#I’m so serious when I say thank you for the ask

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, loan shark!price x reader part 1, fem!reader, afab!reader, noncon elements, manipulative price, implied violence (not reader), petting, almost(?) fingering - 3K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune massive thank you to @pricetagged for keeping me sane writing this

“Mr. Price-” you spoke up, fingers massaging into your temples. 

“Said you can call me John, Sweetheart.” the man interjected with a serious look. 

He was currently hanging your entire life over your head and he knew it, you most certainly were not going to call him by his first name. Noticing your reluctance, he shrugged and leaned back into your dining room chair.

“Look, I’ve been as kind as a man like me ought to be. Don’t know how much longer I can shoulder the loss, and I don't know how much longer you-” He sent a condescending look of concern your way, a hand fishing into his pocket. “-can take the fees. I’m playing the good guy here, y’gotta pay up, lovie.” 

“No smoking inside.” you warned, voice less confident than you would have liked it to be.

His hand paused in his coat before slipping out and up in a sign of surrender.

There was a buzzing silence between the two of you, only interrupted by the occasional tick of your kitchen clock. It was hard to meet his gaze, eyes rooted downwards towards your table under the weight of your rising debt to one of the most notorious men in the city.

“Right then.” he huffed, palms coming down to rest on the table before twitching upwards. “So?” 

“Give me another month to pull something together.” you spoke, wincing when you caught the way his eyebrows quirked in surprise. “-Please?”

There was no telling a man like John Price what would be happening. He was the shot caller, the unequivocal card dealer, it was only by some higher grace that he let your ill manners slip. 

He grumbled for a moment before looking up. “I respect what you’ve got going on in the shop, I do. Lovely place, good atmosphere—we’re both the entrepreneurial type, so to say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for you-” the thought that he’d lump your small shop in with his exploitative business made your stomach turn. “-but this is a bit much, yeah? Let’s give it up, sweetheart.” 

Your face twisted into a sharp grimace, but that was all you could do—what right did you have to tell the man whose money you were living off of to get out of your house? Even worse, you hated that he had a point; you were so tired of your lackluster sales and mounting bills, but-

“I’m not the only owner, I-I can’t just make decisions like that.” you reasoned.

He looked incredibly unimpressed, nostrils flaring with a dissatisfied huff. “Right, your business partner.” 

“H-he-”

“If it’s what you want, m’sure he’ll understand,” Mr. Price hummed, eyes narrowing. “I think you’ll find my men and I can be quite persuasive.” 

Registering your cautious demeanor, his lips curled upwards.

“Where is the bloke anyway?” John asked in faux-disinterest, disapproval blooming from his tone. “Always sends you to talk to the big mean lender. S’not right.” 

He shook his head and sighed.

“-Seen this play out before, love. He’s throwing you under the bus.” 

Your mouth shut, hard set into a frown—you knew he was right. Your business partner was most likely enjoying his morning in peace knowing it was your apartment above the building—your life about to be uprooted if it all went tits-up. It was hard not to feel played.

Mr. Price’s gaze glimmered in recognition, and slowly, like a languid predator, he was leaning across the table with a large hand over your own. 

You studied the sparse dusting of translucent hair on his fingers, the trimmed nails at the ends of his stocky fingers, his nice, expensive-looking watch—anything not to meet his eyes. 

“S’not worth it,” he urged softly. “spreading yourself thin like this.” he paused to think. “My advice? Liquidate, I'm sure you and I can work something out in the long term.”

You swallowed, throat feeling impossibly dry as you focused on the twitch of his thumb.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy, but business is business, sweetheart—I’m offering you a hand, it’s in your best interest to take it.” he spoke, palm patting over your digits before withdrawing into his pocket. There was a deep breath drawn in through his lips. “Right, I’ll be off then—Unless you want me over for lunch?” 

He chuckled deeply in solus as he stood, reminding you of a proud and awful beast. “Maybe another time then, love.” 

Ideally not.

-

The shop had closed on another unnoteworthy day, only serving to further hammer in Mr. Price’s point. With defeated footfall on the stairs up to your flat, you nearly slipped, shocked by a fist beating on the front door frantically. You slowly turned around, heart pounding from the sound.

“-Christ! Let me in!” Ewan, your business partner cried out from the other side of the threshold.

You hurried to the door; pushed aside as soon as the lock had released.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you scolded over the shop door’s welcome chime. You were met without response while the man darted for the till. “What are you-”

“Not now,” he growled. “we need to get out of here.” 

Studying him closer, you realized one of his arms had been held up by a makeshift sling, tucked neatly beneath his quilted coat.

“W-what are you talking about?”

He paused, looking up. 

Your eyes widened when the light from the street outside washed over his face. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” he snarled, freshly dried blood crusting at the movement. His head dipped down as he popped open the till. “Price and his dogs want our heads.” 

“I just spoke to him this morning-” 

“Things change—may have pushed our luck a little too far. We’ve got to get out of town.” 

You frowned “I-I can’t just-” 

“Suit yourself.” he snapped, voice dropping to a mumble while his fingers grabbed at whatever they could, stuffing it into his coat pocket haphazardly. “-Sitting duck.”

“Wait—that's our money.” you balked, watching the empty register drawer shut. He offered you a bloody, tight-lipped smile as he sped past you towards the door; in and out like a typhoon.

“Good luck.”

You were stuck where you stood when the door swung shut, absolutely beside yourself in shock as you watched his figure disappear from view into the night. Looking around your shop, it was just as it had been when you closed up, but the knowledge that you were sitting on an empty till, all alone with the looming threat of a less-than-savory money lender finding out you were back to square one for your upcoming payment was not kind as it crashed into you. 

After a sobering moment, you hobbled over to the point of sales, turning the drawer’s lock tentatively. Of course, the tray was as empty as the day you had bought it, save for a spare coin roll shoved into the side. You stared down at the dark plastic, hand clumsily digging into your pocket for your phone. Swiping at the device, you paused, debating for a moment over whether or not to open the banking app; you already knew what you’d see if you did.

Confirming your fears, the log showed a hefty transaction at the branch earlier that day. The account had been emptied right before the banks closed. 

You had nothing to give John Price.

It was all gone.

You stared at your feet while it sunk in. Slowly, you regained the ability to move, making your way over to the shop door and locking it back up before spinning on your heels. The trip upstairs was eerily silent as you slipped into your flat, legs wobbling as you ambled into your washroom and stepped under the hot stream from your showerhead. You let the water run over you for far longer than necessary, only stepping out onto the frigid tile once your fingers had pruned. 

The dinner prep that followed had gone surprisingly smooth, serving as a vessel to pretend the foundation of your life wasn't crumbling away. You replayed comforting thoughts, words passing through your mind like a liferaft just out of reach– you knew Mr. Price, he always spoke gently to you, he would understand, he-

A fat tear fell onto the hand that braced you over the stove, watching the bubbling pasta through bleary eyes. With a shaking grip, you drained the water and slipped the noodles into your saucepan, stirring and sniffling lamely.

You made too much—you had nothing to give and you had made too much. Typical.

Sitting at your table, you ate in near-silence, listening to your clock’s soft ticking as you tried to ignore the afterburn image of Mr. Price across from you where he had sat that morning.

Your fork paused mid-air when the downstairs shop chime rang out. 

Had Ewan come to his senses? 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to call up to you. 

The stark sound of heavy footfall bustling around the lower level was the first thing to alert you to the intrusion—too much noise for one man. Setting down your fork, you stared owlishly at the door to your flat as if it was the last line of defense between you and whatever was happening down there. Through the muffled commotion, you could faintly make out the creak of your stairs getting louder—closer, you watched helplessly as the knob slowly turned.

The door opened a fraction, a thick hand curling around the side to brace it against the three thunderous knocks that echoed throughout the room.

“Come in.” you spoke up once your heartbeat had evened out, blinking as Mr. Price emerged from the dark stairway.

“Mmh, you’re here.” he stared down at you, a pleased rumble rolling around in his chest. “‘Course you didn’t skip town, smart. Good girl.”

He kicked his boots off and drifted through your kitchen; cabinets and drawers clattering behind you while he whistled breathily, dishing up some pasta as if you had made it for him—you do suppose he had every right to, though. 

Your whole body tensed as a palm ghosted across your back. The plate was set down, and the chair beside you was tugged out from beneath the table. 

Your eyes darted to his dish where it sat, steam trailing fragrantly. Mr. Price tucked in, humming lowly despite his tense demeanor. 

“S’good, Love. eat up.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed your fork, gaze falling back to your dish as you picked at the food, appetite long gone. Once again, it was you, Mr. Price, and the sounds of your kitchen—an unwelcome sense of Deja Vu creeping in. 

“Your money’s gone.” you whispered, unable to stand the silence.

He reached towards you, grabbing your napkin, and patting his mouth. “I know.” he scratched at his beard idly. “My boys are dealing with that.” 

You paled, trying not to think about what would happen to your business partner as you watched Mr.Price fuss with his fork, leaning in to take another large bite; a nauseated feeling washing over you. 

“What's going to happen to me?” you murmured, eyes downcast. 

His fork clattered quietly against his plate as his hand came to rest on the back of your neck, thumb petting at your nape. “That’s what I'm here to sort out, sweetheart.” 

Sort out. It was ugly, spoken as if you were just one of his assets. You nodded; compliance met with a soft, affirming squeeze. 

“We can work something out.” his hand traveled downwards, grazing your arm before landing on the meat of your thigh. “I don’t have to be the bad guy.” 

“Mr. Price..” you spoke after a sharp breath, tears threatening to well up. 

You missed the way his eyes crinkled at your weepy tone, thumb brushing your thigh in comfort. 

“I’ve had my eye on you, love—Would have never lent you as much as I did if I wasn't sweet on you. Thought maybe I’d be able to charm my way into your life but it seems like I only see you when you’re late on a payment.” he laughed hoarsely. A knee knocked into yours as he stood; his chair scraping beneath him. The floor creaked under bulk, two large hands coming to rub at your arms with hot breath and trimmed beard tickling at your ear. “-I’m a hopeless romantic, y’see.” 

“Price!” a voice hollered up, causing the man to straighten with a low growl. 

“What?” he barked, voice aimed downstairs.

“Trucks loaded up, gonna head back to the office, yeah? See if Simon needs any help retrieving the cash.” 

His hands flexed around your shoulders. “Good, lock up behind yourself. I’ll be a bit.”

You froze, looking up to see the looming shadow of a man; profile distinct in the low light. He turned to you, offering a tight grin while a wayward hand trailed from your arm to your neck, caressing the skin as he exhaled deeply behind you, resting your head against his abdomen. 

“It’s okay to give in, love.” he cooed. “Let me take care of it all.” 

You had nearly folded when that little prey animal in your brain stiffened, hackles raising. You stood carefully, sidestepping his grasp.

“No, I-I… I couldn’t impose… It’s alright.” you silently begged for him to understand your polite refusal.

“S’not imposing,” he challenged, glaring down at you. “imposing would be the number of zeroes on the sum you owe me—now you care about my burden?”

“That’s-”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.” he laughed. “Now, sit back down.”

You complied, lowering back into the seat shamefully.

“Good.” he exhaled, crouching beside you with hands knotted together. “I always collect what’s owed, that’s one thing you need to understand.” 

You nodded.

“-But I’m not opposed to shouldering burdens where personal interest is involved.” His eyes searched your own desperately, palms unfurling to rest back on your legs. “You understand what I'm saying, yeah? You’ll never pay it off alone, let me help. I could take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, you turned away; the grip on your thighs tightening in response as he braced himself, standing up. A warm hand cradled your cheek as he drew your gaze upwards, free hand looping around your back and lifting you to stand against him like a marionette. 

“I don’t know what to do…” you sniffled as his big palm had begun to rub circles into your back. 

He shushed you. “-It’s okay, love. I can handle it, It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, turning and rubbing your face into his shirt as he comforted you. The entire situation was a disorienting experience. Had you done something so wrong to get here?– had it been a crime to want to live a gentle and quiet life in your shop? 

It was hard to care much for your sense of conviction when the root of your problem looked more like a finely woven cradle; what did it matter if you were to bend the knee to your devil’s appeal at this point? 

Still, it felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m scared.” your lips settled for, hiccuping the words into his chest. 

He hummed thoughtfully, the noise buzzing around the walls of your head as his thick arms hooked around your neck, pulling you in deeper—a trap set without any fuss. 

“It’s okay for you to be scared,” he pressed a kiss to your crown. “There’s no way anyone was getting out of those rates you agreed to, love. Let me help you.”

You stiffened, head raising slowly to look at him. He smiled down at you.

“You definitely won’t be taking care of our finances, yeah?” John joked, letting out a deep, phlegmy laugh before he pecked your nose, pulling you back into his chest and rumbling against your head. “Enough nonsense. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

It was all so domestic—like he hadn’t just shown you his rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. 

His grip relented as he patted your bum. “Go on and get into bed, let me clean up dinner.”

-

So you did, brushing your teeth and feeling incredibly confused as to why you were readily complying. What truly got to you was how tender it felt—had you been so oblivious to his vying interest? You had just assumed he was a rare good-natured lender; though, you suppose neither of these had been true.

John Price was not a good man; although it was a recent revelation in the grand scheme of things, you knew this as a fact now. The other fact of the matter was that it seemed you were most likely the real collateral in the vulturine deal. Had he been playing the long game?

You could hear John floating around in the other room as you pulled an old shirt over your head to sleep in—the kitchen faucet running as you slipped into your bed. It all felt so wrong. 

Your eyes shot open when the bedroom’s aged floor creaked, deer-like paralysis keeping you snapshot-still as the ring of his belt buckle filled the static air. Was he—The rickety bed dipped behind you under John’s added weight, bedframe crying out with every shift of his body that came with tucking himself against you; achy grunts blowing out from his lips.

“Not as limber as I used to be.” he laughed modestly. “Still gets the job done though, I reckon.” 

He breathed for a moment before his nose dipped into the hair at your nape, sniffling around. 

“-Better than I imagined.” he grumbled contently.

Thick hands dipped under your shirt, massaging at the skin momentarily before slipping into your panties, tugging them out of the way. 

“Mr. Price.” you winced, feeling his cold hand on the sensitive skin.

his hands paused as the large man thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Price…” he chuckled after a beat, the hairs on your neck standing up in response. “-See? You don’t like it much, either. Now, what’s my name, love?”

“John.” you mumbled quietly, eyes darting around through the dark of your room.

“Mmh. good girl.” he hummed, hand cupping your cunt and thumbing at it absentmindedly. “Sleep, love. Big day tomorrow, yeah?” 

[rosy-hollow]

Your husband, Sukuna, is a menace—but he can't say no to your even bigger menace of a daughter.

He already can't say no to you—the absolute sweetheart he had fallen deeply for—so how could he stand a chance against his five-year-old daughter, who looked so much like you yet had the wrath and fury to make even hell freeze over?

It’s Yuna’s first day of kindergarten, and you and your husband have already been called to the school because of your girl's… behavioral issues.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. and Mrs. Sukuna. I, uh… as you’ve heard, Yuna has been acting disruptively in school today. We’ll have to send her home due to her actions, but I sincerely hope this doesn’t happen again."

Underneath the table, your hand finds your husband's reassuringly, squeezing it to let him know you'd handle this.

"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir... but may I know the details of what happened first?" you ask politely, maintaining a calm facade. And if the two of you weren’t talking to your daughter's school principal, Sukuna would’ve kissed you right then and there—because the moment he opened his mouth, he’d probably have a restraining order filed against him in every country.

Despite your calm demeanor, though, you were practically seething.

You knew your daughter. Yes, she had quite a temper, but to act up in such a way that caused a scene? That didn’t sound like her. And if she really had, then something serious must've happened.

The principal nods, sighing bitterly. "Apparently, there was a squabble between your daughter and another boy on the playground… He ended up with a tooth knocked out in the end."

You blink, taken aback, frowning.

Your daughter, though prone to getting angry, would never resort to violence. You and your husband raised her better than that.

Your blood simmers slightly as you take in the principal’s disdainful expression and condescending tone. You want to punch it off his face—but you don’t, much to your own chagrin.

Your husband is squeezing your hand so hard it feels like your bones might snap, but you still rub your thumb comfortingly against his knuckles.

"May I speak to my daughter? Though this behavior is unacceptable, this doesn’t sound like her at all," you say, and the principal sighs, nodding.

"Yes, but please make it quick."

You nod, mentally flipping the man off, before exiting the room with your furious husband in tow.

There, just outside, sits your daughter—wide red eyes filled with tears.

"I-I’m sorry, Mommy..." she whimpers softly, and something inside you breaks as you rush forward to envelop her in your arms.

It takes everything in you not to hunt down the people who reduced your loving daughter to this mess. And you're sure your husband isn’t doing any better—years and years of therapy doing everything it can to keep his rage at bay.

"H-He said my eyes m-made me look l-like a m-m-monster, and t-then he pushed me, and so I just pushed him back, and then he tripped over his shoelaces and his t-tooth fell out—"

Yuna is full-on sobbing now, and you freeze, holding her tightly.

Wordlessly, you pick up the small five-year-old and hand her to your husband, a glint in your eye. Sukuna stiffens, swallowing hard. His grip on Yuna tightens slightly as he watches you storm inside.

He’s only seen you mad maybe four times in your ten years of marriage—if Yuna could freeze hell over when she was angry, then you were the devil incarnate herself.

You reenter the principal’s office, slamming the door behind you. Sukuna decides to be a smart dad and take his daughter down the hall, avoiding what is definitely about to be verbal homicide.

When you finally exit the room, there's an eerily peaceful look on your face. Casually, you dust off your shirt, approaching your husband and daughter with a warm smile.

Sukuna and Yuna exchange uneasy glances.

"So~ who wants ice cream?"

Yuna’s not uneasy anymore.

Sukuna sighs.

He loves his two girls more than anything in the world—he never, ever would have pictured himself being the calmer one in the relationship, but you never ceased to prove him wrong.

That’s what he loved about you, though.

A/N: i love when beefy men are down bad for me (this has never happened)

[bookwormjust]

Peeling Oranges and Guarded Hearts : Small Acts of Love in the River House

(Azriel x mate reader)

The late afternoon sunlight poured into the River House, illuminating the cozy living room where you, Elain, Feyre, and Nesta were sitting. Elain, as usual, was soft-spoken but smiling as she admitted,

“I love oranges, but I hate peeling them. Those little white bits always get stuck under my nails.”

You smiled at her, already rising from your seat. “I can peel it for you, Elain. No problem.”

Elain’s eyes lit up with gratitude. “Oh, thank you! You’re so sweet.”

With a warm laugh, you made your way to the kitchen where the males were gathered, deep in discussion. Azriel was perched on a stool, his sharp eyes scanning a piece of parchment, while Rhysand leaned casually against the counter, and Cassian gestured animatedly as he spoke. Lucien stood nearby, listening with a small smirk. As you entered, the room’s energy shifted slightly, the males pausing in their conversation to glance your way.

“I’m peeling an orange for Elain,” you announced with a smile, holding up the fruit. “Does anyone else want one while I’m at it?”

Cassian was the first to respond, grinning widely. “If you’re offering, I’ll take one! But only if you peel it for me too—I’m lazy.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course you are.”

Rhysand raised an elegant brow, his violet eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t say no to an orange, either. But don’t feel obligated to spoil us all.”

Lucien, standing near the fruit bowl, chuckled. “I can peel my own, thanks.”

Azriel didn’t say anything immediately, but his gaze softened as he watched you move toward the counter to grab a knife. As you began peeling the orange with careful precision, your hands deftly removing the white pith, you glanced over your shoulder. “Az, what about you? Want one too?” His lips curved into a faint smile, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. “I’ll have one, but only if it’s not too much trouble.” You laughed softly. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Cassian leaned against the counter, smirking. “Look at that, Az. You’re being pampered.” “Jealous?” Azriel asked dryly, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. As you finished peeling the first orange, you handed it to Cassian with a mock-serious expression. “Here’s yours, my lord.” Cassian clutched it dramatically to his chest. “Bless you. You’re too kind to us.” You shook your head, smiling as you started on the next orange. Once you’d finished peeling, you distributed them to Rhysand and Azriel, saving the last for Elain. “Thanks,” Rhysand said, his tone teasing. “I’ll make sure Feyre hears about how well you’re taking care of everyone.”

Azriel didn’t say much, but when you handed him his orange, his fingers brushed against yours briefly, his hazel eyes meeting yours with quiet gratitude. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Anytime,” you replied, your smile soft. As you headed back to the living room with Elain’s orange, you couldn’t help but hear Cassian’s voice behind you. “She’s a saint. Az, you better hold onto her.” Azriel’s response was quiet but firm. “Always.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I love your blog sm, please never leave us 🙏 if it’s not a big problem, could I req headcanons or fic bout drunk!Ford and drunk!Stan x reader 👀 nsfw <3

∘˚₊· ʚ🍻ɞ ·₊˚∘ drunk!Stanley x reader headcanons

a/n: thank you for requesting this because i absolutely love this idea! so uhhhh ... i know you asked for both Ford & Stan but i kinda just got carried away with Stan lol, i love him so much. Ford's will come later i swear i just need to gather my braincells first 🥺 i also had no idea what pic to use but this one is pretty cool

nsfw

★ drunk!Stan rambles about marrying you every five minutes. and the problem is that he sounds so dead serious, even though hes glassy-eyed, he still mumbles about finding stealing a ring. he swears up and down that he’s gonna give you the biggest fucking wedding the town’s ever seen!

★ totally cries if you scold him. “babe, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to!!” he doesn’t even know what he did :( he’s just clutching your hands, looking up at you with glassy, pathetic puppy-dog eyes. “do. . . do you still love me?” :((( “i promise i wont screw up anymore”

★ i believe that Stan is a fucking loud drunk. he’s the guy who starts yelling even though he’s right next to you. “BABE. BABY. SWEETHEART. LISTEN. LISTEN TO ME. I GOTTA TELL YA SOMETHIN’ IMPORTANT“ and he immediately forgets what he was gonna say

★ clings to you like a damn koala (i headcanon that it's his habit from childhood). one arm slung around your waist, his face buried in your neck, whining about how much he loves you <3

★ “YA SEE THIS?” he shouts, absolutely hammered, slamming his drink down and pointing at you. “THIS IS THE LOVE OF MY GODDAMN LIFE, EVERYONE PAY RESPECTS.”

★ turns into the biggest, neediest, whiniest bitch the second you start petting his hair. melts into your touch, groaning like you’re giving him a full-body massage

★ “hey babe, babe, listen. listen. i could still totally pick you up. no, i ain’t that drunk. watch.“ promptly falls on his ass :)

★ drunk texts you while you’re sitting next to him. “you look so good rn wanna make outtt”

★ gets real quiet for a second, then just grabs you, full-body clings, putting his head on your shoulder and absolutely refuses to let you go. “yer real warm. like. so warm. like. god, i love you. so much. like. i would fight god for you.” rubs his face against you like a big cat. “mmm. soft. mineeee”

★ grabs your hands, starts playing with your fingers. “how are yer hands so small!!! youre adorable, lookit this. we match!!!”

★ “i would sell my fuckin’ soul to eat you out on a casino poker table.”

★ loves to lean in, blabbering “babe. babe, we should fuck.” and immediately trips over his own feet and almost faceplants. “cmon, sugar, i still got it. promise. just. gimme a sec to stop seein’ double. . .“

★ tries to be smooth, but ends up being an absolute mess. he's so clumsy and his coordination is absolute garbage. “yer s’pretty. s’gorgeous. wanna—“ hiccup “wanna do bad things to ya.”

★ he is literally groping you in public, so u have to physically drag him home, but he stops you with “no babe, let’s do it right now. what d’you mean we’re in a bar? who cares? they should be honored to watch”

★ Stan tries to take you right then and there. against the bar wall, in the backseat of the car, pressed up against a damn pool table. does not give a single fuck, if he wants you then he wants you, that's it, he's just super clingy and needy when drunk

★ grumbles like a brat if you try to move away. “noooo, no, baby, stay, c’mon, lemme touch ya, lemme hold ya.“

★ during kiss he starts crying over something stupid. i see him as a big fan of animals so im sure hed let his sappy side shown “babe, i—i saw a dog earlier—he had such a lil face—“ then immediately changes topic and sobs into your neck, mumbling about all the things he loves about you. your smile, your laugh, your warmth, the way you always put up with his bullshit

★ he is fucking humping you. rutting against you like a goddamn teenager, grinding his cock against your thigh, moaning into your mouth and whiny as fuck. “babe—babe, c’mon, need it so bad, need ya, fuck, m’hard, babe, please“

★ so needy before he even gets inside you. you grind against him once and he’s whimpering, rubbing his face into your chest, muttering, "fuck—oh, fuck, babe, i can’t, m’gonna fuckin’ die”

★ he lets you do whatever the hell you want to him. has no resistance. tell him to lie back, spread his legs, let you take care of him, he’s doing it immediately. “shit, baby, you can do whatever ya want with me” his words slur when you push him down. Stan loves when you’re in control. he loves feeling helpless with you. “sweetheart, ya got me, got me so good, god, i’m all yours”

★ he needs to kiss you constantly so he kisses you through his own moans, muffling every whimper into your mouth. his lips are swollen, but he keeps going, but if you pull away he immediately whines, pawing at you, pouting. “nuh-uh, sugar, gimme another one, one more, just one more”

★ so goddamn eager to please. he’s already sloppy with his tongue when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk. . . “gonna“ hiccups “lemme eat ya out, babe, lemme—“ he trails off, just shoving his face between your legs

★ if he tries to be cocky, he 100% fails immediately. “y’know i could make ya come in five seconds flat, right, sweetheart?” now that's a bold statement, so you decide to tease him saying “oh yeah? prove it.” as result, he fumbles his belt, gets tangled and falls off the bed

★ the moment you’re alone, he’s all over you. hands grabbing at your waist, cupping your ass, pulling you flush against him. i bet groaning like a slut every time you move. “fuuuuck, babe, y’feel so good—jesus, lemme touch ya, so good for me”

★ literally cannot stop touching you, even after he’s cum. nuzzling into your neck, lazy fingers playing with your clit, begging for second round bc he just cant get enough

★ if you're not here with him when hes drunk, he would absolutely text you smth like “babe ya up? cause m’fuckin’ hard, thinkin’ bout ya” which leads to him sending a dick pic with his thumb in the way. “ffffuck. waitt lemme try again”

★ i love showing that this silly old man doesn't know how to use his phone so here's more: ofc he'd send you “thinkin bout ya. fuck baby, wish ya were here right now.” interesting and very tempting right? you smirk, typing back. “yeah? what would you do if i was?”

Stan: gimme a sec

and you wait, you wait a long time. then your phone dings again with message “FUCK. wait. fuckin camera’s flipped” you raise an eyebrow when suddenly another ding.

stan: HOLY SHIT WAIT NO

you open the picture and it’s literally just his forehead, his fucking forehead. you laugh typing “baby what am i supposed to do with it?”

Stan: jesus fuck i was tryna be sexy. whatever. just get over here n’ sit on my fuckin face instead

it came to my mind so suddenly and i think it's cute so i wanted to write it, can be mullet!Stan or our lovely old man Stan, doesn't matter, this man is clingy and needy as fuck when drunk

so. . . imagine you have to take care of his dumb ass :)

“okay, c’mon, big guy,” you grunt, dragging Stan toward the bed, but he’s completely deadweight. arm slung over your shoulder, mumbling absolute nonsense and you groan about his weight, damn hes so big

“babe,” he slurs, grinning all dopey, cheeks flushed. “babe, yer so fuckin’ cute. cutest person in the whole damn world.”

“yeah, yeah,” you huff, trying not to laugh. “cutest person currently trying to keep your ass from collapsing on the floor.”

“hell yeah, i would collapse for you," he says seriously what makes you snort, finally managing to shove him onto the comfy soft bed. but before you can step away, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you right down with him. “nuh-uh,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck. “yer stayin’ here. m’not sleepin’ without ya.”

“Stan.”

“shhh.” he nuzzles closer, his voice already sleepy. “jus’ gimme a kiss, babe.”

you sigh, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. but apparently, that’s not enough. he tilts his head up and looks at you through half-lidded, lips parted.

“mmm. no, sweetie. real kiss.”

“Stan, you’re drunk.”

“m’not that drunk.” he smirks, dragging you down. ”c’mon, sugar. jus’ one.” how can you reject those brown puppy eyes? you kiss him, despite everything, you bring your lips to his, hoping for a light and absolutely innocent kiss, but of course, Stanley immediately turns it filthy, deepening it, groaning into your mouth, trying to pull you on top of him.

“mmm, babe, let's fu—“

“go the fuck to sleep, Stan.”

i could end it right here, but i think that both Stan and Ford, when drunk, will definitely tell you about all their kinks

so you were just trying to get him to bed, but oh no. he’s got something really, really important to tell you. and, of course, he’s whispering it all breathy against your ear. it starts off all sweet snd clingy though, hes saying things like “yer my favorite person ever. ever. fuckin’ love ya. best thing that ever happened to me. wanna keep ya forever. never lettin’ go. nope. yer mine now.” and smothers you in sloppy kisses, your cheek, your jaw, your lips and everywhere he can reach. his hands are wandering, gripping, stroking, but he’s just so damn lazy about it.

and it's not like you dont enjoy it, of course you do, so you let him touch you like that but then he whispers “baby i gotta tell u smth. y’ever think about doin’ real filthy shit?” Stan hiccups and presses his face against your neck. “cause, fuck, i got, like, so many things i wanna do to ya” he pulls back, gripping your face, staring at you all serious. “baby i wanna bend ya over every goddamn surface in this house. countertop. . . table. . . or fuck- fucking you against the wall. shit, babe—just. . . love it when you let me take ya from behind, love seeing that pretty ass bounce. f-fuck, and when ya moan my name like that makes me wanna breed ya.” OH. OH?? damn, your mouth drops open. “Stan—“

“m’serious!” he groans, dragging you onto his lap, rocking his hips up into you. “always wanna fill ya up, sugar. wanna see ya all full n’ dripping” he’s nuzzling into your neck now, biting, groaning against your skin. ”yer so soft, babe. wanna mark ya up. wanna ruin ya so bad. i love when ya pull my hair or when ya get all bratty. fuckin’ love puttin’ ya in yer place. . . or when ya get all sweet n’ beg for it, shit, babe, i’d do anything if ya begged real nice”

he’s rubbing his flushed face against your chest now, breathing heavy, a complete mess. “i love ya. yer the best thing that ever happened to me.”

you sigh, dragging a hand through his hair, smiling despite the fact that ur crazy heart is about to jump out of your chest.

“baby, you’re so drunk.”

he huffs, clinging tighter. “yeah? so what? doesn’t make it less true.”

[babyflorencee]

Lucky in Love

Supersticiousrry x fem!Reader

Harry Styles was, without a doubt, the king of superstitions. He didn’t just follow them; he lived by them. From knocking on wood to avoiding cracks in the sidewalk, Harry was all in. He’d learned all of his rituals from his grandmother, who told him they were essential for living a happy life. And Harry? Well, he was more than willing to believe her, especially now that he had Y/n in his life.

At first, she thought Harry’s obsession with luck was... cute? But then it began to spiral into something else entirely.

It started one morning when Harry rushed into the kitchen, wide-eyed, holding a single sunflower in one hand and a bag of salt in the other. Y/n was sipping her coffee, still half asleep, trying to process why her boyfriend was holding a plant and a bag of salt like they were some kind of holy relics.

“Okay, baby, I need you to listen to me very carefully. This is crucial,” Harry said, dead serious.

“Harry, it’s 7 AM,” Y/n mumbled, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“I forgot to throw salt over my shoulder yesterday, and now our relationship might be at risk.” Harry’s face was so sincere it was almost impressive.

Y/n blinked at him, trying to keep a straight face. “Wait, what?”

“The salt!” Harry said, shaking the bag for emphasis. “It’s like, it’s the ultimate protection spell, okay? I can’t—we can’t—be in a good relationship without salt being thrown at least once a day.”

Y/n stared at him, slowly lowering her mug. “So... you're telling me that we could be doomed if you don’t throw some salt over your shoulder?”

“Yes, exactly! It’s tradition,” Harry said with a nod. “But that’s not all. I need to water this sunflower exactlytwelve times before sunset or it’ll jinx our love life.”

“I—uh... What?” Y/n was now holding back her laughter at this point.

“Oh! And if we don’t both say ‘bless you’ three times when one of us sneezes, we could have seven years of bad luck! Seven years Y/n!” Harry added, his eyes growing wide with concern.

Y/n laughed so hard she almost snorted. “Okay, okay! I’ll throw some salt over my shoulder and water the sunflower. But only if you promise not to go around tapping every single corner in the house with your knuckles again.”

Harry froze, his eyes widening in absolute horror. “Wait—what?” He stared at her like she’d just suggested they give up breathing. “You mean... you don’t knock on every corner for good luck? But... but that’s— that’s like the most important part! ”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. “You can’t actually be serious right now.”

“No, I’m not serious, but this is!” Harry’s face was full of concern as he placed his hands on his hips. “If I don’t knock on every corner, Y/n, it’s like inviting disaster into our lives. It’s the doorway to misfortune, it’s a rule of the universe!”

Y/n bit her lip, holding back laughter. “A doorway to misfortune... right, sure, I get it now.”

Harry, his face pale and on the verge of a meltdown, shook his head in disbelief. “I... I don’t think I can handle that kind of risk. You’re asking me to toss our luck aside." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room as if searching for answers, his expression growing even more dramatic. “How... how is this relationship still standing without you knocking on corners? What kind of dark magic have you unleashed?”

Y/n burst into laughter. "I swear, no magic involved."

Harry exhaled in relief. "Good. Because that's bad luck too. But just to be safe... we're definitely knocking a few corners today. For good measure."

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She burst out laughing, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay! Fine. We'll knock the corners. But only because I love you and don’t want to risk misfortune.”

Harry, his eyes still wide, sighed in relief. “Oh, thank you baby. You really had me there for a second. We can’t mess with the balance of the universe like that!”

Y/n shook her head with a fond smile. “You’re absolutely ridiculous. But I’ll do anything to keep the luck on our side... even if that means I have to go corner-knocking today.”

***

The next day, things got even crazier. Y/n was sitting on the couch in the living room when Harry appeared wearing a very oversized red sock on his left hand. “Baby, what are you doing?” she asked, stifling a laugh.

“I’m wearing my lucky hand-sock,” he explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You just don’t get it. If I wear a sock on my left hand, it brings good fortune. I got a promotion at work yesterday because I did this. So, naturally, I'm going to be doing this every day now.”

“Every day? With a sock on your hand?” Y/n couldn’t contain her giggles any longer.

“Yes,” Harry said solemnly, wiggling his fingers inside the sock. “And you have to do it, too.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even have a sock for my hand!” Y/n protested.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll get you one. We need both hands covered, or else the balance will be off,” Harry said, clearly dead serious.

Y/n’s heart melted at his ridiculousness. He was the dorkiest person she’d ever met, but it was something she couldn’t resist. She nodded and sighed. “Alright, Harry. I’ll wear your sock. But only because you’re way too cute for me to argue with.”

Harry beamed at her like she’d just agreed to marry him. “Perfect! Now we’re both lucky. And don’t forget, we also need to eat pancakes for breakfast every Sunday. Pancakes are the ultimate guide to good luck.”

“Okay, pancakes on Sunday. Got it,” Y/n said with a grin. “What next, Harry?”

“Well, it’s Wednesday, so we can’t eat tomatoes,” Harry said, his tone firm, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/n blinked, baffled. “What? Why not?”

Harry began pacing around the room dramatically, his expression deadly serious. “Tomatoes on Wednesdays?! Y/n, come on! That’s like asking for the universe to smack you upside the head with bad luck. They’re a gateway to disaster! You really want to risk it?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so eating tomatoes on a Wednesday is like... what? A curse or something?”

Harry stopped pacing, looked her dead in the eye, and shook his head, a mix of exasperation and disbelief in his voice. “Exactly. It’s not just any old bad luck, it’s Wednesday bad luck. You’re tempting fate, and fate? Not a fan of tomatoes on Wednesdays. Trust me.”

Y/n stared at him, her mouth agape . “You’re actually serious right now, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really want to test the tomato gods? Because I’m telling you, we’re better off with a different vegetable. Preferably, one that doesn’t cause, you know, catastrophic consequences!"

Y/n burst into laughter. “So you're telling me I can’t have my tomato sandwich for lunch today because of some ancient curse?”

“Exactly!” Harry said, waving his arms dramatically. “Tomatoes on Wednesdays bring nothing but bad vibes. We can’t risk it, Y/n. We just can't. I care too much about us.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, shaking her head. “Okay, okay, no tomatoes on Wednesdays. Got it. But what happens if we accidentally break this rule?”

Harry looked at her seriously. “Don’t even joke about that. If you eat a tomato on a Wednesday, you might accidentally summon bad luck, and we might end up with spilled coffee, broken dishes," he then let out a gasp, putting his right hand over his mouth, "or worse—”

“Or worse?” Y/n interrupted, trying not to laugh.

“Or worse.” Harry said, nodding gravely.

“Alright, no tomatoes for me today then,” Y/n said, standing up from the couch and making her way over to Harry. She leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “But only because I don’t want to anger the tomato gods.”

“It's better to be safe than sorry.” Harry smiled, then did a dramatic twirl and pointed to the door. “Now, we leave, but remember—always step on the right side of the doorframe. That’s the lucky side.”

“Of course.” Y/n rolled her eyes in amusement but followed his lead.

***

A week later, Y/n found herself following Harry around the apartment as he went through his superstitious checklist.

“Alright, now we need to make sure the door’s closed before we go out. It’s bad luck to leave it ajar.” He went around checking every door and window as if the house was an ancient temple that needed to be guarded.

Y/n was trying not to laugh. “And this is all for good luck?”

Harry nodded seriously. “Yes. Trust the process.”

“Okay,” she said, playing along. “Then what do we do if we step on a crack?”

Harry looked at her like she had just asked about summoning a demon. “You don’t step on a crack. That’s like a whole other level of bad luck. You just—don’t.”

Y/n burst into laughter. “What is happening? This is so weird, but also kind of... fun?”

Harry smiled, pulling her close and holding her tightly. “We’re making our own luck, Y/n. It’s not just about superstition—it’s about believing in each other and in the magic we create together.”

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling as she wrapped her arms around him. “Well, whatever it is, I’m starting to think you might be onto something.”

Harry looked at her, his expression full of pride. “See? I told you. The rituals are part of the magic. They work for everything—even our relationship.”

Y/n blinked. “Wait, our relationship?”

Harry nodded, his eyes serious now. “Especially our relationship. I have a whole system in place to make sure our love is always lucky. You know, so nothing can break us apart.”

“Wait, what?” Y/n laughed, though a part of her felt a little skeptical. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” Harry crossed his arms, and smiled. “I’ve got a lot of superstitions about relationships. Like, if we both don’t get enough sleep, it’s bad luck for our bond. And we can never—never—fight on a Wednesday. It’s a curse. Oh, and if we’re ever separated for more than three days, we have to write each other a letter. It’s good luck. It keeps us connected.”

Y/n stared at him, half in awe, half in disbelief. “Okay, I’m not going to lie—that is a lot of pressure for a Wednesday.”

Harry’s face softened, and he took her hand. “I just want to make sure nothing ever comes between us. All these superstitions are like little rituals that makes sure we stay happy together.”

Y/n looked at him for a moment, and then, a sudden warmth filled her chest. She knew it was a bit wild, and way over the top, but the way Harry cared so deeply about making their relationship work made her heart swell.

“Alright, alright,” she said with a grin. “I’ll follow your superstitions. But only if we add a new one—like, ‘No bad vibes in the apartment on Mondays.’”

Harry laughed, clearly delighted, his eyes sparkling, “Deal! See? I knew you’d come around. Lucky socks, salt, lucky charms—soon you’ll be asking for a rabbit’s foot to hang on our door.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far, but maybe we should invest in some lucky socks for real. For next time.”

“Deal!” Harry said, holding out his hand. “Lucky socks it is. But only if you wear them with the green striped ones.”

She shook his hand, grinning. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

As they walked out the door, Y/n couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her. It wasn’t just about Harry’s superstitions, but how much effort he put into making sure their relationship stayed strong. His belief in these little rituals, no matter how silly, made her smile every time. It wasn’t about magic or luck—it was about the care he showed in wanting to hold onto them. And as absurd as it all seemed, she realized she wouldn't trade it for anything. 

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

imagine: You’re going through all the emotions of being on your period with your brothers Sam and Dean, but realize you need a little help from Castiel

You were curled up in the weirdest position, trying to find some relief from the waves of pain coursing through your body. The cramps had hit you like a freight train, and no matter how much you tried to shift, nothing made it go away. The moment you woke up, you could tell it was going to be a long day.

As you lay there, gritting your teeth and doing your best not to cry out, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Dean’s voice broke through the haze of pain. “You good?” he asked in slight confusion, but for the most part amused. His tone was playful, like he was trying to make light of the position he found you in.

You let out a low groan before snapping at him. “Dean, I swear to God, if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, I’ll slap it off of you,” you hissed through clenched teeth, practically vibrating from the pain.

Dean stopped in his tracks, his mouth still curled into that damn grin for a second longer. But when he noticed the agony on your face, the smirk dropped, and his expression turned serious. “Damn, what’s up with you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your abdomen, trying to ride out the cramps. “I feel like I’m gonna fucking die,” you muttered bitterly, voice thick with frustration and pain.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then, you felt his hand gently press against your back. His voice was softer. “What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked.

“Cramps,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips. You hated admitting weakness, but there was nothing you could do to hide it.

Dean didn't hesitate. He sat down beside you, gently shifting the pillow from beneath your head and making room for himself to lie next to you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “I’m sorry you’re hurting, kid. I know I can’t exactly fix this for you, but I can at least stay with you while you get through it. If you need anything, I’m here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body still aching, but his presence was like a balm to your frayed nerves. His voice, calm and steady, made the storm of pain inside your body seem a little less overwhelming.

“Thanks, Dean,” you murmured, feeling a surprising comfort from his words.

“If you need anything, I’ll be your errand boy. You just say the word.”

Sam wandered into the room at that point, catching the tail end of your exchange. He looked from you to Dean, immediately sensing something was off. “What’s going on?” Sam asked at the same time Dean mouthed period cramps to him behind your back. Dean’s eyes widened immediately, knowing that would set you off.

Before Dean could answer, you snapped, voice sharper now. “I swear, I’m gonna lose it if I have to keep dealing with this.”

Sam frowned, his eyes softening with concern. “You’re in pain, I get it. But take it easy, okay?”

You shook your head, barely holding it together now. “Easy? Easy? This? I can barely even move without feeling like I’m being stabbed repeatedly!” Your frustration bubbled over, and you didn’t even care that you were sounding irrational. The pain made you irrational.

And then, as if all the emotions that had been building up for days exploded, the tears came. They were hot, and they burned as they ran down your cheeks. The pain was too much, and you were just so tired of it.

Dean looked at you, his eyes softening, clearly unsure how to handle you in this state. His usual playful charm had disappeared, and now, he just seemed... concerned. “Hey, hey, come on, don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”

But all you could think about was the fact that this cycle—this suffering—was something you couldn’t escape. The tears kept coming, and before you even knew it, you found yourself speaking without thinking.

“When we find God, remind me to ask him why the hell he thought it was a good idea to make women suffer like this.” You sniffled between your words, wiping at your eyes. “And if I ever find Eve, I swear, it’s on sight. I don’t care.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean raised an eyebrow. He chuckled softly, though it was a little strained. “You know, kid, I’ve got your back on that. Eve? Totally on sight.”

Sam, though, looked a bit more concerned.

“Y/N,” he started and you could already tell he was going to get all touchy feely and you weren’t exactly in the mood for it. You were actually in the mood to fight someone and thinking about Eve made you seethe.

“Okay, that’s it. I can’t do this anymore,” you cut Sam off muttering through gritted teeth. “I’m calling Cas.”

Both of your brothers’ eyes went wide, clearly startled by your sudden outburst. “Wait, wait—Cas? What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Dean, ever the protective older brother, had a look of horror. “Uh, you sure that’s a good idea? Cas is... I mean, I get it, but he’s not exactly... helpful when it comes to, you know, cramps and whatever else you’re dealing with. He’s gonna make everything way more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Dean, you have no idea,” you said, sitting up with effort. “You don’t get it. Cas knows stuff. He can probably tell me why the hell we’re cursed with this biological nonsense.”

You were already pulling your phone out of your pocket and texting Castiel without hesitation. Cas, get your grace in here now. I need answers.

Within minutes, the familiar sound of his arrival in the bunker echoed through the hall, and the next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his expression confused as ever.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, a little louder than necessary. “Cas! You’re just the angel I need.”

Sam’s face dropped in disbelief. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his voice almost pleading.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temples, but you could tell he was more than amused. “You’re killing me kid.”

You weren’t paying attention to them anymore, already sitting up slightly and glaring at Castiel with an intensity that only a woman going through hell on Earth could possess. “Cas! Maybe you can help me with something. Why did your father want to make me suffer?”

Castiel blinked, as lost as ever. “My father? I don’t—”

You were getting impatient. “God, Cas. I’m talking about periods and the suffering that comes with being a woman. Why did he do that to me?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of your words. “I... I’m not entirely sure I understand...”

Sam had his face buried in his hands at this point in utter disbelief. “You really called Cas for this?”

You ignored him, still laser-focused on the angel. “Was it because Eve bit the apple? Because if that’s it, I swear to God, I’m going straight to her. I don’t care. I’m taking it up with her myself.”

You could practically hear Dean choking on his laughter in the background.

Castiel tilted his head, as if he were pondering your words like they were some grand cosmic mystery.

“Eve? The first woman?” he asked cautiously. “Well, yes, technically. Eve’s actions with the apple did cause certain... consequences.”

Your jaw dropped. “So, you’re telling me that because of Eve, I have to suffer through this every month?” You waved a hand at your cramping body in frustration. “Every month, Cas. You have no idea how bad this hurts.”

Castiel blinked again, processing. “Well, yes... it is an unfortunate result of the... fall from grace, so to speak. But, the suffering you feel... it is not a punishment. It is... well, a part of being human.”

You narrowed your eyes, not having the patience for his usual philosophical nonsense. “No, Cas. I don’t want some deep answer about ‘the human condition.’ I want to know where Eve is because I need to have words with her.”

Castiel looked at you like you had asked him to solve the mysteries of the universe. “Uh...”

You leaned in a little closer, determined to get some kind of answer. “Wait—were you even there when Eve was around?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Castiel’s eyes flickered like he wasn’t sure how to answer. Finally, he spoke up. “Yes, I... I was there. But, I... I don’t believe I ever interacted with her much.”

You stared at him incredulously. “Okay so you didn’t even try to stop her either? So I can technically add you onto the list of people I need to have a word with?”

“Well,” he began, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly... allowed to interact with her.”

Sam was standing in the doorway by now, rubbing his eyes. “This is getting out of hand,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to suffer? Why does every woman on this planet have to go through this? I didn’t ask for this, you know?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, the weight of your frustration clearly sinking in. “I... I will go and find answers for you,” he said, his usual confidence returning in a determined tone. “I will seek out more information on Eve, on why these consequences were set in motion.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden promise. “You will? Really?”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Yes. I will leave now and return with the answers you seek.”

“Okay wait Cas! See if you can reverse it-” But before you could even finish, he disappeared with the familiar flutter of wings.

Sam turned to you with an exasperated sigh. “So... you really just called him and told him to find Eve?”

You nodded, arms crossed over your chest. “Hey, I figure if anyone knows where she’s hiding, it’s Cas. And if he’s going to keep dropping cryptic answers, maybe he can at least help fix this.”

Dean flopped back down next to you on the bed, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just don’t be mad at me when Cas brings back some ancient scroll saying it was Eve’s fault.”

“I’ll be mad at everyone,” you said with a small laugh. “But mostly Eve.”

Dean gave you a soft smile, the lightheartedness back in his tone, though it was now tinged with a genuine concern. “Well, kid, if I had a magic wand, I’d wave it. But since I don’t, just know I’m here. If you need anything—anything—you know I got you, okay?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Thanks. I guess... I guess I’ll survive this, somehow.”

Dean grinned, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need a punching bag, Sam’s your man.”

Sam shot him a glare but then softened. “Don’t listen to him.”

You chuckled weakly, your mind desperate for a distraction from the pain. “You know what would make this day a little better?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“Legally Blonde,” you said with a sigh of relief, the thought of a lighthearted movie soothing your mind even if just a little.

Dean’s face lit up. “Sammy’s favorite.” He winked.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I picked it.” You said sending Dean an over exaggerated wink right back.

Sam groaned from the doorway, clearly not impressed. “Seriously, guys? Come on.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Come on, Sammy, I just know your bag was going to be full of pink sparkly pens at law school.”

Dean shot you a playful grin. “He was gonna walk into the courtroom and say, ‘Objection, Your Honor—this is unacceptable!’ and flip his hair dramatically.”

Sam glared at Dean, but it was obvious he was trying not to smile. He shook his head, muttering, “I can't even believe you two are making fun of me for wanting to be a lawyer. But fine, fine, let’s watch Legally Blonde.”

You settled back into the pillows with a satisfied sigh. “Great choice, Sammy. I knew you were cool under all that lawyer talk.”

Sam let out a reluctant laugh. “Alright, alright. But you guys better be ready for The Trial of the Century. Because Elle Woods? She’s gonna win this thing.”

And for the first time in hours, you felt a flicker of joy. It wasn’t about the cramps—it was about the three of you, trying to make light of the situation, and you realized, you’d survive this, one laugh at a time. Oh and hopefully with some answers from Cas!

[dualityvn]

After seeing your response to the boys' meeting MC by pretending to be their boyfriend, I couldn't get the idea out of my head. So here is the Tenebris version. Even though it's scary to share my first fanfic, I hope you enjoy it and that I portrayed him well. I truly love your game! Keith's fic is in a separate ask so it won't get too long.

x x x

“Is this seat taken?” The bored looking man startles at the sound of your voice, looking up at you with too-wide eyes from the park bench you’ve just approached. The blue patches on his skin are interesting, but you don’t have time to consider if they’re real or not.

“Uh...No?” he responds cautiously.

“Perfect,” you sigh in relief and plunk yourself down next to him. A beat of silence passes before you blurt, “So I know this is gonna sound crazy, but will you please pretend to be my boyfriend?” 

“Huh?!” his eyes somehow widen even further in shock. Understandable, but not the answer you need. You sigh before elaborating.

“Any minute now my coworker is going to come down that path looking for me. He’s been asking me out for weeks, but won’t take no for an answer. I want to put a stop to it for good. Ergo, will you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“Why me?” he asks incredulously. It’s not a no, but not a yes either. Desperate, you swallow your embarrassment and opt for the truth. Gesturing to his punk styled outfit you speak.

“Honestly? I think you look cool and you seem strong enough to handle yourself.” He stares at you in stunned silence, clearly not expecting that answer. And… are his cheeks turning purple?! More importantly, you spot your coworker coming around the bend. You’re running out of time.

“Sorry, but I can’t lie. So no.” He sounds gruff yet genuinely apologetic. 

“Can’t lie? What, you fae or something?” you ask sarcastically, 1000% done with this day.

“Yeah, actually” he says, mildly surprised. Now it’s your turn to be stunned into wide-eyed silence. He looks dead serious. Groaning internally about the unfairness of attractive men with delusions you accept you’re just gonna have to make this work.

“Since I don’t have time to unpack that I’m just gonna roll with it. Let’s try this again. Will you actually be my boyfriend for the next 15 minutes? I’ll make it up to you,” you bite your lip nervously, shooting a glance over his shoulder.

The “fae” takes a moment to consider you, his expression unclear in your nervous state. After what feels like an eternity his eyes lock with yours and he utters the one word you were hoping for, “Deal.”

“Oh, thank fuck. Sorry about this”

“Wha-”

You quickly cuddle up to him on the bench, wrapping his arm around you. As you lay your head on his shoulder you feel him tense. 

“Relax, I’m not gonna bite you,” you hiss.

He grumbles a response, but relaxes…marginally and not a moment too soon. Your unwanted coworker has spotted you, judging by his increased pace.

“By the way, what’s your name?” you whisper. A shiver passes through your temporary boyfriend as your breath tickles his ear. You stifle the urge to tease him more.

“T-Tenebris,” he chokes out, “What’s your-”

“There you are!” a voice cuts Tenebris off, “I was starting to think you were avoiding me on pur…pose….” Your coworker trails off at the scene before him.

“Who’s this?” he asks you, jealousy threading through his voice.

“Oh, Leonard. Meet my boyfriend, Tenebris. Ten, honey, this is the guy I’ve been telling you about.” To his credit, Tenebris manages to not react to your use of a pet name. “The one that keeps asking ya out even when ya tell him no?” he growls convincingly.

“I wasn’t aware you had a boyfriend,” Leonard says sulkily.

“That’s because ‘No’ is a complete sentence on its own,” you say sweetly, leaning further into your “boyfriend’s” hold.

“Plus it’s none of your fucking business,” Tenebris snaps.

“I…see,” Leonard says, reluctant to give up.

“Do ya?” Tenebris asks, eyes narrowing, “Cuz I don’t see ya leaving yet, asshole.”

Leonard sputters indignantly before looking at you. You wrap an arm around Tenebris’ waist, as if there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. In reality you’re fighting not to laugh, so you nuzzle into Tenebris’ neck to hide your expression. He jolts like he’s been touched by a live wire.

“I… I guess I’ll be on my way then.” Leonard finally concedes.

“You do that,” Tenebris says menacingly, eyes glaring daggers as he turns back the way he came. For a few tense moments you stay like that.

“He’s gone,” Tenebris finally says. You slowly sit up and move away, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that. I was about to crack up laughing,” you say smiling sheepishly. Tenebris returns a rather…squiggly???... smile of his own. Was that makeup too?

“The look on his face was pretty great.” he agrees, “What a creep, though. Ya seriously put up with him?”

“Not willingly,” you say, standing up. “Well, handsome, I’ve taken enough of your time. Thanks for the help.” Before you can leave, a hand grabs your sleeve. Confused, you turn to look at Tenebris, now sporting a definitely purple blush on skin bluer than you remember.

“It hasn’t been 15 minutes yet.” he mutters, not looking at you, “Ya said you’d make it up to me.”

“You actually want me to?” you ask surprised.

“A deal’s a deal, ain’t it?” he retorts.

“True,” you say, “Well, do you like sweets? I know a great place nearby. My treat!” Tenebris brightens, nodding enthusiastically before letting you lead the way. Soon enough you’re strolling down the street, treats in hand.

“Did ya mean it?” he asks suddenly between bites.

“Mean what?”

“When ya called me handsome,” he says quietly.

“Oh!” you smile shyly, “Well, yeah.” 

Tenebris grins as he takes a particularly large bite of his dessert. Before parting ways he asks for your number. You write it on his hand, surprised he actually wants to see you again. As you walk home, you idly wonder when you’ll see him next.

This is really nicely written! Especially for your first fanfic! And Tenebris was very in character! Love it overall 10/10, thank you for sharing ^^

[heartsforjh]

Six Lines

𝒥𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝐻𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓍 𝐹𝑒𝓂!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

main masterlist | six lines masterlist

“Baby? Baby, did you take your vitamins yet?” your husband, Jack, asks for what feels like the hundredth time this morning, stepping into the view of the TV.

You sigh, sitting on the couch, just trying to watch the new season of your show. You haven’t been able to watch it since it came out a month ago, and it’s been driving you crazy trying to avoid spoilers.

Admittedly, you answer him with a bit of venom. “Not yet, honey.”

He’s been like this ever since the two of you found out about the baby at only one week. It was sweet at first—a concerned husband and dad-to-be—but it quickly got old. Now you’re six weeks in, and you’ve started to feel like Jack may very well be practicing his parenting on you.

“Hey, lose the attitude. I’m trying to take care of you here,” he says, his tone soft.

You try to look around him to see the TV, but it’s no use. “J, move. I’m trying to see this.”

“Baby, I get that your hormones are all over the place, but you don’t have to be so mean,” he says sternly, as if he thinks he has the right to lecture you.

You roll your eyes. “Or maybe you’re just majorly pissing me off.”

“Okay… for my sake, I’m gonna say it’s the hormones,” he says with a nod, heading back into the kitchen.

Just when you think you’ve lost him, he comes back in and sits next to you on the couch. “So, vitamins?”

You glance over at him to see he’s holding the bottle of prenatals. You let out a scoff, but decide it couldn’t hurt to take them right now, especially since he brought them to you, saving you a trip to the kitchen.

“J, if I take these… will you please leave me alone?” you ask, fully serious.

He raises an eyebrow at you, not sure whether to be offended or amused. “I can’t love on my wife?”

“No,” you shoot back, grabbing the bottle and getting your vitamins out for the morning. “Now, answer.”

“I mean, I guess I will if it’ll get you to take them,” he says with a shrug.

You immediately pop the vitamins into your mouth. “Great! Thank you!”

Jack nods and gives you a kiss on the cheek. He gets up and walks away from the couch. He wants to give you the space you need, but truthfully, he’s a little hurt that you want him away from you.

Later in the day, you need to make a quick run upstairs. As you approach the stairs, you hear a certain someone’s footsteps and they sound like they’re coming toward you. When Jack grabs your hand and puts his other hand on your waist, it only confirms your suspicions.

“Do you need help, baby?” he asks, and you can’t help but think about how ridiculous that is. He’s already trying to help, and then he wants to ask if you need it after the fact.

You sigh, again, trying to keep your composure and not be too mean, knowing he has good intentions. “I’m a big girl. I’ve got it handled.”

“But I don’t want you to fall. It’s easy to do when you’re pregnant,” he insists, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

You sigh, for what may actually be the hundredth time, feeling even more guilty at how irritated you are because of him. “And I appreciate that, I really do. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not even showing yet. We’re like a month into this pregnancy, Jacky. I promise you, there is absolutely nothing throwing me off balance.”

“I’ve seen you fall over nothing, baby. I’m not letting my clumsy, pregnant wife walk up the stairs alone,” he says, kissing your cheek. “Now, come on, pretty girl. Let’s go up.”

You exhale, accepting that this is your life now. You thought Jack coddled you before, but this is a whole new level of insane.

“Thank you. It was really good,” You say, finishing up dinner, the one Jack made—of course.

He smiles, pleased with himself. “Thank you. I’m really glad you liked it.”

“Mhm,” you hum with a light nod.

You start to feel a little nauseous, so before doing anything else, you get up from the table, head to the fridge, grab a water, and gulp it down. By the time you feel you’ve had enough, you look over and see that Jack’s now up from his seat, bringing your plate to the sink.

“I was gonna do that. I can do that,” you say, with a tinge of annoyance.

He looks up from what he’s doing. “Yeah… yeah, I know.”

“So… stop, please. I was gonna do that! I just got up for two seconds! Why would you do that?” you say, frustrated. The more you speak, the more you’re working yourself up.

You’ve started to feel horrible when he does things like this. You’re going to be a mom soon. You’re definitely not a helpless baby, so why is he treating you like one?

Jack frowns, confused at why you’re freaking out at him over some plates. “I—I just wanted to help.”

“You’re not helping! I can clean up after myself! So, how is that helpful? You’re not doing anything special cause it was gonna get done either way!” you press, growing increasingly upset.

Jack winces at the sight of you being so bothered, but he’s still confused as to what he’s doing wrong. “Hey, hey, hey. Why are you being like this?”

“You’re just being so annoying! I can’t stand it.” You say, frustration bubbling over.

You storm out of the kitchen, not wanting to be in there any longer. Mostly because you’re upset at Jack, but partly because the sad look on his face is starting to get to you.

Not long after, it’s time for bed. When Jack comes into the room, the tension is thick. You sit on the bed in your nightset, watching as he moves around the room to get ready for sleep. He looks so innocent, simply going about his bedtime routine. You feel an intense feeling of guilt for how you’ve treated him all day. However, you don’t want to bring it up if he’s not already thinking about it.

He gets dressed and lies down in the bed without saying a word, and he seems mad. That is, until he sticks his arms out for you. “Come here, baby.”

You immediately melt, moving right into his arms and cuddling up with him. He kisses the top of your head and starts stroking your hair. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean. Well, I kind of was, but… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you explain as best you can.

Jack nods, giving you another kiss on the head to reassure you that he’s not angry. “Okay, talk to me. What did I do to upset you?”

“I just… you’re not treating me very normal. I don’t like it. I know I’m pregnant now, but I can still do things on my own. It won’t be like that for long. Soon I’ll be forcing you to put my shoes on for me. I just want to enjoy my independence while I still can,” you finally open up, and get your feelings off your chest.

But it doesn’t relieve how you feel. If anything, telling him makes you more anxious. What if you make him feel worse? Him being a little overbearing doesn’t mean he deserves that.

Jack just nods, staying silent for a moment that feels like an eternity to you. “Yeah… I—I get that. You’re right. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. There’s no excuse for suffocating you like that, but I want you to know it wasn’t on purpose. You have to remember, this is my first time doing all of this too. I’m still trying to understand it, and all I know is that my girl is carrying my baby, and there’s so little I can do to stop the things you’ll have to go through. I feel kind of useless, honestly. And I’ve been trying to find ways to fix that. I’m sorry, baby.”

“That makes sense. I should’ve told you I was getting irritated way sooner. I say I want to be treated like an adult, but then I was just plain mean to you. That wasn’t exactly mature of me,” you admit, defeated.

Jack smiles softly, easing the tension in the room. “I forgive you. We’re both just trying to figure this thing out on our own. We should start doing it together, you know? Let’s communicate better. If I’m bothering you, I want you to tell me, okay?”

“Okay. And if you think I’m… I guess being overly mean to you, please tell me. I don’t like knowing I may be hurting your feelings. Oh! And I’ll make sure to ask if I actually need help with something,” you say, glancing up at him.

He smiles down at you and kisses you on the nose. “Deal. You’re lucky you’re cute. I can’t be mad at you.”

“So… can you please rub my back? It hurts,” you ask him, and the room goes silent for a moment.

“All of a sudden you want my help?” he asks, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

hey guys! i’m not sure how good this part is… i wrote it at like 3AM so idk if i trust my own sleep deprived judgement right now. nevertheless, i hope you all enjoyed! <3

tags: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle

join the taglist here!

[luiluvr]

ok disclaimer this request is based off tiktok comments which we don't know are true 😭 but you and college!luigi are part of the same friend group and you all go on a camping trip together, you *thought* you'd be sharing a tent with one of your best girl friends but turns out she's brought her bf last minute leaving you without one so you tent up with luigi. but that. mother. FUCKER!! cannot stop snoring and you can't fall asleep at all so eventually you wake him up and are like bro please 😭 but he's so sweet about it and a lil embarrassed and offers to stay up while you fall asleep so he doesn't bug you cause he's a cutie

oh boy oh boy i have been ACHING to write something about his snoring ☹️☹️

WARNINGS: none! just lu being sweet to you and snoring.. a lot, and uses of Y/N.. this is also shorter i'm working on another request that'll be longer <333

“Should I kill her now or later?” You thought, as your best friend broke news you both would not be sharing a tent. When this camping trip was planned, you specifically wanted to share a tent with her. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, it was the fact you had always shared a tent with her in the past — so you were naturally used to her presence when your friend group had these little trips. That was a lost cause now. Unbeknownst to you, she invited her boyfriend last minute and decided they would be sharing a tent.

You stare at her blankly as her boyfriend smiles, “So…What am I supposed to do?” You ask her.

“Uhh, I don’t know.” She says quietly, clearly she didn’t think it through either. It was a few minutes of silence before her boyfriend spoke up and responded, “Luigi’s not sharing a tent with anyone. you may ask him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind it.”

Luigi Mangione. One of the more loved people at college, you had ended up in a bigger friend group with him; so you knew him but only so much. He was a typical person that all the girls were always crushing on, sneaking pictures of, there was even a rumored group chat where they’d talk and send pictures of him. Sure, he was handsome but was it that serious?

You nod. Luigi was a really nice person, so you didn’t doubt he would tell you no. It’s the fact your best friend should’ve mentioned it two hours ago when you all originally left for the trip. “Alright.” You said quietly, by now everyone was arranging their tents and Luigi — he was busy watching the stream. He always enjoyed the little things and admired nature. He was- from what you knew- fairly shy. For someone always so out there, so smart and always up for going places besides campus; he was incredibly introverted.

He had plenty of friends, but he never bonded on a deep level, you knew that much from other people who knew him better.

You shove your hands in your pocket and sigh, walking over to him, smiling awkwardly as you watch the current rush and wash over the rocks inside. Occasionally a small fish would wiggle and swim in the crystal colored waters. You clear your throat and speak up finally, “Hey, Luigi?”

His head turns — his jawline dotted with stubble, and a warm smile welcomes you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get caught up in his gaze, his hazel eyes are so entrancing. You can’t help but look away as you ask, “Would you be alright if I stay in your tent? Riri brought her boyfriend and decided at the last minute to tell me they’re bunking together so I don’t have anywhere to sleep now.” He chuckles, nodding to you. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Thank you so much, Luigi.”

“Of course.”

You and your friends spent most of the afternoon setting up, you’d spend the rest of the weekend hiking, exploring and enjoying each other’s company. Luigi had taken your sleeping bag and set up the inside of the tent, he didn’t make you do anything, you were “his” guest—as he put it.

By evening, the campfire was lit, lighting up the smiles of your friends; the mix of conversation and laughs filled the air. You sat comfortably on your favorite lawn chair, a maroon rackety-old thing that held up like a warrior. Luigi moved closer beside you, quietly and shimmied comfortably in his chair.

“Oh yeah, Y/N, heads up, Luigi snores a lot, so good luck.” You tilt your head, Luigi? Snores? You highly doubted that. But oh, was Riri’s boyfriend right.

Before you initially got in the tent, you had spent a few minutes talking to your other friends about things you all may do tomorrow, you heard some noises but passed it off. That was, until you climbed into the tent, Luigi was already passed out, softly snoring. It’s not that bad. You thought. It was rather chilly, but he still slept shirtless, comfortably curled up in the sleeping bag. His curls were the only sight from this angle.

You got comfortable in your own sleeping bag and exhaled, relieved to finally get to rest after the long trip. Inevitably, as your eyes began to flutter shut, Luigi let out this snore. It scared you back awake. You realized it was just him; and nothing of actual worry — you slightly peered over at him, although the tent was dark, the tiny bits of moonlight that managed its way through freckled his calm, handsome complexion.

He had stopped for the moment, so you assume he only does it every so often and you could stand sleeping with his snores beside you.

Alas, you huddled down, zipped the sleeping bag and nuzzled into the soft cushioning. Your eyes closed, body relaxed. The quiet buzzes of nature make it feel more realistic and comforting.

Then he snored.

It wasn’t that bad, so you let him snore on; and continued to try and pursue slumber, but as the night progressed, it got deeper and louder. You had managed to fall asleep but were woken right away by his snores, it was honestly annoying but simultaneously endearing. He was so sweet you couldn’t be mad at him for it, though anyone else you would have woken and told to go sleep somewhere else — it was different with Lu.

After some time though, you realized how late it had gotten, almost 4AM, you needed to sleep or you wouldn’t want to do anything tomorrow with the group. Gently, you grasp his shoulder and shake him. It only elicits a bigger snore, and a flinch from yourself. You give it a moment, not wanting to scare him awake.

“Luigi.” You whispered, nudging him a little harder this time. He groans, shifting ever so slightly and slowly coming to.

“Y/N?” His tone was so sleepy, mumbled and kind of cute.

“Hey…I’m not trying to be rude, but you’re snoring a lot.” You chuckle, quietly.

“I’m so sorry,” He says as he sits up, his muscles flexed as he stretched a bit. “I know I snore pretty roughly, my older sister hated sharing a room with me when we were younger.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, “I get it, I didn’t want to seem like an asshole about it or act like it’s a world-ending thing that you’re snoring…”

“No, no. You’re fine Y/N, thanks for waking me up. I had a lot of signs of sleep apnea when I was younger, I struggled with it for a while. When I snore all night it makes my throat hurt.” He states, rubbing his arm. You nod, he was too nice about it. Whenever you confronted a sibling or roommate about snoring they told you to ignore it or get earplugs. Not Luigi.

“How about this,” He says, staying quiet so as to not wake everyone sleeping in the tents beside yours. “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep and you’re good — then I’ll go back to sleep too so I won’t disturb you. Is that okay?”

He was offering such a sweet little thing, it wasn’t that big of a deal but for you it meant everything.

You agreed, it seemed the only logical conclusion and he was willing to lack his own sleep just so you could rest comfortably without his snoring. “That’s really nice of you, Luigi, thank you.”

“Of course.” Even in the dim light, his smile lines carved and dimples became more prominent, somehow his face lit the darkness alone.

And that’s exactly what you did, he shared a blanket he brought, covered you and as you tucked yourself in, he stayed sitting up and relaxed, he wouldn’t admit it but he did watch you for a bit just to make sure you were comfortable and you were able to fall asleep — which you were; and you did.

The next morning — almost afternoon, the group was buzzing as they snacked on granola bars and sipped on water or coffee they kept in thermal cups. Luigi had exchanged into a blue tank top with a Lion King reference on the front and those lousy basketball shorts all the boys seemed to enjoy wearing, despite them looking goofy.

As you managed around, got changed in your tent for a day of exploring and probable hiking, Lu approached you with a sly smile.

“Good morning.” He hums.

“Morning, Luigi.” You replied.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes, I actually did. Thank you, again by the way.” You said cheerfully.

“Yeah, it’s no problem! I guess that’ll be our routine while we’re tenting up together.” He laughs, leaning against a small tree nearby.

“Suppose so.” You nod.

“Oh and by the way, Y/N?”

“Yes, Luigi?”

“You snore. A lot.”

[sitepathos]

Hello. I really enjoy your story, "From Mold to Gold". The story is very well written that I could feel the emotions the reader is feeling. Please keep up the good work, but take your time. The real world can be overwhelming, and sometimes, writer's block can get in the way.

I was wondering if you have heard a song called "Thank You for Hating Me" by Citizen Soldier. When I heard that song, it made me think of your story. I imagine the reader going to a karaoke bar in Las Vegas to blow off some steam or something, and when they noticed the batfam there, the reader decided to show them how they feel (takes place after chapter 11). With this song, it would show that the reader is the bigger person form moving on from their past and growing into someone better. At the same time, telling the batfam to leave them alone and paint them in a bad light, even though everyone read The Daily Planet.

I thought this would be a good little one-shot or thought that I had. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Love your story. I can't wait for the next chapter.

#ask #from gold to mold

I swear, when you sent that ask, I was already halfway done with 12 and when I saw Vegas, I legit thought you had future sight, or something! I’m serious, I freaked out a little!

Also, I have to thank you for introducing me to this song! It’s amazing and I swear it could be the song of this entire series! It fits Reader to a T!

But as for your ask, you’d actually do amazing at a karaoke bar since the Megamycete has absorbed so countless people with musical abilities from across the ages, many of them quite talented at singing. If you wanted to, you could easily make a career of it if you wanted to.

But, if you were to perform “Thank You for Hating Me,” you’d definitely look them in the eye the entire time.

While you’re on stage, they can hear the pain, suffering, and hatred in every word. They knew they treated you wrong, but hearing you sing really drives home just how much they hurt you all those years.

Bruce would keep his emotionless mask intact (mostly), but he nearly cries when he hears the line “for making me feel I’m not enough.” It’s then he realizes that he really never took the time to get to know you. When he first met you, he was dealing with Jason’s death by burying himself in his work and he was too stupid to see himself in you that night in Crime Alley; and when his family grew, he still treated you like an outsider because he knew you weren’t fit to be a vigilante with them and you lacked the capability to aid them like Barbara. No matter what excuses he can muster, he made you feel like you were worthless and there’s no changing that.

Dick cries practically during the entire time. Seriously, this song just puts all his insecurities about his treatment of you on blast and he feels even more of a failure of a big brother. The title is what started it and he’s just blubbering, “I can never hate you, baby bird!” If there’s one thing in this life Dick holds dear to his heart, it’s his title as the big brother of the Wayne Family and you singing this song emphasizes that he failed and it’s haunted him ever since Alfred reminded him that you exist.

Jason, while upset over you putting your feelings about them in song form, feels closer to you as the song gives him a glimpse into how you see things. Ever since he learned that you were kidnapped (in his territory, no less) and were beaten to near death and then shot in the head like an animal, he’s been a powder keg just waiting to blow as it brought up all the memories of his death at the hands of Joker. To him, the two of you are kindred spirits, especially since you were brought back to life just like him. He also feels a connection to you when you say the line “for seething me off like a loaded gun” because he’s known his temper has always been his greatest weakness, even before meeting Bruce and when he hears the anger in your voice while you’re on stage, he sees a younger version of himself in you. He’s spent years running his mouth about how there’s no one in the family he can relate to and he was too fucking stupid to see how alike the two of you are.

Tim, while feeling like shit during your performance, spends the time to analyze your singing and he ponders if you were always capable of singing like this (how could he have missed that?!) or if the Megamycete has given you the ability to sing like this? He also can’t help but feel targeted when you look him in the eye when you say the lines “to hide how much you hate yourself,” “go get some help,” and “cause you’re always gonna be alone.” It’s like you know all his insecurities and you know just how to pick at them. Of course, with how they treated you like you didn’t exist for years, it would make sense that you more about them then they previously thought. He’ll have to update his profile on you when he gets back home… after he gets done crying in the shower, of course.

Steph and Cass are both in the same boat because they both cringe at the line “for showing no love” because they’re both guilty of that. Steph used you when she first got to the manor, showing you affection for a week and then discarding you like some toy when she eventually got bored with you because you weren’t a vigilante and Cass didn’t give you a second glance when she deemed you weak and not a threat. Back then, you weren’t a part of the family or even a person to them and now, they’d give anything to go back and fix their mistakes.

Damian, like Bruce, keeps a mask on the entire time, but on the inside, he’s torn up. He knows when he first arrived, he wasn’t the friendliest person and his upbringing with the LoA didn’t have room for any familiar affections. He grew up with knowledge that he was the rightful heir to the Bat and the Demon, but when he learned of your existence, he felt threatened as it would make sense that the firstborn son would inherit his legacy and so he attacked you. And once he found out you had no training and no way to defend yourself, he went out of his way to demean you so you would never rise above your station and threaten his position as the next head of the Wayne Family. But, in recent years, he’s learned the importance of family and has slowly come to respect and build a rapport with each of his siblings… even Drake. But due to his arrogance, he scorned you, his only blood brother, and has no idea on how he’s going to fix it.

Will this change their minds about bringing you back to Gotham and convince them to leave you alone once and for all? Hell no. They’re too far into their delusions and there’s no way of bringing them out of it. All it does is just add fuel to the fire.

Also, people record this and post it online, one video titled “Forgotten Wayne Blasts Neglectful Family.” It gets 50m views within an hour of its posting.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Valentine's day

SYPNOSIS : valentine's day has come and so has your boyfriend's excitement

1 2 3

Ino Takuma (boyfie)

Takuma Ino x Reader A Dorky but Sweet Valentine’s Day

SO NERVOUS BUT TRYING HIS BEST – Ino really wants to impress you, but he’s lowkey panicking the entire time. He spent days planning the perfect Valentine’s date, only to second-guess everything last minute. “Wait should I have gone with roses instead of tulips?! What if she hate this restaurant?!”

Goes for a Classic But Well Planned Date – Dinner at a nice but not too fancy restaurant (he doesn’t want to overdo it), followed by a nighttime walk where he casually (but totally on purpose) slips his hand into yours.

THE GIFT? HE STRUGGLED, BUT IT’S PERFECT – He definitely asked Gojo for advice and immediately regretted it. In the end, he picked something from the heart maybe a keychain with an inside joke, or a book you mentioned once (he totally remembered). If you give him a gift too? Instantly flustered.

Blushes So Hard If You Compliment Him – The second you say “You look handsome today,” he chokes on his drink. “ME? HANDSOME??” And when you thank him for everything, he scratches the back of his head, so red, mumbling, “Yeah, well… anything for you.”

A Soft, Shy Confession at the End of the Night – Right before you part ways, he takes a deep breath, looks so serious, and says, “I know I’m not the smoothest guy, but I really, really like you. A lot.” (And then immediately looks away because he cannot handle your reaction.)

Inumaki toge (boyfie)

Inumaki Toge x Reader A Silent Valentine’s Day

Expresses His Love Without Words – Since Inumaki can’t speak freely, he gets extra creative in showing his love. He’s been planning for weeks writing little notes, practicing using his facial expressions more, and maybe even learning a few new hand signs just for you. (Nanami catches him in the hallway making hearts with his hands and just sighs.)

A Date That Feels Like a Secret Adventure – He takes you somewhere special maybe a quiet rooftop with fairy lights or a hidden café that’s so cozy it feels like your own little world. He doesn’t need grand gestures; he just wants quality time with you, somewhere peaceful where he can admire you without distractions.

The Sweetest, Most Thoughtful Gifts – Inumaki’s gifts are so personal they almost make you cry. Maybe it’s a little scrapbook of your best memories together, filled with captions in his handwriting. Maybe it’s a playlist he spent hours making, filled with songs that remind him of you. Or maybe he gives you a charm bracelet with tiny little symbols that represent your inside jokes. Whatever it is, it’s so full of love that you feel your heart melt.

Blushy but Acts Cool When You Compliment Him – When you thank him or tell him how much you love his gift, his ears turn pink, but he just shrugs all cool and nonchalant. “Salmon.” (Translation: ‘It was nothing, but I’m secretly freaking out because you’re adorable.’)

Communicates Through Touch – Since he can’t say much, he lets his actions do the talking. He’ll lace his fingers with yours, gently squeeze your hand when he wants to tell you something, and softly brush his thumb over your knuckles when you’re not looking. When he pulls you into a hug, it’s so warm, so safe, like he’s saying I love you without needing any words.

A Silent but Powerful Love Confession – At some point in the night, he just stops and looks at you really looks at you, like he’s memorizing every detail. Then he takes a deep breath, pulls out a small note, and hands it to you. It just says, ‘You make me happier than words ever could.’ And when you look up at him, he’s smiling soft, real, and completely in love.

The Most Gentle Goodbye – He doesn’t want the night to end, but when it’s time to go, he wraps his scarf around you, making sure you’re warm before cupping your face in his hands. Then, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before whispering against your skin, “Tuna.” (Translation: ‘I love you more than anything.’)

Mahito 💀💀 (boyfie)

Mahito x Reader A Valentine’s Day or more like a horror movie

THINKS IT’S HILARIOUS – Mahito loves human traditions, but not in a cute way. He finds Valentine’s Day utterly ridiculous and spends most of it mocking the concept. “So, you humans just… dedicate a whole day to love? How tragically predictable.”

THE “GIFT” IS A JOKE (OR IS IT?) – He might give you something truly cursed like a weirdly moving heart (that might still be beating) or a stuffed animal that stares into your soul. If you act disgusted, he just laughs. If you accept it? He tilts his head, genuinely intrigued. “Oh? Maybe you’re more interesting than I thought.”

A DATE THAT FEELS MORE LIKE A TEST – He doesn’t take you to dinner; he takes you somewhere eerie just to see how you react. Maybe a deserted alleyway, a ruined shrine, or a place filled with his grotesque transfigured humans. He watches you closely, trying to figure out what makes you squirm. “Are you scared yet?”

HIS VERSION OF A LOVE CONFESSION IS SO UNSETTLING – At some point, he leans in too close, grinning like a predator, and murmurs, “You fascinate me. I could break you… but I kind of like you just the way you are.” (What kind of compliment is that?!)

IF YOU KISS HIM, YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE – If you’re brave enough to kiss Mahito, he definitely shifts his face mid kiss just to mess with you. One second, it’s soft next second, it’s something monstrous. He pulls away, laughing. “Aww, was that too much for you?” (Yes. Yes, it was.)

Yuta (boyfie)

Yuta Okkotsu x Reader Valentine’s Day

NERVOUS BUT SO EARNEST – Yuta is so anxious about making Valentine’s Day perfect for you. He overthinks everything what to wear, what to say, if he should hold your hand more (as if you haven’t been dating for years). He wants to be smooth but ends up being adorably awkward instead.

PUTS SO MUCH THOUGHT INTO HIS GIFT – He doesn’t just buy a random present; he remembers things you’ve mentioned in passing and gets you something deeply personal. Maybe it’s a limited-edition book you wanted, a necklace with a charm that has meaning, or even something handmade. He gives it to you while blushing so hard and saying, “I-I hope you like it…” (As if you wouldn’t absolutely love it.)

DATE NIGHT IS SWEET AND INTIMATE – Yuta isn’t one for flashy dates. He prefers something calm and cozy like a quiet dinner at a small restaurant, a walk under the stars, or even just spending time together watching movies. As long as he’s with you, he’s happy.

HE CAN’T STOP STARING AT YOU – The entire date, he’s so mesmerized by you. You’ll catch him just watching you with the softest expression, and when you ask, he gets so flustered. “I—I just… you look really beautiful tonight.”

A HEARTFELT CONFESSION (EVEN AFTER YEARS TOGETHER) – At the end of the night, Yuta gets serious for a moment. He takes your hands, looks into your eyes, and murmurs, “Every year, I fall in love with you more. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I promise I’ll always cherish you.” (And just like that, your heart melts into a puddle.)

A SWEET, LOVING KISS TO END THE NIGHT – When he kisses you, it’s slow, tender, and so full of emotion like he’s pouring his entire heart into it. He holds you so gently like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him (because you are).

I M SORRY GUYS IF I FORGOT SOMEONE LOVEE UU SO MUCH

[nameless-jamie]

Hii, I know you're swamped with the requests but could you write about Jamie and PA babysitting together? Maybe Roy has something and cant watch Phoebe so they offer to take care of her? And they're both good with kids ams admire each other for it. And maybe Phoebe can totally tell and calls them out on their bullshit and their just stunned.

Thanks 🥺🥺

Babysittin' Legend

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting, Roy Kent

A/N: Hii thanks for the request I love it!

When Roy Kent asks you for a favor, you don’t say no. Not because he’s particularly threatening (okay, maybe a little), but because if he trusts you enough to ask, it means something.

Which is why, when he showed up at Y/N’s apartment that evening, standing in the doorway with his ever-serious expression and a very bored-looking Phoebe by his side, she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face.

Jamie Tartt, however, nearly spilled his tea at the sight of him.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate,” Jamie said, gripping his mug like he was preparing for battle. “Ever heard of a text first?”

Roy grunted. “Didn’t feel like textin’.” Then he turned back to Y/N. “I need you to watch Phoebe.”

Y/N blinked, glancing between him and his niece. “Uh, right now?”

“No, next fuckin’ Tuesday—yes, right now.”

Y/N hesitated, not because she didn’t want to, but because she had Jamie in her living room, legs propped up on her coffee table, looking far too comfortable. She had invited him over to go over his schedule for the week, and somehow, like usual and he had managed to stretch a thirty-minute conversation into an hour-long debate about whether or not he could justify skipping a training session for a “wellness day.”

Spoiler: he couldn’t.

She sighed. “Roy, I’d love to help, but—”

“Great,” Roy cut in, already shoving Phoebe forward like it was a done deal. “Be back in a few hours.”

Y/N barely had time to protest before he patted Phoebe on the head, muttered something about “Don’t let Jamie corrupt you”, and promptly left.

The door shut. Silence filled the apartment.

Jamie and Y/N turned slowly to Phoebe, who had already made herself comfortable on the couch, sipping from a juice box like she owned the place.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Well. That was abrupt. Freakin' grandpa just gave us a child.”

Y/N exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, welcome to my life.”

Jamie smirked. “What, babysittin’ little legends?”

Y/N threw him a look. “Babysitting you, mostly. No legends in sight.”

Phoebe snorted. “That tracks.”

Jamie’s mouth dropped open. “Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Phoebe shrugged, unbothered. “My uncle Roy says that you play like Ronaldo... If he had the stomach flu and both his legs tied together..”

"Ok, first of all your uncle Roy is a fuc—"

"Wow, wow, wow, let's not get ahead of ourselves, we're talking to a 12-year-old, Jamie." Y/N grinned.

Jamie shot her a look of pure betrayal. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” she said sweetly. “I’m just also on Phoebe’s.”

Jamie groaned, flopping back against the couch. “Great. There’s two of you now.”

Phoebe smirked like she had already won something.

Jamie sighed dramatically and flopped onto the couch next to her. “Fine, what we doin’ tonight, then?”

Phoebe hummed, considering. “Movies. Snacks. No bedtime.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Roy would murder us.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Not if he doesn’t find out.”

Jamie gasped, eyes wide with admiration. “I love the way you think.”

Y/N groaned. “Oh my god, there’s two of you.”

And so the evening went on and funny enough, as it turned out, Jamie was actually good with kids.

Like, weirdly good.

Y/N found herself watching him more than she cared to admit, taking note of the way he let Phoebe braid his hair while they watched a movie, never once complaining—even when she yanked a little too hard. When she asked for popcorn, Jamie got up without hesitation, returning with three different flavors because “Dunno what you like best, so I got all of ‘em.”

Phoebe beamed. “I like caramel the best.”

Jamie grinned. “Good choice. That’s my favorite, too.”

Y/N sat back, arms crossed, trying not to find it adorable.

Jamie caught her staring and smirked. “What? Starin’ at me ‘cause I’m good with kids?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “A little.”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Knew it. You totally would have me baby's right now.”

"Idiot..." Y/N just shook her head, turning back to the movie.

But she was impressed. Jamie had a way of making people feel special, like they were the most important person in the room. It was dangerous when directed at her, but with Phoebe? It was downright sweet.

And, annoyingly, it made her like him even more.

Halfway through the second movie, they were just watching the Spaghetti Kiss scene of Lady and the Tramp, Phoebe suddenly turned to them, frowning slightly, like she was deeply considering something.

Then, out of nowhere:

“So when are you two gonna kiss?”

Y/N choked on her drink.

Jamie actually paused the movie and turned to stare at Phoebe like she had just asked him to do calculus. “What?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Come on. I might be a kid, but I’m not stupid.”

Jamie cleared his throat, trying desperately to recover. “We—we’re just friends.”

At the same time Y/N said, "He's my boss!

Phoebe snorted. “No, you’re not.”

Jamie was still looking at her, slightly dazed. “You think—what?”

Phoebe gestured between them. “You like each other.”

Jamie blinked. Y/N froze.

“No, we—”

“Yes, you do,” Phoebe said, exasperated. “You look at each other all dreamy. Like Flynn Rider looks at Rapunzel.”

Jamie made a choking noise. “I do not.”

Phoebe gave him a flat look. “You let me braid your hair. You helped Y/N babysit me. I think you like her,.”

Jamie opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. Looked at Y/N, then back at Phoebe. “That—that’s just ‘cause I’m nice.”

Phoebe smirked. “You’re not that nice.”

Jamie looked personally offended.

Y/N, on the other hand, was just trying not to combust.

“Okay, how about bedtime,” she blurted out.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “It’s 8:30.”

“Exactly.” Y/N stood up, grabbing the remote. “Early bedtime for kids who stir up drama.”

Phoebe giggled but didn’t argue. “Fine. But I know what I saw.”

Jamie was still staring at the TV, looking utterly stunned.

Y/N nudged him with her elbow. “You alright there?”

Jamie blinked. Looked at her.

Then, finally, in a very quiet voice, he said:

“… Do I look at you all dreamy?”

Y/N grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face.

When Roy knocked on Y/N’s door again that evening, approximately 20 minutes after the Phoebe incident, Y/N opened it to find him standing there with his usual gruff expression, arms crossed. He glanced between her and Jamie, who was still lounging comfortably on her couch, flipping through his phone like he lived there.

“Phoebe behave?” Roy asked, tone neutral, but there was something almost amused in his eyes.

Y/N nodded, smiling. “Of course. She was an angel.”

“Yeah,” Jamie added, stretching. “No trouble at all. Except for when she decided to grill us instead of doin’ watchin' her damn movies.”

Roy’s brows lifted slightly. “Grill you?”

Y/N shot Jamie a quick look, but he was already grinning, clearly enjoying himself. “Yeah, mate. Little detective, your niece. Got some theories about me and Y/N.”

Roy exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Right. Figures. She's a smart fucking dweeb.”

Y/N crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Do I even want to know how much you knew about that in advance?”

Roy shrugged. “Kid’s perceptive. Was only a matter of time.” He jerked his head toward Jamie. “Surprised you lasted this long without crackin’ under pressure.”

Jamie scoffed. “Oi, I’m a professional, Roy.”

Roy gave him an unimpressed look. “Right.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping back to let Roy in. He didn’t stay long—just long enough to get the recap on Phoebe’s night, nodding approvingly at Y/N’s patience and Jamie’s unexpected ability to be good with kids.

“Appreciate it,” Roy said as he headed for the door. “You’re alright with her. Both of you.”

Jamie smirked. “High praise, that.”

Roy ignored him and turned to Y/N. “You ever need anything, you let me know.”

She nodded, touched by the offer. “Same to you.”

As Roy left, Jamie leaned back on the couch, watching her with an unreadable expression. “Look at you, impressin’ Roy Kent. I think that makes you an honorary badass.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing. “I’ll get a trophy made.”

Jamie grinned. “Just make sure it says, ‘Babysittin’ Legend.’”

"Ok, well time to go home now, Romeo, before you keep lookin' at me all dreamy again." Y/N said laughing her freaking ass off.

Jamie just rolled hie eyes and headed to the door. "Hate you..."

Yeah, right...

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I’m so intrigued by this one 🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀

And I’m always excited for more of this one

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Thank youuuu!

96 for 🔀:

---

He still looks pissed. For Buck, rather than at Buck. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Thirty minutes later, they’re eating at a nearby diner, and Buck has explained everything. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bobby huffs after he’s done. “They’re treating you like a suspect when someone out there is weaponizing the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

It’s not. Being kidnapped at four is not the worst thing that has ever happened to him. Buck’s not going to argue though.

“I’m not sure what their angle is,” Athena admits. “What more do they need? They have the perp in custody. Caught him red-handed.”

Buck shrugs. “Unless they really believe I’m some sort of imposter.”

“Didn’t you say the guy looks younger than you?” Bobby asks. 

“By a decade,” Buck confirms. “At least.”

“So that makes no sense,” Bobby says. 

“No,” Athena agrees. “It doesn’t.”

Buck sips his coffee, frustrated. He hates this. He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him. 

“Buck, you need to know,” Bobby says. His expression is serious, concerned. “We’re on your side here. Whatever happens, okay? We know… We know you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Buck takes a deep breath. He doesn’t take their faith in him for granted. There was a time in his life where he wouldn’t have had it. Where he wouldn’t have deserved it. He knows that.

“Thank you,” Buck says.

Athena nods. “Of course.”

“Uh, can I ask…” Buck frowns. “With Ingram… It seemed like he was trying to get me to confess something. I don’t know what.”

“Hmm,” Bobby replies, forehead creased with worry.

“Athena, uh, what’s his deal? What kind of cases does he even work?”

Athena frowns. “I wish I knew. I’ve never met the man before.”

“You haven’t?” Bobby asks.

“No,” she says. “He must be a new transfer or something. I’d never even heard of him.”

🟢

He goes to Maddie and Chim’s. 

He goes, knowing their appointment is long since finished, and knowing that, well, he should probably keep his sister up to date with his legal affairs. 

It doesn’t quite go that way. 

“We’re having a boy!” Maddie grins the moment they walk through the door. “A little boy! Isn’t that amazing?”

And, well? Yeah. It totally is. It’s the best news in the whole entire world. A boy. A nephew. Jee’s little brother. Buck is beyond thrilled. So thrilled that he can’t bring down the mood. He won’t. Maddie doesn’t need to hear about this right now. In fact, until Buck knows more about this strange petty criminal dragging up both of their childhood trauma, Maddie doesn’t need to hear anything at all. 

🟢

He calls Eddie. 

He calls Eddie, because Eddie is far away from all this. The things he knows don’t make it back to Maddie. Eddie is his best friend. He should also be kept up to date with Buck’s legal affairs. He’ll have something reasonable and encouraging to say. 

Of course, this doesn’t quite go that way, either. 

“Chris and I are coming back to Los Angeles,” Eddie says, instead of hello, when he answers Buck’s call. 

And Buck is so happy, so overjoyed, he forgets himself entirely. 

“What?” He breathes. “You-you are?”

“Yeah, we are.” 

He can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice.

“Oh my god,” Buck starts to tear up. “When?”

“A few weeks. Need to pack everything up. Do the school transfer. Won’t be long, though… Hey, are you actually crying right now? I can hear you crying?”

“Obviously I’m crying, Eddie!” 

---

96 for 🔼:

---

“She won’t be any trouble. She’s super chill.”

“Mmm, well,” Margaret says. “The more the merrier.”

All things considered, dinner doesn’t start terrible. Everyone is friendly. Everyone’s pretending it’s just been a few months since they’ve seen each other, rather than years and years. His parents are pretending they didn’t drop Maddie. That they don’t hate Buck. They put all their interest into Chimney, vetting him more or less. It’s all great. 

Except… His mother keeps interrogating him. About Jane. 

At some point, Jane is propped on Buck’s lap, and he’s spoon feeding her baby food, and Margaret just sort of stares at them. 

“Everything okay?” Buck asks her. 

“You’re very good with her,” his mother observes. “For the babysitter.”

Buck blinks. “Uh… Her parents and I are very close. I see her all the time.” 

“Her mother is Shannon,” Maddie says. “Remember, Mom? I mentioned her. She’s my closest friend out here.”

“Right,” Margaret nods. “And how old is Jane?”

“Ten months,” Buck says. “She’ll be one in December.”

“And you and Maddie are both friends with her mother?” Margaret asks.

Chim is looking at his plate. Like really avoiding eye contact. Fuck. 

“Her dad and I work together,” Buck says. 

“With Howard?” Phillip asks.

“Yep,” Chim squeaks, sweating. “I don’t know much about it.”

Buck sighs.

This is how they find out he’s seeing a married couple.

“About what?” Margaret asks.

“Nothing,” Buck says. “It’s really nothing.”

“I’m confused,” Phillip says.

“Me, too, if that helps,” Albert offers.

“Okay, Evan,” Margaret sighs. “Just be honest. Is she your child?”

Buck’s jaw drops. “What?” 

“Oh, it’s clear you’re lying, Evan!” She presses. “You show up here with some child you’re overly familiar with, who belongs to a friend. We know how you are. You got some girl pregnant out of wedlock and now you’re too ashamed to say it!”

“Hi,” Maddie waves at her. “Also pregnant out of wedlock. Nothing shameful here.”

“I’m not her father!” Buck protests. He looks at the baby. “I wouldn’t lie if I was. Right, Jane? I’m not your dad.”

Jane tilts her head back to look up at him.

“Da…Dada?”

Chimney coughs. Albert conceals a laugh. Maddie pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“My god, Evan,” his father chides. “Really?”

“No! No!” Buck protests. “Why would she say that? Maddie, why would she say that? Back me up!”

Oh, Eddie is going to be devastated. This is horrid. He’ll be so sad. Buck needs to, like, disappear. Spend less time with Jane. Ignore her maybe. It’ll break his heart, but it’s what needs to be done. For Eddie. 

“She’s really not his,” Maddie says.

“Dada,” Jane says again, clapping her hands together.

“No!” Buck insists. “No, Jane. Sweetie. I’m not your father.”

“No,” Jane says. 

[intrikatie]

Love you more... Seungmin

banner by the endlessly talented @skzdreamer13 [my chopstick]

♡ Pairing: Established relationship! Seungmin x GN Reader ♡ Genre: Fluff, Headcanon ♡ Warnings: none ♡ Wordcount: <500 ♡ a/n: trying to get the hang of short form.

You and Seungmin are at the arcade, playing an intense game of air hockey. The tension between you both is light-hearted, full of teasing and laughter as you narrowly win another round.

“I love you,” Seungmin says, his voice full of pride and a mischievous grin on his face.

You stick your tongue out playfully. “I love you more.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Do you now? Let’s see.”

“I’m the one who always keeps you grounded. When things get tough, I remind you to take it easy and have fun.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, smirking. “True, but I’m the one who pushes you to be better, even when you think you’ve reached your limit.”

You wink, pulling off another win. “I’m the one who knows exactly how to make you laugh when you’re stressed. You get so serious, but I know just how to lighten the mood.”

Seungmin crosses his arms, clearly not impressed with your antics. “Alright, alright. But I’m still the one who looks out for you, always making sure you’re okay even when you don’t ask for help.”

You giggle, poking him in the ribs. “And I’m the one who always finds a way to distract you from your work, making sure you don’t burn yourself out.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. Just like you’re distracting me now. That last shot was completely unfair.”

You smirk, tapping the side of your head knowingly. “I know how much you hate losing, Seungmin. So I’m surprised you’re not throwing a bigger fit.”

He stares at you for a second, and then, to your surprise, his lips curl into a grin. “Okay, okay, you win.”

“We still have another round?” you look at the scoreboard puzzled.

“Not that game,” he says, his cheeks going slightly pink.

You blink. Then laugh softly, unable to resist how cute he looks when he’s being so uncharacteristically humble. You lean in, kissing him quickly. “I love you so much, Seungie.”

♡ If you made it this far, thank you for your support! ♡ please consider leaving a comment, like or reblog ♡ ©2025Intrikatie ♡

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 5 - 11

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

----------

71:90 – TREVOR

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

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

Trevor squints at Honey.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna,” he pouts. 

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

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

“Yeah, I bet,” Honey laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She took the wine away,” Honey returns.

“You asked her to.”

“I didn’t think she’d do it!”

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

Honey groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor furrows his brow. “Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More than Jack?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Trevor asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor still doesn’t feel any better about that.

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

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

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

Honey looks over at him, drawing her eyebrows together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” Honey says. “I’ll be here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole is eerily silent. 

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

The silence stretches on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

72:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s… Trixie. Bea’s oldest sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds about right, Honey thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday?

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

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

YYES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You coerced him,” Bea accuses.

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

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

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

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey petulatntly.

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

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

73:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Monday is the 12th,” Honey replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

74:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not actively practicing,” Quinn points out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was five,” Bea says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

75:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone woke me up.” Trevor smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Honey parrots.

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor deflates at the nickname. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good man yourself,” Trevor laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This must be Thomas.

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

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

“Oh my God, Honey,” Thomas grimaces. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop looking at me,” Honey says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor nods. “I think he deserves that.”

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

To be determined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey snorts. “Be patient, Trev.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

76:90 – HONEY

Honey had told herself that the two cocktails at dinner would be her last drinks of the night. The boys have a kind of routine on their beach days– they pack as many drinks as the cooler can fit and they crush them. Honey, Bea, and Trixie had done their best to keep up, and it had resulted in quite a buzz.

There had been time to come down, too– Honey left the beach around 3:30 because she’d gotten sleepy. She’d showered and taken a nap, then woken up before dinner to see Bea napping in bed next to her. The guys had been in the same state when she went into the living room. Luke was the only one awake and he was watching golf on low volume, his eyes glazed over. Honey thinks he might be so zoned out that he’s dead to the world.

After dinner, though, everyone had been reinvigorated. The boys had cracked open new beers and Trixie had produced a box of seltzers from her minifridge in the garage. She and Bea are party girls, as is Cece, so it must be a McLean thing. They’d been adamant that the group played a few drinking games before winding down for the night. 

They’d played Flip Cup first– dividing into two teams of four and pounding drinks up and down the length of Trixie’s dining table. Bea and Trixie had captained the teams and drafted their picks because the boys thought it was most fair. Bea’s first pick was, unsurprisingly, Quinn. Trixie had picked Jack. At first, Honey had thought it was because of his frat-boy energy.

The more drunk everyone got, the more Honey noticed that Jack and Trixie were flirting. By the time they moved onto Stack Cup, Jack and Trixie were standing next to each other and Trixie was shrieking each time Jack nearly lapped her. When he finally did and she’d had to chug the Bitch Cup, Trixie had pulled Bea’s signature pout.

Honey was not surprised when they disappeared into Trixie’s bedroom, presumably, less than an hour later. Neither was anyone else, apparently. Cole had snorted and said that Bea and Jack were two peas in a pod, since they both collected siblings like it was nothing. Everyone laughed at that, then they’d split into smaller groups. Cole and Trevor started playing Ride The Bus with a stack of cards they found in Trixie’s junk drawer, Quinn and Luke had settled on the couch to watch TV, and Honey and Bea took a girl’s trip to the bathroom.

Bea finds a fresh thing of moisturizer while she’s digging through Trixie’s bathroom cabinet and goes to smell it, catching a strong whiff of eucalyptus. She gags, stomach lurching… and pushes Honey out of the way while she’s pulling up her sweatpants so that she can vomit into the toilet.

Typical. 

Honey braids Bea’s hair back messily while she yacks, then helps pat her face with a cold towel when she’s done. They decide to go to bed, even though Bea says that she’s fine. Honey thinks she needs to rest after throwing up the many, many drinks she had today, so she and Bea throw on their pajamas– a fun matching nightgown set that they always bring on their trips outside of Litchton– and cuddle up in bed. Honey is glad she made Bea brush her teeth before they left the bathroom, even if their faces aren’t close enough for her to smell Bea’s breath.

“You didn’t talk to Trevor,” Bea mumbles. She’s got her arm thrown over her face, eyes buried in the crook of her elbow. “You said you would today.”

Honey gets a flashback to the previous morning– how Bea had been aghast and furious that Thomas was in the same town as them, how she’d been elated that Honey had called Thomas out and been mean to him at the store, and how she’d pretended like it took all of her energy to praise Trevor for reacting the way he did. Honey knows that Bea likes Trevor deep down, even if she treats him like an annoying brother.

Honey groans, shifting under the covers. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You have to talk to him,” Bea replies. Her voice is monotone and tired. “You promised you would. You know how he gets when he’s worried.”

She’s right, unfortunately. It takes a lot out of Honey to sit up, especially with the last of the booze that is coursing through her veins. She feels a bit like an old man, grunting through a stretch, but she finally swings her legs over the side of the bed and begins to make her way to the door.

It bangs open before she reaches for the handle.

“Bea!” Jack exclaims, shouldering into the bedroom in nothing but his sweatpants and underwear– Honey can see the Nike lettering peeking out from under the gray waistband slung low on his hips. “New PR!”

Bea’s arm falls from her face and she squints at Jack with one eye. “What?” she asks groggily.

“I beat my time!” Jack catches Honey’s wrist as she passes him and raises her hand to give himself a high-five.

Honey fails to hold back a laugh, producing a stifled snort. Just as Jack jumps onto the bed and crosses his legs, getting comfortable, Honey slips away.

She walks as quietly as she can past Trixie’s room, finding her way to the end of the hallway and slipping through the glass door to the balcony. It’s there that she finds Trixie in her bathrobe, looking up at the stars and twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

“Hey,” Honey greets quietly. “I heard Jack broke his record.”

Trixie chuckles. “Yeah, he told me. I think it’s cute how excited he was.”

“How long was it?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know, twenty minutes, maybe? From the time we got naked to the time it was over?” Trixie shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. He’s definitely good looking enough to get away with that.”

“One night stand?”

Trixie nods. “Definitely, one night stand. I’m not looking to do anything more than hook up with a guy who’s five years younger than me.” She drops her hand and slaps her knees. “Do you need the balcony?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to Trevor about something,” Honey says. “Do you remember Thomas?”

Trixie makes a face. There’s Honey’s confirmation that Cece and Bea did have a tell-all with Trix when Honey and Thomas broke up. “Yeah, I remember that dipshit. He should’ve gone to jail for what he did to you.”

“We saw him at the store yesterday,” Honey tells her. “Me and Trev.”

“Shit.” Trixie’s eyes are wide. “Are you okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Honey replies with a bit of a laugh. “I was mad when I saw him. Even after we left, I wasn’t upset. It was just like, ‘Oh, here’s the bitch that changed my life. I hope I never see him again after this’ and then I was fine.” She shrugs. “Bea and I talked about it. I’m not happy with what he did, obviously, but I’m past it.”

Trixie smiles and stands, bringing Honey in for a hug. “I’m happy for you.” She squeezes Honey tight, then lets her go, palms on Honey’s elbows. “You are such an impressive and resilient person.”

Honey doesn’t know quite what to say to Trixie. She thinks that if she opens her mouth to talk, her voice will break. That was so nice.

Trixie pats Honey’s arm one last time and heads toward the sliding glass door. “Goodnight, Hon. Have a good talk with Trevor.”

“Do you like him?” Honey blurts out as Trixie steps through the door. “For me?”

Trixie turns back and nods. “I do.” She slides the door shut and disappears down the hallway.

Honey smiles to herself, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. She shakes it away, pulling her phone out and texting Trevor to meet her on the balcony. She hopes he’s awake.

He sends her a “!!!!” within seconds and Honey hears his feet padding down the hallway a minute later. 

“Hey,” Trevor whispers as he closes the door behind him. He crosses the balcony and wraps his arms around Honey’s waist. He buries his face in Honey’s neck and kisses her, biting lightly over her pulse point. “I hated not being able to touch you all day. Y’looked so good in your pretty bikini, baby.”

Honey sighs and relaxes into Trevor’s touch, breathing in the traces of his cologne. It’s mostly worn off by now, but if she closes her eyes, she can still take it in. Honey wraps her arms around Trevor’s neck and holds him close.

Trevor is the first to pull away. “You okay?” he asks. “You seem… pretty okay, all things considered.”

“I am, actually,” Honey murmurs, bringing her hand to Trevor’s hair and stroking the strands along his temple. She can feel Trevor’s gaze on her face, never straying. “I think I’m really moving on. Not just fake-moving on like I’ve been doing for the past couple years.”

A smile creeps over Trevor’s face. “That’s awesome, babe.”

“I think you’ve been helping,” Honey admits quietly. “More than I wanted you to in the first place.”

“Yeah, baby, you hated me,” Trevor teases. He nudges Honey’s nose with his, then kisses her. “You didn’t think I’d be any good to you this summer.”

“That’s not true,” Honey fights back, frowning. “I thought it would be nice to have people to hang out with.”

“Hmm, I bet you meant the other guys,” Trevor continues in the same tone. He brings his hands to Honey’s hips and walks her back as he kisses her, only stopping when he’s got her pressed up against the wall. He starts to kiss down her neck, bringing his hands to her bare thighs and pushing at the hem of her nightgown.

“I gave you one week before you went back home,” Honey says. She raises a leg and tries to wrap it over Trevor’s hip. She slips at first, but then Trevor grips the fat of her thigh and holds her leg in place. 

“Well, I’m still here,” Trevor replies. His right hand slips between Honey’s legs and traces her folds before shifting her underwear to the side and diving in. “And you know I’m not leaving.”

“But you are, though,” Honey chokes out. She’s reeling from the way he just shoved two of his fingers into her cunt.

Trevor hums. “Okay, physically,” he says. “But I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I fail to see how that’s a good thing,” Honey jokes, but she’s lost the fighting edge in her voice. It’s so obvious that Trevor is affecting her, considering the way her breath has grown weary and how she’s biting her lower lip.

Trevor laughs anyway. “I can show you,” he says. 

He kisses Honey, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes drift all the way shut and she fists the neckline of his t-shirt. He tastes like the drinks that he’s been consuming all day, but with an overt layer of minty toothpaste. His lips are soft and Honey likes how he smiles between kisses.

“Is that a good enough reason?” Trevor asks softly, trailing his lips down to Honey’s jaw and sucking softly. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but she can feel his tongue massaging her skin and his teeth scraping over the area when he’s done.

“No, I already knew you were good at that,” Honey says. She feels a little stuck in her head, waiting for Trevor to do more.

His thumb presses against her clit and starts to circle. “I guess I have to up my game.” Trevor fits his teeth around Honey’s collarbone and nibbles. “You want me to talk about how pretty you are, baby?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Honey cards her fingers through Trevor’s hair and sighs.

He snuffles out another laugh. “You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Trevor tells Honey. 

“Thing?”

Trevor actually chuckles. “Not thing. You know that’s just a saying.” He adopts a southern accent. “Prettiest ‘thang’ I’ve ever seen.”

“You are so goofy.”

Trevor twists his fingers inside of Honey and makes her choke on a breath. “Don’t be mean, Hon. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” Honey bites.

“Attention seeker.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

“If I was mean, I’d stop fingering you and head back inside.”

Honey rolls her eyes. She grinds down on Trevor’s fingers and pulls him up for another kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor continues, jumping back into the bit. He noses against Honey’s cheek. “Honestly, Honey, you steal my breath. It’s unreal. I think about how pretty you are all the time.”

“Jerking off?” Honey gasps out. Her stomach is starting to turn from the pleasure.

“Mm.” Trevor smiles against her neck. “Sometimes. You turn me on, baby, but your looks aren’t the only thing I like about you. I’m determined to stay around for other reasons, you know.”

Honey hums, prompting him to continue. She is a bit of a glutton for praise– but who isn’t? She likes when people like her. She likes when Trevor likes her.

“Like how loyal you are to your friends,” Trevor says. “I couldn’t handle Bea for as long as you have, but you know that.”

“You handle Jack,” Honey points out. “That’s the same.”

“Fair point,” Trevor surmises. “I’m so… taken with how you act, babe.”

“Trevor,” Honey warns. She’s getting closer to the edge. His fingers are dancing inside of her, unrelenting, and his words aren’t helping. She still wants him to talk more, though.

“Do you know how proud I am that you stood your ground with Thomas at the store?” Trevor murmurs, moving his hand from Honey’s thigh to thumb over her nipple. 

“Oh my God,” Honey moans out when he pokes the spongy spot inside of her. She jumps, then whimpers, pulling his face back up so that she can bit his neck.

“It was amazing,” Trevor praises. “You’re so brave. I love how fiery you were when you saw him and how well you’ve bounced back from it over the past day and a half.”

Honey’s hips jerk into his touch. Her mouth drops open and eyes roll back. She knocks her head against the wall, but the sting doesn’t actually hurt. She barely feels it. Honey snaps, her resolve crumbling as Trevor’s fingers thrust into her at what feels like lightning speed. Her hands clutch at Trevor’s bicep and the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving red crescent-moons behind. “I love you,” Honey whines. She’s praising Trevor and his unique ability to give her everything she’s craved in a partner, especially since Thomas destroyed her confidence the way he did. 

Trevor’s hips roll against Honey’s hip like they’re controlled by an external force. His fingers continue to fill her just right. He draws his lip into his mouth and his stunning, shining eyes lock in on her expression. “I love you,” he repeats, natural and easy like nothing else.

Flickers of recognition pass through his pupils. “Oh, fuck, I love you,” he repeats again, conscious and strangled and desperate and true.

Honey melts into his gasp, her chest heaving with a sob as her climax rearranges the atoms in her eyesight. Honey’s admission, which is slowly dawning on her, has taken all the tension from her body and sent it out into the universe like a flood.

Trevor’s trying to kiss her again.

Honey gulps and wiggles away from him.

Trevor doesn’t seem to notice how she’s inching towards the sliding door. His hands slip off of her hips for one second and Honey is gone.

That was not supposed to happen. The whole “I love you” thing was supposed to be a nonissue. That’s what she told herself when she thought it– and now that she’s said it… Honey’s head cannot stop racing with thoughts.

You know what? Maybe Trevor didn’t hear her.

Okay, that’s stupid. He replied. Twice. 

Maybe he didn’t realize it either.

No, that’s why he repeated it. 

This is terrible. This should’ve happened a year from now over some stupid, sentimental, and dry candlelit dinner that Trevor tried to cook in his California apartment. This should’ve happened while Honey was trying to stomach the food without being mean and make sure that the candles didn’t light the flowers on fire, and she would’ve distracted him by telling him that she loves him.

Honey hasn’t thought about this at all. It– ugh– it was a dream she had a few nights ago. It should be noted that she woke with a start, sitting up, and nearly had a heart attack when Trevor’s arm had tightened around her waist to keep her in place.

She bursts through her bedroom door, interrupting Jack and Bea’s conversation. Honey slams the door shut behind her and plasters herself to the cool wood. She can hold the door shut if Trevor tries to barge in.

Bea blinks at Honey. “You okay?”

“I told him I love him,” Honey announces. She fumbles for the doorhandle and turns the lock.

“I thought you were going to talk to him about Thomas,” Bea says incredulously.

“Yeah, I was, but then we started…” Honey tilts her head and makes a high-pitched humming noise in the back of her throat as an insinuation, then opens her mouth again. “And it just slipped out.”

“During?” Bea demands. “During?”

“Yes, during!” 

“I’m sorry,” Jack cuts in, sitting forward on the bed. “I’m lost. Who are we talking about?”

“Trevor!” Honey and Bea exclaim at the same time, both rounding on Jack in identical fashion. 

He flinches back and holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, sorry, I didn’t know.” It takes a moment, but their shared word registers. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re in love with Trevor?”

“What are you going to do?” Bea asks, waving a hand at Jack to silence him. 

“Hide out in here for the rest of the weekend, probably,” Honey answers. She might’ve reached a pitch that only dogs can hear, but Bea and Jack seem to be faring well enough.

“Okay, not to interrupt again, but you know Trevor’s been fucking random girls all summer, right?” Jack continues.

“Oh my God, no, he hasn’t,” Honey says. The jig is up now and she doesn’t have time for Jack’s well-meaning warnings and confused comments. She has bigger problems.

“Yes, he has,” Jack insists. “He’s on Raya, dude. We’ve been talking about it for weeks. He’s very open about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bea scoffs. She faces Jack and puts her hand on his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes. “Jack, I love you dearly–”

Honey groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Sorry, Hon, I didn’t mean to trigger you.” Bea raises half of a hand-heart for Honey. “But, J, Trevor and Honey have been fucking for months. The Raya hookups were a cover.”

“What?” Jack looks at Honey, mouth open in surprise. He turns back to Bea. “And you knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course I didn’t tell you, no one knows!”

“What about Quinn?” Jack asks.

Bea relents. “Okay, Quinn knows. But Luke and Cole don’t know, so you have to shut up about it.”

Jack’s face turns from offended to slack and pale. “Oh, I’m not good at keeping secrets,” he says. Honey knows that– he’s said it before.

“I’ll give you two hundred dollars to keep your mouth shut,” Bea bargains.

Jack purses his lips. “Well, now, that’s an interesting point,” he muses. 

“Hey, hi,” Honey urges, waving her hand at the duo on the bed. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

“Honey, I wouldn’t, like, call it a problem, necessarily?” Bea says, but she’s stammering a little when she says it.

Honey scoffs and widens her eyes, feeling like she’s going crazy. “You haven’t said it back to Quinn!”

“You haven’t said it back to Quinn?” Jack demands. He covers his face with his hands. “Oh my God, I should’ve just gone to bed after hooking up with Trixie. This is so much drama.”

“It’s not drama!” Bea exclaims. “Did Trevor say it back?”

“Yes!” Honey reveals, shrugging. She raises a hand and gestures into the air. “So what?”

“So what?” Bea repeats. “You have nothing to worry about. He said he loves you, you said you love him.”

“Other way around,” Honey corrects.

Bea stares at Honey for a beat, then starts to laugh. “Semantics! Dude, who cares? You’re in love! I bet he’s on the other side of the door, waiting for you to let him in so he can say it again.”

“I am, actually,” comes Trevor’s muffled voice. Honey feels one of his fingers poke her heel from the crack under the door. “Can you let me in?”

Honey resists the urge to stomp on his finger. She groans, tilting her head back and crumpling her face. She doesn’t want to face Trevor right now, for two reasons. One: she’s not over saying “I love you.” and two, it’s embarrassing. She ran away from him. She whines, slightly annoyed with herself, as she turns to the door and unlocks it. She turns the handle and Trevor crashes into the room in a similar manner as Honey did.

He kicks the door shut and brings his palms to Honey’s jaw, cradling her face in his hands. He kisses her hard. He stays there, then pulls away.

“Jack’s here,” Honey says.

“Hi, Z,” Jack supplies. 

“I don’t care,” Trevor tells Honey. He lays kiss after kiss against her lips. He speaks between pecks. “I love you.” Peck. “Don’t run away.” Peck. “You said what I was getting ready to say, baby.” Peck. “I’m so glad you feel the same. I love you.”

Honey hums against his lips. “I love you, too,” she mumbles quietly. “I just–”

“Let me enjoy this for a second,” Trevor says, stopping her short. “Fuck, you make me happy.”

Honey relaxes with a little whimper, feeling a little wounded by how lovely he is. He’s so nice to her, even as wishy-washy as she’s been. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, even if he’s physically leaving at the end of the summer, and Honey is the one who’s constantly changing things up on Trevor. Ugh, how annoying. 

Jack hoots from the bed, interrupting their moment. Bea, at least, had the decency to stay silent with a big grin on her face.

Trevor pulls away from Honey and glares at Jack. “Dude, get out.”

“You should be thanking me, bro,” Jack says as he stands from the bed. “I’m the one who told Honey that you like her in the first place.”

“Not to be like that, either,” Bea jumps in. “But this is technically my bedroom, and I’m a little sleepy, so I think you guys might have to wrap it up. You can consummate your love when we get back to Litchton, if that’s okay with you.”

“Well, it’s not okay with me.” Trevor rolls his eyes. His hands are still on Honey, but resting on her waist instead of cupping her cheeks. “This is kind of a big deal for us.”

“And I so get that, Trev,” Bea continues, inflecting her voice like Alexis from Schitt’s Creek. “But, also, I’m not leaving so you can have sex in the bed that I’m sleeping in after you’re done. That’s like, not…”

Honey dips her forehead and laughs. She pats Trevor’s chest and pushes him back towards the door. “It’s okay, Trev. It’s late.”

Trevor holds onto her hand and brings it to his lips, pouting. Jack catches Trevor’s shirt and tugs him towards the door.

Honey can barely contain a coy smile. “I love you,” she mouths as Jack drags him away. She brings a hand to her mouth and blows a kiss in his direction.

Trevor smiles as wide as Honey has ever seen and allows himself to be pulled from the room, barely catching the handle and closing the door behind him.

Bea jumps from the bed onto Honey’s back and screeches in her ear. She hugs Honey in a partial headlock, arms locked on Honey until she can’t breathe.

“Okay, get off of me,” Honey chokes out, slamming Bea into the mattress. 

“This is so exciting,” Bea squeals. She hits Honey’s shoulder with each word. “Honey! This is so wonderful!”

“Can we just go to bed?” Honey asks, feeling her skin crawl a bit. Yes, everything is fine on paper, but another shoe has got to be on the precipice of dropping. 

“Yes, but I’m cuddling you all night to celebrate,” Bea agrees. She grabs Honey’s shoulders and shakes her until Honey feels like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “Honey!”

“Shut up,” Honey groans. She buries herself under the covers, pulling the sheets over her head and disappearing into a lump.

“Are you so excited at least?” Bea aks, wrapping her arms around Honey’s middle and pressing her cheek into Honey’s back. 

Honey smiles into the pillow. “It’s exciting,” she admits.

Bea squeals again and squeezes Honey’s waist like a belt that’s too tight.

“Alright, that’s enough, stop it with the Heimlich,” Honey scolds, pinching Bea’s forearm. Her grip slackens after a moment. “You already threw up tonight, I don’t want to either.”

“Do you think you’re going to?”

Honey’s not sure. It is a little nauseating to have said what she said to Trevor, even if he received it well. She said it back again and she wants to keep saying it back, but it’s still weird. She’ll either throw up from being excited or from being so surprised that she told Trevor how she feels.

She buries her face in the pillow and screams.

77:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has been riding on a high since last night. He’d been hesitant to tell Honey how he felt, how he loved her, but after running into Thomas and seeing how she’d handled that so well, Trevor had thought that there was no better time than the present.

He’d been trying to build up to it. He was praising the girl and trying to fill her head with a bunch of pretty– and genuine– compliments so that she didn’t freak out when he uttered those three words.

She’d said it first. Honey had beat him to the punch by about one second, which surprised Trevor. Her statement hadn’t really computed in his brain until after he’d said his piece, which is when he’d felt so surprised that all he could do was repeat himself. 

It wasn’t surprising that Honey bolted after the fact. She’d been in an abject state of denial after calling Trevor her boyfriend by mistake the week prior, so it made sense that she was surprised and confused and frustrated with herself when she’d accidentally said “I love you.” Trevor knows Honey well enough to assume that she hadn’t meant to tell him that. He’d bet money on it.

It feels like a quick turnaround on paper, Trevor thinks. He’s never actually said “I love you” to anyone other than his family members and his closest friends, so he doesn’t know what the “right” time is. He’s known Honey for two and a half months now, but like she always says, mountain time passes differently. It feels more like he’s known her for five or six months. Quite frankly, Trevor has had feelings for Honey since he saw her outside of the grocery store on his first day in Litchton. He’s liked her since then and he can’t really pinpoint the moment that his admiration for Honey evolved into love, but it happened, and now they’re here. 

They’re one step closer to telling everyone, too. Jack knows, which isn’t ideal since everyone knows that the boy can’t keep a secret, but Trevor’s okay with that. Sure, he threatened Jack and made sure he wasn’t going to tell Cole or Luke, but he only did that to protect what Honey wants. She might be in love with Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for everyone to know.

Which is why Trevor is managing to contain himself during their last trip to the beach this morning. Bea is skipping church because she’s on vacation, so everyone is together under the ocean sun for the last time this summer. 

Honey looks practically edible in her red swimsuit. She reminds him of the classic Baywatch, the original series that Trevor would sometimes catch replays of when he was young. Yasmine Bleeth might’ve been Trevor’s first awakening, the one who made him realize that girls are pretty. Honey is yet another reminder and Trevor is having trouble keeping his eyes away from her.

She’s standing at the edge of the water with Cole. Occasionally, one of them will pick up a rock or a shell and skip it against the waves. One of Cole’s shells hits Luke, who is bobbing in the waves and tossing a football with Jack. Honey laughs with her whole body, bending at the waist.

“Eyes off, Trevor,” Bea murmurs, reaching out to slap at Trevor’s arm. 

She’s lying next to him on her towel, back bared to the sky. The tie behind her back is undone to prevent an uneven tan, but Trevor thinks she has bigger problems to worry about. Quinn’s head is resting on the small of her back and his arm is wrapped around her body, palm flat on her hip. Talk about an uneven tan, Trevor thinks.

“Why?” he questions. “It’s not like anyone up here doesn’t know about it.”

Bea groans. “Because you’re being obvious. I know that you’re in love, or whatever, but Luke and Cole don’t know anything.”

“She looks hot,” Trevor argues. “Maybe I’m just ogling her because she’s sexy. Cole and Luke can’t argue with that.”

“Do you really want Cole and Luke to ask you why you’re looking at Honey like that?” Bea points out. “You’ll have to tell them she’s hot and then they’ll look at Honey like she’s hot.”

“And they’d be right to think that,” Trixie adds in a disinterested voice. She’s preoccupied with the stack of papers in one hand and the legal pad balanced on her knee. She waves her hair out of her face and looks at Trevor, tilting her head down to that she can meet his eyes above the rims of her sunglasses. “You’re lucky that she decided to date you.”

“I know,” Trevor replies, feeling like he has to defend himself against the sisters. He doesn’t take advantage of being Honey’s boyfriend, nor does he take her for granted. He knows that their relationship is still pretty fragile and new, even if they love each other. 

Bea hums, squinting at him. She seems to decide to take his word for it, because she changes the subject. “I gave Jack $200 to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible,” Quinn mumbles. He picks his head up and turns to face the back of Bea’s head. “You don’t have to pay Jack to keep their secret.”

Bea shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’d rather pay him to stay silent than just have blind faith in him.”

Quinn snorts and kisses down Bea’s spine. “I think the world is lucky that you’re not in a position of power,” he comments. “If you’re so willing to resort to bribery.”

“What has Ada been teaching you at that store, Bea?” Trixie jumps in. “I hope you’re not bribing customers or your suppliers. I’d get so fired for bribing people.”

“We’re not allowed to bribe people either,” Quinn adds. “Although I bet Z would if he could. Anaheim sucks.”

“I would not,” Trevor refutes. He’s still fighting with the group and defending himself. They start laughing like it’s all some big joke, but his feathers are still ruffled. Trevor huffs and turns away from them, looking back at Honey and Cole. 

Cole has Honey thrown over his shoulder and he’s marching into the waves. She’s shrieking and Cole stumbles over the sandbar and sends them both tumbling into the waves. Honey surfaces with a sputter and pushes Cole into a wave, jumping onto him and holding him underwater. Luke and Jack get involved not long after.

The rest of the day passes far faster than Trevor would like. They eat cold cut sandwiches as a group for lunch. Jack gets far too sunburnt, despite Honey and Bea’s better efforts to convince him to wear sunscreen. He claimed he didn’t need it since he tans well, but his pink skin is proof that he doesn’t tan as well as he thinks he does.

In the afternoon, Trixie runs up to the house and gets a volleyball. They play beach volleyball without a net, instead drawing a line in the sand that marks the barriers of the game. They don’t keep track of who’s winning or who’s on what team. The game isn’t serious and there’s a boatload of cheating– Bea pushes Luke over while his head it turned towards the sky, despite being on the same team, and they all laugh about it. Jack puts Honey on his shoulders so she can block a hit from Trixie. The ball ends up hitting her straight in the chest and knocks the wind out of her. When they finally head up to the house in the early evening, Honey’s still got an imprint of the ball on her skin. She calls it her battle scar and compares it to the mark on Quinn’s cheek. Quinn tells Honey that hers will fade.

For dinner, they eat the burgers that Trevor had bought when they ran into Thomas. Trixie whips up a salad to go with the meal and they all eat at her dining room table.

After dinner, they pack and divide into cars. Honey, Bea, and Quinn take Quinn’s rental car back. Trevor, Jack, Luke, and Cole are relegated to the other car. They speed home, losing Quinn’s car within the second hour, once they pass Raleigh. Cole falls asleep halfway through the drive and doesn’t wake up until they get back to Litchton. 

One of Honey’s favorite songs starts to play from Trevor’s liked songs as they turn onto the main road. He closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest. Jack has the windows rolled down and the air smells clearer up here. 

Trevor can’t imagine driving down this mountain in two weeks, knowing that he won’t be back until next year.

[serenelystrange]

5. Laughing during sex. Buddie

Thank you for playing! Please enjoy this absolute silliness. Rated E.

Like a Horny Radioactive Spider

Eddie tries to hold still, he really does. Buck’s above him, still warm and pink from their shared shower, trailing heated kisses down his neck and across his chest, aiming lower with every moment. Eddie squirms beneath him again as Buck bites along his hip before nosing in between the legs he spreads, a big hand gripping each of Eddie’s thighs in place.

Eddie hisses as Buck swallows him down, hot and slick and so fucking good that Eddie can almost ignore the little problem he’s trying to hide. Buck throat constricts around the head of Eddie’s cock as the saliva pools and he swallows reflexively, and Eddie’s next hiss of discomfort turns into a broken moan that has Buck looking up at him with mischievous eyes. He just knows he’d be smirking if his mouth wasn’t currently otherwise occupied. With a look of determination, Buck presses forward until Eddie is as deep in his throat as possible, his chin bumping against Eddie’s balls as he curls his tongue around his cock like it’s made of candy.

“Shit,” Eddie flinches as Buck brushes against the sensitive skin of his balls, and curses to himself when Buck immediately stills.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Eddie says, reaching down to run his hand through Buck’s damp curls soothingly. “Sorry, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Buck flutters his eyes closed at that, breathing in oxygen and the scent of Eddie through his nose, humming appreciatively. Eddie twitches in his mouth, and Buck does it again, longer this time. Eddie thinks he must be humming some pop song, but the tune escapes him at the moment.

“So good,” Eddie whimpers, gripping Buck’s hair with one hand and just holding on, his other moving to claw at Buck’s shoulder with blunt nails.

With a happy sigh, Buck goes lax at the praise, leaning his head against Eddie’s thigh the way he has a hundred times before. Unfortunately, the movement brushes his scruffy beard against Eddie’s balls again, and this time he can’t hide the bodily flinch, or pass the hiss off as a moan.

Buck blinks his eyes open with concern, pulling off of Eddie carefully and sitting up into a kneeling position between Eddie’s legs. He looks wrecked already, chest red and heaving and lips swollen and slick with spit and cum, and Eddie has never hated his own body’s stupid sensitivity more.

“What’s wrong?” Buck rasps, trailing his hands soothingly up and down Eddie’s thighs.

“Nothing,” Eddie tries, determined to power through until they both get off. “Getting tired already?” he asks in a teasing tone that Buck sees right through.

“You flinched,” Buck says, raising that sarcastic and unfortunately sexy eyebrow of his. “Are you hiding an injury? We promised we wouldn’t do that anymore.”

He scans Eddie with his eyes, trying to locate any new marks or bruises, and frowns in confusion when he finds nothing.

Eddie sighs, giving in, and reaches out a hand to Buck to help him sit up. He feels more than a little ridiculous sitting criss-cross-applesauce with a raging erection, but it still feels less vulnerable than lying down.

“I’m not hurt,” Eddie assures him. “I’m just…ticklish.”

Buck furrows his brow, confused. “Since when?” he asks. “We do this like all the time.”

Eddie blushes, embarrassed, but meets Buck’s eyes anyway.

“Not after a week off from work,” he explains, reaching out to cup Buck’s fuzzy face with one hand. “You’ve never grown your beard out this long with me.”

‘Oh,” Buck says, clearly relieved that it’s nothing serious. “Is that it?”

“That’s it,” Eddie admits. “Sorry,” he adds belatedly.

Buck rolls his eyes good-naturedly, playing with Eddie’s hand that’s still held between both of his own.

“Don’t apologize for being ticklish, you weirdo,” he laughs playfully. “You could have just told me. I would’ve shaved.”

Eddie mumbles in response, ducking his head just enough that Buck can’t catch what he says.

“What was that?” Buck asks, leaning down to rub his scruffy face against Eddie cheek. “You weren’t complaining when I was kissing you, you know.”

“It doesn’t tickle until like here,” Eddie huffs, running his free hand across his collarbone in demonstration.

“Noted,” Buck says, smirking slightly. “So if I just…” he trails, pushing Eddie’s chest until he lies back down and untangles his legs so that Buck can slot between them. “Rub you here, you’ll…”

Eddie dissolves into giggles as Buck’s scruffy beard trails along his chest, uncontrolled and squeaky as Buck drags his cheek down Eddie’s belly.

“Buck,” Eddie whines as his stomach starts to clench painfully, “it’s too much.”

“Sorry,” Buck whispers, pressing a kiss right below Eddie’s bellybutton before pulling away again. “I’ll shave tomorrow.”

Eddie groans before he can help himself, and laughs again as Buck gives him an incredulous look.

“What is your damage, man?” Buck laughs. “You just told me the beard was a problem!”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees sadly. “But also, you look so fucking hot with it.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, grinning with satisfied delight.

“My dick and I are at war,” Eddie says with a straight face, his amusement only betrayed by the slight twitching of his lips.

Buck laughs again, shaking his head as he flops down next to Eddie and lies on his side, pressing up against the entire length of him.

“Can’t have the beard at work anyway,” Buck says, before wrapping a hand around Eddie’s flagging cock and jerking him slow and snug back to full attention. “Guess we’ll go old school until then.”

“Mmm,” Eddie agrees, arching up into the hold, moaning as Buck takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into his throat, his beard rubbing just right under Eddie’s jaw.

“I do love the classics,” Eddie laughs when Buck releases his throat and laves over the mark he’s left.

“I have seen your CD collection,” Buck snorts, teasing him even as he moves his fist faster. “Old man.”

“You’re literally older than me,” Eddie argues, words trailing off into a moan as Buck rolls his palm over the head of his cock and pushes against his frenulum.  

“Only according to the linear passage of time,” Buck teases, leaning in for a sweet kiss that contrasts filthily with the slick sounds of his movements.

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie laughs, coming all over Buck’s hand and his own chest.

“Yeah, well, you chose this idiot,” Buck snarks back, dragging his hand through the mess on Eddie’s chest before taking himself in hand.

“Best decision of my life,” Eddie says, dick twitching as he watches Buck jerk himself off roughly with his come. “I was gonna suck you off, you know.”

“Couldn’t wait,” Buck says, hissing in pleasure-pain as he approaches oversensitivity but refusing to stop. “And you’re such a pretty canvas.”

“Paint me up,” Eddie teases, laughing at the corny words even as Buck moans and does just that, soaking Eddie’s chest hair with his release.

“Fuck, Eds,” Buck breathes out, melting into the bed and resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “How is it always so good?”

Eddie hums thoughtfully, determined to enjoy having Buck wrapped up in his arms for as long as he can manage before needing to get cleaned up.

“Maybe we both got bit by a really horny radioactive spider,” he muses. “We should probably do a blood test or something.”

“You think there’s Spider-Man porn out there?” Buck asks, rolling with it.

“Probably,” Eddie laughs. “Oh, maybe our star charts align just right or something. Cosmic matchmakers.”

“You don’t believe in all that,” Buck laughs. “I know you gave Ravi all the wrong information on purpose, by the way. I gave him your real stuff.”

“Ruin my fun, why don’t you,” Eddie huffs. “Brat.”

“Yup,” Buck says, beaming without even an ounce of regret.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, before pressing a kiss to Buck’s forehead. “Or maybe it’s so good just because it’s us.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Buck says. “Horny radioactive spider is much cooler.”

“True,” Eddie allows. “But I like it the best.”

Buck hums in agreement, curling himself even further around Eddie, tangling their legs together and breathing the mixed scent of them in.

“Me, too.”

The End