#and once again they very much wish that i would just stop being a boy

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 5 - 11

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

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71:90 – TREVOR

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

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

Trevor squints at Honey.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna,” he pouts. 

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

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

“Yeah, I bet,” Honey laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She took the wine away,” Honey returns.

“You asked her to.”

“I didn’t think she’d do it!”

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

Honey groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor furrows his brow. “Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More than Jack?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Trevor asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor still doesn’t feel any better about that.

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

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

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

Honey looks over at him, drawing her eyebrows together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” Honey says. “I’ll be here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole is eerily silent. 

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

The silence stretches on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

72:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s… Trixie. Bea’s oldest sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds about right, Honey thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday?

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

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

YYES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You coerced him,” Bea accuses.

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

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

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

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey petulatntly.

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

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

73:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Monday is the 12th,” Honey replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

74:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not actively practicing,” Quinn points out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was five,” Bea says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

75:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone woke me up.” Trevor smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Honey parrots.

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor deflates at the nickname. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good man yourself,” Trevor laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This must be Thomas.

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

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

“Oh my God, Honey,” Thomas grimaces. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop looking at me,” Honey says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor nods. “I think he deserves that.”

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

To be determined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey snorts. “Be patient, Trev.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

76:90 – HONEY

Honey had told herself that the two cocktails at dinner would be her last drinks of the night. The boys have a kind of routine on their beach days– they pack as many drinks as the cooler can fit and they crush them. Honey, Bea, and Trixie had done their best to keep up, and it had resulted in quite a buzz.

There had been time to come down, too– Honey left the beach around 3:30 because she’d gotten sleepy. She’d showered and taken a nap, then woken up before dinner to see Bea napping in bed next to her. The guys had been in the same state when she went into the living room. Luke was the only one awake and he was watching golf on low volume, his eyes glazed over. Honey thinks he might be so zoned out that he’s dead to the world.

After dinner, though, everyone had been reinvigorated. The boys had cracked open new beers and Trixie had produced a box of seltzers from her minifridge in the garage. She and Bea are party girls, as is Cece, so it must be a McLean thing. They’d been adamant that the group played a few drinking games before winding down for the night. 

They’d played Flip Cup first– dividing into two teams of four and pounding drinks up and down the length of Trixie’s dining table. Bea and Trixie had captained the teams and drafted their picks because the boys thought it was most fair. Bea’s first pick was, unsurprisingly, Quinn. Trixie had picked Jack. At first, Honey had thought it was because of his frat-boy energy.

The more drunk everyone got, the more Honey noticed that Jack and Trixie were flirting. By the time they moved onto Stack Cup, Jack and Trixie were standing next to each other and Trixie was shrieking each time Jack nearly lapped her. When he finally did and she’d had to chug the Bitch Cup, Trixie had pulled Bea’s signature pout.

Honey was not surprised when they disappeared into Trixie’s bedroom, presumably, less than an hour later. Neither was anyone else, apparently. Cole had snorted and said that Bea and Jack were two peas in a pod, since they both collected siblings like it was nothing. Everyone laughed at that, then they’d split into smaller groups. Cole and Trevor started playing Ride The Bus with a stack of cards they found in Trixie’s junk drawer, Quinn and Luke had settled on the couch to watch TV, and Honey and Bea took a girl’s trip to the bathroom.

Bea finds a fresh thing of moisturizer while she’s digging through Trixie’s bathroom cabinet and goes to smell it, catching a strong whiff of eucalyptus. She gags, stomach lurching… and pushes Honey out of the way while she’s pulling up her sweatpants so that she can vomit into the toilet.

Typical. 

Honey braids Bea’s hair back messily while she yacks, then helps pat her face with a cold towel when she’s done. They decide to go to bed, even though Bea says that she’s fine. Honey thinks she needs to rest after throwing up the many, many drinks she had today, so she and Bea throw on their pajamas– a fun matching nightgown set that they always bring on their trips outside of Litchton– and cuddle up in bed. Honey is glad she made Bea brush her teeth before they left the bathroom, even if their faces aren’t close enough for her to smell Bea’s breath.

“You didn’t talk to Trevor,” Bea mumbles. She’s got her arm thrown over her face, eyes buried in the crook of her elbow. “You said you would today.”

Honey gets a flashback to the previous morning– how Bea had been aghast and furious that Thomas was in the same town as them, how she’d been elated that Honey had called Thomas out and been mean to him at the store, and how she’d pretended like it took all of her energy to praise Trevor for reacting the way he did. Honey knows that Bea likes Trevor deep down, even if she treats him like an annoying brother.

Honey groans, shifting under the covers. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You have to talk to him,” Bea replies. Her voice is monotone and tired. “You promised you would. You know how he gets when he’s worried.”

She’s right, unfortunately. It takes a lot out of Honey to sit up, especially with the last of the booze that is coursing through her veins. She feels a bit like an old man, grunting through a stretch, but she finally swings her legs over the side of the bed and begins to make her way to the door.

It bangs open before she reaches for the handle.

“Bea!” Jack exclaims, shouldering into the bedroom in nothing but his sweatpants and underwear– Honey can see the Nike lettering peeking out from under the gray waistband slung low on his hips. “New PR!”

Bea’s arm falls from her face and she squints at Jack with one eye. “What?” she asks groggily.

“I beat my time!” Jack catches Honey’s wrist as she passes him and raises her hand to give himself a high-five.

Honey fails to hold back a laugh, producing a stifled snort. Just as Jack jumps onto the bed and crosses his legs, getting comfortable, Honey slips away.

She walks as quietly as she can past Trixie’s room, finding her way to the end of the hallway and slipping through the glass door to the balcony. It’s there that she finds Trixie in her bathrobe, looking up at the stars and twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

“Hey,” Honey greets quietly. “I heard Jack broke his record.”

Trixie chuckles. “Yeah, he told me. I think it’s cute how excited he was.”

“How long was it?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know, twenty minutes, maybe? From the time we got naked to the time it was over?” Trixie shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. He’s definitely good looking enough to get away with that.”

“One night stand?”

Trixie nods. “Definitely, one night stand. I’m not looking to do anything more than hook up with a guy who’s five years younger than me.” She drops her hand and slaps her knees. “Do you need the balcony?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to Trevor about something,” Honey says. “Do you remember Thomas?”

Trixie makes a face. There’s Honey’s confirmation that Cece and Bea did have a tell-all with Trix when Honey and Thomas broke up. “Yeah, I remember that dipshit. He should’ve gone to jail for what he did to you.”

“We saw him at the store yesterday,” Honey tells her. “Me and Trev.”

“Shit.” Trixie’s eyes are wide. “Are you okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Honey replies with a bit of a laugh. “I was mad when I saw him. Even after we left, I wasn’t upset. It was just like, ‘Oh, here’s the bitch that changed my life. I hope I never see him again after this’ and then I was fine.” She shrugs. “Bea and I talked about it. I’m not happy with what he did, obviously, but I’m past it.”

Trixie smiles and stands, bringing Honey in for a hug. “I’m happy for you.” She squeezes Honey tight, then lets her go, palms on Honey’s elbows. “You are such an impressive and resilient person.”

Honey doesn’t know quite what to say to Trixie. She thinks that if she opens her mouth to talk, her voice will break. That was so nice.

Trixie pats Honey’s arm one last time and heads toward the sliding glass door. “Goodnight, Hon. Have a good talk with Trevor.”

“Do you like him?” Honey blurts out as Trixie steps through the door. “For me?”

Trixie turns back and nods. “I do.” She slides the door shut and disappears down the hallway.

Honey smiles to herself, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. She shakes it away, pulling her phone out and texting Trevor to meet her on the balcony. She hopes he’s awake.

He sends her a “!!!!” within seconds and Honey hears his feet padding down the hallway a minute later. 

“Hey,” Trevor whispers as he closes the door behind him. He crosses the balcony and wraps his arms around Honey’s waist. He buries his face in Honey’s neck and kisses her, biting lightly over her pulse point. “I hated not being able to touch you all day. Y’looked so good in your pretty bikini, baby.”

Honey sighs and relaxes into Trevor’s touch, breathing in the traces of his cologne. It’s mostly worn off by now, but if she closes her eyes, she can still take it in. Honey wraps her arms around Trevor’s neck and holds him close.

Trevor is the first to pull away. “You okay?” he asks. “You seem… pretty okay, all things considered.”

“I am, actually,” Honey murmurs, bringing her hand to Trevor’s hair and stroking the strands along his temple. She can feel Trevor’s gaze on her face, never straying. “I think I’m really moving on. Not just fake-moving on like I’ve been doing for the past couple years.”

A smile creeps over Trevor’s face. “That’s awesome, babe.”

“I think you’ve been helping,” Honey admits quietly. “More than I wanted you to in the first place.”

“Yeah, baby, you hated me,” Trevor teases. He nudges Honey’s nose with his, then kisses her. “You didn’t think I’d be any good to you this summer.”

“That’s not true,” Honey fights back, frowning. “I thought it would be nice to have people to hang out with.”

“Hmm, I bet you meant the other guys,” Trevor continues in the same tone. He brings his hands to Honey’s hips and walks her back as he kisses her, only stopping when he’s got her pressed up against the wall. He starts to kiss down her neck, bringing his hands to her bare thighs and pushing at the hem of her nightgown.

“I gave you one week before you went back home,” Honey says. She raises a leg and tries to wrap it over Trevor’s hip. She slips at first, but then Trevor grips the fat of her thigh and holds her leg in place. 

“Well, I’m still here,” Trevor replies. His right hand slips between Honey’s legs and traces her folds before shifting her underwear to the side and diving in. “And you know I’m not leaving.”

“But you are, though,” Honey chokes out. She’s reeling from the way he just shoved two of his fingers into her cunt.

Trevor hums. “Okay, physically,” he says. “But I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I fail to see how that’s a good thing,” Honey jokes, but she’s lost the fighting edge in her voice. It’s so obvious that Trevor is affecting her, considering the way her breath has grown weary and how she’s biting her lower lip.

Trevor laughs anyway. “I can show you,” he says. 

He kisses Honey, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes drift all the way shut and she fists the neckline of his t-shirt. He tastes like the drinks that he’s been consuming all day, but with an overt layer of minty toothpaste. His lips are soft and Honey likes how he smiles between kisses.

“Is that a good enough reason?” Trevor asks softly, trailing his lips down to Honey’s jaw and sucking softly. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but she can feel his tongue massaging her skin and his teeth scraping over the area when he’s done.

“No, I already knew you were good at that,” Honey says. She feels a little stuck in her head, waiting for Trevor to do more.

His thumb presses against her clit and starts to circle. “I guess I have to up my game.” Trevor fits his teeth around Honey’s collarbone and nibbles. “You want me to talk about how pretty you are, baby?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Honey cards her fingers through Trevor’s hair and sighs.

He snuffles out another laugh. “You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Trevor tells Honey. 

“Thing?”

Trevor actually chuckles. “Not thing. You know that’s just a saying.” He adopts a southern accent. “Prettiest ‘thang’ I’ve ever seen.”

“You are so goofy.”

Trevor twists his fingers inside of Honey and makes her choke on a breath. “Don’t be mean, Hon. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” Honey bites.

“Attention seeker.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

“If I was mean, I’d stop fingering you and head back inside.”

Honey rolls her eyes. She grinds down on Trevor’s fingers and pulls him up for another kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor continues, jumping back into the bit. He noses against Honey’s cheek. “Honestly, Honey, you steal my breath. It’s unreal. I think about how pretty you are all the time.”

“Jerking off?” Honey gasps out. Her stomach is starting to turn from the pleasure.

“Mm.” Trevor smiles against her neck. “Sometimes. You turn me on, baby, but your looks aren’t the only thing I like about you. I’m determined to stay around for other reasons, you know.”

Honey hums, prompting him to continue. She is a bit of a glutton for praise– but who isn’t? She likes when people like her. She likes when Trevor likes her.

“Like how loyal you are to your friends,” Trevor says. “I couldn’t handle Bea for as long as you have, but you know that.”

“You handle Jack,” Honey points out. “That’s the same.”

“Fair point,” Trevor surmises. “I’m so… taken with how you act, babe.”

“Trevor,” Honey warns. She’s getting closer to the edge. His fingers are dancing inside of her, unrelenting, and his words aren’t helping. She still wants him to talk more, though.

“Do you know how proud I am that you stood your ground with Thomas at the store?” Trevor murmurs, moving his hand from Honey’s thigh to thumb over her nipple. 

“Oh my God,” Honey moans out when he pokes the spongy spot inside of her. She jumps, then whimpers, pulling his face back up so that she can bit his neck.

“It was amazing,” Trevor praises. “You’re so brave. I love how fiery you were when you saw him and how well you’ve bounced back from it over the past day and a half.”

Honey’s hips jerk into his touch. Her mouth drops open and eyes roll back. She knocks her head against the wall, but the sting doesn’t actually hurt. She barely feels it. Honey snaps, her resolve crumbling as Trevor’s fingers thrust into her at what feels like lightning speed. Her hands clutch at Trevor’s bicep and the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving red crescent-moons behind. “I love you,” Honey whines. She’s praising Trevor and his unique ability to give her everything she’s craved in a partner, especially since Thomas destroyed her confidence the way he did. 

Trevor’s hips roll against Honey’s hip like they’re controlled by an external force. His fingers continue to fill her just right. He draws his lip into his mouth and his stunning, shining eyes lock in on her expression. “I love you,” he repeats, natural and easy like nothing else.

Flickers of recognition pass through his pupils. “Oh, fuck, I love you,” he repeats again, conscious and strangled and desperate and true.

Honey melts into his gasp, her chest heaving with a sob as her climax rearranges the atoms in her eyesight. Honey’s admission, which is slowly dawning on her, has taken all the tension from her body and sent it out into the universe like a flood.

Trevor’s trying to kiss her again.

Honey gulps and wiggles away from him.

Trevor doesn’t seem to notice how she’s inching towards the sliding door. His hands slip off of her hips for one second and Honey is gone.

That was not supposed to happen. The whole “I love you” thing was supposed to be a nonissue. That’s what she told herself when she thought it– and now that she’s said it… Honey’s head cannot stop racing with thoughts.

You know what? Maybe Trevor didn’t hear her.

Okay, that’s stupid. He replied. Twice. 

Maybe he didn’t realize it either.

No, that’s why he repeated it. 

This is terrible. This should’ve happened a year from now over some stupid, sentimental, and dry candlelit dinner that Trevor tried to cook in his California apartment. This should’ve happened while Honey was trying to stomach the food without being mean and make sure that the candles didn’t light the flowers on fire, and she would’ve distracted him by telling him that she loves him.

Honey hasn’t thought about this at all. It– ugh– it was a dream she had a few nights ago. It should be noted that she woke with a start, sitting up, and nearly had a heart attack when Trevor’s arm had tightened around her waist to keep her in place.

She bursts through her bedroom door, interrupting Jack and Bea’s conversation. Honey slams the door shut behind her and plasters herself to the cool wood. She can hold the door shut if Trevor tries to barge in.

Bea blinks at Honey. “You okay?”

“I told him I love him,” Honey announces. She fumbles for the doorhandle and turns the lock.

“I thought you were going to talk to him about Thomas,” Bea says incredulously.

“Yeah, I was, but then we started…” Honey tilts her head and makes a high-pitched humming noise in the back of her throat as an insinuation, then opens her mouth again. “And it just slipped out.”

“During?” Bea demands. “During?”

“Yes, during!” 

“I’m sorry,” Jack cuts in, sitting forward on the bed. “I’m lost. Who are we talking about?”

“Trevor!” Honey and Bea exclaim at the same time, both rounding on Jack in identical fashion. 

He flinches back and holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, sorry, I didn’t know.” It takes a moment, but their shared word registers. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re in love with Trevor?”

“What are you going to do?” Bea asks, waving a hand at Jack to silence him. 

“Hide out in here for the rest of the weekend, probably,” Honey answers. She might’ve reached a pitch that only dogs can hear, but Bea and Jack seem to be faring well enough.

“Okay, not to interrupt again, but you know Trevor’s been fucking random girls all summer, right?” Jack continues.

“Oh my God, no, he hasn’t,” Honey says. The jig is up now and she doesn’t have time for Jack’s well-meaning warnings and confused comments. She has bigger problems.

“Yes, he has,” Jack insists. “He’s on Raya, dude. We’ve been talking about it for weeks. He’s very open about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bea scoffs. She faces Jack and puts her hand on his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes. “Jack, I love you dearly–”

Honey groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Sorry, Hon, I didn’t mean to trigger you.” Bea raises half of a hand-heart for Honey. “But, J, Trevor and Honey have been fucking for months. The Raya hookups were a cover.”

“What?” Jack looks at Honey, mouth open in surprise. He turns back to Bea. “And you knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course I didn’t tell you, no one knows!”

“What about Quinn?” Jack asks.

Bea relents. “Okay, Quinn knows. But Luke and Cole don’t know, so you have to shut up about it.”

Jack’s face turns from offended to slack and pale. “Oh, I’m not good at keeping secrets,” he says. Honey knows that– he’s said it before.

“I’ll give you two hundred dollars to keep your mouth shut,” Bea bargains.

Jack purses his lips. “Well, now, that’s an interesting point,” he muses. 

“Hey, hi,” Honey urges, waving her hand at the duo on the bed. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

“Honey, I wouldn’t, like, call it a problem, necessarily?” Bea says, but she’s stammering a little when she says it.

Honey scoffs and widens her eyes, feeling like she’s going crazy. “You haven’t said it back to Quinn!”

“You haven’t said it back to Quinn?” Jack demands. He covers his face with his hands. “Oh my God, I should’ve just gone to bed after hooking up with Trixie. This is so much drama.”

“It’s not drama!” Bea exclaims. “Did Trevor say it back?”

“Yes!” Honey reveals, shrugging. She raises a hand and gestures into the air. “So what?”

“So what?” Bea repeats. “You have nothing to worry about. He said he loves you, you said you love him.”

“Other way around,” Honey corrects.

Bea stares at Honey for a beat, then starts to laugh. “Semantics! Dude, who cares? You’re in love! I bet he’s on the other side of the door, waiting for you to let him in so he can say it again.”

“I am, actually,” comes Trevor’s muffled voice. Honey feels one of his fingers poke her heel from the crack under the door. “Can you let me in?”

Honey resists the urge to stomp on his finger. She groans, tilting her head back and crumpling her face. She doesn’t want to face Trevor right now, for two reasons. One: she’s not over saying “I love you.” and two, it’s embarrassing. She ran away from him. She whines, slightly annoyed with herself, as she turns to the door and unlocks it. She turns the handle and Trevor crashes into the room in a similar manner as Honey did.

He kicks the door shut and brings his palms to Honey’s jaw, cradling her face in his hands. He kisses her hard. He stays there, then pulls away.

“Jack’s here,” Honey says.

“Hi, Z,” Jack supplies. 

“I don’t care,” Trevor tells Honey. He lays kiss after kiss against her lips. He speaks between pecks. “I love you.” Peck. “Don’t run away.” Peck. “You said what I was getting ready to say, baby.” Peck. “I’m so glad you feel the same. I love you.”

Honey hums against his lips. “I love you, too,” she mumbles quietly. “I just–”

“Let me enjoy this for a second,” Trevor says, stopping her short. “Fuck, you make me happy.”

Honey relaxes with a little whimper, feeling a little wounded by how lovely he is. He’s so nice to her, even as wishy-washy as she’s been. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, even if he’s physically leaving at the end of the summer, and Honey is the one who’s constantly changing things up on Trevor. Ugh, how annoying. 

Jack hoots from the bed, interrupting their moment. Bea, at least, had the decency to stay silent with a big grin on her face.

Trevor pulls away from Honey and glares at Jack. “Dude, get out.”

“You should be thanking me, bro,” Jack says as he stands from the bed. “I’m the one who told Honey that you like her in the first place.”

“Not to be like that, either,” Bea jumps in. “But this is technically my bedroom, and I’m a little sleepy, so I think you guys might have to wrap it up. You can consummate your love when we get back to Litchton, if that’s okay with you.”

“Well, it’s not okay with me.” Trevor rolls his eyes. His hands are still on Honey, but resting on her waist instead of cupping her cheeks. “This is kind of a big deal for us.”

“And I so get that, Trev,” Bea continues, inflecting her voice like Alexis from Schitt’s Creek. “But, also, I’m not leaving so you can have sex in the bed that I’m sleeping in after you’re done. That’s like, not…”

Honey dips her forehead and laughs. She pats Trevor’s chest and pushes him back towards the door. “It’s okay, Trev. It’s late.”

Trevor holds onto her hand and brings it to his lips, pouting. Jack catches Trevor’s shirt and tugs him towards the door.

Honey can barely contain a coy smile. “I love you,” she mouths as Jack drags him away. She brings a hand to her mouth and blows a kiss in his direction.

Trevor smiles as wide as Honey has ever seen and allows himself to be pulled from the room, barely catching the handle and closing the door behind him.

Bea jumps from the bed onto Honey’s back and screeches in her ear. She hugs Honey in a partial headlock, arms locked on Honey until she can’t breathe.

“Okay, get off of me,” Honey chokes out, slamming Bea into the mattress. 

“This is so exciting,” Bea squeals. She hits Honey’s shoulder with each word. “Honey! This is so wonderful!”

“Can we just go to bed?” Honey asks, feeling her skin crawl a bit. Yes, everything is fine on paper, but another shoe has got to be on the precipice of dropping. 

“Yes, but I’m cuddling you all night to celebrate,” Bea agrees. She grabs Honey’s shoulders and shakes her until Honey feels like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “Honey!”

“Shut up,” Honey groans. She buries herself under the covers, pulling the sheets over her head and disappearing into a lump.

“Are you so excited at least?” Bea aks, wrapping her arms around Honey’s middle and pressing her cheek into Honey’s back. 

Honey smiles into the pillow. “It’s exciting,” she admits.

Bea squeals again and squeezes Honey’s waist like a belt that’s too tight.

“Alright, that’s enough, stop it with the Heimlich,” Honey scolds, pinching Bea’s forearm. Her grip slackens after a moment. “You already threw up tonight, I don’t want to either.”

“Do you think you’re going to?”

Honey’s not sure. It is a little nauseating to have said what she said to Trevor, even if he received it well. She said it back again and she wants to keep saying it back, but it’s still weird. She’ll either throw up from being excited or from being so surprised that she told Trevor how she feels.

She buries her face in the pillow and screams.

77:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has been riding on a high since last night. He’d been hesitant to tell Honey how he felt, how he loved her, but after running into Thomas and seeing how she’d handled that so well, Trevor had thought that there was no better time than the present.

He’d been trying to build up to it. He was praising the girl and trying to fill her head with a bunch of pretty– and genuine– compliments so that she didn’t freak out when he uttered those three words.

She’d said it first. Honey had beat him to the punch by about one second, which surprised Trevor. Her statement hadn’t really computed in his brain until after he’d said his piece, which is when he’d felt so surprised that all he could do was repeat himself. 

It wasn’t surprising that Honey bolted after the fact. She’d been in an abject state of denial after calling Trevor her boyfriend by mistake the week prior, so it made sense that she was surprised and confused and frustrated with herself when she’d accidentally said “I love you.” Trevor knows Honey well enough to assume that she hadn’t meant to tell him that. He’d bet money on it.

It feels like a quick turnaround on paper, Trevor thinks. He’s never actually said “I love you” to anyone other than his family members and his closest friends, so he doesn’t know what the “right” time is. He’s known Honey for two and a half months now, but like she always says, mountain time passes differently. It feels more like he’s known her for five or six months. Quite frankly, Trevor has had feelings for Honey since he saw her outside of the grocery store on his first day in Litchton. He’s liked her since then and he can’t really pinpoint the moment that his admiration for Honey evolved into love, but it happened, and now they’re here. 

They’re one step closer to telling everyone, too. Jack knows, which isn’t ideal since everyone knows that the boy can’t keep a secret, but Trevor’s okay with that. Sure, he threatened Jack and made sure he wasn’t going to tell Cole or Luke, but he only did that to protect what Honey wants. She might be in love with Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for everyone to know.

Which is why Trevor is managing to contain himself during their last trip to the beach this morning. Bea is skipping church because she’s on vacation, so everyone is together under the ocean sun for the last time this summer. 

Honey looks practically edible in her red swimsuit. She reminds him of the classic Baywatch, the original series that Trevor would sometimes catch replays of when he was young. Yasmine Bleeth might’ve been Trevor’s first awakening, the one who made him realize that girls are pretty. Honey is yet another reminder and Trevor is having trouble keeping his eyes away from her.

She’s standing at the edge of the water with Cole. Occasionally, one of them will pick up a rock or a shell and skip it against the waves. One of Cole’s shells hits Luke, who is bobbing in the waves and tossing a football with Jack. Honey laughs with her whole body, bending at the waist.

“Eyes off, Trevor,” Bea murmurs, reaching out to slap at Trevor’s arm. 

She’s lying next to him on her towel, back bared to the sky. The tie behind her back is undone to prevent an uneven tan, but Trevor thinks she has bigger problems to worry about. Quinn’s head is resting on the small of her back and his arm is wrapped around her body, palm flat on her hip. Talk about an uneven tan, Trevor thinks.

“Why?” he questions. “It’s not like anyone up here doesn’t know about it.”

Bea groans. “Because you’re being obvious. I know that you’re in love, or whatever, but Luke and Cole don’t know anything.”

“She looks hot,” Trevor argues. “Maybe I’m just ogling her because she’s sexy. Cole and Luke can’t argue with that.”

“Do you really want Cole and Luke to ask you why you’re looking at Honey like that?” Bea points out. “You’ll have to tell them she’s hot and then they’ll look at Honey like she’s hot.”

“And they’d be right to think that,” Trixie adds in a disinterested voice. She’s preoccupied with the stack of papers in one hand and the legal pad balanced on her knee. She waves her hair out of her face and looks at Trevor, tilting her head down to that she can meet his eyes above the rims of her sunglasses. “You’re lucky that she decided to date you.”

“I know,” Trevor replies, feeling like he has to defend himself against the sisters. He doesn’t take advantage of being Honey’s boyfriend, nor does he take her for granted. He knows that their relationship is still pretty fragile and new, even if they love each other. 

Bea hums, squinting at him. She seems to decide to take his word for it, because she changes the subject. “I gave Jack $200 to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible,” Quinn mumbles. He picks his head up and turns to face the back of Bea’s head. “You don’t have to pay Jack to keep their secret.”

Bea shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’d rather pay him to stay silent than just have blind faith in him.”

Quinn snorts and kisses down Bea’s spine. “I think the world is lucky that you’re not in a position of power,” he comments. “If you’re so willing to resort to bribery.”

“What has Ada been teaching you at that store, Bea?” Trixie jumps in. “I hope you’re not bribing customers or your suppliers. I’d get so fired for bribing people.”

“We’re not allowed to bribe people either,” Quinn adds. “Although I bet Z would if he could. Anaheim sucks.”

“I would not,” Trevor refutes. He’s still fighting with the group and defending himself. They start laughing like it’s all some big joke, but his feathers are still ruffled. Trevor huffs and turns away from them, looking back at Honey and Cole. 

Cole has Honey thrown over his shoulder and he’s marching into the waves. She’s shrieking and Cole stumbles over the sandbar and sends them both tumbling into the waves. Honey surfaces with a sputter and pushes Cole into a wave, jumping onto him and holding him underwater. Luke and Jack get involved not long after.

The rest of the day passes far faster than Trevor would like. They eat cold cut sandwiches as a group for lunch. Jack gets far too sunburnt, despite Honey and Bea’s better efforts to convince him to wear sunscreen. He claimed he didn’t need it since he tans well, but his pink skin is proof that he doesn’t tan as well as he thinks he does.

In the afternoon, Trixie runs up to the house and gets a volleyball. They play beach volleyball without a net, instead drawing a line in the sand that marks the barriers of the game. They don’t keep track of who’s winning or who’s on what team. The game isn’t serious and there’s a boatload of cheating– Bea pushes Luke over while his head it turned towards the sky, despite being on the same team, and they all laugh about it. Jack puts Honey on his shoulders so she can block a hit from Trixie. The ball ends up hitting her straight in the chest and knocks the wind out of her. When they finally head up to the house in the early evening, Honey’s still got an imprint of the ball on her skin. She calls it her battle scar and compares it to the mark on Quinn’s cheek. Quinn tells Honey that hers will fade.

For dinner, they eat the burgers that Trevor had bought when they ran into Thomas. Trixie whips up a salad to go with the meal and they all eat at her dining room table.

After dinner, they pack and divide into cars. Honey, Bea, and Quinn take Quinn’s rental car back. Trevor, Jack, Luke, and Cole are relegated to the other car. They speed home, losing Quinn’s car within the second hour, once they pass Raleigh. Cole falls asleep halfway through the drive and doesn’t wake up until they get back to Litchton. 

One of Honey’s favorite songs starts to play from Trevor’s liked songs as they turn onto the main road. He closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest. Jack has the windows rolled down and the air smells clearer up here. 

Trevor can’t imagine driving down this mountain in two weeks, knowing that he won’t be back until next year.

[snekdood]

the yerfs are back again

[fastandcarlos]

On The Mend : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: with your lack of presence in the paddock, fans are starting to worry, little do they know that you happen to be a little broken back at home

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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 849,183 others

oscarpiastri: another successful week of racing, super proud of the whole team to get the car all the way to P2 this weekend 🏆🏎️

35,058 comments

username1: congratulations oscar, such an awesome drive!!

username2: just a shame that yn wasn’t there to see it once again 🙄

landonorris: so proud of you osc 😭😭😭

username3: surely they can’t still be together, she hasn’t shown her face in weeks…

charles_leclerc: mum is very proud that the two of us were on the podium btw

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc it was all thanks to her pep talk ofc

username4: we’ll still support you osc even if yn won’t

mclaren: the whole team is so proud of you, congratulations oscar!

username5: enjoy the celebrations, I’m sure the team will be there for you at least 🥲

danielricciardo: congrats brother, always nice to see you repping for down under

username6: either something must be seriously wrong or yn really just doesn’t care anymore 😭

maxverstappen1: hell of a drive from you, great to see you back where you belong!

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ynusername posted two private stories

replies

georgerussell63: thanks for reminding everyone I got a penalty yn 😂😂

oscarpiastri: make sure you’re resting, you don’t need to worry about the race sweetheart!!

ynusername: I’ve never missed a race of yours 😩

danielricciardo: why tf are you in hospital and why didn’t you tell me immediately so that I could help!!

nicolepiastri: sending you lots of love sweetheart, sorry we can’t be there to help you 💕

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oscarpiastri: I promise to sneak you in loads of snacks as soon as I’m there 💞

lilymhe: I miss you so much, hope you’re recovering well girlie

landonorris: he’s on the first flight outta here straight back to you 🧡

carmenmmundt: sending you all the healing vibes in the world ❤️

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liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and 812,948 others

oscarpiastri: wish me luck on the flight, some weird passenger keeps looking over their shoulder at me 👀

36,950 comments

username7: that poor pilot having to drive these two home lmao

danielricciardo: now you get to experience my struggle before you came along 😭

oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo idk how you ever did it 🤦🏻

username8: at least oscar has lando to celebrate with even though others have abandoned him

alex_albon: why else do you think we offered to take you home on our plane instead?! 😂

username9: i wonder if he's going home to yn being there or not

charles_leclerc: you're incredibly brave volunteering to travel home with him 👏🏻

username10: yn should be there with him, i really hope that they're okay

username11: what would we do without these two in our lives!?

maxverstappen1: we tried to talk you out of it but you didn't listen 🤷🏻

username 12: i love how all the boys are exposing lando as a terrible travel partner hahah

landonorris: stop trying to make it sound like we're not bffs osc 💔

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris that's because we're definitely not best friends

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liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 793,722 others

oscarpiastri: seeing as some people want to make it their business, we thought we’d share why yn hasn’t been around recently. a couple of weeks ago she had a nasty fall at home which resulted in a broken leg. yesterday I finally got to bring her home and begin helping her with recovery…just call me doctor piastri from now on 🧑🏻‍⚕️💞

57,492 comments

username13: i hope all you losers who thought they broke up are proud of yourselves 🙄

landonorris: you guys know where i am if you need anything!!

georgerussel63: we love you yn, make sure you get plenty of rest ❤️❤️❤️

username14: sending you so much love yn, get plenty of rest

ynusername: apologies in advance for the lack of sleep you're about to get because of me 😂

oscarpiastri: @/ynusername as long as you're healing idc 🥹

username15: can't believe some of you were so stupid to ever think they'd actually break up

alex_albon: glad to see you're back at home where you belong yn

danielricciardo: do i even want to ask how she managed to break her leg??

oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo if I told you I don't think you'd believe me 😂

username16: poor oscar looks exhausted having to drive and take care of yn too

charles_leclerc: pls tell me I get to sign the cast ✍️

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc i'll save a spot just for you

username17: please make sure you take care of yourself yn and ignore what everyone has to say

carmenmmundt: sending you so many healing vibes yn, we miss you at the paddock

username18: during a time when they need privacy and instead they've been hounded by nosey idiots 🤦🏻

maxverstappen1: can't wait to see all the doctor piastri content from you! 😂

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liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55 and 682,058 others

oscarpiastri: the only way to get her out of the house atm is to bribe her with coffee ☕️

63,957 comments

username19: it's adorable how much oscar cares about her 🥰

lilymhe: tell her im omw with coffee as we speak to get her out again!

username20: it's so good to see yn back up on her feet and moving around again 🤩

alex_albon: i actually forgot what yn looked like stood upright for a moment

username21: why does it feel like oscar is one of those partners who is constantly checking on her making sure she's doing her exercises and following every single bit of advice

maxverstappen1: yn's injury is really making you look like the doting boyfriend rn ❤️

danielricciardo: if yn ever gets bored of being entertained on a walk by you, you know where i am!

username22: i bet yn can't wait for race weekend again to get rid of the nagging doctor 😂

landonorris: wish you looked after me as well as you look after yn

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris just a shame that we're not dating then really huh?!

username23: anyone else noticed how many drivers have been round this week to take yn out and make sure she's staying active too

username24: @/username23 i think she might just be the most popular wag on the grid

ynusername: i hate you but i love you at the same time these days 💞

oscarpiastri: @/ynusername if the doctor says you keep moving, it's my job to make you move 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 59,491 others

ynusername: I always knew oscar was secretly boyfriend coded but damn having him look after me is making me fancy him all over again 🔥

12,056 comments

username25: i think i might've just fallen in love with him all over again too 😍

alexandrasaintmleux: make the most of all of the attention you're getting girl

ynusername: @/alexandrasaintmleux oh I am, he doesn't let me lift a finger 😘

username26: soft, doctor boyfriend oscar might just be my new favourite thing

charles_leclerc: if i see many more of these posts from you i might just need a sick bucket 🤮

username27: yn you really are the luckiest having this guy in your life

carlossainz55: i always knew he was a softie deep down 🥺

oscarpiastri: you know i'd do anything as long as it meant getting you better again

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri you're an angel in disguise i swear

username28: i'd break my leg too if it meant oscar piastri was there to look after me 😂

username29: it melts my heart to see how caring oscar has been over the past few weeks

danielricciardo: even i found myself getting a bit excited when i saw these photos yn

username30: everyone needs an oscar piastri in their life

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ynusername posted two stories

replies

landonorris: you're ruining oscar's image with every post you share these days 😂

oscarpiastri: there's nowhere else that I'd rather be

ynusername: we'll pretend you didn't complain that it wasn't race weekend first thing this morning shall we???

carmenmmundt: hope it's good news, lemme know how you get on!!

alex_albon: praying for you and hoping that it's the beginning of the end now 💕

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danielricciardo: thinking of you guys, tell the doctor if he doesn't give you good news i'll break his leg 💞

ynusername: something tells me you might find a few challenges in doing that hahah

georgerussell63: you're so strong yn, just remember we love you

charles_leclerc: the whole family is hoping for good news for you and oscar ❤️

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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 70,238 others

ynusername: the moment i've waited for for so long, back in my second home of the garage and back supporting my love during race weekend

14,592 comments

username31: make sure you keep taking care of yourself yn!! 💕

oscarpiastri: cannot begin to tell you how happy i am to have you back with me again ☺️

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri the best feeling in the world being able to cheer you on again

danielricciardo: ik just how much this means to you, welcome back to us yn

username32: it's so good to see you right back where you belong again

username33: it feels like you've never been away, I'm so happy for you guys 🥹

charles_leclerc: on the mend at last, i hope you know just how many people can't wait to welcome you back this weekend

username34: we love our favourite #81 fan 🧡

iamrebeccad: i am hurrying over to that mclaren garage as fast as i possibly can rn ‼️

username35: so happy to see you back on your feet and back with our favourite duo again

username36: this is the content we've been waiting for, it's so good to see you back

landonorris: as much as i hate having to share oscar again, it's a joy to have you back 🙃

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[r0-boat]

🪶 anon here! Can I request headcanons for ZZZ Lighter, Billy, Anton, Ben Bigger, Wise, and Lycaon reacting to being under a mistletoe with his gn crush please?

Oh my God Oh my God I'm so late.

Pretend it's Christmas! just pretend! shut up!!

ZZZ Boys react being under the mistletoe

You smiled and chatted with a little group of your friends, the managers at random play hosted a Christmas party in their parking lot and who are you to decline your best friends! With a few chairs and tables Christmas lights and even a giant projector playing classic Christmas movies it quickly became very lively Even some of the people running the shop next door brought homemade food and treats, and some alcohol. After a drink or two and introducing yourself to a few people, You somehow made your way under a familiar green plant with someone you knew.

Lighter Lorenz

He'll try to act like he wasn't the one who tried so hard to look so casual standing close enough between you and the mistletoe. He'd been trying to get you underneath all night, And now that you're right next to him he had to hold back how much he was smiling as all he did was look up.

"Well, would you look at that... I'm not too familiar with the rules, are you?" The big fat liar said, letting a little curve of a smile grace his freshly moisturized lips from the chapstick he had used earlier. He was already sneaking his arms around your waist pulling you closer to kiss him. You decided to not call him out for his blatant lie as he almost completely took the lead and kissed you.

Billy Kid

He generally thought mistletoe was a myth, a myth that someone like him would never be under a plant like that. He didn't even know that The plant actually was a real life plant until Nicole had to explain to him what he was underneath. And once everything hits him all at once.

Billy.exe stopped working

He doesn't care if he can't feel your soft lips, the fact that you kissed him counts. But damn it was one of those days where he really wish he could feel maybe he should get that skin sensation update. It's expensive but any price he would pay to feel your lips again.

Anton Ivanov

The most chill out of everyone. "Oh I'm just giving you a kiss? Sure!" As he goes in to kiss you. Using the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you has him fist bumping the air.

Anton is the kind of guy who makes his feelings for you known. He's also so blatant with his feelings that you think he's joking. If it was anywhere else on that mistletoe, he would have kissed them on the cheek or something, but no, for you. He makes sure to kiss you where it counts. He'll even ask "do you want more?"please say yes he would like that.

Ben Bigger

Poor bear he's practically shaking. Despite being twice your size He scared that he might hurt you or nip you on accident with his sharp teeth. "You don't have to if you don't want to... You can just kiss me right here." He says with a smile His claw pointing to his cheek. He could never accept a kiss from your lips. It's not the right time!

He'll make sure to bend to your height. His eyes closed, bracing for your soft lips. He could hear his heart pounding so loud that it drowned out everyone else. He hopes no one is looking. He might die from embarrassment or cardiac arrest, whichever one comes first.

You surprise him by touching his cute face and kissing his little nose. He hopes that you can't see his blushing face through his brown fur, but he's not helping to hide how he feels with his paws covering his face.

Wise

Damn it! He told his sister not to hang up that thing! And when trying to take it down you just so happen to bump into him. His eyes went wide as his heart jumped in his throat instantly forgetting what he was doing. His voice cracks as you point out the mistletoe that he's trying to reach for.

"Y-yeah That's there... Um... So listen you don't have to if you-" You were done hearing it as you kissed him on the lips. Thanking his self-restraint that day for swallowing his internal screaming. But he couldn't do much to hide the blush on his face as he smiled. "Forward aren't you... Save some for me." Four words that he will be regretting for the rest of his life.

Fine, the mistletoe can stay... For now, he'll have to thank his sister later.

Von Lycaon

To him a mistletoe is childish, Even as a younger pup He thought it was a little stupid. But with that bright smile on your face how could he refuse. Why spoil your fun? You look so happy to see him and you're cute face always makes his tail wag.

"where would you like my lips to lay?" He asks. When you appoint to your lips his eyebrows flick up for just a second before his smile widens. "Who am I to turn down such a request." He can't help but give you a little extra pressing his nose against your hand before moving to kiss your lips. Now he definitely understands the appeal of mistletoe.

Asaba Harumasa

He would probably take the mistletoe that is tied to the ceiling and bring it over to you. He taps your shoulder and jiggles it in his hand with a smug smile. He will regret this for the rest of his life, but who cares? He has a little alcohol in his system, and you're right there. His heart could burst when he felt your lips against his. He wanted more so badly. He tried to pull you in closer. His eyes were half-lit as if he were under a spell.

He had to stop himself from going in for another kiss. Your lips were so perfect. He wished he could do more than a quick peck, but with people watching, he couldn't just slip his tongue in your mouth.

[hoshigray]

hmmmm, chosuki both "marking their territory" after one of reader's friends gets a little too touchy?

Love your work <3333333

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: when i tell you i was grinning once i saw this in my inbox, lol, finally chosuki yessss!! ty for loving my stuff ☆

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso + Yuki x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - threesome - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - anal (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - cowgirl 69 + missionary positions - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/marking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, honey, sweetie, sweet pea) - mild possessive behavior.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so lucky to have such eye-catchers fawning over you!”

“Pfffthaha, oh, stop it! You’re drunk; stop swinging around!”

There’s one thing in this world that both Yuki and Choso don’t play about — you.

You are the sweetest and most prized treasure they cherish with their very hands. Being in a poly relationship tends to be a hard thing to manage for Yuki and Choso. The two lovers were never in luck to find the right person who didn’t match their vibe or wanted to change the dynamic they were going for. But with every dark tunnel, there’s a light on the other side. And thanks to the blonde and dark brunette’s stars, you were their saving grace.

God, they adored you very much — the best partner they could ever have. The way you’d wake up to them and give them a kiss with a soft ‘good morning,’ how you make lunch for Choso before he goes on his way to work, or texting sweet messages to Yuki to check how she’s doing or telling her about this new place that opened around the area for all three of you to explore. Blind by your smile and caring charm, Yuki and Choso live in eternal bliss and happiness, knowing you have blessed them with your presence to return home to.

Their love for you is mutual and genuine, authentic in that they wish to spend their days — no, their entire lives! — being with you. They see you as their muse, as theirs. So, it’s predictable that they’d be secretly jealous when they’d have to share their piece of heaven with others.

Especially now when all three of you had been dragged by some of your old college buddies for a night out at the pub. Figuring this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce your friends to your lovers, Yuki and Choso were invited over to enjoy the merits of this occasion. What the two partners hadn’t expected was how close you all were — albeit a little too close for their liking. 

You all sat at one big round booth table, Yuki and Choso being separated from you as your friends wanted to have you by them for just the night. Again, it made the two lovers feel uneasy. Even when a girl friend grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers enthusiastically, the blonde can’t fight the twitch of her ruby eyes. The friend goes on to say, “Nah, are you kidding? I think those two are the ones who are lucky to have Y/n! They’re such an angel; anyone would feel like they’ve won a million dollars if they got with someone like them.”

Then, a guy who was visibly buzzed joined the praise fest. “You’re so right! I’d do backflips every day if I scored someone so gracious and sweet as Y/n,” the drunk man brings a hand on your shoulder and nestles his cheek to your shoulder. Choso attempts to keep a neutral expression, but caramel eyes carry a tiny hostile aura. “I’d make sure to love on them every single day, kiss their feet when they walk, wash their hair when they ask—“

“Okay, lover boy,” you stop him before your drunken friend digs his foolish grave even further, and it’s hard to hide your giggles. “I think that’s enough Crowne and tequila for one night.”

You and your friends laugh and continue to strike up a conversation to catch up on material. However, you’re so engrossed in the others’ talk that you can’t sense the tension that’s brewing from the other side where your lovers sit. The two survey the scene with silent eyes, with Choso hitting his leg to stop the bounce of his knee and Yuki tapping her fingernails on the table surface.

All they could do was watch you, their treasured partner, share your attention with those who cherish you. Although, internally, they wanted you all to themselves. Yes, it was selfish; however, you can’t blame your lovers for being a little protective of you. Specifically when it seems your friends don’t appear to respect your boundaries when in their company.

So for that, it’s no surprise they instantly pull you into the bedroom once you three return home. Hungry kisses are exchanged between three pairs of lips, lustful hands stripping you of your clothes and throwing you onto the bed, where they meet in seconds to feast upon you.

“Hahhh, fuck…Hmmm, yeah, lick right there, honey.”

“Mmmm…Mmahh!! Choso, your tongue—Ohh! Feels so good…”

The brunette man is lying down on his back with you straddling above him, his face and mouth buried into our folds, licking around your labia and sucking your essence that seeps out from the pleasurable motions. His hands knead the flesh of your inner thighs as you hum along to the touch. Simultaneously, you use your tongue and mouth to give pleasure to Yuki’s slit, the blonde releasing shaky moans as she rides on Choso’s length with her ass.

The tall woman peers down to watch you orally please her. She strokes your head with a pleasant hand and sends praises. “There you go, cutie,” she bites her lip. “Lick it real good.”

Her commands egg you on to keep going, using the motion of her hips to your advantage to predict how far in you can keep lapping her chasm. Your hands crawl to her waist to massage, using the leverage to keep your lips on her at all times. And to your effort, she is sighing happily at the gratification you give her. It has her rock her hips ever harder, taking in Choso’s long shaft with hunger.

The man below you grunts at the motion, stuffing his face more into your cunt to suck harshly. And you can’t help but jolt, muffled squeals vibrating to Yuki’s core — and she relishes the feeling.

“Look at you, baby,” Choso slowly licks your chasm, sending shivers up to your shoulders. “You’re all wet and ready for us, huh? So good for us,” He kisses your clit and places lazy licks, and you fight to lose your balance.

“Hmmm, yeah, so good for us…Although—mmahh,” Yuki throws her head back at Choso’s dick scraping her insides at the right places. “Can’t say you were good when we were…Hohhh..at the pub.” You bat your eyes towards her in confusion, yet your tongue and lips remain busy. “Letting those people touch you in front of us; what were you thinking?”

You remove your mouth from Yuki to explain, her slick connected to your bottom lip. But before you could utter a word, your body jerked to the sharp instance of pain on your inner thigh. Choso had bit you, licking the place his teeth sank in before throwing in another nibble. You shriek, turning to plead to the man to be easy; however, the woman grabs your head and brings it back to where it’s supposed to be. “Don’t forget about me, sweet pea,” she chuckles at your feverish laps on her wet folds. “Give me my attention…”

She moans to your work, satisfying her with the flick of your tongue on her delicate clit. She rocks her hips even faster, prompting Choso to groan and buck his pelvis to her puckered hole, and his mouth remains glued to your chasm. He then sneaks a finger to toy around your asshole, and a sharp gasp erupts from your figure when he inserts the digit inside. 

“—Khhaaa, oooohmy fuckin’—Gaaahh!” Flicks to your clitoris tag along with the push of his finger inside your ass, playing with the texture by scraping the walls. And when his tongue goes inside your vagina, you clamp onto him with vigor. Fuck, I’m so close…! “Yukiiii, pleaseee, can I cumm?”

“Aww, why should I let you,” her sweet tone distracted you from the sneaking bit of the man’s teeth on your thigh once more. “Do you deserve to cum? After letting other people touch you like you forgot you had your lovers present?” 

“Hahhhnn, I’m sorry; I—shit… didn’t mean to upset you both…Ooof!” Choso switches his finger with his thumb, pushing it to and fro inside your tight entrance. Your eyes screw shut, “Please forgive me, you two are the only ones I love…”

“You swear on that, honey?” A glint shines in her magenta orbs. 

You nod hurriedly before placing kisses on Yuki’s thighs and trailing them back to her vagina, “Yessss, I love you both so much, no one knows how to love me as you do…” Your hips sway involuntarily — not a problem for Choso, who sticks to you no matter what. “Mmmm, only you two know my mind and body, and I wouldn’t want it any other way…”

Blonde brows eyebrows screw together; fuck, you knew what to say to make Yuki fall for you all over again. Her cunt clenching on nothing but the love your words carry. Jesus, you were too much. Without a word, she gently withdraws your body from her body so she can lift her body off of Choso. She then flips you over; now you’re the one lying on your back, with the tall woman stationed behind to snake her hands to your breasts.

Choso’s pigtails have long been drawn down for his hair to fall to his nape, and strands of his walnut-colored hair stick to his forehead. Maneuvering to his knees, he examines your anticipated expression, shaky wails coming out your puffy lips as Yuki places soft kisses on your neck. She also places bites wherever her mouth can reach, her hands busy cupping your mounds, groping the mounds, and tweezing your nipples. With how hard she was sucking your skin, you’re sure there’d be hickeys when you wake up in the morning. The man strokes his dick at the sight before him, inching closer to be between your legs.

“Choso…” The way you said his name made him feel warm; the mark across his nose exuded streaks of his blood that threatened to fall. His ears and shoulders get pinker, and your breath hitches when he slaps the tip onto your saliva-coated slit. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He says it low to your ear, and you chew on your lip when he licks your lobe. His mouth travels down, leaving harsh sucks on your neck and clavicle along with Yuki. Two mouths on your body have you whimpering like a fool, so sensitive to their touch that you could wither away. “Hmm? Who loves you most, sweetie?” He comes down to your chest that’s occupied by Yuki’s worshipping hands, popping a nipple into his mouth to suck with care.

“Hahhh, you, Choso, my darling…” you sigh into the sense of his mouth licking diligently around your bud. Your face turns in Yuki’s direction, smiling at the golden-haired woman before claiming her lips. “And Yuki, my love…”

The two of you kiss slowly yet maintain the same passion you have for each other, noses brushing against each other and tongues swirling before smacking lips together. The brunette lifts his head from your chest, straightening his posture to insert his cockhead inside your vagina. You mewl into Yuki at the insertion, and it doesn’t stop as the woman slithers a hand to your clit to swipe. You break the kiss in a huff, making the blonde snicker. 

“Mmmph…Jesus Christ,” Choso trembles at the warm snug of your cunt as it accepts his length, pushing in for every inch of him to be swallowed in. When his base meets your southern lips, you hiss at how full you feel from his size. “You know how much we love you, right, baby?”

You nod to him, Yuki placing another hickey-worth kiss on your shoulder. “Your love makes me full, honey…Ohooo…!”

“And don’t forget that…” Choso snaps his hips, drilling his long dick into you and making precise hits to the walls of your chasm. You squeak beneath him, the tip of his cock poking your sweet spots with ease, and you’re gripping the sheets to keep you steady along with Yuki’s hold on you.

The blonde woman flickers her ruby eyes to Choso and beams, “You know you’re hot as hell when you’re all possessive, right?”

“Shut up,” he shushes her with a kiss, humming to her lips that reciprocate his feelings as lovers. The only noise that fills the room is your whines and wails from the hands fondling your body and the shaft plunging so far inside you that you can’t contain the ecstatic screams originating from your inner being. Good God, this felt so fucking good; being wanted and loved by these two is a sensation incomparable to anything. You want to drown in it, be immersed within it, have your senses be robbed of their very being until you fall deep into sleep in their embrace. This feels so worth it, so satisfying…

…Until you look at yourself in the mirror and find so many fucking hickeys all over your body, all the way from your neck to the grave of your thighs. This was not a sight to see after waking up, especially on the morning your friends from last night invited you over for brunch. 

Needless to say, you pulled your lovers aside and gave them an earful. The two nodded to your words, saying “Sorry…” throughout your rant as you tried to find an adequate outfit to conceal their markings, feeling a little bad that they got carried away with you last night.

All is good, in any case. Because now they know that you are theirs both in mind and body.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Crazy ex boyfriend

tw: female reader, non - con, heavy degradation, slut-shaming, abuse/violence, mockery of depression, suicidal ideation, obsessive behavior, death threats, dark

It's 2 a.m. and you can't sleep - you keep turning and burying your head into the soft, warm pillow, but something is off. The moon is too bright, coming in from the gap between your heavy curtains. The crickets outside are too loud, playing around and singing the same old melody over and over again. The static silence of the old radio tucked under the drawers is too repetitive, too predictable. All in all, you can feel it in your bones; something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

You hear the steps next. That sinister laughter - getting louder and louder, someone screaming at the top of their lungs, the echo flooding through the thin walls of your small shared flat. Someone's fist is gripping the lock with uneccessary cruelty as if trying to knock it out of the handle. The key falls down in one sharp motion, and your heart stops completely once the door opens with a squeaky, familiar bang - it still makes you jump even after all those months.

"Aww, baby!" The man exclaims, leaning against the door. You're not sure if you are hallucinating due to the countless hours of lost sleep, or there is actually smoke coming out of his old black trenchcoat. You're not even sure if he's trully here, or if this is yet another nightmare. "You didn't bother with locks this time!" He continues, smiling with childlike glee - but you know him too well. He's never peaceful. He's never cheerful. Any indication of happiness the monster exhibits is meant to confuse and trick his prey, and you're not falling for his tricks again. You already got burnt one too many times.

"Does that mean you missed me?" He tilts his head, almost pouting at you. He's all disheveled - a total wreck. The curly, unruly hair you once loved to caress and play with now just seems shaggy and unkept, sticking out like an explosion. His eyes are dark, well, darker, bloodshot, barely recognizable from the warm pots of honey that used to make you melt against him. He's lost weight, yet weirdly enough seems to have gained some muscle. You can't help, but think that it simply looks weird, unnatural even. Adam, the one you remember, was never strong - he was never threatening, never even raised his voice at you. But that was years ago in the sweet, distant dreams of the past, and that boy had died the moment you two moved in together. That's when your hell trully began.

"Were you trying to give me easy access, baby? Hm?" He smirks, interrupting your stream of consciousness. If you were unsure of his physicallity, of his existence, it's bright clear now - because you can never mistake that taunting, humiliating curve to his voice, the one he only uses when he's mad. Really, really mad. "Knew I would be back?"

You take a deep breath, slowly nodding along - maybe if you play nice, he'd just go away. Maybe this time you won't end up in cuts and bruises, all memories, good or bad, completely wiped off your drugged out hazy brain.

"Of course you did." Your ex boyfriend humms in satisfaction, taking a single step towards you - and it makes you tremble all over, no matter how much you wish you could remain calm and collected at the face of Death himself. "Because I told you so, no?" He clenches his teeth, raising his head so his eyes would meet yours. You feel like a deer caught before a trigger guard with an unstable trigger, one second away from being shot in the heart. "I told you-" He steps closer. "That I'll be back-" Another step. "Didn't I, princess?"

You nod again, unable to produce a sound. You almost wish he brought his gun so this little torture session would end quicker. Almost.

"Aww, look at you trying so hard to please me. It's adorable, baby." The man coos, his knee sliding across the edge of your bed. Fear takes a hold of your lungs, squeezing them in until you feel like you're seeing stars - and then Adam climbs on top of you. It all happens so quickly - one moment he's far away, and then he's towering over you, his hot breath ghosting over your sweaty neck, baby hairs sticking out with shivers. You can't shake the terrifying, unescapable feeling that you've been here before. That you somehow always end up underneath him, begging for your life - for mercy he won't ever grant you.

"I wonder where all that enthusiasm was when you decided to run on me." The white part of his eyes suddenly illuminates, brows raised together - he looks deranged. "Huh?" He looks at you, expecting an answer, yet you can't think of one. Your brain is turning to mush, consumed by raw panic - but why does it matter? Whatever you say he'll find a way to use against you. "Answer me, you fucking bitch!" He hisses, voice dropping to a diabolical whisper as his fist snaps around your throat like a metal collar. This seems to break off your stupor, and you open your mouth, ready to yell at whoever is still awake.

"Don't you dare fucking scream, cunt." Adam grips your jaw with one hand, crushing your cheeks into each other. "If I hear a single word come out of that filthy little mouth of yours, I am going to slit your fucking throat." His lips twist in a big sadistic grin you would have wanted to punch had you had the strength to move your arm around. Instead you whimper, defeated. Even after everything, your stupid self preservation instinct won't let you die - so it sacrifices the only thing you have left, your dignity. "And then in the morning your little friends will find you drowning in your own blood." He lowers his face, cold dead lips tracing the rough lines of your collarbone.

"A pretty picture for sure." He bites his lower lip, imagining it for just a second. "Bu-ut I know that even a depressed, suicidal little attention whore like you wouldn't want her friends to be sad." The man adds teasingly, and you can feel the bile back up into your stomach, burning and acidic. You may actually throw up all over him if you're not careful. And then he'd kill you for sure. "I mean, you seem to care for these pesky bugs oh-so much. It'd be a pity to force them to clean up your remains-"

"N-no, that's not true. I don't care about them, I only care about you!" You lie through your teeth, hot, salty tears pricking your eyes as you deny the love you have for the only people who care about you - the ones who basically saved you from a life of abuse and suffering. But apparently nothing good lasts, not when it comes to you. "Adam, I only love y-"

He backhands you - the slap echoes through the roof. Ouch.

"Don't say-" Your ex boyfriend grunts, roughly shoving you down. You take a shallow breath, letting the sting settle in. It's going to leave a red ugly handprint all over your cheek - and yet you stupidly thought your little confession was going to make him happy. Your anchors, the straws that used to buy you time, howerer rare and far in between, are all gone now. You used them up. You've run out of time, out of trick, out of will to keep fighting.

But you know he'll never make good on his threats. He'd never actually kill you - he doesn't love you enough to rid you of this miserable obsession that ties you together. And yet you tremble every time you feel the graze of his knife against your skin - you cower whenever he raises his hand. And you break down when he holds you close, hoping, praying that this time his embrace would prove just suffocating enough for you to stop breathing all together. It never does.

"Don't say you love me. You don't love me." Adam hisses in your ear, venom dripping off each word. "And I don't even care if you love me." He turns you around, pushing your face into your pillow - muffling your cries into weak, hiccuping sobs. "You're nothing." He swallows, averting his gaze to your lower body - yanking your shorts down with little concern as to whether they'd rip or not. "You amount to nothing, you're lower than dirt. You're just a fucked up little bitch." The man keeps mouthing off, and you can't decide what hurts more - his nails digging into your hips, or the razor sharp insults. " I never want you to forget that you deserve everything I give you."

You cry out as his massive length enters you with absolutely no preparation. It hurts - you're dry and it chaffs against your walls with nothing to make it slide freely, bruising your cervix. Your muscles are trying to push the foregin object out, but it keeps pushing in and out of you in forceful uniform thrusts. Between the waves of sharp and stinging-hot pain you manage to form a coherent thought - and you're surprised. Surprised that the man is even able to stay hard when all he feels right now is anger. Not love or affection, not even lust. Just anger. Surprised your body is still going even after your mind has given up. Surprised that, even despite all your protests and agony, you are growing used to this.

"I gave you everything." Adam start off again, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "Everything - but you're too much of a selfish whore to see." He pulls your hair back so you'd face him from beneath - then he slaps you with all force. "I want to mess up that pretty little face of yours." His hand connects to your cheek once again. You know you'll wake up all puffy and blue tomorrow morning - if you even wake up. "I want you so goddamn ugly no one wants you anymore." He pulls you in by your shirt, smashing his lips against yours with a brutal force - as if he's trying to become one with you, and break your face at the same time. "I want you so ruined-" He kisses you again, teeth running into teeth - yet he's the one to bite you first. "And lonely that you have no one else to turn to."

"I want you broken." He pulls away just to stare into your empty eyes, voice now back to a whisper. "As broken as me."

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[starogeorgina]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.01

“His heart beats for blood. Blood and fire.”

Jacaerys stares at his betrothed from across the room, watching as she mumbles to herself while flicking through the same book he’s seen her read many times, her heavy-looking eyes often fixated on the same page for a long period of time. He was informed the library and Sept were the only places she would visit outside her private chambers since Aemond killed his brother.

The last time Jace’s family were all together, in King’s landing, King Viserys declared his youngest daughter and eldest grandson were to be wed, with the intention of mending the rift between House Targaryen once and for all.

But that wasn’t what happened.

His betrothed was visibly happy and very vocal about how excited she was to start planning the wedding with his mother. Then his grandsire died, his mother’s throne was usurped, and his unborn sister died. Since returning from Winterfell Jacaerys, the princess hasn’t even glanced in his direction; she was avoiding him, which stung. Jace had never felt so alone; he always had Lucerys by his side before. Perhaps the princess was hiding herself away out of fear of being treated badly for what her brothers, mother, and grandsire had done to his family.

Not that he thought of her any differently; if anything, the young prince pitted her.

Jacaerys watches her for a few moments longer then decides it’s best to leave the princess be; no point in disturbing someone who is seeking isolation.

—

You stop making alterations to the tunic you were embroidering when you hear the door to the chambers you were currently occupying being opened; without looking back, you know who it is. When the footsteps don’t go any further than the doorway, you start threading the needle again.

Every corner you turn, you feel dark eyes burning a hole into you. Nothing that you could say would undo the pain inflicted already. Your mind begins to wonder again, and you don’t notice Jace moving until he’s sitting next to you at the wooden desk. He was looking directly at you, but you avoided meeting his gaze.

“My Prince.”

He takes a sharp intake of breath, “I hold no ill will towards you.”

The funeral for Lucerys was held earlier that day, just before the sun began to set. You watched from afar as Rhaenyra crumpled to pieces, and the rest of her family sobbed, mourning the loss of such a sweet boy. It would have been wrong for you to join them when someone you cared for dearly caused them so much pain.

“How can you not? My twin is the reason you won’t get to see Luke again.”

Jacaerys says nothing to your response. What could he say? You sit in silence, watching Jace’s finger trace over the outline of a dragon on the tunic. “It’s unfinished; it was meant to be a gift for after the wedding.”

A small smile pulls on his lips. “It’s Vermax.”

Regardless of the awful things that had happened, you wanted to remain on Dragonstone but doubted you’d be able to stay long. You were nothing but a reminder of what Aemond had done.

“What’s on your mind?”

You finally looked up and met his eyes, which are glossy from holding back tears. In comparison, your own issues seem minuscule, but you share what’s bothering you anyway. “I don’t want to go back home.”

“This is your home.”

“I’m afraid.”

Giving you a sympathetic look, Jace uses the pad of his thumb to rub circles on the back of your hand. Comforting touches weren’t something you were familiar with, but you liked the warmth coming from his hand.

“You’re safe inside these walls. I won’t let anybody come in here and hurt you.”

“I’m afraid of Dae—”

You’re cut off when there’s a knock at the door and Rhaenyra’s handmaiden, Elinda, walks into the room. You expected Jace to remove his thumb, but instead he squeezed your hand.

Elinda greets you both, “Princess, the queen wishes to speak with you.”

—

Staring into Rhaenyra's eyes was like staring down a dragon. Her fury was evident the moment you entered her quarters; you had seen Daemon storming in the opposite direction and presumed he had something to do with the queen's foul mood. You were thankful when she went to stand by the window.

“I believe my son was in your bedchamber when I sent for you. Is that correct?”

“No, I mean—“ you begin to stumble over your words. “Yes, he was there, Prince Jacaerys came to speak with me.”

“Nothing that could have waited until the morrow, I’m sure.”

Her expression was hard to read. Although she didn’t say anything else, you felt the need to explain further. “I told him I didn’t want to go back to King's Landing, and he told me this was my home. He said, I'm safe here.”

“Why would you believe any differently?”

“Nowhere is safe.”

Rhaenyra uncrosses her arms, her expression softening. “Nobody under my rule will harm you, but I must share this with you.”

Elinda hands you a scroll. Confused, you take it from her, “I don’t understand why someone would write to me.”

You open it nervously and read it. Your lips parted slightly; Rhaenyra asks what it says, but you’re unable to answer her. Elinda looks at it and lets out a small gasp, “It’s from Aegon. He’s demanding the princess return to King’s Landing at once.”

You take the scroll and toss it into the fireplace. “It may have my brother’s signature, but that is my grandsire and mother talking.”

“Elinda, leave us for a moment.” Rhaenyra lets out a frustrated sigh. When it’s just the two of you, she asks, “Do you wish to stay here, on Dragonstone?”

“Yes,” you say, taking a step towards her. “I understand if you want me to leave, but please don’t make me go back to them.”

Seeing the desperation in your eyes, she nods. “We may not be close, but you are my youngest sister. I know you are innocent.”

“I miss Helaena and her sweet children.” You begin to sob, “I was so quick to leave with you for Dragonstone that I never went and saw father before I left. I never said goodbye to him.”

“Neither of us knew what would happen.” Rhaenyra caresses your cheek in a motherly manner. “Jacaerys is right, you are safe here.”

—

Dragonstone was much darker and colder than what you were used to; your hair always feels damp even when it’s dry. You found the sounds of waves crashing around the island comforting.

But not as comforting as being held by Jacaerys.

You expected the prince to have returned to his own quarters, but he was waiting on you to return. You were sitting on the edge of the table with your legs dangling over the edge, Jacaerys forehead pressed against your own while he held you close.

The both of you were lonely, hurt, and scared.

“Won’t you get in trouble for being here so late?”

“We will be married soon,” Jacaerys says, stepping back. “Will we share a room when we are married?”

“I was told that women only lay with their husbands for a couple of nights a month, but everyone who I know who does it seems unhappy. Would you want us to always share a bedchamber?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, you peck him on the lips. “Sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“It’s okay.” He closes his eyes. “I hope the war ends soon so my mother can sit on her throne, and you can be my wife.”

You chuckle slightly. “As happy as I am to be your wife, I’m scared for our wedding night. My mother told me sex is painful for a woman.”

“It’s not always.”

“Wait, have you...” You don’t finish the question; the thought of him bedding someone else made you feel sick.

“No, but my stepfather is Daemon Targaryen,” he chuckles. “He always told me it was important for everyone involved to feel pleasure.”

“I was just told to grip the sheets while waiting for it to be over and that only men feel good.”

Jace’s lips ghost your own, his breath warm on your face. “Have you ever felt pleasure before?”

“Yes… kind of, have you.”

Jacaerys cheeks flush red as he nods.

“I touched myself once, but I didn’t put my fingers inside.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a sin for a woman to touch themselves for desire. I went to the sept immediately afterwards and didn’t do it again.”

“Sweet girl,” Jace kisses your cheek. “I’ll never touch you anymore than you want me to.”

You hug again, but this time Jace’s head is pressed against the side of your neck. You still like that in a comfortable silence until you feel him lightly kissing your neck. He pauses waiting for your reaction; a moan slips from your mouth, and you tighten your grip, going around Jace’s back, encouraging him. “Do it again, please.”

Jacaerys starts kissing up your neck until he reaches your jawline. Lifting his head, your noses brush together, “Can I make you feel good now?”

You take Jacaerys hand and guide it underneath your skirts, helping him find the sensitive spot that brings you such pleasure.

“Oh fuck!”

Jace shushes you with a kiss, “We need to be quiet.”

You hold onto his shoulders tightly as he rubs circles on your clit until you climax.

Smiling Jacaerys kisses you again, “It’s late; we should get some rest; the morrow will come soon enough.”

“Can you stay a little longer?”

He takes your hand and helps you off the table. “Yes, but I’ll need to go before the handmaidens come in the morning.”

[lady-ashfade]

Hi could you please do yandere house of dragon x Helena twin and when Luke takes Aemond eye he also accidentally cut reader neck, and when they everyone’s gathered Alicent going crazy, reader faints making everyone extremely worried. Luke felt terrible ?

More Then A Eye

Yan!Various!HOTD Characters x Fem!Reader

Made this were the reader was the only one injured because that makes it more fun, and also might make a part 2 so that will come into play if I make that. Also feel like if it was just the reader it would be more interesting.

Warnings: Blood, gore, knifes, violence, yandere actions, reader being injured, me going slight into-depth on how the reader gets cut. Pretty much the whole thing.

Reader wants the family to all get along while the chaos is going on. She is sweetheart like her sister, but she doesn’t have the sight as her sister does. So she notices most of what’s happening, the other half of her sister.

Reader stops Aemond from getting picked on when she’s near because she has the power to make the boys calm, and the rest of the family at that. So she can get mad and upset so aemond feels at ease when his sister is around. But all the boys long for her affection and love, so they all cling to her.

The funeral is a very sad time for her since she loved Laena and the thought of her cousins losing their mother. Or her uncle losing his wife.

So to the readers surprise when she see aemond and jace have a small moments it brings a warmth to her chest in this dark time. Hoping that this was the gods way to bring her family together, but her hopes soon vanished when night came.

She had heard the others walk through the hallways as she tried to fall asleep, opening her door and their whispering calls. They got her attention and claimed someone stole vhagar so she went with them.

“I think we need to wake up our parents.” But her words were shoot down as they dragged her through the halls and down through the castle.

As soon as she saw the white hair she knew it was aemond and she wished she stayed in bed. The kids started to shout, while aemond replied in a time she never heard before, not shy. But proud and filled with venom.

When the fight broke out and all the reader could do was scream and cry for them to stop, but her body froze up. As soon as aemond grabbed ahold of Luke she ran towards him and grabbed ahold of his arm.

“Please, do not hurt them anymore. We- We can all stop this madness,” she looked around at all of them with tears. “Let us all be family.” Aemond was so caught up in his own wrath he pushed the reader back so she wouldn’t get in his way.

He threw Luke to the ground after calling jace and Luke “Strongs.” Then throwing the younger boy to the ground. Jace pulled out a small knife and the reader gasp as they fought again, but the knife was thrown elsewhere.

She watched as Luke crawled to the knife with a interesting to hurt aemond so her body moved on its own. “Aemond!” Just as she shouted she was cut off with the sound of flesh being cut with his blade and gushing sounds. They watch the horror in front of their eyes go down. Blood rolling down her throat and gasped of failed attempts of air when she fell to the ground with her hands clawing at her own throat.

Luke dropped the knife and steps back in disbelief of what was happening. Aemond caught his sister and laid her down in his arms trying to stop the bleeding. “How could you! I’ll kill you! I’ll feed you to my dragon.” He started to cry as did the others.

“What’s going on here?” The guards shouted as the walked up on the children and soon realized the princess. They took her in their arms and sent for the maester and the king at once. Everyone soon garnered in the hall for what had happened.

Alicent screamed when she first saw her daughter and it was loud that everyone in the castle heard. Running to her daughter with tears in her eyes she started to move her hair out of the way as the maester worker. Viserys screamed at the guards to answer who had done it but he wasn’t expecting his own grandsons. Aemond sat at his mothers side while handing the readers hand. Healana looked at the ground with a sob. She had saw it in a nightmare once’s that felt so real, this exact moment.

The boys stayed back and far away. Luke not even daring to look at the reader knowing he caused her harm and pain. All of them wondering if she would be dead soon. Alicent was so focused she didn’t even pay attention to anything but the reader being life and to keep her that way.

When rhaenrya entered it was hell to pay. Reader had just got done with her stitches while still knocked out cold as her body tried to heal itself. “You,” Alicent screamed and pointed at the princess. “You’re filthy sons did this.” Rhaenrya had not see the reader yet as she looked at her sons. When her eyes looked onto the readers body her eyes went wide and looked back at her sons not believing a word.

“They did this?” She asked around the room as the boys tensioned up. “It’s true, jace brought the knife to the fight and his brother, Luke, did the deed.” Cole spiked with a snare. Luke tugged at his mother’s sleeves, “But I did not mean too. Aemond was going to kill jace! The reader got in the way.” All the children started to scream their own defense as everyone watched.

The king was mad but not at the children but at the guards for not doing their jobs. Saying this would have been avoided if they were watched closely. “She would not want us to fight and surely you all know it.” He turned to look at young Luke in the eyes. “I know you did not mean it boy, things can be forgiven.” Alicent looked at rhaenrya as she smiled softly and pull her sons behind herself and listened to Viserys plead of forgiveness and family.

“He deserves no forgiveness,” Alicent stood up and let go of your hand. “The knife was brought to the fight and one of our children could have been killed- Y/n almost died, or might not make it.” She inched closer with a glare and her hands made up into a fist. “Our little girls life being stolen can be..Forgiven?”

“It is what’s right! I love her with my heart but it has been decided, no more blood needs to be shed. Do not let your hatred blind you Alicent.” She stared at him as he spoke so calmly and started to walk away. Her eyes went to the dagger on his hip and her mind filled with red to see her daughter avenged. Moving quickly she took the blade from his side and held it up going for Luke.

“If you will not see to justice then I shall.” Rhaenrya pushes her sons back and caught Alicent before she got closer. They held each other, pushing and pulling to get what they wanted. “Another insult to my family and you get away with it? Just under falling under that pretty foot. It is not far, where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” Rhaenrya looked at the blade as it reflected off the fire light.

She was about to say something but a loud metal sound caught them off guard. They both looked back as the reader laid on the floor with her eyes open and reached out for them. Her head shaking as she tried to speak out but nothing was coming out. Aemond coming to her aid and helping her up but she had used her the rest of her strength to get out of the chair. Reader looked at her brother for help to help and speak her mind, pleading to do the right thing.

“No more blood shed mother.” His spoke but his eyes do not match his words. “She does not wish it.” Helaena came rushing down to her twins side and held her hand. Alicent looked back at rhaenrya one last time before pulling away and dropping the knife. Slowly inching back she looked around at her husband, only with anger and devastation.

Everyone was quiet as she ordered someone to carry her daughter out of the room with the maester. The kids walked with her and held onto their sisters hand as she fell back into a deep sleep. No one could speak a word as they all stood stocked.

For years that was the last time rhaenrya and her kids saw their aunt, along with Daemon. But letters where sent in private from the reader to all of them with updates and her forgiveness. But luke refuses to open and read them as his guilt rotted away at his soul. But each week for years new letters still came from her. The next time they all saw eachother, they all grown so much. But they all remembered the first acted of war.

One side trying to make amends and the other full of revenge.

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters realizing they’re in love with you

Gwens on the verge of tears, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her like this in all the time you’ve known her. You’ve known gwen for almost your entire life, and never once have you ever seen her in such a state of affairs.

You suppose it’s reasonable, she lost Peter and she thinks she lost her father forever, the only other people she ever had. And then there’s you. Somebody she felt such deep emotions for even if she was unaware how deep they ran.

There’s so many emotions and so many thoughts running through her head, when she sees you for the first time in what feels like years.

You don’t say anything.

You stare at her, the state she’s in.

Your movements are slow and meticulous, calculated. And she wonders if you’re doing that because you’re cautious, because you’re scared of her.

“I don’t know what dad told you.” fear drips from her vocal cords, “but I promise you,” she’s desperate, wanting your touch so badly but fearing you truly saw her as a monster too, “I would never, ever, kill Peter.”

the building you’re both on, feels so much darker than it really is. It feels like she’s revealing herself to her dad for the first time all over again. She wants to cave in on herself but she fights every need to push you away because she needs you in her life.

“And believe me, I wanted to tell you! I did! I really did!” she tries desperately to explain, finally letting a tear slip out.

As soon as she let one go, it became a waterfall of tears.

“I love you.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, taking you both by surprise.

She realizes what she said, but she doesn’t dwell on it for much longer. Because she realizes, finally, what she said was true.

And now that she finally knows what it is she’s truly been feeling for you all these years, it hurts even more to look at you and not know what you could possibly think about her. She wishes she knew what was going through your head, she wishes she could just tell what you were feeling by searching your face but she just can’t find anything. She doesn’t know what you make of this. She doesn’t know if she’s going to lose you today.

“Please.” she feels her lips wobble, she knows she’s going to completely break down if you don’t say something, anything, in the next minute.

All she’s met with is more silence.

Miles knew he had a crush on you, sure. That simply made sense, it was common knowledge to anyone that wasn’t an idiot. Well, except you. But miles didn’t think you were an idiot, just maybe oblivious. It’s not like he minded, he was grateful that he liked the one, singular person in this very world that was oblivious enough to not catch onto Miles’s adoration for you.

Miles talked about you a lot, admittedly. His parents were naturally happy he had found an actual friend that wasn’t away, that wasn’t ganke, and that clearly made him so happy. In fact, Rio mentions how she’s never seen her son so happy to talk about somebody. She had teased him a few times, and although miles tried to deny it, both her and Jeff knew he liked you a little bit more than a friend should. Though, a little bit is a stretch. He liked you a LOT more than a friend should.

And man, when you finally met them. Ohhh boy.

Miles had tried to prevent it for so long, in fear his parents would embarrass him, even worse if they didn’t like you. But he had been delaying the inevitable long enough, and the time had finally came.

In the past, Rio had teased him about being in love. Of course, miles denied the fact. He had a crush sure, but love? That’s a lot, isn’t it?

But seeing you interact with his parents, getting along with them so well. Even with his dad?

He just can’t stop staring, and while normally Rio would be concerned, she simply walks over to her son with a knowing smile.

“I think Im in love.”

“I know, mijo”

Hobie had a rough day, to say the least. Being spiderpunk, spiderman, was tough. And as much as he complained about it, he was perfectly content with the way he went on living. Especially since it had given him the power to protect you, and fight for his beliefs.

But regardless it was sometimes a painful experience, being spiderman. The gash on his side wasn’t too huge, but was deep enough to cause him pain anytime he walked. Swinging around wasn’t much better.

He decided to swing by your place, since it was closer to him and while he hated the idea of bothering you while he was in this state, hated the idea of worrying you, he knew it was the best option if he wanted to get back to fighting as quick and as painless as possible.

He lets himself in through the window, as always. He walks over to your hunched over form at your desk, peeking over. “Biochem?” he asked aloud, and you, unbothered, simply nod. “Yknow you should really start locking the window sweets.” he says with a grin, and while you’d normally be annoyed by his remarks, you notice a strain in his voice that makes you look up at him.

You’re quick to stand up, “hobie! Jesus what happened to you!?” you said, ushering him into your bathroom so that you can get your first aid kit.

He sits down on the toilet, before shrugging. “Stuff..”

you’ve fixed him up before, but this was a little different. There was a change in your demeanor. It wasn’t out of this world for you to worry for him, but this felt vastly different this time around.

You were so kind, so gentle with him.

In his mind, he’s undeserving.

The warmth of your hands on him, was the only thing he could think about. Not even the pain of literally being stabbed could compare to how electrifying your touch felt.

Perhaps it was the blue led lighting in your bathroom or the loss of blood but, you looked so beautiful right now.

“I think I love you.” he whispers quietly, staring into your eyes.

Staring back, you can’t help but think you love this idiot too.

Pavitr is an idiot when it comes to romance, whether he likes to act like he’s good at it or not. He is not as smooth as he pretends to be. He realizes this anytime he tries to shoot his shot at you. He fumbles with his words and has to come up with some excuse as to why he needs to leave in that exact moment, immediately. Even pretending to flirt with his best friend, gayatri, doesn’t work. He does it so well with her, but when it comes to you he just cannot articulate his words. He finds himself totally lost.

It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out his feelings for you are strong, and that his feelings go deeper beyond friendship. You seem to be the only moron in all of mumbattan that hasn’t noticed, and he’s not sure if he’s grateful or in great agony.

One of the biggest reasons he was so obvious about how he liked you, was shown through how clingy he was. Physical affection is his love language, after all. But it goes beyond that, he always finds himself wanting to spend time with you. He even insists on walking you home even when his house is in the opposite direction, his excuse being that he wants you to get home safely despite being in broad daylight. It’s still a dangerous world out there, is his reasoning.

But it’s been so long since he last walked you home. When you were kids, he did it all the time. As you grew older, the tradition seemed to stick but as he became spiderman this occurrence became less frequent. It’s been months since he’s been able to do this.

The sun is bright, but it hits your face perfectly. And he can’t help but think you look like some ethereal god. Given his line of work, he doesn’t think it would be that weird if you were one.

He feels like he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t even realize its cause he’s way too focused on you, every little feature. Your hair, eyes, your nose, cheeks, mouth. Anything he could possibly look at on your face, he’s looking. He’s not listening to a word you’re saying, he watches your lips move but he cannot catch a damn thing. The grip he has on his bookbag becomes tighter, his face feels hot and he wants to say it’s because of the sun but he knows that’s not true. God, has your laugh always been so pleasant to the human ears? Or was that just him?

His lips move, before he even has a chance to stop the words from coming out, like word vomit.

“God I love you”

[anundyingfidelity]

HAPPY MISTAKE — Logan Howlett

Summary: Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

(PART ONE → PART TWO) | GEN MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Logan x mutant!female!reader.

Word count: 9.6k.

Warnings: slow burn, breaking up(?)/making up, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut and unprotected everything, language, character death, time travel, Logan hurting reader unintentionally, wounds and blood. Logan being a whore for both Jean Grey and the reader. Reader has slow aging as Logan and looks around mid 30s in my head. Anthropology teacher!reader. Reader can manipulate light (just like Starlight from The Boys). This takes place between different movies from the franchise, from X-Men 1 to DoFP, so spoilers of the movies ahead.

Notes: Long time no write. Life is horrible but somehow I managed to get this in like two months. I love Logan so fucking much now you don't have an idea. This was also written with Happy Mistake by Lady Gaga in mind. If you'd like to be tagged in the second part let me know or let me know your thoughts on this, it's very much appreciated! I suffered a lot writing it .

𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒙 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆.

—

2000

“Need any help?”

Logan stopped on his tracks from wandering around the cozy, yet strange place he woke up in. Turning on his feet, he saw your figure standing in the middle of the hallway. He said nothing, but you approached him as you had known him for a very long time.

“I assume you’re the new guy-”

“Where is she?” Logan abruptly interrupted once you stood inches away from him.

“Rogue? She’s fine. And you need to take a little rest.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” he said, looking around to search for a nearby exit. Before he walked away you took his arm in a soft grip.

He was, as much as you could tell, surprised by your boldness. You gave him no time to process his next movements once you talked again, your voice firm and welcoming in a way he had never felt before.

“Please, you need to meet Professor Xavier,” you said. “At least before you go. It’s totally fine if you wanna leave, I don’t recommend it though, but we can offer you a safe place here. We are just like you.”

Logan’s hardened expression relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat coming from you. All he saw in your eyes wasn’t pity, nor anger at him being kind of an asshole at first. It was just authority, the good kind where he also had something to say and decide about.

“Whatcha say, Logan?”

He was so immersed in his thoughts before you called his name, thinking it sounded beautiful falling off your lips. You gave him a half smile as he took in each detail of your face, as if he was memorizing every part of it.

It was the first time someone had been nice to him and it felt strangely good.

For some reason, it felt very good coming from you.

—

Logan just found out from the Professor’s mouth the mansion was a school for mutants. Gifted people, he called them. After learning another powerful mutant was behind him and Rogue, he had no other choice but accept the shelter. He didn’t like the other guys better, playing the teacher with a bunch of teenagers with special or cursed abilities. But besides Storm and Jean, you were the person who had welcomed him the most, even showing him the place and the room he would stay in.

One late night, you sat at the dining table together. Logan was silently drinking a beer outside school hours so the kids wouldn’t see him, and you, reading a bunch of papers from your students that you were missing. He realized how hard you worked, how you would praise your students, how you talked to them outside classes, being the one to actually convince Rogue to enroll in the school. Immediately, he knew you were really something, having much more in common than he thought. And you, living for so long, being both a mutant and a lady for sure had a hard life through time.

“What you teach again?” he suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence you shared.

“Anthropology,” you answered, giving him a short glance. “I took this at college a long time ago, and I’ve been alive long enough to know a thing or two,” you explained, putting away a paper after putting an A+ on it proudly. “It’s important to understand ourselves, humankind and mutants… It’s a diverse world and there are lots of cultures, languages and societies we don’t get to know, but it’s beautiful. I think I like to celebrate what makes us unique. I've had the chance to study some of them around the world since I had the time, y’know, and it’s truly amazing. It’s a shame we have to fight between us to make us heard when we could just be kind and empathetic to each other… Sorry, you didn’t ask but, y’know, anyway.”

You shook your head with a curve on your lips, going back to the next paper. Logan had taken the sparks in your eyes as you talked. He half smiled to himself once you buried yourself in your papers again, thinking you sounded just like Professor Xavier. No wonder why he took you in. Probably, if things were different for him, he would’ve found something that could light his face with so much passion just like you did.

“Been alive for almost two hundred years,” Logan said and you looked up to him. “We might have things about the past to share,” he drank from his beer. It was your turn to smile back at him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived both horrible but nice things. Couldn’t read or do math without being called a witch,” you chuckled to yourself, but hiding on the inside the awful experiences you had to endure. “Someday, we could go out and grab a coffee or something,” you said with a playful smile.

A light chuckle left your lips, but you and him knew it wasn’t just a joke.

He joined you with a warm smile that lit up his face before disappearing from his lips. “Of course. Count me in.”

—

The sun was shining bright and the weather was great that morning. Some of the students were in the yard playing, having some quality time, and others simply just left to go to the town. It was a good weekend before the next semester started, and it was better now knowing Magneto had been taken to prison after his failed attempt to use Rogue for his plans.

Sipping on your coffee, you saw the students outside. Laughing, running, having a good breakfast picnic. It felt heartwarming just taking this sight, wishing it would always be like this. Your mindful peace was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen to have a coffee on his own. Visibly, you tensed just a little when he approached you and sat right in front of you at the dining table. The caffeine was not helping at all, you thought.

“Morning,” he greeted you, noticing something was off on you, but hoping it would pass. Maybe you already knew.

“Morning…” your voice came out as a whisper. “How you feeling?”

“Better. What about you?”

You gave a small nod. “Good, thanks for asking.”

A silence fell upon you. Not like the ones you used to share in lonely nights where you prepared your classes and Logan just sat down calmly because he couldn’t sleep. This time it was different. Words won’t come out of your mouth to ask what was really bothering you. You had grown up to like Logan and enjoy his company, but he had a lot of walls upon him, protecting himself of the world and people around him.

However, you understood why he did it. You both have been alive longer than anyone else. You saw people you love dearly dead, being killed because of your flaws. And you really connected to his idea of protecting people by leaving their side. It was better being away. That was until Professor Xavier recruited you. Here, you had a purpose and you helped young people to become the best versions of themselves. You wished Logan could do the same, stay and see he was more of what he thought of himself, but it wouldn’t happen. Right? He had things to sort out on his own.

“Are you leaving soon?”

When you asked the question, Logan knew you had heard something from the Professor. He gave you a nod.

“I need to reconnect with who I was,” he simply answered.

“Right… Wish you all the best there.”

Logan had grown to like you over the past few weeks you shared, exchanging experiences and lessons of life you had taken through the years. For a moment, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. He weirdly smiled, and you could swear he’d miss you too once he is away.

But that warm feeling soon faded away once Jean walked into the kitchen, saying good morning and beaming to the both of you. Logan followed her with his gaze, straightening himself on his seat as she served her own breakfast and an extra plate that you already knew was for Scott. She also began putting fruits and snacks inside a picnic basket while looking all happy and settled, and you knew why Logan had fallen in love with her. It was all over his face.

And you wondered how could he act and talk to you so kindly and sweet, and then look at Jean like that. It was a pain in your heart you tried to dissipate. Everyone knew Jean and Scott were a couple, and the fact that Logan had a not so secret crush on her really played on you. It made you feel like a fool and you had too many heartbreaks and hurted people, putting them in danger due to your mutation, to take initiative and start a relationship - or anything of the sort - again.

Scott made his way inside the kitchen, saying hi to both of you - mostly you. And took the tray with their plates as Jean grabbed the basket, but she let Scott leave the kitchen before.

“Have a good trip, Logan,” she said kindly. “I hope to see you around here soon.”

“Thank you, Jean.”

She smiled one last time before leaving you all alone, Logan following her with his eyes. Just for a second, you wished he could see you like that underneath his facade.

—

You had packed your stuff later that day, deciding a little air and a change for one night would do no wrong. Just as you were walking to the main door, Rogue was saying her goodbyes to Logan after giving him a small hug without really touching him. It was a cute sight how Rogue was able to step into his cold heart. She said goodbye to you as well before leaving the entrance.

“You’re going away too?” Logan asked, rather surprised as you both walked through the door, the sun hitting your skin as soon as you were out of the mansion. He knew your life was at the school.

“Just for the weekend,” you shrug it off.

Logan gave you a nod with a warm smile. “Then have a good trip and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I hope so too,” Logan answered and before he went to take Scott’s bike, he looked at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds. “We should go out and grab some coffee once I’m back.”

Your lips formed a wide smile. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, where time felt like hours and not seconds, you stood right out the door, looking at each other. You wanted him to go first, but he was waiting for you to say something. Probably to ride the bike with him, he could leave you somewhere near your destination and feel you close - just be around you for at least five more minutes. But none of that ever happened.

Instead, you studied his face, looking at his deep eyes, and then his lips - those lips you wanted to kiss so bad before, but never had the courage to do so. You didn’t think further, and if something had taken possession over you, you leaned towards him leaving a short, sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Take care,” you mumbled once you pulled away.

Not waiting for his answer, you turned back, pulling your bag to your side stronger than ever and walked the path to the front gates, feeling his gaze all over you until you left the mansion.

He felt such an idiot for not kissing you properly.

—

2003

‘I know what I want, but what do you want?’

Mystique’s words echoed through his head. Logan left the tent so long ago he didn’t know what time it was anymore and the situation kept repeating again and again in his mind. The woman had shifted between Jean, Ororo, and you. The one that icked him the most being Rogue once Mystique had taken her figure in. Storm was a good colleague, Jean was a forbidden love, Rogue was like his little sister, someone he would protect as long as he could, and you… you were a different case. When Mystique was about to kiss him wearing your figure, he finally realized he started feeling things he had prohibited himself for a very long time, and he thought he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Once or twice you shared experiences about love and partners, but he could tell it hurted you the same way as him. He couldn’t burden breaking your heart, or worse, getting you hurt because of what he was. Logan knew you had the same bad luck in the past, but it didn’t stop any of you to pull towards each other like a magnet.

‘Living for so long does things to you, Logan. I feel we become more aware of what we are.’

Those words you said to him one time remained in his head like a warning, and he took it personally.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against a hard tree trunk some feet away from the tents where the rest of the X-Men rested. He tried to find some peace alone for a few moments when the sounds of steps approaching alerted his senses. Claws out and ready to attack, he spun around the trunk only to stop in a second.

There you were, a bright light emanating from your hand to illuminate your path in the darkness of the woods.

“Logan?”

Quickly, he withdrew his claws and his body relaxed visibly. “Sorry,” he apologized, leaning against the tree one more time.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but you already knew the answer. The exhausted sigh he let out told you everything you needed. You let the soft glow of light floating between you and him, to illuminate both of you under the branches. “You wanna talk?”

He slowly shook his head, mumbling ‘no’. He became startled in the light floating like a firefly, letting his own issues wash away with your sole company. Ironically, everything that was troubling him was you. Softly, you caressed his arm, taking him out of his own thoughts. Your touch didn’t help his poor mind either.

Looking worried about the next mission in Lake Alkali, you feared for him and your team. And your lack of sleep was showing it. But just like Logan, the growing feelings were troubling your head. You had seen him talking with Jean earlier when you landed in the forest - talking too close to your liking once he pulled her for a kiss. But what could you do? Logan was still after Jean even when she had already declined him countless of times, and it didn’t really hurt you. It just felt strange inside. Why would he do that while still being nice to you, quitting being a dick when he wanted because he knew you’d snap back at him. And to be honest, Logan looked as if he liked that about you. But he won’t admit it out loud, and of course, you wouldn’t ask. Men were so damn complicated.

“Well, I only expect things to not get worse…” you finally said in a soft whisper since he wasn’t talking and you stopped your head going further on the matter. And you knew he wouldn’t talk soon either. “And you’re brave for seeking your past.”

Logan locked his eyes with your own, under the soft light. Your tired gaze, your figure, your aura pulling him like he found a treasure in an abandoned cave… He felt so bad for falling for someone like you, who was nothing compared to the crap he was. And then, for the first time in years, he decided to follow his instinct with you.

He leaned towards your figure, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently before pulling you in for a kiss. With a soft sigh you corresponded, your arms around his neck as it turned deeper and harsher. Logan lifted you easily from the ground, your legs tangling around his waist until you felt your back against a rough surface, trapped between the trunk and his body. Soft moans and grunts mingled, your chest pressing against his own, his hips grinding against your crotch. It was obvious you wanted this. Logan desired you so painfully after that day you kissed him goodbye at the mansion, he needed your body and soul. But you had to have answers before giving into the heat of the moment.

Pulling away, you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his own as you tried to catch your breath. Logan tried to taste you once again, but you placed two of your fingers on his swollen lips.

“Why’d you kiss her?”

He remained silent, brows furrowed and eyes blown in lust. You didn’t make any effort to pull him away. He still had you between his legs, asking a simple question he had no response for.

“We’re adults here, Logan. Just wanna know why before we go further.”

Logan started to remember. He vividly heard Jean and Mystique voicing out and asking the right question.

‘Girls flirt with the bad guy. They take the good guy home.’

‘What do you want?’

“Do you really want me?” he asked in return.

You lifted an eyebrow at his sudden question. “And do you?”

He leaned again for a kiss on your lips, and thankfully for him, you didn’t stop it. But he quickly pulled away and inhaled your sweet scent from the skin on your neck, leaving a path of soft pecks, until he nipped the shell of your ear softly. You shivered under his touch.

“I’d love to have you,” he whispered, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Come to my tent,” you mumbled. “Sleep with me. But like, seriously, sleep with me ‘cause I’m tired,” you chuckled, hoping to not kill the mood.

Logan smiled for a bit and nodded, pecking your lips one more time before helping you get on your feet on the muddy ground, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

“As long as I have you by my side it’s alright with me.”

—

Jean’s death was hard to swallow.

For weeks, students and teachers mourned her, and you felt sorry for Scott for losing his soulmate. Logan was not in the best shape either. He didn’t attend her funeral, he never had the guts to stand by her grave either, until now. You stopped right behind him and noticed him sighing, under the afternoon sunset. He was tense because of everything, but when you took his hand out of the pocket of his jacket, he held onto you. Your fingers intertwined together, feeling his life depending solely on you, like a rock he needed to support his whole weight.

The day was about to end, the sun slowly hiding, giving a beautiful painting of orange and purple in the sky. You thought it would soon become an intense thunderstorm due to Ororo’s mourn - something you had gotten used to the last few days.

“She saved us,” Logan barely mumbled, looking intensely at the grave.

You nodded, even if he could not see you. “Can’t blame her, I’d have done the same.”

Those words cause him to look back at you, wishing it’d be a lie. But inside, Logan knew you really had the guts to sacrifice yourself for others. It was something he remembered both of you talking about some time ago. And you would give everything in your hands to save the ones you love.

Quietly, Logan gave a last glance at Jean’s grave, and guided you inside the mansion. Classes barely started again due to the circumstances and a few kids could be seen around the halls. You accompanied him to the doors of his room, noticing you had been holding hands the whole time. Probably no one really cared, they were too busy trying to go through the grief of losing a loved one. Slowly, you broke the gesture, taking your hand away and Logan immediately missed the heat and comfort of your hand.

“Do you need anything?” you asked in a low voice.

Looking at you, Logan reminisced how you kissed in the woods, the need and lust for each other that couldn’t be. He did sleep in your tent that night, in the comfort of your arms, feeling the warmth of your skin. It was, probably, the first time he had a good, peaceful night of sleep in years. No one had brought that up, but he knew something was there. And he needed to act on it before it was too late.

So he brought up his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before planting a kiss on your lips, not caring he was standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see what was going on. You leaned against his touch, deepening the kiss until you couldn’t catch a breath. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead into yours, taking in the beauty of your bright eyes and swollen lips. Everything wandering his mind, making a path right into his cold heart was right in front of him.

“You.”

—

Knocking Professor Xavier's door, you walked inside as soon as his voice announced to come in. You caught your breath seeing Logan by his desk. He just gave you a quick, accomplice glimpse and left the room, closing the door behind. The exchange of glances wasn’t unnoticed by Charles.

“Here’s the report on my subject for this last semester, Professor,” you announced, leaving the folder on the wooden desk.

“Thank you. How’s Logan doing?” he asked all of a sudden, checking the door the man had crossed just seconds ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe he is comfortable helping the kids?” the old man asked again. He was seeing right through you, and you kind of hated every time he used to do that to you. Nothing could be hidden from Xavier; definitely you couldn’t hide a single thing for the man who took you in decades ago.

“Why would I know that?”

He shrugged it off. “Well, you seem very close lately.”

Close was not the best word to describe your relationship with Logan. Yet, you were sleeping on his bed just the night before. The trace of his kisses, the burn of his beard on your skin, his teeth biting softly your breasts, his rough hands all over your hips… Every touch he left on your body you could still feel it, and you wanted to think he was not just using you. During the past weeks, you were together. Not quite a relationship-thing was established properly, but it was the closest thing any of you could have as for now.

It was a mixture of grief, pain, and hope that had you both still standing. In the end, you understood what he felt. Being alone and alive for so long and then finding a place where people accepted you for who you were was a whole change, even if some years passed by. Though, the time Logan had been spending at the school was nothing but a blink of an eye compared to his past.

“What happened to our team is still affecting us,” you finally said. “I believe we are good friends, yes, we’ve been supporting each other. And he doesn’t know how to deal with the students yet most of the time, but I try to walk him through it.”

Xavier hummed, smiling at the corner of his lips as he eyed the folder you handed him. “I bet you both do.Thanks for bringing your report on time, as always, and I apologize if I am being intrusive. Just please be careful with the noises both of you make at night, we have kids around here.”

Shit.

You swallowed your pride right there and simply gave a nod, feeling the heat burning up your face.

“Will do, Professor.”

—

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you held for dear life on his broad shoulders, hips snapping against your own. His pace was reckless, keeping you on the edge of sin. Grunts mixed with sweet moans, skin hitting skin again and again every time you felt his cock inside you. If possible, your nails could have already left visible scars and marks on his back, scratching and bleeding off his skin as he fucked you senseless.

Logan sucked on the bare skin on your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling your walls clenching around his girth, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your hips as you moaned his name, over and over, under the moonlight. He looked at you intensely with loving eyes when you came underneath him, eyes flashing that familiar bright light every time a powerful orgasm hit your body. The vulnerable sight of your figure shaking, eyes closing slowly and biting your lip to keep the pretty noises low, made him reach the sweetest high.

With a grunt, he leaned to attack your lips in a heated, wet kiss to moan against your mouth. Logan pulled back to press butterfly kisses on your jaw, until he reached your breasts, feeling himself soften inside your wet heat. His hips were still thrusting just enough to fill you up at a gentle rhythm. Marking you his and only his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your chest. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

You chuckled softly, fingers tangling on his disheveled hair. You just had prepared a small date night out at the shores of a beautiful lake in the woods. No one could bother you if you were alone, and since your relationship was not so secret anymore, you needed him in a place that wasn’t the school. So here you were, laying on your back, fully naked on the picnic blanket, with the Wolverine between your legs, enjoying the calmness of the water, the green grass, the crickets singing around, and the cold of the night.

“Privacy perhaps?” you whispered as his eyes locked on yours.

Softly you touched his cheek with the palm of your hand and he rolled both of you over, until you laid on top of him, legs straddling his waist and your arms on his shoulders to sit on his lap. Silence took over, his hands soothing your hips and the marks he left on your body from the intense love-making.

“I’m so happy we took a couple of days off…”

You waited for Logan to say something. Anything. You wanted to continue, to tell him how you really felt. Instead, you decided it was better leaving it like this. Logan gave you a nod, pulling you for a short kiss.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He wanted to say it out loud, but was too scared to do so.

—

2006

After a couple of long years, the school and the team had to learn how to go through the grief and pain Jean left. Logan had a hard time processing it, just like all your teammates, specially Scott, and of course the students. It didn’t stop you from moving on as time went by though, always remembering her for the great person and mind she was. Going forward and keeping fighting is what she would’ve wanted for everyone, even now that a certain cure for mutants was announced to the public.

You tried to continue your life as a professor at the school, training students, leading young people, and you invited and encouraged Logan to do so countless times. Deep inside, you wished it was you the reason why Logan decided to stay and train young mutants - for you to be the answer to his loneliness. That he knew, for once and all, that he was not alone. You got each other, and you could do something about it. Words unspoken said more than anything, at least you thought so.

It was one of those rare nights where you got some time for yourselves, walking around the city after having a nice and calm dinner. Your shoulders brushed against each other while you walked downtown, your hands hiding inside the pockets of your jacket, protecting them from the cold.

There was a lot on your mind lately, thinking about what you two really were. If there was a stronger feeling in between, or if it was solely because he enjoyed your company and that was it. Both had lived enough to know there was a feeling in the middle. It wasn’t just friends with benefits, or co-workers who sleep together three times a week. Something was blooming deep inside you, but you tried to not give it a lot of attention all those years. Still, it felt like it had to be addressed sooner or later, and this could be the time. In the end, you understood each other perfectly. How painful it was, how living longer than anyone was, how you had to leave everything and everyone behind because you were dangerous…

“Have you ever wondered how’d it feel to have a normal life?” your question came out all of the sudden.

“How come?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t know if his gaze was judging you but you continued anyway.

“Like living a normal amount of years… Not having these things, genes that make us different. Or special…”

Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed your arm softly so you could lock eyes together as he asked. “You’re not thinking of getting that damn cure, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why’d you think that?”

“Because I never had anyone in my life, Logan,” you spat, pulling your arm away from his grip. “I’ve been alive for so long but I can’t promise myself a future. A real one. Not anything, it doesn’t matter if I live forever. Every person I loved before perished.”

Those words shook him out of the rough façade showing on his face. Your gaze told a hundred different stories when he studied your face every time. It was like mirroring himself at some point. You were the first person he ever got to know that has lived as long as he has, and maybe it was the sentimentalism, but he tried to push away those wishes of settling down. Of trying to be normal. Because he was not, and maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t accept it like he did. Probably, he was just giving up. But you weren’t, even after hundreds of years of disgrace continuously happening.

“I thought you’d get this, Logan.”

You mumbled, taking him out of his trance.

“Well, I do, in a way,” he said, but sounded more like an excuse for himself.

“Then why don’t you say it?”

“Wha-”

“Just say it,” you repeated and pointed between you and him. “What is this for you? What are we?”

Logan grabbed on your shoulders gently and leaned towards you, stealing a kiss on the sidewalk, a kiss you obliged with a bittersweet feeling for some reason, but then he whispered. “Darling, you’re everything to me now.”

Yet, you smiled and kissed him back, feeling his lips curve against your own. Well, that wasn’t so hard was it?

—

Needless to say, after the last date, your relationship with Logan had evolved to something more domestic, considering you lived together in your workplace. Affection, holding hands, quick kisses were shared now a little more freely, and you had received a couple of jokes and teases from some students and Storm. But it was fine as long as you had cleared your path with Logan, even if he didn’t act like a partner sometimes.

The certain calmness you felt one day disappeared when Logan and Ororo went to look for Scott, who often had these sad thoughts, and since Jean was his partner, it was thoroughly complicated for him to say the least. When Logan and Ororo came back to the mansion, it was not what you expected to see. Jean was alive and Scott was gone.

It hurted you, knowing first hand that their love wouldn’t be anymore. You met both of them when they were so young, becoming something like their mentor when they used to learn how to control their powers and how to fit in this world that loathed mutants to death. Now, the school was something else. It was a big, special place that was not the same without the brains of Jean, or the enthusiasm and leadership of Scott. Things were different, they had to change because the circumstances told so, and everyone had a difficult time adapting to it. One thing after another left you tired, with no option to run away, even if you wanted to. The complicated circumstances and the relationship you shared with Logan were no help either.

While on your way to check on Jean, who was still under observation after a couple of days, you stopped in your tracks when the heavy door of the med bay slid. Logan, looking all out of his daily self and mad, found you at the entrance, and you felt something different emanating from him.

For what you could see behind him, Jean was still asleep, and the Professor called Logan to come back with a serious voice, but he ignored the older man, instead approaching you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Logan grasped your arm, his tone lower and deeper than usual.

You quickly pulled off his grip and hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Jean.”

You felt silent. Of course she was anything he could think of since they found her.

“You knew he was controlling her,” Logan went on and your heart skipped a beat.

The look in your eyes told everything but lies. Logan scoffed and walked away, leaving you standing alone under Professor Xavier’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” you mumbled at your mentor before following Logan, trying to keep his pace until he reached his room.

The whole way you tried to keep it professional, greeting students as normally you would, but when you crossed his door it was impossible to continue with the facade.

“Logan-”

“He’s insane,” he snapped, putting his jacket on and taking his bag out.

“Everything that was done was meant to protect her,” you responded calmly as he placed a handful of clothes inside the bag.

“No, you did it because you are disgusting. I bet this is what should’ve been for me if I refused to cooperate with your circus or something.”

“You don’t know what she is capable of-”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna hear it anymore. This is so fucked up, even for you,” he continued, bag on his hand taking long strides until you were almost touching noses. 

You scoffed, trying to laugh at the irony. “What does that even mean? Do you know how horrible it is to be controlled by the Phoenix inside her?.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear another poor excuse. You continued anyway, looking straight in his eyes before he could leave you hanging with your own words. Exactly like he used to do every damn time when you had an argument. Today, he wouldn’t run away that fast.

“She could kill you in a second and won’t hesitate. For her, we’re nothing. We’re not rivals, we can’t do shit. The only thing we could do was keep her alter ego somewhere hiding inside her mind, or else we wouldn’t be here arguing about something you never witnessed. Because I did and you don’t wanna see that, trust me,” you spat at him. He breathed rage at your words and you knew that it was getting on his nerves seeing the way his hands turned to fists. “And you think this version of her cares for you? Or that she loves you? Jean is gone now, Logan, fucking get over it.”

With last harsh words, you turned around and left the room, closing the door with a thud. 

Logan breathed out. He wanted to scream, hit something, run away… Anything to let it out. He was a reckless mess but how could he react and accept Charles was playing with Jean’s mind? And you fucking knew all this time and didn’t say anything? Were his feelings dirty on him right now? Probably. Shit, he took years to finally tell you the truth about his love and affection towards you. He spent months trying to find the right words just to say ‘I love you’, and still, it seemed it wasn’t enough. The forbidden love he felt for Jean never disappeared, and he felt guilty for it.

—

You walked down to the med bay after calming down for a bit. You only needed to check on Jean for a moment and see how she was doing. Years prior, you had witnessed what the Phoenix was capable of, so you didn’t really question Charles’ methods when it came to hide this dangerous side of her inside her mind. You also thought your words might have been a little harsh on Logan, but it was the truth. He didn’t know who the Phoenix was and, if his feelings for Jean resurfaced after believing her being dead, then it wasn’t on you. As much as you loved him, as much as you tried and somehow managed to move on together, he was so easily dragged to her.

The anger you felt before took over you once again, as you found the metal doors of the lab in debris. Quickly, you made your way inside the room and found Jean wasn’t there and that Logan was lying unconscious on the floor. You knelt down by his side, calling him over and over and touching his face and shaking his shoulders until he finally opened his eyes slowly, coming back to reality.

“Logan, what happened?”

“She… she killed Scott. The Phoenix,” he whispered. You could tell he was a little weak and out of breath.

“You’re lucky she just ran away,” you pointed out, helping him to sit down. His eyes were lost in the mess in the room. Tools were destroyed, test tubes broken, crystal was everywhere, and Jean left the reminder of kissing him, yet again, before she escaped. God, he felt so idiotic.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking at you. “Sorry for being a jerk. It’s my fault.”

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find her.”

“Come here, we need to alert Charles,” you said, helping him to stand up.

Inside, you knew he wouldn’t really need your help. He was strong and indestructible like the metal on his skull, but he seemed really taken back, and you decided to stay by his side, holding his hand strongly as a way to say sorry as well. It was kind of difficult to see Logan in that state of mind, confused and lost, and you wondered what had happened back there in the lab as you left him in his bedroom, ordering him to rest for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him with loving eyes.

Logan nodded, following your figure stepping out the room and disappearing in the hallway.

He let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. His mind was having a hard time and his heart felt like breaking, going in two opposite directions, and he hated himself for that. His fate was always the same: losing people he loved and cared for dearly. So seeing Jean back again was as if god or anything up there remembered he existed and brought her back just for him. Or maybe he was just being selfish because he already had you.

You were everything for him. A couple of years might be just a short glimpse for both of you, but he was able to feel peace and calm next to you, and he was sure you did as well. Because some nights, that was all you could talk about. Logan didn’t mind hearing you for hours, it reminded him he was alive. With you, but his stupid instinct had to act.

It was his fault Jean had left. The kiss, the whole act of embracing each other’s bodies for at least two minutes, and then her breakdown, begging for him to kill her… All of that was enough to bring out the beast inside her. And he felt such a jerk now for following his desires. He already had you. Wasn’t that enough?

His thoughts were interrupted once you arrived again, finding him sitting at the end of the bed exactly as you had left him there. Sensing something different on him, you sat down by his side and rubbed his hand gently.

“We might know where she’s going,” you whispered.

“I’ll go,” Logan said before you could finish.

“I’m not sure if I should ask, but are you okay? You could do some rest,” you suggested, since seeing the redhead was clearly getting some kind of reaction from him.

“No, I need to go,” he said. But Logan could read your face perfectly, and he knew you didn’t really like the idea of him leaving the mansion. You turned your eyes, scanning the room and avoiding his gaze.

You had the need to ask what exactly had happened back there with Jean, but you didn’t want to start a fight either. Feeling Logan’s hand on your shoulder, he leaned to kiss your forehead goodbye. Maybe you were the one who should stay, check the kids, the school…

“It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, voice low and deep, as if trying to convince you, but himself as well. You nodded with your arms around his neck, giving him a hug that felt like some sort of apology you weren’t able to say out loud. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

And how you’d wish things would be fine.

—

The school has been very quiet lately. Too silent even for his taste. At nights like these, he could still feel the vigor and presence of the students running around, grabbing something to eat, planning to go out for a while... Instead, Logan found himself in a place that was mourning. Grieving the loss of Jean, Scott and Charles.

The feelings inside were complicated. He didn’t really feel the same, and the disgrace and remorse of his actions were growing on him. They were still haunting him; every day, every single night. You knew it too. It was impossible to ignore the nightmares each time he woke up from seeing Jean’s lifeless body fall against his own after he gave what she wished for the most: death.

And then, there was you. He noticed how difficult it was getting for you to sleep. You tried to hide your sorrow into your work, studying even more, keeping yourself busy with the school and not thinking about anything else. Since Charles was gone, Ororo took his place and you were her second hand. But you pushed yourself too hard.

Tonight he found your bedroom empty. He didn’t find you on his either, so he went to the place he knew you would be: your classroom. The door was half opened, the dim light of the lamp on your desk barely illuminated the papers on the surface. He found you deeply concentrated reading on something, hands on the sides of your head hiding your face.

“Hey,” he softly mumbled, stepping inside the empty classroom.

You quickly straightened yourself on the chair, wiping your cheeks and tried to look decent for a moment.

“Hey,” you replied back, low voice.

“Come to bed,” he said, coming to stand before you, his hand on your shoulder comforting and soothing you, making its way to the side of your neck. His big palm on your cheek, caressing the skin stained with your tears as if it was the most delicate thing. He took a look at the mess of papers and old books you loved too much to get rid of, scattered on the wooden surface.

“No, I- I can’t. Need to finish these by tomorrow…”

Logan gave you a nod and a grimace before taking your hand, motioning to come closer. You stood up, knowing he was trying to get you out of the work that was consuming you.

He observed every feature on your face, the sadness in your stare couldn’t be hidden. He just knew you too well, just like the palm of his hand, and he wanted to make you forget. At least for a little. You had taken care of him, helped him with your presence and your unique aura, bringing him comfort and peace to his broken mind. He wanted you to be fine. To feel loved.

Logan leaned just exactly to brush his lips with your own, teasing a kiss that he longed too much, his hands around your waist pulling you towards him.

“Can you just let me take care of you?” 

Swallowing hard the knot on your throat, you curled your lips as much as the grief let you. “Yes,” you nodded.

With this, Logan leaned until your lips connected. Your arms around his neck pulled him as closer as you could get, feeling his chest against your own, his strong hands around your waist, softly touching you above your clothes.

Logan slowly walked you until your back hit the desk, hands roaming on your ass down to your legs, placing you to sit down over the loose pages. It might ruin the work a little, but none of you cared. Everything in your head was him, between your legs, running his wet mouth down your jaw, his stubble burning your skin as you gasped gently. Lying on your back on the desk, he began descending down your breasts, unbuttoning your blouse until he exposed you to the cold of the room.

He stopped right on your trousers, and gave you a quick glance. You were so eager, wet already. He could sense it. Your eyes were glowing and you were already trying to catch your breath by just his kisses and touch.

“You locked the door?” you whispered.

“Damn right I did,” he voiced, hoarse and low voice from just thinking of railing you right there and then.

“Then don’t stop.”

At your command, he unzipped your trousers, letting them fall down along with your heels on the floor. He then leaned to take your lips in a sloppy kiss, more urgent this time of feeling you close. You moaned, nails scratching his skin. His calloused hands explored your bare legs and things, creating friction with his hips with slow, controlled thrusts against your crotch. Logan left a trail of kisses down to your breasts, licking and tasting the saltiness of your body.

You urged him to go down where you ached the most, hand tangling on his hair. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, spreading to him until his nose was almost buried on your panties, smelling and taking the sweetness of your scent, licking softly with his wet tongue over the fabric. A trail of moans and curses left your lips. He pulled your panties aside before diving in your pussy, licking your folds and teasing your hole with two of his fingers.

“Logan…”

His name repeatedly left your mouth like a plea, his fingers now inside you, stretching your walls for him. The noises grew obscene and nasty as he ate you out like a sweet craving he had been denying himself the pleasure for so long.

He was growing hard just by hearing your whimpers, and he needed you. You always were a fucking longing for him. Your words, your intelligence, your beauty… Everything he needed, you had it. And still, he didn’t have any idea of how such a rational, smart woman like you learned to love him so deeply.

You tugged on his hair, hips thrusting up to meet his growling mouth. You were so close, felt almost there where you wanted, but he pulled away before you finished.

Logan unzipped his jeans leaning back, admiring your blissed out eyes and glistened figure.

“Come here,” you begged in a whisper, tangling your legs around his waist.

He let out a low, dirty chuckle, feeling your hands on his boxers, freeing his erection.

“So fucking eager,” Logan breathed kissing your lips, hands supporting his weight at the sides of your head on the desk.

You tasted yourself within the kiss and you moaned at his words, your hand pumped him just enough to feel his pre cum leaking already, lining his dick with your cunt. Inch by inch, he entered slowly so you could get used to his size. Logan pecked your lips gently, kissing your cheeks and the side of your neck to get into your sensitive skin. You tugged on his white shirt so he could remove it and he ripped your bra apart right after. He loved to feel your chest pressed against his own. You gasped but paid no mind, instead urging him to move inside you.

“Shit, Logan please-”

A particular harsh trust caught your breath on your throat. You held onto dear life with your hands on his shoulders. He pounded into you rock hard and deep. So damn deep the desk was shrieking under, papers fell off and the lamp moved at the same rhythm but you hoped it won’t break.

Logan growled, inhaling your scent and tasting the sweat forming on your collarbone, your breasts bouncing against his chest. He felt your nails trailing down his back, and oh, how he wished he could get damn scars on just by fucking you like this. But the view of you, squirming under him, eyes closed, being a whimpering mess… All because of him. He was so insanely in love with your fucked out expression every time.

Your walls clenched, close to the sweet end. Logan felt himself twitching inside your warm pussy and his thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy. He filled you up, reaching his own climax first, hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Your pussy milked him all the way as he kept spliting you open until you let yourself go, legs trembling around his waist. 

For a moment, you stayed like this, with him kissing your shoulder and caressing your thigh, taking in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

“Thank you…”

Your whisper forced him to look up at you. There it was, that loving, sweet gaze you had reserved just for him.

He nodded, palm on your jaw holding you gently. “Of course…”

For some reason, he wanted to voice out for once those stupid three words.

I love you.

Or at least hoped you would do it first.

—

The night was cold under the moonlight, almost freezing. He wondered how he got trapped there, between the messy, withered shrubbery, fog, and the trees of a forest he never recalled knowing. He was alert, senses to the limit in case something might attack him. He felt as if he was being watched, but there were no eyes he could find around. He couldn’t see much like that.

But then a voice started to call his name from afar, claws coming out immediately as he sharpened his senses to find the owner. One, two, three times he heard, trying to find the person who was calling but there was only darkness. His heart skipped a beat when someone spoke behind him.

“Logan…”

He turned on his feet and he felt like dying again. “Jean?”

He withdrew his claws back immediately. The redhead smiled, coming closer until she touched his cheek with a soft hand before pulling away. “How are you, Logan?”

“What-”

“Are you happy now?” she asked, beaming brightly as if they were in a casual conversation instead of the darkness of the woods.

His brows furrowed. She couldn’t be real. She wasn’t there with him. Jean was gone, he had killed her because it was what she wanted. It was her way out to get what she needed; it was the key to her freedom…

“What do you mean?”

“With her… Be careful. You could kill her. Just like me,” Jean whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Logan stepped back, trying to get away. He shook his head in disbelief, not knowing exactly why Jean was saying this to him.

“No… You’re not real…”

“Everything you love is destined to death and chaos, Logan. You shouldn’t be there,” Jean continued, her eyes switching from her usual tone to a deep black. The ground began trembling under their feet with each step of her, wind building up around. Logan felt truly scared, but somehow he couldn’t run, just stand there as she approached. “All she will know is a life of suffering if you stay. She doesn’t need that.”

“Jean-”

“She doesn’t need you!”

“Jean!”

And then it happened so fast. His claws buried on her chest, the Phoenix disappearing and leaving her to die. Jean collapsed against his body and Logan reminisced about the events of that battle, where he had to choose to be selfish or liberate her from her own demons. Logan wasn’t sure why he stabbed her like this. And when he thought Jean was dead in his arms, she started to call his name again. This time, he heard it far away.

Logan.

Logan.

Logan…

Logan!

His eyes went wide open. And there you were, by his side on the bed, calling for him with a pain grimace on your face. His claws buried on your stomach.

“Logan…” you gasped and he pulled the claws out, but you were already bleeding, your nightshirt and the mattress stained.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“It’s okay,” you managed to say as he caressed your cheek before taking you in his arms hurriedly and quickly made the way out of your room through the halls. “The nightmares… I know, Logan…”

“God, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hank!” Logan stood outside the scientist’s door. “Hank, I need your help!”

The commotion caused some of the students to peek from their doors, and Logan waited outside what he felt it was forever under the gazes of the teenagers. It wasn’t the first time he had caused the same accident. The door opened, finally revealing a sleepy Hank putting his glasses on.

There was no need to explain what had happened.

—

“She’ll be stable soon,” Hank informed once he let Logan inside the med bay. “If you hadn’t brought her soon…”

Logan swallowed the knot on his throat, watching your unconscious figure on the stretcher. You already had received blood to cover up what you lost because of the wounds, and Logan’s claws were not minor weapons. His mind was a mess, confusion taking over. He didn’t know how he let this happen. He had nightmares pretty often, yes, but nothing like this.

Maybe Jean was right. Maybe she was trying to warn him about something. Or Jean was just trying to protect you from him. The last one felt more realistic. Logan wouldn’t hurt you, not ever. You talked about how dangerous it was to sleep together not so long ago, but you had insisted on staying. It was the first time something felt so damn real in his dreams and he wished you wouldn’t let him in your room that night…

“She’ll wake up, right?” Logan asked.

“Absolutely,” Hank nodded. “I will need to monitor her vital signs though, hopefully within a day or two she will be normal again… At least she’ll be stable until the wounds heal completely.”

Of course, Logan thought. You didn’t have a healing factor just like him.

“I’ll be right back,” Hank announced before stepping out of the room, leaving Logan alone.

He felt so guilty for doing this to you. For everything. For being the cause of your suffering now. He was a threat and mentally unstable. He was strong thanks to his genes, but he was weak on the inside. He promised countless times to protect you, but he couldn’t avoid hurting you himself. It didn’t matter that it was a very bad dream that felt disgustingly real, he had failed and hurted someone who truly loved. Again.

Taking your hand gently into his, he leaned to plant a kiss on your forehead, wishing it would be just another game from his mind.

But it wasn’t. Now, he had the person he loved the most lying unconscious and hurted because he would let his darkest thoughts consume him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching you sleep peacefully. “I should have said it sooner.”

-

PART TWO

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

"Hm, not that one. Dear, I think the last one was it. Perfectly traditional, without being stuffy," Winnifred insists.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your pick is everything you prefer. Simple and easy. Not uncomfortable. Not fussy laces or elaborate beading and endless skirts. Just a dress.

Of course, it wouldn't be good enough for a king. Nor his mother. You temper your disappointment. You assume that will need to become a habit. Your opinion, as always, is secondary.

"I suppose it it a bit plain," you agree, "sure. We can go with the last one."

"Are you sure?" Kitty pushes her shoulders up as she slides to the edge of the seat.

"Yes, it's fine," you assure her.

"Congratulations," the associate steps forward. "Shall we get you back in it?"

"No, you can just put in the order," you say. You are in no rush to have her ream on those laces again.

"Of course, you've had a long day," she agrees sheepishly, if not with a hint of surprise. Eight hours is a long day. Too long to spend in a shop. "You should ring the bell. Since you found your dress."

"The bell?" You question then glance over at the other women. "Okay."

The associate flits off and you stand listless in the dress you'll mourn with your previous life. When she returns, she has a big golden bell. She gives you a speech about your happy day and hands it over. You give it a jingle then just as quickly give it back.

"You sure you don't want to try it on again?" Winnifred asks.

You shake your head, "sorry, it's been a long few days."

"Oh, yes, our condolences," Rebecca intones. "Mother, I think Bucky might already have a few words for us for keeping his bride so long already."

"Yes, despite my best efforts, he can be a greedy little boy," Winnifred laughs.

You attempt a smile. You can imagine it's more of a quiver in your lips. Winnifred stands, the other women as well, your sisters hesitant. The three of you are cautiouslt wading through this new world. One where you're no long insignificant. The threat of your father's disapproval has been replaced by a greater one.

You did this. You and your selfish impulsivity. You could excuse yourself for fear or desperation, but you can blame yourself just as much for not thinking out the consequences. Not that you could ever guess they would involve a white gown and diamond ring.

There is some chatter as you are taken back to the lobby. Winnifred attends to the payment as you retreat in embarrassment. Your sisters exchange a none-so-subtle look of concern.

"Well then, girls," the matriarch turns with an accomplished sigh, "allow us to escort you love bridesmaids home." She declares, "I believe you," she stops in front of you and takes your hand, "are due to meet your beloved. Do tell my son I send my tidings. Certainly it won't be long until I might do so myself."

Your sisters stir nervously. You glance at them and nod. Just do what you're told. It's always been the best strategy.

"That's very kind of you,, Winnifred," Kitty speaks first.

"Ah not at all, I should like to see your side of town. I am painfully nosy, though I might paint it as curiousity," she lets you go. "And you might give me some insight into my future daughter. She is rather enigmatic thus far."

You wince. Of course, it all methodical. You claim your jackets and emerge outside. Wanda, Rebecca, and Natasha claim one car, your sisters and Winnifred the next, and another idles as you approach.

The driver comes around and pulls open the door. You hate that. It feels as if you are a puppet on strings. You move to the tugs and tweaks of Barnes' all reaching hand.

You lower yourself onto the seat, peering on ahead of you, and hesitate before you slide in. You don't expect him to be waiting for you there. The door closes as you shift further in. Barnes' takes your hand before you can settle and kisses your knuckle above the ostentatious stone setting.

"Doll," he purrs.

"Barnes," you greet plaintively.

"Ah, you don't gotta be like that," he drawls as he clings to your hand, his thumb feeling the stones.

"Sorry," you nibble your lip. "I'm only tired."

"Yes, I hope you found something," he says. "Ladies and their dresses."

"Mm, yes," you affirm.

He tuts, "you don't sound very excited."

"Not sure I'm fit to wear white..." you mutter.

"Doesn't bother me, doll. We've both lived lives before we met--"

"Not that," you interject, surprisingly yourself at your curtness. "You know why."

He inhales deeply and sighs, "he got all he had coming. We both know that."

"Yes, but it was me...." you trail off and shrug.

You sense him watching you. You stare ahead and swallow down all those confusing emotions. "It's done, I suppose."

"I respect the apathy, doll, but you don't gotta play cool with me," he insists.

"I don't give-- I don't care about him."

He nods and gives a thoughtful im, "your sisters. Have I not proven myself to you? I told you I'd see to them, I'm a man of my word.”

“I believe it,” you resign. “It's… a lot. I don't think I'm what you think. I don't think I can do this.” You slump in defeat. “I'm not what you're looking for. You've made a bad choice.”

“Hmph,” he scoffs. “That you even got the guts to tell me so shows me you're wrong. You don't know how right you are for me, doll.”

He snakes his arm behind you and pulls you close. “Now you're not gonna roll over and show your belly. Not if you're my woman.”

“I'm not…”

“We were both in that warehouse,” he lowers his voice as his fingertips curl into your hip. His other hand brushes over your lap. “You did what needed to be done. Just like today. Just like yesterday. Every step of the way You've shown me exactly what you say you're not.”

“Bucky, I just wanted to be free,” you latch onto his forearm. “That's all–”

“You're free. And safe. You know what I'd do for you, doll? What I'll do to keep you safe? Happy? To keep you mine.” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, “that's the one thing about me you haven't figured out. I'm stubborn. I put my mind to something and I do it. Exactly what you did when you showed up battered and begging–”

“Please,” you rasp and his nose tickles down your cheek and he dips down to kiss your neck. His lips and beard send a tingle through you.

“On my honour, you'll never look like that again. You'll never be bruised and the hand that dares to lay a single blemish on you will be cut off,” he nips your skin.

The tenor of his voice brooks no doubt nor the tight grip his keeps on your thigh. His hot breath blooms around your neck and he growls. You made a deal with the devil and now he's come to collect.

[247-diaperboy]

Trapped in Diapers Part 6

That was a tough day at work for me, I could not stop thinking I wet my bed like a baby with no control and I really needed diapers again. Which I had conflicting thoughts about, it was also a real big turn on to me. So much so I went to the restroom on my lunch hour and entered a stall and unzipped my jeans and began masturbating myself through my diapers and teddy bear print plastic baby pants thinking what a big baby I had become, wetting my bed with no control. Saying repeatedly to myself I'm a baby and belong in diapers. There I stood Mr. tough construction dude with his pants pulled downplaying with myself in my baby plastic pants and diapers, feeling like a 2-year-old. Eventually ''exploding'' globs of my baby load into my diapers, then pulling up my jeans and returning to work. I was thinking that afternoon when I use to jerk off in my diapers, I could not stand wearing them afterwards. But now when I was done, I really felt I belonged in diapers and had no desire to get out of them. Yes, Daddy was making me wear them but somehow, I no longer minded I wanted to wear diapers all the time now, I can't get enough of my diapers to be honest.

Then on one weekend I spent with Daddy it all sunk in what had happen to me. At the end of the weekend, he went to change me, and daddy did not put a fresh diaper on me, he told me to get dressed no diapers. He gave me all the pictures and the video and said do as you wish with them. Adding he'd NEVER would have actually used them it was just to help to keep me from resisting. I felt very confused and a sense of panic thinking the game was all over. Then out of nowhere I blurted, Daddy PLEASE DADDY DIAPER ME, I BELONG IN DIAPERS, I LOVE DIAPERS. Please!!!!! Daddy just stood there and did not say a word. I'm thinking I couldn't believe I was pleating with Daddy to put me back in diapers. Daddy smiled with a big grin and said of course I will put you in diapers that's where you belong. I asked why he had a big grin on his face, he smiled and looked me in the eye and said Well my little experiment worked. I asked what experiment Daddy? Well baby boy I used psyco sexual reinforcement on you. To get you to bond with your diapers so you desired to want to wear them more and more. I basically used sexual reconditioning to make you fall in love with your diapers as your main focus of sex daily for months. By making you masturbate in your diapers so much your brain got the message sex with your diapers makes you feel good. Which also gave you the message wearing diapers feels good, giving you a strong desire to want to wear diapers 24/7. The good or bad news is depending how you see it, once it’s been blue printed on to your subconscious, it’s almost impossible to reverse.

Diapers ''forever'' Baby Boy, remember, it’s what you asked for. As Daddy took me to the nursery it all sunk in, I had fallen in love with my diapers. I haven't had gay sex besides some light play with Daddy in months and become obsessed with wearing, using and humping my diapers and being a diaper boy. As Daddy thickly diapered me and slid my Disney waterproof baby pants up my legs, I once again felt good and of course my dick got rock hard. It's been 6 years since that first day I met Daddy and now wear 24/7, a total bedwetter and no longer able to achieve an orgasm outside my diapers or even care to. Nothing turns me on more than the soft warm, wet bulkiness between my legs and the crinkle sound when I hump and cream my wet diapers. I've come to grips with accepting and loving my diapers to the point even close friends outside the diaper scene know all about me wearing and I'm amazed most of them accepted it. Funny thing is before I told most of them, a few had mentioned how happy and relaxed I seemed over the past months, inquiring maybe I had a boyfriend. What can I say I'm a diaper boy and love my diapers they make me happy. I'm trapped in diapers "Forever".

[elllisaaa]

no nut november - hwang hyunjin (1st to lose)

-> pairing : hyunjin x fem!reader

-> words count : 2,6k

-> genre : smut, etablished relation

-> warnings : slight pussydrunk!hyunjin, sending nudes, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, marking, oral (f. receiving), fingering, creampie, use of 'good girl', nipple play, begging + the way i'm depicting hyunjin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

When all the members agreed to this stupid bet, Hyunjin was determined not to lose, or at least, not to lose before Jisung. Everyone knew both of them would be the first to be out, it was obvious, but he had his pride. He just wanted to not be the first to lose. Because he had a bit of consciousness left ; his sex drive was too high to not do anything for a whole month, but one week, maybe he could handle it. 

He didn’t text you right away, thinking about all the things he had to do and that he would see you tonight ; he’ll tell you at this moment. But when he got home, you were not here, just a note saying you were spending the night at your best friend's because she wasn’t feeling well. Hyunjin didn’t think much of it, going on about his day casually texting with you. He didn’t recall the bet once because they had all agreed not to talk about it in order not to disturb them while they were working. 

It’s only when, three days after the agreement was made, you sent him a picture of you, wearing only your underwear, that he realized he totally forgot to tell you. He came very late last night and just wanted to sleep. And you left very early in the morning, which didn’t give him a chance to address a word to you. 

Hyunjin gulped loudly, closing his eyes and trying to think about all the most disgusting things he knew, just to stop the memories of you and your sweet voice moaning his name coming back into his mind. But it was too late. He had a bonner, and all he wanted was to came back home and fuck you. 

He resumed practicing his choreo, but all he was thinking about was you. Your face when he gave you what you wanted, your moans when he got down on you, your mouth wrapped around his cock, your tight little cunt that he was just wishing to be buried into right now. And all of that didn’t help him to calm down, nor the fact that you were actually still wearing only your underwear when he stepped into your apartment. He knew you were more comfortable like that when you were alone but you always put something back on before he got home - or you would end up fucking like bunnies everytime. But he came back earlier and the sight in front of his eyes was very, very tempting. 

“- Baby… Why are you doing this to me ?”

You turned around with a grin on your face, letting the meal you were cooking warm up behind you, still not aware of how difficult you were making it for him to keep his calm. 

“- Doing what ? Thought you liked it…”

You stopped the gas under your pot before stepping closer to him, noticing how tense his jaw was. 

“- Are you alright Jinnie ?

- Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. You’re just… I can’t resist.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his compliment. You always liked men being vocal about how much you were driving them crazy, and Hyunjin just reinforced that by telling you everything that crossed his mind at every moment. 

“- Why would you have to resist though ? I’m here to please you.”

You smiled once again, finally reaching him and pecking his lips, making him gasp and going stiff. 

“- I… Me and the boys made a bet.”

You frowned and tilted your head to the side, wondering which dumb shit it was this time, and if it was coming from your boyfriend or Jisung. 

“- And what is it ?

- No nut november.”

The laugh that escaped your lips was so loud that Hyunjin was torn between finding your smile beautiful and feeling vexed that you thought he was so bad at controlling himself. The pout on his face told you exactly that when you were finally able to look at him again. You put your hands on his cheeks, still smiling from ear to ear. 

“- And you agreed ?

- Yeah, why ?

- Baby… We both know that you won’t last a week in this. You’re so hard right now, and I haven’t done anything yet.”

Hyunjikn groaned, closing his eyes to stop himself from looking at your thighs, and your lips, and your whole body. Still, you were absolutely right. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but he thought he was stronger than that. While he was thinking, you started to run your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheeks but never his lips. 

“- So ? Am I still “so in for it” or not ?”

He thought about it for a moment. Yes, he would never hear the end of it if he lost on the third day, and Jisung’s ego will get even bigger. But what was the point ? He didn’t want not to touch you for a month when you were literally his stress reliever. 

Without saying a word nor answering to you, he put his hands on your hips and his lips on yours, making you smile into your passionate kiss. He gave up so much more easily than you thought, but you weren’t going to complain. Hyunjin broke the kiss just to let his eyes wander all over your half-naked body. 

“- Like what you see ?”

He licked his lips, his hands sliding from your hips to your ass with a grin on his face. And even if you should be used to it, the fact that he was effortlessly so hot still made a shiver run down your spine.

“- So much… Makes me want to fuck you right now.”

Your own hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, your fingers running across his warm skin. And it was driving him crazy. It’s been three days since he had felt your touch for the last time, and he didn’t want to contain himself any more. It’s already been too long for him. 

Hyunjin pushed your hips into his, letting you feel his hard cock under his clothes, and kissed you once again. You could feel his heated skin through his still clothed body. And that was driving you insane. You could make fun of Hyunjin all you wanted, but you knew you were not any better. You couldn’t have resisted him more than he did. Your sex drive was as high as his, but you were grateful he gave in first - wouldn’t have been good for your image. 

Soon enough, you felt Hyunjin’s tongue licking your lips, and you opened your mouth with a little whimper, kissing him hungrily while your hands were gripping his shirt, forcing him to break the kiss to take it off. You stepped back and settled on top of the kitchen’s counter, and then pulled Hyunjin between your legs, your face inches away from his. 

“- Then fuck me Jinnie… I want you so bad…”

And that did it for him. Hyunjin let his head fall into your neck, sucking on it, licking it, biting it, and making you moan and tug his hair in your fingers. His own hand already found the clip of your bra and took it off. His lips traced a trail from your neck to your nipples that he quickly took in his mouth, getting you to whine his name and grip tightly at his roots. 

“- I missed feeling your skin…”

You smiled at how innocent this comment was even though Hyunjin was playing with your breast, and that his lips were making their way to your soaked panties. Your boyfriend was always eager to eat you out. Of course he loved it when you sucked him off, but he could spend hours between your legs without getting tired of your taste, or the noise you were making every time he did. And well, you couldn’t protest when he was this good with his mouth. 

Hyunjin kept eye contact with you while he slowly took off your panties. He threw them away somewhere in the room, kissing your inner thighs and making his way to your cunt. You sighed, relaxing completely under his touch, spreading your legs wide and tugging at his hair. When he finally put his mouth on your clit, you moaned and closed your eyes shut, the familiar rush of pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“- God… I wouldn’t have survived one month without your mouth on me…”

Hyunjin chuckled against you, sending vibrations that made you shiver. He stuck his tongue out, practically making out with your clit as you were clenching around nothing, whining and grinding against his face.

“- You really love tasting me baby, don’t you… ?”

You let out a shaky breath when your boyfriend pressed a finger against your entrance, teasing you a bit before pushing it between your folds and making you moan loudly. He didn’t stop licking you all this time, a mix of his saliva and your juices dripping down from your cunt to the counter beneath you. 

“- Yeah… Pussy drunk are you ? Of course you are… Look at you baby, face buried into me like you didn’t eat me out just three days ago…”

As much as you liked teasing him, it was getting difficult to even think of a single thing, and your words were quickly replaced by never ending and louder moans each time his now two fingers pressed against your sweet spot. You just stopped talking for a while, the heat in your body starting to get unbearable. 

“- Jinnie… P-Please… A little more… Just n-need… More…”

Hyunjin almost whined at you begging for him, for his tongue and fingers to give you what you were waiting for. Your hands were gripping his hair tight, and he could have come untouched just from the feeling and the view of your blissed out face. But he wanted to be in you so bad, he just pressed his tongue harder on your clit, overstimulating you a bit while you were coming just for him. 

He let you come back from your orgasm while he was wiping off your juices that dripped on his chin. Hyunjin smiled at you when you opened your eyes, looking so fucked out he just wanted to burry himself deep in you. 

“- Wouldn’t survive a month without eating you out…”

You heard his mumbled words and it made you laugh : you two were definitely not made for this type of challenge, but it didn’t even cross your mind as you kissed Hyunjin and your hands were sliding his pants down his thighs, his boxer following quickly. 

“- Want you in me…”

You were asking for it so sweetly, how could he say no to you ? (and yes, he had convinced himself that he caved in only because you were looking really gorgeous, not because he couldn’t hold back anymore.) Hyunjin guided his cock to your cunt, letting only the tip slide into you. 

“- How much do you want it love ? Tell me… ”

He liked to tease you just before entering you, just before he couldn’t tease anymore because he was always too far gone in your warm, tight, wet cunt. He was crazy over you, over this feeling. But at the same time, he couldn’t resist the urge to hear you beg for him, for his cock one more time. 

“- P-Please… 

- Please what ?

- Want your dick in me… Want you to be rough…

- That’s my good girl…"

You almost cried at the feeling of him entering you fully, making you feel on the verge of tears from the overwhelming feeling of his warm body against yours. Hyunjin’s lips were only inches from yours and you leaned in to kiss him hungrily while he was putting his hands on your waist and started to move back and forth. Both your moans were muffled by your messy kisses, feeling saliva drip from your mouth to your chin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when his dick in you felt like heaven. 

“- Shit… You’re so tight love… 

- Just for you… For your big cock…

- Yeah ? Big enough for your little wet cunt ?

- Fuck ! Yes… Don’t stop… C-Close…”

As your second orgasm was approaching, you started to lose your words, only capable of letting out some words here and there, and rutting your hips against Hyunjin. You nuzzled your face into his neck, muffling your moans against the sensitive skin, making your boyfriend shiver, loving to be so close to him, even though his pace was all but romantic. 

“- Gonna cum love ?

- Y-Yeah… Keep going p-please…”

Hyunjin sped up the rhythm of his hips, feeling you getting tighter with each thrusts, then getting sloppier and messier, telling you he was also almost there too. You also knew he liked to be praised when he was about to come. So you did just that.

“- You’re making me feel so good baby, so full… Love it when you lose control like this, just for me… You’re going to make me come with your big dick…”

Your boyfriend moaned against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours and his fingers digging into the skin of your hips so deep you hesitated between whining in pleasure or in pain. 

“- Ah- So good for me Hyunjin… Want you to fill me up… Come on, give it to me…”

“- Baby… Fuck !”

And that did it for Hyunjin. It only took him a couple more thrusts before he reached his high, cumming hard inside of you. And the feeling of his hot seed spilling in your cunt pushed you over the edge too, crying out in pleasure, joining the fucked out songs your boyfriend was letting out as he continued moving until it all started to feel too much. 

Both of you needed a moment to come back to reality, looking each other in the eyes and smiling softly before sharing a sweet kiss. You sighed, leaning totally against Hyunjin’s firm body while he stocked your back softly. You didn’t know what was to gain if he won the bet, but judging by your actual state, you didn’t care much, rather not at all. 

“- Go to the shower baby, I’ll warm up our meal and we could watch the drama we started last time. How’s that sound ?

- Perfect. I love you so much…”

You giggled before kissing him and muttering an “I love you too” against his lips. You pushed him away from you, just so you could get down off of the counter and put back your underwear, preventing his cum from spilling out of you and dripping down your thighs. Hyunjin stared at you, frowning and you understood something was bothering him.

“- What ?

- Sure you don’t need help to clean up ?

- Yes, I’m sure. I can do that myself, and I know you need your shower after work.”

Hyunjin took you in by your waist to kiss you before gathering his spare clothes on the floor and getting to the bathroom. Once there, he took his phone out of his pants, sending a message in the group chat.

Hyunjin shutted his phone off for the night, wanting to enjoy this moment with his sweet girlfriend that he could have whenever he wanted while the other would have to contain themselves. And for him, that was the real victory.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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[levemetal]

My work for the Qijiu Secret Santa!

Giftee had multiple prompts but I ended up on"SJ didn't end up on CQ. Their reunion is different than in canon."

Anyway I am now 47384 layers deep into hell another Qijiu AU so more under the cut if you wish to dive in.

So essentially the AU starts simple enough: Everything is the same as in canon, except SJ never makes it out alive out of the Qiu Manor fire. Too embittered and angry to die, he becomes a ghost and sets out to do what he does best, which is survive and claw his way to a spot where he can be safe and not fear others as much. So he becomes a calamity ghost.

On his adventures to find Yue Qi (or what remains of him), he comes across Ning Yingying, Ming Fan and Luo Binghe at different times. Against all odds they stick with him and he doesn't hate it. It's nice to have company even if he reasons the dead are probably not the best company for kids. But he can't just leave them to the slavers. So they are now adopted and his lil ducklings. He finds they are equally unhinged as he is very quickly. The reason they look similar to him here with the veil and all is cause they wanna look like A-die :3 Bingus’s seal gets accidentally destroyed when SJ senses something odd about the boy when meeting him and whoops. Well there goes the seal. Guess they have to take him along now (not that NYY and MF were gonna let him leave without taking Bingo along). I figure this probably has good consequences on Bongo’s self confidence issues as he would learn early on that being half demon does not mean he’s evil. Afterall his A-die is literally a ghost.

YQY still becomes sect leader, albeit a very, very depressed one. He killed Wu Yanzi at the IAC but SJ wasn't there this time. He wants to die but is stopped at every corner by either his Shizun or fellow sect siblings. A few years later, at one of the disciple selections, he sees a boy with a strong resemblance to SJ and picks him up immediately, hoping him to be either a relative or reincarnation. Either way, that's his son and sole reason for living now. Said son is the transmigrated Shen Yuan who is very much confused about the current state of the plot (wdym SQQ is not there?? Who is that QJPL? Where's Binghe??)

Anyway the ducklings weren't necessary but happened anyway so. Figured I'd mention them. One day Yqy goes on a nighthunt with Shen Yuan which then leads them into Ghost City by accident. And lo and behold who he runs into.

They reunite, probably take a while to sort their shit out and now Yqy's sect siblings just gotta deal with Zhangmen-Shixiong having an emotional support calamity ghost and husband and 3 new kids. (Mqf counts this as a net positive since at least he doesn't have to guard Yqy's sword anymore lest his shixiong pulls it out. Liu Qingge is Conflicted and takes a bit to get the memo. He DOES enjoy sparring with the calamity tho eventually.)

Apologies for recycling my one calamity SJ design but I am perpetually tired and couldn't think of anything different. And I am sorry for once again making a calamity SJ AU. I notice a pattern. Unfortunately I possess no illusions of having any control over my life.

Maybe one day I get around to fic writing I'll write this and the 37288483 AUs I have... but first, bonus sketches:

[munsonismymuse]

Steve hates very much to be called "Steven" not even as a joke, he has not talked about it with anyone but implicitly everyone senses it in some way or another and therefore they do not call him that way, it is always Steve or Harrington or some nickname. That's because when his parents called him that it was because they were incredibly angry or drunk and therefore punished him in horrible ways, when they called him Steven he usually ended up getting beaten up. When they called him Steven in public it was enough to make him freeze and make him shiver, eventually he would be silent and terrified for the rest of the evening.

Now being older if someone calls him Steven, he immediately assumes they are fighting with him or that he did something wrong and depending on the situation or the person he will react with sadness or anger, for example, when Tommy called him Steven, it ended in a awful fist fight. It really makes him feel very bad, in recent years sadness is what he felt the most when he hears his name, because it hurts him too much to disappoint the people he loves.

Eddie doesn't know it, but he doesn't call him Steven either, it's always a nickname or Stevie, or Steve or even Harrington. Until one night, when they were in Steve's room kissing fiercely and passionately, Steve was under him doing whatever it took to feel Eddie rubbing his skin, between gasps and accelerated breaths, every little movement Eddie made or every little touch Steve felt, he reacted effusively with his whole body shuddering, he was and felt hypersensitive, he couldn't keep still.

"Steven" Eddie whispered with softness and a beautiful smile, Steve looked at him surprised. "Stay still, I need to take your clothes off, love"

Steve loved that. It was the first time someone pronounced his name with such love. He stood for a few seconds, processing what was happening. He began to shake in anticipation of what Eddie might give him. His brain was short-circuited, and all he could think of was Eddie calling him "Steven" with that authority and that beautiful softness that only he had. He felt loved.

"Are you okay? Do you want us to stop?"

Steve took a few seconds to appreciate him, ran his face gently, because the words wouldn't come out even though they were in his throat. He was always silent when he shouldn't be but he couldn't help it.

Eddie kissed the hand that was on his face, not intending to go any further, and Steve melted once again, he wanted to speak and express loudly the pleasure the other boy was making him feel but he couldn't. Instead, he took Eddie's hand and directed it to his pants to make him feel what he had provoked, to make him understand that he didn't want to stop.

"No, I don't want to stop" Steve said as he sat on Eddie's lap. "Call me Steven again, just you, just you Eddie, call me love, baby, tell me I'm your princess and never stop"

Steve was incredibly loud that night, moving his hips against Eddie's lap, trying to fuck himself harder, deeper. He spoke his name softly and lovingly, until he began to cry, begged for more as tears flooded his face. Eddie held him tight with his arms to keep him right where he wanted him but also to keep him safe to hold him as he released a weight he seemed to be carrying for years.

Eddie couldn't utter a word, it was unbelievable. Eddie was always loud and Steve was quieter, but in the dark, in the security of their love, Steve could be whatever he wanted and could act however he wanted, so he was being loud as he wished because in Eddie's arms no one could punish him.

"You're such a good boy, don't you?" Eddie says softly.

"Yeah?" Steve asks as he chases Eddie, he moans loudly as Eddie once again hits that place on his body, his mouth stays open as he moves on Eddie, soft sounds keep coming out of his mouth, he closes his eyes, because he can feel Eddie all over his body, even though he moves slowly.

"Yeah. You're so sweet, my baby boy, I can't even explain how much I love you, princess"

Steve smiles with his eyes closed. He looked precious, his cheeks were flushed, his lips red, and somehow the tears made him incredibly beautiful.

....

Steve still hates being called that, he finally confessed it to Eddie but also gave him permission to call him that on special occasions. Plus, he told him that he would love to tell his parents what he does with the traumas they caused him. Because now every time he's called Steven it's because he's loved, because he's revered and because he's being fucked incredibly well.

Steve get his name back, Steven belonged to him and Eddie.