that connects to the golden cuffs around your wrists. The sight has arousal swimming in his lower stomach again, but he pushes it back down for now. He would have plenty of time to properly learn your body once he had you back on his ship.

“Not letting me go this time?” You quip, voice a little rough at the edges as you grin up at the holy knight. Shamrock meets your look with a smirk and shakes his head, tugging the chain he holds in his hand again.

“No. Not this time, darling.”

@mit-suri @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin @mfreedomstuff @sordidmusings

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Only Yesterday 4 ~ End

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, voyeurism, intimidation, isolation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Isolated and lonely in your life as your grandmother’s caretaker, you find yourself living vicariously through your neighbour.

Character: Nick Fowler

Note: I sat on half a chapter forever and I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like a love song, baby. Take care. 💖

You turn and march away from Nick. He chuckles and follows casually. There is no urgency in his step, as if he is certain of his goal.  

You twist the knob on the stove and put the kettle over the burner. He looms in the doorway, watching as you distract yourself with the tin of tea bags. Your hands are clumsy and shaking. You don’t know what to do to make him leave. You don’t think you can. 

“You don't gotta be so shy. Hell, I should be considering all you saw–" 

"Stop," you plead as you keep you back to him, "I told you it was a mistake." 

"Uh huh. Because it was wrong or because you got caught?" 

“Both,” you turn to face him, “please, I get it. Alright, I’m fucked up. I’m sorry I watch you but you don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what?” He asks with a soft smirk. 

You inhale and shrug, “terrorise me? Ruin my life? I don’t know what you’re doing but I want you to stop. Please, leave me alone.” 

His lips curve fully and he blows out between his lips, shaking his head as he comes closer. You hold yourself still, barely able to keep a tremble from breaking the surface. He steps around you at the last moment and goes to the cupboard. He takes out a cup and plucks free a teabag to drop inside. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, “do what I say and no one gets hurt.” 

The subtle shift in his tone unsettles you. Still mocking but sinister. You watch him as you cross your arms protectively. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She’s an old lady. One accident and… that’s that,” he leans on the stove as he faces you again, “so, you are going to sit down so I can make Ruth Ann her tea. I’ll get to you, don’t worry.” 

You hesitate, swaying in spot. You touch the side of your neck and frown. Your heart plummets to your feet. You’ve brought him to your grandmother’s front door, you’ll never forgive yourself if he goes any further than that. 

“Promise you won’t hurt her,” you eke out. 

“That’s all up to you,” he winks, “oh, and when I’m done serving the queen her nightly chamomile, I expect to find you ready.” 

“Ready?” You swallow. 

He tilts his head as his eyes wander down your body, “put on something less…. Just less.” He smirks, “nothing, preferably.” 

You hug yourself and frown. You can’t hold back the shudder. He didn’t say he won’t hurt you. 

“In the front room,” he stares at you, his brows tweak, and he taps the tip of your nose. “Go on, won’t be long before the water’s ready.” 

You lower your eyes and sidle away. Your eyes gloss hotly as you march into the front room. You glance at the windows. The evening paints the balcony in shadows. 

You stand in front of the couch. All those nights you wish you were Cleo, you were so stupid. You don’t want this. Everything was just fine before you messed it all up. You’re just as ungrateful as Nan said in her fits. 

The kettle whistles and you flinch. You can hear everything, the twist of the knob on the stove, the pour of boiling water, your pulse. His footsteps strut through the archway and he passes into the light of the hall. 

“Ruth Ann,” he calls to your grandmother as he smirks for you, “tea’s ready.” 

He heads down to her bedroom and you sniffle. You face the couch and sway. The tears pebble along the brims of your eyes. They roll out as your lashes flick. 

You undress shakily. First your shirt, then your pants. You sit to take of your sock, your legs to flimsy to balance. You ball them up as you sit in your high-rise briefs and thin white bra. The bedroom door clicks and his soles pad closer. 

You sense him as he stands in the crux of the hall and entryway, watching you from the arch. You can’t bring yourself to look. You hunch and grip your knees. 

He crosses the room. The silence roils around his prowling figure. Your eyes flit over as the lamplight limns his figure. He unbuttons the borrowed shirt as he circles like a hawk. You tense and plead with the floor to swallow you up. 

He tosses the shirt onto the chair. You wince as it lands with a soft whoosh. His belt clinks and you whimper. You wipe your cheeks with your knuckles. He startles you as he hooks his arm around to grab your chin. He pulls you to lean against the couch as he stands behind it. 

He looks down at you as his muscled torso flexes. He smirks and bends as his thumb stretches up your cheek. He tuts as he nuzzles your nose. 

“Why’re you crying, sweetheart?” He growls. 

You can’t answer as a sob lumps in your throat. He keeps hold of you as he rounds the couch. He comes in front of you and hovers his mouth over yours. He brings his other hand to your face and wipes your tears with his roughened palms. 

He frames your jaw and guides you to sit up. He presses his lip to yours. You squeak and reach to push on his chest, scalded by his nudity. He clings to you as his tongue glides along your lips and pokes through. You nearly gag on his tongue. 

His large hands cradle your head as he traps you in his vice. You slouch as he lowers himself to his knees, pulling you with him. You grasp his shoulders as you wriggle and try to detach. 

When he lets you go, you swing back against the couch and gasp. The feet scrape on the floor as it lurches. He chuckles and brings his finger up to his lips, hushing you. 

“Don’t wanna wake nan,” he traces the straps of you bra then covers the cups with his hands. He bounces you in his hands. “Mm, you gonna be quiet for me, baby?” 

Your lips trembles as your lashes stick with dried tears. You shiver and stare at him. He slides his hands around you and tugs on the band of your bra. He unhooks it and gently draws the straps down your arms. As he uncovers your chest, you try to hide. 

He clucks and yanks away the bra meanly. 

You drop your arms and bat away another swathe of tears. He hums and tickles up your sides. His fingers leave a tingle of warmth as he pulls away. He shifts on his knees and searches in his pocket. He brings out a chain that catches the lamp's glow. You stare at the single pearl hanging from it, just like the one you saw at the market. 

"I thought it'd be even prettier on," he reaches to you and clasps it behind your neck. He trails his hand along the length and sets the pearl to rest just above your chest. You inhale as he once more feels along the swell of your tits. 

He bends forward and buries his face against your chest. He turns his head and nips at the sensitive flesh. You squeak and he spreads his hand over your mouth. You bite down on your tongue. If your nan walks in on this, you're not sure she'd be okay. She might not be able to handle the shock and you're not sure what Nick would do to her. 

His thumbs circle your nipple and he places his lips around the other. He toys with you as you writhe helplessly. You grab onto his wrist and try to push him away. He twists and latches you instead. He puts your hand on his head and teethes your sensitive bud. 

You quiver as your strength dissolves. Despite your fear, it feels good. All of it. 

His fingers flutter down your stomach and along the elastic of your panties. You wince. He delves beneath the fabric as he keeps his lips sealed around you nipple. He purrs and curls his fingers up and down your pelvis. He pushes against your slit and dips between your lips. 

He rubs along your cunt and swirls around your clit. You nearly cry out at the shockwaves of his touch. It’s the first time anyone but yourself got that far. You squeeze your eyes shut and hang your head back. 

He flicks his finger over your clit. Your thighs quake and your hand combs through his hair. You moan and he hushes you, leaving a wet trail down your skin. 

He moves back on his knees and tugs on your panties. He guides them down and taps gently along your thigh. You lift yourself and he rolls them lower. He pulls away to strip them down your legs then quickly inserts himself between them once more. 

He bows and breathes over your pelvis. You squirm and push on the cushions. You whisper his name. 

“Please...” the last effort to stop him and yourself. 

He leans in and presses his nose to your pelvis. He slides his tongue down and glides between your lips. You cover your mouth to keep from squealing. 

He traces his fingers along the inside of your thigh and makes a trail up to the crease. As he laps at you, he runs his finger around your entrance. He hums and flows through you. He probes inside of you slowly, pushing his thick digit in to the knuckle. 

He turns his hand and bends his finger. He pushes until you feel pressure. You writhe and curl your toes against the floor. You make a fist and bite it. You don’t know if you can handle this. 

He draws his finger in and out, his tongue flicks up and down. He groans and you gulp down one of your own. You push your chin down as you fight your racing heart. Your breath shallows and your skin prickles. 

He scoops his hand under your ass and dips another finger into you. He shoves them in to his limit and retreats again. His mouth and hand work together, building a maddening tempo. You hiss as your stomach clenches and your muscles wind tight. 

You spasm and brace your head as you cum. It’s more intense than anything you’ve felt before. Alone in the dark, ashamed. This is different. 

You shove his head, overstimulated as he keeps going. He jams his fingers in as deep as he can as you tremble and twitches around him. He drags his tongue up and smears the wetness on his mouth up your pelvis. 

He wipes his fingers on your thigh and sits back on his heels. His eyes gleam at you as you peek out between slitted lids. You heave and stare at him. 

“Not done yet,” he takes your hand and stands. He pulls you up on your wobbly legs. You nearly fall against him. 

He pets your head then spins you away from him. He points. You follow the gesture to the balcony door. You waver and he nudges you. 

“You know what I want.” He growls. 

You look down at your naked body. You fold your hands and slouch, shying away from him. He tickles down your neck. 

“Go, baby.” 

You blink away more tears as your nose tingles. You bite down and obey. You go to the door and pause before it. You hesitate and look back as he drops his pants. You panic and twist the handle. 

You go out into the night air if only to escape him. The sight of him is etched into your mind. His body is forged in muscle and that part of him... it looked big. You don’t have much to compare it to. 

You look across the street. Cleo’s apartment is dark. She must be out living her life. The door behind you creaks. You feel him before his shadow darkens around you. 

He steps up behind you and runs his hand down your arms. He leads your hands to the rail and squeezes them around it. You shiver and whine. He kisses your shoulders. 

“Baby, you just need to hold on,” he grits. 

He brushes down your sides and the curve of your ass. His touch crawls back to your hips and he moves your feet back. He kicks them wider and pushes until you arch your back. 

He steps closer and reaches around you. He pets your pelvis and rubs along your cunt. He spreads your lips and plays with your sensitive clit until you moan. He pushes against your ass and lines himself up with your entrance. You suck in air and stare into the night.. 

It was easier when it was Cleo. That shame was different. That pain was tolerable. 

He inches into you. Your legs shake and you lean against the railing. You groan between your teeth. He urges you down with a hand on your hip and hooks his chin over your shoulder. He turns his head to nuzzle your jaw. 

He thrusts and your legs buckle. He tuts and does it again. “Stay on your feet, baby.” 

The tears fall again and glaze over the street. The lights turn to blurry orbs and the shadows are nothing but layers of black and grey. His pelvis claps against your ass as he ruts harder with each tilt. 

He reaches to the pearl around your neck, his other hand still nestled between your legs as he stirs your nerves to fury. He breathes against your neck and sighs. 

“You think someone’s watching us, baby?” He taunts. You whimper and he chuckles smokily. “I hope they are... you’re the star now, huh?” 

END 

[nowonz]

you, me, and the sheep | hatake kakashi.

wc: 1.1k | pure fluff | warnings: none! my first fic on this account! i was overwhelmed with love for kakashi today so i wanted to get this out to help me get back into writing <3

Today’s mission did not go as planned. That much is clear, especially as you approach the front door of your boyfriend’s home worn out and bruised. As one of the more experienced shinobi in the mission’s assigned squad, you were appointed to guide your team to the proper location of the target. However, the mission report neglected to inform you that the target had bought protection from a small, nearby village. 

Luckily, there were no fatalities, but your fellow shinobi, Asuma, received a hefty injury to his leg. You’d just come back from the medical ward and were looking forward to seeing your lover. 

You twist the doorknob and quickly take notice of the dim lights and calming atmosphere. Surely he’s not already asleep, you think. But just in case, you quietly slink through the doorway and shrug off your olive green vest. 

“Everything alright?” 

His voice startles you at first, but you calm yourself once you see Kakashi, clad in a simple black top and grey sweatpants, drying his damp hair with a white towel. Despite how long you’ve been together, and even longer friends, you think you’ll never quite get over how beautiful he is without his mask. 

You fold your vest over a kitchen chair and approach his figure. Immediately, he welcomes you into his embrace, warm from his previous shower. 

“Long day then?” He asks, giving you a soft peck atop your hair.

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his neck. “The longest.”

“I can tell,” he begins, “by the way you’re clinging onto me.”

You push yourself away, not enough to leave his arms but enough to see his face. “What? You can’t say you don’t enjoy it at least a little bit.”

Kakashi hums, tapping a finger to his chin as if he were having to consider it. “Hm, perhaps I do.” He wraps his arms around you a smidge together. “Are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to guess?”

The playful grin on your face is swiftly replaced by one of embarrassment and disappointment. “It was my fault. Lady Tsunade appointed me as the captain of the squad. Asuma got hurt because of me. I should have been more prepared.” You turn away from him, hoping and praying that he doesn’t see the tears filling your waterline. 

Kakashi’s expression softens and he gently guides your chin to him, coaxing you to return his gaze. “It was an honest mistake. It happens.” He cards a hand through your hair, trying to give you comfort the best way he knows how. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. You didn’t let this happen on purpose. We know that, and I’m sure Asuma knows too.”

You bury yourself further into his arms and clutch the fabric of his tee. “Let’s run away together. Just you and me.”

He chuckles, allowing his fingers to dance along the length of your arm. “Run away, huh? And where would we go?” His head tips back and his eyes close, allowing himself to be completely immersed in this new fictional world. One so safe and warm, a domestic life the two of you could never truly have.

“The countryside maybe?” You reply, playing with the silver hair at the base of his neck. “You like sheep, hm?”

Kakashi’s heart trembles. “Yeah, I do like sheep.” His eyes crinkle with the wide grin resting on his lips. “The countryside does sound nice. Just you and me, and some sheep.” The smell of the eucalyptus body wash he gradually stole from you washes over you. 

“Just imagine it… you at the top of a hill, surrounded by sheep. The warm sun on your skin gives you a nice, summer glow.” His voice waivers from one tied to this reality to a more soothing one, a Kakashi that is far away from the gruesome reality he knows. “The sky would be a light blue, the clouds big, fluffy, and white. You’d look stunning.” His hands now trace delicate patterns down the small of your back. 

“Me? Get a load of yourself, handsome,” You say, resting your palms against his cheeks. They warm under your words. “The most handsome shinobi in all the land.” You finish the sentiment with a soft kiss on the top of his nose. 

He hums, covering your hand with his own larger one. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He grips your hand, placing peck after peck down the inside of your wrist. It’s your turn to blush. His other hand grips the plush of your hip, a bit rougher than before. 

“Let’s get married.”

His actions falter, but just for a moment. He stands a bit straighter, eyebrows quirking at your words like he’s not sure what to exactly make of it. “Are you serious?” It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it before, but he’s surprised that you would bring up such a topic so suddenly. It’s different than your usual banter. He knows you're being serious, but he needs to hear you say it. That you want to get married to him. That you want him.

“Of course.” You gently remove his hands from their places on your body and guide him to your shared bedroom. “Do you think Lady Tsunade would be the officiant?”

He snickers at the thought. “I have no doubt she’d take it seriously,” he muses. “But I do think she’d take the opportunity to embarrass the hell out of us, as payback for all the headaches we’ve caused her.”

Grinning, you push him down onto the fleece duvet below. He releases a soft grunt and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to straddle his waist and lower torso. “And then there’d be the wedding night. Just you and me,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry as he looks up to you. His hands wander up and down your hips, pinching every so often. 

“And the sheep?” you ask as you press one, two, three kisses across his face.

Kakashi nods his head, breathing hitching at the sudden onslaught of affection from you. “Of course. I’m sure they’d love to be a part of our special night.” He teases. 

You lay your head against his chest, feeling every beat and thrum of his heart. His hand drifts up the cradle the back of your head, guiding you to a more comfortable position. He lets out a content sigh and threads his fingers through your hair once more. Soft and tender, just the way you like. “You know, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you.”

He expects a response but is met with your breathing reaching a soft, comfortable pattern. Kakashi smiles, resting his lips against your forehead. The simple idea of him being able to live the rest of his life with you is enough to let any worry wash away, and he drifts to sleep with you by his side.

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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“Honestly, I thought you would’ve given up by now,” Sergei sighed.

“What? Of course not,” you frowned. “I’ll have you know I’m very serious about this. Look, I’ve even been practicing!”

You proceeded to swing your wooden sword with visible enthusiasm, making cutting motions left, right, and center.

Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed.

Today marked the second day of your lessons with the kind-hearted knight who ended up meeting a gruesome fate. Naturally, you had no intention of getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you expected to become some sort of prodigy overnight. But every effort counted, and the more you practiced, the better equipped you were to defend yourself if something went awry. After stupidly letting your guard down and helping out Flora, you needed to keep up with your training, now more than ever.

“So?” you huffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “What do you think?”

Sergei’s brows were creased. He looked like he was searching for the right words to say.

“I think that you have absolutely no talent with a sword.”

Okay, well he clearly hadn’t found the right words, because ouch.

“You’re so mean,” you whined. “This is only our second lesson! Don’t you think it’s too early to jump to conclusions? Of course I’m not going to be great right off the bat. I’m only a beginner. Were you immensely talented from the get-go?”

“Yes,” Sergei said calmly. “My talent is the whole reason I decided to become a knight.”

“Ugh. Okay, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that someone can suck at something at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they can’t improve one day.”

“I agree with that,” Sergei acknowledged. “I’m not saying that you can’t learn, but from what I’ve seen, it’s already quite clear that this isn’t the sort of activity that will come naturally to you. Everyone has different types of skills. Why not take up a hobby that you might be better suited towards? It could save you a lot of frustration, and sword-fighting really isn’t the sort of thing a lady like you will ever have any use for...”

But I can’t learn something else. It’s not like I’m doing this for fun. I need to make sure I’ll have some way of protecting myself.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell him that for you, learning to use a sword was absolutely essential. So, you did what you did best. You lied.

“As I’ve told you before, I am a very prudent woman,” you said.

Sergei snorted. Okay, rude.

“Lately, I keep having nightmares of criminals attacking me in the middle of the night, and I can’t do anything but quiver helplessly. I refuse to be helpless,” you frowned. “I never want to end up in the sort of situation where I just cower in fear and hope for the best. I want to take charge of my life and fight until the very end.”

“This seems to be an ongoing concern of yours,” he remarked, looking a touch concerned. “Being cautious is all well and good, but there is such a thing as worrying too much. If you’re really so afraid, why don’t you just make sure to take a personal guard when you go out in public?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“So, then...”

“But if they fail to protect me, then I’m right back to square one.”

Sergei shook his head in disbelief. “Alright, alright. If training with a sword will really help to put your worries to rest, then I suppose it’s the least I can do for you. But you really should know that the odds of you getting hurt, especially if you aren’t on your own, are remarkably slim. Infinitesimal, even.”

Ha. You’d be surprised.

“Yes, I know,” you said, mustering a smile. “But this really does make me feel better about the whole thing. I feel powerful, even though I realize I’m far from it yet. And now I have the added challenge of becoming so good that you’ll be forced to eat your words. Hehe.”

“At the very least, your enthusiasm is certainly admirable,” Sergei chuckled.

Right. That was all you had, really. Enthusiasm. And fear. Fear for your life. With such emotions driving you forward, you were certain that you could somehow compensate for your lack of athletic abilities.

As proof of your readiness to train your butt off, you swung your sword several times in quick succession, building up a noticeable burn in your arms. Sergei wasn’t saying anything, just watching you in silence. It didn’t matter if you sucked. Hell, you knew you sucked, but that still wasn’t going to change the fact that you were going to do this, no matter what.

“Lady [Name], please stop,” he eventually said.

You looked back at him in confusion. “Yes? Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re doing many things wrong, but that’s not what I was getting at. How would you like to try using a real sword today, just to get a feel for it?”

You could hardly contain the grin that burst across your lips. “Really?!”

“It would be good to try,” he nodded. “If the point is to protect yourself, a wooden sword won’t do much to achieve that. It was just to get you a bit familiar with the length and girth of the weapon you’ll be holding. Keep in mind that the real thing will be quite a good deal heavier, though. It will be difficult to adjust to at first.”

“That’s totally fine!” you babbled, eager to finally try out the real thing. You’d never held a sword before. It was difficult to even find swords back in your previous world. All of this was to learn how to protect yourself, but it was still so exciting!

Sergei bit back a smile. “It’s not that amazing. But I have to admit that it’s quite amusing to watch you react so expressively.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused. C’mon, gimme!”

“You certainly don’t speak like a noblewoman, though... anyways, here you are. Be careful. Don’t move too suddenly with it.”

He gently placed the hilt of the sword in your hands, with the blade pointed downwards. You couldn’t feel the full weight of it yet, not while Sergei was still gripping it as well.

But then he let go. And the sword fell to the ground.

“Ouchie!” you squealed, frantically shaking your wrist. “My hand nearly broke!”

Sergei clamped a palm over his mouth. “Pfft... n-no, you’re just exaggerating. I did warn you, my lady. Perhaps you were just surprised. Care to try again?”

You grimaced, cheeks glowing bright red. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a bit, but that thing was heavy as all hell! In the interest of staying as safe as possible, you knew wielding a sword was practically crucial, but you were slowly realizing that it was an even bigger obstacle than you’d once presumed.

“I can do it,” you huffed, crouching down to pick the sword back up. “It’s okay. I have muscles. Weak, underused ones... but they’re still muscles!”

Sergei was trying not to laugh at you—and failing horribly, at that.

But by some miracle, you managed to pick the sword up. Granted, you had to hold onto it with both hands, and the strain it was placing on your wrists was enough to make your arms shake, but you were actually holding a sword. God, you felt like such a badass!

“I-I’m amazing,” you said, grimacing in between breaths. “Showstopping, incredible, phenomenal. S-Super epic... ugh, I just can’t anymore!”

You dropped the sword once again, sighing in relief. Okay, so it was a work in progress. Strengthening your wrists would likely be crucial. Maybe you could practice by repeatedly opening jars.

“Good effort,” Sergei mused, flashing you a thumbs-up. “It was—pfft! —very entertaining."

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed it,” you eye-rolled.

“Weren’t you going on earlier about how you’d make me eat my words? Surely the weight of the sword isn’t enough to make you quit?”

“I have no intention of quitting,” you reassured. “That being said... is it all possible to make my own sword? One that’s a bit lighter? I’m not as tall or strong as you. I can have one personally customized to better suit me, right?”

Sergei nodded. “Yes, you can have one made by a blacksmith. If you provide him with the rough dimensions of the sword, and what sort of materials you’d like to have used, I’m sure he can craft one that’s more comfortable for you to use. It still won’t be too light, not if you want it to be sturdy enough to deal damage, but you can figure out the details and strike a good balance between what you’d like to achieve.”

“Is there a particular blacksmith you recommend?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. Remind me to write down his name and some other details for you later.”

“Alright. In that case...” You picked up the wooden sword instead of the real one, smiling sheepishly. “Um. Until I have my personal sword made, I’d like to stick with this one, if that’s okay...”

Sergei was clearly holding back the urge to laugh again. “Whatever you say, Lady [Name].”

“Back to training I go,” you hummed. “Watch this! Consecutive wooden sword slashes, but at a dizzying speed. Hyah!”

“Again with the battle cries...”

Even if you were still a noob in the purest sense of the word, over time, your body was bound to adapt. You were intent on getting by through muscle memory alone. Besides, as far as you knew, only two of the yanderes were proficient sword-fighters themselves—namely, Triston and Friedrich. So long as you were armed, and they weren’t, you would probably stand a chance.

Point being, it was best not to skimp on your training. Even if you probably looked like a fool flailing around all over the place.

Still, it was certainly tiring swinging a heavy wooden sword continuously. With every motion, you could feel your arms progressively turning to jelly. Coupled with the fact that it was so hot out, you were really starting to break a sweat.

“Time out,” you groaned, throwing your sword down. You tried to fan yourself off with your hand, but it wasn’t doing much good. This goddamn tunic was making you burn up. It needed to go.

So, you proceeded to get rid of it, stripping your outermost layer and exposing the thin camisole you had underneath. The relief was almost immediate. Granted, it was still hot as hell, but your skin could finally breathe now.

“L-Lady [Name]!” came the horrified splutter. You turned to find Sergei gaping at you in disbelief, several shades redder than he’d been a few seconds ago.

“Yes?” you frowned.

“You can’t just get undressed like that all of a sudden! Please remember that you are in public!”

He looked away in a hurry, and you had to admit, it was kind of cute. In the game, Sergei made every effort to act the part of a knight. He was sometimes guilty of being too serious, although he eventually came to let his guard down around Flora, after falling for her gentleness. From what you recalled, he’d never been much of a joker, yet in the few interactions he’d had with you, you’d already gotten to see him laugh it up plenty of times at your expense. And now he was even blushing. It was refreshing to see such different sides to a character you liked.

But honestly, you didn’t really get what the big deal was. The camisole was pretty thin, sure, but it wasn’t all that revealing. A tiny bit of cleavage and bare shoulders, but that was about it. Back in your world, people showed plenty of skin, so you definitely weren’t used to such an innocent reaction. Your case especially was rather unique. Countless doctors and nurses had seen you butt naked before, so something like this hardly fazed you.

Watching Sergei get increasingly flustered was rather amusing, though.

“You can drop the title, you know,” you chuckled, still fanning yourself off. “Just [Name] is fine.”

“No, I really mustn’t,” he insisted. His face was buried in his palms, and it almost seemed like he was itching to move them out of the way and steal another peek, but his willpower remained undaunted. “This is already quite improper... and you allow me to speak to you so casually in the first place. Now, please, will you get dressed?”

“Aw. But it’s way too hot out. I’d rather keep practicing like this.”

“Lady [Name], what you have on leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Please, for my sake, I’ll ask that you cover up again.”

“Prude,” you muttered under your breath. Alright, alright. You could sort of understand that this was set in a different time period, with different standards and all that, but you were really struggling to feel modest given your previous lived experiences. Guess that was yet another thing you’d have to get used to here.

With a great deal of reluctance, you put your tunic back on, cursing the fact that they didn’t even have air conditioning in this world.

“You can look now,” you announced. “Rest assured that my breasts are back in their rightful place.”

Sergei gritted his teeth, still red as a tomato. “In the name of all that is holy, I am literally begging you to stop.”

“Hehe.”

“Don't hehe me!”

It was safe to say that Sergei was too embarrassed to look you in the eye for the rest of your training session.

Cedric Lightsteel, huh?

You stared down at the piece of paper in your hand. It was the name of the blacksmith Sergei had personally recommended to you. Sergei spoke very highly of him, so you didn’t doubt that he’d be able to craft you the perfect sword. Once you’d obtained a weapon tailored to suit your needs, you were confident that your skills would improve astronomically.

Anyways, things were looking good. As expected, it felt good to plan everything out in the event that you got caught up in something dangerous. Based on the natural progression of the plot, you still had plenty of time until the yanderes began exhibiting their dangerous tendencies—not that you planned on ever seeing any of them again.

There had been a little hiccup with Flora, sure, but you’d ignored her letter. By now, you were confident that she would’ve gotten the message. Even if you did feel really shitty about it.

“Man, I’m pooped,” you yawned, stretching your arms out. Living in a healthy body really was incredible. You’d worked your butt off today, and you were definitely tired, but it still didn’t even come close to the fatigue you experienced every single day back in your old life. Even with minimal activity, you’d been in a perpetual state of exhaustion back then. You slept just about always, lied around doing very little when you were awake, and your body struggled to do even that much.

It almost made you want to cry. The fact that you actually got to live like this now. That was why you needed to hold onto it with all your strength.

You decided to unwind by taking a nice, hot bath. Modern day luxuries were certainly missing in this world, but that just meant that you had more time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. You could even feel some of your vigor returning to you as you soaked in the delightful bubbly water. You’d trained for hours, but with this body, it felt like you’d be good to do the whole thing all over again after just a little bit of rest.

Sighing happily, you eventually decided that you were squeaky clean and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body.

Then, you walked back into your bedroom.

Only to find a strange man sitting on the bed.

“Ah,” he smiled upon locking eyes with you. “Did you have a nice bath? I was waiting for you to finish. Come, let’s have a chat."

Unsurprisingly, you screamed.

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[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 13 - Gods Ain't Shit

You learn some things.

On AO3.

“Oh my gods!” Karlach all but squeals. “The Jaheira! Like, the actual Jaheira!”

Good news: y’all found the harper hideout.

Bad news: they almost shot you’uns.

Thank fuck for Wyll and his buckets of charm. He’d been out front as an older lady came out to meet y’all. So he’d been the first up when the old lady pulled a Poison Ivy and lifted vines outta the ground to grab y’all. He was able to stall her long enough for one of the druid grove tiefling kids to run out and recognize y’all.

“Who’s Jaheira?” you say as Astarion fusses and pinches bits of vine out of his armor.

“You never heard of Jaheira?” Karlach says. Girl ain’t modulating her voice down at all. Couple of people look over. Then she blinks. “Right. You’re…she’s a hero. A real, proper one. Fought down a Bhaalspawn back in the day…oh. You don’t know about those either. Bhaal is the god of murder, you get me? And he apparently likes sprouting out kids—don’t ask, I don’t want to think about it. But they’re wicked dangerous. Whole ‘god of murder’ as your dad, yeah?”

You blink. “Y’all got a god of murder?”

Hope the what the fuck ain’t showing.

“You don’t?” Karlach says.

So there’s a whole readjustment of everything you ever known. A sharp ache chisels in behind your right eye.

“We don’t got gods,” you say. “Not real ones, anyway.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shadowheart says.

Gale already made a beeline over to a woman standing in front of what looks like a ramshackle merchant stall at a ren faire. Wyll is already heading towards the inn, pausing to talk to a group of harpers gathered around a bone-dry fountain.

Lae’zel…she’s just standing there looking bored.

Shit.

You put on your best polite-interest (and not at all judging) face. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said you have no gods several times,” Shadowheart says. Behind her, Karlach makes a yikes face and tiptoes her way outta the conversation. Goddamnit. At least Astarion lingers. “Yet the concept isn’t foreign to you. How is that?”

She’s a cleric. Which means she’s some sort of, what you done put together, a battle nun for her god. Who sounds like a dick. And this one heals y’all.

You really don’t wanna get into it. Astarion knows about your background, and you told Wyll enough he might be suspecting some stuff.

“Some people,” you start. Pause to try to find safe footing. “Some people where I come from do.”

“And you think them, what. False? Liars?”

Fuckshit. She’s way too damn perceptive.

“Ain’t nobody ever seen one. Different civilizations had different pantheons, hundreds of them, and ain’t no physical evidence of any of it being real.”

Shadowheart arches an eyebrow. “So you think your entire people wrong?”

The anger rises hot and fierce like a steam explosion. Pressure spikes up the sides of your neck. You hold your breath a second to keep from saying nothing. Gotta keep calm. Breathe out. Snapping at her ain’t gonna solve shit. Biting somebody’s head off don’t change their mind and usually makes them dig in deeper, like a starving tick.

You ain’t her mama. And though her goddess sounds like she sucks, you ain’t gonna change her mind. She’s a grown ass woman who can make grown ass choices with her grown ass life.

You suck in another deep breath. “I cannot speak for nobody but myself. I don’t know much about y’all’s world; we don’t got magic in mine. But y’all very clearly do. So hell, I might have everything ass backwards. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

Shadowheart presses her lips thin. Nods once. Don’t seem satisfied, but she don’t seem all huffy, neither. Thus go all shitty compromises.

(Part of you chafes at that, as it always does. You ain’t never been sure if that’s a reflex against your upbringing, or that upbringing manifesting itself into a new variety of self-righteousness. You wonder if you’ll ever know.)

“Do you think they have bathing facilities?” Astarion says. “I, for one, am tired of this filth.”

You should kiss him. But Shadowheart rolls her eyes and disengages, and you don’t want her staring you down any more than she already is.

Gale still talks to the trader or merchant or whoever. Pulls something outta his bag while Karlach pokes around a couple of shields propped against the booth. Lae’zel follows after Shadowheart as the two start across the courtyard. You assume she’s done some Jason Bourne surveying in her head. And Wyll…

Wyll stands at the door of the inn, arm lifted, waving y’all over.

“Oh, what now,” Astarion says.

“Maybe we got rooms?” you say.

“Ugh, I hope so. But with so many vagabonds—”

Who even says that?

“—traipsing about, I doubt they have any room to spare. Still. An honest bed would do wonders.”

He ain’t wrong.

The other people—harpers, you assume—all carry weapons and that light armor. Not metal; maybe leather. Must be more used to ambush attacks than full on assaults. Those kinda tactics tend to work pretty good against armored or heavy ass baggage trains. Ask the French what they thought about the English-allied Cherokee during that war. Before the English fucked over the Cherokees, as they did everybody, eventually.

These guys look fucking tired. Scared. It’s in the way their gazes don’t settle. One man shakes his hand, but when he grips the handle of his spear, fine tremors shiver up and down his fingers.

There’s some kinda low building to the right. A stable, you think. You catch the sound of metal clanging from that way. But then y’all are at the inn doors and ducking into what should be light and warmth. A plush rug and maybe a fish tank. Marble counter tops and a receptionist with a Karen haircut and a shiny name tag.

Instead, wood creaks underfoot and you look deeper into the building to what’s clearly a bar. Several people slump over it. One’s red, another blue. More tieflings.

“Hey, you! You look an enterprising sort!”

A small voice from down low. Tucked up into the corner is a red tiefling kid. He’s scrawny as hell, clothes patched and frayed, and…weirdly familiar.

“Oh no, not this little deviant,” says the biggest deviant you know. To the kid, Astarion says, “You’re lucky we’re not in any civilized place. They tend to punish thieves.”

Right. Kid from the grove. The one hawking stuff while his friend picked your pocket.

You still give Astarion a look. “How’d you get all them pillows outside your tent?”

“Through charm and wit.”

“Aw, it’s you,” the kid whines. “Don’t suppose you got more coin than pocket lint this time?”

“Nope,” you say.

The kid runs a clawed hand through his hair. Mutters something in a raspy language.

“Excuse me?” Astarion says.

The kid blinks, but don’t look any kind of mollified. Just tired. “Move along. If you can’t pay, you’re taking up room for someone who can. Where’s the funny man with the purple robe?”

Gale, who probably just dumped all y’all’s group money on a pile of sausages.

“You can speak his language?” you say to Astarion, still glaring like a kicked cat.

“That wasn’t his language, unless our tiny friend here is very good at shape changing. Though I am curious as to how he might have learned the language of the Abyss.”

“Oh.” The kid smirks. “You get called that enough to recognize it, then?”

Okay, fuck no.

You step between the two. That’s a nice thing about your size. If you wanna make yourself a problem, you are hard as fuck to ignore.

“Y’all made it this far, huh?” you say. And win, when the kid looks away from Astarion to you.

But his face goes eerily blank for a second before he smiles. Or tries to.

And you seen that before. The younger kids on the farmstead looked like that sometimes after a worship session. After a holy cleansing. Because being loud brought the Aunts, and crying brought the other kids, and it was hard sometimes to tell which was worse.

“Some of us,” the kids says. Give a one-shouldered shrug. Acting all cool and unbothered.

Being very, very bothered.

“What happened?” you say. You almost kneel down to his (her?) level, but you’ve cracked their armor now, and calling attention to it like that, reminding them how small they are is just gonna crack that deeper.

“What always happens,” the kid says. “We got attacked. Lost some people. The lucky ones made it here.”

The inn is awfully empty. Some of them tieflings looked ready to fight. Might just be outside with the harpers. Or up in rooms somewhere. But this place—trapped beneath a glowing, silver dome—ain’t that big.

“So are you gonna buy something or not?” the kid says. “Cause my crew is still looking to set up a business once we reach the city, and we need to start a principal.”

It takes a second for that one to translate. Principal, as in…chief? Top? School?

Astarion leans in. “He means an investment fund.”

Right. Sure thing, dirt potion.

“What’cha selling?” you say.

And that pipsqueak gives you the most incredulous once-over you ever did see. “You said you didn’t have any money.”

“I don’t.” You turn. Find Astarion glaring over your shoulder. Give him your most wide-eyed smile. “But he does.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says.

“You heard him. It’s an investment. Wouldn’t hurt to get on the ground floor of a promising new venture, huh?”

The worm in your head shudders. Shivers. Reaches out so you can press into him the ice-cold iron of “not abandoning a traumatized child.”

His worm shies away. His frown twists into a narrow-eyed scowl. And then he lifts up a coin—copper. You look at it. Look at him. Hold that gaze.

He sighs. “Suit yourself. But I expect repayment in full, darling.”

And pulls a gold coin out of thin air to toss at you.

You manage to catch it. Just. Sigh yourself as he pivots and heads over towards Wyll, standing further in.

You thought you was getting into him a little. He’s eased up around you, just a bit. Hasn’t threatened to eat either Scratch or Sweetums in a while. But asking him to show the tiniest sliver of empathy towards anyone but you—and even that’s pushing it—and it’s like trying to get a cat to swallow a pill. A cat who don’t like you all that much.

You press your lips tight as you watch him go. Finally turn back to the kid. Hold up the coin. “Let’s see your wares, huh?”

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 5 - 11

note: this is chapter 11 of 13 (plus an epilogue). we are in the final stretch! this chapter is 19.5K.

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71:90 – TREVOR

“And another grüner veltliner for the lady,” Sarah spouts with a fond chuckle, topping off Honey’s glass. 

Honey’s smile is dopey and her cheeks are growing pink from the wine. “Thank you, Sarah,” she says, sounding a whole lot like she does when she exaggeratedly flirts with Trevor. 

Trevor squints at Honey.

Sarah notices first and starts to laugh. “God, Trevor, you might need to be cut off,” she laughs. Trevor turns his eyes on her. She laughs harder. “Don’t look at your bartender like that, especially not if you want to keep daydrinking on a Monday afternoon.”

“He’s just mad ‘cause I’m being sweet to you,” Honey says, propping her chin on her palm and blinking at Sarah like a cat about to nap. “He doesn’t know how to share. Very jealous.”

“She’s a married woman,” Trevor grumbles, frowning at Honey.

Honey waves her hand at Trevor, just a flick of the wrist. “She has the wine, Trev. Be sweet.”

“Don’t wanna,” he pouts. 

Sarah snorts out a laugh and ruffles Trevor’s hair. “Can I get you anything else, bud? You’re not going to let your girlfriend drink alone, are you?”

“I’ll take–” Honey waves her glass in front of Trevor’s nose enticingly, but the smell of the wine stings his nose. “Not that. I don’t like that,” Trevor says, pushing her glass away. He tried it earlier. It tastes like pepper and celery and seeds. He doesn’t know how it’s her favorite. “Uh, something red. Fruity.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Honey laughs. 

Trevor fixes her with an unimpressed look. She remembered this morning that he and Jack were once two participants in a very poorly-executed threesome (not for lack of trying on Trevor’s part) and she’s been milking it ever since. Her chirps were funny the first time, just because Honey has never really chirped Trevor. They’ve always been more serious digs, not chirps, that come from her mouth. But now she’s chirping and it was funny and cute at first… but now it’s getting under Trevor’s skin.

Sarah walks away after nodding in assent to Trevor, signaling that she’ll be back with his order soon. 

Trevor’s look turns into a pout. “You’re so mean to me,” he complains, faking a pout. “I never should’ve told you about that threesome. We were 17, it was such a long time ago.”

“Your 17 was so much different than my 17,” Honey says with a laugh. She says it so casually, even taking a sip from her glass of wine. Trevor’s stomach turns thinking about that– how he was so carefree and happy when Honey was going through the worst time of her life. She clears her throat after swallowing her drink and says, “Hey, if you had to choose another one of the guys to have a threesome with me, who would it be?”

Trevor immediately balks. “None of them,” he replies, defensive. “Absolutely not.”

Honey laughs again. “Good answer,” she says. “You passed the test.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t let you have a threesome with Bea, either.”

“Have you?” Trevor asks. There’s something about the way she says it that makes him suspicious.

“No,” Honey says with a wave of her hand. “Bea didn’t actually start hooking up with people until we were eighteen, and I stopped having sex after the whole Thomas thing. If I couldn’t trust my partner, then why would I trust a random person, you know? We kissed once, though.”

“You and Bea? Like, recently?” Trevor raises his eyebrows in surprise.

Honey scrunches her nose at Trevor. “No, not recently,” she says. “Although she wishes she could pull the make-out trick at bars for free stuff. No, it was in middle school. It was a boy-girl party thing.” Honey grins. “I bet you loved the idea of two girls kissing when you were in middle school, Trev.”

Middle school, high school, rookie year… even now it’s not unappealing. He doesn’t seem to do a good job of keeping his face still and impassive. 

“I knew it,” Honey accuses, pointing at him with her index finger. “You’re such a boy.”

It’s then that Sarah returns with a new glass for Trevor, taking the empty one from their table. “This is your last one, both of you.”

“What? Why?” Honey whines. Before Sarah can reply, she turns to Trevor. “This is your fault, you weren’t nice to Sarah.”

“It’s not Trevor’s fault, Honey,” Sarah says with a smile. “You guys asked me to cut you off at 4:30 so you could go get fruit.”

Honey groans. “So not fair. Push it back to 5.”

“Babe, you’re going to be hungover for work tomorrow if you keep drinking. I’m trying to give you time to come down from this,” Sarah reasons.

“Thanks, Sarah, we understand,” Trevor jumps in, digging his hand into his pocket to find his wallet. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Yeah, you’d better be,” she teases, looking around the patio. There are only two other tables taken and neither occupants have been there for very long. “I was super worried about running out of table space.”

Honey is sulking. She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at Sarah. “You shouldn’t turn away your patrons.”

Sarah stifles a laugh. “I think I’ll live.” She leaves the table, heading inside, and Trevor laughs when Honey sticks her tongue out at Sarah’s retreating back.

“Look who’s being mean now,” Trevor says. 

“She took the wine away,” Honey returns.

“You asked her to.”

“I didn’t think she’d do it!”

“Well, baby, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Honey groans. 

“But,” Trevor says enticingly. “Now we get to go to the fruit stand!”

Honey takes her glass and drinks, swallowing a mouthful before she eyes Trevor out of the side of her vision. “Who’s going to drive?”

“Drive?” Trevor asks. “To the fruit stand? We don’t need to drive. We can walk.”

“Okay, then after that,” Honey says. “Who’s going to drive us home? I’m in no state. You’re in no state, plus I wouldn’t let you drunk-drive me on the mountain roads anyway. You don’t know them well enough to even try.”

“We’ll call an Uber,” Trevor says, defaulting back to his go-to when he gets a little too tipsy on a night out.

Honey bursts into laughter. “In Litchton? Babydoll. There’s not even a taxi service in town.”

Now it’s Trevor’s turn to groan. “Well, why don’t we call Earl?”

“No, we can’t call Earl, he told me and Bea that if we ever called him again for a ride while we were drunk, he’ll make us pay for his mechanic bill. He’s had a check engine light on for like, three years, so we’re trying to wait him out.” Honey swirls the wine in her glass, then watches the legs drip down to join the settling liquid. 

“I can pay for his mechanic bill,” Trevor insists. “Hello, professional athlete over here? My contract is almost six million per year?”

Honey’s jaw drops. “Holy shit, Trev,” she says. “You’re… rich. I mean, I thought you were, but I didn’t think you were rich-rich. Six million, that’s… that’s a lot.”

“That’s just my contract,” Trevor explains, backpedaling. “I don’t actually make that much. I have to pay agent fees and trainer fees and stuff like that. I only take home, I don’t know, between two and three million.”

“Oh, only,” Honey parrots back sarcastically. “That’s more than I make…” she trails off, thinking hard. “That’s more than I’ve made ever. And you make that in a year? What’s your biweekly direct deposit like?”

Trevor blushes. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” This is one of those things that makes him vastly different from the rest of the world. That’s not to say that he doesn’t love his job and all the things it affords him; Trevor actually can’t imagine living a “normal” life with a “normal” salary. Still… being called rich… it just makes him feel weird.

Honey continues to remind Trevor why she’s the world’s greatest person, because she’s quick to drop the subject. “What about our other resident threesome enjoyer?” she asks. “Could he drive us?”

Trevor furrows his brow. “Who?”

Honey chuckles at Trevor, giggling like they’re sharing a joke. She picks up her glass and sips.

Trevor laughs too, awkwardly, and picks up his own glass. He looks out toward the Appalachian mountains in the distance. There are pink flowers sprouting in the window-boxes along the edge of the patio, creeping up into eyeline. It’s so pretty here. He avoids Honey’s eyes.

“Cole, baby,” Honey says after a brief silence. “We could call Cole. He could drive us.”

“When did he– oh, yeah,” Trevor starts, then remembers. When Quinn blueballed Bea, both Jack and Cole went upstairs with her. He feels kind of stupid for forgetting. He definitely should have remembered this before Honey explained her joke– then, he wouldn’t have laughed so awkwardly and made it obvious that he had no idea what she’s talking about. Trevor hums in surprise, then stops. “Wait. But we’re on a date,” he says.

Honey nods and shrugs. “For all he knows, we’re just hanging out,” she says.

“But he’ll get sad that we didn’t invite him,” Trevor tells Honey. “And, like, they know we’re friends, but they don’t know we’re close enough friends to hang out just us.”

“Tell him we ran into each other in town,” Honey suggests. “It’s Cole. I don’t think he’ll care that much.”

Trevor stares at Honey. “He’s the most dramatic person I know.”

“More than Jack?”

“Yes, baby, more than Jack,” Trevor says seriously. 

Honey scoffs. “Ugh. Can we just call him? I’m sure it won’t be that big a deal.” She tilts her head back and finishes her glass of wine. “Tell him I’ll buy him a bottle of liquor at the liquor store tomorrow after work if he picks us up.”

She’s not going to budge on this, which Trevor realizes. “Alright, Hon,” he concedes. “Once I finish my drink, we’ll go buy some fruit, and then I’ll call Cole.” He lifts his glass, which is still about half full, to his lips and drinks.

Honey stands. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” She touches Trevor’s cheek, her fingers a little more clumsy than normal. She jokes, “Chug, Trev, chug!” and heads inside.

Trevor is left alone, sipping on the remaining wine. Honey’s right, it would be easy to call Cole and ask him for a ride. It’s probably their best option. He has the car since Honey picked Trevor up from the house this morning and, to be fair, Cole was still asleep. That kind of throws their “we met in town” story out the window… which Trevor doesn’t love. As willing as Cole is to overlook trivial details, and as easily he transitions from one moment to the next, this might be too far. If Honey doesn’t want the boys to know because she’s not ready, then it might not be a good idea for Cole to pick them up.

But she’s so insistent. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk and, hell, Trevor is drunk too, but this just doesn’t seem… right.

Trevor takes a big deep breath before finishing his wine. Good timing, too. Honey has exited the bathroom and is now waving goodbye to Sarah, even blowing a kiss before she accidentally stumbles into one of the plush chairs in the interior of Wild Bloom. She’s laughing when she exits the building, eyes lighting up when she sees that Trevor succeeded in finishing his glass, just like she’d asked.

“Let’s go get some fruit!” Honey bounces onto her tiptoes as Trevor rises. She produces his card and hands it back to Trevor. “I’m thinking maybe not grapes? We’ve probably had enough.”

Trevor breathes out a little laugh. She’s so funny today– except for the overdone threesome stuff. Honey always has jokes, but she’s being very vocal today. Trevor might have to blame the alcohol.

Honey gasps suddenly, as Trevor stands and gets ready to leave the bar. 

“What?” Trevor asks. 

Honey is fumbling for her phone, dialing a number and holding the device to her ear. She reaches for Trevor’s hand and holds it, walking with him across the patio. She chews her bottom lip while she waits for the person to answer. When they do, she brightens again. “Hi, Bea!” She exclaims.

Trevor almost bursts out laughing. She’s acting like she would if Bea called her by surprise. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Honey asks. “You remember how you owe me because I’m always opening the store for you when you’re sleeping over with Quinn?”

Trevor smiles at the ground, kicking a piece of gravel in the alley where they walk.

“I need you to pick me up and open the store with me tomorrow,” Honey says. “Why? Because I’m drunk… and I’m not driving back to my house tonight. Is that good enough?” She pauses, waiting for Bea’s response to end. “Don’t call me irresponsible for getting drunk on a weekday, you’re just crabby because you’ve been in the car for almost six hours.” Another pause. “No, I can’t get Trevor to come get me, who do you think I’m with?” Honey looks to Trevor and makes a face at him, feigning annoyance at the words of her best friend. “We’re going to call Cole. Yes, Cole.”

Trevor still doesn’t feel any better about that.

“No, babe, I gotta go. We’re almost at the fruit stand. I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. Unless you want to sleep over tonight?” Honey grins at Bea’s response. “Really? You’re not tired of that guy yet? Impressive.” She laughs. “Okay, bye. Love you.” Honey hangs up and puts her phone away, then lifts Trevor’s arm to bring it over her shoulders. She wraps her arm around his waist. 

They walk the rest of the way to the fruit stand like that, leaning on each other. Honey can’t seem to help herself, running her fingertips over the fuzzy surface of the peaches. Trevor’s not carrying her bag this time because, although he tried to keep it, Honey stole it from his shoulder. Instead, he’s able to watch her move in her own way. Her movements are practiced, like muscle memory, and it reminds Trevor of how she looked the first day they met. He has a sense of deja-vu when Honey tucks her hair behind her ears and plants one hand on her hip, pursing her lips as she looks at the fruit. 

“Hey, how did you know I was Greek?” Trevor asks suddenly, remembering how Honey’s eyes had illuminated when he told her his last name for the first time.

Honey looks over at him, drawing her eyebrows together.

“When we first met,” Trevor supplies. “Right here. I told you my name and you said ‘You’re Greek?’ all excited. You weren’t quite as excited after I told you I lived in Cali.”

Honey stares at him a moment longer, then she recalls the moment herself. “Oh!” She tilts her head to the side and hums, thinking. “Um, your nose? You’ve got a very Greek nose. And then I read an etymology book a while back, specifically about surnames around the world, and the Z and the -as in your name kind of gave it away.”

She’s so smart. Trevor likes her so much.

Honey breaks into a smile. “How cute of you, thinking about when we first met,” she teases. “What was your first impression of me?”

Trevor blushes, remembering exactly what he’d realized as he’d sat in the front seat of the car and looked at her from afar. “Uh, that you’re a lot prettier than the girls I know in California.” He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the concrete. “That I wanted– well, that I wanted your attention and I wanted you to like me.”

“I could tell,” Honey says, biting her bottom lip to curb the even-larger smile on her face. “You were trying really hard, Trev. It was… interesting.”

“I was interesting,” Trevor repeats. He squints at Honey and nudges her arm. “That’s all you thought about me?”

“I didn’t like you,” Honey laughs. “You bumped into me, nose in your phone, then you barely apologized, and then you came back a few minutes later and just started talking about shit, obviously lying to me about some of the details of your life. It was weird.”

Trevor tries not to pout at that. He had felt lame talking to Honey, but he didn’t realize that she’d actually found him off-putting. “You didn’t think I was cute or anything?”

Honey pauses, raising her eyebrows at him. “You’re very handsome, Trevor,” she says. She nods at him, blinking up at him in fake earnest. Trevor nearly rolls his eyes. Honey continues, “You were dressed like a bum, though.”

“I’d been in the car for eleven hours!” Trevor defends himself. 

Honey reaches over and pats his cheek. “Okay, sweetheart,” she says. “Don’t dwell on it. You’ve got me now, don’t’cha?”

Trevor grins. “Yeah.” He bends down and kisses her mouth. “I guess I’ll go call Cole.”

“Thanks,” Honey says. “I’ll be here.”

Trevor nods and walks away, just about a hundred feet. He leans against the brick wall of the grocery store and scrolls to find Cole’s contact. When he finds their shared messages, he clicks along until his phone is ringing and ready. 

Cole picks up in two rings. “Where are you?” he asks. “You’ve been gone all day. No note? Honestly, Z, you’re trying to kill me.”

“You were asleep when I left,” Trevor replies. 

“How did you leave? The car is here.” 

“Honey picked me up.” Trevor braces himself for impact, but Cole is quiet. “She had to run to Winston to pick up something, didn’t want to go alone, and I thought it might be nice to go see one of the girls I hooked up with who lives in Winston.”

Cole is quiet for a second longer, then he hums. “Okay. So… what, you want me to come out? Why are you calling me?”

Oh, now Trevor feels worse. Cole is going to hate that they went drinking without him, leaving him alone in the house. But, like… it was a date… Trevor should be allowed to go out with his girlfriend without a third wheel. “Um… well…”

Cole sighs into the speaker. “What,” he repeats impatiently.

“Honey and I went to Wild Bloom after we got back,” Trevor says. “Remember the wine bar that we went to with Ellen and Jim?”

Cole is eerily silent. 

“We’re a little drunk and we need you to pick us up from the grocery store,” Trevor admits sheepishly. “We, uh, we can’t drive like this.”

The silence stretches on.

“You’re calling me for a ride,” Cole says. “After you left me at home, alone, all day.”

Trevor presses his lips together. It really does sound bad. “Yeah.” At least Cole isn’t focusing on the fact that Trevor and Honey have been hanging out all day, one-on-one.

“Fuck you, dude. I’m on the way, but fuck you.” Cole promptly hangs up.

Trevor pulls the phone back from his ear and stares at the screen. He cringes, going through the conversation again in his head. He hates making the guys– but especially Cole– mad. Cole is his happy friend. When he gets angry… oh, when he gets angry… the mere thought sends a shiver up Trevor’s spine. The horrors of angry Cole…

He shakes his head and returns to Honey. “You ready, baby?” He asks, trying to sound upbeat.

Honey clocks him immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Trevor sighs. He wanted to pay at least before talking about this with Honey. “Cole’s mad,” he says. “I knew he would be. We should’ve invited him to drink.”

“I’m sure he’ll be over it by tomorrow,” Honey tells Trevor. “Cole never holds onto things for very long.” She tries to give Trevor a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t offer the same reprieve that it normally would. Trevor hates upsetting his friends.

“Let’s just pay, okay?” Trevor replies. He pulls his wallet out and hands it to Joan, who is quick to complete the payment and shoo them along. There are a couple of other people at the stand now, so it’s getting crowded. It’s not a huge stand. Regardless of how quickly she waves them off, Joan is sure to tell Honey and Trevor that she’ll see them next week.

Honey holds Trevor’s pinkie in hers silently for about five minutes as they walk around the grocery store, buying a case of beer for Cole. A big one– Honey said she’d pay for it, but Trevor refused, and they went for the 48-pack to really try and make it up to Cole. Honey lets go of Trevor’s pinkie once they’ve purchased the beer, insisting on holding it. She gets tired of holding the case and passes it off to Trevor within three minutes, frowning exaggeratedly until Trevor relents and takes the heavy item from her. 

Cole pulls up in front of the grocery store a few minutes later. He doesn’t say anything as Honey and Trevor climb into the car, except a brief thanks to Honey for the beer. His hands stay on the steering wheel and his eyes are set on the road in front of them. He doesn’t involve himself in conversation and the car ride slowly drifts into something stilted and tense. 

Trevor doesn’t walk Honey to the door, nor does he put her fruit away for her. He doesn’t kiss her goodnight and barely says more than a goodbye.

Cole still doesn’t speak when they drive back to the house. He doesn’t talk to Trevor when they go inside. He goes downstairs, puts on a show, and ignores Trevor when he sits on the couch next to Cole. 

The day went from really, really good to… this. Tomorrow will be better. Trevor wishes Honey was here.

72:90 – HONEY

Having Bea back is excellent, although Honey could live without the teasing over her relationship status. Fine, she called Trevor her boyfriend by accident and then made it official, but that doesn’t mean that Bea has to poke fun at Honey. It’s really not as funny as she thinks it is.

Their shift is long today, which Honey doesn’t mind. It’s National Night Out. On the first Tuesday of every August, the shops along Main Street stay open until well after dark and the citizens of Litchton are free to roam and mingle with their fellow townies. There’s a bouncy house in the grocery store parking lot for the kids, snow cone machines and carts for root beer floats lining the curb, and plenty of other games along the three-block section of road that closes down every year for the event. It’s one of Honey’s favorite days of the entire year.

She spent most of her afternoon setting up the outdoor booth that she and Bea will man after hours. Ada is planning on paying them for an entire day’s worth to extend the store’s hours– like she always does– even though Bea and Honey insisted that it wasn’t that serious and they would be fine taking their normal hourly pay. Honey still doesn’t think that sitting for five hours in the nice summer weather is worth a day’s pay, but Bea had eventually shushed her and said “This is not a thing that we should fight!”

The booth is all set up now and the ladies left the store around noon, so Honey is running out of things to do. The Reading Nook is an awesome place to work because there’s so much downtime, but Bea is currently sitting behind the cash register in Honey’s usual place, so she can’t sit and read like she normally does. Instead, Honey is curating a stack of books that they can throw on sale during NNO. She’ll probably take her break when she’s done– they get an extended break today because they’re working a fourteen-and-a-half hour day.

“Bea, can you pull up these titles and see the prices for me? I’m thinking 20% off,” Honey calls from one of the stacks, balancing a stack of books in her arms and pulling another from the shelf. 

“Mmm, if you put them on the counter for me,” Bea replies. “I don’t want to yell back and forth.”

“But then I have to walk back and forth to you,” Honey complains. She peeks her head around the stack and glares at Bea.

“Babe, if we’re having a lazy-off, you know I’m going to win,” Bea says. She closes her own book, one with a red cover and a dragon-looking beast on the front, and stares at Honey. She holds eye contact for a minute and then shrugs. 

Honey rolls her eyes and drops the first stack of books on the counter for Bea to flick through. She’s right– Honey prefers to be up and moving, whereas Bea is content with anything, even if it means staying in one spot for longer than an hour. 

She spends the better part of the next hour walking around the store and pulling books. Eventually, Ada stops Honey and asks if she’s trying to sell out the whole store. She takes the final stack from Honey’s arms and sends her out of the store to take her break.

At first, Honey isn’t sure what to do. She already ate lunch at the store when the ladies left. She doesn’t really need a coffee, although she wouldn’t hate to have one. She could grab one. Maybe that’s something to do towards the end of her break. Honey will wander a bit first.

The air in Litchton is nice in the midst of the afternoon, if only a little heavy. There will probably be a thunderstorm later tonight. If it doesn’t happen tonight, then tomorrow will certainly be full of rain and humidity. That kind of ruins Honey’s plans for after work tomorrow– she and Trevor were supposed to head out on a hike. If the ground is all muddy and wet, then she doesn’t really want to do that. Trevor can just come over and hang out in her bed instead. She’ll do the crossword in the Litchton Local, which she’s been neglecting lately because she’s been a bit too tired to wake up so early on Thursday mornings like she normally does. Honey blames Trevor. He’s been keeping her up late.

Honey is approaching the hardware store, ready to go inside and bother Earl, when her phone rings.

It’s… Trixie. Bea’s oldest sister.

Honey blinks at the screen, then slides her finger across the surface to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, H,” Trixie greets. “How’s it going? It’s been a minute since I checked in with you.”

“...Good,” Honey replies. Trixie is correct– the last time they talked was on Trixie’s birthday in January. Bea talks to her sister more often than Honey does, for obvious reasons. Honey’s a little confused why she’s getting a call now. “What’s up, Trix?”

“I can’t call my baby sister’s bestie and see how she is?” Trixie asks, laughing.

Honey looks into the distance like she’s staring into the face of a camera. She loves Trixie, and Cece for that matter, but she’s not close enough with either sister to talk to them regularly. Sure, they check in once in a while, but Trixie had already graduated from college– early, by the way, because she’s an overachiever– and moved to the coast before Honey and Bea moved to Litchton. She’s five years older than them and a great older sister figure, but Honey is grown up. She doesn’t really need advice from an older, wiser sister anymore. She didn’t even tell Trixie about Thomas when all of that happened; it was too embarrassing. Honey is pretty sure she knows now, given that Bea and Cece know all the hairy details, but Trixie has never outright talked about it. 

“You can, but I have a feeling you aren’t,” Honey answers. “You always text before you call and this time you called out of nowhere.”

“Well, Bea told me you were on break so I couldn’t call her and kill two birds with one stone,” Trixie says. “So I figured you had no good reason to ignore my call.”

So Trixie was talking to Bea just before this– if Honey is going by her gut, this will have something to do with the recent company they’ve had in Litchton. 

“Yeah, I’m just walking around Main Street.” Honey’s passing Bold Brews now, so she might as well get that coffee. “Hey, what coffee should I get during break?”

“I’ve been into matcha lately,” Trixie says. “It’s more tea than coffee, but it hits the spot when all the case briefs start blurring together.”

Oh, yeah– another reason why she’s an overachiever. Trixie is a lawyer. 

“Okay, give me a second.” Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and greets Joel, Bea’s ex who is actually working today, ordering a ‘Velvet Mist’ to go. It’s their matcha, with a shot of espresso, a bit of vanilla, and splash of rosewater, and it’s actually not all that bad. Honey doesn’t normally order it, usually going for the ‘Midnight Rider’ instead, but she likes a change every once in a while. The last time she ordered the ‘Velvet Mist’ was when it debuted on the menu a year and a half ago. After she pays and walks to the end of the counter to wait for her drink, Honey brings the phone back up to her ear. “So what are you calling about, Trix? Actually.”

“Ugh, fine,” Trixie relents. “You’re so stubborn. Next time we talk, at least pretend to enjoy the small talk. I miss you sometimes, you know.”

Honey accepts her drink from the other barista– she doesn’t actually know her name, which is surprising for a town like Litchton– and waves goodbye. She takes a sip from the straw and lets the taste mull over for a second. After a moment, Honey decides that it’s fine. She takes another sip. “Miss you too, Trix,” she parrots with an eye roll.

“I heard my two favorite country bumpkins got boyfriends this summer,” Trixie says. “And I was wondering if you guys would all like to come to the beach and stay with me this weekend. I want to meet your boys.”

Honey takes another sip. “Mm, where did you hear that?” She asks.

“Well, Cece told me about Quinn and when I called Bea just now, she was deflecting and being evasive and saying it wasn’t going to last past the end of the summer…”

Sounds about right, Honey thinks.

“...and then, as a last ditch effort to distract me, she told me about your boyfriend,” Trixie finishes, her tone salacious.

“She seems to have left out that my relationship is supposed to be a secret,” Honey says sarcastically. “In her effort to stop you from focusing on hers.”

Trixie scoffs. “You’re too young to have secrets. Who cares if you’re dating some guy?”

“Believe me, the boys would care.” Honey plops down on the bench outside of city hall and brings the phone to the other side of her head. She thinks about how Cole was silent and put off in the car yesterday, just like Trevor had said he would be. “They care about everything.”

“Okay, so frame it like this,” Trixie proposes. “It’s a free beach weekend. Just a group of friends going to Bea’s sister’s house and enjoying the sand, salt, and sun.”

Trevor would probably like being at the beach again, like he’s in California. The Hughes boys might like the open water– they had been whining about a “real” lake. They could experience the real ocean instead, which Honey thinks is better than a lake. Cole might… well, a beach trip might make him forget about being forgotten.

Ugh, it really does sound bad when Honey says it like that.

“I’ll talk to the guys,” Honey says after a brief pause, in which Trixie waits on the other end of the call with baited breath. “I’ll text you in like an hour, okay?”

“Sick, I’ll start preparing the guest room for you and Bea and the living room for the guys,” Trixie says. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! I can’t wait to see you, H. Hey, for revenge, don’t tell Bea until after the guys say yes. That’s what she gets for trying to keep secrets from me.”

That’s something Honey can agree with. It’s also revenge for revealing her secret to Trixie without warning Honey first. “Okay, sounds good. No promises! The guys might not want to come.”

“It’s a free beach weekend. They’ll come. Bye, Honey-bun! Love you.”

Before Honey can say it back, Trixie has hung up. Honey pulls the phone away and snorts out a laugh, shaking her head. She takes a second to drink her beverage before composing a text to Trevor.

Would Cole forgive you if I secured us all a free weekend trip to the beach? Honey asks.

Within minutes, Trevor is replying. He might try to kiss me on the mouth, Trevor says.

Wouldn’t be the first time. So Beach Trip is a go? Ask Q.

That reply comes a bit after. He wants to know how soon we can go.

Thursday?

Thursday works. Have you talked to Ada already??? What about work on Fri

I’ll talk to her now. Plan on Thursday night to drive down. See you tn for NNO?

YYES

Honey rolls her eyes at his joke and hearts the message, then puts her phone away. She’ll have to pick out a couple of books that Trevor might like for the sale. She can convince him to buy them and it’ll give him an excuse to hang out at the booth– Bea will probably sneak off with Quinn to get a snowcone or play a round of cornhole, so Honey needs someone to keep her company.

She texts Trixie on the way back to the Nook, confirming that the boys are down. She’s sure to include that there are five of them, all relatively rowdy and annoying, so Trixie should hide anything expensive before they get there. 

Back at the Nook, Honey rests her elbows on the counter and faces Bea. “So you told your sister about my boyfriend to avoid talking about your own boyfriend, huh?” Honey asks knowingly.

Bea glares at her. “You know how they get about boys.”

Honey laughs. “Which means you thought it would be better to throw me under the bus? Trixie didn’t fall for it, Buzzy.”

Bea groans, deflating. She shoves her bookmark into her book and tucks it underneath the counter, on the shelf next to Honey’s book. Bea then crosses her arms over her chest. “Damn, I was hoping she’d be too excited for you and she’d forget about me.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Honey says. “And you know what that means?”

“What?” Bea asks, a tinge of exasperation in her voice. Honey revels in it. She should be annoyed. Payback for spilling Honey’s business to her family– not that it really matters. Honey was going to tell Trixie and Cece eventually, probably around Thanksgiving when they get together next.

Honey leans forward and raises a finger to tap the tip of Bea’s nose. “You bought yourself a beach weekend in Topsail. Your boyfriend already agreed to go.”

“You coerced him,” Bea accuses.

“I didn’t coerce him, I just… conveniently left out a few details,” Honey replies. She grins at Bea, who is scowling. “You’re paying for gas.”

“I’m going to make sure Trixie interrogates Trevor just as much as she interrogates Quinn,” Bea threatens. “Just you wait.”

Honey shrugs. “This all could’ve been avoided if you’d kept your mouth shut.”

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey petulatntly.

Honey laughs and reaches out to try and pinch Bea’s tongue between her fingers, just to be an annoyance, but Bea flinches away. Instead, Honey tweaks her nose and pretends to steal it like she used to do to Luca in her babysitting days. Honey waves the “stolen nose” triumphantly over her head as she walks back to the stacks, ready to pick out her next few books, and Bea overexaggerates an annoyed huff at the desk. 

She might pretend like she’s annoyed, but she’ll enjoy the time in Topsail. Honey knows that she will.

73:90 – TREVOR

The hike up the mountain today is a stark contrast from the hike that Honey and Trevor first took together. For one, Honey isn’t sprinting up the mountain. Trevor isn’t chasing her, trying to catch up and ignoring the dull ache in his ankle with every other step. They’re walking up a trail named Cedar Hollow Path with which Honey seems very familiar, the sun is starting to set, and they’re hand-in-hand. It’s the picture of romance.

According to Honey, they’re less than five minutes from the peak of the mountain. They’ll stop for a break, then they’ll head back down. It’ll take about 45 minutes to get back down to the car, and then another 30 in the car. 

Honey’s phone is connected to Trevor’s mini speaker, which is clipped onto his backpack. He’d told her to play whatever she wanted and she’d thrown on her hiking playlist. Trevor doesn’t recognize some of the songs, but he likes them– what he likes more is that he gets to see the kind of music that Honey likes. It feels like a peek into her soul.

He loves this, being around her in what can only be described as her natural habitat. Each gust of wind and each patch of golden light that filters through the trees reminds Trevor of the girl by his side. 

The song they’re listening to now is warm like the sun. Trevor can’t say that he knows it, although he probably should. The voice of the man singing is familiar and the guitar plays an acoustic melody that makes Trevor bob his head to the beat. It’s one of those songs that could’ve been written last week or fifty years ago and Trevor wouldn’t be surprised either way. Everything seems slower while it plays and Trevor is all the more aware of each step that they take, and the way that Honey swings their hands between their bodies. Her crew socks are bunched up around the top of her hiking shoes, which are a lot more practical than Trevor’s sneakers. 

At the end of the song, a harmonica comes in, and Trevor looks out at the view cresting over the horizon. There’s a neat clearing in the trees and the sun is off to their left, so they’re not blinded by the brightness that is unfiltered by the woods around them. Trevor takes in the ridges and valleys of the mountains, which seem to be bathing in the sunshower. He looks at the way the light brightens Honey’s tan, summer skin.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be in the mountains again without thinking about you,” Trevor thinks aloud, breaking the silence. He squeezes Honey’s hand when he’s done speaking.

Honey’s lips quirk up at the corners, taking a full deep breath before she tears her eyes from the view and turns to Trevor. She squeezes his hand back. “I’m really glad you came here,” she says softly. She technically changed the subject, but Trevor can’t imagine another reply working any better than this one did.

Trevor’s expression smooths out and matches Honey’s. He leans in and presses his lips to her mouth. 

Honey pulls away. “Let’s snack, then we’ll head back down,” she decides. Her voice has returned to its normal slightly-bossy tone, which Trevor finds amusing. She’s so matter-of-fact all the time and she’s not shy about it. 

Trevor follows her to a boulder and takes a seat with his thighs brushing hers. He swings his backpack around his shoulders and doesn’t protest when Honey snatches it from his grasp, looking in the big pocket and digging around for the tiny bag that she’d stuffed inside so that she wouldn’t have to carry anything this time. “What’s the good of having a boyfriend if he doesn’t carry all your stuff?” Honey had asked and Trevor had pretended to be annoyed, just to appease her and make her smug about getting one over on him. He would have carried it anyway, but she likes that she managed to get him to do it without actually asking him to.

She grins devilishly at him when she pulls her back out and unzips it, finding her snack and drawing it out.

Trevor groans. “You can’t be serious.”

Honey turns the banana over in her hands. “What do you mean?” She peels it from the bottom, holding the stem in her fist like it’s a handle. “Potassium means that your muscles won’t cramp as much. We’re hiking, I think it’s important that I don’t get a cramp.” She takes a bite of the fruit, sure to hold eye contact with Trevor the whole time.

“You are not as funny as you think you are,” Trevor tells her. He takes his backpack from her lap and finds his own snack– a peanut butter protein bar. 

Honey shrugs. She tilts her head down slightly, blinking her eyes innocently, and slides the banana into her mouth just enough for Trevor to get the picture before biting into the fruit and chewing proudly. 

Trevor has to look out at the mountains on the horizon or else Honey will keep up this behavior, dissatisfied with her performance until he’s got a hard-on. His protein bar tastes like cardboard in his mouth, but Trevor chews it resolutely, probably more forcefully than he needs to, to keep his mind from wandering.

“So Ada is letting us take off work on Friday,” Honey says after she’s done with her banana. She throws the peel onto Trevor’s lap when she is finished with it. “Which means we can leave on Thursday after work. It’s almost a five hour drive, but there will be five of us in the car, so we only have to do an hour each. Ish. That’ll be nice, I think.”

“I think Jack and Luke are going to fly into Wilmington and drive up on Thursday night. Can you send me the address so I can send it to them?” Trevor replies.

Honey waves him off. “I have Jack’s number, I’ll just text him. Cut out the middleman.” Honey rests her chin on her hand and makes a face at Trevor. “I know you said you’re bone-tired of being the middleman.”

Trevor rolls his eyes at her joke. “Tired of being Bea’s middleman,” he corrects. He pops the last bit of protein bar in his mouth and tucks his trash into the side pocket of his backpack. “I’d be your middleman any day of the week.”

“How sweet of you,” Honey deadpans, laughing to herself. She rises from the boulder and pulls Trevor up when he extends his hands. 

He stands right in her space and rests his hands on her hips before she can step away. He pecks her lips once, then twice. He thumbs over the skin of her waist, which is pleasantly bare due to the heat and humidity of the day. Honey is wearing a tiny sports bra and those biker shorts she loves so much, leaving very little to Trevor’s imagination. He wants to bite her stomach and leave a hickey there.

“And then we’ll leave on Sunday,” Honey adds belatedly. Her fingertip brushes the middle of his stomach, like their minds are connected. Trevor had forgone his shirt when he saw that she’d done the same. “Because Bea said you guys wanted to go to the rink on Monday. Gotta get one last practice in at Bojangles.”

“Do you want to come?” Trevor asks. He wants her to come. Last time they went, she got into a fight with Bea. Honey should have a good experience at the rink. Plus, maybe this time she’ll agree to road head.

“Monday is the 12th,” Honey replies.

Before, when she changed the subject after Trevor said something, it was fine. He felt like her non-answer was a perfectly good response. This non-answer is more on topic, yet… somehow worse. He’s confused. Does Honey have work or something on the 12th? Is it some book holiday that Trevor knows nothing about? “So?”

Honey scrunches up her nose. “The 12th is my parents’ anniversary,” she says. “Chris and Steph are celebrating the big 3-0 this year.”

Trevor’s not sure what to do with that information. “Is that a weird day for you? Do you want to stay home? I don’t mind if you do,” he tells Honey. He takes her hand and they start down the path from which they came.

Honey bites her lower lip, chewing on it for a second. Trevor gives her the space to think, instead focusing on the song that plays through his speakers. This one, he recognizes. It’s by that guy– Jack something. The one who always makes Trevor think of Curious George. The song is Banana Pancakes.

Lots of banana references seem to be appearing in Trevor’s life lately.

“I was thinking more like… I might want to see them,” Honey reveals after a few minutes of silence. She’s hesitant to admit it, Trevor can tell. “And, well, if we’re already in Charlotte… do you think you’d, I don’t know, want to meet them?”

Trevor chokes on his own spit in surprise, although he keeps himself from coughing. Of all the things he expected Honey to say, an invitation to meet her parents was not one of those things. 

“You can say no,” Honey says in a rush, like she’s covering up her tracks. “Really, you can. I was just– ugh– I don’t really want to go alone and I love Bea, but she already knows my parents, if that makes sense? Like, she has a history with them, so it would be really easy for all of us to rely on her to guide the conversation, and that’s just not fair. If I’m going to see my parents, then I should be the one to talk to them.”

Trevor still doesn’t know what to say. Meeting Honey’s parents? The parents she doesn’t talk to? That’s… a lot.

But she’s still not done talking. Her voice grows quieter, so quiet that Trevor has to strain to hear her. “I think it would keep me calm if I could hold your hand, too,” Honey mumbles.

Well, if that doesn’t damn Trevor. The second she utters those words, he’s hopeless to say no to her. Trevor’s not the kind of guy who meets the parents, considering the fact that all of his other relationships have been fairly casual and low-key, but he’s going to have to meet Honey’s parents at some point. He wasn’t exactly sure when, but it was somewhere in the distant future… or so he thought.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Trevor tells Honey. “It’ll be cool to meet your parents. I mean, it might be awkward, but I’d like to meet the people who made you.”

Honey makes a face and recoils slightly. “Don’t say it like that.”

Trevor laughs. “I thought you liked your parents,” he says. “Even though you don’t talk to them. So why are you cringing at the thought of them?”

“I like my parents a normal amount,” Honey says. “Which means that I don’t want to think about them ‘making me’ ever. How would you feel if I talked about how your parents made you? And your brother, and your sister? Those two were made while you were alive, Trevor. You could’ve been in the next room over.”

“That’s too far,” Trevor interjects, scowling at Honey. “You don’t get to flaunt your only-child-ness in that context.”

“Who says I’m an only child?” Honey asks, grinning at Trevor. 

Immediately, he comes up short. Has Honey ever outright said she’s an only child? Trevor asks himself. Or is he assuming something else about her, yet again? This is like when he assumed she was from Litchton all over again…

“I’m kidding, Trev. Yes, I’m an only child, you got that one right,” Honey assures him. “But there’s something I was thinking about last night that might come up when I see my parents.”

“What’s that?” Trevor asks, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“They know I go by Honey, obviously. I’ve been using that name since I was in kindergarten.” Honey lets go of Trevor’s hand to walk in front of him, since the path is narrowing too much to walk side-by-side.

“Wait, Honey’s not your real name?” Trevor teases, pretending to be aghast. “All this time, I thought that was on your birth certificate. I thought your parents were just really into beekeeping or something.”

“Hardy har,” Honey jibes sarcastically. “No, Trev. You know that’s not my real name.”

Which is true, Trevor does know that Honey isn’t her real name. He doesn’t actually know Honey’s real name, since she never uses it, but he has a feeling he’s about to find out.

“I was overthinking last night and started tweaking about, like–” Honey adopts a mocking, low voice. “What if my parents feel just as awkward as I do and they call me ‘Charlotte?’ I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility.”

“Your name is Charlotte?” Trevor demands, his voice sprouting an edge as a result of his surprise. “That doesn’t fit you at all.”

“Oh-kay,” Honey replies that in the same tone, looking over at Trevor and curling her lip. She shakes her head and flips her hand up in exasperation. “It’s not like I chose it, Trevor. Also, that’s not what you say when someone tells you their name. Have you ever met a person before in your life?”

“I’ve met many people and most of them enjoy my company, but thank you for the advice,” Trevor says. “Still, though, you know what I mean. Charlotte isn’t your vibe.”

“What do you think my name should’ve been, then?” Honey challenges. 

“I don’t know,” Trevor replies. “Ava or Lauren, maybe. You look like an Ava.”

He can’t see her, but Trevor has a feeling that she’s huffing and rolling her eyes.

“But, like, your name is Honey. Honey fits. That makes sense. I don’t know why they named you Charlotte, especially since you were living in Charlotte anyway. Doesn’t that get tiresome? That’s like if my parents named me Bedford– which is a terrible name, by the way,” Trevor continues on, rambling a bit and spewing whatever comes to his mind, speaking to the back of Honey’s head.

Honey turns around and walks backwards down the trail, tilting her head at Trevor and nodding exaggeratedly. Her eyes are comically wide. She holds her hands up as if she’s saying ‘Yeah, Trev, that’s exactly it.’

“They named you Charlotte because you lived in Charlotte?” Trevor asks, seeking clarification.

“Yeah, it was very creative,” Honey replies, turning back around and leading the way. Her ponytail bounces. “Charlotte was also my mom’s favorite character in Sex and the City.”

Trevor hums at that, but doesn’t reply. They continue down the slope, weaving through trees and avoiding mud puddles from the rain the right before. All the while, Honey’s music plays on. 

A thought pops into Trevor’s head and he makes the joke before realizing that it’s funny. “Double homicide to Charlotte, H. First you forsake your name and then you move away? You really have something against Charlottes, huh?”

Honey steps walking and hangs her head, her chest shaking with quiet laughter. She takes takes a breath and sighs aloud, “Ohhh my God.” She turns back to Trevor and takes his hand, clasping it in both of her own. “You have got to start thinking before you speak if I’m going to bring you home to my parents, Trev. I don’t think they want you insulting the name of their city or the name that they picked for their daughter.”

She kisses his mouth, then they walk the rest of the trail in silence, hand-in-hand.

74:90 – HONEY

Taking one car to Topsail might’ve been this summer’s biggest mistake.

Really, it made the most sense. They took Quinn’s car with its three rows of seats and Honey was happy to relegate herself to the way-way back after her turn behind the wheel. Her duffelbag is on the seat next to her, containing four different outfits for the next three days, pajamas, toiletries, bathing suits, her slippers and birkenclogs, and a beach towel in case Trixie didn’t have enough at her place. The rest of the bags are in the back of the car, behind Honey’s seat. 

Right now, Cole is behind the wheel. He’s actually not a bad driver, even though he’d complained about having to drive at all. He says he’s more of a passenger– which Bea had agreed with– but that excuse hadn’t worked for either of them. For Cole, it hadn’t worked because no one wanted to drive for more than their fair share. For Bea, Quinn had offered to take her place… but Honey had chimed in and explained that Bea is the person who is most familiar with Trixie’s home. It only makes sense that she takes the last driving shift– which is already shorter than the rest anyway– and is the one to pull into her sister’s driveway.

Bea had huffed about it, but she’d been outvoted. Honey thought it was only fair that she drive, Trevor agrees with anything Honey says, and Cole had been adamant that if he had to drive, then Bea had to drive too.

On the bright side, they’re more than halfway through the drive. They’re in the Siler City to Raleigh leg of the trip, which means that they’re still in civilization. The final stretch of the drive is along backroads, but Honey likes it. It’s like there’s a Litchton-style small-town-vibe on both coasts.

What she likes less is that she’s been trying to nap in the back for a little while now and Bea is starting to get annoyed with the music in the car.

They created a Spotify blend with all of their accounts. It had taken thirty minutes to get the blend set up, since Bea is against giving her phone number to anyone but Honey and Trevor. First, everyone needed to join the blend. Then, Honey had to send the blend to Bea. Then, all they had to do was hit play on Cole’s phone, since he was the one who started the blend in the first place. There were only three steps. It still took way longer than it should have.

“You can’t just skip every song that you don’t like,” Trevor fights from the seat just in front of Honey, trying to reach around the passenger seat and grab the phone from Bea’s hands. “It’s not fair to the rest of us who do like those songs.”

“No one wants to listen to ‘Devil in a New Dress’ by Kayne West, Trevor!” Bea exclaims. She leans forward and rests her head against the dashboard, out of Trevor’s reach. The phone stays between her knees, well away from everyone else in the car. “Isn’t he still, like, a terrible fucking person?”

“Your precious Taylor Swift is flying all over the world without a care about how it’s affecting the environment,” Trevor shoots back. “What is it all of her fans say when people bring that up? ‘Separate the art from the artist?’”

“Do we have to have the Taylor Swift vs. Kanye debate,” Cole tries to interrupt, sounding just as fed up as Honey. 

“My precious Taylor Swift?” Bea demands, speaking over Cole. “Don't sit on your high horse and act like you hate her when I saw you singing ‘You Belong With Me’ in the mirror earlier!”

Trevor opens his mouth and closes it a few times, not having a good comeback ready.

“Kanye West is an anti-Semite who said on record that slavery was a choice,” Bea continues. “Trevor, out of the four friends that have been living with you all summer, three are Jewish.”

“Not actively practicing,” Quinn points out. 

Honey thinks this is novel. It’s the first time he’s ever said anything to contradict Bea– at least, to her face. There was that one time in the car when Honey called him out for not committing and he’d said “I’m committed,” as if he wasn’t the problem.

“You’re Jewish by matrilineal descent!” Bea scoffs. “That’s, like, the whole thing with being ethnically Jewish. Do you think Kanye West gives a fuck if you’re practicing Judaism or not? He would absolutely have something against you and I don’t want to listen to a person who spreads hate!”

“Didn’t you play ‘Call Me Maybe’ two hours ago?” Trevor asks. “Isn’t Carly Rae a shit person too? Wasn’t she racist towards CupcakKe?”

Bea pauses, relenting slightly. “Okay, I don’t actually know who CupcakKe is and I’ve never heard that Carly Rae Jepson stuff, so… T-B-D on that argument until I can do some light googling. But, still, Trevor– you should not be giving your attention to Kanye.”

“Bea, I am going to be completely honest with you right now, I don’t think this is the hill you want to die on,” Trevor says, still arguing. “I feel like there are more pressing issues in the world than a singer’s beliefs.”

“He’s insanely influential, Trevor! People listen to his shit for entertainment, but there’s a very real possibility that they’ll take his word as Gospel because he’s a ‘good artist’ or whatever–”

“Can we all shut up?” Honey snaps. “It’s not this fucking serious.”

“It is this serious,” Bea tries, but stops speaking when Honey buries her face in the back of Trevor’s chair and lets out a muffled scream.

“You two are the most insufferable people ever,” Honey spits out. “No one wants to listen to you bicker like children. I don’t like Kanye West either, but you’re both being stupid and stubborn and we still have two hours left in the car. I will break the back window and throw myself onto the highway if I have to listen to any more of your bullshit. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Trevor mumbles. He looks over his shoulder and frowns at Honey, like she’ll commiserate with him at the sheer sight of his sad face. She won’t, because he deserved it. It’s partially his fault that she’s raising her voice at all. 

“Yes,” Bea groans. Honey can hear her rolling her eyes. 

“Yes, Honey,” Cole echoes. He actually sounds the saddest of them all and he wasn’t even in the fight.

Honey has to suppress a smile at his agreement. She doesn’t want to diminish her successful scolding by bursting into laughter. “Good,” she says, trying to hold her voice steady. “Now, if you don’t mind, I am trying to take a nap.” She promptly turns in her seat and tries to curl up as best she can without unbuckling her seatbelt. 

There’s five songs of silence by Honey’s count, and then a slow country duet begins to play. 

Within thirty seconds, just as Honey is deciding that she likes the song, Bea announces, “Well, this is too slow. We can’t listen to this. We’ll be put to sleep.”

“That’s the whole point,” Honey jumps in before she can skip the track. She opens one eye and squints at Bea. “Plus, I thought you hated when people– Jack– skip through songs instead of letting them play though.”

Bea scowls. “You suck. I’m not going to let you sleep in the guest room with me.”

“I suck ‘cause I’m right?” Honey laughs. “As if Trixie would let you kick me out of the guest room anyway. She likes me better because I didn’t cut off Felicity’s hair over a stupid birthday party invitation.”

“That’s not fair,” Bea complains. “Everyone got an invitation except me.”

“What happened?” Quinn asks, his growing smile looking slightly askew and crooked on his face. “Who’s Felicity?”

“Trixie’s American Girl doll, who she loved,” Honey explains. “Like, her most prized possession, and on her eleventh birthday she hand-wrote cute invitations for all of her friends and Bea was pissed that she didn’t get one–”

“Again, not fair, because you got one and you were only invited to the party because my parents let me choose a friend to hang out with that day,” Bea interrupts.

“The party was at your house! You lived there, you didn’t need a special invitation,” Honey exclaims, then turns back to Quinn. “So Bea, five years old and pissed off, sneaks into Trixie’s room and chops off all of Felicity’s hair, and puts it in a gift basket for Trixie to unwrap at the party!”

Quinn’s eyes grow wide and he starts to laugh out loud, eyes darting over to Bea.

“So Trixie unwraps it and starts crying over her favorite doll being ruined and that kills the vibe of the party, and then–”

“No–” Bea growls, turning in her seat and waving a finger at Honey.

“–Then, Bea lies about it to her mom and dad and gets away with it for a whole month, until her mom finds the scissors in Bea’s sock drawer, which had been missing since the Felicity incident,” Honey continues, entirely unafraid of Bea’s threat. “And Trixie didn’t speak to Bea for, like, two weeks and Felicity was never the same after coming back from the Doll Hospital.”

“The scissors were a plant by Cece because I put them back when I was done and she overreacted,” Bea justifies. “Felicity came back just fine, practically brand new–”

“She overreacted,” Honey repeats, gobsmacked that Bea still maintains that she didn’t do anything wrong. “You destroyed her $90 doll on her birthday!”

“I was five,” Bea says.

“You did all of that over a piece of paper written in sparkly gel pen!”

“That’s it?” Cole demands. “Bea, dude, I’ll write you an invitation to a party in sparkly gel pen right now just so you can let this go.”

“I’m not the one who brought it up,” Bea defends herself. “Honey’s the one who can’t let it go.”

“Who knew you were such a monster, baby,” Quinn joins in, reaching forward to pinch the skin on the back of Bea’s elbow.

Bea jerks her arm away. “Ugh, whatever,” she grumbles. She turns toward the window and pouts, glaring into the settling dusk. Honey isn’t worried about knocking her down a few pegs– she’ll be over it by the time the next Miley Cyrus song rolls around.

Honey actually falls asleep when Cole and Trevor switch spots after getting gas in Raleigh. Cole sings along with as many songs as he can– he actually does a rather impressive Dolly Parton– and Bea eventually joins in.

The post-debate liveliness in the car is a good sign for the weekend ahead. Honey’s really excited for Jack and Luke to drive up, too, just to reunite the group. Jack’s text announcing his ETA came in just before Honey fell asleep and they’re slated to make it to Trixie’s house about an hour after the Litchton car does. 

Honey’s already planning the full beach day tomorrow. She’s going to bury Jack in the sand in the shape of a mermaid’s tail. It’s what he deserves.

75:90 – TREVOR

Trevor wakes to soft voices drifting in from the kitchen. The layout of Bea’s sister’s house is pretty open, which is great for the lighting in the place, but not great for those who like to sleep in. She lives alone, so she’s only got one guest room and that’s where the girls are sleeping. Trevor and the rest of the boys are in the living room. 

Quinn and Jack are sharing the pull-out couch, Luke is reclining in the plush chair, and Trevor and Cole are sharing the blow-up mattress. The coffee table is pushed against the wall underneath the TV.

Trevor recognizes Honey’s voice after he’s done blinking the sleep from his eyes. It’s the same soft tone she uses when she apologizes for waking him up as she gets out of bed. Trevor stretches, then shifts out from under the blanket he’s sharing with Cole. He rolls onto the floor in order to minimize his chance of waking Cole and picks himself up, tiptoeing into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Trixie greets as Trevor walks into the room. She holds a mug of coffee near her chin and raises her eyebrows, which are dark, like her hair. She looks just like Bea, but her hair is nearly black. Trevor wonders if it’s dyed. “Which one are you again?”

Trevor breathes out a little laugh and sidles up behind Honey, kissing her bare shoulder. “G’morning.”

“Mm, that one,” Trixie hums. “You want a coffee, Trevor?” 

She’s turning and pouring a mug before Trevor can decline. Trevor looks at the clock on the microwave and sees that it’s not even seven yet, which is typical Honey behavior. He’s been trying hard all summer to keep her in bed until a reasonable eight o’clock, but she loves her routine and she’s actually very chipper in the morning. 

“You’re up early,” Honey comments, sipping from her own mug. 

“Someone woke me up.” Trevor smiles.

“We weren’t talking that loud,” Honey replies. She looks over at Trixie. “Were we?”

Trixie scoffs. “God, no. I don’t reach above twenty decibels until I hit morning traffic. It’s a pretty steep jump after that.” She sets the steaming mug in front of Trevor and leans against the counter.

“Why are you up so early?” Trevor asks. “I know why she’s up, but why are you?” He points his thumb at Honey when he references her, then wraps his hand around the handle of his mug.

Trixie’s lips quirk up. “Not all of us have summers off from work.” She sounds amused. “I have to head to the office in a little bit. I have meetings today, so I’m having a cup of coffee and heading out.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Honey supplies, answering Trevor’s question before he asks. “Real estate law.”

Trevor doesn’t know anything about real estate law. “That’s cool,” he says, shrugging. 

Trixie hums in the back of her throat and narrows her eyes. “I don’t know about ‘cool,’” she teases. “But it works for me.”

“Anyway, I was telling Trixie that I was going to go to the store before everyone wakes up,” Honey says to Trevor. “Do you want to come?”

“We can’t eat the food in the fridge?” Trevor asks.

“I didn’t go shopping for seven people,” Trixie says. She sips from her coffee, inspects the mug, and downs the rest of the liquid inside. “Plus, some of that shit is old. I need to clean out. You guys need to buy your own stuff. I can only provide so much to your traveling band of vagabonds.” She sets her mug in the sink and rinses it out, but leaves it sitting there. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Honey parrots.

“I’m going to throw on my good clothes and then I’m off,” Trixie says. She rounds the counter and presses a kiss to the side of Honey’s head, squishing her cheeks. “Don’t set my house on fire while I’m gone.”

“Are there any dolls lying around that we should know about?” Trevor jokes, thinking about the Bea story from yesterday.

Luckily, Trixie’s shoulders jump with a laugh. “Nah, those are in the safe. I had to lock them and the scissors away just in case. That’s funny, Trevor.” She flicks the back of his head as she walks away, which stings a bit, but Trevor figures it’s just as affectionate as the kiss she gave Honey.

Trevor waits for her to walk out of earshot, then turns to Honey. “She doesn’t actually still have dolls, though, right? Because that would be kind of creepy,” he admits. 

Honey rolls her eyes and reaches over to pat Trevor’s hand. “No, I don’t think Trixie has any dolls in this place. She kind of outgrew that when she hit middle school, bud.”

Trevor deflates at the nickname. 

“Don’t make that face,” Honey chides quietly. She tosses a look over her shoulder, towards where the rest of the guys are sleeping. “You know I can’t talk to you like that right now.”

“I know,” Trevor sighs. “What about at the store, though?”

Honey smiles into her coffee. “Yes, you can be all… you… at the grocery store.”

“Sick.” Trevor celebrates getting permission to act like a boyfriend with a fist pump. “Let me get dressed and we can go.”

Honey hums and finishes off her coffee. She takes Trevor’s mug, which he had no intentions of finishing anyway, and takes it with her to the guest bedroom. 

Trixie sneaks out the front door with a wave to Trevor a few minutes later. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a nice blouse, which is pretty impressive. Trevor likes his walk-up suits, but he doesn’t really think he could wear them for an entire day of work. They’re too stuffy.

Honey follows not far behind. She’s in a pretty sundress and her birkenclogs and Trevor can see the strings of her bikini rise up and loop around the back of her neck. She takes the keys to the smaller car that Jack and Luke drove up from Wilmington last night and waves Trevor forward, shutting the door quietly behind them.

The drive to the grocery store is practically a straight line. They turn out of Trixie’s driveway onto the main road, then turn into the parking lot of another Food Lion, like the one in Litchton. It must be a North Carolina thing. Trevor had never seen a grocery store called “Food Lion” until he got here.

Honey grabs the cart from the collection area when they walk in the store, then allows Trevor to bump her out of the way and take the reigns. He’s on good behavior for a while, dutifully rolling the cart beside Honey and waiting patiently while she tries to decide between fusili or orecchiette noodles for a homemade mac’n’cheese that she wants to put together for Trixie. Apparently, macaroni noodles aren’t good enough because mac’n’cheese is Trixie’s favorite side dish and has been since she was a child.

The grocery store isn’t very full, given that it’s 7:30 in the morning on a Friday, and the barren hallways are too tempting. Trevor starts to drifts around corners, pop wheelies, and races down aisles far ahead of Honey. When he accidentally bumps into her in the chip aisle, she shoots him a glare that would melt ice, and sends him off to go find hamburger patties for Quinn to grill later tonight.

He takes the grocery cart with him. She might be able to discourage him from performing his NASCAR tricks while she’s around, but what Honey doesn’t see won’t hurt her. Trevor’s not going to let one accidental collision ruin his fun.

He coasts down to the ground beef, staring at his options. Would Quinn rather have pre-made patties, or would he like to form the patties himself? He is weird like that. Maybe smash burgers would be fun…

Trevor reaches for the meat that he thinks would work best, dropping it in the cart. As he walks toward the slices of cheese, a guy with a Giants hat accidentally cuts him off.

“Sorry, man,” the guy laughs, gesturing for Trevor to go ahead. He uses the carton of chocolate milk in his hand to wave Trevor forward.

“No, dude, don’t worry about it,” Trevor replies, letting the guy go ahead of him. “It’s all good. Can’t hold anything against a fellow Giants fan.”

“Oh, you’re a New York guy?” The guy reaches for a pack of string cheese, the ones that mix mozzarella and cheddar in a fun swirl. That’s not a bad idea. Trevor might pick up a pack of those for himself. “Excited for the big centennial next year?”

“It’s gonna be awesome,” Trevor says. “I hope we make the playoffs.”

“Hey, me too,” he tells Trevor with a chuckle. He looks at Trevor for a second, then blinks. “Wait, aren’t you–”

Trevor allows a smile to take over his face, hoping that it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. He forgot how awkward it is to be recognized in public, especially when you’re doing something as mundane as grocery shopping. “Yeah.” He extends his hand. “Trevor. It’s nice to meet you, dude.”

“Tommy,” the guy returns, grasping Trevor’s hand firmly. “What are you doing all the way out here, man? Don’t you play for Anaheim?”

“My girlfriend and our friends are spending the weekend at the beach during the off-season, actually. We just got in last night.” Trevor nods along with his own statement. He waves his hand at the contents of the cart. “She wakes up early, so I thought I’d tag along with the grocery shopping.”

“Good man,” Tommy praises. He holds up the cheese and chocolate milk. “I got sent out on my own. Pregnancy cravings from the wife.”

“Good man yourself,” Trevor laughs.

“Where’d you drive in from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tommy asks. “Long road trip from Cali?”

“Nah, I’m not built for that shit,” Trevor jokes. “Why do you think the league has jets now? No, my girlfriend lives near Winston-Salem. Tiny town. Litchton, actually, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

“I have, actually. Been there once, too– I used to know someone who lives up there.” Tommy shifts his items into one hand and reaches for his phone. “Hey, would you mind if we get a picture?”

Trevor’s about to comply, but he sees Honey exit from the chip aisle with her arms full. He raises a hand to wave her over. “Hon,” Trevor calls. “Over here. Check it out, a Giants fan all the way down south. Tommy and I were just about to take a picture–”

“Is that what you go by now? Tommy?” Honey asks. Her eyes were sparkling when she first spotted Trevor, but now they’ve turned sullen and guarded and she’s stopped walking forward. 

Trevor takes in her body language, how she’s tersely holding the chips in front of her body like a barrier. Her shoulders are pulled back and her jaw is set tightly. Trevor suddenly stands to his full height. 

This must be Thomas.

He’s sandwiched between them, having turned to Honey when Trevor’s eyes slid over his shoulder and lit up at the sight of his girlfriend. Thomas is looking between them, although he mostly stares at the girl down the corridor to his right.

At least he has the decency to look like he’s seen a ghost.

“Oh my God, Honey,” Thomas grimaces. 

“You’re Thomas,” Trevor says aloud, repeating his internal monologue. His voice is hard. “You’re that Thomas.”

“Ruined any lives lately?” Honey snaps, her eyes narrowed and fierce. 

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Thomas tries. “Really, I am. It was, well, you know how it was. We were kids and I was hopped up on all this shit, but I’m clean now and I found Jesus again and–”

“I ‘really’ don’t give a fuck,” Honey interrupts, mocking him. Her movements are becoming exaggerated, the way they do when she’s barely containing her rage. 

“I’m going to have to turn you down for that picture,” Trevor says, jerking the cart back and starting to push it towards Honey. He pauses and looks Thomas dead in the eyes. “I know you have quite the reputation when it comes to photos.”

Trevor pushes past the man, feeling sick and seeing red. He was nice to this guy. He was having a good conversation with him. Fuck– they talked about his wife. He’s got a pregnant wife at home. That makes Trevor want to throw up.

Honey is still standing her ground and staring at her ex-boyfriend, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Trevor has to take her arm and pull her away.

Without speaking, they head straight for the cash register. Honey is stewing and grinding her teeth, so Trevor sends her out to the car. The teenage cashier was starting to send him panicked looks, evidently thinking that Honey’s glare was directed at her. When he steps outside, groceries in hand, Honey has parked the car right in front of the store. The flashers are on and Trevor appreciates not having to walk all the way to the vehicle, but he is a little apprehensive about Honey driving.

It’s a straight line. It can’t be that bad.

Trevor keeps an eye on her, though. He’s obvious about it. He faces her during the first half of the ride, counting the times Honey’s jaw clenches and unclenches, and plans to continue his count for the rest of the ride. He loses track as soon as Honey speaks.

“Stop looking at me,” Honey says.

Trevor won’t. He’s not sure what she’s thinking and he won’t stop searching her face until he knows. “No.”

“Okay, then stop looking at me like that,” Honey amends. “I can see you trying to figure me out. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just give me a minute to process it, dude–”

“Don’t call me dude,” Trevor interrupts with a frown. It’s like when she calls him ‘Z,’ or earlier, when she called him ‘bud.’ He’s not her friend. He’s her boyfriend. He deserves more than ‘dude,’ especially because he’s only looking at her like this because he cares and he’s worried.

“–and then I’ll tell you how I’m feeling,” Honey finishes. She tosses a glance at Trevor, eyebrows pinched together. “Also, it’s a force of habit. I’m not calling you ‘dude’ to be a bitch. Stop acting like I am.”

Trevor doesn’t think he’s acting like that, but that’s an argument for another time. Tensions are high right now. He should’ve thought about that a second ago– again, with the ‘thinking before he speaks’ idea. Maybe Honey has a point.

She flicks the turn signal on and creeps into Trixie’s driveway. Honey throws the car into park and pulls the key from the ignition. She sits back in her seat borderline-agressively and huffs. Trevor would laugh at the way she crosses her arms over her chest if it weren’t for the situation at hand. She lets out a deep breath. “Five fucking years,” she curses. Her attention turns to Trevor. “I hate him. Even after five fucking years.”

Trevor nods. “I think he deserves that.”

Honey inhales, nodding and chewing on the inside of her cheek. She’s more angry than upset and Trevor can’t help but feel like that might be better than a freak-out. He also isn’t one to label things, but… her anger is a good sign, to him. Honey’s not drowning in the debris that Thomas left. She’s practically surfing on it, running on adrenaline and fury. That’ll fade eventually, but Trevor thinks that this might be a step forward rather than two steps back.

To be determined.

She takes a few more breaths, her face slowly becoming less tense with each exhale. After a minute, the wrinkle between her eyebrows has faded and her mouth is in a straight line rather than a frown.

Trevor reaches out and cups Honey’s face. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just musters up a sympathetic smile. 

Honey holds eye contact, then her lips quirk up and her lashes flutter in a little eye roll. “I need to talk to Bea,” she says. She leans into his touch. “She was there. No offense, but she’ll get it more than you do.”

Trevor breathes out a laugh. “I think you’re right.”

Honey leans over the center console and kisses Trevor’s lips in a fleeting, yet sweet, pass. “Can you take the boys to the beach so they don’t hear? I think we might scream and yell a bit.”

“Anything you want,” Trevor agrees. He pauses. “But… you’ll talk to me after, right?”

Honey kisses him again, gently. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you after. I just… I want to get my mind wrapped around this first. I might have to sleep on it.” She looks at that clock, then jokes, “Even though it’s not even nine in the morning yet.”

“Maybe you’ll take a midday nap,” Trevor replies with a wink.

Honey snorts. “Be patient, Trev.”

Trevor draws back and releases his hold on Honey’s cheek. He changes the subject. “You go on up. I’ll put the groceries away, then I’ll round up the boys.”

Honey thanks him, then exits the car. She leaves the keys with him and heads up the stairs, disappearing from Trevor’s sight.

He’ll do as he promised, taking the groceries up for Honey and leaving the house with the boys within thirty minutes of their arrival. They had to pack a cooler, to be fair, and that always takes a little time. 

By the time Honey and Bea make it down to the beach around midday, the boys are ravenous. Honey and Bea come bearing sandwiches and they eat in a circle, sitting on their towels, like it’s a picnic.

After lunch, Cole digs a hole. Bea and Quinn head into the water, bobbing in the waves. At the same time, Honey buries Jack in the sand with help from Luke, giving him a mermaid tail and a seashell bra. Trevor sits on his towel and watches the group, feigning nonchalance, but he’s really watching Honey.

Thomas doesn’t seem to plague her mind, but Trevor doesn’t really know. She’s giggling with the group and yelling at Cole to stop throwing sand near them, which Trevor takes as a good sign.

He guesses he’ll find out what she really thinks tomorrow. He can wait that long.

76:90 – HONEY

Honey had told herself that the two cocktails at dinner would be her last drinks of the night. The boys have a kind of routine on their beach days– they pack as many drinks as the cooler can fit and they crush them. Honey, Bea, and Trixie had done their best to keep up, and it had resulted in quite a buzz.

There had been time to come down, too– Honey left the beach around 3:30 because she’d gotten sleepy. She’d showered and taken a nap, then woken up before dinner to see Bea napping in bed next to her. The guys had been in the same state when she went into the living room. Luke was the only one awake and he was watching golf on low volume, his eyes glazed over. Honey thinks he might be so zoned out that he’s dead to the world.

After dinner, though, everyone had been reinvigorated. The boys had cracked open new beers and Trixie had produced a box of seltzers from her minifridge in the garage. She and Bea are party girls, as is Cece, so it must be a McLean thing. They’d been adamant that the group played a few drinking games before winding down for the night. 

They’d played Flip Cup first– dividing into two teams of four and pounding drinks up and down the length of Trixie’s dining table. Bea and Trixie had captained the teams and drafted their picks because the boys thought it was most fair. Bea’s first pick was, unsurprisingly, Quinn. Trixie had picked Jack. At first, Honey had thought it was because of his frat-boy energy.

The more drunk everyone got, the more Honey noticed that Jack and Trixie were flirting. By the time they moved onto Stack Cup, Jack and Trixie were standing next to each other and Trixie was shrieking each time Jack nearly lapped her. When he finally did and she’d had to chug the Bitch Cup, Trixie had pulled Bea’s signature pout.

Honey was not surprised when they disappeared into Trixie’s bedroom, presumably, less than an hour later. Neither was anyone else, apparently. Cole had snorted and said that Bea and Jack were two peas in a pod, since they both collected siblings like it was nothing. Everyone laughed at that, then they’d split into smaller groups. Cole and Trevor started playing Ride The Bus with a stack of cards they found in Trixie’s junk drawer, Quinn and Luke had settled on the couch to watch TV, and Honey and Bea took a girl’s trip to the bathroom.

Bea finds a fresh thing of moisturizer while she’s digging through Trixie’s bathroom cabinet and goes to smell it, catching a strong whiff of eucalyptus. She gags, stomach lurching… and pushes Honey out of the way while she’s pulling up her sweatpants so that she can vomit into the toilet.

Typical. 

Honey braids Bea’s hair back messily while she yacks, then helps pat her face with a cold towel when she’s done. They decide to go to bed, even though Bea says that she’s fine. Honey thinks she needs to rest after throwing up the many, many drinks she had today, so she and Bea throw on their pajamas– a fun matching nightgown set that they always bring on their trips outside of Litchton– and cuddle up in bed. Honey is glad she made Bea brush her teeth before they left the bathroom, even if their faces aren’t close enough for her to smell Bea’s breath.

“You didn’t talk to Trevor,” Bea mumbles. She’s got her arm thrown over her face, eyes buried in the crook of her elbow. “You said you would today.”

Honey gets a flashback to the previous morning– how Bea had been aghast and furious that Thomas was in the same town as them, how she’d been elated that Honey had called Thomas out and been mean to him at the store, and how she’d pretended like it took all of her energy to praise Trevor for reacting the way he did. Honey knows that Bea likes Trevor deep down, even if she treats him like an annoying brother.

Honey groans, shifting under the covers. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You have to talk to him,” Bea replies. Her voice is monotone and tired. “You promised you would. You know how he gets when he’s worried.”

She’s right, unfortunately. It takes a lot out of Honey to sit up, especially with the last of the booze that is coursing through her veins. She feels a bit like an old man, grunting through a stretch, but she finally swings her legs over the side of the bed and begins to make her way to the door.

It bangs open before she reaches for the handle.

“Bea!” Jack exclaims, shouldering into the bedroom in nothing but his sweatpants and underwear– Honey can see the Nike lettering peeking out from under the gray waistband slung low on his hips. “New PR!”

Bea’s arm falls from her face and she squints at Jack with one eye. “What?” she asks groggily.

“I beat my time!” Jack catches Honey’s wrist as she passes him and raises her hand to give himself a high-five.

Honey fails to hold back a laugh, producing a stifled snort. Just as Jack jumps onto the bed and crosses his legs, getting comfortable, Honey slips away.

She walks as quietly as she can past Trixie’s room, finding her way to the end of the hallway and slipping through the glass door to the balcony. It’s there that she finds Trixie in her bathrobe, looking up at the stars and twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

“Hey,” Honey greets quietly. “I heard Jack broke his record.”

Trixie chuckles. “Yeah, he told me. I think it’s cute how excited he was.”

“How long was it?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know, twenty minutes, maybe? From the time we got naked to the time it was over?” Trixie shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. He’s definitely good looking enough to get away with that.”

“One night stand?”

Trixie nods. “Definitely, one night stand. I’m not looking to do anything more than hook up with a guy who’s five years younger than me.” She drops her hand and slaps her knees. “Do you need the balcony?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to Trevor about something,” Honey says. “Do you remember Thomas?”

Trixie makes a face. There’s Honey’s confirmation that Cece and Bea did have a tell-all with Trix when Honey and Thomas broke up. “Yeah, I remember that dipshit. He should’ve gone to jail for what he did to you.”

“We saw him at the store yesterday,” Honey tells her. “Me and Trev.”

“Shit.” Trixie’s eyes are wide. “Are you okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Honey replies with a bit of a laugh. “I was mad when I saw him. Even after we left, I wasn’t upset. It was just like, ‘Oh, here’s the bitch that changed my life. I hope I never see him again after this’ and then I was fine.” She shrugs. “Bea and I talked about it. I’m not happy with what he did, obviously, but I’m past it.”

Trixie smiles and stands, bringing Honey in for a hug. “I’m happy for you.” She squeezes Honey tight, then lets her go, palms on Honey’s elbows. “You are such an impressive and resilient person.”

Honey doesn’t know quite what to say to Trixie. She thinks that if she opens her mouth to talk, her voice will break. That was so nice.

Trixie pats Honey’s arm one last time and heads toward the sliding glass door. “Goodnight, Hon. Have a good talk with Trevor.”

“Do you like him?” Honey blurts out as Trixie steps through the door. “For me?”

Trixie turns back and nods. “I do.” She slides the door shut and disappears down the hallway.

Honey smiles to herself, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. She shakes it away, pulling her phone out and texting Trevor to meet her on the balcony. She hopes he’s awake.

He sends her a “!!!!” within seconds and Honey hears his feet padding down the hallway a minute later. 

“Hey,” Trevor whispers as he closes the door behind him. He crosses the balcony and wraps his arms around Honey’s waist. He buries his face in Honey’s neck and kisses her, biting lightly over her pulse point. “I hated not being able to touch you all day. Y’looked so good in your pretty bikini, baby.”

Honey sighs and relaxes into Trevor’s touch, breathing in the traces of his cologne. It’s mostly worn off by now, but if she closes her eyes, she can still take it in. Honey wraps her arms around Trevor’s neck and holds him close.

Trevor is the first to pull away. “You okay?” he asks. “You seem… pretty okay, all things considered.”

“I am, actually,” Honey murmurs, bringing her hand to Trevor’s hair and stroking the strands along his temple. She can feel Trevor’s gaze on her face, never straying. “I think I’m really moving on. Not just fake-moving on like I’ve been doing for the past couple years.”

A smile creeps over Trevor’s face. “That’s awesome, babe.”

“I think you’ve been helping,” Honey admits quietly. “More than I wanted you to in the first place.”

“Yeah, baby, you hated me,” Trevor teases. He nudges Honey’s nose with his, then kisses her. “You didn’t think I’d be any good to you this summer.”

“That’s not true,” Honey fights back, frowning. “I thought it would be nice to have people to hang out with.”

“Hmm, I bet you meant the other guys,” Trevor continues in the same tone. He brings his hands to Honey’s hips and walks her back as he kisses her, only stopping when he’s got her pressed up against the wall. He starts to kiss down her neck, bringing his hands to her bare thighs and pushing at the hem of her nightgown.

“I gave you one week before you went back home,” Honey says. She raises a leg and tries to wrap it over Trevor’s hip. She slips at first, but then Trevor grips the fat of her thigh and holds her leg in place. 

“Well, I’m still here,” Trevor replies. His right hand slips between Honey’s legs and traces her folds before shifting her underwear to the side and diving in. “And you know I’m not leaving.”

“But you are, though,” Honey chokes out. She’s reeling from the way he just shoved two of his fingers into her cunt.

Trevor hums. “Okay, physically,” he says. “But I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I fail to see how that’s a good thing,” Honey jokes, but she’s lost the fighting edge in her voice. It’s so obvious that Trevor is affecting her, considering the way her breath has grown weary and how she’s biting her lower lip.

Trevor laughs anyway. “I can show you,” he says. 

He kisses Honey, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes drift all the way shut and she fists the neckline of his t-shirt. He tastes like the drinks that he’s been consuming all day, but with an overt layer of minty toothpaste. His lips are soft and Honey likes how he smiles between kisses.

“Is that a good enough reason?” Trevor asks softly, trailing his lips down to Honey’s jaw and sucking softly. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but she can feel his tongue massaging her skin and his teeth scraping over the area when he’s done.

“No, I already knew you were good at that,” Honey says. She feels a little stuck in her head, waiting for Trevor to do more.

His thumb presses against her clit and starts to circle. “I guess I have to up my game.” Trevor fits his teeth around Honey’s collarbone and nibbles. “You want me to talk about how pretty you are, baby?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Honey cards her fingers through Trevor’s hair and sighs.

He snuffles out another laugh. “You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Trevor tells Honey. 

“Thing?”

Trevor actually chuckles. “Not thing. You know that’s just a saying.” He adopts a southern accent. “Prettiest ‘thang’ I’ve ever seen.”

“You are so goofy.”

Trevor twists his fingers inside of Honey and makes her choke on a breath. “Don’t be mean, Hon. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” Honey bites.

“Attention seeker.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

“If I was mean, I’d stop fingering you and head back inside.”

Honey rolls her eyes. She grinds down on Trevor’s fingers and pulls him up for another kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor continues, jumping back into the bit. He noses against Honey’s cheek. “Honestly, Honey, you steal my breath. It’s unreal. I think about how pretty you are all the time.”

“Jerking off?” Honey gasps out. Her stomach is starting to turn from the pleasure.

“Mm.” Trevor smiles against her neck. “Sometimes. You turn me on, baby, but your looks aren’t the only thing I like about you. I’m determined to stay around for other reasons, you know.”

Honey hums, prompting him to continue. She is a bit of a glutton for praise– but who isn’t? She likes when people like her. She likes when Trevor likes her.

“Like how loyal you are to your friends,” Trevor says. “I couldn’t handle Bea for as long as you have, but you know that.”

“You handle Jack,” Honey points out. “That’s the same.”

“Fair point,” Trevor surmises. “I’m so… taken with how you act, babe.”

“Trevor,” Honey warns. She’s getting closer to the edge. His fingers are dancing inside of her, unrelenting, and his words aren’t helping. She still wants him to talk more, though.

“Do you know how proud I am that you stood your ground with Thomas at the store?” Trevor murmurs, moving his hand from Honey’s thigh to thumb over her nipple. 

“Oh my God,” Honey moans out when he pokes the spongy spot inside of her. She jumps, then whimpers, pulling his face back up so that she can bit his neck.

“It was amazing,” Trevor praises. “You’re so brave. I love how fiery you were when you saw him and how well you’ve bounced back from it over the past day and a half.”

Honey’s hips jerk into his touch. Her mouth drops open and eyes roll back. She knocks her head against the wall, but the sting doesn’t actually hurt. She barely feels it. Honey snaps, her resolve crumbling as Trevor’s fingers thrust into her at what feels like lightning speed. Her hands clutch at Trevor’s bicep and the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving red crescent-moons behind. “I love you,” Honey whines. She’s praising Trevor and his unique ability to give her everything she’s craved in a partner, especially since Thomas destroyed her confidence the way he did. 

Trevor’s hips roll against Honey’s hip like they’re controlled by an external force. His fingers continue to fill her just right. He draws his lip into his mouth and his stunning, shining eyes lock in on her expression. “I love you,” he repeats, natural and easy like nothing else.

Flickers of recognition pass through his pupils. “Oh, fuck, I love you,” he repeats again, conscious and strangled and desperate and true.

Honey melts into his gasp, her chest heaving with a sob as her climax rearranges the atoms in her eyesight. Honey’s admission, which is slowly dawning on her, has taken all the tension from her body and sent it out into the universe like a flood.

Trevor’s trying to kiss her again.

Honey gulps and wiggles away from him.

Trevor doesn’t seem to notice how she’s inching towards the sliding door. His hands slip off of her hips for one second and Honey is gone.

That was not supposed to happen. The whole “I love you” thing was supposed to be a nonissue. That’s what she told herself when she thought it– and now that she’s said it… Honey’s head cannot stop racing with thoughts.

You know what? Maybe Trevor didn’t hear her.

Okay, that’s stupid. He replied. Twice. 

Maybe he didn’t realize it either.

No, that’s why he repeated it. 

This is terrible. This should’ve happened a year from now over some stupid, sentimental, and dry candlelit dinner that Trevor tried to cook in his California apartment. This should’ve happened while Honey was trying to stomach the food without being mean and make sure that the candles didn’t light the flowers on fire, and she would’ve distracted him by telling him that she loves him.

Honey hasn’t thought about this at all. It– ugh– it was a dream she had a few nights ago. It should be noted that she woke with a start, sitting up, and nearly had a heart attack when Trevor’s arm had tightened around her waist to keep her in place.

She bursts through her bedroom door, interrupting Jack and Bea’s conversation. Honey slams the door shut behind her and plasters herself to the cool wood. She can hold the door shut if Trevor tries to barge in.

Bea blinks at Honey. “You okay?”

“I told him I love him,” Honey announces. She fumbles for the doorhandle and turns the lock.

“I thought you were going to talk to him about Thomas,” Bea says incredulously.

“Yeah, I was, but then we started…” Honey tilts her head and makes a high-pitched humming noise in the back of her throat as an insinuation, then opens her mouth again. “And it just slipped out.”

“During?” Bea demands. “During?”

“Yes, during!” 

“I’m sorry,” Jack cuts in, sitting forward on the bed. “I’m lost. Who are we talking about?”

“Trevor!” Honey and Bea exclaim at the same time, both rounding on Jack in identical fashion. 

He flinches back and holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, sorry, I didn’t know.” It takes a moment, but their shared word registers. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re in love with Trevor?”

“What are you going to do?” Bea asks, waving a hand at Jack to silence him. 

“Hide out in here for the rest of the weekend, probably,” Honey answers. She might’ve reached a pitch that only dogs can hear, but Bea and Jack seem to be faring well enough.

“Okay, not to interrupt again, but you know Trevor’s been fucking random girls all summer, right?” Jack continues.

“Oh my God, no, he hasn’t,” Honey says. The jig is up now and she doesn’t have time for Jack’s well-meaning warnings and confused comments. She has bigger problems.

“Yes, he has,” Jack insists. “He’s on Raya, dude. We’ve been talking about it for weeks. He’s very open about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bea scoffs. She faces Jack and puts her hand on his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes. “Jack, I love you dearly–”

Honey groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Sorry, Hon, I didn’t mean to trigger you.” Bea raises half of a hand-heart for Honey. “But, J, Trevor and Honey have been fucking for months. The Raya hookups were a cover.”

“What?” Jack looks at Honey, mouth open in surprise. He turns back to Bea. “And you knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course I didn’t tell you, no one knows!”

“What about Quinn?” Jack asks.

Bea relents. “Okay, Quinn knows. But Luke and Cole don’t know, so you have to shut up about it.”

Jack’s face turns from offended to slack and pale. “Oh, I’m not good at keeping secrets,” he says. Honey knows that– he’s said it before.

“I’ll give you two hundred dollars to keep your mouth shut,” Bea bargains.

Jack purses his lips. “Well, now, that’s an interesting point,” he muses. 

“Hey, hi,” Honey urges, waving her hand at the duo on the bed. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

“Honey, I wouldn’t, like, call it a problem, necessarily?” Bea says, but she’s stammering a little when she says it.

Honey scoffs and widens her eyes, feeling like she’s going crazy. “You haven’t said it back to Quinn!”

“You haven’t said it back to Quinn?” Jack demands. He covers his face with his hands. “Oh my God, I should’ve just gone to bed after hooking up with Trixie. This is so much drama.”

“It’s not drama!” Bea exclaims. “Did Trevor say it back?”

“Yes!” Honey reveals, shrugging. She raises a hand and gestures into the air. “So what?”

“So what?” Bea repeats. “You have nothing to worry about. He said he loves you, you said you love him.”

“Other way around,” Honey corrects.

Bea stares at Honey for a beat, then starts to laugh. “Semantics! Dude, who cares? You’re in love! I bet he’s on the other side of the door, waiting for you to let him in so he can say it again.”

“I am, actually,” comes Trevor’s muffled voice. Honey feels one of his fingers poke her heel from the crack under the door. “Can you let me in?”

Honey resists the urge to stomp on his finger. She groans, tilting her head back and crumpling her face. She doesn’t want to face Trevor right now, for two reasons. One: she’s not over saying “I love you.” and two, it’s embarrassing. She ran away from him. She whines, slightly annoyed with herself, as she turns to the door and unlocks it. She turns the handle and Trevor crashes into the room in a similar manner as Honey did.

He kicks the door shut and brings his palms to Honey’s jaw, cradling her face in his hands. He kisses her hard. He stays there, then pulls away.

“Jack’s here,” Honey says.

“Hi, Z,” Jack supplies. 

“I don’t care,” Trevor tells Honey. He lays kiss after kiss against her lips. He speaks between pecks. “I love you.” Peck. “Don’t run away.” Peck. “You said what I was getting ready to say, baby.” Peck. “I’m so glad you feel the same. I love you.”

Honey hums against his lips. “I love you, too,” she mumbles quietly. “I just–”

“Let me enjoy this for a second,” Trevor says, stopping her short. “Fuck, you make me happy.”

Honey relaxes with a little whimper, feeling a little wounded by how lovely he is. He’s so nice to her, even as wishy-washy as she’s been. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, even if he’s physically leaving at the end of the summer, and Honey is the one who’s constantly changing things up on Trevor. Ugh, how annoying. 

Jack hoots from the bed, interrupting their moment. Bea, at least, had the decency to stay silent with a big grin on her face.

Trevor pulls away from Honey and glares at Jack. “Dude, get out.”

“You should be thanking me, bro,” Jack says as he stands from the bed. “I’m the one who told Honey that you like her in the first place.”

“Not to be like that, either,” Bea jumps in. “But this is technically my bedroom, and I’m a little sleepy, so I think you guys might have to wrap it up. You can consummate your love when we get back to Litchton, if that’s okay with you.”

“Well, it’s not okay with me.” Trevor rolls his eyes. His hands are still on Honey, but resting on her waist instead of cupping her cheeks. “This is kind of a big deal for us.”

“And I so get that, Trev,” Bea continues, inflecting her voice like Alexis from Schitt’s Creek. “But, also, I’m not leaving so you can have sex in the bed that I’m sleeping in after you’re done. That’s like, not…”

Honey dips her forehead and laughs. She pats Trevor’s chest and pushes him back towards the door. “It’s okay, Trev. It’s late.”

Trevor holds onto her hand and brings it to his lips, pouting. Jack catches Trevor’s shirt and tugs him towards the door.

Honey can barely contain a coy smile. “I love you,” she mouths as Jack drags him away. She brings a hand to her mouth and blows a kiss in his direction.

Trevor smiles as wide as Honey has ever seen and allows himself to be pulled from the room, barely catching the handle and closing the door behind him.

Bea jumps from the bed onto Honey’s back and screeches in her ear. She hugs Honey in a partial headlock, arms locked on Honey until she can’t breathe.

“Okay, get off of me,” Honey chokes out, slamming Bea into the mattress. 

“This is so exciting,” Bea squeals. She hits Honey’s shoulder with each word. “Honey! This is so wonderful!”

“Can we just go to bed?” Honey asks, feeling her skin crawl a bit. Yes, everything is fine on paper, but another shoe has got to be on the precipice of dropping. 

“Yes, but I’m cuddling you all night to celebrate,” Bea agrees. She grabs Honey’s shoulders and shakes her until Honey feels like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “Honey!”

“Shut up,” Honey groans. She buries herself under the covers, pulling the sheets over her head and disappearing into a lump.

“Are you so excited at least?” Bea aks, wrapping her arms around Honey’s middle and pressing her cheek into Honey’s back. 

Honey smiles into the pillow. “It’s exciting,” she admits.

Bea squeals again and squeezes Honey’s waist like a belt that’s too tight.

“Alright, that’s enough, stop it with the Heimlich,” Honey scolds, pinching Bea’s forearm. Her grip slackens after a moment. “You already threw up tonight, I don’t want to either.”

“Do you think you’re going to?”

Honey’s not sure. It is a little nauseating to have said what she said to Trevor, even if he received it well. She said it back again and she wants to keep saying it back, but it’s still weird. She’ll either throw up from being excited or from being so surprised that she told Trevor how she feels.

She buries her face in the pillow and screams.

77:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has been riding on a high since last night. He’d been hesitant to tell Honey how he felt, how he loved her, but after running into Thomas and seeing how she’d handled that so well, Trevor had thought that there was no better time than the present.

He’d been trying to build up to it. He was praising the girl and trying to fill her head with a bunch of pretty– and genuine– compliments so that she didn’t freak out when he uttered those three words.

She’d said it first. Honey had beat him to the punch by about one second, which surprised Trevor. Her statement hadn’t really computed in his brain until after he’d said his piece, which is when he’d felt so surprised that all he could do was repeat himself. 

It wasn’t surprising that Honey bolted after the fact. She’d been in an abject state of denial after calling Trevor her boyfriend by mistake the week prior, so it made sense that she was surprised and confused and frustrated with herself when she’d accidentally said “I love you.” Trevor knows Honey well enough to assume that she hadn’t meant to tell him that. He’d bet money on it.

It feels like a quick turnaround on paper, Trevor thinks. He’s never actually said “I love you” to anyone other than his family members and his closest friends, so he doesn’t know what the “right” time is. He’s known Honey for two and a half months now, but like she always says, mountain time passes differently. It feels more like he’s known her for five or six months. Quite frankly, Trevor has had feelings for Honey since he saw her outside of the grocery store on his first day in Litchton. He’s liked her since then and he can’t really pinpoint the moment that his admiration for Honey evolved into love, but it happened, and now they’re here. 

They’re one step closer to telling everyone, too. Jack knows, which isn’t ideal since everyone knows that the boy can’t keep a secret, but Trevor’s okay with that. Sure, he threatened Jack and made sure he wasn’t going to tell Cole or Luke, but he only did that to protect what Honey wants. She might be in love with Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for everyone to know.

Which is why Trevor is managing to contain himself during their last trip to the beach this morning. Bea is skipping church because she’s on vacation, so everyone is together under the ocean sun for the last time this summer. 

Honey looks practically edible in her red swimsuit. She reminds him of the classic Baywatch, the original series that Trevor would sometimes catch replays of when he was young. Yasmine Bleeth might’ve been Trevor’s first awakening, the one who made him realize that girls are pretty. Honey is yet another reminder and Trevor is having trouble keeping his eyes away from her.

She’s standing at the edge of the water with Cole. Occasionally, one of them will pick up a rock or a shell and skip it against the waves. One of Cole’s shells hits Luke, who is bobbing in the waves and tossing a football with Jack. Honey laughs with her whole body, bending at the waist.

“Eyes off, Trevor,” Bea murmurs, reaching out to slap at Trevor’s arm. 

She’s lying next to him on her towel, back bared to the sky. The tie behind her back is undone to prevent an uneven tan, but Trevor thinks she has bigger problems to worry about. Quinn’s head is resting on the small of her back and his arm is wrapped around her body, palm flat on her hip. Talk about an uneven tan, Trevor thinks.

“Why?” he questions. “It’s not like anyone up here doesn’t know about it.”

Bea groans. “Because you’re being obvious. I know that you’re in love, or whatever, but Luke and Cole don’t know anything.”

“She looks hot,” Trevor argues. “Maybe I’m just ogling her because she’s sexy. Cole and Luke can’t argue with that.”

“Do you really want Cole and Luke to ask you why you’re looking at Honey like that?” Bea points out. “You’ll have to tell them she’s hot and then they’ll look at Honey like she’s hot.”

“And they’d be right to think that,” Trixie adds in a disinterested voice. She’s preoccupied with the stack of papers in one hand and the legal pad balanced on her knee. She waves her hair out of her face and looks at Trevor, tilting her head down to that she can meet his eyes above the rims of her sunglasses. “You’re lucky that she decided to date you.”

“I know,” Trevor replies, feeling like he has to defend himself against the sisters. He doesn’t take advantage of being Honey’s boyfriend, nor does he take her for granted. He knows that their relationship is still pretty fragile and new, even if they love each other. 

Bea hums, squinting at him. She seems to decide to take his word for it, because she changes the subject. “I gave Jack $200 to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible,” Quinn mumbles. He picks his head up and turns to face the back of Bea’s head. “You don’t have to pay Jack to keep their secret.”

Bea shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’d rather pay him to stay silent than just have blind faith in him.”

Quinn snorts and kisses down Bea’s spine. “I think the world is lucky that you’re not in a position of power,” he comments. “If you’re so willing to resort to bribery.”

“What has Ada been teaching you at that store, Bea?” Trixie jumps in. “I hope you’re not bribing customers or your suppliers. I’d get so fired for bribing people.”

“We’re not allowed to bribe people either,” Quinn adds. “Although I bet Z would if he could. Anaheim sucks.”

“I would not,” Trevor refutes. He’s still fighting with the group and defending himself. They start laughing like it’s all some big joke, but his feathers are still ruffled. Trevor huffs and turns away from them, looking back at Honey and Cole. 

Cole has Honey thrown over his shoulder and he’s marching into the waves. She’s shrieking and Cole stumbles over the sandbar and sends them both tumbling into the waves. Honey surfaces with a sputter and pushes Cole into a wave, jumping onto him and holding him underwater. Luke and Jack get involved not long after.

The rest of the day passes far faster than Trevor would like. They eat cold cut sandwiches as a group for lunch. Jack gets far too sunburnt, despite Honey and Bea’s better efforts to convince him to wear sunscreen. He claimed he didn’t need it since he tans well, but his pink skin is proof that he doesn’t tan as well as he thinks he does.

In the afternoon, Trixie runs up to the house and gets a volleyball. They play beach volleyball without a net, instead drawing a line in the sand that marks the barriers of the game. They don’t keep track of who’s winning or who’s on what team. The game isn’t serious and there’s a boatload of cheating– Bea pushes Luke over while his head it turned towards the sky, despite being on the same team, and they all laugh about it. Jack puts Honey on his shoulders so she can block a hit from Trixie. The ball ends up hitting her straight in the chest and knocks the wind out of her. When they finally head up to the house in the early evening, Honey’s still got an imprint of the ball on her skin. She calls it her battle scar and compares it to the mark on Quinn’s cheek. Quinn tells Honey that hers will fade.

For dinner, they eat the burgers that Trevor had bought when they ran into Thomas. Trixie whips up a salad to go with the meal and they all eat at her dining room table.

After dinner, they pack and divide into cars. Honey, Bea, and Quinn take Quinn’s rental car back. Trevor, Jack, Luke, and Cole are relegated to the other car. They speed home, losing Quinn’s car within the second hour, once they pass Raleigh. Cole falls asleep halfway through the drive and doesn’t wake up until they get back to Litchton. 

One of Honey’s favorite songs starts to play from Trevor’s liked songs as they turn onto the main road. He closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest. Jack has the windows rolled down and the air smells clearer up here. 

Trevor can’t imagine driving down this mountain in two weeks, knowing that he won’t be back until next year.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x Fem Reader

Regency au part 3

Promenade

Note: part three is finally done! so sorry for the delay, writers block mixed with seasonal depression hit me hard. most of the set up is done so hopefully I can get a bit quicker on getting these parts done. this part is very long so be warned and of course enjoy -Chrystal

The morning was filled with non stop chatter about the news. You were now the diamond of the season not only that but you were also the first Mobian to be named the diamond. Something as big as that surely could not be ignored.

Somehow you had managed to charm the queen and land in her good graces. You were grateful for her majesties kindness but were very confused, you had only briefly spoken to the queen and while it was an engaging conversation she did not convey that you had impressed her enough to be rewarded for this honor.

Regardless of how her decision was made you could not complain about how this would certainly help you find a husband by the end of the season.

However a new problem had presented itself. Dozens of gentlemen had come to call on you hoping to secure you as their wife. Many of which were only interested in your new status and not your interests, your wants or your desires in life. They rambled on and on about their accomplishments and how great their families were, never bothering to ask your opinions on the matter.

During visiting hours you a single question lingered in the back of your mind, would Shadow come to visit you?

He hadn't stated his intentions to marry nor did you want to court him but he said he was going to try speaking to you more, surely a friendly visit wouldn't hurt, especially after how quickly you had fled the ball last night, wouldn't he want answers?

You waited patiently for any sign of him to no avail. It was only after the last gentlemen had departed that you received a bouquet of pale red carnations.

Carnations had been one of your favorite flowers as a child, the way the petals folded in and out of each other like draped silk. The white and red intertwined reminding you of simpler times when anything felt possible and you never thought about suitors or forgotten friendships, it was just you, Shadow, and Maria against the world.

The card attached read "I look forward to our next meeting my dearest friend. - Viscount Shadow Robotnik"

So he did remember your address.

You read the small card over and over expecting there to be more to it. One sentence, that's all? And yet that one sentence clung to your mind.

You couldn't help but feel conflicted. For the first time you had received a response from Shadow the only thing that you had wanted since Maria's passing, and yet the eight years it took for it to get to you made the gesture taste quite bitter.

For the first eleven years of your life you had known Shadow like the back of your hand but now, he was a complete mystery to you. Question after question kept spinning in your mind and you were growing quite sick of it. You needed answers, luckily you were going to the perfect place to gather information.

💎

Madame Rouge was the best modiste in the kingdom, known for her expertise in all the latest fashions and her exquisite taste in jewelry. All the women of the ton relied on her to make them beautiful, and in turn they would reward her greatly making her one of the richest business owners in the land.

Her riches did not stop at monetary ones, working with every lady in the ton she had amassed quite the collection of secrets. She knew everything about everyone including you. Something about her presence made people comfortable enough to speak about whatever was on their minds, even the the things they didn't want others to know.

If there was a place to find out any information on Shadow, this was where you needed to be. The only problem now was how to bring the topic of him up without making it seem as if you had affections for him.

Luckily Rouge solved that problem for you.

"So I heard about your little dance with a mysterious Viscount last night, tell me about it."

"well I'm not sure there is much to discuss." You were trying to play your cards right if Rouge knew you were looking for information she would assume you had fallen for him. Which you hadn't, you swear.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's all anyone can talk about today. Rumor has it you were childhood friends, is it true?"

"Yes, but it was a long time ago. We haven't spoken since we were children. Last night was the first time I've seen him in eight almost nine years."

"ah so you were reunited last night, how did that feel seeing him after all this time? Absolutely smitten I'd bet."

Oh no, she was digging for gossip. you've seen her do this dozens of times, she was good and she could get the truth out of anyone.

"Oh, no it's nothing like that I was just-"

"Ah ah ah no point in lying to me , I can see it in your eyes, they sparkle with that first love glow. speaking of sparkle, this silver lace overlay would look fantastic with this silk what do you think?"

You looked in the mirror the combination of the fabrics draped across your shoulder. Madame Rouge truly was an artist, the color complimented you perfectly, giving you an almost ethereal glow. you didn't know it was possible for you to look that way. was that really you?

"Wow." you stood there in awe of yourself. "I look..."

"Like a Diamond." Rouge finished your sentence for you. " I Never congratulated you on your status. How does it feel?"

"I almost don't believe it. I mean there are so many other ladies of the ton whom I feel are much more refined than me and deserving of the title."

"Well I happen to be an expert on fine jewels and I always find a diamond is much more than it's cut, a true diamond shines it's light not only on itself but on the other jewels surrounding it. You are brilliant and I know exactly how to make you shine. you just focus on reflecting that light. Know your worth miss Y/N it will guide you to the right place."

Rouge's words were reassuring, You supposed that was why she was the best. She knew how to not only make ladies look beautiful but feel beautiful as well.

"I cannot give you the answers you are looking for, only the viscount can." Rouge added.

How had she figured it out? You hadn't even spoken his name since you've been here.

"You'd be amazed at the things a modiste can pick up my dear. unfortunately I cannot be of help in your investigation. But I will say, He will be quite enamored when he sees you in this dress."

Your cheeks heated at the thought, the strange fluttering returning once again, the heat and excitement of the day must have left you feeling ill, hopefully you could recuperate at tea time.

Rouge took your order and you and your mamma were off on your way. the madame gave you a look you couldn't quite place as you left, but you could tell that she knew more than she was saying, and that your conversation wasn't over.

💎

The sweet aroma of roses wafted throughout the conservatory as the sun beamed through the glass giving the room a soft glow. The table was set with the most delicious assortment of finger sandwiches, biscuits, and small cakes; a setup to which the Rose household was known for.

"I am just delighted that you were named this season's Dimond, of all my friend's you are by far the most eligible for the title." Amy poured you a cup of tea to your liking before serving it to you.

"That is too kind of you to say, but if I'm being perfectly honest I would have thought that you would be given the title far before I would have."

"I'm sure if I was offered the title I would have refused it, It would only complicate my plans for this season."

"I Presume your dance with the Duke went well then?"

"More than just well. It was practically perfect."

"Has he called on you then?"

"No, He has not. However I hope to run into him while we are on promenade after tea. How about your mysterious viscount? You left quite hastily last night we didn't get the chance to say our goodbyes or talk even talk about him."

"Yes, my sincerest apologies I was feeling faint from the events of the ball. As for the viscount, I feel conflicted on one hand he is my closest childhood friend but with so many years of silence between us I fear he may have changed completely. I do not know the man he has become, and any attempts I've made to find out thus far have been in vain."

"would the answer persuade you on weather or not to pursue him as a suitor?"

"I would not consider him a suitor of any kind, regardless of the answer."

Amy paused for a moment taking a sip from her tea. this was common when she needed a moment to ponder her next words, choosing carefully what to say as to not offend her company.

"Dearest Y/N, if the answer does not affect your feelings on him then why search for answers at all?"

You weren't sure how to answer. You had thought you had put him in the past with the rest of your childhood. But the moment you saw him again you couldn't seem to shake him from your mind. perhaps it was all the unanswered questions, or the childhood memories breaking free from the cage you had locked them in.

When you saw him you felt the hole that had been left in your heart in his absence that you had tried and failed to fill. You felt the pain of all those years that you had grown numb to suddenly strike you like a knife once again tearing you apart. You felt angry that he had appeared so easily, and scared that he would disappear just as swiftly.

and despite all of the negative emotions a fraction of hope you couldn't ignore cut through all of them. The hope that maybe things were different now, that he could come back to you, Hope that the one thing you had wanted since Maria's passing was here and that your wounds may finally begin to heal.

you knew hope was fleeting, and answers were the only way to ensure that your hope was justified, that he wouldn't disappear on you again. he said he wanted to do better for you but how were you to know weather or not his word was good without truly knowing the man he had become?

To suddenly see the boy you once knew like the back of your hand re-appear as a complete stranger, not knowing anything about his adult life, or even what kind of a person he is anymore. what were you to make of that?

Before you could begin to answer Amy's query Her ladies maid interrupted inadvertently saving you from explaining your issue further. handing Amy a news pamphlet.

"Miss Rose the articles you requested have arrived"

"Thank you Pearl."

"News articles? What is this about?" you asked hoping to redirect the conversation.

"Oh nothing much really, I've been following the story of a masked vigilante they have been calling The Black Thorn. Have you heard of him?"

"I can't say I have. with all the preparation I had to do for this season I hardly had any time for independent reading."

"Well they say he showed up mysteriously some months ago and no one knows who he is behind the mask. They say he moves so swiftly that hardly anyone knows when he's coming or going. the only proof he ever leaves behind are the criminals he defeats usually knocked out cold."

"I thought your father forbid you from reading articles like that."

"You know I can't resist a good hero story. Promise me you wont tell him?"

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

Amy smiled at you

"So does that mean the Duke has some competition this year?" you teased.

"I don't think anyone could pull my attention from the duke."

"Well that is too bad, I hear gentlemen can be swayed to a proposal when threatened by a rival."

"I may need to keep that in mind for later" Amy Giggled "Now finish your tea, I want to read your leaves."

You smiled at your friend yielding to her request as you enjoyed the beautiful spring afternoon.

💎

Of all the activities of the social season the promenade was by far your favorite. being outside in nature always helped clear your head and you desperately needed to clear your head after the events of the past day.

You walked side by side with Amy admiring the beauty of the public garden together, your ladies maids' trailing behind you.

"I still can't believe you won't tell me my fortune. what is the point in you reading it if I am not allowed to know?" You fussed

"Perhaps you knowing may affect the outcome, I'll never tell" Amy teased

"Well I would hope you would tell me should my fate be disastrous"

"I promise if you were in danger I would inform you swiftly to help avoid such fates."

you giggled "I appreciate that, now please tell me my fortune"

Amy smiled at you. "No, you shall soon find out for yourself I promise."

"And will I be pleased?"

"I'd rather think so" she giggled before turning her attention to her surroundings.

Amy's eyes scanned the garden searching for someone, far too distracted to engage in anymore meaningful conversation which you were grateful for. You enjoyed your friend's presence however you needed respite from all that was plaguing your mind.

You took a deep breath allowing the crisp spring air fill your lungs. you focused only on your senses the smell of the grass, the sound of the water flowing in the pond.

you needed this, to focus on the present moment, to feel nature surround you. The problems of society could wait for the time being the diamond needed her rest.

Unfortunately your rest would prove to be quite brief as the Duke of green hill quickly approached you and miss Rose.

"Good day ladies, have the two of you been enjoying your walk?" He asked.

"It has been quite wonderful your grace, thank you for asking." Amy replied

"Miss L/N would you offer me the kindness of allowing me to escort your friend through the rest of the garden?"

"Of course my lord, should she agree."

"I would be delighted to join you but I would feel awful leaving my dear friend on her own"

"Do not worry about me I'm sure my mamma is around here somewhere she can escort me the rest of the way."

"I may have another solution please excuse me for a moment ladies" the Duke excused himself leaving you and Amy alone once again.

"What are you doing? I thought you were looking to spend time with the duke."

"I do but I don't want to leave you alone either, I mean what kind of a friend would that make me?"

"The kind who wants to be married."

"Y/N, I know the social season can often make enemies of friends, I refuse to let that fate befall us."

"You know just as well as I that is only in the case of two ladies catching the affections of the same gentleman. I do not want the duke so what else is it?"

Amy paused giving you a look you couldn't quite discern.

"Does this have anything to do with my fortune?"

"I am so sorry but I feared if I told you you wouldn't want to come and I knew it was important."

before you could fully comprehend what she was saying the duke returned with Shadow in tow.

"Here we are ladies, Viscount Robotnik has agreed to escort miss L/N through the rest of the garden"

"Only if you'd allow me of course." Shadow elaborated

You shared a glance with Amy her eyes begging you to agree to the arrangement. you would certainly have words with her later on but for now you smiled politely.

"It would be an honor my lord" You responded

"It is settled then, Me and miss Rose will be on our way. Viscount, Miss L/N I hope to see both of you at the symphony tomorrow night. Enjoy your walk."

You bowed as you watched Amy and the duke wonder in their separate direction.

"Shall we?" Shadow looked at you his gaze growing softer

"I suppose we shall."

💎

You and Shadow walked side by side hardly a word being uttered between the two of you for the first few minuets. neither of you knowing where to start. how on earth did the two of you end up like this? So distant, so unfamiliar with one another to the point of being unable to even begin a conversation.

What would Maria think? knowing that her best friend's; her brother, and you were estranged. She must be disappointed, or worse hurt by the fate that befell her friend's in her absence.

You couldn't allow the distance and the years gone by to keep you from the now. You had him back and you weren't going to let him slip away again so easily.

"I was quite surprised to receive your bouquet this morning." you started.

"I felt you needed some token of apology for not calling upon you this morning, Carnations are still your favorite correct?"

"Yes they are, I will say I'm surprised you remembered."

"How could I forget? you were always picking them, requesting your governess to place them in your hair. if I recall correctly you asked your father for a tiara made of them did you not?"

you smiled at the memory resurfacing in your head "Yes, oh I was devastated when he told me it wasn't possible to find someone who could make one for me."

"Maria and I spent the whole day with you in that flower field trying to cheer you up."

"I had so many flowers my father was worried we would cause a floral shortage. And you were covered in petals for days after that."

"well I can assure you that I am completely free of any petals these days"

you smiled at him the Shadow of your childhood peeking out from behind his exterior.

"I must say I am not quite used to seeing you like this, all grown up and so refined."

"I could say the same for you, although I am not surprised to see you become the diamond of your first season, you always had a graceful demeanor even as a child."

"so you have seen the news."

"Yes but I assure you it has no affect on our friendship."

you didn't quite know why but hearing him say that disappointed you. It wasn't as if he was courting you anyway but for some reason you felt a small tug in your chest.

"well, that is good to hear I suppose."

you looked forward fearing your eyes would give away your inner thoughts.

the awkward silence returned once again. It was Shadow's turn to break it.

"I hear you're an excellent rider."

"what?"

"Of horses, I recall you wanting to learn as a girl, I am pleased hear that you learned."

"Oh, yes it took a while but I eventually convinced my father to give me lessons, as it turns out I have a knack for it."

Shadow paused for a moment carefully choosing his next words.

"May I ask you something Miss L/N?"

"I suppose"

"Why did you choose this season to come out? you are only nineteen surely you could have waited a year or two before joining the marriage mart. Didn't you want to see more of the world before settling down."

"What ever do you mean by that."

"Maria and you would always talk about all the adventures the two of you would go on. all the different places you'd see and the people you would meet. it surprises me that you would choose to stay put after speaking of adventure so passionately."

"Yes, but that was before we knew our limitations."

"Your limitations?"

"Women cannot travel on their own Your Grace, not without causing themselves serious scandal"

"What about your studies then? do you not wish to continue?"

"Why are you so concerned about my coming out?"

"Because it doesn't make any sense."

"How do you know what choices make sense for me and what don't. We are practically strangers because of you and your lack of action, my choices are none of your concern." you snapped your frustrations finally boiling to the surface.

"I am worried about you."

"Worried about me? Why would you worry about me after ignoring me for eight years. I didn't even know you were back in town until last night, how long have you been back anyway?"

Shadow grew quiet not wanting to meet your eyes out of shame.

"Three months."

You were in shock, how could he be back for so long and how had no one noticed? knowing he was so close this whole time made his silence sting even worse.

"Three months? And you never bothered to send any correspondence not even a note."

"I feared you did not wish to see me."

"I always wished to see you." tears formed in the corners of your eyes. "How could you say that, after all those years of writing you. How could you possibly come to that conclusion? Did you even read my letter's?"

"Y/N I-"

"No! it is clear to me now that you wish to be strangers, and this rekindling of friendship is all a ruse to ease whatever guilty conscious you may have and I am in no interest of participating."

you stormed away fighting the urge to cry. public tears were sure to spark some kind of scandal one which you couldn't afford not with all eyes currently on you.

"Y/N please" Shadow called from behind you

you kept walking your heart breaking with each step you took.

"Y/N don't walk away please stay."

"Why?"

Shadow catching up to you, grabbed you by the hand and turned you to face him his eyes betraying his stoic demeanor. he reached into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper.

"take this please"

reluctantly you obeyed, opening it you read.

Dear Y/N,

Hello, I am sorry it has been so long, i have been busy with school. I miss you with each passing day. my teacher keeps a flower pot on his desk it's a carnashion carnation. everytime i see it I think of you.

I hope this letter reaches you before your twelvth 12th birthday. mother always told me that it is rude to make people wait for a birthday gift.

I wish Maria and I could be there with you

I wish I could help you celebrate

I wish

that's where the letter ended. So he did try to write you.

"Every time I tried to start it always ended like this." He spoke. "I know now my absence has been painful to you, more painful than I anticipated. I am not asking for your forgiveness only a second chance. please I cannot lose you."

he seemed earnest, steeling yourself you prepared your answer.

"If we continue you need to make a promise to me."

"Anything."

"You have to be completely honest with me and answer every question no matter how sad it makes you, or how negatively you may think I'll react."

"I promise."

"And another thing, you must meet with me every Wednesday from now on to promenade, if you truly want this friendship I wish for commitment you must speak with me in person at least once a week. Do you accept these terms?"

Shadow took your hands in his and looked you in the eyes. he looked beyond your face and stared into your soul.

"With all my heart." he stated, the warmth in his voice seeming more like a vow than a promise.

the flutter once again returned to your chest feeling more welcome than it was before.

"Good." you stated "Then let's get started."

Shadow smiled at you in a way you couldn't help but return. all the tension from the day melted away you were on the path to get your answers and you finally had your friend back.

[demphen]

i saw this and it piqued my interest so i went and found the script linked in the post! for anyone who's curious. here's some notes from what i read (sorry if i repeat some stuff from the reddit comment):

the main cast of victims (erin, morgan, kemper, pepper, and andy) are all aged down somewhat to be 17-18 year olds.

morgan and erin are siblings, similar to sally and franklin in the og film.

pepper and andy are so much more horny??? it's actually ridiculous

the killer family are a mix of sawyers and hewitts it seems? thomas is the only one referred to as a hewitt iirc, but also called bubba? henrietta and jedidiah are explicitly called sawyers

thomas is more similar to bubba here, lots of screaming and wailing and covering his ears

drayton is here, also a sawyer, but takes the role of "grandpa" (wheelchair and all). similar finger-sucking and Trying To Kill the Final Girl scenes. not as corpse-like, however.

no luda mae :(

the hitchhiker is named jane and also part of the family. she and henrietta are hoyt's daughters, and jedidiah is his son. no mention of a mother from what i can remember

lots of going back and forth to the house. it seems like we would've seen way more of it if this made the final cut.

the tea lady is present, and referred to as "kathryn" (which surprised me! i always referred to her as kathy, as that's her actress' name, but i will be adopting kathryn from now on)

erin and her friends start the movie by heading TO mexico rather than FROM. morgan is much more annoying here, and he wants to sell (?) weed in mexico.

the group has more of a reason to stay in fuller because their van runs outta gas and they literally cannot leave.

as @/slasherdungeon said, there's more room for a sequel here as erin never actually gets away and is implied to be killed at the end.

i think that's everything!

Cut Scenes from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2003

This is so interesting.. and if it had ended that way, it would have created much more space for a sequel. I’m reading through the script right now.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Me: *fucking around at camp, talking to everyone because I'm bored*

Withers out of nowhere: