#I could talk about these dudes for hours y'all

[dee-snut]

Do you ever think about how miserable teen Eden was before leaving town. How much he must've spiraled until ultimately running away..

[lowkeyremi]

JJK CHARACTERS AND THEIR ICKS

basically things they do that make you upset. this is a joke so please do not attack me. y'all already know i never miss a chance to slander gojo!!! credit to my sweet mutual lene (@satorisoup) for giving me this idea!!! GO READ HER'S (if you're into haikyuu)

Gojo

PLEASE. He 100% leaves his clothes on the floor and it really grates your nerve when the hamper is RIGHT THERE!!! and he just leaves them right in front of it. It's so embarrassing when you have guests over and they just pull a dirty sock from between the couch cushions.

Yuji

I love him but I just KNOW he leaves toothpaste in the sink. It's like he doesn't understand the concept of rinsing the sink out after you brush your teeth. You'll finally be making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and there's dried spit and toothpaste in the sink.

Megumi

Always. talks. back. It does not matter he always has something to say. "Well you could have just taken out the trash like I asked you to." and he'll say something snarky like, "Maybe if you weren't so soft spoken I would have heard you." BOY SHUT UP BEFORE YOU GET SLAPPED.

Geto

He is a HUGE gossip. "Mimiko was telling me about xyz yesterday." He just doesn't know when to shut up. People think Geto is a very quiet and kept to himself kind of person but when he knows you he will not stop talking shit.

Toji

There are so many things I could say but the worst of them all is the fact that he will wear the same pair of underwear more than twice. "Toji... are those the same fucking boxers you had on Thursday?" You can see the hem line of his boxers and it looks like the same pair from Thursday. He sets down his cup, "Uh, probably. What's today?" ... "IT'S SUNDAY. JUST WASH YOUR CLOTHES!"

Nanami

He's overbearing with tasks. He forgets that you know how to do things and will bug you until he knows you've done them. "Don't forget to take your car to get an oil change soon." You nod.

A few hours later when he returns home, "Have you gone down to get the oil ch-"

"Kento! The love of my life. I know. I'm going tomorrow." ... "Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

Nobara

Leaves her plate/bowl/etc on the table. You've reminded her on multiple occasions that she needs to do it but she just forgets. "Food was great!" She yells with a smile. In no time she's up from the table sprinting to the living room. "Nobara.. your plate." She freezes, "Oh shit right. I'll get it!"

Maki

She snores. It's not the cute kind either, it's the loud obnoxious kind that prevents you from sleeping. You've tried to get her to change her sleeping posture and find other ways to help but it does. not. matter. By the end of the night she will be holding you close. Your back pressed against her front and loud snores ringing in your ear.

Inumaki

Never gives you any kind of warning when he's going to fart he just does it. HE KNOWS they're a lethal weapon but finds it funny whenever you're screaming at him and gasping for air. God forbid he ever farts while you two are in bed because a dutch oven from him is probably enough to kill you.

Shoko

She laughs whenever you trip or get hurt in any kind of way. She doesn't even mean it she just does it. Like say she sees that the pavement is uneven she doesn't say anything and watches you trip, just to laugh about it. "Okay okay okay, I'm so *giggle* sorry. I should have said something, let me help you up."

Sukuna

Thinks because he's lived for a long time he knows everything and then he gets mad when, "This stupid little talking box won't work." (his phone) "This shit is broken again." He complains throwing it to you. "Dude.. it's powered off. 'Mr. I Know Everything.'" He rolls his eyes at you, "I do know everything you shit for brains." You scoff, "See if I ever help you turn on your 'talking box' again."

Choso

He's always second guessing you. He doesn't even realize it either. The two of you will be driving and he's like, "Are you sure you know where we're going? Should I pull up GPS." YOU KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING CHILL. He's just really cautious though which is why he asks a million times.

[petew21-blog]

Workout routine

My best friend from school, Emily, married last summer while still being at university with me. She is still young, but claimed that her boyfriend truly loves her. Bullshit if you ask me, he never respected here and treated here like a trophy wife since the beginning. Yeah I hated him. He was a homophobic asshole and acting like some fuckin' alpha male. Why Emily dated him I never understood

One day we were on their garden studying for an upcoming exam. I was nervous most of the time cause James was working outside fixing stuff and eyed me like a prey. Emily went to get us some snacks and drinks.

He came up to me and started some homophobic talk how I could choose this path of sin and so on. I couldn't look up at him. Cause he was very close to me, very shritless and VERY sexy. Way too much. If I looked up even for a second, I would immediately get hard.

"You gays are the worst thing about this generation. You can't even work, y'all do your artsy useless shit and nothing usefull"

"Can you just let me live and go on about your life? I don't want to listen to this."

"Well you're on my property so you'll listen to whatever I have to tell you"

A call from inside the house. Emilly called him

"You're lucky. If it weren't for her you'd be already on the ground biting dust"

What an idiot. I was raging. I think I'll just leave and go home. I can't calm myself down and I don't want to cause any drama with Emily. Even if I think her husband is horrible, I don't want ot loose her a s a friend"

Emily came out of the house, smiling. She brought the snacks and water. She looked at me "Sorry for... taking so long. I had to sort something that couldn't wait. Now drink up, you haven't drank for hours. I should have brought drinks sooner."

I took the glass and took a sip. But then I felt really nauseaous. My vision was blurry now and I felt like vomiting. All I could make out of Emily's face was that she was smiling.

Then my vision started getting clearer again. But it was strange, I wasn't outside anymore. I was in their kitchen, holding a glass. "How did I get here?" went through in my head. As I looked for the nearest surface to put down the glass I noticed that I was shirtless.

Wait, what?!? This isn't my body!!!

I let go off the glass destroying it. But nothing could have prepared me for being this ripped in the matter of seconds. This is something I always wished for, but never thought I would get. I was always the skinny twink trying to build more muscles, but couldn't. And now, I have massive muscles.

I found a mirror in the hall. No, this can't be happening. I am James. I can't be him. He is an asshole. A homophobic asshole.

But his body thought otherwise. His dick got hard. And it isn't small. Which might be cool to play with, but now I was still angry everytime I looked at the mirror.

"Enjoying yourself?" Emily asked as she entered the house

"What have you done, Ems?"

"I gave you a new body. The one you have been lusting for. And as a side effect I got myself an improvement for a boyfriend. I loved him before, but I was blind and deaf to all the things he said on your account and to all the things he commented about me. Never appreciated me. But you are the best man I ever knew. And I wanted to be with you even if I wasn't your type. But now, I think I might be" she said as she placed her hand on my new crotch.

I thought I wouldn't like this, cause I was gay for my entire life, but James's body is still straight. But in my mind I could even picture myself with a dude and not be disgusted

"Ems, I think you didn't turn me straight as you wished for. I think I'm bi, actually"

"Whatever is best for both of us. I got a cute gay friend who you might like and who would love to explore your body, with me. But I think there might be some emotions involved, you know. Cause of the previous ownership and so on." she said and laughed out loud.

I took her up and put her on the kitchen table. Embracing her and going for a kiss.

"Ems, you are the best friend I could have ever wanted. I love you and I will love you now as your husband"

We could hear a scream outside coming from the garden. We could only smile at each other as we knew what was coming

Two months later:

"Hey, my name is James and this is my colleague Robert. Robert is a small gay dude friend from my wife. We are going on a road trip to get to know each other better with the permission from my wife. So we would like a room"

"Oh, there's only double bed? That's absolutely fine with us, right Robert? Bro's will be bro's and NO HOMO. Hahaha"

A story request from Inbox: Could you do a swap with a Twink and his best friend’s bodybuilder husband?

[yourmidnightlover]

(You don’t have to do this) Xavier Thorpe x reader

The try not to kiss each other challenge on tiktok

ahh YES! i hope i brought your request to justice

i'm gonna take this as like a lovers to friends to lovers kinda thing bc there isnt enough of that going around with our beloved xavier

i also wanted to let y'all know that i am working through my requests! inspiration strikes at odd hours, and i'm trying to delegate all of my time respectively to all of the fics i'm working on. but i assure you i will work through everything!

tension

paring: xavier thorpe x reader (duh)

summary: after months of flirting, your friends take matters into their own hands and dared you to do a tiktok trend.

warnings: kissing, tons of tension (also duh),they're cuddly? i don't think there's really anything else but let me know if i've missed something!

it had been months and months of flirting between you and xavier thorpe. consistent, unending, raw flirting. this included the batting of eyelashes, shoving of arms, longing stares, buying of gifts... everything. the whole shebang.

and god, were enid, ajax and wednesday tired of it. wednesday constantly wanted to claw her own eyes out when she saw you. enid thought it was cute the first two months, but after that she was only confused as to why you would never make it official. and ajax would just tease the two of you. he voiced his concerns with xavier, occasionally with you, but mostly with xavier. he would mostly talk about how dumb he was to not just ask you out or make it official.

so, as enid was scrolling through tiktok, she stumbled upon a certain video of two friends... or mayabe they were more? either way, they were sitting in front of each other, and each one moved closer to the other. the premise was whoever breaks the tension and kisses the other loses, she guessed?

regardless, there was tension and there was a kiss and that is exactly what needs to happen with you and xavier in order to put everyone out of their misery.

so, she sent the tiktok to ajax and wednesday, the message reading:

weregirl: OMG! we've got to get them to do this! they'd totally admit everything!

middleoftheweek: this is repulsive to watch, but i hope it will be worth it as long as they get whatever they need to out of their system

snakes4hair: if this gives my boy the push he needs to make a move then i'll do basically whatever

and just like that... the game was afoot.

"dude," ajax was laughing at the lunch table. you had thrown your legs over xavier's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as he played with your hair. "there's this new thing i saw online the other day. enid sent it to me, and i doubt you and y/n would be able to do it," ajax chuckled as he looked towards enid.

"oh, definitely not," enid shook her head exaggeratedly. "they'd never be able to do it."

"do what?" xavier spoke up as he took a bite of your sandwich.

"yea, do what?" you perked up at the idea of a chellnege. "we could do it, right?"

"hell yea," xavier nodded as he pat your thigh. "we could 100% do it."

"i don't think you could," wednesday said curtly, sneering at both you and xavier's closeness. "at all."

"yes we could!" xavier removed his hands from your hair, throwing them up dramatically.

"alright," ajax spoke up. "i dare you to complete little challenge. you have to record it though, as proof, and post it."

"deal!" both you and xavier looked at each other, giving each other a high five that only resulted in your hands holding.

later that night, you and xavier had retreated to his shed as he painted before they sent you the video you had to recreate.

"seriously?" you scoffed. "they're just sitting there looking at each other with music playing," you looked at xavier as the video played.

"wait," he pointed at the screen. "they're like inching closer to each other. like one does and then the other."

"but why?" you got your answer less than thirty seconds later. "oh..." you glanced at xavier, who bit his lower lip before glancing at you with a smile.

"i never back down from a dare," xavier shrugged as he looked at you.

you nodded, "neither do i."

after setting up the camera with the video on the three-minute setting, about to start recording. you were sitting on the mattress that you had both smuggled in his shed, the one that used to be rowans before... well. yea. both sitting across from each other, your legs were overlapped with each other's. then, the music started playing.

at first you were both smiling, giggling, even. you inched closer to his face first, around 10 seconds after the music started. your faces seemed closer than they ever were before, and that's when the smiles faded and the tension built.

he reached around you and pulled you on top of his lap for his move. the longer this went on, the more it felt like a game of chess, only physical. you swore you could see every shade of green littering his irises. his cologne somehow radiated around you. you made the mistake of looking at his lips, curiosity getting the better of you. he was gently biting his lower lip. it was almost as if he wanted you to kiss it better.

then, you placed your hand on the lower side of his face, nearer to his neck. you could feel his pulse rate picking up. it was exciting to see what kind of power you had over him. you could now feel the way you affected him. now, you saw as his eyes went to your lips which only made you smirk that much more.

he used both of his hands to bring your face right in front of his. he was everywhere. to your side, you would see his hands. his hands took up nearly your entire face, and you loved the way they felt against your skin. part of you never wanted them to leave. you could nudge his nose with your own if you even slightly moved. you were getting close to losing this whole game. you wouldn't. you couldn't.

you tilted your head to the left, bringing your lips closer to his own but not touching. you were so close you could practically breathe in each other's air. you could feel his pulse pick up once more before you licked your lips, you felt his chuckle radiating around your head. but when you looked in his eyes you felt something totally different. it was heavier. it was more.

then, with a mumble, "screw it," he pulled your face into his own, kissing you with all the tension he had built up over not just the past two minutes, but from the past months of doing nothing.

your hand moved up to his hair, running through it like you had so many times. in this context, though, your hand running through his hair was so, so much different. it was much more intimate.

you let his tongue into your mouth happily, nearly breaking the kiss with how big of a grin you had on your face. one of his hands moved to your waist, wrapping around you like the warmest hug you've ever had. your other hand was holding the hand still on your face. you meant it when you said you never wanted them to leave.

truth be told, you never wanted him to leave. you never wanted to stop kissing him. you've wanted to for months on end, but you were too scared of being rejected. you thought he was joking about all of the flirting sometimes. the touches, everything. but this kiss felt more real than time.

"i think i won," xavier whispered as he went up for air. you shook your head.

"i think ajax won," you chuckled as you both began to laugh. "him or myself, of course," you rolled your eyes.

"we all won," he compromised.

"stupid tension, huh?"

[sommerbueckers]

HIHI ITS 🤍 I LOVED THE LAST ONE SHOT YOU WROTE FOR MY REQUEST SO IM BEING GREEDY AND SENDING ANOTHER⁉️

so basically it’s fluff with paige finding out her gf/flirty friend?? doesn’t know how to drive/isn’t good at it and teaching her🤭🤭 just imagine paige teases her about her bad parking, hand on her thigh the whole time she tries to focus on driving, praising her when she’s doing good

need this woman SO BAD

Did y'all miss me??

HI BABY, so glad you loved the last one and I hope this one meets ur standardsssss

Paige sighed as she pulled into a gas station and parked the car. It was mostly deserted with the exception of a family that was taking their leave.

"I'll pump and you grab snacks?" she quirked a brow at you and was met with a nod.

The two of you were four hours into your adventitious road trip and you could tell Paige was getting tired. You had encouraged her to get as much rest as possible so that she'd have enough energy to make the full drive, it's not because you didn't want to drive, but because you didn't know how.

You had never learned to drive simply because you never needed to. Throughout high school you had taken the bus to and from school, your friends and parents drove you to every public event, and you never went anywhere you didn't feel absolutely inclined to. So learning to drive was never something that crossed your mind.

But sitting in the passenger seat of Paige's car with her barely able to keep her eyes open, it was the only thing on your mind.

You grabbed two Redbulls from the refrigerator section and a couple random snacks before making your way to the register. Pulling out your wallet you said, "Can I put twenty-five on pump four?"

...

"You get me Tru Fru?" Paige perked up when she noticed you approaching the car.

"Duh, a Redbull too, can't have you fallin' asleep behind the wheel," you snorted, hoping she got the message.

"About that," the blonde started, leaning in through the driver side window, "I was thinking you could take over for a little."

"Take over what?"

"Driving, what else?" she laughed.

"How am I gonna watch my show if I'm driving?"

"C'mon ma, just for a little. I just need a break."

"I told you to go to sleep last night but you wanted to watch another episode, now you have to pay the price."

"Bro," she groaned, resting her forehead on her forearms. "It's not like you were against watching another episode, you wanted to see the recoupling just as much as I did."

"Wait we need to talk about that for a moment, because that shit was crazy."

"Nah for real though! I love Mackenzie 'n' all but choosin' her over Courtney was fuckin' crazy."

"Yeah, yeah and-"

"No, stop," Paige interrupted, "you're trying to distract me from the conversation."

You sighed in defeat, "It was working for a moment," you mumbled.

"Please peach, just drive. Drive for a little and then we can switch back," she pleaded.

"Paige I can't..."

"Why not?"

"Because I-" you sighed and rubbed your hands over your face, "I can't drive."

"What do you mean?"

She was met with silence as you shook your head and leaned back, embarrassed to admit it out loud.

"Look I get that you don't want to but I don't want to drive another-"

"No, Paige I literally can't drive. Like I never learned how."

"Huh? You're jus' lyin' so you don't have to drive," she frowned.

"Dude why do you think I never drive to your house?"

"'Cus you don't have a car."

"And why do you think that is? 'Cus I can't fuckin' drive."

Paige stared silently at you, her eyes wide with shock as she processed the information. She bit the inside of her cheek and tapped her fingers against the door. When the pump popped out of the socket, she placed it back into the hold and got into the car.

She didn't start it back up, just stared at you with a teasing smile.

"You really never learned how to drive?" she asked.

"Never."

"You never wanted to learn?"

"I never needed to."

"So how did you get everywhere?"

"The same way I do now. Ubers, busses, my friends."

Paige shook her head, "I can't believe this, we gotta do somethin' about this."

...

"What is this?" you frowned, pausing your Netflix show and looking through the windshield.

"This is my course."

"Your what?"

"My driving course, where you're gonna learn how to drive," Paige said.

"Paige what? No, what're you doing?"

Paige parked the car and unbuckled her seatbelt, not answering your question as she stepped out and walked over to your side.

"Either you can get out this car willingly or I can get you out myself. You pick."

You looked up at her with pleading eyes, begging her not to make you do this. But she didn't seem to care, leaning patiently against the car door as she waited for you to get out.

"Ugh, fuck."

...

"Alright adjust your mirrors, make sure you can see your surroundings," Paige instructed.

"Oh my god, look at my eyebrows!" you frowned, running your finger across all the little hairs surrounding them.

"Focus!" Paige exclaimed, thumping your head. "Now put the car in drive."

"It won't move," you roughly tried yanking the gear stick back but it wouldn't budge. "Maybe this is a sign that we shouldn't be doing this."

"Shut that shit up," Paige snorted, "put your foot on the break and then change gears."

Once you switched the gears and let your foot off the break, the car began to move on its own. In a panic, you slammed your foot back down, jerking the car forward.

"Shit! I wasn't even pressing the gas," you frowned at the blonde.

"Yeah the car moves by itself," Paige suppressed a laugh as she nodded at you. "Just relax," she breathed out, gently rubbing her hand up and down your thigh. "You don't gotta be scared, i'm right here."

You nodded your head and gave her a smile, turning your attention back to the empty parking lot in front of you. With a deep breath, you finally eased your foot off the break.

...

"Go up more...little more. Good girl," Paige gave your thigh a light squeeze as she praised you.

You could feel your cheeks heat up at her words and you did your best to focus on driving.

"Alright now put the car in reverse and turn the wheel that way as you back up," the blonde said.

"Can't believe I'm fuckn' doing this," you breathed out through a laugh.

Paige smiled, "Doin' great baby."

Paige's hand inched higher and higher the more you backed the car into the lines. As her hand crept toward the inside of your thigh, you panically -- for the second time -- slammed your foot on the break.

"What just happened?" she asked when you parked the car.

"I got nervous," you shrugged innocently.

Paige smirked knowingly at you before unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car to check your job. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline and she tilted her head, chuckling to herself.

"I don't think I've ever seen worse," she said once back in the car.

"Stop. Was it really that bad?"

"No, no," she smiled, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, "You just need a lil practice, that's all."

"You sure? Don't lie to make me feel good," you said.

"I'm not lying."

"Okay."

A beat of silence passed before Paige spoke again.

"I have seen Drew do better though..."

"Paige!"

...

"You're not being a very good student right now," Paige whispered, using her thumb to drag your bottom lip down.

"I'm only as good as you make me," you smirked.

You softly pressed your lips against hers, smiling when you felt her hand travel to the back of your neck and hold you close.

"You're so pretty," she caressed your cheek with her other hand, "and smart...even though you can't drive."

"You are such a dick," you playfully slapped her arm, pulling away and sitting back in your seat.

She shrugged to herself and opened her bag of Tru Fru, tossing a few pieces of the chocolate into her mouth. "Next lesson."

...

"Alright so this is an intersection," Paige explained, "it's packed."

You stared blankly out at the empty parking lot, furrowing your eyebrows and then side-eyeing her.

"Art of imagination," she patted your thigh. "Now the car on the left of you was here when you got here, but the car on your right got here at the same time as you, do you know what to do?"

"The car on my left goes first," you answer.

"Right, but what about the other car? Who gets to go first?"

"Whoever presses the gas harder," you snort, only to be met with Paige's unimpressed expression. "Fine. Uh...don't they go first? I have to yield to cars on my right."

"Bro you got it!" Paige smiled.

You clapped briefly, shyly shrugging your shoulders as you looked up at her. "I think I deserve a kiss."

"Oh do you?"

"Mhm...et lite kyss," you mumbled.

"Fuck that's so sexy, say somethin' else," Paige said.

"Kom hit," you gestured for her to come here with your finger, connecting your lips in a slow kiss.

"Hmm," she hummed against your lips, "you ready to go?"

You nodded your head, "Please. Do I have to drive?"

"No, not gonna make you do that."

"Good, 'cus if you did, there'd be no kisses for you tonight."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm ashamed to admit that I am in fact a lazy son of a bitch...sorry

[miyuhpapayuh]

21

As soon as Leon walked through the door of Brandon's apartment, nostalgia hit him like a Mack truck.

The air still felt familiar. Every memory of their friendship within these walls came flooding back to him.

“You turned this into a bachelor pad, huh?” Leon cracks.

Brandon laughs. “Ah, had to upgrade the futon and card table at some point, right?”

Leon joined in the laughter, shaking his head. “We lived a lil rough, I won't lie.”

“We made do, though.”

“Please, our mamas woulda killed us if we didn't.”

“You right about that.” Brandon nods, as they move into the living room and take a seat.

The first conversation they've had in five years.

“So, what's up?” Leon asks.

“I wanna start by apologizing to you. I know I was a hothead and I blew you off, a lot. I said some fucked up shit to you and I can't take it back. It took me a long time to realize that you were just looking out for me, cause I just wanted to have fun with my dawg. I wasn't thinking about later in life or the consequences that would come. You were like a brother to me and it's been hell out here without friends like you in my corner.”

Leon nods, knowing it took a lot for them to get to this point, and he knew it was a genuine apology.

“It's all good, man. I said some fucked up shit to you too. I was mad for a while. A long time. Cause we was into it over crazy shit. Petty shit. Yeah, you blew me off a whole lot and I used to take up for yo ass at every stop, cause you was my boy. But I couldn't stick around for the disrespect. But, we can't go through the rest of our lives holdin’ onto that shit.”

“I understand that. I understood it then, it just pissed me off cause fuck you mean we ain't cool no more?” He laughs, Leon joining in. “I'm just glad that I could get you here and sincerely say that. I didn't know what to say for a long time. Sorry just didn't seem good enough. I'm sorry for that, too.”

“It's all good, seriously. I'm sorry, too.” Leon says.

“For what?” Brandon’s brows scrunch.

“I harbored some hatred for you when you and my sister started… whatever y'all got goin’ on. Did the usual overbearing brother thing, but she was hellbent on you becoming a stand-up dude, and I can see that she wasn't lying. It was just so weird to me.”

“I get it, honestly. I mean, that's your little sister. I would never disrespect either of you, things just sorta happened. We knew how it looked and I knew that you and I needed to talk.”

“Well again, I appreciate that man. And just as long as I ain't gotta knock your head between the stove and refrigerator, I'm cool with you and Eryn doing what y'all doing.”

“I know that came straight from the heart.” Brandon nods before laughing.

“I'm glad you know,” Leon says, laughing as well.

“Now that all of that is out the way, what's new with you? Cause I did hear about a girlfriend.”

“Man, ima marry that woman.” Leon shakes his head, a smirk appearing on his lips.

“Word??” Brandon asks, cocking his head to the side.

“No doubt about it.”

“Damn, what's that like?”

And boy, did Leon spend the next almost hour filling his old friend in on everything he'd experienced with Zora thus far.

“Am I invited to the wedding, at least?”

“Come on man, of course!”

They slapped hands and hugged like the brothers they've always been.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Returning back to his apartment, Leon was immediately greeted by his yawning girlfriend, as she decided to stay up and wait for him.

“Hey baby,” he says, placing a kiss on her forehead as she wraps her arms around him, swaying in their hug as usual.

“Hey, how'd everything go?”

“It went well, actually. We both apologized to each other, caught up like old friends and he's invited to our wedding now, whenever that is.” He snorts, making her join in with her own laughter.

“I'm glad y'all made up, that puts me at so much ease, cause now you're at ease.” She says, rubbing his back.

He smiles, kissing her nose. “Me too, baby. Is that why you're still up?”

“Yeah, I thought something happened. I contemplated on calling you, but then I heard the door unlock.” She smiles.

“You still sleepy?” He asks.

“Eh, not so much anymore. We can still jump back in the bed though. I'm freezing.”

“I'll say,” he steps back to look over her attire, which consists of one of his sweatshirts pulled over her nightgown and fuzzy socks.

“What?” She laughs, playfully smacking his cheek as he shakes his head, his eyes landing back on her face.

“You look beautiful.” He says before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her back into his room.

Back under the covers and in each others arms, the couple flip through the channels to find something to watch.

“Martin?”

“Nah. Half & Half is on tv??” Zora squints, making Leon snicker.

“Did you forget your contacts again?”

“No, I just didn't wanna put them back in yet cause I might fall asleep again soon. I brought my glasses, I just need to get them out of my bag.”

Without another word, he hands her the remote and slides out the bed to retrieve them for her.

“Thank you,” she giggles, putting them on.

“No problem, is that what you wanted to watch?”

“Mmm… nah, let's see what else is on. It's just interesting that it's accessible like that. It's hard finding what you used to watch all the time.”

“Yeah, you right. I remember how hype I was when they brought Jamie back into the rotation.”

“See, he's better than Martin!”

“Yeah, I have to agree.”

“He was way too sexual for me, personally.”

“Yeah, what you be saying? Men are gross? I agree.”

“Good. Plus, you're not a man, you're an angel.” She kisses his face, making him laugh.

“And you're not a woman, you're a goddess.” He pulls her closer to him, continuing to flip through the channels.

“Ooh, my girls!” She all but yells as Living Single pops up.

“There we go.” He chuckles, sitting the remote down.

“Oh, it's one of my favorite ones too!”

“This the one where they were in a singing group?”

“The flavorettes, yes!”

“O had that nasty ass piece on his head, man.” He snickers.

“That was so ugly, I agree. It was so cute how he was still smitten by Synclaire and she was being so mean!” Zora laughs.

���We like that shit.”

“We know,” she responds, still laughing.

After watching Max fall of the stage and get hit with roses, she dozed off again, this time more comfortably since Leon was back underneath her.

“I love you.” He whispers, kissing her forehead.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“I don't wanna work here anymore.” Zora mumbles to herself as she leans on the bar.

“Then quit!”

“Not that simple,” she sighs, tapping her nails against the freshly disinfected countertop.

As if on cue, the restaurant phone rings.

“Thank you for calling the pub, what can I get you?”

“Yeah, let me get the Wednesday special and a side of Zora Jean!” Nique says before cracking up into the phone.

“Girl!” Zora laughs, covering her mouth and looking around her area.

“What do you want, man?”

“What time do you get off?”

“Six, why?”

“You'll see when we get there. I'll meet you at your place.”

“Do I need to dress up or something?”

“Nope. No more questions! See ya later, love you, bye!”

After work, freshly showered and dressed down in her comfy sweatsuit and uggs, she trudges towards her best friend's car as the wind picks up.

“Hey, lover!” Nique greets once Zora’s situated inside.

“Hey! Where’re we going?”

“You'll see,” she sings, before pulling out of the lot and to their destination.

“So, how was your day?”

“Tiring. I think I'm kinda ready to let it go, friend.” Zora sighs, sticking her finger in the middle of her curly bun to scratch.

“Really?” Nique smirks. “Why what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she laughs. “I'm just kinda over being there. And I know, we talk about it all the time and I continue to stick it out and I've made it work for me, so it's been extra great.. but I'm not feeling it anymore. The money isn't even worth it.”

“It's okay to feel burnt out. That's why I've always been pro-fuck that job. And no, I'm not gonna insist that you come work with me, I know we're past that. But this could be a good thing for you. You wanna find a new job?”

“No, I need a revamp on my career, as a whole. I wanna… I wanna be the artist of my dreams, again.” She somberly smiles, looking toward the window as her emotions slowly take hold of her.

Nique looks in her direction for a split second, unable to hide her smile.

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

Looking back in her direction, Zora begins to ask what she meant, but then she begins to recognize her surroundings.

“Dominique.”

“Zora-Jean.”

“The Mint?”

“The one and only, babe.” She cheeses, just as Zora covers her face, unable to hold her tears in any longer.

“Oh my god,” she sobs.

“Oh, Jean. Don't cry on me!”

Coming to a red light, she consoles her best friend, rubbing her back with her free hand.

“It's okay, I've been feeling like crying for weeks now. You know how I hold shit in— but, seriously this is so surreal. You just know what I'm thinking and how to execute it every single time. Who are you!” She hysterically asks, making them both laugh as the light turns back green.

“The greatest friend in the world— at least that's what my badge says.” She shrugs.

“Jesus,” Zora playfully scoffs, wiping her wet face.

“Seriously, though. Thank you.”

“Come on, you know you deserve this. It's been in the works for almost six years!”

“Ugh, that's so depressing. Isn't it?”

“Nah. It would be depressing if you still wanted to come home covered in grease after six years. You've had your epiphany and now it's time to plan!”

“You said it! I'm ready.”

“That's all I need to hear!”

Moving inside the spacious museum, the two look around and begin formulating their ideas.

“Wow, I haven't been out here in so long.” Zora looks around in awe.

“Yeah, they rightfully changed some shit around! It was starting to get stale in here.”

“Hm, what pieces could I put in here?”

“All of them?” Nique looks at her like she'd just grown a second head.

“Stop looking at me like that! I'm just asking. I also need to create so much more.”

“Mmhm, get that portfolio together and fast. You know we gotta start making ourselves real familiar with these people. “

“Yes, mom. I'm on it.” 

It feels good to be back.

@ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @honestpreference @thegifstories @harmshake @henneseyhoe @headcannonxgalore @blackpinup22 @motheroffae @mauvecherie-writes @blackerthings @megamindsecretlair @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | may 27 - june 2

note: before i start this, i just want to warn y'all that it's 24.4k. if you want to read this in one sitting, i recommend locking in.

please hit me up in my inbox to give me feedback! or your thoughts! or speculation on what's coming next! i want you guys to talk to me all the time and tell me every thought you have. if i could send each of you the google document and force you to leave comments, i would.

also, i think by the time this fic is finished, it might be long enough to be a novel. should we all work together to get it published?

1:90 – TREVOR

“Do we really think it’s a good idea to spend the summer down here instead of the Michigan house?” Jack asks. “We own that one, after all.”

“Everyone knows about the Michigan house,” Trevor points out.

Cole, who had plotted this with Trevor after last summer’s debacle, sighs. “We can’t keep having the same conversation. We decided that we would train at the Checkers’ rink when we can get down to Charlotte and use the cement slab as our own rink in the yard of the rental house in the meantime. So that’s not your problem. So, what is, Jack? You’re gonna miss the girls?”

Jack fixes Cole with a cutting glare. “Fuck off.”

“You know, there are girls in North Carolina,” Cole says, a grin dimpling his cheeks. “Sweet, southern belles, even.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I can’t wait for the rest of the goons to get here. We’ll put it to a fucking vote and I’ll get to go home.”

“If you want to go home so bad, why don’t you?” Trevor asks. “We’re not forcing you to be here.”

“You triple-belted me in the backseat,” Jack argues. “You’re taking me away from Michigan and you can’t even let me have shotgun.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” Trevor mocks. “You have hands. And fingers. You’re not helpless.”

Jack huffs from his spot in the back, stubbornly turning his head to the right to watch the trees pass. Cole does the same from the passenger seat, tapping his fingers along the pane of the window.

There are twenty miles, an hour total, still on the GPS. Trevor hasn’t seen a town since they stopped at the gas station at the bottom of the mountain, the closest city being Winston-Salem almost an hour and a half ago, barely more than sparse houses and fields in the time since. They’re driving along a stream now and the latest exit off this small, two lane highway said “Love Valley.” Trevor snickers at the sign and goes to point it out to Jack, but Jack beats him to it.

“Don’t, Z.”

“It’s funny, dude.”

“It’s not, though.”

Cole cranks the volume up, drowning out the continuing argument that floats forward from the backseat. 

They drive on and Trevor thinks about it– everything. They have three unobscured months in Litchton, the only people knowing about their whereabouts are their families and coaches. The goons, as Jack referred to them, would be joining them sometime in the next day or two. Quinn and Luke had to wrap up some loose ends at home (Quinn, closing up his apartment for the summer; Luke, visiting some college friends as their semester comes to an end.

Litchton was the safest bet and Krebs had mentioned North Carolina to Trevor in passing the one time they caught up throughout the year, heaving heard from Leschyshyn that the mountain towns of his home state were notoriously quiet and drama-free and that their inhabitants, although lovers of gossip, kept to themselves. 

After those girls had snuck into the Michigan house at the end of the summer and started showing up wherever the boys went in the evenings, Trevor just wanted a summer off. He wanted time with his friends the way they used to have it, just working out together and drinking until they dropped, swimming and parading around the town like normal guys in their early twenties. 

In Litchton, they could pretend to be guys that were home for the summer, ready to start some corporate finance or everyday-tie job. It was a look into what could’ve been, had they not dedicated their lives to their sport. 

For three months, he gets to be Trevor Zegras, the kid who complained about his name being last on the roster in every class growing up and the kid who worked in his mom’s store after school. But he’s also Trevor Zegras, NHL superstar, ninth overall pick, owner of the best Michigan goal in the United States, so he might toss his name around in Litchton this summer. Just to see if it gets him anything.

If it doesn’t, his good looks certainly will. What’s flirting with a few old ladies on the street? It’ll be the highlight of their year.

Trevor misses the driveway the first time the car passes it. It’s hidden by brush and along a curve. The GPS reroutes them– but they have to drive an extra fifteen minutes along this road before they can turn around. 

They drive into a small town, a strip of eclectic stores littering the main road. There’s a small grocery store with a fruit stand out front that Cole points to.

“We could pick up some food while we’re out here,” Cole suggests. Upon hearing Jack’s mouth open in the backseat, he continues, “Just so we don’t have to come back later.”

Jack slouches against the backseat, huffing about being cut off at the opportunity to express his discomfort. 

“Jacky, will you relax? We’re going to have fun this summer.” Trevor tells him, turning into the parking lot and choosing a spot close to the entrance. 

Cole laughs when Jack unbuckles his three seatbelts in the wrong order and has to untangle them. Trevor flips the mirror down and fudges his hair, fluffing the ends. He had gotten it cut just before they left for this trip, so the edges were still even and sharp. 

Jack is the first to exit the car, practically throwing himself onto the pavement with his excitement to leave the vehicle behind, if only briefly. They’d been driving for hours. Cole flew into New York from Montréal, so Trevor had to pick him up from the airport. They picked Jack up in Jersey in the early morning and started driving south. 

Trevor can’t blame Jack for his annoyance. They’ve been in the car with him for ten long hours and they forced the first stretch of driving on him, having spent about two hours in the car before getting him. He had just woken up and had to drive four hours through the traffic of Philly and into Baltimore. He napped while Cole drove down through most of Virginia, and then woke up grumpy anyway when Trevor took over to take on North Carolina. 

It’s been a long fucking day.

They shop together, but they bicker quietly. After years of friendship, their arguments seem more like brotherly spats. The knowing smiles from the women in the grocery store prove that they’ve heard encounters like this before, likely in their own homes. 

Eventually, Trevor rolls his eyes and goes to sit in the car. He leaves Cole and Jack to pay for the groceries. Upon leaving the store, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up Instagram, hoping to catch up on the posts that he had missed on the long drive.

Walking past the fruit stand out front, Trevor bumps into someone and he stumbles back.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes, reaching out and steadying the girl with a touch to her elbow. “I didn’t see you.”

“Hard to see me when you’re on your phone,” she replies with a tilted smile. 

Trevor lets out a little laugh at her reply, barely a breath. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

She nods with an approving hum and turns back to the stand, picking up a peach and turning it over in her hand. 

Trevor turns and walks to the car, climbing into the vehicle and settling behind the wheel. He watches the sliding door for his friends, but his eyes drift back to the girl.

She’s tied a red bandana in her hair and she slips peaches into her mesh bag. She talks to the vendor, using her hands to speak. She’s pretty, he realizes, far prettier than the girls he knows from California. The vendor hands her a basket of strawberries, which she takes carefully, inspecting the red berries by twisting the basket’s handle from side to side, spinning it. Trevor can see her profile this way– the slope of her nose, smooth. Her eyelashes, long. Her lips, pink and pursed into a little smile. Her stance is tilted, one hand on her hips.

Trevor is back outside the car before he can think. He approaches her as she pays for her fruit, standing behind her when she turns around.

She jumps when she sees him. “You’re still here?” She asks.

“No, but I’m back,” Trevor replies, realizing just how lame he sounds. “My friends and I are staying here for the summer and I just wanted to introduce myself.”

When he falls silent after explaining himself, she looks at him expectantly. He can see the bottoms of her teeth as her lips part. “So introduce yourself.” She gestures for him to go on.

“I’m Trevor,” he says, sticking his hand out. “My friends call me Z.”

Her eyes drop to his hand briefly. She considers it before reaching up and taking his hand, shaking it. “Why?” She asks.

“My last name starts with a Z,” Trevor supplies. “Zegras.” The smile he gives her is strained, expecting her eyes to light up in recognition. They do, but it’s not in the way he expects.

“You’re Greek?” She asks, her interest piqued. 

“Yeah,” Trevor replies. “But not, like… Greek. I’m from New York, but I live in California now.”

At the mention of California, her face stiffens. She hums disapprovingly. “Got sick of the West Coast, I take it? Is that why you’re back east this summer?”

Trevor flounders for a moment. “I love California, but the guys and I always spend our summers together. Usually we’re in Michigan.”

“So y’all travel all around, huh?” She asks. She doesn’t sound impressed, which makes Trevor nervous. In fact, she sounds almost disdainful, but the look on her face appears as though she’s holding back a laugh. Whether that is at his expense, he doesn’t know.

“We’re very lucky,” Trevor confirms, nodding tightly. “Most of our travel is for work, though. We all work in the same industry and it involves a lot of, um, business trips.”

“Business trips?” She asks, letting the laugh overtake her this time as she looks him up and down. “You?”

Trevor looks down at his own outfit, the basketball shorts and loose t-shirt. They’re two of the few clothes he owns that are not branded with the Ducks logo. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve been driving a while and I wanted to be comfortable.”

“You certainly look comfortable,” She agrees with a nod, her grin knowing and wide.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Trevor says with a similar grin, shuffling forward just a step now that he’s got her smiling and laughing.

It’s then that Cole and Jack exit the grocery store, each with a hefty load of grocery bags on their arms. They’re laughing, so it appears Cole has managed to cheer up the sullen Jack in Trevor’s absence. Trevor watches the girl’s eyes leave his, drawn to the movement and volume of his two friends. He curses them in his mind, watching as they find him and decide to approach.

“I thought you were warming up the car, Z,” Jack accuses, his eyes flickering between Trevor and the girl. “D’you get distracted?”

Trevor bites his tongue before forcing a smile on his face. He turns back to the girl. “These are the some of the friends I mentioned, Jack and Cole. The other ones, Jack’s brothers, aren’t here yet.” Trevor knows he’s overexplaining, but he can’t help it. Something about this girl has him awkward and tongue-tied, yet his tongue can’t stop forming words and pushing them out.

“Yeah, your business partners.” She rubs a hand over her face, smoothing out the half-smile that was clearly keeping a laugh at bay. “Are they also from California?”

Cole snorts. “Business partners?” He repeats. “From California? No way. You’d never catch me dead in Anaheim, unless we’re playing there. Believe me, I’d be on the quickest flight back.”

“I just said we all worked in the same industry,” Trevor corrects, throwing on his most charming smile to try and salvage the situation. He wasn’t lying, but this girl might think he is, and that would be disastrous. He doesn’t know why, but it would be. He wants her to think highly of him and now he’s made two bad first impressions.

The second one is his friends’ fault, of course.

And she does think he’s lying– Trevor can tell by the way she looks him up and down, then Cole, then Jack. Her eyes squint imperceptibly at Cole’s mention of “playing” in Anaheim, rather than working. It was a statement that could have extended the conversation, but this girl seems to decide that she is uninterested.

She nods sarcastically, then scoffs quietly. “I have to go,” she says. “It was nice to meet you, Trevor. Have fun in Litchton this summer, boys.”

“Oh, we will,” Jack assures her. Trevor hates how his eyes rake over her, combing through each detail of her skin, her clothes, and her hair.

“Nice meeting you!” Cole calls after her as she walks away.

Both boys turn to Trevor, equally annoying smiles on their faces. 

“Shut up,” he hisses before they can say anything. 

“Who was that?” Cole asks.

“I didn’t get her name,” Trevor growls through gritted teeth. “She was just about to tell me and then the two of you showed up.”

“Boo-hoo,” Jack teases. “So you won’t be the first to bed a girl this summer, for… how many summers in a row is it now, Coley?”

Cole’s laughter breaks his face, but Trevor interrupts before he can speak.

“It’s not even a real competition, Jack. You only act like it is because you fuck the same girl every summer as soon as we get to the lake house. It’s trashy.”

“Being a winner isn’t trashy, Trev. In fact, maybe I should go follow after the girl you were just chatting up. I’ll show her how a real man flirts.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Trevor feels a flare of anger well up inside of him when Jack insinuates taking this girl for himself. It should be anger about questioning Trevor’s manhood, but it is not. “Get in the car.”

He stalks off, starting the car this time and situating himself behind the wheel. Jack vies for the passenger seat unsuccessfully, souring his mood yet again. Despite Cole’s smaller stature, Jack is the one left in the backseat with the bags of groceries around him. Soon, Trevor’s shirt joins him after a misguided throw to the trunk of the car where their luggage resides.

When they arrive at the house, Jack only carries the groceries inside. He claims he’s been stilted all day and Trevor can’t really do much to prove otherwise. Cole carries in his and Jack’s luggage into the home– a rental that Trevor paid good money to book for the entire summer. 

“I get the best room!” Trevor yells after them. “I paid for it! I want the ensuite bathroom!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jack replies. He’ll leave the room for Trevor to take anyway. 

The three boys had planned this ahead of time. They would be in Litchton the whole summer, so they will take the three bedrooms that have king beds. Quinn and Luke will take the queen beds in the other bedroom, and the various guests throughout the summer will take the bunk beds in the basement. From the pictures alone, Trevor realizes that the house could sleep more than ten people. If they can find ten people, maybe they could throw a party. 

and invite that girl, Trevor thinks.

He’s taken aback by the thought and its suddenness. He doesn’t even know her name or if he’ll see her again– so why is he thinking of her?

Trevor shakes the thought and grabs his bags from the back of the car. He used an extra practice bag from the bottom of his closet in Anaheim to pack his clothes for the summer, so he has a free hand to open the door that Cole closed behind him. 

He finds the big bedroom easily and drops his bag in the closet, not bothering to unpack. He looks out the sliding door onto his porch, the wrap-around that encircles the entire back of the house. His porch holds two rocking chairs and a wooden bench. The house is built out of wood– almost overwhelmingly so– and the decorations match. His bedframe, his dresser, his bedside table, his small desk, the fan, even the blinds on the window… all of them are made of wood. 

His bathroom has double sinks and a granite countertop. The handles are gold in color, but likely not in material. The spout of the sink is more like a water spigot that one might find outdoors, but it’s classy. When Trevor enters his bathroom, he’s in awe of the jacuzzi tub and shower on the other side of the room. 

The tub and shower are both built from dark marble, bespeckled with lines of darker ore. The tub has wooden cabinets beneath the feet of marble on either side of the tub, which holds towels and toiletries on the right and left respectively. The tub has jets and a handheld spout that’s detachable. Trevor considers them. He can think of a use for both.

The shower is spacious with an overhead spout, wide and fancy. It has ledges for toiletries, as well as a seat in the corner. The door is glass and there is a hook for towels next to the opening. The shower stands from ceiling to floor, completely confined. Despite the windows to the side of it, the occupant of the shower would be completely hidden from sight, once the glass door steams up. 

Trevor explores the house further, but doesn’t take up residence anywhere. Cole and Jack seem to have put the groceries away while he found his room and looked around. Now, they’re nowhere to be found. They’ve likely taken up residence in their bedrooms for the night, tired from their eleven hour drive.

Lord knows Jack needs sleep before he braves this vacation. He always gets grumpy when he’s tired, part of the reason why he naps prior to every game. 

Trevor is glad that all of the boys can make it up for the summer. He can’t wait to get things started.

2:90 – HONEY

She wakes with the sunrise, as she does every Tuesday. It’s her first day of the week at the bookstore and she has to open. The Reading Nook is always closed on Mondays and she is one of three workers– the owner, Ada and her best friend since childhood, Bea. Ada opens the store on Thursday, whereas Bea opens it on Friday. Every other day of the week, the responsibility falls on her.

She makes her coffee and drinks it on her couch, looking out the window towards the mountains in the distance. It’s clear today and she can see the rows of mountains clearly– ten rows back. Once, her father had told her that if you could count ten rows back, you were looking at the mountains across state lines. If you could count ten mountains, then you could count all the way to Tennessee. 

She believed him, until she realized that the sun always rises behind those mountains. She faces east. Tennessee is to the west.

Still, the memory comes with fondness. It was before she moved away from home to pursue a life of quietness in the mountains, her favorite place in the world. Those days are long in the past. She has no interest in returning to them, given how far she’s come. The only person from her hometown that was welcomed into this new life was Bea and she has proven time and time again that she is deserving of that role.

Not only did they grow up together, but she got her nickname because of her friendship with Bea. As children, a long-forgotten teacher had made a comment about the two being attached at the hip, stuck together like glue. She had corrected herself with a laugh, evidently feeling clever when she said: “No, more like a bee to honey, right, girls?” From that day on, she had only gone by Honey and Bea had shortened her name from Beatrice to keep the analogy. 

She drives to The Reading Nook and unlocks the store, wiping the counter and sweeping the main room while she waits for her regular patrons to enter the store.

On Tuesdays, the “founding” women of Litchton convene in the bookstore and knit. Some days, Honey joins them. Others, she just wishes to sit and read at their table, listening in on the gossip of the week. The women are not so much founders as the grandmothers who lived in Litchton since their birth, having married and worked and raised families here. They are true Appalachian women– driven by superstition and fantastical solutions, lovers of a good story, and wonderful bakers who only crave to share their gift. They are churchgoers, often multiple times a week, and headstrong believers in their chosen politician. These are the attributes that Honey does not share with the women– she was an outsider, although she has been welcomed into the Litchton society since moving here. She attended church when the ladies asked her to, usually for the rare wedding or baptism. Rarer for a funeral, luckily. Honey does not feel any particular way about politics, at least not out loud, and she’s lucky that the ladies try to reserve that topic for the debates of their husbands over dinner parties, not the knitting circle on early Tuesday mornings.

Sacha is the first to arrive to the bookstore that morning, armed with blueberry muffins in a tupperware that Honey will have to wash in the little sink in the back while the women are knitting. Sacha has left one too many tupperwares and bowls in The Reading Nook and Honey won’t allow her to leave another behind. 

Honey plates the muffins for Sacha while the elderly woman secures the long table in the store for her friends. It does not take long for Scarlett, Gillian, Vera, and Rosalind to join. The women each knit their own project, waking up over coffee and muffins before the gossip starts.

It begins with Vera’s son’s divorce, something she had been dreading since he proposed to his soon-to-be ex-wife while they were still students at NC State. They had moved to Raleigh permanently, an action that Vera believes started this whole thing. When her son left home, and his wife finally revealed that she didn’t want children, Vera knew it was over. Or so she said. Honey thinks that she’s just butthurt about her son fleeing the nest… ten years ago. She wonders, briefly, if her own mother feels this way about her.

Honey shakes herself out of her thoughts as soon as Scarlett introduces the next topic, the topic that Honey knew was coming since the night before.

“Did you see those young men at the store yesterday? I know you always do your shopping on Monday evenings, Rosalind.” Scarlett tilts her head like she’s conspiring with Rosalind, like Rosalind has been holding information from the group.

Rosalind nods, eyes glinting behind her wired glasses. “They were such handsome boys. Lord, I tell you, if I were a young lady nowadays…”

She trails off and Honey stifles a laugh, looking down at the counter. She can feel the ladies’ eyes on her, no doubt hoping that the mention of boys piques her interest. Honey knows how these ladies were in their day– boy crazy but also efficient, looking for the perfect match and settling for no less. All of them prevailed, although from their complaints, you would never know their husbands were the loves of their lives.

“Ladies, you know this conversation would be better suited for Bea,” Honey teases. 

“Bea is too forthcoming, you are still somewhat of a mystery.” Gillian lifts an eyebrow. 

“Where is Miss Bea?” Vera asks. “Wasn’t she supposed to be here half an hour ago?”

Honey doesn’t stifle her laugh this time. “Miss Vera!” She exclaims. “It is a Tuesday morning. You know Bea has no interest in showing up to work for at least another hour.”

Vera shakes her head. “You and Ada have got to stop allowing her to show up so late.”

Sacha laughs. “As if they could stop her if they tried!”

All of the women, and Honey, laugh at the joke. It’s well established in Litchton that Bea is the tardy sort, whereas everyone else prefers to be early or on time. Bea has the attitude of a city girl, to quote the old ladies, but the work ethic and priorities of a Litchton woman. She likes her men, she likes her job, but she loves a nice lay-in.

“Besides,” Honey tells the women, hesitating with a coy smile before dropping the bomb of information: “I’ve already met those men.”

The effect is instantaneous. All of them drop their knitting onto their laps and gasp. Gillian clutches at her chest, always the most dramatic of the quintet. 

“My darling,” Rosalind marvels.

“Well?” Scarlett questions. “How? When? Tell us everything.”

Honey moves from behind the counter to an empty seat at their table. She sits next to Sacha, the woman taking her hand and holding it tightly. 

“You ladies seem to forget that I go to the fruit stand outside the store on Monday evenings,” Honey begins. “Which is where I ran into them. Literally, too– one of them had his nose buried in his phone and bumped into me. He could’ve knocked me over!”

“You should have fallen so that he could have helped you up,” Rosalind suggests. The women murmur in agreement.

Honey rolls her eyes. “I did not. He apologized, I told him that he only bumped into me because he was caught up in his phone, and he said he would be more careful next time.”

“Next time,” Gillian repeats, nodding. “So he wishes to see you again?”

“Turns out, ‘next time’ was about five minutes later, when I went to leave the stand and he was right behind me!” Honey reveals, purposefully lacing incredulity into her voice. She places a finger on her lips and widens her eyes, playing into the dramatics of the ladies as if to say “What do you think of that?”

The women gasp in time. 

“Which one was it?” Scarlett asks.

“I only saw the other two for a moment, so I don’t think I could describe them well enough to you,” Honey says. “The one I spoke to is named Trevor.” She pauses to roll her eyes before adding sarcastically, “But his friends call him Z.”

Scarlett and Rosalind nod and look to each other. 

“It must have been the one who left earlier than the other two,” Scarlett says. “With those awful tattoos.”

Honey bites back a giggle. Once a southern mother, always a southern mother. “He did have tattoos,” she confirms.

“You two would get along,” Vera suggests, not so subtly casting a glance at the leafy vines that crawl up Honey’s arm.

Honey goes quiet, glaring at Vera. She has worked to try and get the ladies to stop commenting on her body and habits over the past few years, but the ladies are stubborn and traditional in most senses.

“How long will they be here? Or were they just stopping through?” Gillian asks.

“They’ll be here all summer, so I’m sure we’ll get our fill of them.” With that, Honey effectively ends her role in the conversation. She returns to the counter and opens her book, pretending to read it.

She knew the ladies would have caught wind of the men’s arrival by now and would want to discuss it. She knew that the ladies would be interested in setting her up with one of these new arrivals. They were cute, she’d give them that. At a glance, any of the three could have been nice company at a brewery, but Honey wasn’t looking. She was perfectly content with finding herself and making her own life, even if it meant that she wasn’t finding a husband like most women in Litchton wanted her to do.

The other thing was this: Trevor hadn’t made the best first impression. He bumped into her, then startled her, then told her some story about business partners or colleagues that definitely was not true, and he was from California. He’s a yuppie, a hipster who probably enjoys the bustle of Los Angeles and can’t handle the slow, satisfying life of a small town. To her estimate, Trevor has got a week before he leaves Litchton for something more glamorous and fast-paced.

The ladies relay the news to Bea when she finally shows up for her shift, a travel mug of coffee in hand from which she sips throughout each tantalizing detail of Scarlett’s retelling. Upon Honey’s information, Bea’s eyes flicker knowingly toward the counter and Honey just shrugs. Bea’s eyes then narrow, accompanying a questioning tilt of her head. Honey shakes her head at that, and Bea lets it go.

“Well, I heard the reason that Mr. Mayes wasn’t at church last week wasn’t his hip acting up,” Bea says to the ladies when it’s her turn. That starts a whole new tangent for the knitting club, one that will keep them occupied and in their seats for a number of minutes. It gives Honey the time to slip into the back and cut up one of the peaches that she brought from home to snack on during work. 

The ladies leave The Reading Nook about an hour after Bea’s arrival, leaving the store empty except for the two girls and floaters looking for their next novel.

Bea leans against the counter with a smug smile, blinking innocently at Honey. 

“What do you really think about them?” She asks.

“I think they’re trouble,” Honey says. “They didn’t seem on the same page about their jobs, they don’t know anything about living in a small town, they travel a lot, and I think I saw one of them carrying a 48-pack of beer.”

“Are they cute?”

Honey fixes Bea with a stare that could put a stop to anyone else’s questions. Unfortunately, Bea is immune to Honey’s intimidation tactics and her sarcastic jabs. She sees right through them. Honey’s silence is another thing she sees through.

“Interesting.” She draws herself up to her full height. 

“I think you would find them cute,” Honey says.

Bea hums. “You can’t backtrack now. You said enough without saying anything at all.” She crosses her arms over her chest then leans back down onto the counter. “So, tell me, Honeybear,” she muses. Fortunately, she changes the topic. “Did you get my strawberries from the stand, or were you too enthralled by the pretty boy in front of you?”

“He wasn’t pretty.”

“Sure he wasn’t.”

Honey scoffs, then leaves to the back to grab the basket of strawberries. She does so carefully, not touching the strawberries in case she breaks out in hives like she did last time. Bea swears that more exposure to the fruit would “cure” her allergy, but Honey only picks up the baskets to humor her. Honey doesn’t think she’s missing out on much, being allergic to strawberries. It’s her peaches that she would miss, and the blackberry pie that Ada makes when her vines turn ripe. That’s something to look forward to– blackberry season is starting and Ada could show up with a pie any day now.

The day continues slowly, with Ada making an appearance to close down the shop with the girls and help unpack a new shipment of books. After they’re done, Honey and Bea head to their respective homes.

Honey curls up with her book in her bed and listens to some music before the soft noise of the background and the comfort of her blanket draws her to her sleep.

3:90 – TREVOR

They have to go to the hardware store today. 

Yesterday, the boys wasted the day, sleeping later than they have in weeks. They ate a late breakfast, which turned into their lunch. They played pool on the pool table, ping and beer pong on the foldable table, and sunbathed out on the porch. Cole watched lazily as Trevor and Jack tried to outline half of a rink in chalk on the cement slab. They never finished the other half of the rink.

Today, they have to go get some wood and tools to make the rink into a 3D structure so the pucks don’t go flying into the woods when they shoot them. Trevor and Cole are the ones who are supposed to go to the store– Jack has decided to stay behind and wait for Quinn and Luke if they show up while the other boys are at the store. 

A convenient excuse, even though the goons are planning to show up today. Trevor expects the brothers to try and weasel their way out of working on the rink, claiming that they’re too tired from travel or they need more time to unpack. The thing is, the boys are flying into Charlotte and renting a car for the summer so that there will be two at the house, so they’re only driving for like an hour compared to Trevor’s eleven. They have no right to be complaining, but they will likely enact a vote and outweigh Cole and Trevor because if the Hughes are anything, it’s lazy and loyal to each others’ laziness.

They’re very driven, but only when they choose to work. When it comes to hockey, they’ll work all day. When it comes to creating the hockey rink or putting together equipment, they would much rather watch. Jim spoiled them that way– he was always the builder of the family and the boys were left to go do whatever they wanted as long as they weren’t annoying their father.

Trevor and Cole put off the trip as long as they can, hoping that maybe the Hughes brothers will show up early and they can force them to go to the store before they can even get out of the car. 

When the clock hits two, Trevor decides that the waiting is useless. They could’ve done so much during the day instead of sitting around waiting, but no. He was lucky enough to sit around and do nothing all day and watch stupid daytime TV with Cole while Jack read his texts with his brothers out loud.

The hardware store would be heaven compared to this.

He leaves without Cole at first, driving slowly down the driveway until he sees Cole’s figure run out of the house and after the car. Trevor can imagine what he’s saying as he yells after the vehicle– something about not being left with Jack in case the other Hugheses show up, something about how Trevor is a dick. 

They follow the one road on the mountain up to the strip where all the stores are. The hardware store is just a few doors down from the grocery store, so they park in the same parking lot.

Cole and Trevor walk side by side, Cole’s eyes on his phone as they walk while Trevor takes in the brick walkway beneath them. Names are etched on some of the bricks– Jude Doyle, Frederick Lawson, Ansley Hood… Grandma. Trevor has seen stuff like this before, but there’s something different about these names being etched on the bricks of this small town. Everyone probably knew these people, or knew someone who knew them, when they died. It’s so personal.

When they reach the hardware store, Trevor holds the door open for a man leaving. They give each other a curt nod, just a passing glance. Trevor sees absolutely no recognition in his eyes and comments on it. Cole doesn’t care, and says so. Trevor punches his shoulder.

“Welcome in,” the elderly woman at the counter greets. “What are you boys looking for?”

“Hi,” Cole replies, a charming smile on his face. “Could you point me towards the power tools? I can find my way from there.”

The woman smiles and points toward the back of the store. “They’re on the left, sweetie.” She turns to Trevor. “And what about you?”

“We’ll be needing some plywood,” Trevor says. “We’re building a little roller rink.”

“Oh, how fun!” The lady, named Vera if her nametag has any truth to it, claps her hands. “How much do you need, dear?”

“How much have you got?” Trevor asks. 

Vera waves her hand. “I don’t know. I’ll call Earl, he’ll send you off with what you need.” She turns and takes a breath before shouting the man’s name. Trevor’s heard that shout before– his grandmother used to do the same thing with his grandfather. 

The balding, age-spotted man appears at the door to the back of the shop. “I done told ya I have my hearing aids in, woman,” Earl grumbles to his wife, fond and mean and familiar in the way that only a couple who has been married for fifty years can be. 

Vera smacks Earl’s arm as he ambles by her. Earl pulls his arm away and puts another foot between them. 

“What do you need, young man?” Earl asks.

“Lots of wood,” Trevor says. “A couple of sheets of plywood and some 2x4s, maybe?”

“Boy, you do not think I have all’a that laying around.” Earl fixes Trevor with a stink-eye. 

“Don’t you tell him that!” Vera chimes in. “I know you’ve got plenty of wood out back because you bought all of it and never finished our damn basement.”

“I’m going to finish it!”

“Earl, you’ve been saying that for thirty years, you ain’t never finishing the basement.”

Trevor wants to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. He wants to laugh at this domestic argument and how unreal it is that it’s unfolding in front of him. Instead, he clears his throat. “Excuse me,” he interrupts gently. “I don’t know if I want thirty year old wood for this. We’ll be hitting pucks off the boards all day and I’d like to keep the pucks inside the rink, please.”

“You’re a hockey boy?” Earl questions with a raised brow. When Trevor nods, he lets out a grunt. Trevor can’t tell what that means. Nonetheless, he waves Trevor to follow him into the back.

Trevor squeezes past Vera– she pinches his butt, he thinks– and catches a glimpse of her knitting under the counter when he walks by. She’s knitting something green. It’s too bundled up for him to tell what it is, though. Maybe he’ll ask later.

When he enters the back room, Earl gestures around. “Take your pick of the wood and make a pile over there–” he points to the corner– “and you can drive around back and we can put the wood in your truck there.”

“Oh, I didn’t drive a truck down,” Trevor says before he can help it. Earl makes a face. “But my friend and I can carry the piles ourselves to the car, don’t worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Earl gripes, shuffling away to sit at a bench with a circular saw and a half finished product on the table. 

Trevor sifts through the wood, all neatly arranged into piles of similar sizes– but labeled completely wrong. Trevor thinks that Earl might’ve refused to follow Vera’s labels when she first put them up in the shop, but realized that they’re more helpful than harmful. He’s just petty enough of an old man to ignore the labels, but follow the categorization.

Trevor ends up with a pile of ten sheets of plywood– four that are as long as lunch tables, and six that are just squares. Those will go behind the goals, while the long ones will go around the sides of the slab. He picks up a couple of 2x4s, just in case he needs them, and throws them on the pile with a clatter.

“I’m going to go grab my buddy,” Trevor says to Earl.

Earl grunts, but doesn’t budge. He also doesn’t look up from his station.

Cole is chatting up Vera when Trevor rejoins them. He’s leaning over the edge of the counter, asking about Vera’s knitting and her grandchildren. He’s got a bag of goodies next to him– powertools and nails, Trevor assumes. 

“Coley, come help me,” Trevor interrupts.

“No manners, this guy,” Cole says to Vera, scoffing and pointing his thumb at Trevor with a shake of his head. 

“Well, don’t keep the bear waiting,” Vera replies. Trevor watches her pinch Cole’s ass as he passes, but Cole just laughs and bats her hand away.

Fucking annoying. Always so good with the grandparents.

“The bear?” Trevor asks once Vera is out of earshot. “Is that me?”

Cole smirks. “We’ve got nicknames.”

Earl looks up when they reenter the back. He lets out a laugh, just a short bark. “This is your friend who’s going to help you carry all that wood?”

As the smirk falls off Cole’s face, Trevor picks it up.

“I can carry some wood,” Cole insists. “Probably all of it. I’m stronger than Z is, anyway.”

Earl’s gaze slides over to Trevor. “Z,” he repeats. “I hope you don’t stick with that one.”

Trevor laughs. “You sound like–” he cuts himself off. He never did learn her name, anyway. What’s it to this old man, who he sounds like?

Cole picks up on it though. “Like who, Z?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

Trevor glares at him. 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who I sound like and I don’t want to hear your smug little bickering,” Earl admonishes. “Get your wood and get outta my shop.”

Trevor laughs in Cole’s face, then pushes him over towards the pile of wood. “Go on, strong man.”

Cole makes like he’s going to throw a punch at Trevor– Trevor doesn’t flinch, because he hasn’t fallen for that since their first stint on the US team– and puffs up his chest before deciding to pick up the long pieces of wood.

“Compensating for something?” Trevor asks.

“Go fuck yourself,” Cole replies cheerfully, turning on his heel and swinging the wood around with him, hoping to hit Trevor in the stomach. Trevor jumps away.

He picks up the rest of the wood and follows Cole out of the shop, bidding Earl a quiet farewell.

Earl grunts.

Trevor nods to himself, not surprised by the response. Vera is much more sad to see them go, gushing over how strong they are and telling them to come back soon. 

“What’s your nickname?” Trevor asks suddenly, as they load the wood into the back of the car.

Cole grins, crooked and smug. “Sweetie.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not. I’m a real hit with the ladies.”

“Yeah, you’re a real fucking hit with the married seventy year olds,” Trevor scoffs. “Don’t fucking talk to me, dude.”

Cole laughs, tossing his head back. He looks over Trevor’s shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your girl?”

Trevor spins around. “Where?” He asks, looking to his left and right. 

When Cole starts cackling behind him, Trevor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, dude.”

“Bear, you wouldn’t know what to do without me.” Cole pats Trevor on the chest before rounding the car, settling in the passenger seat.

“Fucking passenger princess,” Trevor seethes. 

“You wish you were me.”

“I fucking don’t.”

“The more fucks you say, the more fucks you give.”

“Fuck off.”

They drive back to the house in silence, Trevor’s knuckles white as he deliberates driving off the mountain and taking Cole with him. There are pros, certainly, the top one being that Cole would no longer be part of this vacation. The cons, unfortunately, outweigh the pros: without Cole, Trevor would be alone with the Hughes brothers all summer, except for the occasional visiting savior.

Quinn and Luke have arrived by the time the duo returns to the mountain house. They brought with them another SUV, this one only slightly bigger than Trevor’s vehicle. It’s got a third row of seats, but it’s cramped– they’ll definitely have to take both cars down to Charlotte when they go to practice. Because of the limited trunk space in Quinn’s rental car, Trevor’s car will likely end up being the gear car. 

Which is lucky, because who wouldn’t want to spend three hours total in the car with smelly gear while the other car gets to have fun and smell nice?

On second thought, the time alone might be good for Trevor. He loves his friends, he really does, but it’s hard to be around them for so long. He’s lucky that they’re all on different teams, that they keep up when they can, and that it’s not constant. Jack can’t escape his brothers, especially not Luke, but Trevor can escape all three of them.

He spends the evening building the outdoor rink, mostly alone. Quinn helps a little bit, mostly chalking up the lines on the remaining half of the slab. He holds the wood for Trevor while he screws some nails into the pieces to keep them in place. They work mostly in silence, as they often do. Trevor is itching to talk with Quinn, see how he is, but he knows that Quinn is a man of few words. He also knows that Quinn is quick to say that Trevor talks too much. They’re at the point in their relationship where Trevor lets Quinn dictate how much they speak.

Luke tries to cook dinner, he does. Trevor can’t fault him for trying. Jack had to jump in to save them from burnt steaks and soggy vegetables, and even if he can’t salvage everything, he does a pretty good job. Luke apologizes and does the dishes. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, falling asleep on the couch during the movie they picked out, and Quinn wakes Luke like a good big brother and shoos him to bed. 

It’s more calm than the lake house, Trevor thinks. They’re not really doing anything differently, are they? And yet, here they are, sitting together in calm silence. They’re drinking bottled beer and laughing over the same jokes they’ve heard a million times, reminiscing about summers past and what they’ll do this summer. Quinn wishes for a lake. Jack tells him they’ll find one.

Trevor goes to bed when the movie ends, frogs croaking past his bedroom window in the depths of the night.

4:90 – HONEY

It’s a Thursday, so Honey gets to sleep in until nine. Sleeping in until nine means that she really wakes up at eight, because she just can’t sleep in late after working at the bookstore for five years now. She sits on her couch on Thursday mornings and reads. She does the crossword in the Litchton Local, the newspaper that comes out weekly on Wednesdays. 

There’s an immeasurable stillness in the mountains.

Honey noticed it the first time she came up to this house as a child. Everything moves, like the bugs outside and the leaves on the trees, but everything is so still. Like it’s being held in place by something bigger. She knows the feeling well, but it’s comforting here. 

At home, it was uniforms and piano lessons after school. She loves piano, even still, but there was something so crushing about the weight of her perfect posture on that bench when there was all the pressure of beauty breathing down her neck.

Home, Honey thinks again, and laughs. 

In the mountains, all of the beauty of the world is there and present and taking up space– but it’s not forced. It’s not the idealized version of everything. It just is.

And everything is so green, especially on a rainy day like this. Honey thinks there’s something sacred about the greenness of the mountains, but it’s the melancholic side of divine that leaves you waiting for another whisper or breath in the wind that never comes.

She used to have a piano that she could play in the mornings. She toted it to the antique store down the road when she made the mountain home hers. Sometimes, she wonders why she did that and regrets it, staring at the dents on the floor where its legs used to stand.

But then she remembers that she’s thinking about the past again and she shakes herself out of it. Five years later, but it’s hard to forget all of the things you grew up knowing.

Honey picks Bea up on the way to work, relishing in the girl’s consistent lateness because it allows her the chance to catch up with her friend. They see each other every day, yes, but the bookstore isn’t suited for some topics.

Such as Bea’s current woes:

“I’ve run out of dating app men,” she complains.

Honey bites back a smile. “Did you run out, or did you just swipe left on all of them?” She asks knowingly.

Bea cuts her eyes at Honey. “All the ones I swiped left on are ugly,” she says. “I can promise you that.”

“Is anyone good-looking in Litchton, Bea?”

Bea’s silence speaks for itself.

Honey laughs, her hair whipping around her face in the breeze from the rolled-down windows of her car.

“If I had known you were dragging me to the Ugly Capital of the World, I wouldn’t have come with you,” Bea announces, like it matters. She’s a liar. She wouldn’t have let Honey leave their hometown without her, no matter where she was going.

“You couldn’t turn it down, you had to come,” Honey replies. “Especially since they asked you to be Mayor.”

Bea gasps, affronted. She stares at Honey, her jaw hanging open. “Are you mad at me? Be honest.” She pouts, her voice whiny.

“Oh my God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay, well, stop being a cunt, please,” Bea sasses. If Honey were more annoyed, she’d reach out and slap Bea’s arm for the attitude. “We have to go to work and I need to put all my focus into pretending to like you.”

“Yeah, because it’s so hard to like me,” Honey says. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, monotone and grating. 

“Yeah, it is, you suck.” Bea flips her hair over her shoulder, digging through her bag to find her Walmart lip gloss. She smears the cherry flavored gloss over her lips and puckers up, batting her eyelashes at Honey exaggeratedly. “Gimme a kiss.”

“No.” Honey pulls up to The Reading Nook and parks on the street in front of the building, parallel parking with the practiced ease of someone who’s been dealing with nothing but parallel parking (except in the grocery store and church parking lots) for the last five years.

“Ugh, one day you’ll kiss me,” Bea mutters, staring forlornly out the window. 

Honey rolls her eyes. “Bea, we’ve already kissed. You weren’t that good and I didn’t like your lip gloss then, either.”

Bea cringes. “That was like ten years ago, Hon. Things have changed since then. Number one, I’m not in middle school. Number two, I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve had sex since then. Number three, you know it wouldn’t mean anything. I want you to try my lip gloss so bad, come on.”

Honey stares. Bea’s got a stupid smile on her face, teasing and annoying. They hold each other’s eyes for too long before Honey speaks. 

“You’re insufferable, did you know that?”

Bea nods. “You are so easy to work up.”

Bea and Honey exit the car at the same time and enter the store through the front, the bell jingling behind them. Ada greets them from behind the counter, teasing Bea for being late again and threatening to cut her pay. She never will, never. Bea is too good with the kids, too happy to talk to mothers, and just dry enough to understand the miserly old man that walks through the door looking for a new World War I book. 

In the back, Ada has a bowl of biscuits and jam that Honey reheats and eats over the counter before she starts her day. 

She’s supposed to reshelve some books from their Borrow Before You Buy section, the part of the store that acts as the town’s public library. It’s a small task. The pile of books that were returned yesterday is less than a hundred. A good portion of the books are little kid chapter books, the kind you could finish in an hour as an adult because the font is so big and there are full-page pictures twice a chapter. 

Bea has to read to the kids at noon– some of the mothers bring snacks, like the end of a youth soccer game. It’s like a potluck lunch and the kids love Bea. Most weeks, it’s just her, but since it’s summer, she’s starting to bring in guest readers. Honey refuses to do it every time. Well, that’s not true– she acts as guest reader once a summer, right before school starts. It’s her one moment of the year. 

As she’s restocking the books, Honey hears the bell twinkle with each new customer that walks in. She’s grown used to the noise over the years, so it doesn’t draw her eye anymore.

What does draw her eye, however, is the blunt tap on her shoulder. When she turns around, Bea is blinking innocently at her– no doubt the offending hand in this scenario– with Trevor by her side.

“I was just talking to Trevor here, Honey,” Bea says. “And he was wondering if we had any books that a man his age might like. I thought maybe you should talk to him.”

Honey glares at Bea, purposefully obvious about it so that Trevor sees. What does she know about book recommendations for a man in his twenties? He probably wants some shit sports biography, or worse– he’s embracing his inner old man and he’s ready to venture into the world of World War I non-fiction. Either way, book recommendations are Bea’s thing, not Honey’s. She just stocks the books, builds the shelves, and bonds with the old ladies who come in on Tuesdays.

Bea shrugs with a coy little smile– Honey wishes she could slap it off of her face– and disappears behind the stacks. Honey can tell that she’s still listening from a few feet away, always nosy and overly interested in Honey’s exploits. If she can’t indulge in her own, she’s happy to butt in on Honey’s.

“Trevor,” Honey says, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t wear a bra today. She doesn’t trust him not to look. She also doesn’t trust her nipples not to peak in the cold air. 

“Is Honey your real name?” Trevor asks. 

She balks at him. “What is it with you and my name?”

Honey expects Trevor to back down, to act timid and normal and earnest like he did at the fruit stand on Monday. She expects him to apologize, yet again, for another inadvertent mistake that Trevor seemed unable to avoid. It’s because he doesn’t think– he just says the words as they come to mind, hoping that the sentence comes out fully formed and making sense.

And yet, he doesn’t.

“Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come,” is what Trevor answers. 

Honey gathers her wit quickly, scrambling to find a response to Trevor’s bold statement. She wants something clever, something to turn him down, something to tell him that he’s a cocky prick for saying such a thing while she’s at work, but she comes up with none of the above. Instead, she settles for: “It’s a nickname.”

A smirk tugs at Trevor’s lips and Honey wants to reach out and strangle him. He’s smirking because he thinks he bested her– bested her– and that he’s got the upper hand.

“What kind of book are you looking for, Trevor?” Honey changes the subject, trying to get back on task. She turns, continues restocking the Borrow Before You Buy shelves. 

“I’m not sure, Honey,” he replies, really milking his use of her name. “What kind of books do you think I’d like?”

She glances at him, looks him up and down. She tamps down a smile and says in a curt, monotone voice. “Guides on how to make the best of your business trip.”

Trevor laughs at that, more of a shake of his shoulders than a real laugh. “You’re funny, Honey.”

Honey raises her eyebrows and waits for him to continue.

“Hey, that rhymed. Maybe a book of poetry? I need to study my craft if I’m going to be waxing poems about you.”

He’s bold, she thinks. He’s really bold, much more sure of himself than he was on Monday. He’s much more confident, a sharp 180º from where he was the other day.

“Why don’t you keep your waxes to yourself?” Honey asks.

“How can I?”

She turns to him, planting a hand on her hip. “Don’t you have something to do today other than bother me at my bookstore? You don’t even know me. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to get a book. I’m not trying to bother you, I’m just trying to make conversation.” Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets and has the decency to look ashamed, even if it’s just for a split second and just to see if Honey will crumble. She knows his type. She’s seen them before.

“You’re flirting with me,” Honey accuses. “Not making conversation.” She puts air quotes around the last two words.

Trevor smiles. “You caught me,” he says simply, no shame evident in his voice. The smile stays on his lips as he and Honey look at each other. He raises his eyebrows and she takes it as a challenge.

“I’m not interested, Trevor.”

“I could show you a good time, Honey.”

“In Litchton?”

“Don’t you hear how good it sounds when I say your name? It’s like we’ve been hooking up for ages and I’ve got a special little name for you.”

“A name that everyone else uses.”

“It’s special to me.”

“How about a self-help book?”

Trevor clutches at his chest, jaw dropping in fake-misery. “You think I need help?”

“If you’re not going to buy a book, then you need to leave me alone.” Honey places the last book in her stack on the shelf and looks at Trevor expectantly. The silence sits between them, suspended for a moment.

“Do you have any books about space?” He asks. 

Honey notices that his voice is softer, a little more genuine. She examines his features, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She waits for the joke about not wanting space from her, needing her in his orbit, or whatever. It doesn’t come. She scans his figure one last time, realizing that her brow is furrowed and she’s chewing on the inside of her bottom lip as she does so. She smoothens her expression, hoping Trevor didn’t pick up on her calculating stare.

“How do you feel about creative nonfiction?” Honey asks.

Trevor scrunches his nose.

“Memoirs, personal histories, stuff like that,” Honey supplies. She softens her voice to match his tone. She almost feels a little shy. “We only have one book about space that I’ve read and it’s creative nonfiction, but it’s really good.” Quieter, then: “I liked it.”

Trevor nods, a little hesitant. This is the Trevor she met on Monday. “Okay.”

“Follow me.” Honey leads him to the nonfiction section, to the rows of books whose authors bear a last name that starts with ‘D.’ She runs her fingers along the titles of the books at the height of her chest while scanning the upper shelves. “It’s there,” she says, pointing to the row just out of her reach. “It’s by ‘Dean.’” She looks down, around her on the floor. “Where’s my step ladder…?”

“I can reach it,” Trevor says, stepping forward. He places a hand on the small of Honey’s back and reaches up, fingers hesitating as he searches for the right book. When he finds the spine bearing Dean’s name, he bounces up on his tiptoes for just a second to slide the book from its position on the shelf. 

Honey has never been more aware of a hand in her life. His touch is light, just a passing glance really, but it weighs on her. It’s like she’s standing in quicksand and she waited too long to try and get out.

He’s so close to her when he stands flat on his feet again. He’s got the book in one hand and his other still rests on Honey’s back.

She steps away.

His eyes follow her, but instead of saying anything, he just flips the book over in his hand. He reads the back cover and as he does so, Honey puts more space between them. She takes a breath, trying to stay quiet, and grounds herself.

“Is it really any good?” Trevor asks. “Do I have to buy it?”

“Yes, and, um.” Honey throws a look over her shoulder. She lost track of Bea while she and Trevor went to find this book. Fuck, her nosey best friend could be anywhere. “You can borrow it. We just usually give people a week or so to bring it back, and if you don’t, we track you down.”

“Track me down?” Trevor asks, chuckling. 

“Yeah.” Honey nods. “Small town. Everybody knows everybody, or knows somebody who knows everybody.”

“Stalking me, Honey?” Trevor teases.

“We’ve met twice, and both times it was because you came up to me. If anyone is the stalker here, it’s you.”

Trevor turns the book over in his hand again, looking down to avoid Honey’s gaze. “Leaving Orbit, huh?” He bites his lip and takes in the sight of Honey in front of him. He taps the book with his other hand. “I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”

“I know it’s good. I read it.”

“Baby, if you knew good, you’d be all over me.”

Honey scoffs. “Alright, fun’s over. Get out of here, Trevor.” She shoos him away, practically pushing him out of the shop. She sticks her tongue out at him through the glass after closing the door behind him. She watches him laugh, run his hands through his hair, and turn away.

‘Zegras’ is written in bold letters across his back, the number 11 in the center of his t-shirt. The detail catches Honey’s eye as she watches him walk away, down the street towards a car with a New York license plate that looks far too perfect and expensive to belong in Litchton. She bites the inside of her lip again, pondering. If anyone asks, she doesn’t care, but Trevor’s different than anyone she’s ever met. She wonders why.

But no, she doesn’t care.

Bea does.

“He plays hockey,” Bea announces, revealing herself. “He’s good, too. NHL. He was a top ten pick when he was drafted.”

Honey just nods. Twice. That’s all she needs. They’re small movements and she’s still chewing on her lip.

“What did he get?”

Honey clears her throat. “Just the, uh, Dean book about space.”

Honey can practically hear the face Bea makes behind her back. “You think he’ll enjoy that?” Bea asks. “It’s really personal.”

“It was the only book I could think of,” Honey replies with a shrug. She finally turns around to face Bea. “You’ve got to stop spying on me. I know you listened to our whole conversation.”

Bea pouts and stomps her foot, the sound echoing along the stacks around them. “How could I not?” She demands. “‘Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come?’ Honey, girl. Be serious.”

“Bea, you know I’m not looking for that right now.”

“You’re never fucking looking for that,” Bea hisses, pinching Honey’s wrist until she flinches away. “It’s falling into your lap and you’re pushing it out the door! What’s wrong with you?”

Honey glares at her with a tilted head. 

Bea relents. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass,” she threatens. “You can’t be a spinstery old maid forever, Honeybear. They’re only here for the summer. Maybe you should embrace it.”

“He’ll be gone within the week.”

Bea sighs. “Whatever you say.”

5:90 – TREVOR

“We need to throw a party,” Trevor says over breakfast.

“Why?” Luke asks, voice scratchy from lack of use. He yawns and runs his fingers through his hair, further messing up his already messy curls. He’s not wearing a shirt– none of them are– and Trevor is astounded by how pale Luke is. 

“We need to get you outside more,” Trevor mumbles, then clears his throat and continues speaking. “It’s like a housewarming thing.”

Unimpressed, Cole rolls his eyes. “Who do you want to invite?” He asks.

Trevor pauses, side-eying his friend. “Nobody,” he deflects. 

Quinn snorts, the spoon he’s using for his cereal clinking against the side of his bowl. “Not much of a party.”

“He wants to invite the girl that he met the other day,” Jack says, butting into the conversation. 

Luke frowns. “What girl?”

“Some townie that he met at the fruit stand when we went to the grocery store,” Jack explains. “He doesn’t know her name.”

“Her name is Honey, actually,” Trevor interrupts. 

The table stills. Each of the boys’ eyes turn towards Trevor and he suddenly feels like an ant under a child’s magnifying glass, boiling under the glare.

Cole pushes up an invisible pair of glasses and raises a finger, pursing his lips. “Actually,” he mocks, then drops the tone. “How do you know her name, Z?”

Trevor shrugs noncommittally. “I ran into her when I went into town yesterday.”

“Oh, when you were supposed to pick up laundry detergent and you came back with a book instead?” Cole asks. “That makes sense, much more sense than what Luke said.”

Trevor blanches. “What did Luke say?”

Jack snickers.

Trevor turns to Luke. “What did you say?”

Quinn smiles and hides his face, taking a large mouthful of his cereal to leave Luke hanging if he asked for help.

Luke flushes. “I mean, you know… that maybe you confused the two.”

“How the fuck would I confuse laundry detergent with a book?” Trevor snaps. “They’re two completely different things, fuckface.”

Luke throws his hands up in surrender. “We were just thinking of reasons why you might’ve come back without the one thing we needed.”

Trevor looks around the table. “You guys are such assholes.”

“Bro, you’re the one that forgot laundry detergent because you were too busy chatting up some chick,” Jack defends the group. “Now we can’t even do our laundry.”

“If it’s so fucking important to you, go get the detergent yourself!”

A smile breaks out on Jack’s face. “Maybe I will,” he says, his voice shit-eating. “I might need to grab a book for myself, too.”

Trevor’s anger increases tenfold, for no fucking reason. “The fuck you do,” he snaps. “You don’t even know how to read.”

Jack’s face twists, his emotions finally aligning with Trevor’s own. “Fuck you, dude. You know I can read, I just don’t like to.”

Trevor scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I just want to have a party,” he mutters, stabbing at his eggs with his fork. 

The boys fall into silence, finishing their breakfasts. Trevor pouts, frustrated that the boys weren’t immediately on board with his idea for a party. 

If they were in Michigan, the Hughes brothers would have the front door of the house unlocked past 10pm. The people they know from the golf course, from the lake, from the pickleball courts would all be pouring through the doorway and into the party. Everyone knows that on Saturday nights, the Hughes brothers invite people over and they have a big bonfire. Apparently, that only applies in Michigan.

Trevor leaves the breakfast table first, to jeers from the other boys about being pouty and bitchy for not getting his way. Trevor knows that he’s going to invite Honey and her friend– Bee? Bea? B?– over tomorrow night no matter what the goons say. There’s not much to do in Litchton, he knows that, so he doesn’t want to leave the girls out. Otherwise, they might just sit at home all night. Trevor can’t have that.

Obviously, that’s his only motive. He would never have any other reason to invite Honey and Bea over to the house at night. Never.

Maybe one other reason.

But that’s irrelevant. 

He spends the morning outside, using the extra wood from Earl to build a fire pit in the half-circle clearing near the edge of the forest. When they were younger, Trevor’s sister might’ve thought this area was where the fairies lived, and maybe she would have built them a house. He wonders briefly if Honey was the same way when she was a child, when she was growing up in rural Litchton with nothing else to do but imagine.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know if Honey grew up here. She seems so intimately integrated into the town that she has to be from here, has to have grown up here. She must know all the town secrets and all the town gossip and fuck, Trevor wants to know all of that and more. 

He can’t explain the feeling he has about Honey. He’s just… drawn to her. It doesn’t make sense– he doesn’t know her. He’s barely met her. She did not exist in his life a week ago and yet, she’s popping up in his thoughts like they’ve known each other for years. Like they’ve been inseparable for years. When he thinks about it, he decides that Honey is like one of the girls he would have met in elementary school in Bedford. Honey is one of the girls that he would have grown up with, one of the neighbor girls from down the street with whom he rode his bike on hot summer days. 

She’s got a hometown charm feel to her. Trevor has to see her again.

He finishes building the wooden part of the fire pit before realizing how stupid it was to build the pit out of wood. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head, though, because it’s an excuse to go see her, to invite her to his party. He can go to the hardware store on the way, pick up some stone and gravel to line the wood, protect it from catching flame. He can pick up some firewood from the grocery store for their first fire and pick up the laundry detergent he forgot yesterday. Jack won’t be so annoying then.

Trevor doesn’t bother telling the boys where he’s going– he just gets in the car and drives away. 

It takes all of fifteen minutes to make his way to the bookstore. It’s still early, so he doesn’t even know if it’s open yet. Trevor and the boys are so used to waking up early for hockey that they’ve been up for about two hours and the whole day is still ahead of them.

When Trevor pulls at the front door of The Reading Nook, it doesn’t swing open the way it did yesterday. He knows the doors are easy on their hinges, considering how easily Honey slammed the door behind him yesterday, but today, the wood is barely budging. He knocks on the door, loud. 

Honey’s friend’s head peeks out from behind a stack, confusion written all over her expression. Trevor waves at her, gesturing at the door. She laughs, then approaches the door. She points down at the ‘Closed’ sign hanging near the handle.

Trevor tilts his head, unimpressed. “I have to talk to you,” he says through the glass.

Bea unlocks the door and opens it with a snorted laugh. “What’s up, Trevor? Honey’s not here yet.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

Bea steps aside and lets him into the store. “You want her.”

Trevor sputters at her honesty. “I don’t know her.”

“You want her,” Bea repeats with a nod and a knowing smile. “And you want to know how to get her.”

“Well, yes,” Trevor says. “But also, no. I wanted to invite you– both, you both– to a party tomorrow night.”

Bea smiles. She crosses her arms over her chest. “You want my best friend and all I get is some measly party? Come on, Trevor. What’s in it for me?”

Trevor thinks for a minute. “What do you want?”

Bea laughs. She pokes her tongue into her cheek and looks expectantly at Trevor.

“Whoa,” Trevor says, taking a step back. “That’s really… forward, but–”

“I don’t want you, Trevor,” Bea scoffs. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “So self-centered, Honey was right about that. But, I’ll help you get her and I’ll make sure we make it to your party if you give me what I do want.”

Trevor hums, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want?”

Bea smiles, devilish and conniving. “The dating pool up here is pretty dry, and I hear you’ve got a few friends.”

Trevor nods.

Bea blinks at him. “Do you have any pictures of these friends? I would’ve looked you up, but Honey and I swore off Instagram years ago.”

That makes sense. That’s why he couldn’t find Honey when he looked her up last night– not that he had much to go off of. Still, “Honey Litchton NC” didn’t reveal many results.

Trevor fumbles with his phone, showing her a picture of the group from last summer. He watches her fingers pinch and zoom in on the picture, on each individual. She keeps her expression neutral, a poker face that impresses Trevor. She hums, thoughts racing behind her eyes too quick for Trevor to understand them. 

“We’ll come to your party,” Bea says simply, handing the phone back to Trevor. She snatches it back at the last second. “Wait,” she says, and clicks around for a second. 

Trevor waits, then she hands the phone back. On the screen is a contact page for ‘Bea McLean.’ 

“It’s pronounced like McLane,” Bea tells Trevor. “Since you’re so obsessed with names.”

“Okay,” Trevor cuts her off with a sarcastic nod. 

Bea laughs. “Don’t get sassy with me, I have all the power here.”

“Yeah, but I have your number,” Trevor flaunts.

“I could just block you, easily,” Bea points out. “Then where would you be?”

Wisely, Trevor bites his tongue. After a deep breath, he asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Now get out, Honey’s supposed to get here soon and I don’t want her seeing you. She’s annoyingly on time. She’ll know we’re in cahoots.” Bea, much like her best friend did yesterday, pushes Trevor to the door and shoves him through it. She slams it behind him, flipping the sign so it says ‘Open’ instead, and waving Trevor off with a blown kiss.

she’s a flirt, Trevor thinks. those guys will not survive her for a second.

He doesn’t know which boy she has her eye on, but it doesn’t matter. Quinn’s too quiet for her, Luke is too awkward, Jack is too cocky, and Cole is too… short. 

Trevor snorts at the insult, laughing to himself. He heads to the grocery store, where he parked, and purchases two gallon bottles of laundry detergent and a Sharpie. He writes “JACK” on one and puts them both in the trunk of the car. Then, he walks to the hardware store. 

“Bear!” Vera greets from behind the counter, joints creaking as she moves from her chair behind the counter to give Trevor a hug. 

“Oh, Vera, you don’t have to come all the way over here,” Trevor says awkwardly, but hugs the woman back nonetheless.

“Of course I did!” Vera exclaims. “You look so handsome, young man.”

Trevor blushes, shying away from Vera’s examining fingers. She squints at the logo on his chest, one of his shirts from Anaheim. 

“I live in Anaheim,” Trevor explains to the woman, catching her hands in his and holding them securely in front of her body before letting go. “Do you have any stone that I could secure a fire pit with?”

“Yes, baby!” Vera claps and leads him to a section of the store that’s, somehow, even more peculiar than Earl’s workshop. There’s bags of gravel, sure, but it looks like fish food compared to some of the other bags and miscellaneous stones on the shelves. “Pick whatever you’d like. I’ll give you a discount for being so darn cute.”

Trevor chuckles. “I bet you give that to all your customers,” he teases.

“I had a local girl put it in the computer for me after we met you and Sweetie on Wednesday,” Vera teases back, batting her eyelashes. Her cheeks are red with blush, too much blush. “His discount is a little more because I see you’ve changed the body God gave you.”

Trevor follows her eyes to his tattoos. He rubs his opposite hand over them sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.” He tries to smile charmingly. “Maybe I should’ve sent him to do the shopping today, since you like Sweetie so much.” He throws a wink into the mix to punctuate his sentence.

Vera laughs, a twinkling sound.

“Plus, it’d be cheaper for me,” Trevor says, like it’s a scandalous secret.

“I know that’s right!” Vera claps again, waves a hand at Trevor like she’s slapping her knee. She walks off, back to the counter, leaving Trevor to shop for his stones. 

He shops through the stones for about half an hour, choosing his favorites. He settles on a midsize gray stone, one that he can stack and seal with cement. He buys the quick drying cement as well, and carries it all to his car. Vera carries the quick dry cement and giggles when Trevor easily shifts the stones in his grasp when she complains about the bucket being too heavy for an old lady. He picks up the bucket and shifts the stones again, knowing he can carry more than this if he needed to. He swears he hears Vera sigh dreamily behind him as he packs the car up.

Like he said, what’s flirting with a few old ladies?

When he bids her goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, Trevor makes eye contact with Honey in the bookstore window. He grins at her and winks to her for good measure. He thanks Vera for her help while he escorts her back to the store, just for the sake of Honey seeing how selfless he can be. He’s not self-centered, no matter what she told Bea. 

Vera insists that Trevor and “his band of boys” join her and Earl at church that Sunday morning, pledging to introduce them to the other members of the community. Trevor agrees, thinking that being on Vera’s good side might get him even closer to Honey.

Trevor drives back to his home for the summer to find that the boys are playing in the rink he built.

Come to think of it, he’s making a lot of improvements to this property, and the only one who has actually helped is Quinn.

Not self-centered at all.

He deserves a party.

“We’re having a party,” Trevor calls out, carrying his stones toward the fire pit. He dumps his supplies on the ground. “And I invited two girls.” He wipes the dirt and dust from his fingers. “Someone else needs to finish this fire pit because I’m tired of building your shit. C’mon, Quinn.”

He leads the way inside, to grab a beer from the fridge, and Quinn follows after kicking off his skates, eager to avoid the work. The other brothers and Cole are left dumbfounded on the concrete. Jack makes eye contact with the cement mix first, and he smiles. 

They always did love a little project, and maybe they can hide a drawing of a dick in the cement for the owners to find at the end of the summer.

6:90 – HONEY

“Where are we going?” Honey asks. 

Bea has barely crossed over the threshold of Honey’s home before the question falls from her lips. Bea’s been cagey about it all day– just explaining that “we have plans” and that “you’ll enjoy them.” Honey loves her, sure, but this is absurd. She feels like she’s being kidnapped. 

“More like when are we going,” Bea corrects. “Let’s get you an outfit.”

Honey stumbles back, Bea pushing her out of the way. She closes the door behind her friend, following Bea as she stomps up the stairs to Honey’s bedroom. Bea knows Honey’s place as well as she knows her own, a little townhouse off of the main street in town. Honey’s lucky to live a little farther from city center, closer to the magic of the mountains. 

“What kind of plans do we have, at least?” Honey presses. She looks at Bea’s outfit– a jean skirt that falls like an old Poodle skirt and a white bandeau top. It’s sort of see-through– Honey can see the shadow and outline of Bea’s nipples through the skimpy top. “I don’t want to dress like you,” Honey says.

Bea scoffs and turns to Honey. “My plan tonight is to get laid, your plan tonight is to accompany me while I evaluate my prey.” 

Honey pretends to gag. “I hate when you say that.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone to flirt with,” Bea says. 

“So, where are we going tonight? Statesville? Winston?” Honey asks again, hoping Bea will relent since she now knows the purpose of their adventure. 

“Dude, I’m not telling you,” Bea laughs. 

She reaches Honey’s closet and throws the curtain open. She strolls into the closet, looking through Honey’s clothes. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Honey asks, looking down at her athletic shorts and little tank top.

Bea turns around and surveys Honey. “The shirt is fine.” She returns to her task. “Nice tits.”

Honey looks down. It’s a revealing top and she’s not wearing a bra, because it’s a Saturday and she didn’t know they had plans until Bea told her this afternoon. “Maybe not, then.”

Bea glares at Honey out of her peripheral. “But that’s your favorite tank.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to get hit on if I wear this shirt.”

“You’re going to get hit on anyway. Keep the shirt.”

“No, I won’t, because my bitch face will keep most of the guys away.”

“Most of the guys. Which is the whole thing. Those ones will come to me.”

“Ew, you’re going to have a threesome tonight?”

“A threesome?” Bea spins around. “God, no! One at a time for me, thanks. I’m just going to fuck the other ones.”

“Other than who?” Honey asks. “I’m not fucking anyone tonight.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Whatever.” She digs through the closet, finding a long-buried white tennis skirt, the back pleats of the skirt puffy. Honey would never wear something like that, but Bea would– it’s probably Bea’s skirt in the first place. 

“I’m not wearing that,” Honey states.

Bea wrestles her into it– seriously. She tackles Honey onto the bed and literally redresses her, the absurdity of the situation so bizarre that it completely bypasses both girls’ minds. Honey fights Bea the whole time, but Bea comes out on top. She gets her way, Honey wears the skirt, but she’s not happy about it.

“Do I, at least, get to drive?” Honey asks.

“Oh, I was going to force you,” Bea laughs. “You don’t expect me to drive you home, do you? I’ll be… indisposed.”

Honey scowls the rest of the time they spend getting ready– Bea does Honey’s hair and forces Honey to put on some light makeup, just a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and some lipgloss. 

The only problem with Bea and Honey’s relationship is that Bea likes to go out, likes to meet people, likes to have a wild time, whereas Honey prefers to stay in. She’d rather watch a documentary or read a book or be present in nature than packed into a club dancefloor like a sardine in a larger can. Not that that matters to Bea.

By the time they get in the car, Bea is jumping off the walls trying to keep her secret destination to herself. Honey keeps trying to push, hoping for the right moment, but Bea won’t reveal her plans. All she does is direct Honey to the main road and type away at her phone, sending text after text to an unknown recipient, an unknown recipient that Honey is sure they’ll be meeting up with later.

They drive further into the mountains, to Honey’s surprise. They don’t head towards Winston or Statesville. They drive up, farther from town, farther from their neighbors. Near the top of the mountain, the houses are miles apart.

Perfect for a party.

Perfect for a party… thrown by boys in their twenties.

It clicks in Honey’s mind as Bea tells her to turn into the hidden driveway along the curve. “You’re not,” Honey says.

Bea laughs. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to catch on. I thought for sure you would’ve clocked me when we turned left instead of right.”

“Bea,” Honey scolds, her voice sharp. They’re on the driveway now, safe from the curves of the road, and Honey stops the car. She turns to her best friend. “You can’t be serious.”

For all of her audacity, Bea manages to understand the gravity of the situation at hand. It finally clicks in her head, why Honey isn’t happy with her plans, and why she’s even unhappier that she was dragged out here without knowing what she was walking into. She can’t just drop Bea off and leave– she would be abandoning her best friend in a house of strange boys all evening. Bea might be outgoing, but she hasn’t been hurt like Honey.

“It’s not going to be like that,” Bea reassures Honey gently, grabbing Honey’s hand with both of hers. “I promise, they’re not like that.”

“You don’t know them, Bea,” Honey explains. 

“You don’t either,” Bea points out. “And this time, we’re together. The second they do something– I mean it, the second– we’ll leave. I’ll go with you. Fuckery be damned.”

Honey grimaces, rolling her shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension. She takes a deep breath, then squints at Bea. “Are you really going to fuck all of them?” She asks.

Bea grins, knowing that she’s convinced Honey to at least try and hang out with the boys. She’s smug, getting her way once again. She winks at Honey, coy. “Just the ones you don’t want,” she simpers, giggling. “You get your pick of the litter.”

“I don’t want to fuck any of them. I don’t know how many times we have to go over this.”

“So, you don’t want Trevor? ‘Cuz I was thinking–”

“Don’t fuck Trevor,” Honey groans. 

“Why not?” Bea teases.

“You’re better than that, Buzzy,” Honey scoffs with a shake of her head. “He’s weird and a flirt and annoying.”

“I’m weird,” Bea says. “And a flirt. And annoying.” She puckers her lips and blows kisses at Honey as she shifts the car into drive and begins to creep down the driveway again. “Maybe it’s a match made in heaven, me and Trevor.”

“You don’t want him,” Honey growls, her voice short. 

Bea shrugs and faces forward in her seat, her hands tapping her thighs. Whether it’s from nerves or excitement, Honey can’t tell. If she had to guess, though, it would be excitement. Bea is the least anxious person that Honey knows, the kind of person who can talk to anyone or anything no matter the situation.

While they might be athletes, they’ve never met anyone like Bea. Honey never has, not since she met her best friend all those years ago. They’re fucked– and she’s irresistible.

Honey and Bea pull up to the house and park under the cover, right next to the front door. This house was a point of contention when it was being built the first year Honey moved to Litchton. It was her first introduction to the gossip of the founding ladies. Scarlett and Gillian had felt particularly perturbed by the building– a five bed, four bathroom house complete with a hot tub and a game room and two stories of wraparound porches. 

And it’s all made of the same wood, the same stain, the same ugly pattern. Honey cringes when she thinks about the number of trees that were cut down to make this house match. She’d think the same thing if it was made entirely out of the same stone. 

Bea knocks on the door as Honey wipes her sweat from her palms. It takes a minute, but then Honey hears the scrambling of feet and the shouting between one man and his group of buddies, who are just giggling as they do what they can to cut him off from the door. Honey can see it through the thin windows bordering the door, how they rush up the stairs and down the hall. She can also see how they’re holding Trevor back as much as they can.

The brunet from the first day opens the door with a charming smile. “Hi,” he greets. “Can I help you?”

“Jack, you motherfucker–”

Honey bites back a laugh as Trevor curses and struggles, still in the grasp of the shorter boy from the first day and one of the newcomers– another brunet, a taller one. She looks at him carefully– the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, partially hidden under a baseball cap, the curve of his eyebrows, and the slope of his lips give him away. He must be one of Jack’s brothers. 

“We were invited to come over tonight,” Bea replies.

No matter how many times she hears it, Honey is always impressed by the way Bea turns on her charm and makes the people around her melt. It worked on her, too, when they first became friends all those years ago, and then less and less when Bea moved into Honey’s place when they first came to Litchton together and shared a bed for almost a year before Bea found her own townhouse. Then, her charm just got annoying, like a younger sibling who tags along with you everywhere because Mom said they had to.

It’s better for them when Bea and Honey have their time apart. Honey, especially, needs her time alone.

Jack’s eyes finally find Honey behind Bea and he grins. “That’s right,” he says, tapping his forehead like he just remembered. Honey can tell that all he’s doing is messing with Trevor, though. “The party! You must be the girls that Z invited. Hi, Honey.”

“Hi, Jack,” Honey replies, short and sweet. She turns on her customer service voice just for this. She finds Cole next to Trevor and smiles when her eyes slide over the imprisoned boy, as passive as she can be. “Hi, Cole.”

“Hey, Honey,” Cole says with an easy smile. Honey wants to snort and laugh– he’s got a smile that could get him into or out of anything. She wonders briefly if he’s childish and impish, still, even in their adult age, just because he’s got the smile to match.

Jack steps aside and lets the girls enter the house. He closes the door behind them and Honey has a sneaking suspicion that if she turned to glance at him, he’d be staring at one of their backsides. She doesn’t look. It’s not worth the joke that she could make if she caught him.

Bea nudges Honey and points up.

Honey tilts her head, and– “A chandelier made of moose antlers. Wow,” she marvels. She makes a face at Bea, then continues. “That’s really… something.”

“Isn’t it sick?” Cole asks, finally dropping Trevor’s arm and joining the girls where they stand. He spreads his arms out from his sides and spins in a slow circle. When he makes a full turn, he looks at both girls and wiggles his eyebrows. “Want a tour?”

The girls agree and Cole takes them throughout the house, leaving the other boys behind. From their pounding feet, Honey figures they’re headed downstairs, while Cole takes them upstairs. He shows them the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the common areas, the hallways, the outlet in his room that doesn’t work, and much more. They go back downstairs and get the same treatment– Cole even opens the fridge and helps himself to a beverage before offering anything to the girls. They see the kitchen, the living room, the den, the dining room and patio. Cole shows them the wraparound porch and its chairs. Honey takes in the view– it’s just as good as the one from her living room. 

Finally, finally, they make their way down to the basement. It’s a smaller room, minimized by a covered porch and larger patio with a hot tub. The basement is clearly the man cave, the game room, or whatever you want to call it. There’s a pool table, a large TV, a ping pong table, a foosball table… everything a boy could want. 

As evidenced by the two boys sitting on the couches near the pool table, while the other two wield sticks and study the position of the balls on the table.

Honey finds Trevor on the couch with Jack. His eyes found her first as she walked down the stairs and he hasn’t stopped staring. Neither has she, to be fair.

“Pool,” Bea notices. She looks at Honey and Honey shakes her head. Bea nods. “Honey and I are next,” she announces anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” Jack asks with a little laugh. “Are you any good?”

“I’m okay,” Bea says. She pauses, lets a smirk on her face grow as she looks over to Honey. “Honey’s worse.”

The boys turn to Honey. “Are you?” Trevor asks. 

“I wager she could still beat you, Z,” says the only boy that Honey had not seen when they arrived at the house earlier. He’s got dark hair, but it’s also hidden under a backwards cap. The only difference between him and his brothers, assuming he is one of the brothers that Trevor mentioned on Monday, is that he’s smaller, more sullen. The telltale sign is that his comment is offhanded, delivered with the calm venom of an older brother who knows exactly where to bite. He doesn’t even look at Trevor as he lines up his shot and sinks the ball.

Honey likes him immediately.

When she looks over, she notices that Bea likes him too. Her lips are pursed in thought, only the minutest pout on her mouth. There’s a tiny smile pulling at her cheek and her eyes are twinkling under the bright lights, but they would be hazardous in a club.

It’s a game they’ve played before. Bea sucks at pool– she always has, but… when you suck at pool, either the person you’re playing with will laugh at you or they’ll try to give you tips. The night usually ends with Bea sinking the 8 ball with a little bit of help from her gentleman caller and a celebratory, “thank you” kiss. 

Honey, however, loves pool. She wasn’t always great at pool, but found that, like almost everything, the more she practiced, the better she became. When Bea’s celebratory kisses turned into rushed hookups in the Winston-Salem dive bar bathrooms, Honey got her fair share of tips and tricks from the other men around. Usually, she would try to shack up with the alcoholic middle aged men who had nothing better to do than sip on their beer and play pool after dinner with their wives. It was rare that they flirted with Honey and she liked it that way.

The game goes like this: Bea finds a group of men that puff up their chest at the idea of beating a woman at pool, she “lets them win” against her (as if she would’ve won in the first place), and then it’s Honey’s turn. Honey, of course, feints a few shots and lets the men get comfortable before coming from behind and beating them. Usually, her win results in two drinks for her and her friend.

Today, the drinks won’t be her bargaining chip.

“What would you wager?” Honey asks the boy who last spoke. “If it were a real bet.”

His stormy eyes look her up and down while Jack’s brother, the tall one, paces around the table to find his best shot. “Money, normally,” he drawls. “But I’d rather not lose my money betting on you if you’re worse than her.” He nods to Bea, who takes the chance to blatantly look him up and down.

“How about this,” Bea proposes, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “I’ll play the winner of this game and then we’ll see if Honey can beat Trevor. If I win, I get whatever I want, obviously. If Honey wins…”

Honey meets Bea’s eyes. She nods, knowing that Bea is thinking back to the night when they visited ECU their junior year of high school and witnessed a rugby party in the flesh. It’s their usual punishment when their outings feature a house party and a pool table.

“...Trevor has to do a Zulu Run,” Bea finishes. 

Honey finds Trevor again and smiles, overexaggerated and sickly sweet. 

“What’s a Zulu Run?” Trevor asks, looking to the other boys and finding nothing but confusion. On the girls’ faces, he just sees plotted mayhem. 

“It’s fun, don’t worry,” Honey reassures him. “You only have to do it if you lose. Which, I mean, if I’m worse than Bea, then you should be fine.”

Honey sits on the loveseat across from Trevor and Jack, while Bea sits down next to Jack. Her knee presses against his, subtly, just enough that you can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just a lack of room on the couch and Honey presses her hand to her lips to hide a smile.

“So you’re Jack,” Bea says, interrupting the conversation that he and Trevor had been in when the girls walked down the stairs. 

Honey watches as Bea makes her eyes look wide and soft, very flirtatious and fairy-like. She’s got the perfect complexion for it– the light dusting of freckles over her skin, the ounce of baby fat still left in her cheeks and all the right places along her body, her expression just the right amount of interested but not desperate.

For a brief moment, Honey wishes she was more like Bea.

“You’ve heard of me?” Jack asks with a little smirk.

Bea scoffs and waves him off. “Don’t flatter yourself. Honey didn’t even tell me your name.”

Jack’s bright eyes turn to Honey. “Oh, yeah?” He tilts his chin up in challenge. “What is it with you and names? You wouldn’t tell Trevor yours, you haven’t properly introduced me to…”

“Bea,” Bea supplies.

Honey shakes her head fondly at her best friend’s eagerness. Honey bites her tongue to keep her comments at bay, and instead plasters a tight smile on her face. “I didn’t realize I would be seeing you all again,” Honey says, forcing politeness into her voice. “And I’m not the one who’s weird about names.”

Jack and Trevor share a look. Jack hides a snort poorly.

“What?” Honey asks, her eyebrows raised and her mouth in a straight, unimpressed line. 

Jack smirks and Trevor shakes his head. Jack speaks anyway. “I don’t know how you would have avoided us,” Jack says. “Considering.”

“Considering…?” Bea asks, leaning around Jack to look at Trevor. Honey catches Trevor’s panicked glance and can guess what Jack’s alluding to. She jumps in, hoping to switch the subject.

“Nothing to consider,” Honey and Trevor say at the same time. Trevor sounds rushed, Honey sounds indifferent. Both of their jaws drop and they stare at each other, Honey affronted and Trevor surprised. 

Cole, who had been sitting on the stool-saddles near the pool table, steps over the back of the couch and weasels his way between Trevor and Jack. “Creepy,” he says. “You’re like the twins from the Shining.”

Trevor cringes. “You know, I don’t think we are.”

Honey just hums, picking up her drink and taking a sip. She clears her throat and turns back to Jack. “So those are your brothers?” She nods over to the pool table, where the shorter boy is lining up the 8-ball with the corner pocket. “Trevor said you had family coming.” 

Honey doesn’t miss the smirk and blush on Trevor’s face when she says his name, even as he dips his head and takes a gulp of his beer to cover it up.

Jack smiles, a genuine smile. It’s easy to tell the difference with him, when he’s really smiling or if he’s smiling because he thinks he’s supposed to. 

“Yeah, the goons.” Jack looks over his shoulder and grins as his taller brother loses his game of pool. “C’mon, Rusty, you brought that pool stick all this way and your game still sucks?”

The taller boy glares at Jack and sulks, re-racking his stick. He walks over and stands awkwardly behind the couch, but flicks Jack on the back of the head and Honey giggles before she can help it.

She looks down at her lap after letting out the little laugh and misses the way Trevor’s eyes light up and train on her. 

“Luke, you fucker,” Jack swears, flinching at the impact of Luke’s flick. Jack frowns, his eyebrows furrowed as he rubs the back of his head. “He’s my little brother.”

“Little brother,” Honey repeats. “And you’re just going to let him flick you like that?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Very funny, Honey. Obviously I’m not going to let him get away with it.” He reaches around and half-asses a punch to Luke’s dick, just hard enough that it expels an “oof” from the younger boy and he doubles over a little bit.

The other boy interrupts. “Quit it,” he says. He glares at his brothers, then his eyes fix on Bea. “Your turn.”

Bea stands and smiles, a smug little smirk reserved for her conspiratory looks with Honey that signifies that she’s getting what she wanted. She joins the man by the rack of sticks and clasps her hands behind her back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Which stick should I use?”

Jack looks a little put out by the loss of Bea at his side, and casts a glare toward his other brother. “And that’s Quinn,” he says curtly. “Pool master, or whatever.”

“So he’s the best in the house?” Honey asks.

“We’ll tally scores at the end of the summer,” Luke jumps in as Quinn says, “Absolutely.”

Jack scowls. “You just think that because you’re older. Remember, Quinn: first is the worst. Second is the best.”

Trevor snorts and takes another sip of his beer. 

He’s unnaturally quiet, Honey thinks. Trying to be cool in front of his friends, maybe.

“I take it you’re the second child,” Honey says. “That makes sense.”

“That makes sense?” Jack asks, repeating her statement like he can’t believe she dared to say that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Honey looks over at Bea, who presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows. Daring Honey.

Honey rolls her head back, stretching the muscles of her neck. “You…” She starts, trailing off because she’s not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding mean. She scratches her eyebrow and scrunches her nose. “You like attention,” she decides, trying to keep her voice as free of judgment as possible. 

“Do I?” Jack asks, sounding unimpressed.

Honey shrugs. “You– I mean. Jack, you asked. You opened the door for us because you knew it would annoy Trevor, probably because you knew it would bother him that you were opening the door for m– us, instead of him. You flirt and smile when Bea sits next to you but you lean back and manspread when she gets up like you don’t want us to notice that you’re sitting without a girl at your side. You call your little brother a “fucker” and retaliate because you can, honestly escalating the situation from a flick to a punch to the dick. You act annoyed because your older brother is beating you at pool already this summer and it only just started, plus he took the girl from your side. It’s, uh… yeah. You like attention.”

Everyone but Jack starts to laugh.

“Stand up,” Cole says to Honey.

She does, her arms resting by her side awkwardly, her fingers twitching as she waits for him to do something.

Cole looks around the room and swears under his breath. “I didn’t think this through, one second,” he mutters, and disappears upstairs. 

Honey continues to stand there. She pats her hands against her thighs and looks around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but especially not Bea. If she makes eye contact with Bea, she’s going to burst out laughing. 

Trevor is still snickering, hiding his face in his shirt. Honey can still see the little crinkles by his eyes.

“She clocked you, man,” Quinn says with a shrug before pulling out a pool stick and standing it next to Bea. It comes up to the tip of her shoulder, Quinn’s chest. He nods in satisfaction and hands the stick over. Honey lets out a relieved breath of air at his approval, and then stifles a second when she watches Bea’s fingers brush over Quinn’s on the stick, her eyes lingering on his for just a second too long.

It’s too easy for her. 

Cole comes bounding down the stairs with a plastic soccer trophy in his hand. “Found this when I was snooping,” he says, approaching Honey and holding it out. He stands directly in front of her, makes eye contact with her, and stares into her eyes. “Thank you,” he says with a sincere nod. “For taking Jack down a peg. He needed that. We all needed that.”

And he hands the trophy off to Honey with a handshake, like she’s graduating from high school and he’s the principal handing her a diploma. He takes the handshake and pulls her into a hug, the trophy crushed awkwardly between them. 

When he pulls away, Cole puts both hands on Honey’s arms and stares into her eyes again. “If you’re going to do that again, please don’t do it to me.”

Quinn breaks the rack with a crack of his stick, standing at a slight angle, and Honey sits back down, cradling her trophy in her hands.

Cole engages Honey in conversation for a few minutes, with Luke jumping in here and there. Jack turns on the TV and pouts. As much as she tries not to notice it, Trevor just stays quiet and sips his beer and sneaks glances at Honey out of the corner of his eye. 

Eventually, the conversation dies out and the group turns their attention to the television, which is streaming some hockey game that Honey doesn’t have an interest in. The boys are chitchatting away, throwing out names and positions and yelling at the TV when a call doesn’t go their way– Honey can’t tell who’s cheering for what team, but she can also tell that Jack and Luke don’t like the team in white… at all. Trevor seems to prefer them over the team in red. Cole doesn’t seem to care. He’s just laughing, still, at Jack. Jack just sulks, but he seems to cheer up once the team in red scores, late in the first period.

“You all really like hockey, huh?” Bea asks between turns. Quinn has sunken a ball almost every turn, but Bea has only sunken one. Honey grins at her, then glances at the pool table and back to Bea. Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey, playful and easy. If Quinn’s the kind of guy that Honey thinks he is, it’s only a matter of time before he starts teaching Bea some tricks to tighten up the game. 

Cole laughs. “Yeah, I mean, I’d hope so.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, batting her eyelashes innocently, like she didn’t read all of Trevor’s Wikipedia page before coming here. 

“We play,” Luke says with a shrug.

Honey and Bea lock eyes and Honey plays along with her game. She tilts her head and blinks, as if this is the first time she’s hearing it. “Are you any good?”

Quinn snorts and shakes his head as Bea leans over to line up a shot and Honey notices his hand on her waist when he points at a different ball, explaining that that would be the better shot for her. Bea sinks the recommended ball and jumps up with a cheer, smiling brightly at Quinn and standing just a little closer than she would if she wanted to be just friends.

“We’re alright,” Trevor says, the first words he’s said to Honey since she walked through the door. He stands. “Does anyone want another beer?”

The boys’ voices ring out in a chorus of yesses, whereas Honey stays mostly quiet. Bea agrees to another drink as well, which is when Trevor turns to Honey. “You’re sure you don’t want another drink? I’m already getting them for everyone.”

“I’m sure, but thank you,” Honey says. 

“Why don’t you go and help him carry the drinks,” Bea suggests from her post next to Quinn. 

Honey glares at her, but stands. She leaves her trophy on her seat, saving it. “Fine,” she replies, hoping the edge in her voice is only detectable to her best friend. She follows Trevor up the stairs to the kitchen, like an antisocial cat who has FOMO, but only when it comes to their owner. She crinkles her nose in disgust when she realizes that that’s how she looks, not that Trevor would notice or care. Actually, he would probably be elated if she compared herself to a cat following him around.

Trevor opens the fridge and sifts around, the bottles of beer clinking. The beer takes up most of the bottom shelf, unsurprisingly.

“Do you think you have enough?” Honey asks, unable to help herself when Trevor passes her a third bottle, each a different brand of beer, to carry. 

“Q and J like Michelob, Luke is a Miller guy, Coley likes Budweiser, and I’m more of a Modelo drinker.” Trevor’s head is buried in the back of the fridge, rifling through a pack of Millers that seem to be running low. “We’ve had to go to the store three times since that first day because we keep running out of the one beer that someone wants.”

He retreats from the refrigerator and turns to Honey. He’s got two beers in his hand. He holds them up and asks, “Which one do you think Bea wants?”

Honey weighs her choices, but ultimately chooses the Michelob. Bea will use it as a jumping point for her conversation with Quinn– it’s a no-brainer. As annoying as Bea’s boy-craziness is, Honey is always going to be her wingwoman and helper when she can.

“Cool,” Trevor says and returns the other beer to the shelf. He turns back to Honey and takes two of the beers she was carrying, leaving her with just two, the Budweiser and the Modelo.

“I thought you were a Modelo drinker,” Honey says.

“I am,” Trevor replies, heading towards the stairs. 

Honey follows. “Then why am I holding your beer?”

“Because I want you to hand it to me.”

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

When they return downstairs, they distribute the beer. Honey hands Cole his Budweiser and waits for Trevor to finish handing out the beers to the Hughes brothers and her friend. Bea has finally managed to get Quinn to do the work for her, with him leaning behind her and guiding her arms over the cue, pointing out where she should be looking and where to hit the ball. There are no other balls on the table except the 8 ball, which makes Honey chuckle. There’s no way Bea sunk all of hers– Quinn had to have “mistakenly” knocked a few in for her.

Trevor returns to the sitting area and Honey stands, offering him the Modelo in her hand. On purpose, she realizes, Trevor closes his hand over her own to take the beer from her and thanks her with a smile, his eyes far too kind to be harmless and friendly. 

Honey shakes her head with a look, then frowns when Trevor plops his happy ass right down on the other side of her loveseat. She shakes her head again and chooses to watch the end of the pool game, sitting on one of the stool-saddles near the table. She claps when Bea finally sinks the 8 ball after her third whiff. The ball only sinks because Quinn leaned over Bea again and did it for her, working together to finish the game.

“I win!” Bea squeals in delight, jumping in celebration in front of Quinn.

He lets out a little chuckle, the most awkwardly and quietly endearing laugh that Honey has ever heard. “You won,” he agrees. “With my help.”

Bea tilts her chin up and smiles at Quinn, proud of herself. “So we both win,” she says. “That means we both get whatever we want.”

Honey bites her tongue and ducks her head, waiting for what’s coming next. She wants to turn around and look out the window, even though you can’t see anything in the dark mountainside now that the sun has set. The thing is, she also wants to see the boys’ reactions to what Bea is going to say next.

Quinn smiles, a little tiny smile. His focus is only on Bea, who has inched her way closer to him somehow. There’s not much more room between them. “Whatever you want,” he repeats. “What do you want, Bea?”

Honey watches Quinn’s face, but she’s torn. She also wants to watch Jack.

“You know that tour Cole took us on when Honey and I first got here?” Bea asks, reaching out and smoothing out the turned-up fabric of Quinn’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” Quinn replies, a little confused.

Bea rests her hand on his arm, slowly making her way down so she can wrap her hand around his fingers. She watches herself do it, then looks up at Quinn through her lashes. “I don’t think I saw your bedroom,” she says. “Would you care to show me?”

Quinn’s lips part in surprise and Honey watches his eyes search Bea’s own for… insincerity, maybe? 

At the same time, Jack chokes on a sip of his beer. Honey’s eyes fly to him and Cole pats his back as Jack coughs it out. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jack says, clapping his hand against his chest and coughing one last time.

Bea smiles at him, oozing confidence and a little showmanship, as Quinn leads her to the stairs. He lets her climb them first and Honey giggles when Quinn sneaks a glance at Bea’s ass and visibly relaxes before hurrying to catch up with her and get his hands on her hips. Bea’s twinkling laughter grows softer and softer as she bounds up the stairs, her footfalls growing heavier as Quinn closes in on her.

“Well shit, Jack,” Cole says. “I guess you’re not the first to fall into bed with a girl this summer. The streak is finally over.”

“You don’t know that,” Jack says, pushing Cole’s hand off of his shoulder. He turns to face Honey, looking hopeful and a little desperate. “Wanna help me keep my streak up?”

A loud honking laugh escapes Honey. “Absolutely fucking not,” she replies, still laughing. She shakes her head at Jack, then notices the small, but mightily proud smile on Trevor’s lips. 

Choosing not to focus on that smile, a smile that she’s inadvertently becoming very fond of because she’s never seen him smile at his friends the way Trevor is smiling at her, Honey hops up from her stool and starts to gather the balls from the pockets of the table. She racks them, then grabs her cue and waves Trevor over. “I believe we had a game to play.”

“You had a game to lose,” Trevor corrects, standing and approaching Honey. He grabs his own stick, the one Quinn abandoned on the edge of the table when Bea proposed her bedroom shenanigans. 

“Hmm,” Honey voices, raising her eyebrows and exaggerating a grimace. “Consider me scared. Your break, Trevor.”

“When I win,” Trevor says. “I want to buy you dinner.” He lines up the cue ball and shoots, the colorful triangle of balls destroyed in a single swoop. One of the solids finds its way into a pocket and Trevor smirks.

“What a boring prize,” Honey muses. “But if you insist on those terms, then I agree.” She sticks out her hand to shake his. “And when I win…”

She leans down and eyes a line of three balls. The striped nine is farthest from the hole, but Honey wants to prove a point, so she angles her stick down at a steep slope and pushes– noticing Trevor’s mouth flattening into a line when her ball jumps over the other two and tips into the hole. She stands back up to her full height, tilting her head to the side. She cocks her hip and positions her hand against it, holding the cue up on her other side.

“I’m really going to enjoy your Zulu Run, Trevor.”

Cole whistles lowly from the couch. “I need to find you another trophy, girl.”

Honey shoots him a wink.

They play on. Trevor takes it easy– plays the safe route. With each easy fall into the pocket, he fistpumps to celebrate. Honey can only imagine how insufferable he is at the bowling alley. 

She shows him up, not even daring to let him pull ahead in their race and convince himself that he has a chance. She sinks the final black ball into the right-center pocket, bending herself all the way over the table to give him a good view of the girl who’s beating him. Her hips are high on the other side of the table, balancing up on her tip toes, facing the seating area. She doesn’t even look at the ball when she hits it, no, she’s looking up at Trevor with a tilted smile and mocking, bragging eyes. 

His eyes evaluate her– eyes, to lips, to chest, to ass. To the boys, making sure they aren’t looking, aren’t gawking at the round globes of Honey’s ass that are presented before them. Back to her ass. Her ass.

Honey stands, slowly, making sure Trevor memorizes the curve of her waist when she does. Her eyes drop to his pants, a smirk growing in time with his bulge, and she rests her hands on the edge of the table. She pulls her shoulders back, broadening her chest. 

It’s just a dominant stance. All Honey enjoys about this is the fact that his resolve and dignity crumble at the mere sight of a pretty girl bent before him. She likes knowing that he’s weak for her, but that she’ll never do anything about it.

She’s not looking for that.

“A Zulu Run,” Honey explains, clearing her throat to rid her voice of its sultry tinges. She shakes her hair back, over her shoulders. Trevor’s eyes darken at the sight of her throat. She smiles, but continues. “Is when you have to strip, sing a song, and streak around the house until the song is over.” She throws a glance over her shoulder at the other boys. “Usually your friends get to pick your song.”

Jack perks up at that. Honey turns and hops up on the ledge of the pool table, knowing that Trevor’s eyes have fallen to her behind. Jack looks at Honey with delight in his eyes, seeming to forgive her in an instant for psychoanalyzing him earlier in the night. His eyes slide to Trevor and the look in them seems more akin to yearning for vengeance.

“So, boys,” Honey drawls. “What’ll it be?”

They scramble over each other to reach her, shouting song suggestions as they fly into their head. Honey can’t hear anything they’re saying, so she laughs until they fall silent. Cole’s hand presses into the side of her thigh, she looks down at it in disgust, then back up at him. It falls to the edge of the table, noticeable space between her and the appendage. 

“How about this,” Honey decides. She sneaks a glance at Trevor, gloating as she lets her eyes roam all over his body. She takes in his arms, his thighs under his shorts, the way his shirt falls over his shoulders. “Trevor looks pretty fit. Why don’t we all pick a song?” She winks at him. “Make him run for, oh, eleven minutes or so?”

A flicker of recognition passes through Trevor’s gaze, but it’s quickly replaced by disbelief. He doesn’t know how she would know– weren’t they subtle about it? She lets out a breath of a laugh at the look– no, Trevor, you weren’t subtle, she thinks. but it’s cute that you think you are.

She realizes what she was thinking in a split second and shakes herself out of it, snapping her face forward and crossing her legs knee-over-knee. 

“But only his friends get to pick, so I guess I’m out.” Honey hops down from her perch and breaks through the boys, settling herself on the loveseat with her trophy, laying out to take up as much space as she could. She picks up the remote from the table and places her other hand behind her head, navigating to the Roku menu screen. “Do we have Spotify on this thing?”

Luke, Jack, and Cole each pick a song and Cole helps Honey connect to the outdoor speakers. He re-presents her with her trophy with a flourish and a bow, playful and lame. The boys push Trevor out to the patio with a whoop, pulling at his clothes even as Trevor fights them. 

Honey follows at a distance and watches through the glass door. She looks away when Trevor sheds his underwear and waits for Luke’s countdown to end before looking back up. She doesn’t want to see it. That’s just too far. She gets an eyeful of his ass as he rounds the corner of the house, though. 

As Trevor starts his third song, Cole’s cheesy Taylor Swift pick (“You can’t outrun my music now, bitch!”), Jack joins Honey at the door. 

“I think I’m going to head home,” Honey tells him, rubbing over the skin on her arms. 

Jack nods at her, shrugging easily. “I’ll walk you out.” 

Honey leads him up the stairs, hearing Trevor’s whoops grow louder as he finishes the second verse of the song. She knows he catches them walking up the stairs because his singing falters for a moment. His steps speed up. So do Honey’s. 

She walks briskly to the front door, bordering on a speedwalk, with Jack behind her. She swings her keys over her finger and wrenches the front door open. Jack catches it before it hits the wall. 

“What about Bea?” He asks, calling after Honey and making her pause. 

“She’ll find her way home,” Honey replies and steps off again. She has to get out of here before Trevor races up the stairs to stop her from being alone with Jack and she gets an eyeful of his– junk.

“Honey!” Jack calls again. 

She lurches to a stop and cringes, turning to face the boy. 

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to flirt with you anymore."

Honey takes a breath, walking back and reaching up to pat Jack's cheek, just forceful enough that it'll sting for a moment after she walks away. It's not quite a hit, but it's definitely not a love tap. "That doesn't hold the power that you think it does," she tells him with a nod and a close-lipped smile. She goes to leave, but Jack stops her by grabbing her hand.

"Trevor likes you, you know. He was quiet tonight, but he likes you. He's reading that book you gave him and everything," Jack says in earnest, his blues boring into Honey's own eyes. 

Honey picks up on the unsaid words. He's trying, take it easy on him, he might be annoying but he's good, and he likes you. You should like him too, and all of that.

The edges of Honey's smile soften and she gently pulls her hand from Jack's. "It's nice to know he can read," she replies, deflecting. Whatever Trevor feels for her, not that he can really feel anything because he doesn't know her like that, doesn't matter. She's not looking for that right now. "Thanks for hosting us, Jack. I'm sorry for what I... said."

"It's okay." Jack shrugs. "Thanks for coming."

"Goodnight," Honey bids him, and starts to walk away.

"Come back," Jack says, and Honey whips around and finds him looking like the words surprised him when he heard himself speak. He clears his throat. "Friday. Um, it's— it's National Chocolate Ice Cream Day and National Donut Day." He scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Really... important holiday."

Honey can't do anything but laugh. "I'll bring the donuts."

She walks to her car and ignores the chirping of bullfrogs echoing in her ears as she drives down the mountain to her home, alone.

7:90 – TREVOR

Jack glares at Trevor when he walks down to the kitchen early the next morning. As Trevor rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn, Jack shifts under the frozen pack of peas that rests precariously on his shoulderblades. Trevor had barely touched him last night, he was just being dramatic. So he had a bit of soreness on his back from where Trevor pushed him against the wall and asked him what the hell he was doing, who cares? He went upstairs with Trevor’s girl. Alone. 

“Bea’s taking you to church with her this morning for laying a finger on me,” Jack growls out when Trevor looks at him and laughs.

“No shit,” Trevor replies, snorting.

“It’s true,” comes the female voice from the couch. Bea leans forward, her tube top skewed and tilted enough to draw a wandering eye. Trevor rolls his. “You shouldn’t get violent, not on my watch.”

“You weren’t even with me last night, Bea,” Trevor says sweetly, tilting his head down to dismiss her. “You didn’t see me do shit. How can you prove it was me and not Luke?”

“Luke put a video of it on his private story, then showed me,” Bea snickers in the same tone. “So you’re taking me home and helping me choose my best church outfit to hide these hickeys, and then you’ll join me at the service. It’ll be good for your reputation in town.”

“I don’t really care about my reputation in town,” Trevor laughs.

“Honey cares about your reputation in town,” Bea clarifies, a tight, ‘there’s no room for discussion here’ smile on her face. She pointedly looks him up and down. “Little Bear.”

Trevor scowls at her condescending tone and use of the nickname. How dare she flaunt her inner circle-ness to Trevor. 

“I was going to go to church anyway,” Trevor boasts. “Vera told me to bring all of the boys.”

“Well, you’re the only one resorting to violence–” Jack begins, seething, before Bea cuts him off.

“No, this is a good idea,” she says, waving her hand to quiet him. “We should all go to church.”

Jack scoffs. “I don’t think we need to go,” he says. “Sounds like you’ve got an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t want the town to think y’all are reclusive party folk who have no interest in the happenings of Litchton,” Bea snaps. “You’d be surprised how quickly the old grannies will turn on you.”

“And you get to walk into church with five guys on your arm,” Jack says, still scowling. This time, his attention is focused on Bea, not the man who physically hurt him the night before. 

“Said she wanted five guys, she ain’t talking ‘bout burgers,” Trevor deadpans, a disgusted look thrown Bea’s way.

She’s unperturbed by it, probably from many years of Honey– Honey.– throwing her similar looks. All Bea does is smile and reply, “My pussy already got murdered, Trev. I didn’t need five guys.”

“No way Quinn ‘murdered’ your pussy, Bea,” Jack jumps in, air quotes around the word. “The dude doesn’t fuck.”

Bea laughs. “I assure you, he fucks.”

“Yeah, I fuck,” Quinn agrees, descending the stairs. He veers to the couch first and drops a kiss on Bea’s head in greeting.

“Well, fuck your way to church,” Jack says. “Bea’s making everyone go with her.” Jack looks at Quinn expectantly, maybe waiting for pushback.

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says. “It’s not like there’s anything else for us to do on a Sunday morning in this place. Everything is probably closed.”

“It’s true, everything is closed on Sundays except the grocery store and the gas station,” Bea says with a nod. “And the church, of course.”

Jack scowls and removes his pack of peas from his back. Trevor takes his opportunity to approach the fridge, conveniently behind Jack. “Why can’t we just stay here?”

“Because it’ll be fun,” Trevor replies, trying to exude optimism now that he’s not the only boy being forced to attend church and wash themselves of their sins. He turns and purposefully claps his hand down on Jack’s shoulder, hard. Jack howls in pain. Trevor squeezes just to watch him tense up. “It’s our chance to become one with the community, Jacky.”

Bea smiles, voice dripping with cheerfulness. “Yeah, Jacky, it’ll be good for you. Why don’t you two head upstairs and change?” Her eyes fix on Quinn, whose shirt rides up as he grabs a glass from the upper shelves of the cabinets. “I want to chit-chat with Quinn for a second.”

Trevor and Jack make a face, but scramble towards the stairs. They push and shove each other all the way up– Trevor is particularly satisfied when Jack bumps into the wall and groans– then split off into their respective rooms. Trevor treats it like a race– whoever finishes changing first wins.

Jack is already back downstairs by the time Trevor returns. Cole is there, and Luke, and both of them seem to be dressed for the service too. None of the boys have the best church clothes, but it’s a small town with farmers. Surely not everyone will be in their Sunday best every Sunday. Quinn is noticeably missing, but Bea is standing by the door with a smile on her face. Her lips look a little more red than they did before Trevor went upstairs. He narrows his eyes at her.

“You, and you,” Bea says, pointing at Jack and Trevor. “Come with me. Trevor, grab your car keys. You’re driving.”

“What about Luke and Cole?” Trevor asks, picking up his keys from their spot on the hook next to the door and trailing behind Bea. Jack trails behind Trevor, still grumbling and pretending like his shoulders hurt for dramatic effect. Trevor ought to show him some real pain next time.

The three people climb into the car, Trevor behind the wheel and Bea in the passenger seat. Jack, once again, finds himself relegated to the backseat. He straps himself in and Trevor catches his murderous glare in the rearview mirror.

“Quinn’s going to drive them,” Bea explains. “They’ll meet us at the church.”

“Whipped,” Jack coughs out. He does a terrible job of masking the word. 

Trevor rolls his eyes, just like Bea. She opens her mouth to say something, sass him, but thinks better of it.

They drive on in silence, the occasional sigh or grunt from Jack as he shifts in his seat. Trevor glares at him again in the mirror and Jack hits him with a fake smile before looking out the window to watch the trees whip by.

Bea directs them to the main strip of shops, then tells them to take a left onto one of the sidestreets near The Reading Nook. They pull up to a big brick house, separated down the middle by a massive staircase. Bea climbs the stairs and turns to the left again, unlocking and pushing her front door open.

She leads the boys into her living room, which is decorated exactly how Trevor expected it to be. The couch is white with pink pillows and a white shag rug beneath it. Her furniture is odd, thrifted and worn in. None of it matches, although Trevor suspects that her theme was “Barbie girl aesthetic.” It’s messy, and comfortable, and Trevor almost envies how she lives. His apartment in Anaheim is sparse– when you’re on the road so much and as busy with your job as Trevor is, you really only need a place to eat and sleep. His decorations reflect that.

Trevor sprawls out on the couch, leaving Jack standing awkwardly next to the coffee table. Bea disappears down the hall and enters her bedroom, her closet door creaking open.

“Jack, come here, will you?” Bea asks. 

Jack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he starts down the hallway nonetheless. 

Trevor snoops in his absence, Jack’s presence no longer a threat to his comfort. He drags himself off of the couch and stands, advancing towards the shelves of knickknacks on the wall near the television.

Bea has got a number of books on her shelves, overtaking two of the four rows. The other rows are sparse and far more interesting– there are picture frames spread along the rows, six frames that depict Bea’s life and what she loves.

Four of the pictures feature Honey. The other two are groups of people that Trevor assumes are Bea’s family, her extended family on each of her parents’ sides. He can ignore those easily, not caring about about Bea to scan each of her cousins’ faces. The pictures with Honey are a different story.

There’s a picture of the two when they were ten, or eleven, riding their bikes down an asphalt street lined with suburban houses. Bea’s bike is pink with streamers and flowers and a little basket. Honey’s is dark green and sporty, similar to Trevor’s own bicycle from childhood. Honey’s smile is wry, whereas Bea’s is glowing.

The second, from a birthday party. It’s Honey’s birthday and they’re four, from the looks of the lit candle on her cake. Honey’s smile is wide, much wider than the previous image. Her hair is messy and her tongue is stained green, probably from a lollipop or a Jolly Rancher. Her arms are wrapped around Bea’s neck and she’s pulled her friend close, their cheeks pressing together. Bea’s expression is a little different. Only one of her eyes is squeezed shut, the one closer to Honey. Her lips are pursed like a duck and her little fingers are raised in a peace sign.

Trevor chuckles. If his mom had been the one taking the picture, she would’ve said “What a ham” about the girls’ goofiness.

In the next picture, they’re older. They’re sixteen, probably. Bea’s wearing these short jean shorts and a bikini top and Honey wears a matching top under some long, gray sweatpants. She rolled the waistband up and her back is mostly to the camera, Bea lifted off the ground in a swooping hug. Bea’s legs are kicked up behind her like she’s experiencing a really good, Princess Diaries kind of kiss and her face is frozen in laughter. Honey’s is the same. Trevor’s heart clenches at the smile on her face and the way her hair blows out behind her.

Finally, there’s a selfie of the two of them in a handmade frame. It’s from a high angle and Trevor can’t tell if it’s a .5 picture or a regular one. Honey’s eyebrow is raised and she wears an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, goofy enough to tug at Trevor’s smile. Bea’s mouth is open and she has a hand pinching Honey’s chin, while the other is raised to take the picture. Behind them is the Welcome to Litchton sign that Trevor passes each time he goes into town. 

Trevor’s eyes glide down to the handmade frame, the written message along the top and bottom borders.

“New Beginnings!” and smaller, in the corner, a more personalized message. Trevor thinks that she wrote the message in a thin Sharpie– it’s too pristine still, after years. “There’s no one I would rather have join me in Litchton than you. Thank you for always being the Bea to my Honey! Honeybea 4ever <3”.

Trevor reaches out and takes the frame in his hand, inspecting it. He turns it over. More script, also in a Sharpie: “2019”, it reads. He replaces the item, making sure it’s back in the exact right spot. 

“Bea, hurry up!” Trevor calls, returning to the couch.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” she replies, leading Jack out of her bedroom. She’s clasping a necklace as she walks, then holds out her wrist and a bracelet for Jack to clasp. “We can go now.”

They leave the apartment and climb back into the car, Jack beating Bea out for the passenger seat this time. He’s smug about it too, grinning to himself while he buckles up. Trevor opens the back door for Bea and helps her into the car with a guiding hand in hers. When Jack realizes that he fumbled the chance to look like a gentleman, his face returns to its scowl. 

“If you’re not careful, your face will get stuck like that,” Trevor warns when he finally sits behind the wheel again. He shifts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking space.

Bea directs them to the church and Trevor pulls into the parking lot next to Quinn’s car, which is still running. They’ve got about five minutes before the service begins and Bea chastises the three boys for not going inside and reserving seats early. 

“There’s only a few instances where the whole town goes out to do something,” Bea complains as they walk inside. “Church is one of them. We’re never going to find a spot for all six of us.”

“No Honey?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He expected her to join them, especially since the ‘whole town’ is here.

Bea casts Trevor a look and snickers into her palm. “You’re sweet, Trevor,” she says and Trevor rolls his eyes at her saccharine tone. “But Honey decided a long time ago that she had enough religion in her life growing up. She and God know where they stand.”

Trevor reaches the door to the church first and holds it open for the group, letting them file in. He’s grateful that they’re in the church now, because all of the other boys are either too respectful of the space and what it represents or too awkward in a silent building to make fun of Trevor for seeking out Honey. Or they don’t want to get on Bea’s bad side and act a fool in church and suffer her wrath.

They file into one of the back pews, Bea sandwiched between Quinn and Luke. Trevor sits on the other side, right at the aisle. 

For an hour, he stays quiet and moves and speaks with the congregation. He counts the number of times that Cole tases Jack’s side, sticking his fingers between his ribs to cause him to flinch and make noise in the reverent area. He does this five times throughout the mass before Bea leans forward and threatens to cut his hands off herself. 

For an hour, Trevor stares forward and lets his mind wander to Honey, and all the thoughts he has about her. She’s a mystery and she’s quiet like Quinn, but confident in a way that Quinn never achieved. She knows exactly who she is and won’t budge for anyone, won’t change herself or act in any special ways around certain people. 

Trevor admires it– he’s spent his whole life performing for people, in a way. Hockey is his life and always has been, but sometimes it’s tiring to realize that all of his friends are people he met on ice. To think that he can be surrounded by his teammates and the fans in any arena and still feel lonely– it’s the kind of thing that leaves Trevor wondering if this career was a good idea. 

In another world, he’s playing in a beer league in a town like this, with a girl like Honey on his arm. 

The thought leaves him feeling heavy, weighed down. It ruminates in his mind, even after the service is over. It sours his mood completely and Trevor wishes he was back at the house so he could take a shower or something and stop the prickling feelings from taking over his skin.

In the parking lot, the group chats about nothing. Trevor doesn’t listen. Bea introduces the boys to come of the townsfolk and Trevor smiles and shakes the men’s hands, hugs the ladies or send a special look their way. Vera and Earl honk as they drive past the group, Vera blowing a kiss towards Trevor and Cole through the passenger window. Cole catches it and sticks it to his cheek, then sends one back. It makes Vera laugh.

Trevor tunes back into the conversation as the boys discuss plans for the upcoming week– Jack edges away from Trevor before he mentions that he invited Honey over that coming Friday and that Bea should come too. 

“Well, you’ll rarely find a Honey without its Bea,” Bea teases. She claps. “Okay. I’ll see you guys then. Quinn, take me home?”

Quinn nods and puts his hand on the small of her back to direct her to the car. Bea pauses and waves Trevor over, shooing the other boys away. Quinn stays, his hand still on Bea’s body.

“There’s a fruit stand outside the grocery store on Mondays,” Bea says.

“I know, I’ve been,” Trevor interrupts.

Bea quiets him with a click of her tongue. She chooses her words carefully, her eyes hard. “Go tomorrow at, like, six,” she suggests, a faux-nonchalant shrug lifting her shoulders. “You might find something that you like there. I recommend buying the strawberries. They make a lovely gift, Trevor.”

Trevor frowns, confused. “I don’t like strawberries,” he replies.

Bea closes her eyes and processes his words for a moment, a tight smile on her lips. “They make a lovely gift, Trevor,” she repeats.

“Sick,” Trevor says, his voice hard. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “I’m not buying strawberries for you, Bea. I don’t know you enough to give you gifts.”

Bea stomps her foot. “Good fucking God, Trevor. Quinn, can you explain this shit to him?” She asks, then walks off to the car. She takes Quinn’s keys from his hand and gets behind the driver’s seat herself. 

Quinn watches her walk away, then turns to Trevor. “She’s telling you that you’ll run into Honey, you fucking idiot, and that you should buy her strawberries.” 

He leaves Trevor standing there, eyes wide.

Yeah, he’s definitely heading to the fruit stand tomorrow and buying strawberries.

He concocts his plan on the drive home, silent compared to the other three boys, that are laughing and flopping around the backseat with every turn in a game of Jell-O. They’re not wearing their seatbelts. When they get too loud, Trevor envisions ejecting them from the backseat, leaving them sailing down the mountain, falling through the air.

He holes himself up in his room to nap when they get home, too excited to see Honey to let the time pass organically. It’s like time travel, this way. Trevor will wake up and be two hours closer to seeing her, to getting another chance to win her over. This time, with a gift.

In the afternoon, he laces up his blades and skates with the boys. Quinn has come back by now, not spending much time at Bea’s apartment after church, according to Luke. They all skate and shoot for a couple of hours, playing a game of pickup with an extra player to sub in and out. When that ends, they run some drills. Luke and Quinn play defense, like always, with Trevor, Cole, and Jack recreating their legendary line from USNTDP. It works out perfectly, and each boy pushes himself like they’re playing a real game. It’s the brotherly competition that fuels them– and when the drills start to fall into disarray from hits and other penalties that would certainly be called out in a game, they head off to shower.

The night ends slowly, fizzling out compared to the way it ended the night before. The boys lounge in the game room, sprawling out on the couches and snacking and sipping their beer. Trevor isn’t made to perform another Zulu Run, no one picks up a pool cue, and they watch shitty TV movies on the Spanish channel instead of English. They make up the dialogue as they go and Trevor is the first to go to sleep. He makes it to midnight, but then he forces himself to go to bed. 

He’s got a big day ahead of him… after 5 p.m., anyway.

–end–of–chapter–one–

[antonsgf]

okay now walk with me…

i'm thinking about bf!anton :))

you see everyone thinks he's all soft + baby from first glance, but this dude is an alleged aries stellium !! a.k.a. lots of mars energy ( i'll elaborate on this on another post...)

like he may be quiet but I'm sure his aries shows in different ways

like imagine his arm around your waist uhhhhh and he places his hand under your shirt to grip for that extra umph

he does that when y'all are hanging out casually around friends or his members

it's because he's a little possessive protective :33

and the boys would definitely make a big (funny) deal about it, lots of ohhhs :00 !! and "wow look at him" !!

let him hold you !! he's 6'1 like he loooooooves to wrap his arms around you whether it's cuddling, back hugs, or he's having a bad day

he needs you in his arms !! that's it !!

also going on late night swims at the lake or pool !!

y'all would jump in together and swim up to the surface for a smooch (or two)

okay soft stans don't jump me but like skinny dipping is a thing that could happen too hhhhhhh

like imagine looking at the water droplets cascading down his arms and chest !! oh my ahsfjbsdhgfhidlbgi !!!!

anyways SAJBDJSIBDSJ bf!anton would make you playlists

they can span from being intentional to little random playlists based on vibes like "songs that remind me of you :)"

of course you make him playlists too !! he takes y'all's blend on spotify very seriously !!

also don't feel embarrassed abt your music because this guy has TASTE !!! he'll listen to anything and everything at least once !!

and if y'all like the same artist, I can see him wanting to musically discuss their project and debrief about the specifics

watching his eyes sparkle and his smile beam in wonder while he gives his hot takes because anton is indeed a music bro :))

i wouldn't be surprised if he watches anthony fantano lmaooo

sometimes he gets into the nitty gritty of producer talk and you may have no idea what he's talking about but you don't mind

especially if it's one of the things he's interested in !! his voice makes you feel warm and fuzzy !! you can listen to his voice for hours :))

bf!anton would also have you sit with him during his independent studio time !! and when I say sitting with him, i mean sitting on him

his lap specifically !! chest facing his and your face in the crook of his neck !!

sometimes he works for HOURS while producing and composing, and he checks up on you during said hours because he feels bad

but !! he quickly makes up for it by ordering food and offering piggyback rides because you're eepy !! and he thinks you're cute !

hmmm might have to do a part 2 !! because I have so many thoughts about anton lmao let me know what y'all think !!

♡ kimmia ♡

[cringe-but-proud]

YOU FREAKS ASKED. AND GOD DAMMIT, I DELIVERED. HERE'S A PART 3.

Curbside Conversations

Hobie Brown x reader!!!! Read part 1 here and part 2 here <3

Warnings: swearing and a little suggestive for one sentence if you squint

A/n: I'm glad y'all are liking this little series 🤭 I could write a part 4, but it'll probably be a while cause I've got a bunch of shit going on right now. If you wanna be tagged in the next part, tell me. Requests are open.

Tag list: @th3h0nkz yeah, I see you 💋💋💋

Late, late, late, late, late.

That was about the only thing going through your head as you speed walked to work. You felt like a mess and you probably looked like one too. Messy hair, a jacket only zipped halfway up, shoes untied, and you were pretty sure your shirt was on inside out.

Finally (and 20 minutes later than you should’ve) you arrived to work.

“You’re late.��� Sam, one of your coworkers said, looking up from her phone.

“And you’re chewing gum. We’re both breaking rules that shit doesn’t matter.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Some guy came in looking for you earlier.”

That caught your attention. “Really?”

“Yeah. Tall, big hair, he had a lot of piercings,”

That was a description you recognized. That was Hobie. He was looking for you? You had missed him?! Oh, God.

“Do you owe him money or something?” Sam asked.

“What? No, when have I ever owed anyone money?”

“You owe me three bucks from when I got you a drink from the convenience store.”

“You told me you stole that drink.”

“Yeah, and if I had bought it, it would’ve been three bucks.”

You blinked at her and marveled at the absolute lack of logic in that statement. “I don’t owe him money.”

“So, what did he want?”

You sighed. “I wish I knew…”

…

“... Dude, you’re weird.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

The hours of your shift dragged by like years. It was one of those shifts that genuinely made you consider quitting your job; and on top of that, you couldn’t get fucking Hobie off of your mind. God, you didn’t even know him. That guy Sam was talking about probably wasn’t even him. But, then again… No. You were being delusional. You needed to drop it.

“Hey, I’m going on break.” You announced to your two coworkers as you shrugged on your jacket, put in your earbuds, and left the small building. Once outside, you sat on the curb beside the building and let some sappy, sad music play in your earbuds.

Jesus, what kind of sentimental bullshit were you on? This was pathetic.

You wallowed in your own self pity, feeling miserable for a few more minutes until a voice broke you out of your pity party

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Your eyes had been closed, but once hearing the voice, they snapped open.

You stared, wide eyed at him.

“You?” You said in disbelief, looking up at Hobie.

“Yup.” He lowered himself to the spot next to you on the concrete. “Me.” He smiled at you and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I uh… I was looking for you earlier.”

“You probably would've found me if I hadn't been late for work.”

He laughed lightheartedly. “You find yourself in shitty situations often, don't you?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “I got robbed last week.”

At first, he simply nodded which seemed like a bit of an under reaction, but then he widened his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Shit was crazy.”

“Well… I'm glad you're alright.”

You bit your tongue, considering your next words. “Why were you looking for me earlier?”

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. “Dunno. I uh…. I sort of was hoping to talk to you again, I guess.”

You hummed. “About what?”

“Anything.” He answered.

“Anything?” You repeated the word.

“Well,” He reconsidered. “I was kind of hoping to bring something up.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, uh…” He hesitated. Was he nervous? “I mean, you seem cool or whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and then repeated the word quietly, under his breath. “Yeah.”

A brief pause passed between the two of you. “I think you're cool too.” You said eventually. “I mean, you definitely get that a lot. But, still.”

“Nah, I appreciate it coming from you.” He said. “You're… I think you're…” He hummed as if trying to put together his words. “I like you.” He settled on.

You'd sort of seen that coming, but you were still surprised. “Do you?” You asked.

“Yeah. Which is sort of weird cause I hardly know you. But, uh… I'd like to get to know you better.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I'd like that too.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture, chuckling.

“Well, I'll start by asking for your number?” He said it as if it was a suggestion. But, he didn't need to. You wouldn't ever think of declining the offer. So, you stuck your hand out, motioning for him to give you his phone. He pulled out his phone, opened his contacts and handed it to you for you to put in your info. You quickly tapped in your number and handed the device back to him.

“There.” You said. “Promise me you'll text me later.”

“Yeah, promise.”

A silence came over the two of you. You looked down at your sneakers and tapped your heels together in an effort to hide the flustered look that had made its way on to your face.

And then, you felt his hand brush against yours. You looked over to him and he was staring straight ahead which made you want to laugh because God, this felt like two middle schoolers on a first date. Awkward, cringey, and sweet.

You decided to bite the bullet and take his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

His eyes darted down to your hands, laced together, and then to your face. You smiled at him and he smiled back, opening his mouth to say something when-

“Y/n, it's been 15 minutes!” Sam yelled, poking her head around the corner of the building to look at you.

Once she disappeared back into the building you groaned. “I should just quit this god awful job.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Nah, you shouldn't.” Hobie disagreed. “How else are you gonna get me shitty free pizza?”

You paused before bursting into laughter. “That is so stupid.” You said as you got up.

“But it's true.” He said, finally letting go of your hand. “Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You sighed.

“Well, when do you get off?”

“I've got the closing shift, so I'll be off at like, 9:00.”

“Well, if you're up for it, I think a late night date could be fun.” He said. “I'll walk you home from work, make sure you don't get robbed this time. And then we'll… See where the night takes us, I guess.”

You paused. How'd he know you got robbed after a closing shift? You hadn't told him that, had you? Well, it's sort of an easy assumption to make. Whatever. It's probably nothing.

“I'd like that.” You finally answered.

“Y/N!” Sam yelled.

“I’M COMING!” You yelled back. “Jesus… Anyways, uh… I'll see you tomorrow night?”

“Definitely.”

You smiled at him. “Cool. I'll be looking forward to it.”

With one last nod, you turned your back and walked back into work. For once, you were excited to have a closing shift.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

another idea! someone harrassed you online and Yelena does her spy stuff, gets the dude to Actually apologize and Mean it. and then as she's comforting you she's like...sneakily going down to eat you out and make you forget about stupid boys.

-💦🍯

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with some plot, it's actually not that dirty, I mean it is but I was hoping for it to be sweet and lovely and cute, not sure if it worked out tho, yelena being the overprotective gf she is

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, mentions of online harassment, mentions of a boy being a dick (I hate men), yelena wanting to kill said man because he made r cry, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.7k

note: NONNIEEE, I'm sooo sorry it took me so long to write this. But I'm so glad I finally get to post this one. I really hope you like it, and I'm sorry if it's not as dirty and smutty as you wanted it. I still need so practise lol. Thank you for the request, anon, ily. I'm not an english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

To say she was pissed was an understatement, she was furious, she felt as if her blood was boiling, and all she could see was mad red.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing and all she could see was you. Everytime, her mind took her back to a couple of hours earlier in the day, and there you were crying, brows furrowed, bottom lip trembling and your phone in front of your eyes. Her heart skipped a beat once she took a look at you. She felt the muscular organ breaking into a million pieces, you looked so small, and fragile, like a lost puppy.

“Y/n? Baby, what happened?” Yelena asked, concerned and worried in her tone.

“Nothing, nothing. I just…,” you sniffed. Tears rolled down your cheeks as Yelena’s thumbs gently brushed them away.

“It’s not ‘nothing’, Y/n. What happened?” she took your phone from your hands, leaving it on the floor and wrapped her hands around yours.

“People can be so mean. Why are they mean, Lena?” you sobbed, your head fell on her shoulder as you let the river of tears flow.

It took you a while to finally open up to her because you wouldn’t stop crying. Yelena’s heart sank into her tummy as she listened to your words carefully. The sadness she felt for you soon shifted into anger as she realised the reason why you were crying was because of some stupid miserable insensitive boy.

Some brainless damned bored fucker had made some online comments about you. She scoffed, how did that asshat dare to make you cry? How did he dare to say those awful things about you? Was he really that bored to mess with you? Was he really that miserable to make other people cry? And you of all people. Why did it have to be you? You who were so sweet to everyone, including people you didn’t even know. You who would never talk shit about anyone. You who would always take care of everyone else before yourself.

It was Yelena’s job to take care of you. All she wanted was for you to stop crying and to make you feel better, so she made it her mission, literally. She wasn’t good with her words when it came to you, she felt like she could never say the right thing to make you feel better, so she did what she did best, and made it her next mission to find this repulsive freak and make him pay for all the tears you had shed because of him.

You were so tired from all the crying that soon enough you had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She carried you up to your shared bedroom, tugged you in, left a soft kiss on your forehead and got to work.

Tracking this guy down wasn’t hard at all, the jackass was careless, he probably thought that leaving hate comments here and there wouldn’t cause him any kind of problems. But boy was he wrong.

She breathed out one last time, trying to not let her anger get the best out of her, and then she opened up her eyes. There she was, parked right outside Jared’s house. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, she felt like she could just kill Jared for what he put you though. But she knew you wouldn’t like that nor would it help you.

“Okay, here it goes,” she said, getting out of the car.

She impatiently knocked on the door, making no attempt to stop the loud knocking until Jared dared to open up.

“Jesus, I said I’m coming,” she heard someone say from the other side.

As soon as the door was unlocked, she pushed it open and made her way in.

“Hello, Jared,” she said, shutting the door behind her with a fake small on her lips.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sounded as angry as Yelena felt.

“We are going to have a chit chat, Jared.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are. You are going to leave or I’ll call the cops,” he stepped forward, trying to intimidate Yelena. She just rolled her eyes at the action.

“I’d like to see you try,” she said, pushing him back strongly enough for him to lose his balance and fall on his butt. “You see, Jared—.”

“How the fuck do you know me?”

“You said some things that I didn’t like,” she ignored him. “In fact, I’m really pissed off at the moment, so much that I feel like I could just rip your head off,” she chuckled as she watched the horror in his eyes. “You fucked up, Jared. Big time. You made the person I care most on this planet cry, and I hate you for that.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got the wrong guy, I swear I didn’t—.”

“Oh, really? So you are not @jaredrocks.com?”

“I, um…,” he hesitated, swallowing down the lump that had formed on his throat, which didn’t go unnoticed by Yelena.

“Yeah, I figured,” she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “So here’s what you are going to do, Jared,” his face went pale as he noticed Yelena’s mood change, he could tell she was getting angrier by the second and he didn’t want her to snap. Not after she pushed him to the ground so effortlessly.

All he could do was nod as Yelena talked, “You are going to come with me, apologise to her and you’ll promise that you would never do bad shit ever again, Jared. Because if you do, I will find out and I won’t be holding back next time. Got it?” she raised her brow at him for Jared to quickly nod again. “Great! Get on your feet.”

Once Jared and Yelena made their way to your shared apartment, she quickly pulled him out of the car and to the front door. You were waiting for them, well actually just Yelena. She had called you earlier and told you to be outside, she said she wanted to show you something. You felt a chill crawling up your back once you saw a man walking next to her.

“Baby, this is Jared. He has a lot to say to you.”

“Jared? I don’t understand—.”

But you were quickly cut off as Jared began to ramble about how sorry he was, that he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he was just bored and sad, that he was a pathetic little douche bag —Yelena made him say that— and that he would never do something like that ever again. That he regretted ever doing something like that. Suddenly it hit you, he was the prick who wrote that shit about you.

“You really hurt me, Jared.”

“I now can see that. I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you could only nod at him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Okay. You’re done here, Jared. Now, get lost,” Yelena patted his back motioning for him to walk away.

“But I don’t—”

“Get lost, Jared,” Yelena repeated herself, this time her tone was harsher and Jared got the memo.

Once he was out of your sight the two of you made your way inside the comfort of your home. You still felt weird about the whole situation. You appreciated Jared’s apology, but you couldn’t stop thinking about all his mean comments.

“Y/n, stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“I know you are thinking about everything he said, but you must know that he was full of shit,” she said, making her way towards you on the bed.

“Lena, I just…” she could see the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

“Y/n, you are the prettiest, smartest, kindest girl I ever had the pleasure to meet. You are so full of light, Y/n. Don’t let an asshole like Jared put you out, you hear me?”

You nodded, battling the tears.

“Let me show you how special you are, Y/n,” she said as she brushed her nose against your cheek, her lips impatiently searching for yours.

Her lips muffled a gasp coming out of your lips. Like usual, her lips moved perfectly in sync against yours, soft and rough. Her tongue danced around with yours. Her teeth biting your bottom lip. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as your skin set on fire just with how close she was.

“Make me forget, Yel,” you said breathlessly in between kisses.

Your back hit the bed as Yelena got on top of you, her lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around her hip and quietly moaned once your clothed core made contact with hers.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” she mumbled against your skin as she trailed a path of wet kisses along your jaw.

Somehow in between kisses and soft caresses, Yelena got your body bare. She left a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, another right in between your breasts, and one on your abdomen before making her way to your aching wet core.

“So perfect,” you heard her say before the room was filled with your loud moaning.

She sucked, bit, kissed and licked as she pleased, making a mess out of you. Gently but eagerly she pushed two fingers inside of you, a moan escaped from Yelena’s lips as she felt your cunt clenching around her fingers. She kept a steady pace, slightly curling her fingers to get you to enjoy it as much as you could, as her lips worked on your clit.

Your hands flew to her hair, tugging at it, pushing her even closer to your cunt. And with a loud cry you came undone on her mouth. Yelena’s lips moved fast to drink up every bit of your juice she could as her tongue helped you ride your high. Once you were finished, she left one last kiss on your cunt and went to cuddle you.

She tugged you in, making sure you were warm and wrapped you in between her arms, leaving small kisses on top of your head.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Y/n,” you heard her saying as you drift off to sleep, tiredness getting the best of you. “Never again, I promise.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[ressonancee]

✷ There is a before and after you when the subject is Seokmin.

✷ genre: Angst, Break Up. Non-Linear Narrative. sad and angry

✷ word count: 4716

✷ featuring: Yoon Jeonghan, one (1) Hoshi mention, two (2) Jeon wonwoo mention, two (2) seungcheol mention, three (3) vernon mention

✷ thea’s note: hey y'all i've been m.i.a. because 1 - phd is kicking my ass but i am pretty sure now I can conduct a poli sci experiment, and 2 - i've been having the time of my life writing a book with an actual plot (i cried this week because of it)(i wrote this fic in 4 hours because i've been writing this book for months and i needed to end something). but yeah!! pretty great!!! here is some heartbreaking fic for you!!!  Also go listen to Niki - oceans and engenes while reading this ♥

Saturday sunset We're lying on my bed with five hours to go Fingers entwined and so were our minds

[Year one]

Saturdays were your new holy days.

If you started a new religion, Saturdays would be the day that would be saved and cherished. All because Saturdays started and ender in Seokmin’s arms.

It was like a clockwork. After your last Friday class – which happened to be a whole 2hours on Justice and a senior professor babbling about John Rawls when you much preferred Iris Young and her feminist critic, you would walk for thirty minutes in the outskirts of your campus until you reached your boyfriend's tiny apartment. He shared with three other dudes – Mingyu, Minghao, and Vernon. He got the smallest room, yet, in that cubicle was perfect.

“What are you thinking?” His hoarse voice rang in your ears, he drank too much (it was Jeonghan’s birthday, weird it would be if he didn’t drink his weight in alcohol) and was one step away from reaching REM sleep.

“Nothing,” you say, your fingers reaching his hair while his face is tucked on your neck.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Seokmin grumbles, with every breath and every word his lips brush against your neck.

“I just really like Saturdays,” you want to say I like our Saturdays, I like spending all day with you, I hope we could spend all days like we spend our Saturdays.

“Me too,” he says hugging your tightly on his arms, and you hope he is saying he too want to spend all days with you.

Crying, I don't want you to go You wiped away tears But not fears under the still and clear indigo You said: Baby, don't cry, we'll be fine

[Year four]

“Why are you crying?” Seokmin asks with a smile so bright on his face that it hurts on your ribcage.

“Because this sucks,” being away from you sucks, it is what you want to say but the guilty is something that doesn’t go well with your boyfriend.

“Baby,” Seokmin almost laughs, “it is just three hours on a train.” He says, his fingertips brushing away your tears, “We can handle that, just three hours away.”

He says and you want to believe him, but when his voice shakes you just hold him closer, your grip tight on his white shirt and you almost want to crawl under it. Living under his ribcage is the only way possible. To share the same air, is the only way you know how to live.

“You are acting like you don’t believe me,” he says, his arms around you, “should I be worried that my girlfriend is acting like we are on the verge of a breakup?”

Yes is the word that gets stuck in your throat.

“We talked about that, come on, we even got into the masters we wanted, this is the best-case scenario. It is just a four-hour trip we can take turns and all that.”

“Four hours,” you repeat more to you than to him, in a way trying to understand why he is so calm and collected about not spending his hours with you. Four hours. Four hours seems like a whole life away. Four hours you could cross the earth in four hours.

You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow My mother said the younger me was a pretending prodigy Well, nothing then much has changed

[Year one]

You don’t know how you met Seokmin. Really, the memory is just not there. You don’t know who is the missing link, it must be Jeonghan because Jeonghan knows everyone. You were a humanities girly you don’t know why you are in the company of biology undergraduates and people who want to be doctors.

“So, that’s the plan,” Seokmin says with a bright smile on his face, “I think working in the Intensive Care Unit would be a blast you know, I thought about working with kids but that just breaks my heart.”

“And ICU doesn’t break your heart?” You ask taking a sip of your mocha, you two have been studying in the library for the past four hours you need a sugar pick-up.

“It kinda does,” his smiles falter, “but like, people in the ICU need someone to look after them you know, too much time in that bed, and people who don’t breathe on their own need special care.”

“Well,” you take another sip of your mocha and you almost spit the coffee when you finally notice Seokmin’s big eyes on you, “I think you can do it, you would be great at it.”

“Really?” his sounds so hopeful you want to say to him that yes, you can do everything you set your mind in to, you are that special.

“Yes, I think you would be great,” you will be great at everything, “besides, dealing with kid is fine but dealing with their parents sounds like a nightmare,” you groan.

Seokmin laughs so loud you swear it fills all the empty space in the café, there is no corner where he isn’t. There is no place in your soul he hasn’t touched. You are so doomed, that this crush will kill you.

'Cause while you're wolfing down liquor My soul, it gets sicker But I'm sticking to the screenplay Gotta say I'm okay

[Year six]

You try one more time. Your dial the number again hoping your boyfriend picks up because it is fucking cold outside and because you are afraid he is fucking dead in a ditch somewhere.

After the third ring a voice that is very much not your boyfriend’s pick up.

“Hey,” Jeonghan says and he sounds so fucking guilty you don’t know how to make up your mind.

“Something happened?”

“No?”

“Jeonghan what is going on?”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing happened?” You look around the train station, and it is almost empty.

“I mean your boyfriend is wasted and can’t pick up his phone and this call woke me up and I was having a great night of sleep you know how I am I don’t get enough sleep so nothing beyond that I don’t even know why his phone is so loud-“

“Because he was supposed to pick me up,” you say breathing loudly holding your backpack up and walking towards the nearest exit.

“Pick you up?“

“Yes, it is my week, but I guess he can’t pick me up so if you just stay awake until I arrive it would be great, or hide the keys somewhere I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Jeonghan mumbles and you can hear that he is moving around, “do you want me to wake him up?”

“No,” you say already singling for a taxi. It feels like you just ate a bone that is now sitting in your throat, “no, don’t wake him up, I just don’t have anywhere else to go so-“

“No, of course, I will wait for you don’t worry.”

But answer this, babe

How is it now that somehow you're a strangеr? You were mine just yеsterday

[Year eight]

It is Jeonghan’s birthday.

It is Jeonghan’s birthday and you are in town because there is this global climate event in the same week. It is Jeonghan’s birthday and he knows you are in town because you are one of the panelists and the event shared a post on your Instagram. It is Jeonghan’s birthday and you are entering his birthday party and you can feel your brain almost leak through your ears.

And like fate is against you – because it is, fate hates you – you see Seokmin before you ever see Jeonghan. His eyes meet yours and he almost doubles check, and before he pretends you are a ghost of his past life Jeonghan screams your name and makes you enter the restaurant when you want to just walk through the door.

“You really came,” Jeonghan says, “I was about to crash your event and say fossil fuel is a good thing until they let me talk to you.”

“Yeah,” you say making yourself smile, “that’s why I came I don’t think someone claiming to be a nepo baby with Shell company trust fund in his name would help my career.”

“A man needs to do what he needs to do to make a woman appear,” Jeonghan says wisely.

Jeonghan introduces you to his friends, a few new ones that you have no idea where they met – a weird guy named Hoshi, a tall lanky guy in black who goes by Wonwoo, a broad guy with dimples that is complaining about the restaurant service that is named Seungcheol. A few old ones that you once knew, Vernon still the same you think – sometimes too lost in himself, but always too sweet, Seokmin – not the same you think, Seokmin is the one on this table that you don’t have idea who this person is. Seokmin, you think, is a stranger to you now, after a year or two, you no nothing about him. You don’t know his schedule, you don’t know about the last restaurant he got addicted to, you don’t know what is going on his life.

I prayed the block in my airway dissipates And instead deters your airplane's way But heaven denied Destiny decried Something beautiful died Too soon

[Year Six]

“It is really important to me,” Seokmin says his voice muffled on the phone. You stare at his picture on the screen – his big smile, his eyes scrunched, his hair all over the place.

“So you are not coming this week?”

“Can we skip? I can go in two weeks so you don’t have to come I know how much you hate the train.”

“I don’t hate the train,” you grumble, “is just the hours don’t match up so I have to wait for the last train, and then is not always great to get a taxi at three am when all the taxi drivers might be potential fuckers.”

“I am sorry ok?” Seokmin breathes and you almost bite your own tongue, “why can’t you let it go?”

Because I am still angry, you want to say but you are so fucking tired of those fights, maybe that’s why you are still angry because it is always over the phone, never in person, he never sees the aftermath of it. He never sees you suffering.

“I mean, whatever works for you, really, this week, in two weeks, if you don’t want to come this month it is also great like it is already august maybe we should save it till Christmas, it is not a big deal.”

You leash it out before you hang up on his face.

But I'm letting go I'm giving up the ghost But don't get me wrong I'll always love you

[Year one]

It is your third or fourth time on Seokmin’s bed, under his sheets. There is a layer of sweat between your body but is not like you two care. Your fingers drawn little constellations in his skin, trailing against his spots. One in the middle of his chest, one in his ribs, one in his collar bones. You want to know every single one, you want to create a path – a route. Thinking that maybe, if you remember every single one of them, if you know where to turn, you will always find home. Home, the one on his cheeks, your favorite one.

“You know I love you right?” Seokmin asks his hand on your nape.

Your breath hitches. Stuck on your lungs. Yes, you think. And I love you just as much, I love you so much that the mere idea of not loving you seems unfathomable, I love you so much that I forgot who I was before loving you. But kissing him is easier, and when his lips are on yours you pray for all the gods to make him understand every unspoken word.

That's why I wrote you this very last song I guess this is where we say goodbye I know I'll be alright Someday I'll be fine But just not tonight (oh)

[Year two]

“You know you are my favorite person in the world, right?” You ask your boyfriend who just gives you a bright smile.

He is sitting by your side in the living room of his shared apartment, it is February and it is the middle of the semester, and yet, Seokmin proudly told you that he got his greatest gift ever – a weekend without his roommates and a week off dishes duty. There is a cake – small, strawberry, with candles on it, on the table and you two are waiting for the clock to hit twelve o’clock so you two can celebrate his birth.

“No,” he says, a pout on his face, “I really have no idea, you don’t tell me enough.”

“That’s not the truth,” you grumble, and you think it might be the truth because you are not really good with words but you are sure that your boyfriend is just overreacting.

“Come on, tell me.” He says while he kisses your cheeks, “it is my birthday you can’t tell me no.”

“It is not your birthday yet.”

“Come on,” he pouts again, “please? As a birthday gift.”

“I already brought your gift and it is better than this.”

“Nothing is better than hearing you saying I am your favorite person ever,” he says his hands on your waist, his leg flushed on your back when he sits facing the side of your face.

He sounds so earnest that you give him what he wants, just because it is his birthday, just because it is a special day. “I love you, you are the most special person ever, every day I thank your mother before I go to bed because she put the most special guy in the world and even though it is your birthday I am the one that received the most special gift that is sharing my life with you, and every day is a bless with you baby,” you say watching his smile grows bigger, “happy?”

“The happiest,” he tells you.

“Come on, we need to light the candles,” you say watching the clock hit.

Plunging into all kinds of diversions Like blush wine and sonorous soirées But even with gin and surgin' adrenaline I see you're all that can intoxicate

[Year seven]

“It is weird, isn’t it?” Seokmin’s voice rings in your ears while you look through the window of the restaurant, watching the car dance on the street under the moonlight.

“What?” You ask and it sounds inaudible even to your own ears, your voice small like you are hoping he is not talking to you.

“Us,” Seokmin says like he still believes in this world there is an us, “in the same place like this, is weird, I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“Hm”, you hum trying to say something and not being incredibly bitchy about everything because you are the one that doesn’t belong, Seokmin is always here, you are the one who isn’t. Jeonghan is more his friend than yours, “I think it is bound to be weird, I think it would be worse if we acted like nothing happened.”

“Right,” he says taking one more sip of his beer.

You almost laugh. Maybe you still know Seokmin because when his eyes lock in yours again you know that you said the very same thing he didn’t want to hear.

It feels like you are polar opposites.

Oceans and engines You're skilled at infringin' on great love affairs 'Cause now my heart's home All I've known is long gone and ten thousand miles away And I'm not okay

[Year six]

When your phone rings for the third time Seokmin’s photo lights up the whole room. Your tears feel cold against your face. And you take another sip of your cheap and all not that great wine. It has been three days since you spoke with Seokmin, but it is the first day that you can cry and break down and suffer.

It was a dick fucking move. He broke up with you over a phone call. Dick move. Worse, he broke up with you over a phone call in the worst week ever – finals week. You had three articles due – one on authoritarian governments, one on gender studies and political participation of women, and one on fossil fuel and climate policies. You had already brought a train ticket. You have already chosen a restaurant to celebrate surviving the first year of going long distance.

You gulp down another sip of your wine, maybe you should drink from the bottle.

You told him that going long distance was insane. You told him it would never work out. It was a three hours train ride he said. You two could make it work he said, you two could conquer all he said. And he broke up with you over a phone call – not even a video call, a phone call like people did in the 90s. A phone call to tell you that it was too hard, that it was too complicated, that he was tired and you too were fighting too much.

A phone call to tell you that maybe this isn’t working.

But I'm letting go I'm giving up the ghost But don't get me wrong I'll always love you that's why I wrote you this very last song I guess this is where we say goodbye I know I'll be alright But just not

[Year seven]

You are explaining Wonwoo – a soon-to-be cardiologist, and Vernon – still unsure about his future but maybe psychiatry, what a carbon footprint is. And how capitalism will lead the earth to its collapse. Small talk. Seungcheol don’t really knows how the world will work if capitalism is dethroned as the only one system in the world that even worked – according to himself. Everything is ok. Is not at all great because you can physically feel Seokmin’s eyes on you, until he gets up the table and acts like he is not interrupting the table’s conversation;

“Hey, can we talk?”

You look around waiting for someone say sure and get up the table until every eye is on you. No, we can’t fucking talk, you want to bite. No, I don’t ever want to talk to you, I actually prefer smack my head against every surface on this place before talking to you, you want to say. But instead, you just say “Sure.”  

You follow Seokmin’s steps until the two of you cross the streets and sit in a bench. He sits staring at the sea, his shoes on the sand and you ask yourself if you want to get your shoes full of sand or ruin them. The answer is no. But facing the opposite way – the streets, the restaurant, facing Jeonghan sitting in the restaurant with his neck strained to watch your every move is not an option. So you take your shoes off before sitting on his side.

“What are we doing?” Seokmin asks when you finally sit. He is still looking forward, and you don’t know if it is the moon, if it is longing, if it still the love buried under your chest, but he still looks good. His nose still big and straight, his lips still full, his eyes so clear.

“I don’t know,” you tell him.

“No, really what we are doing?” He asks you finally looking at you and it hits you like a truck.

“I really don’t know Seokmin,” You tell him, “I don’t have a fucking clue, for the past year or so I don’t know what I am doing with my own life, let alone what I am doing right now, talking with my fucking ex on a fucking beach in a city we have never been on,” you say and you know you sound bitter but with the years you learned it was always better to tell him everything than to bite down your tongue.

“That bad hun?” He says taking a sip of his bear.

“The worst,” you look at him again, his eyes on the sea.

“It hadn’t been great either,” he says blinking slowly, his eyes still bright as the moon, “I mean, on my side, it hadn’t been great either.”

“I am sorry,” it is your time to look at the sea – so vast, so big, so dark, “I am really sorry, but half of it might be my prayers to the gods.”

You hear Seokmin chuckle, it is bitter and you hate it. You miss him so much that you will pray for the gods again – to erase him from your mind, to make your heart go back to its normal state and size, to make you go to yourself before Seokmin has laid his finger on you.

“Well,” Seokmin offers you his beer, “I can’t say I wasn’t angry either, we are a piece of work, aren’t we?”

We, it rings on your ears, we, us, does these pronouns even make sense to be used when the subject is Seokmin and you? In your vain hope, you say it doesn’t you say it can’t be used. You want to make a new grammar rule. You want to create an exception. When, Seokmin and you, are in the picture the pronouns we and us cannot be used, and if you are being bitter mine and my as well as ours are forbidden.

But you are afraid that will always be something you used to share in this life.

“What the fuck are we doing right now Seokmin?” Is your time to ask.

“I don’t have a fucking idea,” he says, “I just hate how things end up with us I guess, I really thought we were it you know,” his feet press on the sand making the tip of his shoes go under it, “I really thought we would make it through everything, and I hate myself that we didn’t, and this past year has been hell.” He chuckles the bitter sound again, how can a laugh be so fucking humorless?

“It was me,” he looks at you face all serious, stern, all hard angles and pointy shapes, “it was me who saw that you would be in town, I have been keeping tabs, fuck I even call your mom every week and I’m pretty sure she pitties me which is fucking insane because she could just tell me not to call but she tells me what is going on, she sent me pics of your brother’s kid and I know he would be pissed at that because I know he hates my guts,” when you feel the tears drip down your chest you know it is too late.

Tonight was the first time I stared into seas of beguiling sepia two years ago And the first time I learned real world superpowers lived in three words, they revitalize my fraying bones Now what do you do when your pillar crumbled down You've lost all solid ground Both dreams and demons drowned

[Year three]

“We can pick the same schools,” Seokmin says while doing the only thing you hate – chewing his food way too loudly.

“Right, because our dream programs happen to be in the same university,” you say picking up a new slice of your side of the pizza – chicken, he hates it. Seokmin’s half is pepperoni, which you always steal a slice because you love pepperoni, and you love chicken, you love all types of pizza that don’t include fruit.

“I mean,” he puts down his slice when he opens his mouth to have another bite when you give him the most furious look ever. “Sorry,” he says his voice small, “We can try all the universities in the region?  Of course, we have our dream picks, and okay we don’t really need to give up on that if we get in, but we can try more options just to be sure and try to get into programs in the same regions?”

“What if we get into our number one pick and we are like ten hours away?” You ask breathing deeply. It hurts just to think about it. It feels like the ceiling is too low and it is crushing your spine.

“A lot of phone calls,” Seokmin says, mouth fool of pizza again, “I think we can ask Jeonghan a loan or two. He can be our Shark, his interest rates might include a lung or a kidney, he may ask for a brain to train for his surgeries, but I mean it will be worth it.”

And this void's all you've found And doubts light it aglow I have so many questions But I'm pouring them into the ocean And I'm starting up my engine

[Year one]

The first time Seokmin kissed you was in Jeonghan’s kitchen.

You think the sink is full, and there are more cups on the kitchen table than people in his house, but nothing really matters when Seokmin’s lips find yours and you can feel his lips stretching out on a smile.

“Can we get the hell out of here?” Seokmin asks, his body pressing yours against a wall, his hand on your waist and neck and why you want to ask him, why you want to leave? Right here is perfect there is no other place I rather be.

“We can go to my place,” he says, his lips kissing the skin where your neck and shoulder met, “I mean all the boys are right here so we can have the apartment to ourselves.”

“Right now?” You ask but really what you want to say is Right now? Move? Getting out of your embrace? Stopping this?

“Yeah, it is like three blocks away,” Seokmin chuckles and you ask yourself if you said all that out loud.

“Okay,” you say, your hand getting under the collar of his shirt and touching his back – your hand trying to touch more of his skin, maybe if you spread your fingers you can touch more of his.

And I'm letting go I'm givin' up your ghost It's come to a close I marked the end with this last song I wrote I'm letting go This is the last falsetto I'll ever sing to you My great lost love

[Year seven]

You know it is a mistake.

And you know you would do this mistake over and over again when you smell his sheets. He still uses the same fabric softener. He still uses the same cologne. He still is the Seokmin that you used to know, the Seokmin you once loved. He is still the same.

The problem is that you don’t know if you are.

You don’t know if you are the same person that he once loved.

“What are you thinking?” He asks in your ear, low. You love his voice, still the same. His thumb traces over your lips.

You trace his mole with your finger – heart, ribcage, collarbones. Home. How can home be so far away? How can be home a place you cannot return?

“What is going on in your mind?” He asks again, his legs interwind with yours, his hand splayed on your back.

That we fucked up, you want to say, that we shouldn’t have done this, is the other option, that I will cry all over again, that I will ache in all the places that I thought I’ve healed, that I will miss you all the same, that I am back on square one. That I don’t know if I can ever love someone like I loved you, like I still love you, like I will love you. That I will carry this love till I die because you were once a part of my life and it will always have a before and after you in my life. That now I am thinking about taking you to meet my niece, I want to see her grow on your side, I want you in my life and this last year has been unbearable, I think death will be kinder and softer than this year has been. You want to say all that but you don’t think you can do so without crying.

[shhh-secret-time]

We're back with another Soulmate AU request AND another request from AO3, they're so rare these days! I wanted to do something special for Craig, I kind of feel like he'd be a fuck destiny kinda guy. Anyway y'all know the drill.

Warning: Hot Pokemon takes, Strong-Language, Clyde being a dork again

Pairing: Craig x GN!Reader

Crack

"Hm.."

Snap

"Dude. Stop."

Pop

"Dude! Stop!"

Clyde's voice pulls Craig's gaze over, the bored expression on his face would normally make anyone flinch back but Clyde's used to the look. Years of friendship with the stoic man will desensitize anyone to that kind of look. Craig swears it's just because Clyde's an idiot, no one else in South Park takes that kind of tone with him.

"You sound like a glow-stick over there! I swear you've already popped all those fingers a minute ago, are you on your knuckles now or something?" Clyde puts his DS down on his lap with a grumble.

He's slouched so far down on Craig's couch it looks like he's melting into it, the lower half of his body is barely on the couch at all. He's all but holding himself up with his legs while his back rests on the firm cushions beneath him. He looked like a slinky being tossed down the stairs, but if it got stuck going down a step.

"You're in my house." Craig responded so matter of fact.

Then he finished cracking the hand he was in the middle of working on. He presses his thumb against each finger on his hand. Once each little finger makes that satisfying sound, he wraps his hand around the other and squeezes. His thumb and index finger settle just below the knuckles, feeling the muscles and bone shift under his grip a shiver runs down his spine.

"Gaaaaaah! That doesn't hurt you? You're gonna fuck up your hands man." Clyde physically squirms at the sound, twisting and rolling back and forth as if he's trying to escape the sound.

"No. I like it." Craig picks his DS up from his lap and continues playing on the little handheld device.

"Alright but when you have old grandpa hands at the age of twenty-five don't come crying to me. Spongebob broken finger head-ass." Clyde smirks, returning to the game with his friend.

Craig side eyes him, shooting a small glare his direction but it goes unnoticed. Once again, Clyde is lucky he's one of his best friends. Being stupid makes you brave apparently.

The two fall into a comfortable silence, the music from Clyde's DS playing loudly while Craig's is shut off. The sound of both games going on at once drove Craig mad. If the music didn't line up it felt like someone jabbing him in the head. So, he settled for listening to Clyde's, he knew the brown-haired man liked the Pokemon sound track anyway. A small tradition they started in middle school that's held up. Playing Pokemon next to each other on the weekends, if one got Green the other got Red. If one got Sapphire, the other got Ruby. Right now, Craig has Diamond, and he has Pearl.

Craig was no means a perfectionist, but something about the incomplete Pokedex drove him mad. He hated looking at the black silhouette of a Pokemon uncaught, the taunting ??? made him want to spike the thing into the ground. They would spend hours next to one another talking about their teams, racing to see who could beat the Elite Four before the other, making fun of each other's favorite Pokemon. Craig long since beat the game and was just waiting on Clyde to catch up, he was still waiting on Clyde to catch his Slowpoke like he promised him forever ago.

Clyde was a Slowpoke.

He chuckles at the thought making Clyde look up at him with his brow raised but he chooses not to say anything. After a while Craig closes his DS and chooses to watch Clyde walk around the tall grass.

"You're using the Scyther I traded you?" he asks, resting his cheek on top of Clyde's head. Holding himself up right now sounded exhausting, Clyde made the perfect head rest. Even if he wasn't slumped down on the couch, their height difference allowed for it. To be fair Craig's height difference allowed him to do this to just about anyone. The only person he couldn't comfortably do this too would be Broflovski.

"Yeah! He’s my favorite! He's a handsome devil, reminds me of myself!" Clyde tucks his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, the smug smirk on his lips makes his face look stupid.

"Do you wanna evolve him? You can trade him over and we can turn him into a Scizor."

"Nah, then I'll lose all the affection I've been building him with! Look I've got two little hearts by his head! He loves me man!"

"You can build it back."

"Maybe you can toss away your Pokemon’s affection, but not me Tucker! He doesn't need to change! He's perfect the way he is!" Clyde exclaims as he throws his hand in the air.

Craig's about to respond but stops when Clyde encounters another Pokemon, a Pachirisu nothing out of the normal. But what was out of the normal was the stripe on its tail wasn't the typical baby blue, it was a bright pink. Craig's eyes widen as the sparkles swirl around the little animated creature.

And typical Clyde just button mashes through the whole thing, he's not paying attention to the DS, going on about his love for his Scyther. His thumb moves over the attack button and Craig wants to grab his hand to stop him. But once again he's not fast enough, and the low leveled thing is easily defeated by his level sixty something Pokemon.

"Um dude...you know I love hugs and all, but I thought you hated them?" Clyde's voice is muffled under Craig. Craig has him pinned under him against the couch, chest pressed into his side, arm outstretched to grab the DS.

"Dude! That was a shiny! You could have caught that!" Craig's exclaims shaking the man under him.

"What?! Oh man! I didn't know!"

"How the fuck didn't you know?! It sparkled! It's fucking pink!"

"Uh...was it?"

"What?" Craig stops shaking him at that, tightened fists around his collar loosen only slightly.

"I didn't know, you know I'm color-blind right?" Clyde takes the opportunity to sit up, he chuckles at Craig's expression.

Although rare, it's not unheard of. Craig isn't a robot, or a man born without emotions, he just has a hard time expressing them sometimes. Clyde knows that, but it's still funny every time he sees that crack in Craig's usual stoic nature. Even more so that it was over a stupid video game and Clyde's inability to see color.

So instead of responding to him Craig shakes his head and furrows his brows, confusion written clear on his face.

"Yeah man," Clyde takes a breath in between cackling. "I'm completely color blind, lost it when we were in high school. It's my soulmate thing. I see in black and white now." He waves his hand over his face with a dorky grin.

He doesn't respond at first, taking a moment to take in what his best friend was saying. "I just thought you dressed like that on purpose."

"Come on dude! Would it kill you to say something nice to me?! Just oNCE!?" Clyde smacks him with the cushion tucked behind him which Craig uses to beat him back.

After a brutal beat down using a couch cushion, Craig pulls back the weapon and looks down at the defeated pile of Donovan further pressed into his couch. He sits back with his leg pulled up towards his chest, arm thrown lazily across his knee.

"So, you can't see color because you haven't met your soulmate? That sounds rough."

"Yeah, it kinda sucks, it's gonna sound gay but I miss seeing things like the sunset and movies are kinda lame now. I still wear this jacket because at least I know it's red." Clyde collects himself and tries to fix his hair that's been flattened down.

"Hm." A low grunt and Craigs on his feet.

To anyone else it would be the end of the conversation, it would be their que to move on and talk about something else. But Clyde isn't just anyone. He's the guy who's been with Craig since they were kids, he knows that grunt. That shift in body language. Craig's uncomfortable but wants to say something.

"Come on Tucker Bear don't be like that, tell me what's going on." The nickname earns him a glare, but it stops the black haired man from going to the kitchen. He grins at him in return, telling Craig that he's getting what he wants.

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"That you love it so much and you're so grateful that your best friend would give you the best nickname ever." The sentence is almost cut short from the way he scrambles back away from Craig, holding his hands up defensively. His voice is cracking from the way he tries to keep the giggle out of it.

Craig stops and sighs, his hands come up to the strings on the side of his hat. The frayed yellow rope splitting at the ends from how often he twists it between his fingertips. He does it when he needs to collect his thoughts, figure out a way to put them into words.

".... you didn't tell me you got your Soulmate thing." It finally comes out in a soft tone.

"Are you upset because I didn't tell you? I'm sorry man." Clyde's silly demeanor drops, quickly shifting to one that matches his friend’s tone. He stands up and follows him into the kitchen.

"No. I just..." A pause and he opens the fridge door. Scanning the inside for something to drink, his mouth is incredibly dry right now. "...didn't know. I thought you were like me."

"Like you?"

"Like...born without a mark or whatever."

"Oh."

That's all he can say, all that comes out of his mouth. Craig snaps the can of soda open and takes a sip and it feels like a rock settling in his stomach. His lips press together tasting the sugary drink on his lips. The rock in his stomach lurches up when he sees Clyde's eyes well up with tears, little beads of water spilling from his lids. For the second time that day, he makes Craig's eyes widen.

"Are you crying?"

He quickly goes to wipe the tears away from his brown eyes, the little orbs always looked like a baby cow's. Using the sleeves on his jacket, he sniffles and looks up at him. "It's just- you don't have a soulmate!"

"Yeah, I know."

"That's so sad dude!"

"I guess."

He sobs again, the tears spill faster and harder down his face. Craig sighs and gives into the over dramatic man an awkward pat on the back. The rest of the day was spent calming Clyde down and reassuring him that he wasn't actually angry at him for killing the shiny. They watch a few episodes of Red Racer where Craig describes the colors for him until he got tired of it.

All through the day the conversation gnawed at the back of his head. It followed him to bed and kept him from sleeping. Clyde refused to go home so he spent the night on the floor next to him. Didn't want to sleep on the couch but didn't want to sleep in the bed with him. Wanted to be near but not close enough to make Craig want to peel his skin off. He appreciated the idiot.

But it was that idiots fault he was thinking so hard on this. Why was he born without a soul-mate tic, or thing or whatever the fuck it was called. Were there others like him or was Craig Tucker really that just unlucky? Why did he care so much, he made it this far in life by himself. So why was it just now starting to eat at him?

With a huff he turned and rolled over towards the window next to his bed, staring up at the night sky. The moon was half full today, and it was cloudy out so he could barely see the stars. He was a grown man majoring in Astronomy, he didn't need a stupid mark to tell him where to go and who to be with. He could still see color fine. No flowers were blooming out of his face making his allergies act up.

No, it was just him. Just him and whatever was out there waiting for him. Right now, he really wanted it to be sleep.

Eventually he gave in to the tired behind his eyes, lids so heavy he couldn’t keep them open anymore but burned when he finally closed them. Clyde was gone the next morning when he finally woke up, he left him a text saying he was going to pick his sister up and do something with her.

It didn't matter he had class to get to anyway, the semester was in full swing, and he didn't have time to fall behind. As he gets ready, pulling his blue hat over his head and the matching NASA jacket over his shoulders, he peers down at his DS left on the side table. He picks it up and tucks it into the pockets of the jacket, in between classes he could wait in the lounge and play on it a little more. There wasn't much left to do but he could always grind his team to a hundred.

Once he feels ready, he steps out of his house and starts the walk to the bus stop. Ever since he moved out of his parents the walk to the college campus took a little longer than normal, so it was easier to just ride the bus there. He sticks his headphones in and settles in the worn-out seats of the dirty looking white bus. Somehow cleaner than the yellow ones from when he was still a teenager, but not by much. The music from his DS playing in his ears drowns out the sounds of people mumbling to themselves and whatever other weird thing South Park could throw at him.

It also drowns out your footsteps. Drowns out your question if the seat next to him was taken. So, it isn't until he feels you sitting next to him that he notices you're there. He side-eyes you for a moment, which you return with a little nod. A part of him is relieved when you don't immediately try to make small talk with him. Instead, you offer him a little smile and go back to the book in your hand. His amber eyes travel down to peek at what it is you're reading, and he's surprised when instead of a textbook he sees a comic.

Guardians of the Galaxy

From the angle you were holding it, he couldn't tell exactly what issue you were on, but the cover looked good. He cocks his head to the side a little to get a better look. Feeling his eyes on you, you look up at him and raise a brow. It takes a second, but you piece together what he's trying to do so you close the comic and show it off to him.

You're on an issue he's already read through. He removes the headphones from his ear.

"I didn't think anyone else read the Guardians series." Craig says, it's out of pocket for him to be the first to initiate but the thought of meeting someone who's a fan like him is actually exciting. It's enough to pull him out of his little mental funk.

"Yeah! I just started collecting these issues last week! Have you read this series?" You say with a smile that’s a little too bright for him.

He nods again at you, and that's where the conversation should have ended. You go back to your reading, and he goes back to his game. But it doesn't, you lean over and catch a glimpse at what he's playing. He watches the recognition sparkle up in your eyes.

"Oh, which one is that? Gen four, right?"

"Yeah. It's Diamond."

"Oh! Cool! I've got Platinum! I gotta default to the third one because I don't have friends who play the game!" You laugh at your own joke, eyes going from the DS to his.

Craig stares down at you for a while. He sets the DS in his lap and pushes the palm of his hand against his fingers. Hands popping and snapping again, the little tic making him relax. You don't comment like Clyde does, but you are still talking.

"Gen four has to be my favorite in the series! I just couldn't get into Black and White!" That makes him stop and look at you like you're crazy.

"That's the best one in the series though."

"That's what everyone tells me, but I hated the starters!"

Time slips past him, the way you pull him into the conversation so naturally. It isn't until the bus pulls up to the campus that he realizes he's been talking to you the entire time. You perk up when the bus lets out a sigh and a hiss, telling its passengers that they've reached their destination.

"Oh, this is my stop! Hey, it was awesome talking with you!" You grin and stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You give him a little finger salute and take off, you're so quick to scurry away he doesn't have time to tell you that this is his stop too. Of course he's never noticed you around campus before, Craig was never one to waste his energy on things that didn't require it. He had his select group of friends and was happy with that, but now here you were wedging your way into his mind. As he stands up to get off the bus, lazily throwing the headphones over his neck, it dawns on him that he didn't even catch your name.

Oh well, so much for that. Maybe he'd see you around.

The universe must have answered that for him because the next morning he sees you on the bus again. He watches as you push past the isle of seats and plop down next to him with another book in your hand. A different issue, a different conversation. There are days where you sit in silence doing your own thing. Then there are days where you talk his ear off and he just sits and listens, occasionally throwing in his thoughts on whatever you're talking about.

But he listens. That was new, normally he just tends to zone out if he doesn't care. Somehow you find a way to make him care, a way to make him invested in the conversation. He even goes out of his way to learn your name and what you're studying.

"Ah it's just general studies right now, a little bit of everything until I figure out what I wanna do. I wasn't even planning on going to college, it just kinda happened." You tell him leaning back in your seat.

"What, so you just woke up one day and decided that was it?" Craig scoffs a bit at the idea but the amused glint in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Heh. Well Mr. Space-boy not all of us know what we wanna do with life from the womb." You snicker at his reaction, tallying another eyeroll in your head.

"It's Space-Man. I'm Space-Man Craig." He corrects you before moving on, so you don't comment on the little pink hue on his face. "I get that but how do you go from I'm not going to college, to just doing it?"

You smile, it's different than the dorky one you usually shoot at him or the one when you tell a bad joke. It almost seems sad. He can't put his finger on it, but he doesn't need to wait long for you to roll up your sleeve. On your wrist is a font that looks almost like an alarm clock, the block black ink reads "0:00".

"Had this guy I was with. Was with him for six years, we were high-school sweethearts, prom date, whole nine yards. They were my soulmate, the little counter on my wrist told me that much." You take a deep breath, and he watches the way your fingers move across the skin.

He pops his fingers again, pushing them against each other.

"Well, about a year ago I realized...I kinda hated it? Hated the fact this stupid mark on my body got to dictate who I fell in love with? I mean we didn't even have anything in common, and while we never really argued we just had a different outlook on life. I think a part of me still loves him, but...I can't really love him in the way this thing wants me to." You emphasize that you're talking about the marking on your skin by holding it up.

Little rays of sunlight brush across your skin and Craig can't help but follow it. You had a soulmate, of course you did. He feels that rock in his stomach again, weighing heavier than it did last time. The week he got where he wasn't thinking about this whole thing was nice, but now that he's reminded his body tenses back up.

He cracks his fingers again, squeezing the side of the palm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trauma dump on you." He raises a brow at you silently asking you what you mean by that. "Call it a sixth sense, or the fact that you pop your fingers and do that little Hm when you're thinking about something. So, I figured you were annoyed by the random dump."

You were more attentive than he would have given you credit for. He hasn't known you that long and you're already picking up on things that took Clyde years to. Then again, Clyde and attentive don't really go hand in hand.

"No, it's not you. It's the..." He rolls his wrist a few times trying to find the words, fingers eventually find purchase on the strings of his hat dangling by his face. "Soul-mate thing. I don't have one."

"Ah yeah, I can see how that's a weird topic for you then! But hey that's kind of cool!" You beam up at him, the sunlight slips off your wrists and onto your lips.

Wait, what?

"You get to pick who you wanna love, that's awesome. That means the connection goes deeper! You gotta build something with someone, nothing telling you to just jump straight into a relationship! No pressure, just you and the other person!" Your eyes are like little stars as you speak. A tiny galaxy that he can't seem to pull himself out of.

Wait, what?

Like clockwork, the bus stops and you go to get up. Except this time Craig is fast enough, he takes your hand. His fingers slip into your palm and stop you from moving. Your finger salute falls back to your side. He just looks at you for a while, the only thing he can hear right now is the collection of people getting off the bus and his own heartbeat drumming in his chest.

"If you're not getting off, I need you to sit down please!" The bus driver makes you flinch and sit back down next to Craig.

"Sorry sir!" You call back.

When you look back at him with a confused look, he freezes again. His mouth hangs open for a second, only to close. He almost looks like a fish out of water from the way he's trying to collect his thoughts. Craig expects you to get back up and tell him goodbye. To run off the bus and never speak to him again.

Instead, you sit there, patiently waiting for him to collect himself. You wait there even when the door to the bus shuts and the engine kicks back on. You look at him with wonder and he has to avert his gaze from you. Pulling his hat over his eyes for a moment because he realizes he's still holding your hand and the heat coming up to his face is too much.

"I... I’m sorry. I just wanted to-" What did he want? His mind was drawing a blank, he was floating and the only teather was your hand in his.

He knew he wanted to keep holding your hand. He knows your touch doesn't bother him like it should. He wants to steal a few more moments with you because these bus rides aren't enough time. Something he's never felt before.

"You're good. Take your time." You can't know what that means to him to hear you say that. To not pull your hand away and call him a freak for just grabbing you like that. Instead, you turn your palm over and give his hand a squeeze back.

"I want to...do that." He says it. With his eyes covered so he's not blinded by that smile on your face. He can hear it in your voice, the way you chuckle.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm trying to say."

"Maybe. You better say it just so I can be sure." You're teasing him now, leaning forward so you can get a peek at his blushing face.

Craig huffs again, frustration building up in his chest. He moves the hat from his face and stares you down like a showdown. His brows knitted together with newfound determination.

"I want to build a connection past this." There. It's out. Out in the open, out in the space between the both of you. Confession falls from his mouth in that monotone voice he's so famous for.

"Hell yeah. I'd like that Space-Man Craig." You laugh and it sounds so sweet.

He smiles down at you, and it feels like a gift. It's the first time you've seen him look at you like that. You make a silent promise to yourself that it will not be the last time you see it.

"So, any idea where the bus is going now?"

"No idea. Wanna get off at the next stop and walk to campus?"

"Nope! You stopped me from going to class so now you're taking me out. I want food!"

Craig scoffs at you and takes the headphones off his neck, he offers you the other bud. He sticks the one in his ear and pulls out his phone. His fingers slide across the screen going for the music app. He hands you the phone and gestures for you to pick something.

You excitedly take him up on the offer, sticking the bud in your ear. You begin going on about whatever album you’ve been listening to, and the whole ride he sits and listens to you. Nodding along so you know he’s listening, not that he really has to. You can tell from the way he looks at you that you have his undivided attention.

So wrapped up in the music and your voice he doesn’t even notice the font on your wrist change. It’s not that boring clock anymore, it shifts and swirls around. A moving tattoo that eventually turns into a painting melting down your arm. The deep darkness of space with a little astronaut sitting on the moon, just watching the sun.

[writingwithciara]

Broken Bond (part 3) ~Chris Sturniolo~

summary: the 'l' word has been put into play. what will come from it?

word count: 4k

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

notes: with the way the last part ended, i couldn't leave y'all hanging on whether chris meant what he said or not. [mentions of sexual content but nothing explicit]

masterlist

y/n stared at chris for longer than she wanted, zoning out in the process.

"hey. you okay?"

"yeah. i'm just gonna head on back up to matt's room. he'll probably be wondering where i am."

"oh. okay." chris watched as she got dressed quickly. he knew matt wouldn't care if she stayed in his room for the night but she was acting weird so he sat up. "hey. i didn't mean it, okay?"

"no. it's fine. honestly. thank you." she smiled softly at him before retreating up the stairs.

chris stared at the door, hoping she'd come back. but she didn't.

y/n looked at the clock on the microwave as she passed through the kitchen.

3:28

had she really been in chris' room for an hour? it didn't seem like it.

she quietly made her way back into matt's room and slid under the covers, being careful not to wake him. her eyes felt heavy but her brain was going crazy and her heart was beating rapidly. there was no way she would be getting any sleep.

by the time the sun was up, y/n had come to the conclusion that chris only used the 'l' word because it was in the heat of the moment, not because he meant it. if he had actually loved her like he claimed, he wouldn't have abandoned their friendship 6 years ago.

deep in thought, y/n didn't notice matt waking up beside her.

"hey. what's got you up so early?"

"couldn't sleep." she sighed and began to pick at her nails, something matt hated. he placed his hand on hers and she looked over at him.

"is something wrong? you know you can talk to me about it, y/n."

"nothing's wrong." she avoided eye contact, knowing he could tell she was lying. he knew anyway.

"does this have anything to do with chris?"

y/n sighed and finally made eye contact with her best friend. "how do you somehow always know, matt?"

"you two have been acting really weird around each other since you told us you caught him in his room. i figured your weird mood now had something to do with that."

"is this why you're so quiet? do you just observe everything?" y/n smiled.

"duh. someone needs to know things & it's not going to be nick or chris."

"good point." y/n looked at the door. "can i tell you something?"

"you know you can." he turned so his full attention was on her.

"okay, well let me start from the beginning." y/n paused for a second before looking at her hands. "when i caught chris in his room, he was getting off to a picture of me. so i offered to help him if he ever needed it. and last night, after we got back from doing everything, i couldn't sleep so i went to his room to see if maybe he needed dome help. and one thing led to another and we had sex."

"wait, for real? like, full on penetration?"

"amongst other things, yeah. then he said he loved me and i came back here." y/n turned her head towards matt when she heard him chuckling. "it's not funny, matthew."

"it kind of is. think about it. you've had feelings for chris for a long time but he was ignoring you, right? then it turns out he's been standing on the sidelines waiting for you to forgive him. then, this whole thing happens where you catch him pleasuring himself."

"gross word."

"but then, he finally got what he's always wanted & he used a word he's never used with a girl before and you just got up and left without saying anything back?"

"well, i did say thank you."

"dude,that is definitely not what someone wants to hear after they confess their feelings to you."

"what if it wasn't genuine? what if it was just because of the moment?"

"y/n, don't be stupid. chris has genuinely liked you for a really long time. granted, he made a stupid choice but if you truly think about that, it was because he didn't know how to control himself around you."

"matt, can you please take this seriously?" y/n climbed out of the bed and began to pace his room. "i'm freaking out here."

"sweetheart, you need to relax." matt stood in front of her and stopped her pacing. "now there is a man downstairs who has never felt this way about a girl before. like ever. okay, maybe he said the 'l' word a little too fast but it really is new to him. you gotta give him the benefit of the doubt and let him know how you feel."

"i want to, matt. believe me i do. i truly love him and i have no idea how to back track on what i said. what if he doesn't think i love him because i said the worst thing i could after a beautiful, intimate moment? he's gonna think i'm an idiot."

"and he'll love you so much more for it, i guarantee it. trust me when i say that there is nothing you could say that would make him not love you." matt smiled. "besides, you guys have already had sex. it's not like you'll have to get over that hurdle in your relationship now."

"thanks, matt. that makes me feel so much better." y/n rolled her eyes, but smiled at matt.

"come on now. you got to go talk to chris." he gently pushed her out of the room. y/n went to the kitchen and checked the clock.

7:38

there was no way chris would be awake yet unless he was in the same situation as she was.

y/n sat on the couch and put netflix on the tv. seconds later, her phone buzzed beside her. she picked it up and rolled her eyes at the message she received.

matty b💙: babe that doesn't sound like you're talking to chris 🙄

she tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her and stood at the top of the stairs. there was a faint light coming from chris' bedroom. she wanted to go down to talk to him but her feet wouldn't move.

chris was down in his room thinking about what he said. how could he have used the 'l' word so soon? what was he thinking?

he knew he had pushed her away, even if only a little, but it still bothered him that after what they had gone through, she couldn't show him the same amount of affection. maybe it was time to get over her once and for all.

his phone was in his hand and he quickly scrolled through instagram. he looked for anyone, or anything, that would keep his mind off of y/n.

but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to message any girls back. all he wanted to do was talk to y/n.

so he sent her a text.

y/n's phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down at the screen.

chris🙈: are you awake? chris🙈: if so, please come to my room chris🙈: we need to talk 🙃

y/n slowly made the descent down to chris' room. she stood outside the door for a few seconds before the door flew open.

"hey. i was just about to go find you." chris took a deep breath as y/n wordlessly walked into the room. he shut the door and leaned against it.

"what did you want to talk about, chris?"

"i wanted to let you know that what i said earlier, after we....you know....i didn't mean it. i know it scared you off and i apologize. it never should've come out of my mouth."

"it's okay chris."

"no, it's not. i have never ever said it before and when i say it & mean it for the first time, it's not going to be after sex."

"oh. okay. got it." she looked down at her feet. "is that all?"

"i guess. from my side at least." he looked at her. "anything you want to say?"

"not that i can think of." y/n felt her heart breaking as she processed his words. "thanks for letting me know."

"no problem." chris felt his heart breaking as he observed the way her shoulders slumped and her eyes focused on her feet. he wanted nothing more than to take it back, tell her he truly did love her, and never stop showering her with praise. but she deserved better than him. he knew it.

"so i can go back upstairs now?"

"yeah. yeah of course." he moved off the door and watched as she climbed the stairs slowly. "wait hold on."

"what?" she turned around as chris made his way up to her.

"things aren't going to be awkward now, are they?"

"not if we don't let them be awkward." y/n smiled sweetly.

"okay. cool." he chuckled and turned around. "tell matt i'll be up in a bit and we can all go get breakfast. my treat."

"okay." y/n nodded and continued back to the kitchen. matt was walking out of the bathroom and when he saw her, he gave her a look.

"did you guys talk?"

"yeah. he said he didn't mean it. but that's okay. i can move on."

"i don't believe that you can, but i'm not going to argue with you." matt smiled softly at her. "where's chris?"

"he told me to tell you he'd be up shortly and hat we could all go to breakfast. he's paying."

"okay cool." he looked at her. "so, which one of us is going to be the unlucky one who has to wake nick up?"

"you do it."

"i feel like if you do it, he won't get as mad because he could never stay mad at you."

"good point." y/n sighed. "but you're coming with me."

the two of them travelled up to nick's room. y/n slowly opened the door and saw he was still fast asleep. she walked over to his bed and moved the hair out of his face.

"nicolas, wake up. it's time for breakfast."

"5 more minutes." he groaned and swatted her hand away.

"we're going out to breakfast with or without you & chris is paying so i suggest-"

"chris is paying?" nick shot up and smiled. "give me a few minutes to get dressed."

"okay. see you down there."

y/n and matt waited for 10 minutes before the other brothers came upstairs. chris watched his brother talk to y/n and the smile she wore was so much brighter than the one she gave him 20 minutes ago.

the 4 of them climbed into the car. y/n took her spot in the passenger seat and chris got behind matt. nick raised an eyebrow and got in while looking between y/n & chris suspiciously.

at the restaurant, they ordered and ate their food quickly. all while discussing potential video ideas.

"the video we posted yesterday already has so many comments with fans saying their favorite parts were all the times chris would look at y/n with 'heart eyes' and they can't get over it." nick looked at y/n, then at chris beside him. "you guys have been acting weird all day. no. wait. back up. you've been acting weird for way longer than that, with chris' stupid reason for ditching you 6 years ago. i still don't understand, by the way." he looked back and forth between them before shaking his head and looking back at his plate. "if you guys are into each other, then i say you shouldn't let anything hold you back."

"we're not into each other, believe me." chris looked at his brother.

"oh. so i guess that it was matt and y/n making all that noise last night?"

"no. it was me and chris. it happened once. huge mistake that will never happen again. so can we just drop the subject, please?" y/n spoke, never taking her eyes off her own plate. she moved the food around the plate slowly, losing her appetite more with every passing second.

chris looked up at the sound of her voice and immediately felt bad for what he told her this morning. he had no idea it was going to hurt her this much.

"yeah. of course." matt placed a hand gently on top of hers and smiled. "are you done eating?"

"yeah." y/n set the fork down and pushed her plate to the middle of the table. the boys followed and chris paid for the meal like he promised. the car ride back was mostly silent, apart from nick trying and failing to start an argument.

when matt pulled into the garage, chris was the first one out and he was already in his room by the time everyone else made their way inside. as y/n passed his bedroom door, she sighed heavily. matt noticed this and placed his hand on her back comfortingly.

"hey, don't worry about chris right now. i'm gonna run you a bath so you can relax. how does that sound?"

"it sounds like a great idea. thanks matt." y/n smiled kindly at her friend. he told her to stop worrying about chris but that was nearly impossible when her heart felt this way. all she wanted to do was go to him & tell him she didn't mean what she said this morning & that she didn't think it was a mistake. but he didnt feel the same and she knew she would have to bury her feelings again.

after her bath, matt and nick had set up a movie for y/n in matt's room. at first we she was confused. until she remembered they were doing a podcast today. so she put the headset on and hit the play button.

upstairs, the boys were settling into another episode of their podcast. the topic today was 'relationships and things they're looking for in a potential partner'.

"well clearly, i want to be with someone who can match me in every way. their humor has to mesh well with mine and they have to get along with you guys, obviously." nick looked at his brothers. "if they don't, then i don't want them."

"that's a good way to put it, nick." matt smiled and took a second before he decided what he wanted. "any future girlfriend needs to have the following qualities. loyalty is a must. she has to be able to take a joke & she most definitely needs to get along with you guys over anything. that's my top priority."

"how about you chris?"

"huh?" chris was zoned out.

"what type of qualities are you looking for in a future girlfriend?" matt asked the question, making chris drag his hands down his face. they both knew the answer but matt didn't think chris was going to answer.

"like you guys, my top priority is that she gets along with you. she's gotta be kind, smart, funny. this isn't a must, like i could go either way, but if she's a little on the short side with brown hair, then that's a bonus. she's gotta know how to make me laugh and she's gotta know that i joke around a lot so she'll have to know how to take a joke. she's my top priority always so she's gonna have to be okay with being spoiled."

"remember that time when you-"

the boys trailed off topic, as usual and just went with it.

y/n's movie ended and she decided to snoop through the games matt had. after 5 minutes of searching, she settled on hogwarts legacy. while she was in the middle of creating a character, matt walked in.

"hey. we're done filming the podcast and chris wanted to know if you wanted to come with us to get some food."

"chris asked?"

"yeah. shocking, isn't it?"

"then i don't want to go. don't want things to be awkward."

"whatever you and chris are going through, it can't be easy. maybe you need to tell him that he hurt you when he told you it was a mistake. i'm almost positive he'll understand."

"i hate when you're right."

"oh, so you hate me all the time then?" matt chuckled, causing y/n to crack a smile.

"fuck off, matt." she looked back at the game. "i really want to play this game though, so can you bring something back for me, please?"

"okay. but only because i love you and you know i can't say no to you ever." he kissed her head and walked back to his brothers. "she's not coming."

"maybe i should stay back too." chris glanced at the bedroom door for a second.

"no. we're not doing that. come on." matt grabbed his brothers arm and pulled him out to the car.

for the next hour, y/n was alone. she finished creating her character but grew bored of the game rather quickly so she turned it off. she walked around the house, taking note of how clean it was thanks to matt.

deducing that there was nothing for her to do, she settled on watching tv in the living room. an hour later, the boys were returning home with more food than they could carry. nick had only a drink in his hand as matt and chris struggled to get everything up in one piece.

"a little help, please." matt nearly dropped the bag he was holding but y/n jumped over the couch just in time. she picked it up and caught chris staring at her.

"wow. good reflexes."

"yeah. thanks." y/n smiled awkwardly and set the bag on the kitchen table. matt shot chris a look and followed y/n to the kitchen. he handed y/n the food he got for her and began eating his own. chris sat across from her and ate silently while his brother and y/n talked. he hate not being the one who could do that, which meant he hate himself because of the way he had treated her.

after they ate, chris went to his room. y/n watched him disappear around the corner and turned back to matt. he raised his eyebrow at her.

"if you really like him, you need to go down there and tell him. tell him how he hurt you and tell him everything. you two need to get over whatever issues you're having. and more importantly, you need each other. more than you both care to admit. so please, just go talk to him. he's hurting to."

"matt, it's different when a guy says it didn't mean anything. because for girls, we get attached easily. im not ashamed to admit it. and yes, i love him and it definitely meant something to me. but im not going to force him to feel the same way, matt." y/n walked to matt's room and sighed. she knew he was right but she was also really stubborn. this time, it had to be him that made the first move.

matt didn't mean to upset her but he was right. however, he knew that neither of them would be the ones to make the first move so he had to do it for them.

to christopher🖕🏻: get your butt upstairs. it's important

to y/n💕: get your butt out here. it's important

he sat back and waited for them to show up in the living room. when y/n ran out of the room, he knew his plan was working.

"what's so important?"

"well i-"

"what's so important, matt?" chris came up from his room and locked eyes with y/n.

"you guys need to talk and neither of you are leaving until you sit down and have a conversation."

"can we talk privately?"

"only if it's in your room and you can promise me you'll talk."

"fine." chris shook his head and went back to his room. y/n sighed and followed. once they were both inside, matt stood at the top of the stairs and made sure they didn't leave.

once inside the room, y/n took a seat in chris' chair while he sat on the end of the bed.

"i didn't mean it." chris was he first to speak.

"yeah we covered that this morning."

"no. i meant that i didn't mean it when i told you ididn't mean it. what we did was most definitely not a mistake and im really sorry for making you think i was. i have a lot of regrets from the past but having sex with you is not one of them." he stood up and knelt so he was at her eye level. her gaze was fixed on the floor. he grabbed her chin and made her look into his eyes. "i meant what i said about the love. i absolutely, 100% do love you. there's never been a doubt in my mind that i do. i only said i didnt mean it because i thought it scared you off. i was doing what i thought you wanted."

"what on earth would make you think i didn't want to hear you say that?"

"well, for starters, after i said i loved you, you completely zoned out and then you said 'thank you' before rushing out of my room. i figured that the feelings weren't mutual."

"chris, they're very much mutual." y/n looked at him. "i'm sorry for making you think otherwise. i felt like an idiot when i left earlier because you looked so upset when i reacted the way that i did. god, chris. i love you. so freaking much. it kills me because you may be my soulmate & i'm scared of pushing you away."

"we can get through this together, y/n. believe me. you are the only person i've ever loved & you'll be the only person i love for the rest of my life." he held her hands tightly. "i just want to be with you. please say you'll be my girl."

"before i give you my answer, i need to know one thing."

"what?"

"on a scale of 1-10, how much did you enjoy the sex?"

"literally broke the scale. it was so mindblowingly perfect and crazy & everything i have ever wanted to experience. you are perfect and crazy and just so beautiful. did i mention you're perfect? because you really, really are."

"that was a great answer." y/n giggled and before she could say anything further, chris grabbed her face and kissed her.

"so, will you be my girlfriend? because i don't know how i'll continue living knowing you're not mine."

"of course i will, chris." it was y/n's turn to kiss chris. she pulled him in close. to the point where he now had both hands on the arms of his chair and he was leaning over her.

"can we go get comfortable on the bed? no sex. unless you want to."

"come on." y/n got up and pulled him to the bed. she laid down and he hovered over her while kissing her passionately.

they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice matt standing in the doorway. only when he spoke up did they finally pull apart.

"i'm glad my plan worked." he smirked and leaned against the doorframe. "make sure to thank me at your wedding."

"get out of here!" y/n and chris both threw a pillow at matt. he caught both and laughed.

"clearly you're meant to be together. good night." he tossed the pillows back and ran up the stairs.

"wow. that was a bit of a mood killer."

"was it though?" y/n smirked and pulled chris back into her. their bodies quickly molding into one as the clothes flew off and the sheets got tangled.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @carolinalikesthings @fearfam69691 @junnniiieee07 @suyga @spicychrizzz @chrisloyalgf @hi-7-hi

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Eye in the sky pt.4

Reader(codename: eagle) x König.

König was too weak to fight, now both are prisoner, but not for too long, König will do anything to keep you safe, no one will put a hand on you if they don't want to lose it.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

«EAGLE, BEHIND!»

«König! Ahhh» «get your fuckin' hands off of me bastard!»... «Send her to sleep».

Cold water woke up König from his "nap", he was sitting in a metallic chair, two men standing up in front of him, the first thought that popped up on his mind was you.

- Where's...?

- who? Your comrade? I don't think you're in position to ask questions, although... That buddy is hard to break, refusing to speak, maybe you will be different, huh? Because if you don't cooperate, I'll start to play with your partner, I don't think you want that.

Now... Tell me, what were you doing there? What were you looking for?.

König laughed at his face, they think he will be easy, even if they try to use you to obtain information, he will not speak.

- Am I funny?. You! Bring more water and you! electric wire, now.

So they're planning to use electrocution as a first method, they're desperate. Another cold water bucket ran through König's body, he's ready, he's more than prepared for this and worse.

- It doesn't need to be in this way dude, just answer and we won't make you suffer.

- Ja, if this is what you call suffering, go ahead... I have the entire day. Idiot.

And König wasn't lying, of course it hurt, of course his skin was burning, of course he was exhausted but he knew it was better to keep them distracted, away from you. By the end of the day, they took him to a cell.

You heard someone's laugh, you can't believe what you're hearing, you stood up and there he was, König was dragged in the cell in front of you. He laughs and says something in German «Ihr seid alle tote Männer» (y'all are dead men) While the others close the cell. Once they left, you tried to get close to the entrance of your cell, the chain keeps you away.

- König? What happened? Are you ok?

- all good Maus, and you? Did they hurt you?

- I'm not easy to break, I'm okay. How is your wound?

- I think it's fine, after the electrocution it's probably already healed...

He laughed, why is he laughing? What did they say to those guys?

- Tell me what it looks like.

- Not now Maus, I'm tired.

-What did you say to those guys?

-Don't worry Maus, no one will hurt you as long as I keep them busy. Although, we will escape soon.

- König...?

- Ja?

- it's maybe not the right Moment, but... I think... I think I'm in love with you.

Silence, silence in that strange basement prison, maybe you really confessed your feelings in the worst moment.

-How can you be so sure?

-Because I feel the urgency to be close to you, to look at you, touch you...

-You still don't know me well Schatz.

-If we survive... I'll have plenty of time to do it.

He chuckled and muttered.

- I'll take you out of this place Maus, I promise.

No one of you knew when you fell asleep but a new day arrived, the sound of chains and someone being suffocated, then silence.

- Maus!?

- It's... Okay, I'm okay König.

- What's going on?

- Nothing, someone thought could take advantage of my situation.

-What?

-He came and tried to...

More men came in.

«Well, well, well... That... was one of my best men»

-He wasn't very smart.

«Bring her upstairs we will play a little»

König stood up and tried to convince them to leave you alone. Unfortunately, he couldn't. A few hours later you went back, and same as König, you were laughing about them, they're desperate you know your team will come, soon or later.

- Meine Liebe, how are you?

- I'm good, just tired... They tried to drown me, anyway, How's your wound?

- It's better, we'll leave this place soon.

-Really? What's the plan?

-They look desperate, they will try to hurt you and use you to convince me to give information... just if they're stupid enough as I think, the rest is merely improvisation, fight, kill and leave.

- Sounds like all will be improvisation König.

- indeed Meine Liebe.

And just as König said, they went back and took both of you upstairs, you're in front of König, he's sitting in that chair, a man holding his shoulders as if that was enough to contain a man like König, while the other is holding your hands on your back.

- you, undress yourself.

You weren't expecting that.

- Excuse me?

He pointed his gun to you and repeated the order. So you did, there you were in underwear, König devoured you with his eyes you can also see the anger since he's not the only one observing every curve of your body.

- Well, you're such a pretty thing, huh? What do you think, Big boy? something so pretty shouldn't suffer any damage.

- Don't listen to him... I'm not easy to break.

You look with a lot of self-confident, sure that you can handle the situation.

- Look at her! She's a psycho. Okay if you feel strong enough and he refuses to talk, we'll play a little game, there's 2 bullets here, you have 3 chances to talk, or she will get hurt.

König doesn't even try to answer, he just nodded at you. There's a vibe in the air, adrenaline, danger, you don't know it yet.

First chance to talk, König doesn't say anything, second chance, nothing.

- Alright, I'm tired of this.

He pointed and shoot you in your shoulder, you can feel your skin burning, your bones hurt but you tried to not make a sound, König's body is tense, every time more and more.

- Not even a sound, last chance to talk or this bullet will go directly to the head...

König looks at you, nodded one more time, you know he's ready to do something, even with the pain you get ready too.

It was quick. He untied himself, breaking his thumbs then putting them in place again, took the man behind him and broke his neck. Before someone else in the room could react you pushed the man behind you and hit him with your head, a kick to another one, König took the man with the gun In his hands, unarmored him and threw the gun at your side, you shot at the men you previously hit, and dressed as quick as possible but your eyes were focused on könig, he has the head of the man between his hands and he started to press it, more and more until a «CRACK» and a last scream filled the room.

- Nobody hurts my Maus.

König looked at you and before he could say something you jumped to him, you don't even feel the pain of the bullet in your shoulder, you hugged him, he returned the hug, you looked up and he looked at you, he looked afraid but then you saw him, he took off his mask. He's beautiful, the scar that goes from his lip to his eyebrow accentuates his facial features, he kissed your forehead and nose, then your cheek and finally left a soft kiss on your lips.

Alarm sound interrupted you, and steps outside the room where you were. He put the mask on again, and both hide at a side of the door.

«Sir! We have problems, enemies are out...!»

Once he gave a step inside the room, könig kicked him, the poor man was on the floor and you didn't even hesitate to shoot. Both went out, running through the halls, killing whoever that appears on your way, the adrenaline inside you, König running at your side, both fighting side to side, this is the kind of love that you always dreamed about, full of adrenaline, adventure. Once you were outside you noticed blood in König's abdomen, it's his own blood, the wound is bleeding again and your shoulder is in pain again.

- fuck... Ahhh

- Let me see Schatz.

- No, I'm fine, let's get out of here you're bleeding again... We need to...

«KÖNIG?» you heard someone's voice, both turned around... Horangi and Roze were the intruders. «We found them, we're on the way back to the rendezvous»

Roze approached you.

- Doc, you're alive...

- Yeah, we need a medical kit, König has a deep wound that refuses to heal, let's go.

Horangi ran at König's side and helped him to walk, once you arrived, you noticed your team giving assistance to the hostages from the first mission, Price was the first one to notice you, he ran and hugged you

- are you alright Kid?

- could be better, Captain we need a quick extraction, König is seriously injured.

He nodded and left, then the rest of the boys ran to you and König, even Ghost...

He approached König and extended his hand to him, König accepted the interaction and both nodded at each other.

- I have to thank you, you kept Eagle alive, also looks more alive than ever before.

- it's not as fragile as you think, the doc was the one who kept both alive...

Both looked at you, You let Soap see your wound, you and him were discussing the bullet extraction, he wanted to do it right there and you were refusing. Before you left, Ghost talked with you.

-You look good Doc.

- Thanks, I like the adrenaline Lt.

- You love him, Don't you?

- I do, how did you...

- You look at him differently, there's a different spark in you when he's around.

- Ghost I...

- No, it's fine, if you're happy, I'm happy.

You nodded, both shook hands, the helicopter arrived, you and König left, you took care of his wound and stayed at his side during the recovery.

- Danke Maus, you didn't need to stay all the time, you were hurt too.

- it wasn't really serious, and it's nothing, tho if you still want to pay the debt, I'm available after 5, we can go to dinner.

He laughed and then held your hand and kissed it, then he nodded and whispered «Meine Liebe, mein Leben, Mein Liebling.»

There it is, that flame in your chest, he's the only one who can make you feel in that way, desire, adrenaline, peace, all in one and all at the same time, only him.

[indestructibleheart]

Hi, fam! Okay, so I'm going to be out at an appointment tomorrow morning, so I'm kicking this off a little bit early. It's technically Wednesday in several timezones and very nearly Wednesday in mine. I'm... also a bit eager to share this, ngl.

I know that I've shared a lot of angst lately, but I swear that's not all I'm doing. 😅 In fact, the actor/playwright AU decided to wallop me in the face out of nowhere after sitting in my WIP folder for months. I'm really excited about it, so I'm gonna share the first scene!

(Also, those of you who have been to New York with me will recognize my favorite brunch spot in this scene lmao.)

---

You probably didn't even know I was in the room, but I noticed you straight away. You were talking with your friends, happy and animated and fully alive—a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access—and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You were the center of attention, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen; I'd better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.

INT. MOM'S KITCHEN & BAR - HELL'S KITCHEN - LATE MORNING

"I'm telling y'all," Alex is saying, punctuating with dangerously large bites of his pancake burrito. "The dude's a dick." 

It's been two hours since the nightmare audition, but Alex has been on this tirade since June and Nora first slid into the retro diner chairs across from him (at least forty-five minutes ago).

They're at Mom's: a restaurant-bar in midtown that can only be described as millennial nostalgia incarnate. The trio fell in love with it two years back—post-karaoke, stumbling in right before closing—when Alex saw God in their Fruity Pebble pancakes.  Since then, it's been his favorite place to eat his feelings.

Mom's is just really fucking comforting in general, honestly; whether it's the televisions cycling through episodes of 'Rugrats,' 'Dexter's Laboratory,' and 'Hey, Arnold!' or  the rainbow straws and Lisa-Frank-looking menus, Alex can't be sure. It doesn't hurt that they've made friends with several of the waitstaff, including an eccentric bartender, Pez, whose pink hair and painted nails fit right in with the decor. 

Today, it's the combination of breakfast sausage, bacon, eggs and cheese wrapped up in a syrup-soaked pancake that's really doing something for him. It could also be the margarita the size of his face, which Pez placed in front of him before making himself uncharacteristically scarce. But it's fine. He's probably just busy.

Alex won't admit it out loud, but what really helps is having June and Nora here to talk to… even though Nora is scrolling on her phone.

"I'm sorry," June says. She pokes an ice cube with her straw, and Alex watches as it bobs around her mimosa like a buoy. "That sounds like it sucked, but if he's really that rude… maybe you didn't want to work with him anyway."

Nora doesn't look up as she pops a home fry into her mouth. 

"Several sources say he's difficult to work with," she adds, evidently reading about Henry on the internet. "Though, in his defense, his dad did just die, like, three years ago… and there was that whole thing when he came out after. Remember?"

Alex does remember. Henry's grandmother, Mary Mountchristen, runs a pretty major company that used to own half the theatres on the West End. When Henry came out last year, she tried blacklisting his shows from her properties to punish him—which totally backfired when it got around. At least a dozen other queer writers and producers started talking about how they were also denied the space, and Mary was stoned on the streets of the theatre district. Like, metaphorically. 

Alex, Nora, and June had just moved to New York, but between June's position at Newsday and both Alex and Nora on the audition circuit, it was all anyone in their new circles could talk about. They were some of the first to know when the Mountchristens were bought out of their properties and Henry moved to the States.

This show is the first of Henry's being produced here—and it's autobiographical, which Alex has to admit is pretty fucking baller. So, yeah, Nora's not wrong. He has reason to be standoffish. Still, it doesn't explain why Alex was only halfway through his audition monologue when Henry abruptly stood up and exited stage left as if pursued by a bear.

He shoves another forkful into his mouth. "It's just, like, they're the only people who let me into the room," he says, barely finishing chewing. "Nobody wants to take me seriously, and I really thought this was my shot, you know?"

June and Nora both know Alex is having a hard time landing serious roles after growing up on a sitcom—Nora more than most, as his former co-star. What they don't know is that losing this role, specifically, feels like a kick to the stomach. From the moment Alex saw the script, he wanted to be a part of it. He can't even explain why, and now he'll never figure it out. Henry wouldn't give him a chance.

"It wasn't your only shot, and you know it." Nora fixes him with a look. "Seriously, I get it—I do—but it's just one play, buddy."

June nods. "Something will happen for you, baby brother."

At that, Alex finally groans. "Okay, calling me baby brother doesn't help me feel better about the entertainment industry infantili—"

"—itty bitty, teeny weeny—"

Alex throws a home fry at her face. 

It bounces off her forehead and into the giant gauntlet holding her mimosa with a very unappetizing splash. Just as Alex throws his hands into the air with a victorious whoop, his phone buzzes on the table. 

A glance is all it takes for him to see that it's his agent, Zahra.

"Damn," he says, deflating. There goes that upswing. "You answer it."

June balks. "Me?"

"I don't need to hear how fucking badly it went. Trust me, I got the message." Alex blinks innocently, like he's six years old again, asking her to lie to their mom about that broken vase. "Please, Bug? Besides, Zahra actually likes you."

"Everyone likes me." June rolls her eyes, but she caves—answering the phone with a haughty, "Alex Claremont-Diaz's office," before breaking into a smile. "Yeah, Z. It's me… No, Alex is feeling a little sensitive today."

(He throws another home fry at her. This one misses.)

To her credit, June's face remains totally blank as Zahra no doubt tells her how Alex insulted Henry Fox's name and all of his inbred ancestors just by showing up, or whatever—which is extremely annoying and unhelpful—but, once she says goodbye and sets the phone back down on the table, her face breaks out into a grin.

"Guess you didn't suck too bad," she says. "They want you for the part."

He doesn't know if it's Nora throwing herself at him or the shock that knocks him onto the floor.

Tagging some lovelies. If you haven't been tagged and you want to be, consider this your tag!

@anchoredarchangel, @barbiediaz, @cha-melodius, @cricketnationrise, @guillermosfamiliar, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @hippolotamus, @inexplicablymine, @jettestar, @junebugclaremontdiaz, @kiwiana-writes, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @missgeevious, @mulderscully, @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @nontoxic-writes, @notspecialbabe, @priincebutt, @rmd-writes, @rosedavid, @three-drink-amy, @treluna4, @vanillahigh00, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @ships-to-sail, @stereopticons

[plussizefantasia]

Little Stinker

Flufftober Day 30: Pumpkin Carving

Steve Rogers x f!mom!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: This is a continuation of Day 21's Story: Good Punkins. Steve and Little Dude have my whole heart I stg. I can't believe that we only have one more day! This was such a fun experience and I think I'm a much better writer than I was when I started. Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow for the last day of Flufftober!

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Your little family had gone to the pumpkin patch on Saturday, little dude had been so tired that he passed out in his car seat on the way home and didn’t even stir when you lifted him out of his car seat and into the house.

However, in all of his five and half years on this planet, Caleb James has never slept past 7:00 am. That is why you were not at all surprised when the door to yours and Steve’s shared bedroom creaked open at about 7:05.

“Momma.” Caleb had whispered. Trying to climb up onto the very tall bed that you and your husband shared. “Momma gotta get up. Gotta put faces on our punkins.” 

“CJ, it’s too early to carve our pumpkins. We can do that in the afternoon, okay baby?” You pulled him up from his armpits and swung him over your body. Landing him in the space between you and Steve. “Plus, Mommy needs her cuddles. Can I have some cuddles, baby boy?” 

“Course Momma, I loves your cuddles.”

“And I love yours, baby.” 

“Do I get some cuddles too?” Steve’s sleep-coated voice rasped from beside you. His large arm curled around your waist and pulled both you and Caleb into his chest. His other arm came around from his side and trapped you and the little man in a bear hug.

“Daddy!” Caleb giggled. “You’re squeezing me!”

“Am I?” Steve asked. Squeezing the two of us a little tighter.

“Yeah, Daddy you’re squeezing too tight!” Caleb fought to say in between his giggles. Steve loosened his arms just a little bit, still holding firmly but allowing some space. 

“Cuddles for a little bit then I’ll make breakfast and we can talk about what to do with the pumpkins okay?” You asked your boys.

“Otay Momma,” Caleb said as he snuggled deeper into your chest. Slow mornings like this were your favorite. Just being able to exist with the people you love most in the world made everything worth it.

Your family sat in bed for another hour or two, Caleb drifted in and out of sleep and you and Steve just watched each other and your baby in content silence. 

Eventually, your husband's super metabolism caught up to him, and his stomach started to growl. He looked sheepish and a little bit upset that he had ruined the moment. You just laughed and kissed his forehead and your son’s before slipping out of bed and making your way downstairs to start breakfast.

If there was one thing Caleb had inherited from his father it was his appetite. Your boys would go through mountains of food if they could. For this breakfast, you made pancakes, some with chocolate chips for Caleb and some with banana slices for Steve. You cooked some scrambled eggs and fried up some sausage and bacon. You cut and peeled fruit to make a fruit salad, juiced oranges, and set the table. By the time you were done, your kitchen looked like a photoshoot for a cookbook. 

All that food only lasted your boys about thirty minutes though, before the table was cleared and Steve was up and cleaning the dishes and countertops.

“Can we put faces on our punkins now Momma?” Caleb had asked. 

“Sure baby, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed while Daddy and I bring in the pumpkins from the car?” You had barely finished your question before your little man was racing up the stairs toward his room to get himself ready for the day.

You laughed and finished the last bit of the coffee left in your mug before you slipped on some shoes and made your way out to your car. You grabbed a pumpkin under each arm and started heading back inside. Before you made it more than three steps your show-off husband had taken them out of your arms and back inside.

It seemed like Steve wouldn’t let you lift any pumpkins this year, even if it was just from your car to your house. 

You had begun to get the kitchen table all set up for carving pumpkins. You covered the table in newspaper and grabbed three mixing bowls from your cabinets. You grabbed Sharpies and tape, some paper to draw on, and all the different kinds of knives that you’d need. 

By the time everything was set up, Caleb was making his way downstairs, fully dressed and practically bouncing with excitement.

“It’s punkin time Momma!” He yelled.

“Yeah baby, time to carve our pumpkins.” Three pumpkins were sitting on the kitchen table. Two of them were pretty large, with one flater side perfect for carving. Those were the ones Caleb had picked for you and Steve. His own was slightly smaller but taller rather than wider. 

“What do you want to carve on your pumpkin little man?” You asked Caleb after helping him up onto the chair, making sure that he was okay to stand and wouldn’t fall.

“Uncle Tony!” 

“You want to carve Uncle Tony’s face on your pumpkin?”

“No Momma, not his face. His mask, the one on the suit.”

“You want to carve the Iron Man face baby?” 

“Yeah Momma, and you can carve Auntie Nat’s widow and Daddy can carve his shield!’

“You want us to have Avenger pumpkins buddy?” Steve asked. “I thought you wanted faces?”

“Mine will have a face. Uncle Tony’s mask has a face.”

He had a point. “Okay little man, let's look at how to draw Uncle Tony’s mask.”

Twenty minutes later, Steve had finished sketching each design on your pumpkin, you had forgone doing Nat’s symbol for doing an actual spider. You’d made sure to include the signature hourglass shape on the back of the sider though, just to keep on theme.

Steve had grumbled the whole time he was drawing Tony’s mask. “He’s my kid?” “Why does he want Tony’s mask?” “My shield is so cool.” All muttered under his breath.

“Steve honey, to Caleb you’re just dad. You’re not Captain America, the first super soldier. You're the man who makes dinner and takes him to the park. He thinks Tony’s mask is cool, sure. But he loves you.”

“How do you always have the right words?” Steve asked you, sharpie still gripped in his hands.

“You have your powers I have mine.” You teased, kissing him chastely. 

“Momma help.” Caleb had called out from the kitchen table.

“What do you need help with baby,?” You moved across the room towards him.

“Can you cut the top open so I can get the guts out?’ he asked.

“Absolutely buddy, I’ll cut off the top and then you can use your spoon to get in here okay?” You grabbed the serrated knife from the table. You began to see at the top of the pumpkin, making sure to keep it as neat as you could. So that the lid could be put back on when you brought them back outside.

Steve stood back and watched you help Caleb with his pumpkin. Overwhelmed with love, he took out his phone and sent a picture to the group chat. 

Avengers-themed pumpkins, courtesy of little dude. The text message read.

He snapped a few more photos of you with your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth like it usually did when you were focused. You finished cutting the top off of Caleb’s pumpkin and started on yours. Eventually moving on to Steve’s as well. 

Steve and Caleb were on scooping duty, given that you absolutely couldn’t stand pumpkin insides. They smelled and looked horrible and you just couldn’t deal with them. While the boys were scooping, you were warming up some apple cider that you had bought at the farm yesterday along with the pumpkins. You weren’t expecting to be ambushed by your husband when you returned to the table though.

Steve held in his hands a spoon piled high with pumpkin insides. He and Caleb were both giggling like children and Steve counted down from three before chasing you with the spoon.

You shrieked and ran away, hearing the cackling of your little boy from somewhere behind you. “Steve!” You ducked and dodged. “Steven Grant! I swear to all that is holy.” He continued to chase him, laughing along with Caleb who was still perched on his chair at the dining table. You managed to circle Steve and dashed towards your son. 

You grabbed onto Caleb and held him in front of you like a human shield. “What’s your move, Rogers.” You raised your eyebrow at your husband. “Drop the spoon and nobody gets hurt.” You pulled Caleb closer to you. 

"You wouldn’t dare.” Was Steve’s response, matching your raised eyebrow. 

“Watch me.” In one fell swoop, you dropped your hands to Caleb’s sides and started tickling the little boy. His laugh increased in pitch and he started trying to wriggle out of your hold.

"It’s up to you Honey, I don’t know how much longer he can last.” You laughed and continued to tickle your little boy, making sure that he was still having fun at the same time.

“You’re an evil woman you know that?” Steve asked you before theatrically placing the spoon down on the table. You stopped ticking Caleb as soon as the spoon was down and both you and Steve chuckled to yourself as his giggles died down and he tried to catch his breath.

“That was funny Momma.” He told you.

“What was funny, Daddy chasing me with yucky pumpkin guts or all the tickles?"

“Both.” 

“Oh yeah?” You blew a raspberry on the side of his cheek. “You’re a little stinker.”

“The stinkiest” Steve agreed.

Caleb began to laugh once again and you and Steve followed suit.

Moments like this made all of it worth it. Steve's mind echoed your thoughts from that morning. Having both you and Caleb was like a dream come true. He would do it all over again if it meant that he would have you. That much he was sure of. Even if his son wanted a Tony Stark pumpkin for Halloween.