#because i seem to have unlocked weeding as an action

[ghirahimbo]

after years of turning all my sims into gardeners, today I finally get to start one of my own 😊

[domjaehyun]

the boy is mine (l.dh) — part six

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader GENRES. smut, angst WORD COUNT. 8.6k CONTENTS. infidelity, alcohol & weed consumption (MC is a non-smoker if that matters to you), explicit smut (dirty talk, fingering, finger sucking, oral (receiving), rimming (receiving), groping/frottage, marking, spit play, (brief) ear play, breast play, creampies/unprotected sex (if you explicitly need me, a stranger on the internet, to tell you not to fuck raw, you are not responsible enough to be reading this. move along now), snowballing, public sex, car sex, riding, bratty dom-leaning switch!haechan, bratty sub-leaning switch!reader, sweet dom!jeno, face riding, handjob, overstimulation (receiving), praise kink (receiving), light degradation kink (giving), mating press, morning sex) NOTES. here’s part six! thank you so much for reading this far!!! i hope you enjoy it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :) i would also greatly appreciate tips if you really liked it :3 THANK YOU LIKE THE HUUUUUGEST THANK YOU TO BRI (@jalitepng) FOR BETA READING THIS BIG OL FIC :D  PLAYLIST. the boy is mine - ariana grande // fantasize - ariana grande (unreleased) // lowkey (feat. erykah badu) - teyana taylor // agora hills - doja cat // pussy is mine - miguel // softest touch - khalid // cut - tori kelly // seatbelt - josh levi // often - doja cat // surrender - nbdy

You wake up abruptly to the sound of your phone ringing, and you reach over to answer the call, bringing the device to your ear. “Hello?” you rasp out, groggy as can be.

“Thank God you finally woke up! Listen, Winter’s on her way to your house.” Chaewon says in a panic, and you yawn, shrugging.

“Okay?”

“She’s on her way over there because Haechan broke up with her.” Chaewon says slowly enough for it to process in your freshly roused mind, and you sit up straight in your bed, now fully awake and alarmed.

“Oh, shit. Did he—”

“He told her about you two.” she confirms, and you curse under your breath, messing with your hair anxiously.

“What exactly did he tell her?” you say slowly, and from the hesitation on the other end, you know it’s not good. “Chae, tell me.”

“He told her you two have been fooling around for a while and that he can’t hold back anymore and keep pretending and he said he doesn’t want to be with her anymore.” she blurts out, and you gasp.

“When was this? What the fuck? Why wouldn’t he run it by me first—” you mutter, worriedly stumbling out of bed and starting to fix your appearance in the mirror of your vanity.

“It seemed like it was eating away at him, honestly.” Seulgi pipes up from the background, and you sigh in defeat. “He must really like you.”

“Yeah, or really not like her.” you mumble bitterly, flinching harshly at the sound of a fist pounding on your front door. “I gotta go—she’s here—”

“I know you’re in there!” Winter shrieks through the door, and you freeze mid-stride, not sure what the best course of action might be. “Why would you do this to me?” she cries, and your heart twists painfully as regret swims through you.

You silently pad to the door, placing your hand on the doorknob before retracting it and shaking your head to yourself. You already know what Winter looks like when she cries; an adorable kicked puppy, and you have no desire to see that face when you’re the one who caused it.

“I should have known by the way he looks at you.” she sniffles, and you swallow a thick lump in your very dry throat. “He never looked at me like that.”

You try to speak, but your voice is so hoarse from just waking up and the remorse practically clogging your throat that the sounds barely register as a faint squeak. Thankfully for you, Winter doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at a remark, the heartbroken girl crying softly on the other end.

“Now you won’t even answer me? That’s just great.” she remarks bitterly, and you look at the doorknob as if you’re expecting it to unlock itself magically and let Winter in to unleash a can of whoop-ass on you.

“Y’know, I really thought you were my friend.” she says softly, her voice cracking on the last word. “If it wasn’t obvious, I don’t ever want to hear from you again.”

You quietly rest your forehead on the door, eyes sliding shut as a hot, guilty tear threatens to slip past your closed lids.

“I hope you two are happy together.” Winter scoffs, a thud from the other end telling you she’s kicked your door in frustration. After what feels like ages of silence, you peek through the peephole to see her entering the elevator at the end of your hall and let out a tortured sigh of defeat.

You slowly start to drag yourself throughout your apartment, the guilt weighing you down like shackles as you get ready for work, only to be interrupted by a hesitant knock on your door.

When you look through the peephole, your heart speeds up in panic as you see a dejected-looking Jeno standing on the other side of your door. 

You take a deep breath and pull your door open, offering a feeble smile that, you notice with a pang, he struggles to return.

“Hi,” Jeno greets, despondent as he shifts to lean against your doorway.

“Hey,” you say slowly. 

“I heard.” he explains, and you nod, swallowing thickly. “I noticed Winter left the group chat, then when I asked her why, she told me I should ask you.”

You wince in anticipation of his next words. “So you came to ask me what happened?”

“No, she told me what happened.” Jeno clarifies. “I came because I have a different question.”

“Oh,” you mumble, moving back to let him into your apartment. “Well, do you want to come in to ask?”

He seems to think about it for a moment before shaking his head with a sad smile. “I’d rather not.”

Ouch. You try to hide your saddened expression by scratching at the side of your nose, but you’re not sure you were successful because Jeno’s expression shifts to guilt for a moment and you hate it. You hate that even when he’s coming to you from a place of hurt, he’s found it in himself to be selfless and care about you. 

“That’s fair,” you say too quickly after an awkward pause. “I respect it. What was your question?”

He looks uncomfortable now, shifting his weight from foot to foot before finally asking, “I was just wondering if, um… if you entertained me, I guess, as a distraction from him?”

Your eyes widen. “Jeno, no.”

“Was it to get back at him?” he asks hoarsely, and you shake your head vehemently.

“Not at all.”

“Did it mean… anything to you?” His voice cracks on the last word, and he averts his gaze, thumbing at his nose.

“Jeno, I always had a little thing for you, even before I met Haechan. I did—do like you, I really do! I just—” you rush to explain, but Jeno cuts you off with a hand raised in a silent request for you to stop talking.

“You just… like Haechan more.” he says with a sad sort of acceptance and understanding that breaks your heart.

“Jeno, I am so sorry.” you whisper. “I don’t expect you to forgive me—”

“But I want to.”

“But you don’t have to.” you assure him. “It was never my intent to make you feel used, so I am so sorry I did.”

“It’s o–” he starts, but you shush him.

“Don’t say it’s okay until you’ve had time to think about it.” you insist.

“Yeah… yeah, I think I do need time,” he slowly agrees. “I just need to, like, get over this because,” he lets out a humorless laugh, “I really liked you.”

You’re not gonna lie; the past tense hurts you to hear. You do your best to take it on the chin with a small nod and apologetic smile, but look away to prevent Jeno from noticing the glassy shine of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, again, and I’m even more sorry for this, but I kind of have to finish getting ready for work.” you say carefully, and Jeno’s eyes flash with realization before he’s nodding and backing away from your door. 

“No problem, I’ll, uh… see you around, I guess.” he says with an awkward wave before turning and heading to your elevator and pressing the button. 

Shutting the door, you take a deep, shaky breath before wiping the single tear that you failed to hold back and continuing to get ready.

Apparently, there really isn’t any rest for the wicked, because as you’re now rushing to get ready for work after your horrible start to your morning, your doorbell rings.

“With my luck, it’s gonna be some goons Winter sent to beat me up,” you lament sadly as you walk to your door and peek through the peephole.

To your surprise and sudden onset irritation, Haechan is standing at your door, hands clasped behind his back and teeth nibbling his bottom lip nervously.

You fling open your door and stare at him, incredulous and outraged with your hand on your hip, and he winces.

“I’m guessing you heard the news,” he says sheepishly, and you just stare at him, slowly simmering in your fury.

“You… ruined… everything.” you say slowly, and he frowns. “You—I—first of all, Winter and Jeno have already stopped by here to give me a piece of their mind, so I really feel like the Worst Person in the World right now.”

His eyes widen. “You talked to Winter?”

“She talked at me through my front door because I was too much of a coward to open it,” you mutter bitterly, and he frowns deeply. “She hates me now, as you might imagine.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he says quietly, and you scoff.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” you huff. “You weren’t supposed to tell her you were dumping her for me! You were just supposed to break up with her without bringing me into it! Why wouldn’t you run this by me first?”

“Well—I didn’t think about that,” he stammers.

You scowl. “And this is why you should have brought it up to me first. So I wouldn’t have woken up to being blindsided by being blocked and verbally dragged through the mud by your rightfully scorned ex-girlfriend and my ex-friend—and then being guilt-tripped to the maximum as I apologize profusely to the absolutely wounded sweetheart that was Jeno Lee in my apartment earlier for, essentially, leading him on and breaking his little puppy heart.”

Haechan looks pained. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Really, honestly.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and breathe in and out deeply. “What possessed you to do that?”

“It just kinda… blurted out. I felt like I couldn’t stop, and once I’d started talking, it was too late to take any of it back.” he says hesitantly.

“I should have known this would end badly,” you moan in anguish, and you miss the look of hurt Haechan shoots you.

“End?” he asks, but you’ve already moved on to your next topic.

“I should have known when you met me and your first instinct was to lie to me—”

“I explained myself back then!”

“—and pretend you didn’t have a girlfriend. You didn’t seem to have a hard time withholding that information, did you?”

“That’s not fair,” he replies hoarsely, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“She told me she hates me, I’m a terrible friend, and she never wants to see me again.” you whisper sadly. “And she’s right! I am a terrible friend, and she should hate me and never want to see me again.”

“In your defense, you were only a bad friend to her; you’re not a bad friend overall.” Haechan adds in an attempt to be helpful, but he balks when you glower at him.

“‘Bad friend’ might be subjective, but you know what’s not? ‘Homewrecker.’” you counter. “I might as well have the words ‘dirty man stealer’ written on my forehead because by the time word gets around, that’s all everyone’s gonna know me as.”

“Please stop catastrophizing,” Haechan tries to comfort you, reaching forward to take your hand, but you pull back slightly, folding your arms over your chest and looking down at your feet to avoid the wounded look you know Haechan’s sporting right now. “Listen,” he says firmly, and you huff. “I didn’t do all this—didn’t come this far just to lose you. I broke up with her for you. I broke up with her to be with you. You think, after getting to know me, that I’m just gonna stop trying to get you to let me in?”

“This is just—Haechan, it’s too risky—I’m so scared—” you whimper, and he places his hands on your shoulders, drawing your attention to his concerned expression.

“This is the type of risk you should be taking!” Haechan insists. “Give me time to gain your trust.”

“Haechan, you’re the most risky part about all of this! You cheated on your last girlfriend!”

Hurt flashes across his face for a moment, but he doesn’t release you. “So are you saying ‘once a cheater, always a cheater?’ Are you saying that I sealed my fate as a cheater and don’t deserve a chance at love and happiness?”

“Well, no, I’m saying this is all just… a very high-risk situation… that I’m not sure I can handle.” you say carefully, but apparently, you weren’t careful enough, because he steps back in surprise, recoiling almost as if you’d slapped him.

“I’m too risky.” he says slowly, realization and hurt creeping into his expression.

You hate to see him like this, but you can’t take back anything you’ve said, and, unfortunately, you are very much in a time crunch, as an alarm on your phone reminds you, ringing loudly to give you your warning to head out.

“Haechan, I— I have work in like an hour, I have to go—” you plead, pushing between his shoulder blades to usher him out of your apartment. When you’re both standing outside, Haechan turns to look at you with an expression not unlike that of a kicked puppy, and you’re starting to get a little fed up with everyone having that expression when it comes to you..

“So we’re not gonna finish talking about this?” he pleads, and you shake your head vehemently, inching closer and closer to the elevator door.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” you promise him, finally pressing the elevator button once you’re in reach of it, and he frowns deeply. “Just not right now.” 

The door opens a moment after, to your relief, but Haechan just remains rooted in place, you would guess due to being frozen with shock.

“Are you not coming?” you ask slightly impatiently, pulling up train times on your phone and sucking your teeth before opening the Uber app.

“I’m trying to figure out whatever this was that just happened.” Haechan responds loudly enough that you can hear him, but not so loud that he’s blasting your conversation to the ears of all your neighbors.

“Is that a no?” you stress, trying your best to emphasize the fact that you’re holding the elevator door open for him.

“It’s a no,” he confirms, a hint of sadness and defeat in his voice, and your heart pangs as you release the “Door Open” button on the elevator and the doors slide shut.

As the elevator descends to the ground floor, your heart makes a similar journey, sinking to what feels like the pit of your stomach and leaving you feeling desolate and almost hopeless as you fidget impatiently waiting for your Uber.

Even as your Uber driver pulls up in a sleek white Venza and you climb in and exchange pleasantries, you keep thinking about the look on Haechan’s face when you told him you were leaving. 

You will talk it out with him—you’ll make sure of that. But first, you need to clear your mind and organize your thoughts, and that can’t happen with him standing right in front of you.

“I just want to know what exactly you were thinking,” Seulgi sighs disappointedly. “Like, the whole time—did you just think you could keep seeing him behind her back forever?” she asks, and you wince.

“I wasn’t thinking about her.” you admit quietly, and Seulgi scoffs.

“Clearly! What you did was selfish—reckless—irresponsible, stupidly inconsiderate—”

“I get it.” you cut in gruffly.

“I don’t!” Seulgi exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration. Yunjin catches your eye from her arm chair and something about the sympathetic gaze in her eyes brings you closer and closer to breaking down. “You weren’t thinking about her, obviously, so what were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do.” Seulgi says sternly.

“I don’t—”

“You do!”

“I was thinking about him, okay?” you snap, and she pauses, stunned. “I can’t explain myself, but the whole time, all I thought about was him, and how much I—” your voice catches in your throat and you stop talking to collect yourself.

“How much you… ?” Chaewon asks, and it’s the first time she’s spoken, a cursory glance in her direction revealing that she’s looking at you just as gently as Yunjin is, making the backs of your eyes hotter than before.

“How much I like him,” you confess in a wail, and Yunjin moves from her seat to sit beside you, pulling you into her embrace as you sniffle. “I like him so much, guys. He walks into a room and I, like, can’t look away. It’s like he’s magnetic or something, or like—like—” you stammer and Yunjin places her hand on yours gently.

“Like you might be falling in love with him?” she asks softly, and you freeze before fresh tears well up in your eyes and threaten to spill over.

“Like that,” you agree pathetically, tucking your head into her neck sadly, and she tuts sympathetically, resting her cheek on the top of your head as she continues to hug you. 

“I just—” Seulgi starts before taking a deep breath and restarting with a significantly gentler tone, “I don’t understand when this started exactly.”

You take a deep breath and look at Yunjin, the two of you exchanging meaningful glances.

“You know the welcome home party we had when I came back from Oxford?” you attempt to jog her memory, and she looks thoughtful before nodding. “Remember my party crush that disappeared?” you continue, and she nods again, her eyes widening at your expectant expression as you wait for her to put two and two together. 

“It was him?” she asks in a whisper, and you nod.

“I didn’t know at first—”

“I had to tell her,” Yunjin butts in, coming to your defense, and your heart warms with gratitude for your friend. “She didn’t want anything to do with him, but I guess he wasn’t done with her.”

“Well, don’t paint him as this cunning, evil mastermind,” you say carefully, frowning. “We connected. He couldn’t shake the connection. I should have pushed him away more.”

“But you liked him from the start,” Yunjin points out, still defending you even from yourself. “And he knew. You two didn’t really stand a chance of this ending well.”

Seulgi looks between you and Yunjin with a heavy sigh before turning to Chaewon. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Chaewon says slowly, “in spite of my sapphic lifestyle and ways, I can tell why you like him. And I can see why he likes you. You two are cute together—Seulgi, don’t make that face, because you know it’s true. It’s sad it happened like this, but I think everything happens for a reason.” 

“So you think I should be with him or something?” you ask, surprised and confused and just a bit hopeful.

“I think this shouldn’t be the way to end it, if you do choose to end it. I think you should talk to him again.” she says wisely, and you nod thoughtfully.

“I guess I understand.” Seulgi finally chimes in, and you could practically faint with relief. “You’re basically, like, in love with him. And based on his behavior the other day—y’know, breaking up with Winter—he must love you, too.”

“Well, let’s not jump the gun.” you chuckle hollowly. “I already told him we couldn’t talk about it when he showed up at my place, and I think he thinks I was ending things.”

“Well, were you?” Chaewon asks, and you pause to think before shaking your head slowly.

“I don’t think I was.” you realize in surprise, and Yunjin lets out a low whistle.

“So, how are we going to get your little lover boy back?” she asks, and you shrug hopelessly.

“He probably doesn’t even want to see me,” you sigh.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Seulgi says comfortingly, sitting down on the carpet in front of your knees. “I’m sorry for coming at your throat like that earlier,” she says with a sad smile. “I thought I had an idea of what was going on, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you reply with a small smile. “You were just making sure I wasn’t, like, a terrible person and a homewrecker.”

“You know what I wonder?” Chaewon says out of the blue. “If the guys are comforting Haechan.”

“I hope they are,” you reply immediately. “I hope he’s not alone in this.”

“Well, why don’t you ask them?” she supplies helpfully, and you think about it before nodding in agreement.

“I can do that,” you say resolutely, and she squeezes your hand with an encouraging smile. 

“Good,” she hums, “now can we talk about something less dreadful? Like girls, perhaps?”

“I agree on the topic change,” Seulgi adds immediately, and you snort. 

“We could watch a movie?” Yunjin suggests, and you sit up slightly in your spot.

“We could watch a classic movie about girls,” you add on, and it’s almost like everyone’s mind syncs up at once. “Like—”

“But I’m A Cheerleader?” Seulgi finishes hopefully, and you laugh before nodding. “I’m in!”

As Yunjin and Seulgi start to bustle around the kitchen and living room to prepare for your movie viewing, Chaewon scoots closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder.

“We’ll make it through this, you know,” she comforts you gently. “This feeling definitely isn’t permanent.”

Her words linger in your mind the whole night as you hope and pray she’s right.

“So,” Chenle remarks loudly, folding his hands over his omelet and regarding you carefully. “Let’s recap, shall we?”

“Oh, God,” you groan, putting your face in your hands.

“You knew it was coming,” Mark says with a sympathetic smile.

“In the past week,” Chenle recounts to your table, “Winter has gone completely AWOL, Jeno’s sulking, and Haechan is in the middle of a depressive episode.” He sits forward and eyes you intently. “How do you feel about all of this? What are you gonna do about it all?”

“I already talked to Jeno,” you point out.

“Yes, and may have worsened his sulking.” Chenle counters, and you scowl.

“Who invited this guy?”

“I think what he’s trying to say is that, except Jeno, the ball’s kind of in your court in both situations.”

“I think Winter’s final message was perfectly clear and, frankly, she deserves to have the last word.” you raise your hands in surrender, and Chenle rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you think she deserves an apology?” he butts in, and you frown.

“Of course she does,” you say, “but I didn’t think she wanted to hear from me again, so I’m probably never going to speak to her again if I can help it.” Chenle shoots you a disapproving look, and you continue with, “I’m not going to ask her to unblock me because I deserve it. I did a bad thing to her! I betrayed her!”

“Okay,” Mark relents on that front, choosing a new angle. “How about Haechan?”

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I… I really like Haechan. Like, I really like him, but I’m scared, because I feel like if he cheated on Winter with me, who’s to say he won’t find another me in someone else later down the line? It’s just a very… high-risk situation.” you sigh, not yet noticing the look your friends share before sitting forward.

“Did you happen to say that during your talk with Haechan?” Mark asks, and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

“Say what?”

“High-risk,” Chenle presses, and you think back before nodding. “That explains that, then.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, confused.

“He, um. He keeps saying that. That he’s too high-risk to be with and what’s the point of it all anyway, and—” Mark says, but you hold your hand up to silence him. 

“I’ll talk to him,” you promise quietly, trying to hide the way your heart is breaking. “I never meant to hurt him. I’ll talk to him soon.”

“And Winter? You never meant to hurt her either, I’m guessing.” Chenle asks.

“I’ll talk to Winter if she can manage to look at me without attacking me.” you sigh. “But we don’t live near each other, don’t work together, and it’s not like we’re gonna run into each other in the middle of the street or anything.”

“That’s fair,” Chenle shrugs. “But you might. It’s not exactly a small city, but it’s likely.”

“Pfft, okay.” you scoff. “Can I finish my waffles now?”

Chenle gestures at your plate with his fork invitingly. “Dig in.”

The universe has a funny way of making you eat your words sometimes.

You’re walking around at the farmer’s market in search of fresh produce for you and Yunjin, when a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair catches your eye and makes you freeze.

“Oh, no,” you whisper to yourself, ducking behind a cart of mangoes. The man running the cart peers down at you curiously but, at the sight of your pleading expression, doesn’t protest. “Please keep walking,” you say hopefully, peering over the counter of the cart.

To your complete and utter dismay, not only is Winter in perfect eyesight of you still, but now you’re in perfect eyesight of her.

You two lock eyes and, frankly, you don’t know what to do. Recognition, then pain, then a flash of anger passes over Winter’s face before she settles on indifference and turns, walking away.

You stand up slowly, embarrassed, and smooth out the invisible wrinkles on your sundress, nodding gratefully at the still confused older man who you’ve joined behind the counter. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he replies, voice kind of gruff. “Would you like some mangoes?”

You pause, thinking. “Actually, I would.”

The universe must be feeling silly again, you think as you contemplate your current predicament. 

You’ve been walking around the farmer’s market with a general sense of anxiety and wariness, flinching at every redhead you see, and you’ve just finished checking over your shoulder to make sure she’s not about to run up behind you with a spear when you run directly into the very person you’re avoiding, Winter stumbling to the side from the impact before you steady her.

“Thanks,” she says with an awkward smile, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem,” you reply with a small smile, nodding uncomfortably. You two stare at each other and Winter opens her mouth as if to speak, but ultimately seems to decide against it and turns to leave. She gets about five feet away before you’re blurting out, “I’m sorry!”

She pauses mid-stride, and you take a deep breath. “I’m not asking for forgiveness because I don’t deserve it,” you say carefully, “but I want you to know that nothing about this was personal. It was selfish and horrible, but it was all about me and had nothing to do with hurting you. I can’t explain what happened because I don’t fully understand and I suspect you don’t want to hear it, but I really am sorry and it’s over now.”

She turns to face you finally, her brows raised in surprise. “It’s over?”

You nod resolutely.

“I mean—you’re right. I’m not gonna forgive you. I am gonna say, though, that from seeing you two together, like even when I had my suspicions, I… I get it.”

It’s your turn for your brows to shoot up in shock. “You get it?”

She nods with a small shrug. “Your connection is, like, electric. Like, it hurts for real, don’t get me wrong, and I definitely don’t forgive you, but I’d rather he break up with me to be with the love of his life than break up with me for no reason, y’know? Am I making sense? I guess what I’m saying is: you already did the bad thing… so you might as well reap the benefits of the bad thing and have a whirlwind of a relationship whether it ends well or not.”

You nod slowly, in a daze but still unwaveringly focused on one part of her response. “He said that?” you ask quietly, stunned.

Winter tilts her head to the side in confusion. “Said what?”

“That I’m the love of his life,” you repeat, awestruck. “He said that?”

Winter shifts her weight from one foot to the other, but nods. “Yeah.”

“Like those were his exact words?” you press as you move a bit closer.

Winter coughs uncomfortably into her fist, looking pained. “I’d rather not rehash every intimate detail of my boyfriend dumping me for my ex-friend… and I’d rather not do it to said ex-friend.” she explains, and you nod immediately, stepping back slightly in a silent apology for overstepping. 

“My bad,” you mumble, embarrassed.

“You’re fine,” she replies quietly, adjusting her bag strap again. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m saying it because, unfortunately for me, I still care about both of you. Give him another chance? I just… you two could be really good together and I don’t want to have suffered for nothing.”

Your nodding starts slow and builds until you feel more confident in your decision. “Thanks, Winter. I really am sorry.”

“Yeah,” she nods dismissively in response, and you purse your lips awkwardly. “Um, I’m gonna—” she gestures with her thumb over her shoulder.

“Sure! Yeah, me too. Take—um—take care, I guess.” you mumble, and she smiles slightly.

“You too.”

You think over Winter’s advice for about a week, really considering and weighing out your options. The whole time, though, your mind keeps wandering back to Haechan because, honestly, you miss him. You’re trying not to let that color your decisions, but at the same time, how could it not? 

You’re home with Yunjin, both of you sprawled out on the couch watching some mindless reality television show in an attempt to distract yourself from the internal debate you’re having, when the doorbell rings. You both turn and look at each other, confused.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” you say slowly. “Are you?”

“Nope,” she answers, brows furrowed curiously. “I’ll get it, though.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, trying once more to become one with the upholstery. She gets to her feet and walks to the front door, the sound of it opening catching your attention just in time for you to hear her call your name.

You stand and make your way over to the front door only to stop short at the sight of Haechan standing in your doorway.

The three of you stand there, seemingly frozen, before Yunjin breaks the silence.

“I’ll, um, be in my room if you need me.” she says, squeezing your arm gently before turning and heading to her bedroom.

You two just stand there, still frozen, taking in the sight of each other. Seeing Haechan makes all your feelings from the past week multiply tenfold, but one thought pushes to the forefront: you really did miss him.

“Hi,” he says with a small wave, and you offer the beginnings of a smile.

“Hi,” you reply, waving back awkwardly. 

“How are you?” he asks softly.

You shrug half-heartedly. “I’m okay, y’know—living, I guess.” you answer, and he nods slowly, drumming his fingers on the sides of his thighs.

“Well, that’s, um, good. I’m happy to hear that.” he says carefully, and it’s your turn to nod.

“How are you?” you ask, and he looks you directly in the eyes.

”Bad.” he answers simply, and your brows raise in surprise. 

“Oh—?”

“I feel like I’m not living when I’m not with you.” he admits plainly.

You’re not really sure what to say. “Oh… that’s not good?”

Despite his admission, Haechan still manages to chuckle at your flustered state, stepping forward and asking, “Are we gonna have this whole conversation with me standing outside of your apartment?”

You shake your head and move back to let him in before you even realize you’re doing it. “You can come in,” you offer, and he takes the invitation immediately, stepping closer and into your apartment. He walks straight to your living room with you following after him and stands in the middle of it, running his hand through his hair.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers the confession, and your eyes widen slightly. “I like you so much. You make my day better when I know I get to see you.”

Your face softens. “Haechan—”

“I’m not intentionally being selfish, either!” he defends himself, and you stop speaking, waiting for him to finish. “It was just… eating me up inside not to be with you and show the world how much I like you. It just felt so wrong to me, like, what was I doing in that relationship?”

You wait for a minute. “Is that all you wanted to say?” you ask gently, and he shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I know I’m a cheater and I’m pretty dangerous in terms of being in a relationship with me because I literally just dumped my girlfriend quite abruptly after cheating on her with you, but—”

“Haechan, I wasn’t saying you’re a cheater. Like, yes, you did cheat, but that doesn’t define you, I don’t think.” you say slowly, not willing to hear him about to beat himself up, and he relaxes slightly, looking over at you hopefully. “I just… I know I have a hard time trusting people, and I’m having a hard time right now because you’re one of the first people I’d like to trust again, which is terrifying to me.” you say with a slight shake to your voice.

“I would never hurt you on purpose,” he assures you. “Like I would never do anything like this to you.”

You wrap your arms around yourself in a tight hug in an attempt to comfort yourself. “How do I know that’s true?” you whisper, and he gives you a small, sad smile.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me and find out. And I know that’s a big, high-risk situation, but—”

“It’s worth it, though,” you interject softly, and he stops short, looking at you with eyes swimming with hope. “Like, you’re worth it. I think.”

The beginnings of a smile tug at his lips. “Yeah?” If hope was a light, he’d be glowing from every orifice of his body as he tentatively steps closer to you, smiling wider when you don’t step back.

You nod with a smile curling your own lips. “Yeah, the risk is worth the reward this time, I think, because… I really like being with you.”

Haechan’s eyes hold a playful twinkle as he leans closer, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Yeah? You like being with me?”

“Yeah, I do. A lot. That’s why I was so upset,” you admit. “I wished… still kinda wish… that things were different. That it was me from the beginning.”

“It was you, baby,” he says with an incredulous laugh. “Winter and I were done for the second I laid eyes on you, truthfully.”

“I mean, I wish that we had met when you were single and we could have gotten together without compromising our morals.” you explain, and he nods in understanding before tentatively reaching a hand out to you. When you take it, he beams and pulls you closer to wrap his arm around the small of your back.

“Well… it can be you now.” he suggests, hope glowing from him once more. “You can trust me.”

“That’s a risk I’m gonna have to take, I guess.” you say with a growing smile, and he doesn’t waste another moment before wrapping you in a tight embrace that feels like coming home after a long day. “I missed you,” you confess, voice muffled by the hug, and he pulls back to regard you with shock all over his features.

“You missed me? I was about two days away from doing some grand gesture to get you back or crashing out horrendously if you said no.” he laughs, and you giggle, looking up at him with bright, happy eyes.

“Oh, really? Actually, that does sound about right.” you tease, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully before leaning in closer.

“Shut up,” he chuckles before bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels like warmth floods your whole system, not a warmth akin to desire, but a warmth unlike one you’ve experienced or find yourself able to identify, and you wonder, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to be in love. “Missed you so much,” he groans against your lips, and you pull back slightly to give him small, soft pecks that leave him chasing after your lips for more. “You know what?”

“What is it?”

“I wanna say something.” he decides, and you regard him curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I would really, truly, never ever cheat on you or do anything to break your heart.” he promises you, and you nod with a warm smile.

“I think I believe you,” you say slowly, almost surprised at yourself, and his eyes light up.

“Really?” he asks excitedly, and you nod, draping your arms around his neck.

“I guess I just figured that you wouldn’t do that to the… love of your life.” you say with a teasing smile towards the end, and Haechan stiffens.

“Who told you that?”

“Winter.” you answer simply, and he gapes at you.

“She told you I said that?” he says hoarsely, and you nod, your eyes twinkling with delight. “Why would she do that to me?”

“Possibly her final act of revenge.” you suggest, and his mouth twists awkwardly as he looks away from you with his face reddening. “Hold on a minute. Are you—” 

“Don’t,” he groans, but you ignore him.

“Are you shy right now?” you giggle, and he lets out a small, adorably pathetic wail before burying his face in your neck, the force of his actions knocking you off your feet and sending you both falling onto the couch with a shriek slipping from your lips. “Aw, poor baby,” you coo patronizingly, running your fingers through his hair as he wraps both arms around your waist tighter and nuzzles into the space between your chin and shoulder.

“Don’t be mean,” he whines, and you can’t even stop laughing even if you tried, truly delighted at this new side of Haechan.

“I think you kind of like it when I’m mean,” you remind him through your giggles, and he nods vehemently against your skin, only making your laughter grow.

“Yeah, so quit it before I get hard and make it your problem.” he grumbles, and you scoff.

“I’m not scared of your little friend, Haechan.” you say, and he pulls back to look at you incredulously.

“Little?!” he practically squawks before his fingers are dancing up and down your sides to tickle you mercilessly. 

“I’m sorry!” you shriek through your uncontrollable laughing, and he stops abruptly, bringing his face to yours and studying your expression carefully.

“That’s what I thought. I mean, little? Really? Did you actually forget so soon, baby?” he says with a mocking pout, and you swallow thickly as you gaze up at him. He leans closer so your noses are touching before he says, “I think you might need a reminder.”

“Can you remind her in her bedroom and not defile our lovely couch?” Yunjin’s voice appears out of nowhere, and you jolt in surprise, trying to sit up (in vain, as Haechan has you pinned down). “Love is a beautiful thing, but cum stains aren’t.”

“Amen, girl.” you agree, patting Haechan’s chest to let you up, which he does. “Come on.” you stand and offer him your hand, which he takes readily, and lead him to your room. It’s not until you two are safely in your room with your door shut that you say, “I do too, by the way.”

“You do… what… too?” Haechan asks, puzzled, and you smile secretively, collapsing onto your bed.

“Love you.” you answer simply, and his eyes look like they could pop out of his head at any moment. “Don’t freak out.” you warn him, and he jumps onto your bed, climbing on top of you with a wild, exhilarated look in his eyes.

“The love of my life just told me she loves me back and you expect me to stay calm?” he says incredulously, and you nod. 

“Precisely.”

He dips his head down swiftly to kiss you before sitting up and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “No can do. Gonna text all my friends the news right now and tell my boss I’m not coming to work later.”

“Now why would that warrant calling out of work?” you say with a snort.

“Hush, lady, I’m posting on my Instagram story.” he silences you with a focused look on his face.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, and he nods, turning his phone to face you. “…Haechan.”

“Yes?”

“‘My girl said she loves me, crash out postponed’ is a crazy thing to post.” you snicker.

“It’s true!”

“Your crash out should be canceled!” you exclaim incredulously.

“I’m never truly not at risk of crashing out.” he confesses, and you make a worried face and start sitting up, pretending to get ready to leave. “Oh, no, you don’t.” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you back down to him. “You’re stuck with me, I fear.”

“Mm, I guess that’s okay.” you say with a grin.

Truthfully, you don’t think you could be happier.

“What are we watching tonight?” Chenle asks as he plops down on the other end of the couch you’re sitting on.

“I vote Aquaman,” you pipe up, reaching out to Haechan as he approaches with a plate of pizza rolls for you two. When he offers the plate to your outstretched hands, you shake your head and wave the plate away, reaching out again to make it abundantly clear what you’re reaching for. He grins, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of you before collapsing into your waiting embrace with a pleased sigh.

“You just wanna drool over Jason Momoa,” Chaewon jeers, and you shrug.

“That’s my God-given right.” you defend yourself casually, and Haechan nods in agreement.

“You do know she’s gonna lust after him the whole movie, right?” Chenle points out to Haechan, who just shrugs dismissively.

“Then when she’s all pent-up and frisky, who’s she gonna come to?” he answers smugly, and you beam, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“He’s playing chess, y’all, not checkers.” you remark.

Haechan snorts in amusement and grins proudly before jerking his chin towards the television. “Exactly. Now someone put it on.”

“Bossy ass,” Yunjin mutters jokingly under her breath. 

“What was that?” Haechan puts a hand behind his ear. “Couldn’t hear you over there.”

“No, you can’t fight Yunjin.” you whisper to him, putting his hand down. He looks over at you confused and you continue, “I can’t pick a side.”

“Pick my side?” he replies slowly as if the answer was obvious. “I’m your boyfriend.”

“She’s my best friend, though.” you reply with a wince, and Yunjin nods from the armchair she’s curled up in. “And she knows where I sleep at night.”

“Both are true,” she confirms proudly, and Haechan sucks his teeth but backs down with a roll of his eyes. 

“Fine. For now,” he relents with a brief glare shot in Yunjin’s direction. “Can we put the movie on now?” he complains, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly before starting to navigate to the movie on the television screen.

Haechan laces his fingers with yours, curling them into his palm as he brings your linked hands to his mouth. You watch with rapt attention as he kisses the back of your hand, then each knuckle, all the while maintaining heavy eye contact.

Your cheeks blaze something fierce and you look away with a nervous, shy giggle that makes Haechan chuckle.

“Look at me,” he murmurs insistently, moving his head so it’s more in your line of sight. When you swallow and look away again, he coos fondly, pulling your chin so your face is angled towards his once more. “There’s my pretty girl.”

“Haechan,” you whine quietly, and his gaze darkens.

“What is it, baby?” he murmurs with a sympathetic lilt. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumble, placing your hand up between your faces so he can’t look directly at you. “It’s making me nervous.”

He snickers, moving your hand to your lap and regarding you carefully.

“How am I looking at you?” he asks with a raised brow and a devious little grin. 

“You know how you’re looking at me.” you gripe, pushing his shoulder slightly, and his eyes flash with mischief.

“Well, it’s not that I’m looking at you like you’re the only thing on my menu for tonight, is it? Because I look at you like that all the time.” he thinks aloud, slowly pulling you onto his lap and winding his arms around your waist. 

“God, Haechan,” you half-laugh, half-gasp, and he grins. 

“No, it can’t be that. Is it because I’m looking at you like I love you?” he asks plainly, and your throat closes up slightly in shock from his bluntness. 

“Well—yes, a bit.” you mumble, shifting in your spot slightly. 

“I don’t know if you realize this,” he murmurs by your ear, “but I’ve been looking at you like that from day one.”

“It’s way different now,” you counter, frowning as you explain yourself. “Before it was like… fascination more than—”

“Understanding?” he finishes for you, and you blink in surprise before nodding. “So I could look at you like I love you when I didn’t know you, but now that I know you, I can’t look at you like I love you? Even though now I have more reasons to love you?” he says slowly, looking at you with his brows raised. “Do you see how silly you sound, baby?”

You can’t help but laugh fondly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I kinda do, yeah.”

“Good. Now gimme a kiss before you let me look at you any way I want.” he huffs playfully, pressing his lips to yours with a pleased hum.

“Can you two get a room?” Chenle gags, and you break apart, a sheepish smile on your face while Haechan rolls his eyes. “Man, what’s Jeno gonna do when he comes back to hanging out with us and has to watch you two practically going at it all the time?”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll manage.” Haechan grumbles before pecking you on the lips again.

“Speaking of Jeno,” you ask, shifting to sit up slightly. “Do we really think he’s gonna feel comfortable being friends with us again?”

“He’d be silly not to,” Chaewon answers in confusion. “It’s not like you two were a thing for real.” 

“Speaking of people and forgiveness and that kind of stuff…” Haechan trails off, his voice softer as he shifts his target audience to you alone, and you turn your head slightly to regard him suspiciously. 

“You’d better not ask what I think you’re about to ask.” you warn him, and he frowns.

“I was just wondering if you think Winter would ever forgive us?” he asks hopefully, and you shake your head resolutely.

“No. And she shouldn’t, frankly. We did a bad thing.” you explain, and he nods slowly.

“I just feel a little guilty.” he muses quietly, and you can’t hide your small snicker of amusement.

“You should, actually. But it’ll pass with time hopefully.” you assure him.

“What are you two lovebirds chatting about?” Seulgi calls out from across the room.

“Wondering if Winter would ever forgive any of us.” you answer for Haechan, and Seulgi, Yunjin, and Mark shake their heads immediately, Chenle straight up laughs, and Yunjin shoots you both a sympathetic frown.

“I doubt it. She blocked all of us when she found out we knew.” Mark points out, and you nod slowly in understanding.

“Actually, she didn’t block me,” Yunjin corrects, “but I think that has more to do with the fact that we’re kind of coworkers.”

“Have you seen her since everything?” Chaewon asks curiously, and Yunjin thinks back for a moment.

“I saw her the other day because she was working with a client that stays on the same floor as Mrs. Rothschild. She gave me, like, that reflex half-smile that you give people when you don’t wanna seem rude, y’know?” 

“Oh, I know that one.” you reply with a solemn nod. “We’re doomed.”

“Can we stop moping around and watch this movie, please? Also, can we order pizza or something, because I’m starving.” Mark complains, clutching his stomach, and you snort loudly in amusement.

“Yeah, moping session over. Let’s press play and figure out the food situation.” you announce, and Yunjin nods once before starting the movie. As the starting credits roll, you all decide on the pizza order (three medium pizzas, one with extra cheese, one with pepperoni, and one with half pineapple, half chicken and tomato) and place it for delivery before you settle further into the couch on Haechan’s lap in an attempt to get comfortable.

When the doorbell rings, you all look at each other in a silent standoff before Haechan sighs loudly and clambers off of the couch to get the door. You all wait with bated breath until he returns with three boxes of pizza stacked on top of each other before you start cheering.

As you all scramble to get your slices of choice, Haechan pushes Chenle out of the way none too gently, the male squawking indignantly before muttering something about favoritism and revenge and Haechan’s toothbrush, and tugs you closer to the boxes. “Take your pick, baby.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” you coo fondly as you take your desired slices.

After he takes his, the two of you make your way back to the couch and settle down in your spots from before. 

“Y’know, I’ve been trying to convince you I’m a gentleman since, like, the first day I met you,” he chuckles. 

“It was a lot harder to believe when you were literally dating You-Know-Who.” you reply in defense, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve been yours from the beginning, though. I told you that.” he reminds you, and you gaze into his eyes for a moment before reaching up and gently cupping his cheek.

“Yeah, but now I actually believe you.” you say softly, almost surprised by your own revelation, and his eyes widen slightly before a smile starts tugging at his lips.

“Oh, yeah? How’s it feel, then?” he asks in a murmur, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“How does what feel?”

“Knowing I love you,” he answers, and there goes that arrhythmic thud of your heartbeat starting up again. “That I’m yours.”

the boy is mine. watch me take my time. i can’t believe my mind. the boy is divine—

In lieu of a verbal response, you cup his chin and pull him in for a slow, deep kiss that you hope conveys all the feelings you can’t put into words. When you pull back, his eyes are heavy-lidded and he’s gazing at you with blatant adoration in his gaze.

“Like that,” you whisper back with a smile, and by the sheer radiance of his responding beam, you know he understands. 

—the boy is mine.

TA DA!!!!! i hope you enjoyed your read! this is the final installment, so thank you so so much for your support with this fic! it was a Lot to write but i’m proud of it! i really love positive feedback and also, if you’re able, i very much appreciate tips!! 

if you’d like to read the bonus scene, it’s available on my patreon here :) it answers a couple of questions you might have had, and down the line there will probably be more bonus scenes to come, exclusive to patreon members!!

LINKS: KO-FI // VENMO // CASHAPP // AMAZON WISHLIST // (if you’d like to support via paypal, let me know off anon!!)

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | july 8 - july 14

note: we are halfway! this is 29.5k. i hope you all enjoy it. we are in the meat of it now! things are getting angsty, but i loooove love love these pairings more than anything and i hope you guys are enjoying this series just as much as El Capitan (Cappy) and I are <3

43:90 – TREVOR

do you smoke?

Trevor really likes Honey. He does. That's why he hasn't blocked Bea’s number yet. He never should have gone to see her at The Reading Nook in the first place. He could've won Honey on his own– and did– but Trevor has to deal with the nasty side effect of his own actions. The side effect is that Bea still texts him all the time, asking silly questions like this.

&! &! IF i brought weed to the house, would i be the victim of a murder?

You're going to be the victim of a murder right now if you don't stop texting me. Yes, we all smoke on occasion. You can come over if you bring Honey.

she’s not already there? ;)

Trevor narrows his eyes at his phone and doesn't reply. No, Honey isn’t already here, and Trevor wishes he could get her to stay over after they hook up. He’s stayed at her place twice now. He should be afforded the same luxury of having Honey in his bed rather than being the guest star in Honey’s bed. 

She needs to get used to sleeping in his bed anyway, since Scarlett has decided that they’re getting married. If the ladies know, then there’s a chance that everyone in Litchton knows. Trevor realizes that Sarah said the ladies loved Honey more than the chance to gossip– but you never know. All of their efforts to keep things secret could be in vain.

Even though it seems pointless, Trevor likes that Jack, Cole, and Luke are still in the dark. No matter how many times they tease him for being so down bad for Honey, Trevor won’t break. Each one of them ends their chirps with something about how Honey would never shack up with Trevor– even though Jack and Cole really want it to happen– and the knowledge that they’re wrong keeps Trevor strong.

Honey would shack up with him, actually, and regularly does so. When he sees her tonight, they’ll probably shack up again, especially if they’ve got some weed in their system. Trevor can’t wait to see what Honey’s like while she’s high– he’s only ever seen her drunk and she rarely ever loses her inhibitions.

Trevor hears the door open when the girls arrive. They never knock anymore. They haven’t since the first time they came over. They just walk right in because the boys always leave the doors unlocked during the day– it’s Litchton. There’s no crime in this town. The worst thing that happens in a day is that someone jaywalks from The Reading Nook to their car.

He hears the boys call to them from the basement and he hears them bounding down the stairs. He hears Bea present a bag of weed to the room and Cole’s loud cheer. He’s got time before they roll up the weed into something smokeable. While he waits, he changes into his sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, knowing that he’s going to get cold when he smokes. He’ll bring his sweatshirt downstairs later. Trevor tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It’s getting a little long.

He busies himself until he hears the loud crash of Cole climbing the steps, probably having been sent to summon Trevor to the basement. 

“Let’s go, dude,” Cole calls, rapping on the door. “Weed! Downstairs.”

“I know, I’m coming,” Trevor says. He crosses his room and opens the door. Cole is already grinning dopily, like he’s consumed his own joint within the past few minutes and he’s already halfway to high.

Cole scampers down the hallway ahead of Trevor, practically bouncing off the walls. It’s rare that they get the chance to smoke at any point during the year. Weed isn’t banned in the league, but the boys are tested pretty regularly. Executives tend to frown on people that smoke weed, but– shockingly– don’t have much to say when it comes to alcohol abuse.

Still, the boys are able to risk it today. They’ve got half a summer left, which is plenty of time for the drug to get out of their system before their preseason tests.

They used to smoke over the summers before they joined the league. Cole always preferred smoking over drinking, so the times that they get to roll up a blunt, he’s all over it. Bea has no idea what she’s started.

They head down to the basement, with Cole crashing onto the loveseat face-first. He turns over onto his back. His knees bend over the edge of the couch and he places a pillow under his neck. “Hurry up,” Cole whines.

Honey frowns at him, raising the paper roll to her lips. She licks over the edge of the paper and seals it down like an envelope. “God, your highness,” she scoffs. “Impatient much?”

“Weed, please,” Cole says. He’s smiling extra-wide and pinches his fingers at Honey until she hands the completed joint his way.

Honey starts to roll a new one. She’s kneeling beside the coffee table, using a plastic sandwich bag like a rolling board. Jack is leaning over her shoulder, hooking his chin over her exposed skin. 

Trevor would get angry at Jack being so close to the girl, but Honey pats the side of Jack’s face and tells him something that Trevor doesn’t catch, and the boy leans back. He’s the next one to receive a joint, which he’s quick to light and take a drag from before sharing with Luke.

“Bea, where’d you get this shit?” Trevor asks, finally drawing attention to himself.

Honey scoffs, snorting under her breath. 

“Don’t laugh!” Bea exclaims, reaching forward and tugging Honey’s hair, hard. “I got it from this guy named Griffin.”

Trevor immediately thinks of his brother, who shares a name with Bea’s dealer. He should probably call him soon. 

“How do you know Griffin?” Honey asks.

Bea glares at the girl out of the side of her eye. “We dated.”

“What’s Griffin’s job?” Honey continues.

Bea whines, pouting slightly. She looks at Quinn for a second, but the boy shakes his head and grins. “He’s Litchton’s deputy sheriff,” Bea growls.

Trevor laughs to himself. Sometimes he forgets that Bea and Honey are more like sisters than friends and Honey loves to embarrass Bea when she can. Bea’s not really the kind to be embarrassed, but occasionally Honey hits the nail on the head and milks it for all her jokes are worth.

Of course Bea dated the deputy sheriff and of course he still gives her confiscated evidence. It just makes sense.

Honey goes silent and smiles down at the third joint that she’s rolling. The group chats around her, but she’s all that Trevor can focus on. 

She looks gorgeous today. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and keeps falling into her eyes, a little wet and stringy from the rain. Honey is wearing a tank top that ties in the front in a cute little bow– the thin string is so flimsy that Trevor might “accidentally” pull it loose once they’re alone. Her fingers are deft as she assembles and rolls the paper into a neat little cylinder. 

When she finishes that roll, she hands the joint to Bea, who puts the joint between her lips and waits for Quinn to spark the lighter, holding it to the other end of the joint so she doesn’t have to.

Trevor understands why Honey was glaring at them so much yesterday. They’re gross.

Honey rolls up the rest of the weed into a couple more joints. Trevor is surprised that the deputy sheriff handed all of this evidence off to Bea, considering it produced a good crop of roll-ups. Surely this guy would’ve liked to smoke some of the weed. Maybe he gets tested way more often than Trevor and can’t smoke. Poor Griffin.

Cole offers his joint to Trevor, who takes it and inhales. It’s been a minute since he smoked anything, so the smoke feels grainy when it makes its way down his throat and into his lungs. It takes everything in him not to cough. He’ll be damned if he’s the first one to cough this evening. 

He’s saved by Luke, luckily. The boy has to shift on the couch and bury his face in a throw pillow. 

Bea, who seems to have claimed the recliner with Quinn as their designated, unassigned-assigned seat, leans forward to pat the boy’s back. “Aw, Lukey,” she coos. “Let it out. You know, the more you cough, the higher you get.”

“That’s not true,” Honey says with an eye roll. 

“Anything can be true if you believe,” Bea replies, still rubbing Luke’s back. She allows Quinn to steal the joint from between her fingers and he inhales deep. Trevor half expects him to cough it out and take Bea’s attention from his younger brother, but he just holds the smoke in his chest for a moment before exhaling a dim cloud.

Honey climbs onto the loveseat, lifting Cole’s pillow and head so that she can slide underneath. Trevor takes the final seat on the couch between the two younger Hughes brothers, returning Cole’s joint to him. Trevor is now part of Jack and Luke’s blunt rotation.

Bea throws on the same trashy reality show that she got Cole hooked on a few weeks ago and they watch that for a while. It’s refreshing to see drama unfold on a television screen rather than in their own lives– Trevor remembers for the first time in a while that they originally came to Litchton because a group of girls were so interested in hanging out with the boys that they committed a crime to do so. 

Trevor didn’t realize how much he valued his anonymity until he came to Litchton and rediscovered it. The only thing that people are talking about in town, at least in regards to Trevor, is his love life. That’s not even confirmed– it’s just a bunch of old ladies assuming the correct thing as a coincidence. Maybe Trevor and Honey should be more careful. 

Nah.

Over the next half hour, the room starts to fill with smoke, so much so that Bea slides off of Quinn to open the glass sliding door and ‘increase air flow.’ When she returns, she settles down on his lap like it’s her throne. 

Trevor wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. He keeps an eye on them for one stubborn reason that’s being repeated over and over in the back of his mind– that should be him and Honey.

Honey is sharing a joint with Cole, petting her fingers through his hair in a way that has Cole drifting off to sleep. She’s taken control of the joint, holding it lazily between her index and middle fingers. Her palm faces the sky as her elbow rests on the arm of the couch, wrist bending daintily. When she inhales, she looks at the person in the group who’s talking. When she exhales, she rolls her head back and blows the smoke towards the ceiling. She usually closes her eyes in relief when she does. 

It’s the prettiest thing Trevor has ever seen. He wishes he could take a picture of Honey right now, just so that he could freeze this moment forever. She’s so pretty. She could ask Trevor to do anything right now and he would– no questions asked. “Get me a beer, Trevor?” He’d be on his feet and upstairs in an instant, grabbing her three beers so that she doesn’t run out. “Trevor, it’s hot in here. Turn the thermostat down.” Yes, ma’am. 68ºF, just for you. 

“Come over here and eat me out.” 

Trevor wishes she would say that. He would do it. He’d tune out the things that the other boys would inevitably say and bury himself between Honey’s legs until she’s satisfied and then, only then, he’d stop.

He realizes he’s staring and that’s how he knows that the high has started to set in. His eyes are growing a little dry and it’s getting harder to follow the conversation. Trevor feels like he’s moving through caramel. 

He stares at Honey for another moment, then looks around the room. No one is watching him. He’s sandwiched between them, but Luke and Jack are talking around Trevor and debating one of the couples on this show. Cole is practically asleep on Honey’s lap, although Honey is currently holding the joint to his lips and he’s breathing in. Bea and Quinn– well, Bea and Quinn seem to be entangled. 

As Trevor watches, a little horrified by just how much the two are touching, Quinn inhales and holds the smoke in his mouth until Bea ghosts her lips over his. It’s then that he exhales, letting the smoke fill Bea’s mouth. They’re shotgunning. Trevor crinkles his nose and frowns, appalled by the blatant show that they’re putting on.

At least he kept his musings to himself. Bea and Quinn have commenced some detailed, lavish, public foreplay journey. Trevor is disgusted.

And, if he is being honest, a little turned on. He wants to shotgun with Honey. How unfair is it that Bea and Quinn can just do all of this shit, and Trevor has to sit on an entirely separate couch than Honey in the interest of preserving the secrecy of their relationship? Bullshit.

Acting on an impulse, Trevor digs his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and searches for Honey’s messages. He leans forward and turns his brightness down, tapping out an honest, blunt message and sending it. He pockets his phone and waits for Honey to check her messages. 

Wanna eat u out baby u look pretty today

She doesn’t react in a timely manner. Trevor frowns.

He tries again.

Maybe get my dick in u I know how much u like it when I fuck u

Still, nothing from Honey.

Trevor furrows his eyebrows and pulls his phone out for a third time. In his hazy mind, there’s some cloudy baseball metaphor floating about– if Honey doesn’t respond to this message, Trevor’s got his answer. Strike three. There it is– the metaphor makes it out of his high unscathed.

God, Trevor is lucky that everyone is caught up in their own thing. If the boys saw him smiling at his own joke while he types out a dirty message to a girl, they’d rag on him relentlessly. 

Will u sleep over tn?

“Honey, baby, your phone won’t stop buzzing and it’s annoying me,” Bea whines, tugging at the pocket of the sweatshirt she’s wearing until she produces Honey’s phone. “You’re distracting me from Quinn.”

“Text them back and tell them to stop annoying you,” Honey replies, nonchalant and laughing. She’s holding the joint just above Cole’s lips, but raising it out of reach each time he tries to capture it for another hit.

Trevor wants to interrupt and shout, “No! No, don’t!” but Bea is already tapping out Honey’s password. Even worse, Quinn adjusts the girl on his lap so that he can see Honey’s phone, too.

Trevor watches in petrified slow motion as Bea’s and Quinn’s eyes dance along the length of his messages. He watches as they, in sync, let their eyes double-check his name in Honey’s phone. Then, he watches a devilish and gleeful grin coat Bea’s face. Quinn’s smirk is much more predatory. When Quinn looks at Trevor, the look in his eye is just: “I know something you don’t want me to know. I’m going to milk the fuck out of this.”

Trevor presses his lips together in a grimace. He closes his eyes for just long enough to acknowledge the humiliation he’s experiencing now. He’s sure his face is brick-red. It might be the high, but he can feel the tips of his ears bristling with shame.

He sees Quinn fit his mouth next to Bea’s ear, whispering something that has her giggling and then squirming when he blows cool air over her neck.

“I think you’ll want to answer these,” Bea announces to Honey when she recovers, piquing the interest of the other boys. She tosses the phone across to Honey, who catches it, and the boys follow the throw like a dog about to fetch a ball. 

Honey turns the phone over in her hand and looks at the screen, brushing her hair out of her face with her pinkie, still holding the joint between her index and middle fingers. She had a smile on her face when her phone illuminated her features, but that dropped almost as soon as it appeared. 

Trevor braces for the worst. Honey looks shocked. Despite her expression, a pretty pink blush blooms across her cheeks. He gulps when her eyes find him. 

“What did it say?” Jack demands, bouncing a little bit in his seat. 

“It’s– nothing,” Honey says, waving her hand and shutting her phone off. 

She’s a terrible liar when she’s high. It just makes Jack more interested. Cole still isn’t that excited– he’s waking up from his weird limbo nap– and Trevor couldn’t be more glad. He’d be able to snatch Honey’s phone in an instant. Trevor can hear his heart beating way more rapidly than normal.

“What is it?” Jack asks, his voice growing more cartoonish. He looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. 

“A– guy,” Honey stammers out. 

Trevor can tell that she’s trying not to lie, because she’s so shit at it, but she doesn’t want to reveal the whole truth. She’s better than him– he would have run away by now. The boys would’ve chased him, but he still would’ve ran.

“You’ve been seeing a guy?” Jack says, sounding incredulous. His head turns to Trevor, meeting his eyes. 

For a second, Trevor thinks he’s been caught, but then Jack scoffs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Jack laughs. He sighs comically, then elbows Trevor in the ribs. Jack looks back at Honey. “What did this dude say that has you all bothered? Do we need to go beat him up, or is this a good look? I’m hoping it’s a good look by the little smile on your face.” He reaches forward, index finger waving over Honey’s face until it finds its mark at the corner of her mouth. He stumbles a little bit, almost falling forward off the couch when Honey bats him away.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Honey tells Jack with a practiced, but fake smile. She’s turning on the charm. Trevor despises the way she grabs Jack’s finger and wiggles it affectionately. “Really, he’s nothing to write home about. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys.”

Nothing to write home about, Trevor seethes. Yuh-huh!

“What was it?” Jack presses.

“He asked me to sleep over,” Honey reveals, rolling her eyes a bit like she’s unimpressed. Trevor disagrees. That was a pretty impressive line.

“What are you going to say?” Cole demands, piping in for the first time. 

Now, Trevor’s heart freezes as Cole tries to feel for Honey’s phone. Partially because of the chance that he’ll find Honey’s phone, but also partially because Cole’s hand is getting awfully close to Honey’s tits, and those belong to Trevor.

Yes, he turns into a caveman when he’s high. He likes Honey. So what?

Honey just twists out from under him and stands, brushing her hands over the arm of the couch as she slinks away. “I was thinking,” she drawls. Her eyes slide over to meet Trevor’s and his heart starts again because she’s answering him in front of everyone. She licks her lower lip before continuing. He licks his subconsciously like he’s spellbound, following her every move. “That I’d tell him to come back to mine instead.” 

Fuck, Trevor’s hard. He bundles up his fists and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to mask his bulge. He looks up to find that Bea noticed and she’s holding back a laugh. Quinn just smiles. Man, Trevor wishes he could wipe it off Quinn’s face.

“Good answer,” Jack says, nodding. “We approve.”

“Go get laid, bro,” Cole adds, offering a fist-bump to the girl. She’s upside down in his vision, so they don’t connect first try.

Honey laughs. “Thanks,” she says. “I’m hoping to.”

And then she disappears up the stairs.

The air is still for a minute. Trevor flashes a glare at Bea and Quinn before collapsing into the cushions of the couch, covering his face with his hands.

“Bro, don’t worry about it,” Jack says. He pats Trevor on the stomach. “This is why you’re on Raya, remember? Just find some other girl to hook up with.”

Trevor spreads his fingers wide enough to nail Jack with a glare. 

“Yeah, but that’s the difference between them,” Quinn says, jumping in where he’s not wanted. He’s still got that stupid, smug, knowing smirk on his face. “Trevor’s hooking up with other people because he has to. Honey’s hooking up with other people because she wants to.”

Bea frowns and flicks Quinn’s earlobe. “Be nice,” she chides, her words dripping with false pity. “Poor Trev just got his heart broken.” She turns to Trevor and quirks an eyebrow. “Will you be okay?” She mocks.

Quinn laughs quietly, splaying his fingers out over Bea’s stomach, his fingertips dipping beneath the fabric. He kisses her shoulder, then her neck. He’s still smirking. Trevor really wishes he could do something about it.

“I’ll be fine,” Trevor growls through his teeth. A lightbulb seems to turn on in his head– this is actually the perfect escape route. “Actually, I was thinking about inviting someone over. I’m waiting for her to text me back.”

“Atta boy!” Cole cheers.

Trevor stands, flashing his own smug smirk Quinn’s way. See, look how smart I am, he says to Quinn in his mind. The other boy is unbothered, which is annoying. “I’m going to go up to my room and get ready for her.”

“Make sure you put the nice sheets on,” Luke jokes dryly. “The 300-count.”

“Maybe after we’re done,” Trevor replies. He stumbles a bit while maneuvering around the coffee table, but he can’t be judged for that. None of them have stood up, except for Honey and Bea, since they started smoking. Trevor is brave for being the first. The first man to stand, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s a warrior.

Honey seems to agree. She’s waiting for him by the front door, her arms crossed over her chest and leaning back against the wall. “You’re very brave for sending me those messages in a room full of all of our friends,” she teases, trying to hide a smile from him. When he gets close enough, she reaches out and pulls him in by his shirt, planting a kiss on his lips. 

“I didn’t know Bea would have your phone,” Trevor tells her sheepishly, almost apologetic in his tone. 

“It’s okay,” Honey says. She pulls him down for another kiss. “I think it’s cute when you’re all bold. You really just go for it, huh?”

“Go big or go home,” Trevor says, letting his hands make their way under the sides of her shirt. He fits his fingers along the curve of her waist on either side, moving slowly. She’s soft and warm and he really, really can’t imagine anything prettier. It could be the high talking. Or maybe Honey is that pretty, so pretty that the light from the bulb on the other side of the front door shines through the window and turns her golden.

“Speaking of home,” Honey says, pulling away from Trevor’s touch. She loops her pinkie with his index finger and reaches for the door with her other hand. “We have to move my car.”

“We can’t drive,” Trevor says, feeling suddenly alarmed. Surely she doesn’t expect him to get into a car with half a joint in his system.

“No, baby, we’re not going anywhere,” Honey corrects. “We just have to move it out of sight so the boys don’t know I’m here. I was thinking we’d go to the end of the driveway, then behind those trees. You can go up to your room if you want, or you can come with me.”

Honey could’ve said anything and Trevor would have agreed. All of his trepidation is gone. He’s melting into Honey’s touch and has been since the second she called him ‘baby.’ It was rushed and a little patronizing, and not at all like the way he says it to her, but it gave Trevor the same reaction.

He follows her through the front door and the beam from her smile at his decision is like a shot of adrenaline.

They’re careful not to slam her car doors or rev the engine too much as they creep up the driveway. They’re both being too slow and too careful and if anyone where to walk out of the house, they’d laugh and ask what the hell the couple was doing.

But they laugh like criminals getting away from a robbery scot-free. By the time Honey parks the car at the top of the driveway, sheltered from view, Trevor has lost his breath from how hard he’s laughing. He and Honey sigh at the same time, which sends them into a fresh fit of laughter.

Honey reaches into the waistband of her bottoms, where she was conveniently stashing a blunt. She holds it up to Trevor and wiggles a little in her seat, biting her lip to contain her excitement. “Got you a present,” she says. “Thought we could share.”

Trevor’s first thought is of Bea and Quinn passing smoke between them. His eyes drift down to Honey’s mouth, imagining doing the same thing. He doesn’t know if he could do it, hover there just millimeters from her lips. He’d be too eager. He’d want to kiss her too much to stay so, so close, but so far from her. It would be like torture. 

“Will you let me kiss you every time you hit it?” Trevor asks, staring at the way the bow of her lips curves when she smiles. 

“Only if you let me kiss you every time you hit it,” Honey replies, her tongue poking out as she laughs again.

Trevor groans, loving that answer. He leans forward to claim his prize, but Honey swerves him and his lips only catch the corner of hers. Trevor frowns. 

“Easy there, big boy,” Honey laughs, planting her hand on Trevor’s chest and pushing him back. “You haven’t even taken the roach yet.”

Trevor eyes her, then plucks the blunt from her fingertips. “How are we even going to light it?” Trevor asks, inspecting the wrapping. Not a wrinkle in sight.

“Cigarette lighter,” Honey says like it’s obvious. She reaches toward her console. She pushes a button and waits. “Perks of having an old car, Z.”

Trevor startles at the nickname. It’s what his friends call him. Honey shouldn’t be using it. “Don’t ‘Z’ me,” he deadpans. 

Honey raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Don’t!” Trevor repeats, wanting to stomp one foot like a child when he complains.

“Or what?” Honey asks, unfazed by Trevor’s annoyance. She seems thrilled, even, as she laughs.

“Or else!” Trevor announces, then looks away from Honey with a huff. He can’t stay in that position long, missing her too much when she’s out of view. 

She kisses him when he turns back, cradling his jaw in her hand with the most delicate touch of her fingertips. The pad of her index finger pets over the curve of Trevor’s jawline and he shivers. 

“You’re so stupid,” Honey whispers fondly. Trevor can feel the weight of her gaze after she pulls away. He basks in it.

Then, the cigarette lighter pops out of its spot and bounces. The hot end brushes Honey’s knuckle, burning her.

She jumps, gasping and pulling her hand up. She flexes it, pressing her lips together to hold in any noises of pain, and she looks up and to the side, blinking in surprise. She grinds her teeth and her face goes grim, almost angry. She doesn’t want to check it to see what it looks like. 

Trevor has her hand in his and his lips over the affected area in an instant, as if he can really kiss it better. “Oh, Honey,” he murmurs. 

Honey shudders. “Ugh, that was– overdramatic,” she sighs in a self-deprecating way. She shakes her hand out of Trevor’s grasp like the wound was nothing. She checks the spot and sees the red mark, but shakes it off again. She finds the cigarette lighter, right at the scene of the crime, and picks it up like an old friend. She lights the blunt and it burns and crackles between Trevor’s fingers, but he never lifts it.

“You got burnt,” Trevor says, sounding stupid. His eyes follow the branding on Honey’s skin. It has to hurt.

Honey leans in, getting into Trevor’s gaze. She blinks at him like she’s waving hello. “Baby, I got my nipples pierced,” she says. “A little burn isn’t going to hurt me.”

There it is. That ‘baby’ again.

Trevor goes from one trance to another, reminded of the silver bars adorning her chest. She gets so responsive when he sucks them. That’s why he likes them so much. She whines and curses and tugs on his hair and squirms when he nibbles on the accessories. It’s the only time she loses her composure completely, all because of Trevor. 

His eyes fix on the little bow keeping her shirt together. He considers it. Does he dare untie her now? This road is pretty secluded, and it’s getting late…

“You had better not try to untie this bow,” Honey threatens, sounding absolutely aghast. She clutches at the bow, covering the ties completely so that Trevor can’t even grab them. She inches away from him. 

“I wasn’t!” Trevor denies. He’s not very convincing.

“Oh, you’re so–” Honey cuts herself off, shaking her head. 

“I’m so what?” Trevor asks.

Honey, still covering the bow between her lovely tits, uses her free hand to crawl over the center console and into the back seat. “I have to get away from you,” she says. 

“What?” Trevor grabs her ankle. “You can’t get away from me at a time like this,” he says, using his other hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. He goes to follow Honey. “You’re injured!”

Honey collapses on the back seat, pulling her legs back and dragging Trevor along. She laughs as he stumbles a little and kneels half-on the seat and half-on the ground. His hand is still attached to her ankle, spreading her thighs.

They seem to realize the position they’re in at the same time. Honey’s jaw drops and Trevor just smiles. He palms over her calves, then up to her thighs, pushing them even further apart. It’s like his three texts were three wishes from a genie, or three Herculean feats he has to overcome before getting Honey into his bed for the whole night. 

I want to eat you out, Trevor had said then. And now, his wish is coming true.

Honey’s pants are in the way. Trevor’s too respectful to just rip them, so he just rubs over her clothed center with his thumb. He bites his lip. 

“Make you feel better?” Trevor jokes feebly, not sure what line will work on Honey. It might be too cheesy. 

It is.

Honey scoffs. “More like make it up to me,” she declares, shuffling around and pushing her waistband over her hips. Trevor takes over from there, getting his hands on her ass and helping her out. “Seem to remember that you didn’t make me come the other day.”

“Oh, are you ready to beg?” Trevor asks, perking up. He stops his movements, her lower half just short of exposed. 

She wasn’t expecting him to one-up her, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t beg for the things that I’ve earned.”

“Earned?” Trevor scoffs. He pulls away, securing her waistband above her hips and covering her. “Baby, you didn’t even try.” 

Now, it’s a game of wills. 

“I’ll remind you how to follow the rules,” Trevor adds. He finally brings the joint, which he steals from Honey, to his mouth, crawling up her body as he inhales. He sits back, spreading his legs a bit, and pats his thigh. With his other hand, he takes the blunt from his lips and exhales. “Come gimme a kiss,” he invites, tapping the corner of his mouth. 

“Don’t piss me off,” Honey replies like a warning. Still, despite the disapproving tilt of her mouth, she makes her way over to Trevor and crawls between his legs. 

Instead of sitting on his lap, she just sits in a little ball, knees pressed against her chest between his legs. Her back is against his front and she plucks the joint from his fingers, placing it between her lips. He has to shift on the seat, moving so they’re sitting along the row instead of facing forward. Trevor’s legs are outstretched toward the opposing window, through which he can see a few tree trunks and then utter blackness.

“It’s kind of freaky, how alone we are out here,” Trevor ponders. 

Honey crinkles her nose. “Sounds like something a serial killer would say.” She leans her head back on Trevor’s collarbone, blowing the smoke in the air like she did in the basement. It drifts right into Trevor’s space and he turns his head to avoid it. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Trevor says. “I don’t mind.”

Honey doesn’t reply to that. She scoffs a little and rolls her eyes, taking another hit of the joint. It’s a small one– probably the smallest one Honey rolled, but it’s plenty for them to share. 

“I’m serious, though. It gets so dark up here. I’m still not used to it,” Trevor continues. 

“You never get used to it,” Honey says. “But it’s nice, I think.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agrees. He bundles her up in his arms and presses a kiss to her temple. 

She breathes in again. On her exhale, she speaks. Her voice has grown quieter, more thoughtful. “When I came up here as a kid, all I ever wanted was someone to play with,” she says. “But I like the silence and darkness up here, now. Sometimes I feel like nothing that happens here is real. It doesn’t count.”

Trevor gets what she’s saying. Litchton is like a bubble– the only things that exist in the bubble are the things that are actually here. Everything else is other-worldly. They train all the time, but sometimes even hockey doesn’t feel real to Trevor. The realest thing he has in Litchton is the girl in his arms. 

“Is that why you came here?” Trevor asks. “After everything that happened?”

Honey shrugs, prodding Trevor’s hand with the blunt until he takes it back. “I just needed to get away.”

Trevor hums as he inhales. 

Honey continues. “I’ve been thinking about that year a lot more often than normal, lately.”

“Oh, you have?”

“Mhm. I was talking with Bea after I told you everything, you know, and it was just, like, a weird realization. I think about then and I think about now and I think I’m so different. I’m not, really, but I changed fundamentally that year.”

“How could you not?” Trevor asks. “It sounded like it was really hard.”

“It wasn’t just that, though,” Honey says. She’s a little louder now, a little more angry. She struggles to find her words. “It’s like– I look back at the person I was then and I know it’s me, and I know it all happened to me, but none of it feels real because that version of me doesn’t exist anymore. I got rid of her when I came here. She wasn’t– necessary.” Honey laughs to herself, burying her face in her hands. “God, I sound like a crazy person. Forget I said any of that.”

The only way Trevor will ever forget what Honey said is if this weed knocks him on his ass tomorrow morning. He agrees, not wanting to start a fight, but how could he forget this? That Honey feels like she left herself behind when she moved to Litchton, and that all of her past seems fabricated?

“I can feel you still thinking about it,” Honey interrupts, turning her head so her nose nudges Trevor’s neck. “Guess neither of us are good at following rules.”

Trevor takes another hit from the blunt before passing it back to Honey. “Guess not,” he murmurs. He wonders if she can feel his heartbeat. He’s, all of a sudden, very aware of his racing heart against Honey’s back, and he blames the high. He should really be done for the day. Honey’s presence is making him stiff and warm and the weed is making him tired and lazy. The combination is not ideal.

“How many have I missed?” Honey asks, twisting the joint between her fingers.

“Hm?” Trevor answers. She pulled him from his thoughts, so he barely heard what she said.

Honey chuckles quietly. “How many times did you take a hit,” Honey clarifies. She brings the joint to her lips and breathes in. “Need to know how many kisses I owe you,” she continues on her exhale.

Trevor perks up. “A million,” he quips. 

“Mm, wow,” Honey reacts sarcastically. She inspects the roll between her fingers, growing smaller by the second. “The never-ending joint. I didn’t know they made those.”

“Willy Wonka is opening a dispensary. Candy sales are going down and weed is a growing industry,” Trevor jokes. “He’s got the Oompa-Loompas in the greenhouse pruning the marijuana trees.”

Honey laughs, a loud one pulled from her chest. Trevor watches as her eyes squint shut and her throat moves with the sound. He brings a hand up to trace the line of her neck, just to feel her move. He doesn’t miss the shift of her breath when he makes contact, icy fingers skimming across warm skin. 

Trevor looks at Honey when her breath hitches, tearing his eyes away from his fingers contrasting her neck, really looks at her. He likes the way she blinks up at him with his hand here. He likes that she stopped everything to look up at him with wide, awe-inspired eyes. At least, that’s what he thinks he’s seeing. Maybe he just really likes when his hand is on Honey’s neck.

He leans down to kiss her slightly, using his touch to pull her up the rest of the way. She sighs into his mouth, practically breathing into his lungs. The movement isn’t enough. Trevor needs to hear her say that she likes this. He’s so close to hearing her beg. He pulls away, breaking the moment.

Honey frowns.

Trevor takes his hand away, albeit a little reluctantly. It falls to her shoulder before settling in her lap, right next to her hand. He touches her knuckle, on the burn. 

“Your hand okay?” He queries softly.

Honey frowns even more deeply. “My hand’s fine.”

“I feel bad that you burned yourself,” Trevor says.

“Nine hundred, ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine more kisses to go,” Honey implores impatiently.

It takes a minute for the number to comprehend in Trevor’s mind. He has to think over it five times before he is sure that he’s interpreting it right. One less than a million, he finally thinks. Got it.

Trevor laughs and pecks her mouth, quick as can be. He waits.

After a minute, Honey’s indignance increases. “999,998 more kisses to go,” she says. 

The number is a lot easier to comprehend the second time around. Trevor plops another kiss on her mouth. 

The more she pouts, the more he smiles. It’s an infinite loop that only breaks once Honey squirms in Trevor’s arms, twisting to face him. They lost the blunt in all of this. Trevor hopes Honey snuffed it out someplace. That would be bad if she didn’t. But she’s smart, so she probably did.

“I think we should go in the house,” Honey whispers conspiratorially. She leans to kiss Trevor, a little softer than the past few. It’s a ghost of her lips, really.

“999,997,” Trevor replies, pulling her down by the hem of her shirt. He steals another kiss before letting her pull away.

Honey makes herself all pretty in front of him– barely changing a thing, just looking at him through her lashes.

“What’s that look?” Trevor asks with a laugh, smearing his hand across her cheek to break her focus.

“Wanna go inside?” Honey invites, tilting her head. It’s a thinly veiled request.

It’s close enough to a plead, for now. Trevor nods, taking another kiss from the girl before she goes to the door on her side of the car. He has to roll a bit to exit on his side, rushing to get back to his spot near Honey. 

She grabs her keys and phone, leaving everything else in the car. Trevor’s keys are in his pocket, probably, just in case the boys locked the door. Trevor doubts that they did– they’re probably still downstairs, watching some movie that they happened upon on cable. Maybe Family Feud. Cole has been loving Family Feud lately.

They make it back in the house easily, tiptoeing a bit over the creaky wooden steps and floorboards. Honey holds Trevor’s hand.

He has her on the bed in moments, his lips on hers. Trevor lays her head across his pillows, hovering above her. He wants her spread out below him, falling apart because of him.

“Can I?” Trevor asks, touching the string of her bow, twisting the end between his pinched fingers but never pulling.

Honey nods, arching her back so her chest presses into his touch. She’s kissing him again. 

He tugs until her shirt is falling open. Her sternum appears, plus the curves along her breast, and Trevor jumps forward to mark the unblemished skin. 

Her fingers find his hair and guide him. He pushes the fabric out of his way, feeling for her jewelry. His fumbling fingertips find it and rest, lightly pinching the skin.

Honey moans softly, grinding against his bulge, pressed right against her spread legs. Even with the clothes, he knows that she can feel him… and that she likes it. He doesn’t need to be cocky, but where’s the fun in that?

“Let me get my mouth on you,” Trevor says, letting his kisses fall lower and lower.

“Your mouth– is on me,” Honey sasses, breath hitching weakly in the middle of her sentence. 

Trevor pauses and bites his lip to stop a laugh from escaping him. She’s really making him work for this. He rephrases. “Let me get my tongue in you.” He continues his path, kissing down Honey’s stomach. 

Honey’s hips jump when his lips find her abdomen. He kisses as close as he can near the waistband of her bottoms, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric. 

“Okay,” Honey breathes. She’s trembling a bit, trying to keep her hips still. Trevor can feel the effort. 

He smooths his hands over her skin, then under the fabric of her panties. He lets his palm find her tramp stamp before he pulls her clothing off to reveal her lower half. 

He can’t bear to wait any longer, but if he had more resolve, he’d kiss every inch of her again before finding her cunt. As much as Trevor wants to give her that reverence, he also wants to give her an orgasm.

He fits his mouth over her clit, licking over her bundle of nerves slowly. His index finger traces between her lips, spreading her folds and finding her entrance. This, Trevor takes his time with. He wants to taste her forever. He wants to touch her forever. If he could relive this moment over and over for the rest of time, he would. 

He pushes his finger inside, burying himself in the tight squeeze of her walls. He blinks like he’s in a dream, long and slow, not sure whether it’s worse to look away from her or lean into the drowsiness of the moment. He feels drugged on Honey, not just off the weed they smoked.

His middle finger prods at Honey, slipping into her cunt with a slight stretch. She reacts to it, but only seeks more. Trevor would give her everything. That’s why his tongue leaves her clit to fulfill his original goal– to get inside of her. She moans when he does and Trevor nearly combusts on the spot. 

Trevor laps at her wetness, fingers buried into her warm cunt almost lazily. He's pumping them in and out of her like it's nothing, like it's the natural instinct only-thing-he-can-do on an atomic level. Everything is amplified and red and pulsing because of the weed he consumed two hours prior and her warm, warm, and wet skin surrounding his fingers. 

He pauses to bite his lip, feeling the glue of his permanent retainer scrape against his chapped skin. Then, he returns to Honey's clit, flicking it with the flat of his tongue, mouth closing over her and worshiping her. His fingers beckon her forward, towards him, and she moves beneath him.

She rolls her hips with the press of his fingertips to her insides, a stuttered little gasp breaking her whine. 

Trevor's eyes flutter open and hazily, all clouded with lust, he finds her face. Her eyes are locked on his and her mouth is open. Her chest is heaving, smooth skin rising and falling in Trevor's view. The bars through her nipples catch the pale light from his lamplight in the corner of the room, glinting across his vision. 

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor says.

Honey blinks at him, but pulls at the fabric anyway. It’s a hassle, but she removes the top. She’s wearing nothing, completely naked in front of him. Trevor realizes he’s wearing all of his clothes and decides he has to remedy that immediately. 

He pulls back enough to shuffle his arm through the hole in his t-shirt. He can still kitten-lick over her clit, at least until his fingers are free again. He’s never able to part from her completely. It would just be cruel to derive her of his pleasure, if she’s feeling the same thing Trevor is feeling.

His fingers are inside her again and he uses the other hand to pull his shirt off and struggle with his sweatpants. Once his shirt is gone, he seals his lips over her clit again and sucks until she’s whining and lifting her hips off the bed. Her jewelry glints again.

"Touch your tits," Trevor mumbles, barely lifting his head from between her legs.

"What?" Honey asks, just barely audible to Trevor over the sound of her fingers running through his hair, clenching down behind his ear to lead his tongue across her clit again. 

Trevor groans, not wanting to part with her skin. "Touch your tits," he directs louder, diving back to gather the liquid that drips between his fingers with his tongue. It settles on his tongue and he hums, eyes closing. His eyes open again, lids heavier than before.

Honey's listening so intently, but the words aren't registering. She's too caught up in the feeling of Trevor's mouth against her, eager to please her. He's glad to know he's not the only one who is losing himself in the moment, feeling like no time is passing at all despite every second feeling so long.

Trevor's happy to help her out. He’s managed to get his pants down to his knees, along with his boxers now. He’s got an occupied hand. 

With his free hand, he reaches up from her thigh and feels out her body. He traces the curves of her hips and stomach to her waist and chest, slowing down as he nears her peaks. Carefully, even removing his mouth from her clit to make sure he isn’t distracted, Trevor sweeps a thumb over her pierced nipple. 

She springs to action, feeling it immediately. His pinch has her squeaking, both hands in his hair as she drags him up to her mouth.

He comes willingly, smiling until her mouth clashes against his. He's laughing a little bit at the ferocity, his fingers dancing inside her merrily, making the kiss all the more messy when Honey groans. Then she clenches down when his hand meets her other nipple. It's a vicious cycle, one that quickens when Honey starts grinding her hips. Trevor slows his movements and lets her sweat a little, working herself up with furious twitches of her hips.

"Trevor," Honey pouts, pulling him out of his trance. She insistently rolls her hips again, her bottom lip jetting out as she looks up at him.

Trevor pulls back, eyes widening a little as he comes back to himself. Honey's face clears in his sight like he's fixing a telescope. Her eyes are starry like the sky, too.

He's trying to identify the look on her face, blinking blankly. 

Her eyelashes are so dark, he realizes. She must have put on mascara today.

"Trevor," Honey whines again, her hips circling. 

He notices his fingers have stilled inside her and that she's whining at the loss.

Like she's begging for him.

She confirms it with one word. A beautiful, whispered “Please.”

Trevor's fingers are out and the tip of his cock is in without hesitation. His lips slide against hers as she breathes in and he breathes out. He presses further, fingers splayed across her back to pull her up, chest against chest.

They're touching everywhere and Trevor can do nothing but hope and pray that she's feeling the same way he is right now. Bea's church trips might actually be rubbing off on him.

There's no other way to describe it: Trevor must have earned a miracle, somehow. He only ever feels like he fits in the world when he's playing hockey and that pales in comparison to being inside Honey, to feeling her come while wrapped in his arms. 

Nothing has ever felt so right in his life. Something changes in Trevor in that instant– everything aligns. It’s like what Honey said before– about leaving her old self behind when she came to Litchton. Trevor understands now because he feels the same way. Now that he’s been here– now that he’s been with her, he knows he can never be without her again.

44:90 – HONEY

She wakes up with Trevor leaking out of her. He's still pressed against her, like the night before, but this time he's plastered against her back rather than pulling her up to his chest. He's still pulling. It's her hips this time, back so that his morning wood can slide between her dripping lips.

It's nice for a minute as her drowsy sleep wears off, the last remnants of her high trickling away like fairy dust into the night. She feels quite floaty with it, but allows the last wisp of her high to go on without her.

Her eyes register the light and she flinches, overcome with energy. She frantically finds the old alarm clock on Trevor's bedside table, the numbers flashing in the corner with each second. It's early, early enough for the sun to be a sliver on the horizon and a thought in a baker's head, but later than Honey intended to stay. She has to get out of here.

She goes to move, but Trevor's arm keeps her in place. He tilts his hips forward. “Baby,” he breathes in his slumber, like a dream. His nose nudges her ear. She melts back against him, then catches herself. She has to get out of this house before Quinn gets up to take a shower. 

Honey wakes Trevor when she escapes his grasp, leaving him to blink up sleepily as she gathers up her clothes: a shirt, bottoms and her underwear from the night before. She scrambles to get them on, sparing a glance at the dimly smiling Trevor, who is stretching under the covers. 

He's admiring her so intently, a daft and tiny smile on his face that distracts Honey and makes her shiver. He's always so– pleased. It's the moments like these that make Honey wonder if she's getting sucked too far into his world. She keeps chasing these looks like a drug, addicted to her next hit.

“I'll see you on Friday,” she whispers to him, bending down to smooth his hair out of his face. She’s pretty busy until then, with work and such. Today, she’s meant to go out with Quinn. 

Trevor tilts his head up and his nose pokes the corner of her lip. She catches his jaw in her hands and fixes his face so his lips are poised in front of her. She pecks his pursed, chapped bottom lip and pulls away so quick that it leaves him frowning.

He's thinking, hard, even as her touch leaves him and she tiptoes to the door. “Friday?” He asks. “That's not enough to tide me over until Friday,” he complains, pulling Honey's pillow down to hug against his chest. He presses the corner of the pillow to his lips, smiling at her when she sighs.

Honey comes back and kisses him once more, with tongue, just to leave him stupid enough to stay quiet until she's gone.

At least she's not covered in marks this time, since she's meeting Quinn in a few hours to shop for Bea's birthday gift. She doesn’t have to pull out her sleeveless turtleneck again. Realistically, she can go open The Reading Nook in this outfit and work until Bea appears. It’s then that she’ll switch places with the girl and plant herself in the passenger seat of Quinn’s car.

Honey decides to drive straight to the Nook. She and Bea stashed a box in one of the cabinets years ago with deodorant and toothpaste and the other essentials for life as a girl. 

Ada made fun of them, but once she got a paper cut and didn’t have a band-aid in her purse, so she dipped into their stash. The tables turned then– Honey and Bea gained the upper hand. They gifted Ada her own box the following week, smirking like they were acting smart. She nearly sent them running with her disapproving eye roll, but she thanked them afterward.

Honey unlocks the door and scoops up the magazine from the stoop. She nods and smiles at a man jogging by. He returns the look. The sun is nearly risen now and everything is pink. The brick wall of the Nook seems to glow. She locks the door behind her again.

The Nook has gathered more dust since they took such a long weekend. It takes Honey a little while longer than it normally does to sweep and dust the shelves. She opens the store as quickly as she can– but she still doesn’t have enough time to herself before the Founding Women come knocking.

Three minutes is all she has to brush her teeth, her hair, and throw on some deodorant. Honey rushes to do so, multitasking as best she can. With one hand, she’s brushing her teeth and with the other, she’s scrambling to find the handheld mirror that Bea set in the bin after checking her teeth for seeds the other day. 

“Damn it, where are you,” Honey asks aloud, as if the mirror can reply. 

Her hand brushes the handle and she pulls it out, catching the glare of the light and blinding herself for a second. She blinks to clear her vision, shaking her head a bit. She finally looks in the mirror, bracing herself for the likely appalling state of her hair. 

Oh. Okay. It’s not that bad.

She puts the mirror down and finishes brushing her teeth, spitting the toothpaste and applying deodorant before picking up the mirror again. She fluffs the hair on the back of her head, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips at her own reflection. Her eyes go lower, to inspect her neck and make sure Trevor didn’t leave anything behind that she couldn’t see before in the dark. 

It’s then that she regrets driving straight to her place of work. In her fervor this morning to escape the rental house before Quinn woke up, Honey didn’t grab the right clothes. She grabbed her underwear and her favorite athletic skirt, but the shirt she threw on was not hers. It’s the second time she’s worn Trevor’s shirt after hooking up with him and Honey is starting to wonder if she’s accidentally-doing-it-on-purpose. 

It’s a plain white t-shirt, pretty much. There’s a logo on the front breastbone of a platypus-looking duck mask in the center of an upside-down triangle. Honey squints at it in the mirror, then looks down at her chest with her own two eyes. The shirt is big, sure, and she had absentmindedly tucked the back of it into the waistband of her shorts while she was dusting, so she should’ve known it wasn’t hers. She showed up to Trevor’s place yesterday in a shirt that ties in the front. Yes, that was on purpose.

This mishap was not. Now she’s having to scramble to make the shirt look natural and hers before Sacha comes knocking at the door. 

Honey uses the mirror to tuck and untuck the back of the top into something a person might see an influencer wearing at the gym. She doesn’t like the style, but it’s necessary. She can’t look as out of place as she feels, wearing Trevor’s clothing. People will really start to suspect something. She knows the ladies suspect– but she can’t have it getting out.

Honey frowns and whines at herself in the mirror, tossing her head back on her shoulders and feeling her face crumble. She places the mirror down and covers her face with both hands. 

She’s so stupid. This is exactly what Honey sought to avoid after Thomas. She knows herself. She knows that she gets caught up in what’s happening and she starts to neglect the other parts of her life. She came to Litchton to be independent and put-together, not like the child that sent her naked pictures out just for it to come back and bite her in the butt. Wearing Trevor’s shirt is not the same as that, but Honey can’t believe that she made this mistake. One mistake like this just leads to more, which leads to a snowball effect, which ends in Honey moving towns and starting over. She’s done this before and she refuses to do it again.

Honey is stuck in her head as she lets Sacha and Gillian in, mumbling some incoherent response and giving the half-hearted kisses on the cheek when they enter The Reading Nook. As Vera, Scarlett, and Rosalind make their way into the Nook, she greets them the same way. Then, she hides behind the cash register, reading her book. She’s still reading that romance book. 

Twenty minutes of flustered page-flipping and fake reading later, Bea walks in the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Honey sighs, hopping down from her stool and stashing her book underneath the counter. 

“Is that–” Bea starts, having barely let the door shut behind her.

“Don’t,” Honey interrupts, pointing a finger in Bea’s face as she passes her. She wrenches open the door, despising the cheerful, twinkling bell that she installed years ago. She stomps to Quinn’s car, throwing open the passenger door and climbing in. She slams the door behind her.

“Good morning, Honey,” Quinn greets quietly, his voice gruff like he’s still fighting off sleep. Honey doesn’t reply– he doesn’t need it, and she’s still feeling weird. He peels away from the curb, heading back down the mountain. They pass the rental house and Honey’s pulse spikes when they do.

She feels abnormally sick as they drive down the mountain, still stuck on the fact that she’s wearing Trevor’s shirt. Now, she’s worried about how it looks to be wearing Trevor’s shirt in front of Quinn, in public. 

It’s one thing in the comfort of her own home. That’s why she didn’t freak out last time she accidentally stole Trevor’s shirt– or, at least, not verbally. She barely spoke the whole time Trevor was there, humming occasionally to answer his questions and reading a sentence aloud of her book when he asked. He didn’t notice her discomfort. He doesn’t know that she took his shirt off as soon as he closed the front door behind him, shoving it deep in the back of her closet and hoping to forget about the incident entirely. 

Trevor also doesn’t know that she’s slept in his shirt twice since then. It’s supposed to be some form of exposure therapy, but Honey just feels icky each morning after.

And now, she doesn’t even have a change of clothes. At home, she can rip off his shirt and replace it with her own, but here? In the Nook? In Quinn’s car? There’s nothing. Honey just has to face it. It’s not going well.

She’s gone silent and she doesn’t think Quinn minds, but the silence is starting to suffocate her.

“Where are we going?” Honey asks, clearing her throat. There’s a lump in her throat that won’t disappear. 

“The mall in Charlotte,” Quinn replies.

“Charlotte,” Honey repeats, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. “Why Charlotte?”

“Because the store I googled was there,” Quinn says curtly. 

“I told you that there’s a store she’d like in Winston,” Honey says.

“I found something I thought she’d like,” Quinn says. 

“Then why am I here?” Honey snaps.

Quinn looks over at Honey, a perturbed side-eye that has her glowering. He raises his eyebrows, then faces the street again. “We can go to Winston. We’re not even on the highway yet. We have time.”

“Well, good, because we’re going to Winston,” Honey says in a huff. She crosses her arms over her chest and sits back in the passenger seat. It’s obvious that Bea sat there last because the seat is practically laying back. She must have tried to sleep on the short car ride over. How futile.

Quinn scoffs and laughs a bit, rolling his eyes. Honey takes the consolation, but she doesn’t like being laughed at. 

She cranks up the radio as loud as she can stand and rolls her window down. She lets the wind whip at her hair until it’s tangled, and gross, and she has to tie it up. Then, she rolls up her window and lays back in the seat, throwing her hands over her eyes.

Quinn is perfectly content to sit in silence during the drive to Winston-Salem. He sings along softly with the radio, just enough that Honey can hear him. At first, she wonders if he’s singing at all and if she’s just hearing the backup singers and harmonies like they’re 3D, but then she looks over and sees his lips moving and his thumbs tapping the wheel. 

He looks handsome. In this light, laying down in his passenger seat, Honey wishes life was as easy for her as it is for Bea. She knows that Bea has her own problems and her own sorrows, but Honey wishes that her life could be so simple. Bea was never traumatized by an evil ex and never had her nudes leaked. She’s able to wear Quinn’s clothes without overthinking it. Better yet, she’s able to have sex with anyone she wants, including her boyfriend’s brother. 

Honey realizes, in that moment, that she detests Bea. It’s not a permanent hatred. She’s just so jealous. Trevor would never take Bea out to go shopping for Honey’s birthday, and yet, here she is, wearing his shirt.

Honey breaks, tugging at the hem of the too-big shirt. 

“Can we stop somewhere and get me a new shirt while we’re out?” Honey asks.

Quinn draws his eyebrows together before he looks over. “Why?” He takes his eyes off the road for just a second to inspect Honey’s shirt. “Is it stained or something?” 

As soon as he looks away, he does a double-take, and Honey wishes she had never brought it up.

“Are you wearing–”

“Don’t,” Honey growls.

“Trevor’s shirt?” Quinn finishes, smirking evilly. “So I guess your relationship isn’t all that secret.”

“I’m not wearing it on purpose,” Honey hisses. “I accidentally grabbed it this morning.”

“This morning?” Quinn asks, a crooked smile overtaking his face. “Where were you this morning?”

Honey snarls in his direction, grinding her teeth. 

“I thought you were inviting your, uh, dating app guy over to your place. Don’t you have clothes at your place?” Quinn teases.

He means well, is the thing. Honey knows that he’s just joking with her like he would with any of his friends, but he doesn’t know that she’s seeing red.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Honey tells him resolutely. 

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says easily. Honey doesn’t believe that he’ll let it go, just based on the quirk of his lips as he continues to drive. 

Honey’s lucky because they’re only a few minutes outside of Winston now and Quinn can hold his tongue for a few minutes. Soon enough, they’ll be surrounded by jewelry and he’ll be so confused that he has to let it go, unless he doesn’t want Honey to help him.

When they pull into the parking lot and Honey lets herself out of the vehicle, Trevor’s shirt falls even more loosely around her. Or, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s just Quinn’s laughter that makes her feel like she’s drowning in the fabric. Even Trevor’s scent around her isn’t comforting. It’s just making her feel worse, reminding her that this shirt is not hers and it does not belong on her body.

Honey tugs at the hem of the shirt almost constantly, untucking it and retucking it until she understands how foolish she must look. She stands more stiffly as Quinn talks to the sales associate, describing what he would like to buy. There’s a moment when the associate asks if the bracelet is for Honey, which leaves them both denying her in earnest. 

“Her shirt might be my size, but it’s not mine,” Quinn says, which throws Honey back into her silence and makes her frown. It’s not what he said, because that’s completely true, but it’s the disdain in his voice when she says it.

His words are an answer to the question that she rarely ever lets her ask herself. Honey is not desirable. Trevor is a fluke. Ordinarily, Honey would remind herself that Trevor’s leaving in six weeks anyway, so it doesn’t matter. 

Today, for some fucked up reason, Trevor’s opinion matters a lot to Honey. She’d be positively shattered if he’s only fucking her because he can. When he leaves at the end of the summer, he’ll probably move on and start fucking other girls, and he’ll completely forget about Honey and Litchton altogether.

Honey can’t let that happen. She can’t let herself fall apart for a second time over another fucking boy. She and Trevor are just hooking up– and if she can’t get that through her head, then it’ll have to stop. She’ll just have to stop seeing him before he stops seeing her.

Yeah, that’ll work. 

Honey is satisfied with the decision. She’ll stop seeing Trevor. She’ll get home, take this shirt off, and deliver it back to him later this week, along with the other one that she accidentally stole. It’ll be like when you give another child a gift at a birthday party, just so that they don’t feel left out. 

She feels better for a little while. She’s able to shop around with Quinn, looking at the bracelets he likes and telling him which ones Bea would certainly not like. She even identifies the ones that Bea would like… but wouldn’t wear.

Eventually, they settle on a tiny gold bracelet decorated with five equidistant pink heart-shaped charms. It’s more expensive than anything Honey has ever bought for Bea, but hey, she’s not Bea’s suitor. Nor is she a rich man, and Quinn is a premier athlete. He’s sitting on some big bucks and Honey knows it.

She ignores every time Quinn makes a comment about the shirt, which he does each chance he gets. He mentions it in the store, while they shop around, as Honey models bracelets to see how they would fit on Bea, when they get in the car, and even while he drives them back towards Litchton and towards Trevor, who is the source of all of Honey’s anxiety at the moment.

She knows that Quinn is just teasing. She knows that he’s poking fun at her the way an older brother would. She knows that it isn’t meant to hurt her feelings and that he doesn’t know that she’s freaking out, completely surrounded in her mind by evil doubts and nagging, gremlin-like voices.

She can’t hear it any longer. Honey physically cannot bear to hear another quip from Quinn about her borrowed t-shirt. She cannot hear another mention of Trevor’s name. It only makes her feel worse, reminding her that she has decided to end this for her own good. The look on Trevor’s face when she tells him that it has to be over– oh, Honey might be sick. Honey might be sick if Quinn keeps talking, too.

After a final mumbled, snorted comment from Quinn, Honey slams her fist down on the arm rest and lifts her eyes to the ceiling of his car. Her eyes are stinging and it takes everything in Honey not to burst into tears right there. 

“God, Quinn, would you quit it with the comments?” She demands. 

Her throat is tight and she has to talk through her teeth to keep herself from chattering. She hugs herself, rubbing over the goosebumps on her triceps. She has to reach under Trevor’s sleeve to get to her skin– that’s how big and wrong his shirt feels on her body. The fabric is too long and too baggy and the part that she tucked into her skirt is digging into the small of her back. Honey brings her thumb up to her mouth and bites the pad of the digit, pinching her skin together. She stares stubbornly out the window, glaring at the trees along the highway. She sees Quinn look at her in her reflection and Honey avoids eye contact, biting her skin even harder. It’s stopping her lip from wobbling. She couldn’t bear to cry in front of Quinn, but today has just been– really, really hard for her.

First, she woke up wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, she had to be seen in public wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, Quinn teased her for wearing Trevor’s clothes. Now, the shirt is digging into her back and she’s about to cry because she really, really doesn’t want to give it back. She really, really doesn’t want her relationships to be so hard, but she can’t stop herself. She’s still not patched back up from Thomas and that’s why she can’t be with Trevor. She wants so badly to be with Trevor the way that Bea is with Quinn, but she just can’t. 

Quinn stays silent for a few minutes. Honey hears the song on the radio change twice. 

The silence becomes too uncomfortable for her after Quinn checks in on her a second time, this time taking a hand off the steering wheel like he meant to touch her and comfort her. He lets it drop to the gearshift when he thinks better of touching her.

“And it smells in here,” Honey complains, voicing up about the thought that’s been running through her head since she got in the car outside of The Reading Nook this morning. She’s grumbling by the end of her sentiment. “I thought Trevor’s car was the equipment car.”

“Always thinking about Trevor, huh,” Quinn says quietly.

“Stop,” Honey says.

“Okay.” Quinn shrugs.

Silence.

Quinn looks her way again, less than thirty seconds later. “No. Not okay,” he decides. “What’s wrong with you? What did he do that has you so upset?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Honey mumbles, still facing the window.

“Honey, come on,” Quinn scoffs. “What’s the deal? You’re wearing his shirt and you look more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen you. That’s not right.”

“Right,” Honey repeats. She finally turns to him, incredulous and fired up. He doesn’t know when to stop. He’s crossing all these lines and Honey can’t stand it. “What the fuck do you know about ‘right?’ Your girlfriend is fucking everyone else in that damn house.”

“You don’t know shit about our relationship,” Quinn replies, an edge in his voice. 

“And you don’t know shit about mine,” Honey snaps. She glares at him, grinding her teeth and fighting back a burning threat of tears at her waterline. 

“Well, fucking explain it to me,” Quinn snarls. “That’s why I asked in the first place.”

Honey is taken aback by his response. She hesitates. 

“Look, Bea won’t tell me anything about– what happened to you,” Quinn says, his tone disjointed and careful. “And I haven’t asked about it more than once, but I have to ask now. Why are you so– hesitant to like him? We can all tell that he likes you and you… feel something for him, but I can tell you’re not committing to this. Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” Honey deflects, voice hard.

“Honey.” 

Quinn’s voice is insistent. He pinches his lips together and tilts his head at her, imploring her with just a blink of his eyes.

“My last boyfriend sucked, okay?” Honey exclaims, turning to face the window again. She means to hide her tears, but her sniffle gives it away. She really should’ve considered that before she did it. “He sucked,” she says quieter. “And I really, really loved him. I really, really trusted him.”

Quinn stays quiet, letting Honey ruminate on her words.

“He–” Honey takes a sharp breath, shaking her head to herself. “He did everything he could to ruin my life.”

Honey can hear Quinn’s blinks and his consistent breath. He keeps taking deep inhales like he’s going to say something, then decides against it and lets the inhale go. 

“So I have trouble–” her voice breaks on the word, “–committing to Trevor. If that’s the word we’re using. Not that you know anything about commitment.”

“I’m committed,” Quinn replies, the first thing he’s said in minutes. He says it with a defensive edge. “I’m committed.”

The repetition rubs Honey the wrong way, just for a moment before Quinn interrupts the process of Honey forming a confused expression.

“So’s Trevor, by the way,” Quinn adds. “Don’t let his douchey texts fool you. He’s not ‘just fucking’ you. He’s just a moron that doesn’t know how to talk to a girl he really likes.”

“Trevor is leaving at the end of the summer,” Honey says carefully. “I can’t–” She shakes her head, cutting herself off. She takes a breath and picks right back up. “I can’t let myself get my hopes up. I’m not gonna– like some guy just to be left in the dirt again.”

“What is it with you guys and thinking we’d leave you?” Quinn asks, shaking his head like he’s in disbelief, eyes still on the road. The words come out of him in a rush and his subsequent sealed lips tell Honey everything she needs to know.

Honey pauses, mind seeming to clear for a split second. “You’ve talked about this with Bea,” she observes, feeling like her voice is far away. 

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose, then moves his hair off of his forehead. “Yeah,” he says.

“What did…? She’s…?” Honey isn’t sure which question is the right one, so she gives up on both.

Quinn forces a little smile onto his face. Honey’s body turns cold because she knows that face. He’s picked up Bea’s idiosyncracy, where she tries to deliver terrible news in a positive way so she doesn’t hurt the other person’s feelings. “She won’t leave Litchton until she knows you’re okay,” Quinn tells Honey. 

“I’m okay,” Honey says.

“You’re not.” Quinn’s smile tilts with laughter, making it much more real. “She knows you’re not.”

Honey falters. “I’m– being in a new relationship after that is hard,” she insists. “But I’m doing it. I’m fine.”

Quinn nods at Honey in concession. When his eyes turn back to meet hers, Honey knows that he doesn’t blame her for this. It’s not something he has to tell her, which comforts her slightly. It calms her. He’s not angry or upset with her. He doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong.

They fall silent for another few minutes.

“Whatever, um, he did to you,” Quinn says after a while, treading lightly with his words and clearing his throat when he’s not sure he’s saying the right thing. “It wasn’t– you didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault.”

Honey breathes out a weak laugh. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Quinn says, reaching over and taking her hand, squeezing it when he talks again. “You didn’t– that never should’ve happened to you.”

Honey blinks, touched by how genuine and sincere he sounds. He’s still holding her hand. She shakes him free. “I know,” she repeats, her voice feeling strange in her mouth. She can practically feel the words forming and falling off her tongue. They’re so– tangible. 

Silence, again. This one is swifter. It’s Quinn who breaks it. Evidently, he feels as though the moment has passed and he can start teasing her again.

“Imagine how things would be if you weren’t all fucked up,” he says with a shit-eating smile.

Honey’s jaw drops and she starts to laugh, so thrown off by how blatant his statement is.

Quinn raises his pitch and speaks in a high voice, mocking Trevor. “‘Wanna eat u out baby’ and you would’ve let him! You would’ve run up those stairs with him in an instant!”

“Shut up!” Honey faux-gasps, reaching across the console to swat Quinn’s arm. “I would not have!”

“No, you’re right, you would’ve gone in the fucking closet!” Quinn shouts, pointing a finger in Honey’s direction. With his other hand, he clicks the turn signal on and takes the exit. Honey didn’t realize they’d been talking for so long. They’re almost home. “Don’t think I don’t know that you blew him in there!”

“I would never!” Honey shrieks, covering her mouth with her palm and squeezing her eyes shut from her laughter. Of course Bea told him about that.

Now that they’re laughing like real friends, Honey can’t stop. She also can’t bring herself to care that Quinn is teasing her. Now, she’s in on the joke. It’s– freeing.

“With the look on that fucker’s face?” Quinn tosses his thumb to the side like he’s pointing to an invisible Trevor. “It’s a miracle the other boys don’t know.”

Honey is able to reign in her giggles. “Thank you,” she says. “For not telling them, by the way. I don’t think Trevor or I have said that to you.”

Quinn’s laughter trails off, too. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs sincerely. The side of his lips tug up briefly before falling back into a serious line. He makes eye contact with Honey at the final light before home, ready to turn onto the main road that will carry them up the mountain. “I’m… happy for you guys.”

Honey smiles back, feeling her chest well up a little bit by how sweet he is. He deserves Bea, Honey thinks. She can’t think of anyone more deserving of her best friend. Quinn is special. Honey gets it. “I’m happy for you,” she replies. “You look really happy.”

Quinn blushes a bit, his gaze turning sheepish. He nods, a pout fighting and failing to obscure his smile. “She makes me happy.”

Honey nods. They don’t talk the rest of the way home.

45:90 – TREVOR

“I need you to go buy some stuff.”

Trevor looks up from his breakfast sandwich, still chewing his most recent bite. “What?” He asks, not sure if he heard Quinn correctly. 

“I need you to go buy some stuff,” Quinn repeats. He produces a handwritten list from his pocket, tossing the crumpled paper at Trevor.

“Why?” Trevor asks. 

“Because you can either go buy the supplies or you can decorate for the party,” Quinn says. “And I don’t think you want to decorate for the party.”

“What party?” Trevor takes another bite of his sandwich. This bite has an especially good amount of cheese in it. He hums in contentment.

Quinn furrows his eyebrows at Trevor. “Bea’s birthday party?” He reveals like it’s obvious.

“It’s Bea’s birthday?”

Quinn takes another pregnant pause before replying. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Trevor hums, taking another bite. “Cool.”

“Not today,” Quinn corrects. “Sunday. But the party is Friday.”

“Okay, well, it’s Wednesday. Why do I need to go shopping today?” Trevor asks.

Quinn scoffs and shakes his head. “Because I asked you to?”

Trevor makes a face. That’s not a good reason. He doesn’t want to buy anything for Bea’s party. He didn’t agree to throw a party for her. “Why do we have to throw?” Trevor questions. “She’s over here all the time anyway. Why do we have to decorate?”

Quinn clenches his jaw. “Because,” he explains through gritted teeth. “I want it to be special.”

Trevor looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. “Okay.” He returns to his sandwich, ignoring Quinn, who is still standing across from him. Over a minute later, Quinn is still there. Trevor shoves the last bite in his mouth and dusts off his hands, chewing harshly before speaking again.

“What else?” He asks.

“You need to dig out a suit,” Quinn says.

“A suit?” Trevor demands. “Why?”

“It’s the theme,” Quinn explains.

Trevor blanches. “It’s just the seven of us. Why do we need a theme?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Quinn says, rolling his eyes. “I can play, too. Don’t you know that this will benefit you, too?”

“How?” Trevor asks.

“Trevor,” Quinn sighs, scrubbing his face with both of his hands. “It’s a black-tie event. Honey’s going to wear a tight, black dress. You are going to get to see her in this tight, black dress. She will wear high heels. She will do her makeup and her hair. You get to see her all done up.”

Oh.

Trevor can picture it now and he’s salivating. He’s already plotting all of the ways that he can take her dress off.

“So if you don’t mind,” Quinn continues. “I need you to go get the decorations and I need you to find your suit.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Trevor decides, still a little starry eyed at the idea of Honey in a pretty, fancy dress. “I’ll go grab the stuff before hockey later.” 

They’re going down to Charlotte for a late night practice at the arena, running with some of the Checkers’ players as a mid-summer treat for the members of the team that stayed in Charlotte for the summer. It should be fun– especially since they’re able to play a full-strength scrimmage for the first time all summer. Trevor’s been looking forward to it since last week.

“Thanks,” Quinn tells Trevor as the boy walks past him. His appreciation is dry, but it’s said with a quirk of a smile. “Hey, by the way.” He touches Trevor’s elbow as he passes. “Honey’s a little, well, concerned.”

Trevor stops in his tracks and furrows his brow. “What do you mean, she’s concerned? About what? When did you talk to her?”

“Yesterday. We went to Winston-Salem. She told me about her ex,” Quinn says. 

Thomas. Trevor’s face contorts. He feels disgusted every time he thinks of that guy. How could he take someone as perfect as Honey and make her feel so terrible that she left town? If he could get his hands on Thomas…

“She’s just nervous about it,” Quinn finishes, shrugging. “Being with you after all of that.”

“I know,” Trevor says, his lip curled. He doesn’t need Quinn to tell him all of this. He doesn’t need Quinn to explain Honey’s feelings to him. Quinn doesn’t even know her– not as well as Trevor does, at least. Honey already told him everything. They’re moving at her pace already. Trevor isn’t doing anything to pressure her, yet, here Quinn is, talking to Trevor like he’s scolding him. “I don’t need you to tell me anything about Honey. We’ve got it all figured out.”

Quinn laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“She cried in my car,” Quinn says. “She cried in my car, Trevor.”

Trevor swallows a comeback and sets his jaw. He stalks past Quinn and out the door, moving in lurching movements as he climbs into his car and drives off, towards town.

What do you mean she cried in your car? Trevor asks Quinn in his head. What did you say that made her cry? She was fine the other night. Things have been fine. There’s nothing for her to worry about.

While driving, Trevor calls Honey. She doesn’t pick up the first time, but he calls her again. And again. He has to ask her why she cried and why she’s worried. What won’t Honey tell him and why not?

She picks up on his fourth call. Before she can say hello, Trevor is talking. “Why did you cry in Quinn’s car yesterday?” He asks.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “Good morning, Trevor,” Bea says. “Honey’s not able to come to the phone at the moment.”

“Why not?” Trevor demands. “And why do you always have her fucking phone when I’m trying to reach her?”

“You mean when you’re trying to sext her?” Bea replies. “She just doesn’t have pockets, bud. She’s out in the store right now.”

“I’m coming over.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Bea says. 

Trevor laughs dryly. “Why not,” he asks, voice so despondent that the question presents as a statement.

“She’s…” Bea hums, trying to decide what to say. “She’s having a bad day, Trev. Quinn did what he could yesterday. Once she was alone again, she got back in her head. Don’t come to the store today. I’m trying to convince her not to break up with you.”

“Break up with me?” Trevor repeats, his jaw dropping. “No.” He outright refuses. She can’t break up with him.

“I know, okay?” Bea says, lowering her voice. “She went farther than she’s ready to, so she’s trying to overcorrect by backing off completely. I’m going to take care of it. I’m not going to let her break it off with you. I need you to, just, God, Trev– I have to go. Just don’t come to the store today. I’m handling it.”

Bea hangs up and leaves Trevor with more questions than he had before he called. 

Honey wants to break up with him? Does she consider them ‘together’ like… boyfriend-girlfriend? Not anymore, he guesses. He’ll stay away, even if he hates it. He’d like to be the one comforting her– not Bea or Quinn. He should be the one holding Honey and taking care of her, like that night that she first kissed him and he slept with her while she cried. Bea may think that she’s got things under control, but Honey was calm after Trevor slept in her bed. She was able to explain everything about Thomas without crying. She was soft and sweet and rational when she explained things to Trevor. He expects that she would act the same way if he could just talk to her.

Trevor’s at war with himself. He wants to go to the Nook, but he won’t. He won’t. He’ll listen to Bea because he wants Honey to be okay and Bea says she’s got it under control. Plus, he’d rather not get broken up with. If he sees Honey and she ends things, Trevor knows that she’ll commit herself to never seeing him again.

The idea of seeing Honey in the distance and having her turn away instead of smiling softly, like Trevor has grown used to, has his chest growing cold. He sags in his seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always sees Honey do. Trevor won’t go. He’ll stay away so that he can be by her side for the rest of their lives. As determined as Honey would be to stay away from Trevor if they broke up– Trevor’s more determined to keep her by his side. 

Trevor’s preoccupied as he shops for Quinn. He spends probably hundreds of dollars on liquor and food and decorations for Bea’s party. He’s a little bit more content to splurge for Bea now that she’s trying to save his relationship. A pretty party seems like an apt way to repay her for the trouble.

Trevor’s also still banking on seeing Honey in a pretty dress on Friday. The party needs to be perfect.

46:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes up in Bea’s bed, snuggled up with the girl because she’s hogging all the blankets. Her head is a little foggy after yesterday. She thought she was fine after talking to Quinn in the car, but that was just a mirage. Wearing Trevor’s shirt in public was big, a disaster even, after Bea rolled into The Reading Nook yesterday and said that Honey looked cute in her soft launch. 

It turns out, Quinn had been tagged in something on an Instagram story on Tuesday. When he looked at it, it was a picture of him and Honey in Winston, shopping for Bea. The picture was harmless, but the speculation was not– and Honey didn’t like being back on social media without her permission. It made her think of– well. It made her think of her very short stint on that porn website.

It was really hard for her to breathe after seeing the picture. Quinn reported it and had it taken down after he had seen it, but he had taken a screenshot so that he could show Bea and they could laugh about it. Bea hadn’t expected for Honey to be so effected by the picture, considering you can’t even see her face, which is why she had brought it up. Honey feels a little guilty– Bea had wanted a laugh and instead, she had gotten one of Honey’s Category Four freakouts. 

By the time the store closed, Bea had calmed Honey down to a Category One, but she had asked Honey to stay the night with her just to make sure she was okay. Bea practically babysat Honey all night, which is probably not how she wanted her evening to go. She probably had plans to meet up with one of the boys, but she was relegated to hanging out with Honey instead. It’s another reason why Honey feels guilty.

Poor Bea. She didn’t sign up for such drama when she became friends with Honey in grade school. If she could go back, Honey wonders if she would change it.

Bea stirs when Honey tries to take back some of her covers. “No,” she whines, blinking blearily. “Don’t take my blankets.”

“You can’t have all of them,” Honey insists, able to secure a corner of the topsheet. She bundles herself in the thin linen. 

Bea squeezes her eyes shut and whines again, turning away from Honey and trying to fall back asleep.

“Hey,” Honey says.

“What,” Bea replies, her voice an annoyed grumble. She’s never been a morning person.

“Never mind,” Honey decides, thinking better of asking the question. It’s too early and Bea will think she’s still in a bad headspace. 

Bea tosses her head back and turns over, glaring at Honey before reaching up to rub the sleep out of one eye. “Say it. You can’t just start your sentence and then say ‘never mind.’”

Now it’s Honey’s turn to roll her eyes. “You do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s different when I do it.”

Honey scoffs. “It’s only different because you think you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

“Because I’m special,” Bea brags.

“You think so.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday week, you have to listen to me.”

Honey sighs. “Fine. I was wondering if, if you could go back in time, you’d still choose to be my friend.”

Bea widens her eyes, an alarmed look taking over her features. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Well, ‘cause…” Honey shrugs. “Everything with Thomas? Everything with Trevor?”

Bea scoffs. “If I could go back in time and change anything, I’d stop you from dating Thomas in the first place. But, then we wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t have met Trevor. Who, by the way, you’re still not breaking up with.”

“I know,” Honey drawls, rolling her head back on her shoulders. Bea spent a good portion of yesterday trying to talk Honey down from making a ‘rash decision that she’ll regret.’

“Good, I’m glad we’re still on the same page about that,” Bea says. She brings her hands out from under the covers and stretches, then sits up. The sheets pool around her waist. “He’s our guest reader today.”

“What?” Honey asks. She sits up too. 

“He’s our guest reader for Story Time,” Bea says again. 

Honey’s mouth opens in surprise and a little bit of anger. “When did you organize that?”

“After you fell asleep last night,” Bea reveals with a shrug. 

“Why?” Honey demands.

Bea smiles. “He wanted to see you yesterday.”

Honey gestures for her to continue, not satisfied by that answer. 

“Don’t act like your boyfriend needs an excuse to see you,” Bea says.

Honey frowns. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“He’s not.”

“Okay.”

“Bea.”

“I said okay, Hon. If he’s not your boyfriend, then he’s not your boyfriend.”

“We’re just hooking up.”

“For now,” Bea mumbles.

“Yes, Bea, for now,” Honey says, practically pleading for the girl to understand what she’s explaining. “He leaves at the end of the summer.”

“You don’t have to remind me that they’re leaving,” Bea says, sighing.

“Well, they are, which is why he’s not my boyfriend. He’ll never be my boyfriend. He’s just– stress relief.” Honey has climbed out of the bed by now, gathering clothes from Bea’s dresser so that she can head to the Nook soon.

Bea laughs. “This is your way of not breaking up with him? Reducing him to ‘stress relief’ and pacing around my bedroom?”

“Bea!” Honey exclaims, halting her movements and facing the girl. “He’s not my boyfriend because he doesn’t deserve all of that pressure. You, of all people, know how much work it is to keep up with my constant mood swings and take care of me. It sucks, taking care of me. I ruined your night last night and the joke you wanted to make yesterday, and that’s just within the past twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not hard to take care of,” Bea says.

“You only say that because you’ve gotten used to it after the past five years,” Honey sneers. “Plus, you and I were friends for twelve years before Thomas, too. You’ve got experience. Trevor has no experience.”

Bea raises her eyebrows. “He might not have experience, but he has plenty of patience. Plus–”

“Look,” Honey interrupts. “I am not going to put a label on this. If he’s my boyfriend, then he’s partially responsible for me. It’s part of the package. He’s leaving at the end of the summer anyway and we both know, after last night, that I can’t handle being seen in public with an NHL player. He’s not my boyfriend because I don’t want him to resent me by the end of the summer.”

“Why would he resent you?” Bea asks.

Honey throws her hands up in exasperation. “Because I’m hard work and I can’t give him what he wants! I can’t even tell Jack and Cole and Luke about this relationship. That’s a shitty way to live.”

Bea leans forward, holding eye contact with Honey. “Honey, Trevor is obsessed with you,” she says, speaking clearly as if Honey can’t hear her. “He’s not going to leave you. He’s not going to resent you. He wants you.”

“Yeah, now,” Honey scoffs. “He won’t want me when–”

“All the time,” Bea insists. “He wanted to eat you out because you looked pretty on Monday. You looked like a fucking bum.”

“Hey!” Honey complains. “So did you,” she grumbles.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Bea waves her off. “The point is, Honey, he really likes you. Even Quinn says it and he’s always annoyed with Trevor. He never says anything nice about Z if he can help it.”

“Well, whatever,” Honey replies. “I’m going to the Nook.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in like fifteen,” Bea says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and heading towards her bathroom. “I gotta tame this bedhead.”

It’s a wonder that Bea is late to work almost every day. She lives, like, a five minute walk from The Reading Nook, in a townhouse just off the main street. It’s the best piece of real estate that Litchton has seen in years, in Honey’s humble opinion. Her building was a repurposed government building and the apartments were split up by department. Bea lives on the second floor in the brick building, in the old Parks and Rec department. Now, the Parks and Rec department resides in the only real building in Litchton’s only park. 

Honey joins Ada in the Nook, busying herself with some of the opening tasks that she knows Ada hates. Sweeping under the shelves, mostly. Honey likes that she’s left alone to do her sweeping. She’s able to avoid Bea when she comes into the store and she’s able to sneak off before the start of Story Time.

She restocks the stacks until there are no books left. She’s searching high and low for a book out of place, but Honey can’t find any. The only other thing to do in the store is take up her spot behind the counter and listen to Story Time, waiting for the parents and kids to be done. No one buys anything during Story Time. They’re just there to listen. It’s afterward that they mingle and look around– maybe because school is starting in about two months, people will be doing summer reading, and they’ll need a book.

Honey is praying for something to intervene. She's praying. Honey doesn't pray. She also doesn’t want to see Trevor after everything she’s felt over the past few days. She’s still not sure what she wants to do. Does she want to hook up with him like everything’s normal? Does she want to end it now and save herself the hurt later?

Or, does she want to take the jump and do more, like Trevor is always asking? Dinner, drinks, wearing his shirt in public, shit like holding hands. Is Honey ready for that? Is Trevor the right person to trust with that?

As much as she’d like to avoid making a decision on that front, Honey’s distracted by Trevor’s voice as he reads The Giving Tree. Of course he chose to read The Giving Tree, too– it’s such a cliché book. Honey never liked it as a kid. She always thought that the boy was selfish and the tree gave up too much. She knows that the whole point of the giving tree is that the tree gives everything it can selflessly, but she just hated it. Her mom loved it, so they read it a lot. There’s probably a worn copy of the book in Honey’s home, come to think of it.

She doesn’t like the book, but Trevor’s making these silly voices for the tree and the boy… and Honey just wants to melt into a puddle. She’s able to make it over to the counter without looking at him. She’s able to pick up her book and skim the words on the page, not really reading them. She’s too distracted by Trevor’s voice and his conspiratorial whisper. 

“‘Come, boy,’ She whispered,” Trevor says. “‘Come and play.’” His voice changes to something deeper, more gruff. “‘I am too old and sad to play,’ said the boy. ‘I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?’”

Honey closes her eyes and bites the insides of her cheeks. She shakes her head to herself, pushing her tongue against the back of her top teeth.

“You okay?” Bea asks, touching Honey’s shoulder and making her jump. She could’ve sworn that a minute ago, Bea was loitering at the back of the group of parents, listening to Trevor speak. 

Honey forces a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. She nods at Bea, shooing her away. 

Bea watches her for a second longer, walking backwards to rejoin the group. She offers Honey a shaky thumbs-up on the walk back, waiting for Honey to give her a signal that she’s not fine. Honey refuses. She already caused enough problems for Bea lately. She doesn’t want to be the emotionally unstable friend that needs to be watched every minute of every day.

She catches a glimpse of Trevor behind Bea and through the parents. Like a car crash, she’s unable to look away. He’s wearing golf clothes, like he’s about to go on the greens with the boys after Story Time. His hair is tucked up into a cap and he’s smiling widely at the crowd gathered around his feet. There’s a little, baby girl using Trevor’s leg to pull herself into a standing position. He turns the page and shows her the illustration, mouth wide open in a showman-like gasp before he starts again. 

“‘Well,’” he reads. “‘Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ And the boy did!” He exclaims, smiling at the little girl. She reaches up to try and touch his teeth.

Honey’s heart suddenly feels like it’s being thrown through a meat grinder. She’s taking deep breaths like it can level her head. She’s touched by Trevor’s dedication to the book and to his audience. She catches one of the moms whispering and pulling out her phone, taking a video and zooming in on the girl as she stomps a foot like she’s ready to walk. She doesn’t, but she’s standing. 

“She’s never done that before,” Honey catches as the mother starts to whisper again. 

Her eyes return to Trevor. He’s closing the book, placing it gently in his lap. Trevor’s eyes find Honey and his eyes soften. So do the edges of his lips, turning upward like an instinct. “And the tree was happy,” He says with that same soft smile. 

The parents break into applause, prompting their children to do the same. Trevor continues to look at Honey, but she can feel her frown deepen into something almost comical. She looks away and shakes her head again, biting her lower lip so hard that she wonders if she’ll leave a mark. She covers her face with both hands, then drops them. She shakes out her wrists and takes an unsteady breath.

Fuck. She’s going to cry right here behind the cash register.

In order to prevent the embarrassment and to save herself from further content that will make her emotional, Honey hops off her stool and ducks into the back room. She closes the door behind her, sitting down at the little wooden table where she and Bea normally eat lunch, folding her arms and cradling her forehead against the skin. Her nose is brushing the wooden tabletop, so Honey shifts lower until her arms are resting against the edge of the table. 

She takes a few breaths, swallowing hard as she winces and shakes her head some more. She feels like a fucking bobblehead. She hates that book. She hates that it always applies in every situation. 

She’s the boy. Trevor is the tree. She takes, he gives, and nothing will change for her except age and he’ll be left gutted and stoopy from all of her taking. 

Honey’s getting a migraine. This week has been too emotional and turbulent for her. 

The door opens and shuts. Honey doesn’t have to look up. He’s been following her around for weeks. Why would this be any different?

“I can’t do that to you,” Honey whispers. “And if you stay with me, I’m gonna do that to you. I don’t want you to give up everything because of me.” If her eyes were open, they’d be stinging with tears. She decides to brave it. Honey picks her head up and faces him.

The look on Trevor’s face is one of deep thought. He’s pouting just a tad, just enough that Honey can tell. He looks at her, takes his time examining every detail of her outfit and her body and her face. When he finally speaks, his words follow the same volume Honey used. 

“I’m not giving up anything,” Trevor says. “I’m– I’m getting you.”

Honey grimaces and looks away, sniffing and wiping under her nose.

Trevor walks closer. He crouches, then kneels next to her chair. “Baby,” he breathes, putting a hand on her knee. 

Honey fixes him with a miserable glare, a tear running down her cheek before she can stop it.

Trevor reaches up and wipes it away. “I’ll give everything I have,” he murmurs. He brushes her hair out of her face. “If you’re the company by my side at the end of the story.”

Honey crumples and cries. “I’m sorry,” she says through the tears. 

“Sorry for what, Honey?” Trevor prods, tilting his head at her and looking up through those sad puppy-dog eyes. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

Even though he’s right, Honey is still sorry for everything. She still feels like she’s weighing on him, like her past is weighing on them. She thought she was healing because she didn’t think about Thomas as much anymore at the beginning of the summer. It was just denial– five fat years of denial and repression that’s bubbling up now that she’s got this sweet, caring, and devoted boy at her feet. She wishes she could give him everything. Unfortunately, she’s never been the giving kind.

She’s hoping that can change. 

“I– I do like you,” Honey stammers out, trying to sound as convincing as she can through the tears. “You know I do.”

Trevor nods seriously. “The sex gave it away.”

Honey bursts into a fresh round of tears, spurred on by the sudden laughter that Trevor inspired. She wipes under her eyes. “I’m really trying,” she insists.

“I know you are,” Trevor says. 

“Sometimes I think it doesn’t seem like it, but I am,” Honey says again. “I know you’re not– him. He never tried this hard.”

“He didn’t know what he was missing,” Trevor says. “You are sweet, and smart, and quick, and you challenge me. I’ve never had to try so hard for someone.” He shrugs. “You’re just– worth it.”

“How do you– how do you know that?” Honey asks, feeling silly and embarrassed to ask such a stupid question. 

Trevor shrugs, touching her face down to her neck and shoulders. “I don’t know it. It’s just natural. Like, of course I’m trying this hard for you. It’s you.”

Honey understands the sentiment, even though Trevor is the worst at explaining his feelings. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, reading her mind. “That probably sounded stupid. I’m really bad at talking about stuff like this.”

Honey breathes out a laugh and reaches down to cradle Trevor’s face. “You’re sweet,” she says, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for trying so hard. I wish I didn’t make it so hard for you.”

“I don’t care, baby, don’t worry about all of that.”

“I worry,” Honey says, thumbing over Trevor’s bottom lip to wipe her lipgloss away. She only put it on because Bea handed it to her when she walked into The Reading Nook, wordlessly. They always share lipgloss and chapstick and have for years. It’s second nature and now Bea’s cherry lip gloss is smeared along Trevor’s lips. “I always worry.”

“How about this,” Trevor starts.

Bea knocks on the door, popping her head into the room. “Hey, Hon?” She says softly. “Jessie’s wondering if she and Luca can say goodbye to you before they go.”

Honey sniffs and wipes under her eyes. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll be right out.” Bea nods and leaves the back room. Honey pats the side of Trevor’s face and gestures for him to move so that she can stand.

He does, taking her hand and squeezing it. He uses his other hand to wipe her eyes once more. “I’ll come over later and we can talk, yeah? I’ll bring you a bunch of trashy food and we can do a whole lot of nothing until you feel better.”

Honey nods. “Okay. Do you want to sleep over?” 

She wants Trevor to sleep over, but she won’t tell him to stay outright. Honey wants it to be his choice. She knows that his answer is yes, always yes to sleeping over, but she doesn’t want to assume.

He tries to stop his face from lighting up, but Honey notices anyway. She’s unable to hold back a smile and an eye roll. 

“I’ll see you after you get off work, yeah?” Trevor says, touching her fingers like a promise. 

Honey can only nod. She leaves the room first, bidding Jessie and little Luca a goodbye. She bounces the toddler on her hip after he reaches for her, still attached to her from the year and a half of babysitting she did for Jessie and Tyler when Luca was first born. When she finishes saying goodbye to the boy and once she heads back to the back room to see how puffy her eyes are, Trevor is gone. 

He stays true to his word and shows up at her house after work. He’s changed into his comfy clothes after golfing, but he loses his shirt once he sees that Honey is already in her pajamas. He lost to Quinn and Jack in the final few holes, but beat Cole and Luke. He tells Honey that he’s happy being the middle of the pack, which she makes fun of him for saying. 

They watch a movie on Honey’s couch, some new terrible rom-com that Trevor swears was good when Cole watched it. Once Honey decides that the movie stinks, Trevor makes it his mission to kiss every inch of her exposed skin until she’s squirming and pushing him away. He just laughs and keeps going while she squeals, placing his hand against the side of her neck to caress her skin.

Honey relaxes over the course of the film, comforted by the weight of Trevor’s hand on her neck and the way he’s laying half-on-top of her. His lips continue to kiss her skin and brush against her, keeping Honey on her toes and making her body feel charged with electricity. It’s lazy and sweet and it’s actually very comforting– Honey doesn’t think about Thomas or her fear and anxiety about her relationship with Trevor once. She just watches the poorly-made film and plays with Trevor’s hair.

They talk in murmured and hushed whispers as the night passes, even after the movie ends and the food Trevor brought over goes cold. They don’t even fuck, despite the fact that Honey can feel Trevor’s dick pressing into her hip the whole night long. He puts his hand up her shirt to cup her boob, another comforting weight.

They sleep on Honey’s couch. It’s thinner than a twin bed and probably a lot less comfortable in the long run, but Honey and Trevor fall asleep right there, too comfortable and content to move. Trevor falls asleep first, his breath fanning out and raising goosebumps on her skin. Honey continues to pet through his hair until she, too, closes her eyes and succumbs to calm dreams. It’s the most secure she’s felt in days and that’s all thanks to Trevor.

Honey wishes that she could express it outright, that Trevor is the right person to trust with all of this. It’s just a matter of getting all of it out. 

47:90 – TREVOR

They’ve been decorating all day. Trevor is about at his wit’s end with Quinn and no matter how much he’s begged Honey over text, she won’t send him a picture of her dress. She won’t tell him how she’s doing her hair, or even what lip color she’s wearing. He’s asked over and over, since they’re back to normal after Honey’s freakout the other day, and since they’re back to normal… she’s teasing him. The only detail she’s offered is what he already knew: her dress is black. It has offered him absolutely no relief.

But, finally, it’s time for Trevor to get dressed. The closest thing he has to a black suit, which is what Quinn wanted him to wear, is his navy suit with the thin white checkered lines on it. 

He actually should get another one ahead of Shoulder Check– maybe he can swing by his home in New York before the media starts for the game. It’s in about two weeks and Trevor has barely thought about his participation– really, he was having so much fun in Litchton and with Honey that he forgot about his other responsibilities. He loves the Shoulder Check Showcase and everything it stands for. Maybe he can bring Honey with him.

Meh. He thinks. That’s a question for another time.

He suits up in his fancy outfit, having steamed his shirt ahead of time to get rid of the wrinkles. Trevor runs a comb through his hair, touching the flow to make sure it’s in place. He folds his collar over and considers adding a tie, but decides against it. He’ll probably lose the suit jacket by the end of the night anyway, so what’s the tie worth? 

Quinn seems to think otherwise. He’s wearing that same dark suit he always wears, with the same shirt he always wears, and the same tie he always wears. Trevor would rag on him, but Jack and Luke are already teasing him. Luke can barely speak though– he’s not even showered. 

He’s wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing all day and he got out of decorating because he stayed away from the house and played hockey all day. He got up at the ass-crack of dawn and snuck out of the house, driving himself and his gear to Charlotte. He just got back about twenty minutes ago. Trevor wishes he had thought of disappearing first– Quinn promised that if Trevor bought the supplies, he wouldn’t have to decorate, and yet he was the one tasked with blowing up balloons to scatter throughout the basement.

Everyone else is ready, though. Jack is playing some game on the basement TV while Cole hangs up even more streamers along the pool table, just for fun. Quinn is delicately filling and balancing plastic champagne flutes atop each other, creating an impressive tower that Trevor’s sure will fall apart before the end of the night. That’s why he bought plastic flutes instead of deciding to use the ones in the cabinet upstairs.

Luke lumbers downstairs in his NHL Awards suit, tie and all. He joins Jack on the couch and leans back, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. 

Trevor busies himself at the makeshift bar they’ve set up. It’s more of a big cooler that they usually use on the boat, filled with ice and beers and the seltzers that Bea likes so much. He doesn’t know why he bought so much liquor if no one is going to drink it. There’s a full bottle of everyone’s favorite kinds of liquor, and not the cheap ones– Bea and Cole like tequila. Honey prefers vodka, but she’s not averse to a gin and tonic when the moment calls for it. Trevor likes keeping both on hand for her. Luke and Jack are vodka folks too, although they’re slowly warming up to scotch and whiskey. Jim likes whiskey, as does Quinn, and Quinn started getting into bourbon before he started focusing on his diet for hockey again. This might be one of his last nights to go crazy before he cuts drinking out completely again. 

He was so annoying last summer when he did it– although Trevor did like the fact that Quinn was always their DD. This summer has been better. He indulges and parties with them, but he’s not a stickler about their own habits. It’s another way that Litchton has mellowed Quinn.

“Yoohoo!” Trevor hears from the foyer upstairs. “Anybody home?”

He grins to himself. With Bea comes Honey– and the clicking of high-heeled feet on the floor above him is proof. Trevor’s face feels split from how he’s trying to hold back his smile and stay calm, busying himself with the drinks. He digs for a Modelo that is completely submerged in the ice. 

“We’re down here,” Quinn calls, balancing that final champagne flute on the tippy-top of his pyramid. 

“Good job, Q. Looks good. Makes me want to take a flute from the bottom,” Jack says. “Send it all crashing down.”

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Quinn replies with a quirk of his eyebrow. Then, his eyes fall toward the steps, towards the clatter of feet. Bea is bounding down the stairs with graceful ease, whereas Honey is stepping carefully and holding onto the railing.

Bea comes first, but once Trevor gets eyes on his girl, he can’t look away. The dress is black, alright. So are the high heels. After that detail, Trevor’s mind goes blank. It’s tight on her waist and hips, and long. It’s scrunchy towards the middle of her chest, accentuating her lovely tits. Trevor likes the straps of the dress too– a see-through ribbon material that she’s tied into this elegant bows. It’s how Trevor’s going to undo the dress later tonight, if he ends up undoing it at all. He might just crawl up under the fabric and get his mouth on her with it still on her body.

Honey’s lips are painted in a dark red. Her lips perk up when she catches Trevor staring, but she’s quick to turn away and greet Cole, who’s taking her hand and lifting it up for her to spin underneath. Her hair is up and curled and beautiful and a breath of laughter escapes Trevor. He quickly stifles it and goes back to his beer, twisting the cap off. He picks a seltzer from the cooler, Honey’s favorite kind. 

Trevor sets it on the edge of the bar, next to the fruit board that he organized just for Honey. She’ll know it’s meant for her and that it’s from him.

After he wanders over to the sofa, after he’s had a few sips of his beer, and after he’s eaten some chips and dip, Trevor sees Honey pick up the seltzer and read the label. She smiles to herself and picks up a raspberry, popping it into her mouth. She glances at Trevor and tips the can at him like a toast. Then, she turns away.

They don’t interact for most of the night. Honey keeps a safe distance away– it’s part of what they talked about last night. She told him that she’s worried that they’re being too obvious. Trevor’s solution was that he’d leave her alone. He’d stop giving her those “forlorn puppy eyes”, as she calls them, and he’d stop following her around until she gives him The Signal.

It took them about an hour to decide on what the signal would be. Trevor’s bad at code words and Honey refused to be so obvious and agree to some hand signal. They eventually decided that she’d play with her hair for an extended period of time, and if that didn’t work, she’d send him a text. They decided that she’d send him the seeing-eye-dog emoji, since Trevor made the joke that he’d be blind if he didn’t notice that Honey wanted to hook up with him. She had replied that it’ll probably be her most-used emoji by the end of the summer.

They drink, they’re merry, and Honey catches Trevor watching her more times than he’d like to admit. She shakes her head at him like she’s disappointed in him, but Trevor’s not too hurt. After all, he’s caught her staring, too.

The party goes into the night and Cole is the drunkest of them all. He’s commandeered a bag of pretzel rods from upstairs, which Trevor had tucked away in case they needed more food. He’s not sure how Cole found them. He thought he put them in a high-enough cabinet. It’s probably a good thing that Cole found something to soak up all the drinks, though, because if he hadn’t, his words would be even more absurd than what he’s saying now.

It started as an evaluation of all of their outfits, with proper ratings after he forced them to strut across the room. Now, they’re all tired and talking deliriously, and Cole is talking about how pretty each of the girls are. Trevor’s not even mad– it’s just funny.

“Honey, you’re like small-town-girl pretty. When I saw you, I thought: what the fuck is she doing here?” Cole says.

Honey scoffs out a laugh, raising her drink to her lips. “Gee, thanks, Coley.” Her lipstick is smudging the rim of the can.

Cole continues. “No, like… you’re the kind of pretty where I could imagine someone meeting you in college and when you tell them that you’re from Litchton, they’d be all ‘Oh, no way, I thought you were from Raleigh’ or something.”

“Well, I’m from Charlotte,” Honey corrects under her breath. Trevor chuckles into his beer.

Cole talks on like he didn’t hear her. Maybe he didn’t. “You’re state capital level pretty, but some of the charm is that you’re from a small town.”

“Sick,” Honey says sarcastically. “I really appreciate that clarification.”

“And Bea’s like an actress that always wears an evening gown and holds a champagne flute in every role she plays,” Cole says. Trevor wonders if it’s because she’s conveniently holding a champagne flute between her fingers now. “Just because it’s so perfect. You’re, like, regal-hot, Buzz.”

Trevor rolls his eyes. That’s Honey’s nickname for Bea. Cole using it is like when Honey called Trevor ‘Z.’ Bea doesn’t seem to mind.

“You could model if you weren’t living in Litchton, Bea,” Cole says. He’s started hiccuping and now he’s pointing his pretzel at Quinn. Quinn and Bea are sitting on the floor, with Bea between his legs. Her back is against his front and his arms are hugging her. Cole pipes up again. “Dude, she should talk to Liv. Didn’t she say that whoever-the-fuck was always looking for people? Bea could be their champagne girl.”

Oh. Trevor cringes. Cole has completely lost track of anything that is socially acceptable. He’s entering uncharted territory, a very dangerous topic: past relationships that didn’t end necessarily well. 

Cole doesn’t notice anything, even when Quinn glares at him. “Yeah, she did say that,” Quinn replies.

“Bea, I’m serious. You really should talk to Liv.”

“Who’s Liv?” Honey interrupts, looking around the room. 

Trevor’s honestly surprised that Bea hasn’t told Honey about Olivia yet– he knows that Quinn has told Bea about his recent ex-relationship. 

An awkward silence falls over the room with each of the boys looking at each other. Who’s going to be brave enough to speak? Quinn doesn’t want to. Cole is oblivious. 

“Quinn’s ex,” Luke eventually murmurs. “She’s, uh, a model in New York.”

“Oh,” Honey says, turning to look at Bea. 

Trevor watches Quinn nudge his forehead against the back of Bea’s head, then his arms drop. He leans back, planting his palms on the ground behind him. Bea shuffles to the side a bit– and they’re no longer touching at all. 

“Coley, let’s play pool,” Honey suddenly says. “I bet I could whoop you right now. You probably can’t even do a break.”

“I can do a break!” Cole defends himself, sounding much more upset than he normally would be at the weak jibe. He clambers to his feet and deposits his bag of pretzel rods in Jack’s lap, setting his drink on the coffee table without a coaster. 

Honey joins him at the pool table and Trevor smiles at the sight of the duo in their fancy clothes, playing on their dingy table in their rustic room. 

Bea murmurs something to Quinn quietly, then she stands. She smooths out her white dress, adjusting the line of feathers that act as her neckline. It’s a strapless dress with a low back, and with how Quinn’s hand had been resting on the small of her back all night, he wasn’t expecting this evening to take this turn.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Bea announces unnecessarily, sounding awkward. “J, will you…?”

Trevor furrows his brow and looks at Quinn. The boy’s head is hanging and his fingers are picking at the fabric of the carpet. When Trevor looks at Jack, the boy’s lips are parted in surprise and his eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, downing his beer and grabbing his jacket when he stands. He and Bea head upstairs, disappearing from sight. 

The group kind of disintegrates after that. Cole and Honey play pool and Luke and Trevor watch them. Quinn returns to the television, throwing ESPN on and sipping his beer. He doesn’t talk, but he joins them once Honey schools Cole in pool. He takes the cue from Honey and Luke takes Cole’s, and Cole goes up to bed.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” Honey says quietly to Trevor, touching his lapel. “See you later?”

“Want me to come over?” Trevor asks.

“No. Gotta keep my schedule open for Bea. She might want to talk about this Liv thing. You can walk me to the door, though,” Honey decides. She looks over his shoulders to the other boys. “Bye, Lu. Bye, Quinn. Good luck with the Liv thing.”

“Thanks, Hon,” Quinn replies. He sends a ball into the corner pocket with a crack.

“See you, Honey,” Luke echoes.

She and Trevor walk upstairs and stop at the door. “Love this dress,” Trevor says. “Was hoping I’d take it off of you later.”

“Mm, I’ll wear it again before the summer is over,” Honey hums, unbuttoning one of the buttons on Trevor’s white dress shirt. She pulls the collar open more, so that his chest is starting to show. “Didn’t know you cleaned up so nice.”

“Well, I’ve heard good things about suits,” Trevor says noncommittally. 

Honey hums again. She leans up on her tiptoes to give Trevor a kiss. “Would rather see you without it. I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow?”

“Sounds fun,” Trevor replies. “I’ll tell the guys.”

Honey shakes her head. “I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow.”

“Might be hard to chase Cole away.”

“Okay, then a late-night rendezvous. We’ll tire ‘em out over dinner, all of them, and then we can use the hot tub while Bea celebrates her birthday with her man of choice.”

“For Quinn’s sake, let’s hope it’s him.”

“Mhm.” Another kiss. “Bye, darlin’.”

“Bye.”

Honey shuts the door behind her and Trevor holds his chin in the space between his index finger and thumb. His lips are tingling and his stomach is flying with butterflies. He loves when Honey calls him pet names. After a few days of trepidation, they’re back on track. Everything is exactly how it should be.

48:90 – HONEY

“How are you feeling?” Honey asks, digging through Bea’s purse for her lip gloss. 

They’re driving to the boys’ house now, since the guys just got back from practicing in Charlotte. Trevor says that they’re all pretty tired, so they’ll hopefully be alone in the hot tub later tonight. Trevor’s last text read that they’re all doing showers in a rotation and dinner is on the stove, ready to eat. Promptly, he stopped replying. Honey thinks he went to take a nap before they showed up, since he’ll be up late.

“About what?” Bea asks, avoiding eye contact.

Honey clicks her tongue and pauses her search for a moment. “‘About what,’” she repeats, mocking the girl. “About Quinn? About what was brought up yesterday? You went upstairs with Jack.”

“I feel fine,” Bea says.

Honey purses her lips. “No shot.”

“We talked about it last night,” Bea says. “After everything with Jack. Jack gave me info on Liv, I… rewarded him… in the least coercive way possible, I guess. Then I went to Quinn’s room. We talked it out and everything is fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Honey observes. “You still seem upset. What was it? Just the fact that they brought her up at all?”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Bea sighs. She pauses, grinding her teeth together. “It was the model thing.”

“You know Cole was drunk and–”

“No, not that. I think it’s sweet that Cole thinks I could model. It’s the fact that Quinn dated this girl, was completely in love with her, and she was a model. You know I’m not insecure, but, like, she’s a model.” Bea itches her temple, then gestures aimlessly in the air. “And now he’s with me?”

“Buzzy. You’re hot,” Honey says. 

“I know,” Bea drawls, rolling her eyes as she drags the word out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You just still seem upset,” Honey says with a shrug. 

“I’m not upset. Our talk was actually really helpful. Everything is back to normal.”

Bea is insistent and her tone is final. Honey decides to let the matter go, although she can tell that Bea is still affected by everything. Even though she talked it out with Quinn, Bea must have something nagging at her. Honey can tell by the way she’s gnawing at her bottom lip. 

Honey’s suspicion doesn’t improve once they get to the house. Bea descends on the liquor cabinet, breaking out the tequila and declaring that it’s her birthday tomorrow, so everyone has to drink with her. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Cole and Jack. Luke is quick to agree as well, then Quinn agrees once Bea bats her eyelashes at him, swearing with a pinky promise that he’ll keep up with her. While Quinn puts the finishing touches on dinner, an on-theme skillet of fajitas, Bea measures out the ingredients for margaritas and seems to forget about Honey’s allergy, because she throws a handful of strawberries into the blender for flavoring.

It all works out, remarkably– Honey’s not offended by Bea’s oversight. The girl apologizes profusely, threatening to throw the blended goods away and wash the blender and start over completely, but Honey manages to convince her not to. She just takes one of Trevor’s beers from the fridge and twists the top off, saying she’ll drink that. Trevor waves his own beer, already half-empty, and declares he’s also got his own.

Honey laughs to herself quietly, very fond of Trevor’s commitment to avoiding strawberries. He actually asked her the other day, when they were high and Trevor suddenly remembered that the fruit stand was open on Mondays and they ‘missed it!’, if he could eat strawberries and then kiss her. Just for fun, Honey had told him that if he did, her throat would close up and she’d swell up like that scene in Meet The Robinsons, and Trevor was so perfectly high that he believed her every word. He swore off strawberries and, apparently, he meant permanently.

They eat dinner and watch a few episodes of Bea and Cole’s favorite reality show. Honey and Jack share the loveseat and after the clock strikes 9, Jack is out. He falls asleep right on Honey’s shoulder, mouth open and head tipped back. 

Honey actually defends the boy from his younger brother and Cole, who wanted to see how many straws they could fit into Jack’s mouth before waking him up. She hugs her arm around his shoulders and Jack turns into her neck and snores softly. 

It’s a true testament to how much Honey has grown since meeting the guys– Jack used to get on her nerves, and still sometimes does, but she noticed that he’d been yawning all day. Once they had turned the TV on, his blinks had grown more and more slow, so Honey figured he needed a good sleep. 

Plus, it’s one less guy that she’ll have to kick out of the hot tub later.

Trevor volunteers to carry Jack upstairs to his bed, which Honey thinks is sweet. She also suspects that he doesn’t like the way Jack was cuddling up to her, nor the way she was petting through his hair maternally. 

“Hot tub?” Honey asks once the most recent episode of Cole’s reality show is over. 

The shorter boy perks up from his lazy position on the couch. “Hot tub?” He asks. “Yeah!” He bounds up and is out the sliding glass door before anyone else can agree. Honey can see, and hear, him taking the cover off of the tub and starting the jets. 

Bea looks at Quinn. “Do you want to?” She asks. She’s sitting on his lap again in their recliner chair. 

Quinn pats her thigh. “If you do.” He kisses her jaw. “We can have a couple more drinks then go upstairs, hm?”

“Sounds good.” Bea nods, then turns to Honey. “Will you do some shots with us?”

“I will!” Cole calls from outside. 

Bea looks over at him, then back to Honey. She prompts the girl again with a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll do a shot,” Honey agrees. “If Luke does.”

Luke’s already drunk off of his third margarita, so it doesn’t take much to convince him to do another shot. By the time they make it outside, Cole has stripped down to his underwear and he’s in the tub. Luke and Quinn go upstairs to change into swimsuits, whereas Honey and Bea wore their own underneath their clothes, and Trevor comes back in his own swimsuit. He says that Jack woke up shortly after they made it up the stairs and demanded that Trevor “unhand him,” so he’ll be down in his own trunks soon enough.

“Feels nice,” Bea sighs, lowering herself into the bubbling waters. She sags once she’s on the ledge, sitting as far in the water as she can without putting her head underneath.

Honey does the same, checking her watch to start her fifteen-minute count. Bea has tried to tell her over and over again that it doesn’t matter if she stays in the water for longer than fifteen minutes, but Honey once read a lifeguarding handbook and the recommendation to split up your time in a hot tub always stuck with her. 

“I love this hot tub,” Cole announces, a dopey smile overtaking his face. “We should use it more. I can’t believe we’ve only used it twice.”

“We’ll use it more,” Bea says, an empty promise that could be easily filled, but probably won’t come to fruition. 

As Quinn returns, Bea asks him to grab some plastic shot glasses and her almost-empty bottle of tequila. She pours shots for everyone, emptying the bottle on the fourth. Quinn switches over to the open bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a shot and two additional ones. Honey offers to take one of those, as does Luke.

They all cheer together.

“To Quinn’s last night with liquor,” Bea cheers, lifting her glass higher than the rest of them.

Quinn smiles with his teeth, eyes a little bleary. “To Bea’s birthday,” he says, trumping her toast. Everyone echos what he says before throwing back their drinks. 

Bea smacks her lips contentedly, smiling wide and pointing to the sky like a rock star. “To Bea’s birthday,” she simpers, floating over to pull herself onto Quinn’s lap. She settles there, kissing him until his brothers start booing. “Don’t be losers,” Bea chastises.

“We wouldn’t hate so much if you were kissing each of us like that,” Jack teases, puckering his lips at the end of the statement. 

Bea fixes him with a look. “Maybe he’s the best kisser.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says with a shit-eating smile. “You can admit that he’s your favorite. He’s already Mom and Dad’s favorite.”

“Well, much like your mom and dad, I have to insist that I don’t have a favorite,” Bea says, sticking her nose into the air. Quinn squeezes her sides and she shrieks, laughing.

They shoot the shit for nearly an hour before anyone decides to leave the tub– except for Honey. She leaves the tub every fifteen minutes, like always, and she’s usually tasked with grabbing snacks or a drink refill for her friends. 

Luke is so drunk that he’s starting to fall asleep, so he’s the first to leave the tub, at Quinn’s request. He makes it all the way to the sliding glass door before Quinn tells him to sleep on the couch in the living room. Luke is too tired to argue, which Honey thinks is both sweet and sad that he doesn’t go to his own bed.

Luckily, though, Quinn and Bea aren’t far behind. They must have a secret language and code like Honey and Trevor do, because all Quinn does is pat Bea’s hip and she’s moving out of the tub and saying that they’ll see everyone tomorrow. 

Their departure leaves Honey, Trevor, Cole and Jack in the tub. Cole is content with his back against one of the jets, practically massaging the area. He won’t stop raving about it. Jack is still yawning and rubbing his eyes, but he’s joking around with Honey and Trevor as they talk. It isn’t long until Honey starts to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers, eying Trevor pointedly.

Which works– he notices quickly and starts to talk about how tired he is and how he can’t wait to go to bed.

Unfortunately, his friends don’t catch the hint.

“So go to bed,” Jack says dryly, making a face at Trevor. “I don’t want to hear about how tired you are. You’ve got a perfectly comfortable king size bed up there, Z. Use it.”

“Yeah, Z,” Cole agrees, eyes closed. “Also, maybe if you weren’t sneaking out at night to go sleep at all of your Raya girls’ houses, then you’d be less tired.”

Trevor shares a look with Honey. She plays it off with an interested quirk of her eyebrows, blinking at him. “Is that so?” She asks, sing-songy. 

“Yeah, he’s been leaving the house at weird hours and he doesn’t come back until the next day,” Cole says, opening his eyes a bit at the chance to gossip. “And I checked Raya. I don’t know who these girls are. He might be going all the way down the mountain to see them.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Trevor replies, smiling smugly at the ‘clever’ quip.

“Yeah, you’re magic alright.” Jack nods sarcastically. He raises his voice. “‘Oh, Trevor. Trevor, Trevor. Please,’” he mocks. 

“Oh my God,” Cole laughs, sitting up. “Dude, she was so loud on Monday. I thought I couldn’t sleep because we were high, but then all of that noise.”

Honey’s eyes widen. That ‘noise’ must have been from her. She was the girl in the house on Monday. 

The boys continue cajoling, splashing each other and getting into a little spat over the mocking of her moans. Trevor doesn’t think it’s funny, but Jack and Cole find his lack of humor about the situation even funnier, so it just gets worse. Honey checks her watch and sees that it’s time for her to take a break, so she starts to climb out of the tub. 

She turns to face the sliding glass door, gathering up some trash from around the tub, and spots movement inside.

Bea is walking down the stairs, the only clothes on her body being the bottom of her bikini. Her boobs are free and she’s glowering as she walks across the basement, stomping towards her white board in the corner.

“Oh my God,” Honey exclaims, caught off guard by the sight.

“What?” Trevor asks, looking her way. Honey catches the moment he spots Bea because his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he looks away. “Oh my God!”

It’s like a chain reaction. Both Cole and Jack utter their own “What?” before turning to look at Bea. She’s scribbled something onto the whiteboard and is making her way to the hot tub, throwing the sliding door open and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You,” she says, pointing at Jack. “Upstairs, now.” She looks over at Cole, squinting. He smiles and waves, just wiggling his fingers with a little wink. Bea sucks her top teeth, then snaps her fingers at Cole. “Yeah. You too. Upstairs, please.”

Cole turns to Jack, both boys already making their way out of the hot tub. They drip on the concrete. Jack wraps his towel around his waist and Cole uses his to dry his hair. 

“Ha,” Cole says to Jack. “I got a please. All you got was a ‘now.’ Bitch-boy.”

“Yeah, well, she asked for me first,” Jack replies, bickering in full swing. 

“You okay?” Honey asks Bea. The glare she gets is answer enough. Honey does not press any further.

Both boys disappear upstairs, scampering along the steps like they’re racing each other to get into Bea’s bed. Honey doesn’t know if they know where they’re actually going, but she does know that they’re in for a long night. Bea’s scowl means that she needs some intense TLC.

“Is she gone?” Trevor asks, eyes still averted from where Bea once stood.

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Honey says. 

“What do you think that was about?” Trevor turns to Honey, reaching out and touching her arm. He grabs at her playfully, pursing his lips and making kissing noises.

Honey rolls her eyes, but she gets back in the hot tub and straddles Trevor’s lap, touching his hair with her wet hands until he shakes her off like a dog. “Dunno,” Honey says. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. She seemed upset.”

“She walked down here naked,” Trevor says. “That’s crazy.”

“Well, she’s hooking up with three of the guys in this house,” Honey surmises. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

“It’s something I never planned on seeing,” Trevor says.

“Well, I appreciate that,” Honey jokes. “You’re a one girl kind of guy, huh, Trev?”

He places his hands on her behind and pulls her closer, rocking her hips against his growing bulge. “Yeah, I really like my Raya girl. I can’t believe she was so loud that the boys heard her the other night.”

“Wasn’t she high, though?” Honey teases, touching Trevor’s bottom lip. “That might be why she was so loud.”

“You don’t think I can do it again?” Trevor asks, brushing his fingers beneath the thin ties of her bathing suit. 

Honey shivers a bit on his lap at the touch, but she stays planted. “No, probably not. I hear you’re not that good in bed.”

“What?” Trevor lifts his hips and grinds against her. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me,” Honey replies. “I’m the one who didn’t come twice because of you.”

Trevor gasps. “When?” He questions, affronted. “I would never do that to you.”

“Well, you did,” Honey insists. She tugs Trevor’s hair until he snaps the band of her swimsuit against her back. 

“Mm, I’m sorry, baby,” Trevor muses, nuzzling under Honey’s neck and kissing the skin. “Won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not,” Honey agrees. “Especially not tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blue balled.”

Trevor chuckles out a laugh but doesn’t afford Honey a reply. Instead, he sucks a wet kiss under Honey’s jaw, touching the base of her neck. He repeats the motion until Honey is sagging against him, twisting her hips as she grows more and more wet in the tub. His hard-on is equally as insistent. 

“Oh, gross!” The sliding door had opened without either of them noticing. Quinn stands there, wincing and glaring at the duo. “God, it’s like you want to get caught.”

Honey turns to him, still sat on Trevor’s lap. Even if she wanted to get off of him, Trevor’s hands keep her securely atop him. 

“What are you doing down here?” Trevor asks, voice monotone and frustrated at the interruption. 

Quinn cuts his eyes at the boy. “I’m not upstairs with Bea, so I thought I’d come down here. I didn’t realize she’d have taken everyone else from the hot tub in my absence.”

Trevor shrugs. “Guess you just weren’t enough for the birthday girl.”

Honey touches Trevor’s chest. “Don’t be mean,” she says. She turns to Quinn. “What happened up there?”

Quinn turns red, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. “I’m sure Bea will tell you later.”

Trevor hums. “Why don’t you want to tell us? You’re here, after all.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “As if I’ll tell you anything, Z. Whatever. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone. Wouldn’t have come down here if I knew you were fucking in the hot tub.”

“You can stay if you want to,” Honey offers. Trevor and Quinn make the same face at her– clearly wondering why she’s extending an invitation to the other boy. Honey defends herself. “Not like that,” she says. “I’m not going to fuck you if Quinn is in the hot tub with us, Trevor.”

“Thanks for that,” Quinn says. “Good to know that someone here has respect for me.”

Trevor goes to open his mouth and rebut, but Honey presses her fingers to his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll just head back upstairs,” Quinn decides. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow for Bea’s birthday lunch.”

“Bea’s having a birthday lunch?” Trevor asks. “Will the celebrations ever end?”

“Well, it’s her actual birthday tomorrow,” Honey says. “So yes, the celebrations will end tomorrow. Goodnight, Quinn.”

“Goodnight, Honey. Use protection, Trevor.” Quinn leaves.

Trevor’s lips are on Honey once again, as soon as Quinn turns away. “Should we tell him that we don’t use that sort of thing?” Trevor asks, joking.

“I think he’d have a heart attack and ask me if I’m trying to ruin my life,” Honey says, sharing a smile with the boy beneath her. “Since I’m obviously the one being baby-trapped by you if anything happens, not the other way around.”

“Hey, anything to get you to stay in my life forever,” Trevor says. It makes Honey pause, because even though he moved on to feel the peaks of her nipples through her top, Trevor didn’t sound like he was joking as much as before. 

Honey decides to ignore it and escalate the situation further– she reaches behind herself and undoes the bow keeping her swimsuit together. The bikini top falls loose under Trevor’s fingers, where he’s pinching her nipples over the fabric, but he makes quick work of the swimsuit. He removes it entirely, dropping the top over the edge of the tub. It falls with a thwap against the pavement surrounding them.

“Now I’m just like Bea,” Honey jokes as Trevor weighs her breasts in his hands, grinning at the flesh that he’s kneading. 

Trevor snorts out a laugh. “Mhm, you’re two peas in a pod.”

“Be honest with me, now,” Honey says. She’s goading Trevor into an argument, seeing if she can catch him. “Whose tits are prettier, mine or Bea’s?”

“Yours,” Trevor replies instantly, thumbing over the piercing adorning one of her nipples.

Honey faux-gasps, having lured him right into her trap. “You looked at Bea’s boobs?”

Trevor scoffs against Honey’s skin. “Kind of hard to avoid when they’re just out like that.”

“I can’t believe you looked,” Honey admonishes. “How could you?”

Trevor rolls his eyes and circles his fingers around Honey’s throat. “That’s enough out of you,” he scolds softly. “You know I don’t care about any tits except yours.”

Honey’s hand slides up to cover his, over her throat. “I like this.”

“I thought you would,” Trevor says. “When we kissed on the balcony that night, I touched your neck and you made the prettiest little noise.”

“Well, apparently all my noises are pretty,” Honey replies with a pout. “And mockable.”

Trevor kisses the pout off of her face. “That’s just the boys being stupid, baby. They’re jealous that they’re not fucking a pretty girl every night.”

“Every night?” Honey asks, laughing incredulously. “We have not been fucking every night.”

“A guy can dream,” Trevor quips back. He grins at Honey and she kisses him instead of replying. It takes only a sweep of her tongue for Trevor to open his mouth, letting Honey take control of the kiss as he touches over her breasts and hips. It isn’t long before his fingers shift the crotch of her bikini bottoms to the side, petting through her wet folds.

“You know, it’s actually really gross to hook up in a hot tub,” Honey murmurs. 

“Yeah, it’s like a petri dish of disease,” Trevor agrees.

Neither of them make a move to get out of the tub. They just stay– Honey is grinding down on Trevor’s calloused fingers and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. Trevor is touching her neck, her piercings, and the tramp stamp on the small of her back, all while fingering her with the others.

Honey tries to keep quiet– now having heard that Jack and Cole overheard her moans on Monday, she’s determined to be subtle. After all, they’re making waves in this hot tub with all of their grinding and all of Trevor’s thrusting. Moans and screams would be too far, even with Jack and Cole occupied upstairs. Quinn could hear, although Honey knows he doesn’t want to, and hopefully Luke has been passed out since he left the tub in the first place.

Trevor fingers Honey until she’s squirming. “Ready to sit on my cock?” He probes, tweaking her nipple with his other hand. 

“Yes,” Honey agrees easily, greedy for an orgasm. Her body feels overheated, probably from the hot tub and the heat of the moment, but there’s nothing that will stop her from getting off now that they’ve started the process. 

“That’s my girl,” Trevor breathes out. He takes his fingers from inside of her and uses that hand to pull his shorts down, just enough to expose himself. 

Honey is far too eager, knocking his hand from the base of his cock and aligning herself with his member. She sinks down much more quickly than she expects Trevor would have, his goal always being to tease her as much as he can before she either snaps at him or, in the rarest of moments, actually begs for him to move. It’s only happened once. Honey is determined to only ever beg him again when it’s on her terms– not because he asked.

Trevor’s hands find her hips and he bites his bottom lip as she starts to move her hips, rolling them in sensual circles as she gets used to his length. Honey never noticed his chipped tooth before. She touches it before freeing his lip from the confines of his bite. Trevor kisses the pad of her thumb.

“Ride me good, baby,” Trevor encourages. “Wanna see your eyes roll back.” He snaps his hips up, thrusting into Honey in one sharp move that completely throws her off her rhythm.

“Trev,” she says with a frown, touching his chest. “You’re throwing off my concentration. Shut up.”

Trevor growls playfully. “So mean,” he says, snapping his hips up again.

“Do you want me to do it, or do you?” Honey asks. “Since you’re unable to stop yourself from fucking me, evidently.”

“Guess you just feel too good,” Trevor replies, kissing over her neck again. “Can’t help myself. This pussy was made for me.”

Honey’s heart flutters a little bit at his mumbled, possessive statement. She brings his hand back to her neck, moving her hips forward and backward in a fast rocking motion. “Made for you,” she says. “Is that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor says, licking his bottom lip. “It’s all mine.”

Honey stops moving. She sits heavily on his lap, dick buried inside of her. It’s throbbing and pulsing, filling her well, but Honey stays still. She touches Trevor’s collarbones, leaning down to kiss over them and up his neck. When she reaches his ear, she whispers, “Show me.”

When she pulls back, Trevor’s eyes are wide. His hand twitches around her neck, drifting lower to squeeze her left tit. “What?” He asks.

“Show me how good you are at fucking this pussy,” Honey says. “Since it’s ‘yours.’”

Trevor’s eyes grow darker. 

“Honestly, Trevor,” Honey continues. “My cunt was made for you? Prove it.”

The challenge finally gets through his head, with Trevor jumping into action. It’s the exact response Honey wanted from him: wild, quick, desperate rutting from Trevor’s hips and his hands clutching her body so hard that they’ll definitely leave marks. If not marks, they’ll leave the ghost of a memory for Honey to think about over the next few days. 

The tip of his cock bumps her walls with each thrust. Trevor’s even at the point where both of his hands are holding her ass cheeks, bouncing Honey on his cock in time with the thrusts. It makes the sex that much more electrifying, especially once Trevor angles himself in a way that has him brushing against Honey’s g-spot.

Honey closes her eyes and focuses on feeling, throwing her head back in pleasure. Trevor bites over her neck, then seals his mouth over her chest, and Honey holds his bicep tightly to keep herself grounded. The steam from the hot tub is like a sauna, stifling her a bit and making her sweat more than she would in a normal sexual environment.

Still, although the heat from the tub should make this experience worse, Honey just finds herself overtaken by gratification. Trevor’s making these choked groans and gasps in her ear and against her skin, which she feels are painting her body like a tattoo. Trevor’s pleasure is a part of her now. Knowing that he’s feeling good makes Honey feel even better– and when he comes, spilling inside of her like he’s physically unable to remove himself from her cunt long enough to come in his hand, Honey comes too.

She shudders with him inside of her, still fucking up into her lazily. Trevor’s eyes are half-closed, a smile gracing his face. He kisses her lips slowly, guiding her hips in smooth motions until Honey pats his chest and removes herself from his lap.

Honey climbs out of the tub, feeling water and Trevor’s cum slide down her legs. “Ew,” she murmurs to herself, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around herself.

“I hope that wasn’t a review,” Trevor pipes up with a laugh. “‘Ew’ is a terrible thing to say after sex, baby. Bruising my ego a bit.”

Honey sticks out her tongue at the boy. “Gonna go to the bathroom,” she says in lieu of an answer. “Steal some clothes from you. Are they still in a pile in your hamper?”

“Take some of my nice folded clothes in the dresser,” Trevor replies. He winks before adding, “Feel free to spray some of my cologne on the shirt so it smells that much more like me.”

Honey fake laughs at the boy: “Hardy har, Trevor.” She enters the house and heads up to his bedroom, tiptoeing around as if she’ll run into any of the boys. Luke is asleep on the couch in the living room, like she thought, and Quinn has disappeared. She can hear Cole and Jack behind Jack’s closed bedroom door, bickering about something still. Honey rolls her eyes. How they can fight when they’re both subbing in for Quinn tonight, she doesn’t know.

Once in Trevor’s room, Honey ties her hair up into a messy updo. She pees and hops in the shower to rinse herself off, using Trevor’s handheld shower head to clean her more intimate areas. Honey emerges shortly after, feeling much more refreshed and clean. The heat from the tub is no longer affecting her mind’s clarity.

She digs through Trevor’s dresser and finds a pair of boxers that resemble her favorite pair at home, which she throws on. On top of that, she wears one of Trevor’s hoodies. The sleeves cover her hands and she ties the strings into a little bow before she climbs into Trevor’s bed and cocoons herself under the covers.

A short while later, the boy finds her. He’s absolutely elated to have her in his bed, that much Honey can tell even without Trevor saying it aloud. It’s written all over his face when he jumps onto the bed and peppers kisses all over her face, and in the way that he snuggles up against her chest once he’s ready for bed. 

With one last kiss to her neck, Trevor is out like a light. Honey isn’t far behind him. Waking up and sneaking out of the house before church is the farthest thing from Honey’s mind with her sweet, doting boy breathing evenly next to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, for them to be sharing a bed. 

49:90 – TREVOR

“Why are you texting me when you know I stayed over?” Bea demands, barging into Trevor’s room. 

Trevor immediately pulls the covers to his chest. “Jesus Christ, Bea,” he exclaims. “All I did was wish you a happy birthday. Is that not allowed?”

Bea narrows her eyes at Trevor, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what,” she says. “We’re friends now?”

Trevor scoffs, sitting up in his bed. “I just thought it would be nice. It’s your birthday. I see you almost every day. Why wouldn’t I wish you a happy birthday?”

Bea remains skeptical, squinting at the boy. She taps her foot while she thinks. “I’ll allow it,” she decides. She drops her arms to her sides and looks around. “Where’s Honey?”

Trevor looks to her side of the bed. He frowns, a little confused at the empty space that should be occupied by the girl who went to sleep there. “I don’t– I dunno. I guess she snuck out while I was asleep.”

“Call her.”

“Call her?” Trevor repeats. 

“Call her,” Bea insists, like it’s an argument. 

Trevor blanches. “You call her.”

“She doesn’t pick up my calls this early anymore. You call her.” Bea points at his phone, jabbing the digit at it impatiently. “C’mon, Trevor, I need to talk to her.”

“Won’t you see her at lunch?” Trevor asks.

Bea takes a breath, closing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. “Trevor,” she says. She blinks open and her face is blank, impassive. “Please. Call her.”

Trevor reaches for his phone and holds it in his palm, biting his lip as he looks at Bea. She looks like she’s in pain while asking the boy for his help, reluctant, but certain that her decision is the correct one. Trevor slaps his phone against his palm and scrunches his nose. “You call her,” he reiterates, tossing the phone to Bea. 

She catches it, face contorted with confusion.

“What happened last night, anyway?” Trevor asks. “You seem…”

Bea glares at Trevor, causing him to snap his mouth shut. She turns his phone over and fiddles around a bit before putting the phone on speaker and throwing it back onto Trevor’s messy blankets. She joins him on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed. She places her hands on her ankles and straightens her back, watching as the phone rings and vibrates while they wait for Honey.

Trevor is a little uncomfortable, to be honest– Bea makes herself at home and he’s not wearing a shirt. No, she doesn’t care, and she’s wearing her pajamas too, but Trevor feels bare. 

“Hello?”

Trevor looks at Bea when Honey picks up, but the girl gestures at him to speak. Trevor, thrown off by the motion, says the only thing he can think of. “Hi, baby,” he greets quickly. He makes a face at Bea when she rolls her eyes, mouthing a defensive ‘what?’ at her.

“What’s up?” Honey asks.

“Um–” Trevor loses his train of thought, fighting silently with Bea as she motions for him to carry on the conversation before it’s her turn. “I was just, uh, calling to chat.”

Honey laughs. “Trev, I’m going to see you in three hours.”

“You didn’t say goodbye when you snuck out this morning,” Trevor says, making Bea faux-gag. ‘Fuck off,” Trevor mouths at her, sneering slightly.

‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ Bea mocks, sticking her tongue out.

“I did. You were half asleep and tried to hold me back by the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing,” Honey replies, amusement bleeding into her voice.

Oh, yeah. Trevor was there for that. He thought it was a dream. “Oh,” he says lamely.

Bea shakes her head, then picks up the phone so that she’s holding it flat in her palm, screen facing the ceiling. She speaks into the charging port, where the speakers are. “Are you coming to church?”

Honey pauses. “No.”

Bea groans, whining like a child. “Honey,” she drawls.

“Bea,” Honey replies, imitating the girl.

“I need you.” Bea pouts. Now, it’s Trevor’s turn to glare. He doesn’t like sharing, even with Honey’s best friend.

“Why do you need me?” Honey asks, her voice growing distant then returning like she switched which ear she was listening with mid-sentence.

Bea side-eyes Trevor before she speaks. “Q couldn’t get it up last night.”

Trevor can’t describe the feeling that overtakes him. This tidbit of information equally balances the scale again– when Quinn read Trevor’s sexts to Honey on Monday, the scale was thrown out of whack and Quinn had all the power. Now, Trevor knows something that Quinn doesn’t want him to know. It’s perfect. 

“Quinn– what?” Honey demands. There’s a clatter on her side of the line. She must have set something down so that she could hear better.

“He couldn’t get it up,” Bea hisses. “He had whiskey dick!”

The gossip is salacious. Trevor is delighted. He is so glad Bea didn’t take his phone and have this conversation privately. All of a sudden, his shirtlessness doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that Trevor is winning.

“No,” Honey breathes out. “On your birthday?”

“He couldn’t help it,” Bea explains with a frown, eyebrows turning down sympathetically. “We drank too much and, like, I know it happens sometimes, but it was just so jarring.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“Especially after we talked about Liv the night before,” Bea adds, turning and laying perpendicular from Trevor on his bed, knees bent over the edge and feet dangling. She places his phone on her chest, using both hands to cover her eyes in exasperation. “Also, yes, I overreacted and I had a threesome with Jack and Cole, but it wasn’t even fun for me. I was so in my head the whole time.”

Honey hums.

Trevor doesn’t understand. Quinn’s dick flagged, so Jack and Cole tagged in. That makes sense. Bea’s whole goal this summer was to get laid as many times as she could, with all of her partners. That’s solid– Trevor can work with that. But… being in your head during sex? Having sex ruined because you’re thinking? Trevor’s never had that problem before.

“What do you mean, you were in your head?” Trevor asks, interrupting.

Bea removes a hand from her face to glare at Trevor with her one visible eye. She groans, covering her face again. “Just– Trevor,” she says shortly. “Who’s the hottest man you can think of?”

“Ryan Reynolds,” Trevor responds instantly. He and the boys have talked about this before.

Bea sighs. “Of course you think that.” She takes another deep breath. “Such a fucking man response. Imagine Honey was seriously involved with Ryan Reynolds before you–”

“No, Blake would never allow that,” Trevor interrupts.

“Baby, that’s why it’s in your imagination,” Honey says patiently, whereas Bea had already thrown her hands down and turned her head to scowl at Trevor for interrupting her.

“And then imagine that the next time you go to hook up with Honey, after having a long conversation about her ex-boyfriend Ryan Reynolds, she’s not wet at all.” Bea states, over-enunciating her words. “How would you feel about that?”

Trevor is shocked by the comparison and how much it would affect him. “Oh, I’d be pissed,” he says.

Bea nods, her voice turning bitter and sarcastic. “Yeah, uh-huh. Then, to make things worse, you’re going to start comparing yourself to Ryan. ‘She’d be wet for Ryan,’ you’ll think. ‘Maybe he’s better for her. Maybe she should go back to him.’” She pauses, staring at him. “Now do you get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Trevor concedes, clenching his jaw a bit. 

Bea raises a finger. “One more thing. You’ll wonder if she thinks the same thing, so now you’re afraid that she’ll drop you to get him back.”

“Mhm,” Honey adds. 

“Well, don’t agree like you would,” Trevor complains, scoffing and frowning at Honey’s contact name on his phone screen.

“I’m not agreeing like I would,” Honey argues, exaggerating the same word as Trevor in the same tone. “I’m agreeing like Bea is making a good point. It’s a hypothetical, Trevor.”

“Well, it’s not fun,” Trevor says.

“No,” Bea interrupts. “It’s not.” She snaps her mouth shut and stares at Trevor, unblinking. Her nostrils flare briefly, then she breaks eye contact and returns to the phone, sitting up and resuming her previous position. She’s antsy, Trevor realizes. She’s jittery and anxious, not just pissed off.

“I thought you and Quinn were just hooking up,” Trevor says.

“We are,” Bea says, her voice a bit darker in that old reluctant way. “It’s just a little different. Quinn and I get each other more than Jack and me, or Cole and me.” She spits out the latter pairings like they’re sharp and piercing her mouth if they ruminate for too long on her tongue. 

“But– you wanted to hook up with all of them.” There’s still a bit of confusing lacing his words. “And you are. And you’ve enjoyed it.”

“Mm,” Honey hums. It’s a reminder that she’s still there, listening in, and Trevor and Bea aren’t having this discussion alone. “He’s right, Bea. You have enjoyed hooking up with them, just not last night.”

“I know,” Bea drones on. “That’s why it’s so hard. I, like, don’t even want to talk to him because it’s so stupid that I feel this way. I like hooking up with everyone. We decided that we wouldn’t be monogamous because he wasn’t over Liv yet.”

Trevor makes a face. He didn’t know that Quinn had said that. He seems fine all the time, but especially when Bea is there. They haven’t talked about Liv, or the breakup, since Jack originally informed Trevor and Cole that the relationship had ended in the first place. 

“You didn’t tell me that,” Honey says, but Bea interrupts, reacting to Trevor’s expression.

“Don’t make a face at me,” Bea chides. “Trevor, I feel bad. I like him! I think he’s awesome, but then he’ll say something offhandedly about missing her or something like this will happen–”

“This has happened before?” Trevor asks. “He's gotten whiskey dick before?”

Bea talks over him, ignoring him, except for a wave of her hand to silence him. “And I’m reminded that his ex-girlfriend is a model and that he’s looking to settle down with a wife and have babies!” She flounders, stammering a bit. “It’s just, like, so… so overwhelming. And it’s my fucking fault that I feel this way, because I’m the one who wanted to keep it casual and polyamorous when it could’ve gone the other way and I could’ve been happier with just Quinn. But then, he might not have enjoyed it because he just got out of this relationship so he also wanted something casual–”

“Bea, baby, you’re spiraling,” Honey murmurs. 

“I know, Honey,” Bea replies. “But, still, what am I supposed to do about this? I– fuck. I like being with him, and I think we’re a really good match, but it’s just not working out like I thought it would. Probably because I like him. But I also like what we’re doing and I don’t want to change it that much. Things just aren’t working the way that I thought they were and it’s my own fucking fault..”

“Buzzy,” Honey sighs. “He knows what he got into at the start of the summer. You told him and he agreed and endorsed your Slut Summer.”

“What if he regrets that?” Bea asks, eyes wide and growing faraway due to her frustration. She looks like she’s seconds away from crying. “Like– I don’t regret this, but I shouldn’t have made it such a deal. I’m worried Quinn is having second thoughts, too.”

Trevor hopes that she doesn’t cry, to be honest– he doesn't want to be sitting in his bed with Bea at the foot of it, bawling over Quinn and their confusing relationship.

“Fuck, not the what-ifs,” Honey teases, laughing.

Trevor’s not sure that’s what he would’ve said, but it seems to make Bea deflate a bit. She’s not as pent-up.

“Why did you have to go home so early?” Bea asks helplessly, cracking her knuckles. “I wish you were here to give me a hug.”

Honey is silent for a split second before her voice rings through the speakers. “Trevor, give Bea a hug.”

Trevor and Bea look at each other, side-eying the other person warily. Trevor raises an eyebrow. Bea rolls her head back on her shoulders and Trevor hears her neck crack, too. 

Too much time seems to pass for Honey, because she takes a deep breath. Trevor can practically hear the eye roll. “You guys are so annoying. Bea– you want a hug and I’m not there to give one to you. Trevor’s there. Trevor– you love a cuddle and you’d be equally as upset if you had to deal with Ryan Reynolds showing you up, even though his relationship with me is long dead. Not that that’s what Liv is doing,” she clarifies. “Quinn likes you too, Bea. Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help it,” Bea whines. “You’re the same way, Honey.”

Honey slows her speech. “Calm down. Take a break from all of this for a minute. Give Trevor a hug and then go enjoy your birthday. I will see you in a couple hours and I’ll give you a hug then, okay?”

“Okay,” Bea agrees miserably. 

“Okay,” Honey repeats. “I’m hanging up now. I’m trying to bake a cake and you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“Sorry,” Bea apologizes, going back to gnawing on her bottom lip. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Hug Trevor. I hope you feel better, babe.”

Honey hangs up and Bea returns Trevor’s phone to his hand. She looks up at him from under her eyelashes reluctantly, wincing a bit. “I didn’t expect you to hear that much. Didn’t realize we’d be getting so deep on my birthday.”

Trevor shrugs. “It’s okay.”

Bea twists her hands together awkwardly. “We don’t have to hug.”

“Well, Honey said so,” Trevor replies. 

Bea laughs. “Trev, I know you’re, like, in love with her, but you don’t have to do everything she says.”

Trevor feels his face grow red. “‘m not in love with her,” he mumbles. “I just–” He shakes his head with a breath and stops himself. “I think she’s right. She thinks you need a hug, so I’ll give you a hug. She’s smart, we should listen to her.”

Bea rolls her eyes, then shifts on the bed and leans into Trevor’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her tightly against his torso before releasing her. It’s a brief hug, and not a full one, but it seems to be fine for now. Honey can give Bea a real hug later.

“Do you think she was right about all of it?” Bea asks when they break apart. She itches the tip of her nose with her knuckle. 

Trevor makes a nonchalant noise, trying to decide what to say. “What, uh, part? All of her advice was good.”

Bea scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re not biased at all.” She pauses, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s about to ask. “Just– the break part. Should I take a break? Is that even what she meant?” She scrunches her face up and Trevor is surprised that she’s actually asking his opinion. She came in here to talk to Honey, but now that Honey’s gone, she’s still talking to him. 

So, Trevor thinks on it. “I think… I don’t think it could hurt,” he tells Bea. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Leaving Quinn alone for a couple of days might help you figure out what you want.”

Bea nods tentatively. “Okay,” she says. “I– yeah, I guess. Might as well try it, right?”

Trevor nods. “You guys are good, though,” he offers. It’s a weak statement. “You’re not the same as Liv. He seems happier with you.”

Bea forces a tight smile onto her face. “Thanks, Trev.”

A silence falls between them for a beat. 

Bea breaks it. “We should probably get ready for church.” Her eyes fall to Trevor’s chest and she grimaces, judging him. “You’re underdressed, I think.”

Trevor falls back into their normal dynamic at her words, reacting with apt defense for himself. “Dude, you’re the one who charged in here.”

“Well, I was in crisis.”

“Okay, well, don’t let Quinn see you leaving my room so early in the morning in your pajamas,” Trevor sasses. “I think that’ll make your crisis worse.”

Bea climbs off the bed. “You might be patient zero of the sassy man apocalypse,” Bea snaps, although Trevor can tell that they’re still joking with each other. “And that’s not a compliment.”

With that, she leaves the room.

Annoyed that he didn’t get the last word, Trevor grumbles to himself while he gets ready for the day. He goes through the motions at church, side-eying Bea throughout the mass and checking his watch and phone as often as he can without the Litchton residents calling him out for being disrespectful in “the Lord’s house.”

It’s happened before, just once. That was when he was in the parking lot after mass was over– so Trevor can’t imagine how they’d feel about seeing his phone in the middle of something so sacred to them. He’s willing to risk it, but only because he’s itching to see Honey. Now that they’re together, in a sense, Trevor can barely stay away from her for more than a few hours. He’ll do it if he has to, but God, he doesn’t want to.

Even once they make it through church and head to lunch, drawing closer to Honey, Trevor doesn’t miss the way that Bea brushes Quinn off as nonchalantly as she can. She doesn’t want to make a deal of it and it’s making Quinn more and more quiet throughout the day. He holds the door for Bea, but they sit on opposite ends of the table at lunch. Quinn doesn’t even hand over the little square box that he spent so long trying to wrap perfectly when Honey reveals her present and Bea’s cake. 

It’s too late to go back now, but Trevor is starting to wonder if he should’ve advised Bea to take a break at all. She and Quinn look out of place, looking away from each other whenever their eyes meet. Yet, they can’t seem to ignore the other. They’re always trying to sneak glances and they always look seconds away from calling out to the other before looking down, which is when the other person will sneak their peek and the process repeats.

It’s sad, really. Trevor feels bad. This probably wasn’t how Bea wanted her birthday to go. At least she got a hug from Honey, though, as promised.

In brighter news, Trevor is able to sneak a kiss with Honey when they pass each other in the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It’s a quick peck, but it leaves Trevor smiling stupidly for the rest of the meal. 

[nanaminsmoon]

jus noticed that geto has nothing… my man my man my man listen ik this trope has been done but hyperfem spoiled reader & plug geto 🫶🏾 or literally any trope i jus have geto brain rot rn -🪩

omg something must be in the air bc i've been feeling the exact same way i think the edits are getting to me😞

cw: plug!geto x spoiledblackfem!reader, pnv, unprotected sex, oral(m receiving), spit kink, geto calls reader; 'baby', cock warming for a lil bit at the end.

wc: 2674

given the duration of your relationship, geto knew you inside and out. reading your emotions only took a simple look, the easiest expressions to read being the ones you gave him when you wanted something. those were the behaviours he was most well-versed in; due to his laidback and lenient nature, geto gave you anything your pretty little heart desired. and his most regretful gift he had given you was making you aware of your power over him, and his bank account. because once it landed in your hands, you abused it. your tactics of choice were so overused, that they now seemed rehearsed. yet geto would give in every single time, because he enjoyed the ruse as much as you did. perhaps even more. he loved the way you were touchier than usual; the warmth of your skin bleeding into the delicacy of your actions. the fight to not be beguiled by you was futile, so he’d humour you until he physically couldn’t anymore.

like the time you had approached him from behind, taking a deep breath as you walked to where he was sat in the living room—his attention reserved for the weed and scales in front of him. panic about distracting him would be quashed when you’d notice his head looking up to the tv, as he laughed at whatever he was watching. and, well assimilated to your dynamic, you rarely got nervous about asking geto for stuff, but the price of this particular purchase had landed on your lungs harshly, pushing a hefty breath out of them. and you’d make a laughable attempt at calming yourself as you stalked over to him. geto’s ears would perk up at the light sound of footsteps and, eyes still glued to the screen, he’d turn his head. there’d be no need to turn fully because you’d soon be stood behind him, shimmery lips delicately landing on his cheeks a few times. but, after a few moments, he’d turn properly to meet them with his own.

affection wasn’t a rarity in your relationship, so nothing about your actions would be a cause for concern. even as your hands delicately landed on his bare shoulders, thumbs dissolving the tension in his muscles. geto would just shift to click his neck, before an approving groan would leave his lips. a part of you felt bad for using much-needed stress relief to coax your wishes out of him, but you had a girls trip the following week and this one bag completed one of your fits perfectly. so you’d press on,

“you’ve been sat here all day, pa, need me to cook you sumn?”, you’d ask, sweetly kissing his neck and the shell of his ear. geto’s silence would be unbroken as his only response would be a shake of his head, as he placed weed on his scale. it was like knowledge of your intentions was forcing him to be uncooperative. because it was; geto had caught on to the way you’d stopped taking your phone with you everywhere, instead leaving it unlocked in random places with the screen displaying a screenshot of the bag you wanted. he just wanted you to ask him directly, instead of beating around the bush.

and he’d get his straight forward approach, when his shoulders would be stripped of their relaxation and you’d move forward to backhug him instead. despite still being stood behind the sofa, you’d try to get as close as you could, planting slow kisses on his bare skin.

“so~”, you'd begin, tucking stray hairs behind his pierced ears. whatever geto was watching proved to be more interesting than you, because his focus wouldn’t waver. but he would offer you more of a response than before, in the form of a low hum moving past his lips as they held his blunt.

“hm”,

“well~there's this really pretty bag i saw, but it's so expensive.”, you’d mold your lips into the pout that always helped you get your way. yet, when you looked to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction, there seemingly wasn't one. but you wouldn’t let it discourage you,

“can you buy it for me please~?”, you pleaded, to no avail. not until the blunt between geto’s lips would be placed on his ash tray, his lips blowing smoke out his mouth once he did,

“first off, ‘f you wanna ask me for sumn then at least have the fucking decency to do it to my face”, he spat, and his reprimand would be cut short by your legs rushing to sit you on his lap. a faint smile would be sent your way as his hands moved to smooth over your thighs, before he'd ask,

“second, how much is it?”. money was no object to geto, but you’d always neglect to mention the prices of everything you asked for, or bought on his card. it was a purposeful decision, and it was always made to prevent trouble. but when he asked for it directly, you had no choice but to tell him.

“500…”, you'd say quietly, and geto would scoff in disbelief—both at the price, and at your sudden lack of confidence.

“dollars?”, he'd ask, and you'd nod meekly, avoiding eye contact, ”i asked you a question”, he said, and you'd huff dramatically in impatience .

“well yeah, what else would it be?”, you said with a tone far too agitated to be directed towards the man in front of you. immediately, geto's hand would lift to grab your jaw.

“watch that tone.”, he'd chide through gritted teeth.

“sorry”, you'd reply quietly, and geto's strengthened grip on your jaw would have your head moving backwards to look him directly in the eyes.

“how are you so loud when you want sumn, but so quiet when it's time to apologise?”, he'd shake your head, and your voice raised.

“well it ain't my fault your high ass can't fucking hear.”, that retort was far too quick, and you could see the surprise it caused written on geto's face. it was as if your mouth had gotten too comfortable and had forgotten who you were talking to. because, guiltily looking at him now, you could see that you'd fucked up. and geto knew too. that's why he'd smile at you, hand moving from your jaw to your neck before he'd say,

“and now my high ass ain't gettin’ you shit”.

low groans and cuss words would take turns leaving geto’s mouth as he leant back on the couch; one arm outstretched on the top of the cushions, and the other on the back of your head. his head would rest on his shoulder, as he guided you so you could take more of him. geto’s theory was that if your mouth was inadequate in the art of talking right, then he’d train it, to excellency, at another skill.

”you sound so much better—fuck—so much better when you're just gagging on dick”, he'd tease, looking down at the tears brimming in your eyes. they’d implore for him to pull you back, and he’d listen dutifully. he’d lean forward to pull you back up by your hair, maintaining a grip on it that allowed him to make you face him directly.

looking at the briny apologies threatening to roll onto your cheeks almost made his heart lurch, but the hardness between his legs needed tending to, so that almost wouldn't be enough to change his mind. so you'd be back on his dick immediately, and his helping hand wouldn't leave you; moving your hair out your face, stroking your cheek, and even reaching over to grab at the flesh spilling out of your shorts.

“i shoulda known that a girl with an ass like this would bring nothin’ but problems”, he'd sigh, reaching over to his blunt to take another hit. the smoke would pervade the air above you, as your mouth had geto leaning his head on the sofa. the curling of his toes, and growing strength in his hand contractions told him he was close.

“you're gonna take it all ain't you, baby?”, he'd look down at you, and you'd nod around his length, “my greedy girl. always so good f’r me—”, he’d said, pouting, but his taunts would be cut short by the feeling of his balls emptying into your mouth. once he’d come down from his high, geto would lean down to push the leaking nut, back into your mouth, tsking at you as he did so.

“such a messy girl”, he’d shake his head.

geto didn't even have the courtesy to take you to your bed. though well-mannered enough to help you rise to your feet, that’s the furthest his chivalry would extend. because, once he helped stripped you of your pyjamas, you were on all-fours on the couch—gripping onto the arm rests as his large hands pulled you onto his dick. one of them would move to wrap around your 40-inch bundles, reining you in any time you tried to run from the repercussions of your loose mouth. at this point, it seemed like the real punishment was taking him without any prior prep. because geto was blessed with both length and girth, so taking him was a challenge in itself. but it was a challenge that, stomach tightening, pleasure made very easy to accept. adjusting to his size wasn’t the only issue, there was also the fact that his thrusts resembled those of a man who was finally being given an outlet to express his hidden disdain. though they lit a fire inside you, that coursed through your veins, they tightened your hands’ grip on the armrest. this man was fucking you so hard you were convinced you’d break a nail. that'd bring you to a total of three, following the two you had broken while fucking the night before. even still, nothing could distract from the feeling of his hand in your hair,

“baby, my hair”, you moaned out, reaching to place a hand on the large one in your tresses.

“y’think i give a fuck? i paid for it ‘nd i'll do whatever i want to it”, would be geto’s only response, accompanied by his spiteful hand collecting more of your hair to pull you back. his other one would move to wrap around your throat, attaching your back to his chest.

“open.”, he’d instruct curtly, and you’d open you mouth for him to spit in it, before swallowing without further instruction.

“what’d i say about gratitude, baby? say ‘thank you’”, he kissed your neck, biting down on it when he realised that he’d fucked you out of coherent thought.

“th-thank you”, you said, aided by his thrusts knocking the words off your tongue to fill the space around you.

the feeling of your warmth enveloping his dick had stolen geto’s sight of why he was fucking you so harshly in the first place. so, after a little while, your forehead would be greeting a cushion as you keened a mix of geto’s name and pleas for him not to stop, into the fabric underneath you. the once pitiless hand in your hair had softened into a more romantic one—moving the dark brown tresses covering your back, so he could kiss affirmative words onto the expanse of it. geto could never stay mad at you for too long, that’s why you got everything you wanted; because he hated the feeling of anything that didn’t make you happy. that’s why when the feeling of you starting to contract around him would be joined by desperate whines, he’d lean forward to rub at your clit,

“baby, imma m-mess up the c-couch, wait”, your hands would reach to, barely, wrap around his forearm. but all the strength in your body was focused on tightening the knot in your stomach, so your grip would loosen with every movement of geto’s hips.

“you can make a mess, baby, it's okay”, he'd reassure. and his lips, dick, and fingers would work in tandem to feed you stimulation, until you felt your release wash over you. geto would feel it too, so he wouldn’t hush you, nor neglect you to chase his own end. he’d just keep giving you what you needed, and a little extra.

“i know, baby, i know”, geto reassured, as his lips left a trail of wet spots on your back, and shoulders.

geto’s astute eyes would watch the tension from your release simmer to settle, before he’d pull out of you to sit down on the couch. his pupils would be fixated on your face’s every micro-movement, studying you until they deemed you fit enough to take him again. that’s when he’d move you onto his lap, sliding you down onto his dick. seeing how he had fucked you senseless just a few minutes prior, geto wasn’t expecting you to be moving and bouncing on his dick the way you were. and, if he wasn’t so busy writhing underneath you, he would’ve been impressed.

since you were doing all the work, he’d reach over to take another hit from his blunt, making sure to not blow the smoke in your face once he faced you again. the look in your eyes as you kept them on his, pulled his hands from your thighs and hips, to the sides of your face as he kissed you messily.

“jus’ keep movin’ like that, baby, i’m almost there”, he said, against your lips. and, true to his word, you’d bounce on him one more time before his fingertips were digging into you to still you, so he could fill you with his nut. the position he had placed you in meant that the strained fruits of his vocal cords’ labour would be trickling into your ear as he came—vocal as always. the both of you would then sit, chests heaving in sync as you calmed yourselves down.

once calm and, quite frankly, tired as fuck, neither of you would be in any rush to move from your position. lifting off you him didn't seem beneficial to geto at that time, so he'd just keep you there and go about his business. your legs would remain wrapped around his waist as he'd lean to change the tv channel, and continue weighing the drugs on the table. in a weird way, being connected to you like that calmed him; it made him feel more productive in some odd, unexplainable way. and when he went to pick his blunt up for the nth time, a voice in his head would ask him to offer you a hit but, so sure he had heard your light snores as your chin rested on his shoulder, he decided against it. and, looking at you out the corner of his eye, it looked like your eyes were closed too. but the true test would be his following words,

“send me the link”, he said, and he’d almost choke on smoke as a laugh floated up his throat at your sudden alertness.

“for what?”, you said, moving your head back to look at his face.

“the bag, dickhead. you wan’ it or not?”, another chortle would resound when you'd lift yourself off geto, coercing winces and deep breaths from the both of you, to limp your way to your room to retrieve your phone.

©Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

[tcmuses]

Being up this late was something that didn’t happen very often for Quin. Out of all the guys in the household, he was, arguably, the best at sleeping. Sure, it was in part because of the copious amounts of weed he smoked, but also because he actually had a normal sleep schedule. Thankfully, his boyfriend was actually getting a bit of sleep for once. He’d been up the last two days working on a project, and had finally crashed a couple hours ago. Josiah was probably the worst offender, but it wasn’t like Lip or Benson were much better. If he hadn’t just seen the two of them head upstairs he would’ve bet money on them being out in the garage working. Unfortunately for Quin, he’d woken up with an unquenchable thirst and an empty water bottle on his nightstand. So he’d dragged himself out of bed, and down into the kitchen to find something to drink. Quin groaned loudly when his eyes stopped on the clock built into their microwave. It was just a bit before 3am, and Quin knew it’d be a while before he was able to fall back asleep once he went upstairs. He was just about to open the fridge when a knock on the front door nearly made him jump out of his skin. He glanced over at the clock once more, to be sure he hadn’t misread it. He hadn’t. Which was unsettling, to say the least. There weren’t a lot of people that would show up to their door unannounced, let alone this late into the night.

Normally, he’d just check the camera’s on his phone, but he’d left it upstairs in the hope that this would be a quick excursion. Frozen in place, he tried to decide on what the best course of action would be. Benson and Lip had just went to bed, so they’d probably be up a little bit longer. Worst case, they’d hear a commotion and come running if whoever was at the door had bad intentions. Besides, they kept a bat near the door. He nearly jumped when another knock came, causing his heart to race. Quietly, he crept towards the door, one hand on the bat as he unlocked it. He opened it slowly, trying to peek out and see who it was before they could make their way into the house. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw who it was.

“Syd, what the fuck are you doing out here so late?” He questioned. Syd clearly took that as an invitation, shuffling her way inside and out of her coat, “I tried to ring the doorbell, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything.” Quin let go of the handle of the bat and closed the door behind her before quickly locking it back up. “It’s broken,” he paused, his stomach turning. He’d been excited to see her at first, he liked the girl, and she was fun to talk to. But it was late. Really late. “Why are you here?” He questioned, hoping it didn’t come out too harsh. His thoughts were racing, worried something bad might have happened to her. She looked well enough, though.

“I’m here to raid your fridge ‘cause my date went really bad, and all I’ve had is lukewarm water and breadsticks” she replied before pausing, “Wait, am I imposing? I can go? I just…” Quickly, he shook his head. “No, no, no, it’s totally fine, just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he tried to reassure her. It seemed to work, as she calmed down and gave him a smile. “Wait, did you say you were out on a date?” He asked, brows furrowing. She nodded, “Yeah, a really bad one.” Quin bit the inside of his cheek. He knew Lip was pretty invested in Sydney. He wouldn’t admit to it, not yet. But he talked about her all the time, and when they’d all hang out he’d catch the pining glances he shot her way. He should’ve told Lip to go for it sooner— then again, she’d said it was a bad date. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he walked them down the hall and into the kitchen, “No worries, I was just about to eat” he lied. “I’ll make us something, yeah?” She seemed hesitant to accept. Knowing her, she didn’t want to put him out. “It’s really no trouble, I’ll just scramble some eggs or something,” he offered. “Alright, but only if you’re eating too,” she said.

Quin removed his arm from her shoulders once they reached the kitchen, gesturing for her to sit down. “Do you uh, want to smoke?” He asked, opening up the fridge and looking for the eggs. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw her shaking her head, “No that’s okay.” He nodded in affirmation and went back to grabbing his ingredients, cheese, butter, the works. Setting them down on the counter with one hand, he used his other to open the cabinet and get some spices out. “So, it’s pretty late to be coming home from a date, right?” He hadn’t ‘dated’ in a while, having been with Josiah since high school. But from what he remembered, most dates didn’t last this long. Syd let out a groan, dropping her head into her hands “Don’t remind me.” He laughed a bit, thinking to himself how cute she could be sometimes. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” He asked, grabbing a pan and turning the burner on.

“Well, I was already kinda hesitant to go out with him, but he was really insistent so I agreed,” she stared. Immediately, Quin’s lips settled into a frown. He knew how dating could be for women. He hated to hear that Syd was doing anything she didn’t want to, but that was the reality of it all. Agree for your personal safety, play nice. Gross. He started to cooking the eggs, waiting for her to continue. “We were supposed to go out way earlier, but he was late picking me up. By the time we got to the restaurant they were shutting down the kitchens. They let us sit at the bar, because that was open for a little while longer, but the drinks weren’t good and all we had to eat were leftover breadsticks,” she sighed.

“Damn,” he replied, “He sounds like a loser.” And he wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better. Syd was a sweet girl, way too kind for her own good. You had to be an idiot to fumble the bag like this guy had. “When did you finally leave?” He asked while he ground some pepper onto the eggs. “Well, we finally left around midnight, but obviously we were still hungry because neither of us had really eaten, so he drove around for a while trying to find somewhere to get food. I tried to tell him that everything was probably closed, but he wasn’t really listening.” Quin rolled his eyes, “Probably embarrassed and didn’t want to admit it was his fault y’all didn’t get to eat.” Syd, ever so gracious, waved her hand, “No, I really think he really thought somewhere would be open. Either way, he didn’t find anything, so he offered to make something at his apartment. The drive there took a while—“

“Syd! You can’t just go to a random man’s apartment in the middle of the night,” he cut her off. The vibes were bad from the story alone, he could only imagine how shady the guy was in person. The worry he’d had at first came back, his stomach flopping nervously. “No I know,” she replied sheepishly. “You’re okay though, right? He didn’t try anything?” He turned, ignoring the pan on the stove behind him. His eyes roamed her face, trying to find any hint of something wrong.

“No,” she shook her head fervently, “Well, kinda, but nothing happened.” He bit the inside of his cheek again, feeling somewhat sick. “Nothing happened?” He didn’t want to push her, especially not if she wasn’t comfortable sharing. At the same time, he couldn’t let behavior like that slide. Sensing his worry, she nodded, “Nothing happened. I’m really okay. I was safe and everything.” She seemed… confused. Like she wasn’t expecting this level of worry from him. “Okay, good,” he murmured, turning back around as his cheeks reddened. Now that he was back to cooking, Syd returned to her story.

“So, anyways, we get to his place, and by then I’m starving. I probably should’ve known better than tot hunk he was actually going to cook. He immediately tries to set the mood for me, lighting candles, playing music. I tried to remind him we were there because we hadn’t eaten, so He threw some ramen into the microwave,” she said, sure to emphasize the method of cooking. “The whole thing was just, weird, so i made an excuse to leave. I got an uber and had them drop me off here…” she trailed off. “I’m not sure why I didn’t just have them take me home,” she laughed, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. He wasn’t sure why she was embarrassed, but he hoped it wasn’t because she felt unwelcome.

“Because no one can resist my cooking,” he joked, separating the eggs onto two plates for each of them. Walking over to the table he set one plate and a fork in front of her and the other at the spot next to him. “Besides, Mi casa, su casa,” he reassured her. Syd looked touched, maybe even unsure how to respond. Instead, he encouraged her to eat. It didn’t really take much encouragement at all, however, as she quickly dug in. Pushing his food around on his plate he mulled over what to say. “I’m sorry your date was shit. You’re a catch, and there’s definitely someone out there for you. Maybe closer than you think. You never know?” He shrugged.

[lily-drake]

Death

Death was nothing new in Marinette’s life.  In fact it played a large role.  Her friends and city had died a hundred times over.  Her brother.  Her funny, smart, loving, dramatic brother had died at the hands of a mad man.  She didn’t think it was wrong for her to use the horse miraculous to visit her brother's grave.  It was officially five years after all.  He would be 20, he would have loved to plan out her 16th birthday this year.  She sat down and read Pride and Prejudice out loud, only a few tears falling as she glanced at the grave every so often.  She had also brought a bouquet of white lilies, statices, red carnations, and white daisies.  Soft grass laid over the dirt, the sun gleamed above, and sometimes when she would lean against the grave it was almost like she could feel him.

Dark storm clouds began to cloud the sky, and she knew she would have to leave soon, though she didn’t want to.  Dad would be upset if he caught her, though considering how many weeds she had to remove from the grave and how abandoned it looked, she doubted anyone had visited any time soon.  Suddenly the rain began to pour down and it felt like the earth shook.  She felt a great imbalance, but where, and how?  She touched both of her ears and she could feel her miraculous still there, Tikki even poked her head out from her bag with a look of fear.  A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as rain came pouring down soaking everything in sight.  She looked around, and she kept spinning searching for something, anything that could have caused or been affected by the imbalance.  She waited there for many minutes just waiting, when she felt the dirt beneath her feet begin to shift a little.  She quickly moved away and watched as the dirt slowly moved and shifted.  She felt sick, because the dirt moving was directly where Jason was lying in eternal rest.  This couldn’t be right, this must be some mistake!  Her brother had died, she had seen the body, it haunted her nightmares for so many nights.  He’s been gone for five years!  This can’t be possible without some type of wish.

The grass began to move and shift away, and a fleshy mud covered hand raised from the ground causing a scream to rip from her lungs.  Her body sprung into action before her mind caught up to her beginning to help dig up her brother's grave, and when she saw the jet black hair covered in dirt and mud she knew that it was him.  She heaved him out from the hole and stared in shocked horror as he just sat there staring at her.  His eyes were the same blue she remembered, but they were so clouded.  Fear, confusion, and nothing shown in his eyes, like he wasn’t even truly there.  This must be a dream, it has to be, no, a nightmare.  Her brother shouldn’t be back, he died, she saw his limp body in dad’s hands, even if Alfred and bluebird tried to stop her.  But the imbalance was real, she could tell, and he was affected by it.

Slowly she raised her hand and hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek.  He leaned into her hand, though his eyes were still clouded and void.  He may be alive, but he wasn’t fully…alive.  She tackled her older brother into a hug and began sobbing onto him, but just sat there, head leaning against hers.  Pressing her ear against his chest she could hear his gentle heartbeat, and just for a moment everything seemed like it would be ok.  Then she felt a sharp prick in her neck and the world faded to black.

________

Marinette awoke to darkness.  She tried to sit up and felt her hands held behind her back being held together by something cold and thick.  Memories flooded back into her mind and she snapped into awareness and looked around.  It was dark, though there was a small light coming from a window far above where she could not ever reach.  The walls seemed to be made of thick stones and there was a heavy iron door a few feet in front of her.  Jason wasn’t there though, he wasn’t in the room, she didn’t understand.  Suddenly the door opened and she looked up and saw her mother’s green eyes.  Her panic grew again, how did she get here, was she captured too?  She had visited her often in Paris.  She was very vague about her job, and she knew it was probably sketchy, but could it be bad enough to be captured?

“Marinette, My Darling.  I apologize for your treatment, I did not realize that you were part of this.”

Talia rushed towards her daughter and unlocked the chains.  She was pulled into a tight hug that Marinette quickly returned.  After a few moments she pulled away but held her shoulders gently.

“I must show you something, come.”

Talia quickly stood and helped her daughter to her feet and walked swiftly through the calls of Nanda Parabat.

“What is mom?”

Talia smiled at that, she had always loved when her daughter called her that.

“It’s a surprise, My Flower.”

A few more twists though hallways and they stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

“I want you to meet someone.”

The door was pushed open and there sat a small baby in a crip with dark black hair, tanned skin, and dark green eyes.  Marinette gasped and covered her mouth,

“Meet your brother, Damian.”

Marinette slowly walked over and stared at Damian through the top of the crib.  He silently watched and studied her without making a sound.

“He’s about 3 months old.”

Talia said, smiling happily as she watched her daughter run her fingers through Damian’s small tresses of hair.  With a snap of her finger one of her shadows stepped next to her.

“Bring Jason.”

And with that order they were gone returning a few minutes later with a boy who was alive physically, but was mentally gone.  She could fix that though, it would be the last resort if all else failed, but she could fix it.  Marinette looked up when she heard Jason’s footsteps and her bright smile fell slightly into a small sad one.

“Jay-Jay.”

She whispered softly as she took slow steps towards the boy.  She quickly ran and hugged him again.  He no longer smelled like mud and he wasn’t wearing his suit, and he was….he was alive again!  Tears fell down her cheeks, because she missed him so much.

________

Marinette stayed with her mom in what she learned was Nanda Parabat.  She trained with Jason, but he was catatonic, just going through the motions blankly.  It worried her, especially as she watched her mother grow more anxious.  She cared for her little brother, and wondered if her dad knew, or if he would even care.  She often looked at Paris news for when she needed to go for Akuma attacks, but if her host parents even realized she was gone.  They hadn’t, nor had any of her “friends” apparently as they hadn’t sent her a single thing from the weeks she’s been gone.

Marinette knew that Nada Parabat wasn’t a good place, knew that the people were bad, knew that her grandfather was the head of it.  He didn’t seem to care who she was, he just thought she was some nurse for Damian, and she was thankful for that.  She knew that the Lazarus Pits were here, what they did, how they were made, how her grandfather used them for selfish purposes.  She didn’t do anything though, she was mad at her father for sending her away, mad that he adopted a bee kid only a year after he sent her away, mad that he never talked to her, mad that Dick never fought for her or looked for her, mad that Jason was forced to wake up and climb his way out of his grave only to be practically brain dead, mad that her classmates believed lies over her, mad that her host parents believed them and treated her like dirt or an invisible object meant to seen and not heard, mad that Chat Noir would leave her during battles because she didn’t return his affections, and mad that no one cared that she was gone!  So she trained as hard as she could, made sure that she perfected everything her mother threw at her.  Took care of her family and made sure they knew how thankful she was for them and loved them.  Then when she finally got a text from someone it was insults for being a horrible person and hurting Lila when she hadn’t been there for weeks!

She threw her phone at the wall and the crack echoed around the room.  Her breathing was harsh and ragged and then the tears she had been holding back finally fell.  Sobs wracked her body as she bit her lip to keep silent.  She tried to take in deep shuddering breaths, but it was no use and the sobs came out.  Her knees felt weak and she crumpled to the ground.  The door burst open and she saw her mom there knife in hand looking around the room with swift deadly eyes.  When she didn’t see any visible threats she kneeled in front of her daughter and looked directly into her eyes.  Eyes a storming blue that flooded with tears and made her heart ache and her want to murder whoever made her precious daughter look so broken.

“My Flower, what’s wrong?”

“N-nobody cares ab-about me!  No one cares that I’m g-gone.  Everyb-body hates me, and I’m so tired of it!  I’ll n-never be enough for an-anybody and I’m t-trying so h-hard to do wh-what everyone needs or exp-ects me to be!”

Marinette stuttered out between sobs.  Talia glared at that and felt anger at Bruce.  She thought that he at least checked in with her every once in a while.  She had guessed wrong then.  She pulled her daughter into a hug and let her cry against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh.  It’s okay.  You are perfect the way you are Marinette.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You’re such a good sister, you train so hard, and you have so many amazing skills and talents.  You are enough, don’t let anyone say anything different.”

Marinette gripped onto her mom and they both just sat there in silence as Marinette finally just cried.  After who knows how long Marinette gently pushed away and looked her mom directly in the eyes with complete seriousness said,

“I want you to help me fake my death.  If everyone wants to pretend I’m gone or wants me to disappear, then fine.  I will.  I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

Talia stared at her daughter in shock for a moment then gave her a small smile.

“It will be done my dear, you will be free.”

“Thank you mom.”

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@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @laurcad123

[ushiluv]

Late Night Drive 

skate rat!suna x reader 

When you accepted Suna’s confession, you did not know that it also meant accepting to go on a late night car ride with him to the other side of town to vandalize some old skate park that “belonged” to a bunch of guys he didn’t like. (wc: 2330)

warnings 

anal, squirting, overuse of pet names, reader has female anatomy, use of daddy, sex in public but there’s no one around, overstimulation, this is kinda really fluffy, cervix fucking, use of the word cunny, let me know if i missed anything! not proofread yet 

note from the author 

 i really enjoyed writing this so i hope you guys will like it! let me know what i can improve. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” you asked as you sat yourself down on the passenger side of your boyfriend’s car.

“Of course, princess, when have I ever not been sure of something?” he responded with a sly grin on his face.

“ ‘m just saying we could be in a lot of trouble if we get caught.”

“We won’t.” he made sure you put your seatbelt on and started the car “And if we do, you could just show them your tits and-” the punch you landed on his arm stopped him from finishing his sentence.

“You’re horrible.” you mumbled under your breath.

He didn’t respond, opted to offer you a chuckle and a squeeze to your thigh instead.

Suna was quite the phenomenon and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on him prior to his confession. Truth be told, you had no idea he was into you; that’s why his confession came in as such a shock. You thought he was joking, so you lightly laughed when he spilled his heart out to you on a friday afternoon in a park near Inarizaki High. But the frown on his face and broken look in his eyes showed in every way possible that he was, in fact not lying. That’s why you quickly apologized and accepted his confession before admitting your own feelings towards him. You knew what kind of student he was and what he did in his free time, but you had no idea that he would ever drag you down with him in his rebellious tendencies.

After a few minutes of small talk backed up by Suna’s late night music playlist, you two arrived at the infamous abandoned skatepark. He got a bag full of spray paint cans from the backseat and handed you a pretty pink one.

“Thought of you when I bought it” he said after putting a black hoodie on.

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh how romantic of you my dear Rinnie.”

“Shut up.” he grumbled before getting out of the car.

After putting on one of his hoodies that he left purposely in the car for you, you got out and followed his footsteps. The place lived up to its name, it was abandoned. The rails were rusty, the bowls were full of dirt and weeds and the ramps seemed impossible to skate on. But, for some reasons that were unknown to you, not a single graffiti could be found on any surface. Your lovely boyfriend seemed to be the first one who had the idea of giving the palace new colours.  

“Why do people even come here? Seems gross to me.” you said as you took a closer look to the middle of one of the bowls. You swore you could smell death from it.

Suna shook the spray can he was holding. “Dunno.” He took your arm with his free hand and dragged you away from the bowl. “Just know they care a lot about this place for some reason. Come on now, I don’t wanna spend the night here.”

You followed him (not like you had a choice) and got ready to do your own share of damage. Suna giggled as he spray painted dicks and curse words all around the oh-so-important place and you could do nothing else than roll your eyes at his childish actions while you painted neon pink doodles. As you watched him paint a curse word that you were sure could not be found in any dictionary, you realize how deep in love you were with that man. Thoughts about your future together started fogging your brain and you could feel your cheeks heat up at the idea of spending the rest of your days with him.

“Babe look at- What’s wrong?” your arms suddenly flew around his waist and your face found place on his chest.

“Just thinking about how much I love you.”

You felt Suna relax as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, baby, but look at what I just painted!” he turned you around, excited to show you his new artwork (if you could call it that).

It took about another twenty minutes for him to be completely satisfied with his new art piece. The place was definitely more colourful now, you had to admit that. Suna threw his cans and yours in his backpack and walked back to his car, hand in hand with yours.

He unlocked his door only and threw his backpack in the back as you waited for him to unlock your door so you could get it, but it seemed like he had other plans on how to end the night.

He walked around the car and reached to you, caging you between him and the car, arms on each side of your head.

“What are you doing?” you huffed.

He leaned down and licked the shell of your ear. “Just rewarding my princess for helping me tonight.” he whispered before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

Taking a hold of your shoulders, he moved you onto the hood of his car, bending you down against it. His hand moved from your shoulders to down your spine before finally squeezing your ass through your thin leggings.

“Been so good to me tonight, think you deserve a reward” he gave your ass a light squeeze.

“Y-yeah Rin, please.” it was crazy how that man managed to always make you forget how to talk.

As he knelt down on the concrete, he didn’t care about how you didn’t address him properly, he didn’t care about the little rocks that were digging in his knees through his sweatpants, all he cared about was making you feel good. He pulled down your leggings and panties, down enough for him to have a proper look at your already drenched pussy. He hummed to himself and thanked God, the Universe or whatever divine entity that was the reason for you to be in his life.

He didn’t waste any time and brought a finger to your already gaping hole, playing with it as he watched in awe at how much wetter you were getting from his ministrations.

“My little slut is getting turned on because she’s gonna get fucked in public?” he spoke “You’re so messy, princess, wish you could see this yourself.”

“Ah-” you jolted as you felt a finger penetrate you, “don’t tease me, daddy.”

“ ‘m not teasing, doll, you’re just eager.”

He removed the finger that was just in you and brought it to his mouth, sucking and licking at your juices that stuck to it.

“You always taste so good. Gonna let me have another taste, baby? Gonna let me eat your pretty cunny out in public?”

You whimpered. “Yes, yes yes, daddy please, wanna feel your mouth on me.” the cold metal of the hood started feeling really hot under your burning cheek.

“Whatever princess wants, princess gets.”

Suna gave a lick with a flat tongue to your labia, gathering your wetness in his mouth before wrapping his lips around your clit. His tongue switched from playing with your little bundle of nerve to licking your hole. The stimulation drove you crazy, you could feel yourself become closer at every flick of his tongue on your clit. He suddenly removed his mouth from your pussy and switched his tongue for his fingers. The sensation made you squeal from surprise. Three of his fingers were now filling your hole while his thumb took care of stimulating your hardened clit.

“Gonna try something, doll, alright?”

Too busy chasing your high, you nodded eagerly. You had no idea what he was saying, the only information you picked on from his voice was that he asked you a question and you trusted Suna with all your heart. That’s why your whole body jolted when you felt a finger press against the ring of your asshole.

“Rin!”

“Shh, focus on how good I’m making you feel. Can feel you clenching around my fingers, puppy, this is gonna make you feel even better.”

He spat against your hole and allowed the tip of his finger to go past the rim. The sensation was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before but you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. You only were closer to your climax when you felt his finger try to go deeper.

“Fuck! Daddy!” you screamed as you gushed around his three digits.

“That’s a good girl, fuck.” Suna praised. “Fuck, you never came so hard. I knew that you were a slut but I didn’t know you were such a dirty one.” he teased as he let you ride out your orgasm. “Just need a finger in your other hole to make you squirt, uh?” his dirty words made you whine in protestation, you didn’t even know you could cum like that.

You pushed his hand away when the rubbing against your clit made you feel too overstimulated.

“Stop it daddy… ‘s too much.”

He got up and manhandled you onto your back.

“I know baby, just need to feel you cum around my cock now. Can you do that for me? Gonna be a good doll and squirt on my cock? Promise this will be all for tonight.”

You nodded weakly, still trying to get over the aftershock of the powerful orgasm you just had. He grinned at you and leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a small taste of yourself on your lips. His hands reached down for the hoodie you were wearing and the shirt underneath it, he pulled both up enough to have a view on your pretty tits.

“Knew you were not wearing a bra.” he gave a playful pinch to your nipples.

You whined and pushed his hands away before reaching down to the band of his sweatpants to remind him of what he was supposed to do with you.

“You’re so impatient, princess, you’re lucky I love you” he mumbled.

Your heart warmed up at his words, they were like a little reminder that you were his and he was yours. “I love you too, daddy.”

He completely took your legging off and pulled his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs. His cock was hard and red, the mere sight of it was enough to make you drool. Bringing a hand around its base, Suna started to run his tip over your puffy clit, allowing his cock to be coated of your wetness.

“You’re so shamelessly messy, puppy.” he moaned as he put the tip in, “and so fucking tight. God, no matter how many times I fuck you- you were made to take my cock, right doll? No one else’s.”

“Hmm- Only yours daddy! ‘Was made to only take you”

He groaned as he bottomed out, the wetness of your previous orgasm making it so much easier. Remembering how hard you came earlier, he started fucking you harder with the only goal in mind to make you gush as hard as he just did. The tip of his cock was kissing your cervix and reaching that one spongy spot only him could reach. You were seeing stars- figuratively and literally.

“Daddy you’re so deep” you moaned.

“I know baby, but you love it right? You love having me this deep. Say it.”

“I love it daddy! No one- no one else can fuck me like you do.”

Satisfied with your answer, Suna didn’t take mercy on you and started pounding harder into your gummy walls. Feeling you clench around him, he spat on your hardened clit and started toying with it with his thumb, just like you liked. The added stimulation only heightened your senses. You could feel everything, from the way his thumb was rubbing circles around your clit to the hard vein on his cock that felt painfully good every time he thrusted into you. Before you knew it, your orgasm started building up in you much more powerful than the one you previously had.

“Da- Daddy ‘m gonna make a mess again.”

“Yeah? Gonna gush around me? Come on pretty I know you can do it, gonna make your pretty little cunny cum.”

His other hand started toying with your hard nipple and that pushed you over the edge, cunt spasming around him and juices squirting on his old black hoodie, you came on the hood of your boyfriend’s old car. You moans were nothing compared to the grunts and groan that left Suna’s mouth, he seemed to be enjoying this more than you did.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” a few more thrust inside your walls were enough for him to spill his load into you.

He leaned down on you and hugged you, chest pressed against yours. You two stayed like that for a second, in a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, he pulled out of you with a wince as he saw his cum spill out of your hole. He was quick to pick up your leggings and panties and helped you put them back on.

“Don’t waste precious cum.” he said as you pulled your leggings up.

“Maybe if you stopped fucking me raw-”

“Shh, you love it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple and opened the car door for you.

“Get in, we’re getting food.”

You excitedly clapped your hands, ready to spend some more time with him.

“And then we’re going back to my house, really gotta make you squirt again.”

“You’re a fucking perv, Suna Rintarou.”

“You’re in love with this perv.”

You smiled, because that was the complete truth.

na: sorry for the rushed ending im exhausted </3 

[poguestvff]

Used To The Cold — S. Cameron

In which Sarah Cameron comes to a realization after her girlfriend moves across the country.

taglist | main masterlist | 2.0k words

warning(s): none, fluff, i heart sarah <33

Have you ever lost something that held either so many memories or brought a sort of happiness that just warmed you immediately even at the sight of it? Most people have something like that. Such as for children when it comes to losing stuffed animals or action figures that were a source of comfort, they missed it like hell. Said children grow up and look for a new source of comfort. Some teenagers found it in weed and alchohol, others in sports. For Sarah Cameron, she grew out of the beautiful pink blanket her father had gotten her as a toddler. As she grew into a teenager, she found a new solace.

Her girlfriend.

Sarah made it very apparent to show her love to her girlfriend who, at one point, was just her best friend who she could hardly even bare to be away from. Sarah had known she'd loved Y/n before they even got together by the way Sarah had never felt claustrophobic in the friendship that she held with the other girl. She said the three words within the first six months of being with her, words she had never spoken to another being other than her family. It was a word she, personally, took seriously. For her to say it to Y/n showed the amount of trust she held within her. Trust to not feel so closed off with Y/n.

At the beginning of the relationship, Sarah was glad that not much had changed between the two of them. That Y/n let her have her space whenever she needed it without the dependent need to be together all day though it quickly became backwards. Sarah grew even more clingy to Y/n, hardly able to deal without her hands being stuck to her girlfriend like glue. Whenever they went out to lunch, Sarah played a one sided game of footsies that only brought a smile upon Y/n’s features, one of Sarah’s favorite traits about her. Sarah loved the idea of always having a person to call her own, Y/n seeming to be the one person who could bring out her newfound touchiness. Though, sometimes she pondered on whether Y/n herself was even handling it or if she just ‘put up’ with it. If she did have an indifference towards Sarah’s actions, she surely never showed her disinterest in it.

Though the last time Sarah had held on to her girlfriend felt soul crushing and gut wrenching. As the two of them stood on the creaky, wooden dock just before the ferry, Sarah felt drained. Between the amount of crying she’d done in just the past few days had been enough to make her want to sleep forever and the comfort of her girlfriends arms around her hadn’t helped that feeling. Tears held a steady stream down both of their faces though Sarah was the one who was unable to contain her sobs. People passed around them, solemn looks given to the two of them as they listened in on the sniffles and soft wails.

Y/n didn’t need to be a genius to understand that this was twice as hard for Sarah as it would be for her. Y/n was leaving, miles away that Sarah couldn’t even pin on when the next time she’d being able to hold on to her would be. All she knew was that this embrace that Y/n held on her would be the last one for months and there wasn’t a thing that would be able to make up for it between now and then.

It evoked an indescribable sort of fear within Sarah but she knew it was immutable. If Sarah could, she'd even drop her whole life within Outer Banks to follow her girlfriend across the world. There wasn't much Sarah wouldn't do and there wasn't much Y/n wouldn't do for Sarah either, including the moving date having already been pushed back a month because of Y/n's several arguments with her parents.

"I don't want you to go." sarah whispered as y/n kissed her neck. She could hear the blonde's pained and wavering voice, how affected she already was even as Y/n hadn't even stood on the boat yet.

"I know, lover." the y/h/c girl spoke in a low tone, only sarah able to hear her words of affirmation. Y/n was first to pull back, placing her hands on Sarah's cheeks. The sight of Sarah with puffy eyes and a quivering lip made y/n's heart throb and a guilty feeling blanket over her like a raising tide. "i'll visit. Every chance I get, you know I will."

"It won't be the same." she lamented. Y/n placed her lips against Sarah’s, delicately as if the blonde were made of porcelain. When Y/n's parents had called for her and Ward and Rose had called Sarah away from the dock, Sarah only seemed to want to cling further, fingers pressing further into the thin jacket Y/n worse, but their time had finally run out. Even after weeks of pretending that they had all the time in the world, like nothing could pull the two of them apart, it had happened.

The first few weeks, the whole Cameron house had known Sarah spent most of her nights crying herself to sleep and the entire Y/l/n house knew Y/n was not going to be speaking to them for a little while due to their newest decision. Both groups of parents hadn't known that pulling the duo away from one another would become such a quagmire for each of them.

When Y/n did finally decide to talk to her parents, it was usually to say she was leaving to explore the area in which she refused to get to know the first few days. With a driver license, it gave her just a bit of freedom from her parents who's impromptu decisions had still caused for a tearing in their familial relationship.

Y/n sat in her parked car, a hot beverage in hand to adjust to the cold in which she'd just stood in for five minutes. All of it for a drink that wasn't even that good in her opinion but she dealt with it. With the hand not holding the steaming drink, she opened her phone, smiling immediately at the photo of her and sarah as her background. She unlocked it, scrolling around to find Sarah's contact and setting her phone up against the dashboard. While it began to ring, Y/n situated herself to begin to drive. "Hi, Y/n/n!" Sarah shouted excitedly the second she'd answered.

At her tone of voice did Y/n laugh. The enthusiasm was no surprise but it was funny to Y/n every time. "Hi, baby." She replied, fhe smile remaining on her face as she looked towards the screen. Sarah sat at her desk, her hands under her jaw though a pencil between her fingers. She had focused all of her attention from the papers in front of her to the driver on the other end of the phone. "What are you doing?"

The sound of whizzing paper had made Y/n glance to the phone seeing a math sheet now replacing Sarah's face before she placed it back down, a frown appearing on her features. "Math."

"Didn't you just start like two days ago?" Y/n asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"Yes and this teacher is an absolute bitch. You're just lucky you don't start for another week. You would hate Mr. Henley."

Y/n let out an awfully dramatic gasp. "Um, hello, Mr. Henley was literally my home room teacher last year, I'll have you know. Show some respect." She said, almost missing Sarah's chagrined look as she smiled.

"You're supposed to be on my side here."

"Sorry, i don't believe in biases, Sar." She joked for sarah to let out a small snicker.

"So tell me, how's minnesota?" Sarah asked, trying to spark up a conversation even if the distance was the same thing she wanted to keep her mind off of.

"Oh, it's so great. So many hot people." she remarked.

"You're not funny, no one has ever found you funny." Sarah replied though unable to hold in her laugh along with her girlfriend. "I'm serious. we haven't talked much about it and i don't want to like... avoid your new life now."

Y/n sighed, looking towards the phone to see Sarah looking back down at her work in front of her. "Fine. Well, it doesn't particularly suck. The no surfing part definitely does, though, but what can you do. And the coffee here... no, its just so bad, babe. granted, i only had one, and it's in my cup holder right now but it's gross."

"My coffee making is better, right?" Sarah asked as Y/n gave a hefty nod.

"So much better, even if it is the only thing you're good at making." Y/n laughed and Sarah attempted to refuse a smile, her cheeks quivering from trying to keep it down. "But the weather dropped today, randomly. It was seventy yesterday, fifty today but i think i'm getting used to the cold."

Sarah lifted her head back to the phone, watching Y/n focus on driving, her eyes diverting on places away from the screen. Sarah but at her inner cheek, drumming her fingers against the white wood that rested under her forearms. "Used to it?" Sarah asked. She knew Y/n's move was permanent at least until she was eighteen but something about those words made it seem more realistic. She was getting used to a place that wasn't home.

Y/n hummed. "Yeah, i'm probably being dramatic. I saw a guy walking around in a tank top and shorts while i'm wearing double pair of socks right now." she grinned at her own comment though picking up on Sarah's sudden discomfort when she replied with a small 'wow'. "Lover?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, the car slowing to a stop at a red light.

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... the work. Keep your eye on the road."

"Sarah." The blond recognized the tone of voice quickly.

"Just... I just fully realized how permanent this is. I won't see you until, what? December? That's a long time, Y/n! And, i get it, it's your home now and i can't do anything about it but—"

Y/n was quick to cut her off. "I never said this is home. Sure I live here but it's just a couple walls and a roof. It's not home, Sarah." Y/n began. "Home is you. And trust me, i've been missing home the second i got on that ferry."

Despite them having to look at one another through a glass screen the feeling—the connection between the two of them was still felt. Sarah could feel the normal warm feeling she would've gotten whenever Y/n would simply hold her hand or brush her hair over her ear. she held that much of an effect on Sarah in person and somehow even thousands of miles away.

Sarah hadn't even realized she had been staring for a total of twenty seconds until a singular tear fell down her blushing cheeks. she quickly sniffled, recomposing herself as she wiped it away. "Are you seriously making me cry right now?" She muttered with the way the atmosphere had become though relishing in the way Y/n laughed in response.

"Yes, thank you for ignoring everything i just said, lover." Y/n put the car back in drive as the light went green. Due to the steets being relatively empty in her new small town, she took the time to look back over at the phone to Sarah. "I love you."

Sarah's smile widened in thag very moment, pursing her lips before pushing them out. "I love you more."

"And don't worry. I won't get to used to it. I'll be back home, to you, before you even know it." Y/n took a small glance to the phone, enjoying Sarah's gaze that showed even with the distance put between the two of them, they'd be fine.

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 27- Think Fast

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warnings for alcohol and recreational drug use

Masterlist

Hawks watches somewhat apprehensively as you put solo cups, mixers, and multiple handles of hard liquor out on your counter. “You look more terrified right now than I’ve ever seen you before facing a villain,” you point out. “I trained my whole life to fight villains. This is new. How many people did you invite?” He asks incredulously. “Just the Baddies,” you shrug. “All this is for just seven people?” “Technically all this and more, Kacchan’s bringing beer and Mina’s bringing white claws. Don’t worry we won’t finish it all!” you assure him before briefly pausing. “We probably won’t finish it all,” you correct yourself. At seeing the continued hesitation in Hawks’ face you stop your preparations for a moment and turn to him. “Hey I can call this whole thing off if you want,” you offer, but he shakes his head. “No, no don’t do that. Beneath the nerves I’m excited I promise. Plus what would people think if the great Hawks chickened out of a simple little party?” “I’m more worried about Keigo right now than Hawks.” “Keigo will also be fine.” “Ok, but you are more than welcome to stop drinking whenever. We won’t pressure you to get drunk if you don’t want to.” “I am older than you, yknow. You don’t have to baby me.” “Older yes but I, dear Keigo, am the more experienced and wiser one here.” “Well then, oh wise one, why don’t you show me the proper way to take tequila shots.” “I’ll grab the limes.”

You and Keigo might have gotten the tiniest bit carried away with your pregame so by the time the rest of your friends come knocking at your door you’ve already got a buzz going. As you swing the door open Denki and Mina are grinning back at you, Denki with an impressive bag of weed and Mina with the promised white claws, as the other three wave from behind them. “Let’s get fucking plus ultra in this bitch!” Mina yells and the rest of you reply with similar enthusiasm as you usher everyone inside. “Hawks and I already started so you guys have to catch up,” you tell them as you unlock your phone and toss it to Kirishima to pick the music.

At the start of the night you made a point to stick close to Keigo so he’d always have a familiar face to rely on if he got overwhelmed or didn’t feel like talking anymore, but as the drinks kept flowing you were delighted to find he seemed to be doing just fine on his own. In fact, Denki genuinely seemed keen on getting to know him more and the rest of your friends were just as welcoming. Soon it felt just like any of you all’s usual hangs and it wasn’t much longer after that that everyone was properly drunk. Soon Mina had somehow convinced Bakugo and Kirishima to back her up in an impromptu round of karaoke while Shinso and Hawks watched on from the sidelines. Denki sidles up next to you, throwing one arm around your shoulder while holding a perfectly rolled joint in his free hand. “Shall we head to the balcony?” he asks with a grin. You throw one more glance Hawks’ way to double check he’s doing well and when you see him burst into laughter as Bakugo and Mina fight over something inane, you feel something warm spark in your chest. “We shall,” you confirm before letting him guide you over to the glass door and opening it with a flourish.

There’s a chill in the air but the alcohol flowing through your veins means you barely feel it as you step onto the balcony and lean across the railing, Denki joining you as he pulls a lighter from his pocket. He places the joint in his mouth and then lights it with the kind of ease that comes from experience before taking a large hit and passing it to you. The two of you pass the joint back and forth a few times before Denki finally speaks up. “So how’s the little arrangement going so far?” he asks. “Better than expected to be honest.” “Have you guys talked about what happened yet?” “Not explicitly. He told me... a lot... about his past so I kinda get it now? but not about the night it went to shit.” Denki hums in acknowledgment. “How are you doing in general after everything that happened?” he asks. “I’m fine Denki.” “(Y/n)...” “I mean it. Don’t worry about little ol me.” “I’ll always worry about you.” “And I, you. Now stop killing the vibe. This is supposed to be a party remember?” Denki laughs at that as you move to sit on the railing of the balcony.

Keigo has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised by how tonight is going. He had worried about dropping into the middle of your friend group and spending the whole night feeling like an intruder but instead all of you have welcomed him with open arms in spite of everything. Between that and the alcohol he’s feeling more uninhibited now than he ever has his entire life. “I should’ve done this sooner,” he declares as he takes another sip from his solo cup. Next to him Shinso laughs, “damn right you should’ve.”

“Hey Kacchan!!” he suddenly hears you call. When he looks over he notices you sitting on the railing of the balcony. That can’t be safe, you have to be at least as drunk as he is and the joint you’d been sharing with Denki has burned pretty low so you’re definitely high too. “Think fast!” you shout and then you’re letting go and leaning backwards until you’re falling, the bright grin on your face never faltering. The blood in Hawks’ veins runs cold as he watches you disappear from sight. The muscles in his back twitch on instinct but barely any of his feathers have grown back yet so he. can’t. save. you. He can’t save you and he’s starting to panic when he notices Bakugo launching himself over the railing, the sound of explosions loud in the quiet night. Hawks jumps as he feels a hand land on his shoulder and turns to find Shinso giving him a reassuring smile. “Sorry should’ve warned you. She does that a lot, especially when she’s drunk,” Shinso tells him. “What? Falls off buildings?” “Yea pretty much.” “What?” “It’s a trust thing. The first time she did it was to prove a point. She knew he’d catch her. Now I think she just likes the feeling of falling while crossed.”

Bakugo reappears over the balcony with you giggling on his back completely unharmed and Hawks releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “That’s a lot of trust. When’d she start doing that?” Hawks asks. “I’m actually not sure,” Shinso replies, “yo Mina!” “What?” “What year did (y/n) start the whole ‘think fast’ thing? Second or third?” Mina walks over to join the conversation, plopping down next to Shinso. “Uhh I think it was third year after they started dating” she says. Shinso shoots her a look and elbows her but it’s too late. “They dated?” Hawks asks. Mina’s eyes widen in realization but it’s too late to take it back so she instead says “I’m gonna get more to drink!” and jets back off to the kitchen. Shinso rolls his eyes. “Yea, they did. In the end they decided they were better off as friends though, especially because Bakugo was a lot less mature then.” “That’s why she gets away with calling him Kacchan.” “Yea, probably. That was years ago now though, I don’t think anything’s happened between them since. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Shinso assures him before excusing himself to go talk to Denki.

Hawks knows it’s not his place but he can’t help but feel jealous now watching you tease Bakugo about getting slower as he lectures you on being an idiot. “I’m not an idiot!” you pout. “What else would you call someone that intentionally falls off a building?” he seethes. “Was there any chance you would have let me hit the ground?” “Obviously not, dumbass.” “Well there you go! Perfectly safe!” Bakugo sputters, his cheeks reddening, before finally grumbling “I’m getting another drink,” before walking away. This only makes you laugh harder. “Love you Kacchan,” you tease after him. “Fuck you!” he shouts back.

He’s one of your best friends. He’s one of your best friends. He’s one of your best friends. The phrase plays on a loop in Keigo’s head in a desperate attempt to quash the jealousy burning through his chest but he can’t help it. How long had the two of you dated? “Longer than the two of you did,” his brain unhelpfully supplies. His thoughts are interrupted when Kirishima drops down next to him with two beer cans in hand. “You look like you’re pretty deep in your head and (y/n) would kill me if I let you stay that way. Ever shotgunned a beer before?” Kirishima asks. “I didn’t realize I was that easy to read,” Hawks says as he takes one of the offered beers. “Typically you’re not. Watching you in action? You’re totally inscrutable dude, it’s super manly! But when you’re with friends you shouldn’t have to worry about that. Anyway, let’s not talk heavy shit man, am I teaching you to shotgun or not?” “Fuck it, why not.” “That’s the spirit!”

The party eventually reaches its natural conclusion as exhaustion starts to overtake even the effects of alcohol. Not to mention, your friends are keenly aware that unlike you and Hawks they actually have to get up and be out for work tomorrow. Hawks isn’t surprised when you give each of your friends a tight hug goodbye. He is surprised when the same offer is extended to him. It’s almost scary how perceptive your friends can be. When Mina’s hands get a little too close to where his wings should be he can’t help but flinch and immediately she adjusts. The rest of your friends make a point to avoid the area. Bakugo and Kirishima are the last to leave and it takes everything in Hawks not to let his jealousy show as you hug Bakugo goodbye. He’s once again shocked when Bakugo goes to hug him but he soon realizes that it’s not necessarily done to be friendly. “Take good fucking care of her bird brain. Cause if you don’t? I will,” he whispers harshly. As the two pull away from each other their eyes lock in a silent challenge until Kirishima calls from the hallway “Bakubro let’s go! Taxi’s here!” “I’m coming Shitty Hair relax!” he shouts back before finally breaking eye contact and heading out the door with one final wave in your direction.

Author’s Note: The party was honestly pretty built around the “think fast” scene. Once that idea came to mind it refused to leave. The Bakugo stuff well 👀 what can I say I like ✨drama✨ also I felt a little bad that Bird Boy stole the fic I was gonna write for Bakugo from him. Originally I was gonna have Hawks’ jealousy be unfounded but then I saw an opportunity and decided to run with it oops

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @a-fucking-sero-kinnie @ladyzayismultifandom

[cakesunflower]

Outer Banks Series Rewrite/JJ Maybank Fic Series [5. Midsummers]

Disclaimer: None of the characters (except for Stella) or their dialogues (for the most part) are my own, and belong to the writers & creators of Outer Banks!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read on AO3!

Here’s episode 5 “Midsummers”!

“Dude—Mom catches you out here, and you’re dead.” Stella peeked one eye open, catching sight of her sister standing over her, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised. “You’re literally out in the open.”

Kie’s concern came from the pen Stella was currently twirling between her fingers as she lay on the ground in their backyard. Stella didn’t say anything, instead took another pull from the pen, letting the familiar smoke invade her lungs before blowing it out slowly. The act did its job in calming her down, and Kiara let out a sigh before shifting to sit down next to Stella, before going down on her back, too.

Stella could feel her sister’s gaze on her as Kie turned her head to look at her, but Stella kept her gaze up at the sky. It was sort of cloudy, but there wasn’t a threat for rain. If there had been, the celebration later tonight would’ve been rescheduled ages ago.

“Look, I know you’re worried about JJ—” Kie began, but Stella cut her off.

“He willingly let himself get arrested for something he didn’t do, and he has a drug-addict, abusive dad to go back home to. We haven’t heard from him yet.” Stella looked at Kie, then, jaw hard. “Of course I’m worried.”

Kie’s gaze was soft with sympathy, but Stella could see her own concern swimming, too. After all, Kie cared about JJ as well. Maybe not in the way Stella did, but just as good. “He’ll turn up,” Kie assured. “He always does.”

Despite Kie’s efforts, Stella wasn’t all that comforted. And maybe Kie saw the deep worry that had etched itself into Stella’s features, because Kie’s face softened even more, looking at her sister gently as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Stella’s throat worked as her heart drummed in her chest, forcing herself into a sitting position while Kie kept on her back, looking up at her. For a moment, Stella hesitantly chewed on her lower lip, wondering if now was the right time to indulge, but it was Kie. It was her sister, and if Stella couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I kissed.” There. She said it. Now it was out in the open.

Kie blinked once before her eyes widened almost comically, shooting up in a sitting position opposite of Stella as she demanded, “What? When?”

“Yesterday,” Stella admitted, stomach flipping as memories of her and JJ’s actions played through her mind like her favorite movie. She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing on her lips. “We were at John B’s, before coming to the summer series.” She fiddled with the pen between her fingers. “It just—it kind of just happened.”

Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “It didn’t kind of just happen,” she mocked. “This has been waiting to happen for so Goddamn long.” Stella tried not to laugh at the happiness shining in Kie’s eyes, which did a lot to relax Stella. She’d been worried Kie would ram on her for breaking one of their friend group rules, but Kie seemed anything but disappointed. Her eyes widened then, shoulders lifting. “Oh, shit, John B and Pope owe me twenty bucks!”

Stella blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Kie snickered, looking all too delighted. “We kind of had a bet going on over how long it’d take for you and JJ to get together.” Stella’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “I bet it’d happen before Midsummers and would you look at that! You just made me forty bucks richer, sis.”

“Wha—” Stella cut herself off with a scoff, ripping up some grass before tossing it at Kie. She shrieked through a laugh, jerking back before brushing away the pieces of grass. “Are you kidding me?! You guys bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Kie responded with a smirk, not at all looking apologetic. At Stella’s gaping expression, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Stel. You two have been dancing around each other for so fucking long. We were getting tired of waiting, so we thought we’d have some fun with it,” she finished with a shrug.

Stella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, cheeks heating up at the information. She wasn’t mad or upset that her sister and friends bet on when she and JJ would get together—she was just surprised, and a little bit amused. She wondered how long the bet had been going on for. But instead of asking that, she instead inquired, “So I’m guessing JJ and I are in the clear for breaking the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

Kie waved her off, smile still in place. “You two are the exception to the rule,” she said confidently before crossing her legs and shooting Stella an expectant look. “So? Tell me how it was.” She quickly held a hand up. “But not too many details because it’s JJ and he’s like my brother and, ew, gross. But I still wanna know! How’d it happen?”

At that, the heat in Stella’s cheeks intensified into a fire as she recalled every single detail from yesterday—as if she could ever forget. “I was, uh, persuading him to come to the summer series with us.”

Kie’s eyebrows shot up. “Persuading, huh?” she repeated with an impish grin, prompting Stella to let out a giggle. “Well, looks like it worked. Not that I’m surprised. That boy is stupid for you.”

Stella pressed her lips together to keep her giddy smile from widening. “Stop.”

Kie snickered. “Man, you two are gonna be unbearable now, aren’t you? All over each other all of the time.”

“Dude, I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Stella instantly responded with a shake of her head. “All we did was kiss. We’re not suddenly together, Kie.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Only a matter of time.”

Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course she wanted to be with JJ—it was all she could think about for so long. After that kiss, it was closer to being a reality than she could ever imagine, but they needed to talk about it, first. “Maybe. But first he needs to let us know he’s okay and that his dad didn’t fucking kill him.”

Her words were tight in her throat as she said them, sending a new jolt of worry through her. JJ never really talked about it, but she knew the kind of man his dad was, knew what he was capable of. JJ getting arrested wasn’t going to go over well; it wouldn’t with any parent, but God only knew how Luke Maybank would react to it. So, yeah, Stella was sick with worry over JJ, and she just fucking wished he’d call or text her back.

Kie sighed. “Listen, maybe—”

Whatever Kie was about to say was interrupted by their mother’s voice shouting at them from the back porch. “Girls! Get in here! You need to start getting ready.” Simultaneously, both Stella and Kie threw their heads back and groaned, loudly—loud enough for Mrs. Carrera to hear them. “I don’t wanna hear it! Get your butts in here now!”

They stood up, and as Stella shoved her pen in the pocket of her shorts, Kie grumbled, “I hate everything.”

While every other soul on Figure Eight either was overjoyed to be attending Midsummers or envious that they couldn’t, Stella and Kiara were probably the only ones who hated the party. For Kie, it was more of a socialist thing that Stella respected her for, but she also knew that her sister’s disgust with Midsummers, ultimately, existed for the same reason as Stella’s: they hated the people they were surrounded by.

All of the Kooks would be gathered tonight for the party—this year a celebration for Ward Cameron, A.K.A the father of Sarah Cameron, Kie’s worst enemy. Stella didn’t care what the party was for—she despised it. The most Stella liked to dress up was in clothes of her choice, and sure that could sometimes include make-up and dresses, but not full on evening gowns with flowers in her hair. It often felt like she was getting dressed up as a lamb for a slaughter, being pushed into a crowd of Kooks who thought they were better than everyone else because of their overflowing pockets. The adults were bad enough—Stella did not want to even see the people her age.

Namely Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and anyone who was associated with them. Especially after what they did to JJ and Pope yesterday. Dicks.

But Midsummers, much to both Stella and Kie’s chagrin, was important to their parents, especially their mother. So as soon as the two girls returned inside the house, Mrs. Carrera was ushering them towards the bathrooms, like they were toddlers who needed supervised bath times.

“Hold on a second—” Mr. Carrera paused, and Stella and Kie exchanged looks when their mom sniffed the air around them. Her eyes then zeroed in on Stella, hands on her hips and eyes blazing as she demanded, “Did you just smoke, Stella?”

Knowing there was no point in lying, Stella huffed. “I needed something to take the edge off if I have to go to this stupid party.”

This wasn’t the first time their mom caught them smoking or smelling of weed, but it pissed her off just the same. While Kie tried to stifle a smile, Mrs. Carrera glared daggers at her Stella. “You’re not getting out of this, Stella. You better drown yourself in body wash and perfume when you get ready.”

Stella rolled her eyes behind her mom’s back, but listened all the same, albeit reluctantly. Kie was the first to hop into the shower in their shared bathroom, so Stella took the time to lay in her bed and unlock her phone, hoping to see a text or missed call from JJ. Her heart jumped when she saw just one text from him, chest tight as she read it quickly.

JJ: Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’ll see u later.

That was it. Just ten words of reassurance and then nothing. Part of Stella was relieved to have received anything from him at all, but another part still felt worried and a little annoyed. She—all of them—had been worried sick over him after yesterday, and this was all he could say? Stella figured she shouldn’t be too surprised. It was typical JJ behavior. He got in a bind and somehow got himself out of it, and never really let his friends in on if anything was wrong. But the tough guy persona could only get him so far.

Chewing on her lower lip, Stella drafted a text, but not to JJ. Instead, she sent a message to John B.

Stella: You heard from JJ? Do you think he’s okay?

John B responded within moments.

John B: Yeah, it’s all good. I’m with him right now. We’ll see you guys tonight, alright? Keep an eye out.

Stella blinked at the cryptic message, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But if recent circumstances were any indicator, something was probably going down tonight. Stella’s stomach flipped in both apprehension and excitement. These boys might be the death of her.

Soon enough, Kie was out of the bathroom and it was Stella’s turn. She showered and brushed her teeth, stepping back into her room to catch sight of a satin slip dress with a halter neck waiting for her on her bed. It was a pretty golden color with a V-neck trimmed with lace, and a pair of white and gold sandals were waiting by the bed, too. Stella huffed, the towel wrapped tightly around her. She knew for a fact that her mother thought she needed to have everything out for her otherwise Stella would be useless in getting dressed for Midsummers. It was kind of insulting.

Stella expertly dried her hair, letting the natural curls come into place, before doing her makeup. She kept it light, as always, because not even Midsummers was going to make her slap on a face full of makeup, especially in the middle of summer. Some foundation, mascara, highlighter, and lipstick was as far as she went, with her jewelry consisting of a dainty diamond star necklace and the rings on her fingers.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” Mrs. Carrera said upon entering her room. “Come on, let me do your hair.”

Stella frowned but listened, sitting down in front of her dresser while her mom stood behind her. She worked quickly and efficiently, braiding back the two front locks of her hair and intertwining small yellow flowers in them that Stella tried not to wrinkle her nose at.

As her mom worked, Kie wandered into Stella’s room. Her slip dress was spaghetti strapped and a lavender color, a couple of layered necklaces around her neck, and her hair down in an updo with a crown of pink and purple flowers and locks of curly hair framing her face. She looked stunning, even with that scowl she wore as she stormed into the room.

“This is disgusting,” she announced without preamble.

Mrs. Carrera wove another flower into Stella’s braid, her voice dry above her as she responded, “I know. It’s just horrible. I’m asking you two to relax and go to a fun party.”

Kie scoffed, towering over their mom. They may be twins, but Kie somehow got the tall gene from their dad, standing at the elegant 5’8”, while Stella hadn’t grown past 5’5”. “We look like bourgeoisie pigs.”

Stella tried to keep the snort from escaping, covering it up with a cough as their mom finally patted down Stella’s hair, letting out a satisfied hum before stepping back. She shot Kie an exasperated look and said, “Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?”

Kie scowled and Stella’s face scrunched up. This was so much more than that. She twisted around in the seat and stood up, crossing her arms and siding with Kie, “Mom, people not three miles from here have no power, no running water—and we’re going to Midsummers.”

Kie nodded vigorously, gesturing to Stella. “That’s so tone deaf.”

Mrs. Carrera huffed, picking up the little pouch she’d dropped on the dressing table and pulling out the diamond earrings. As she put one in, she said, “Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island Club?”

Both Stella and Kie rolled their eyes, having heard this a hundred times before. “Yeah, Mom, how could we forget?” Stella sighed. “You had to grovel for, like, ten years—”

“Twelve,” Mrs. Carrera corrected, “and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough, and do you know why we did that?”

Kie wasn’t impressed. “To keep up with the Joneses?”

Mrs. Carrera’s hands were on her hips, looking at her daughter pointedly. “No. So you two could have the experiences that I had as a child. Sweethearts, do you know what the Island Club is?”

“A factory farm for debutantes,” Kie flatly said at the same time Stella said, “Where brain cells go to die.”

Kie gave her a subtle fist bump as their mother glared at them before smiling exasperatedly. She placed one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at both of them as she said, “It is a nice place, with nice people, where you can do fun stuff.”

Neither of them bought the company line. “With out of touch rich people,” Stella added.

Kie rightfully finished, “While the island sinks slowly into the ocean.”

Their mom dropped her hands from their cheeks, stepping back and shooting them a look. Clearly, she was done trying with her stubborn daughters. “Okay, I want you two to put on your party faces if you wanna live,” she said before walking out of the room.

Both Stella and Kie sighed, looking at each other in resigned defeat. Stella picked up her pen, offering a half hearted smile. “Wanna take a hit before we go?”

Kie scoffed, taking it from her. “Or maybe ten.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the girls were at the Island Club with their parents, and instead of doing the polite thing and greeting the other party goers, Stella spotted a familiar face and grabbed Kie’s hand, jerking her chin to where Pope was working out on the lawn at the grill. She’d almost forgotten that he was working the party with his dad. Thank God for small miracles.

As they approached him, his back to the girls, Kie startled Stella by speaking in a terrible British accent, “Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Pope swiveled around as Kie grinned and Stella shook her head in bemusement. “’Cause it might mess up my costume.”

Pope chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked and Stella stepped forward with a laugh, slapping her hand against his, front and back, before ending with a snap of her fingers. Their handshake. As he repeated the act with Kie, Pope added, “That accent was bad.”

Kie nodded. “It was. I was gonna let it go.”

Stella scoffed. “I wish you had,” she said as they came to stand next to Pope, arms folded across her chest. The three of them observed the scene before them, of all the guests gathered around in their fancy dresses and suits, drinking from flutes of champagne or drinks from the bar. “You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?”

“Yeah. Last year,” Pope answered.

Kie was squinting against the sun, but just like Stella’s, her brown skin glowed a pretty golden color against it. “We’re in the lion’s den.”

“Exactly.”

Pope glanced at the two of them, gaze lingering on Stella longer as he asked, “Have you heard from JJ?”

Kie shook her head. “No.”

“Just a text,” Stella answered, prompting Kie to look towards her, raising an eyebrow. Stella’s lips pursed. “He said he was okay and not to worry about him. But I won’t really believe it until I see him.”

“He’ll be all right,” Kie said, frowning to herself. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Stella swallowed inaudibly. Kie wasn’t really wrong.

“It’s all my fault,” Pope said, the guilt thick in his tone as he frowned at nothing. He looked like he might be sick over everything that’s happened.

Stella frowned as Kie said, “Uh, you didn’t do this, Pope.”

“Yeah,” Stella chimed in firmly. “Topper almost killed you. Remember?”

He shot her a dry look. “Not something I can forget.”

Stella shot him a small smile. “JJ was just trying to do right by you. He—he knew what he was doing.” She stumbled over her words briefly because, well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed them. She believed that JJ thought he was doing the right thing, but getting arrested was no small thing. He was just adding onto his record, and this time for something he didn’t even do. JJ put loyalty above anything else, and it was one of her favorite things about him—until it landed him in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

Midsummers, as expected, was boring as usual. The adults drank and the teens snuck in their own alcohol in hidden flasks, dancing to the music from the live band while almost everyone kissed Ward Cameron’s ass. Stella stuck by Kie’s side, mostly because she didn’t care for anyone else there and because Kie kept glaring at Sarah Cameron, who looked like the perfect Kook princess. She was missing her not-so-Prince Charming, Topper, who seemed to be sticking by Rafe and Kelce’s sides than with Sarah. Hmm. Interesting.

At one point, Stella excused herself to go to the bathroom, walking inside the country club and down the hall. She did her business, ignoring the giggles of the few other girls inside as she washed her hands. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, however, she let out a gasp and stumbled into the doorframe as a figure rushed off in front of her, her gaze instantly following.

She’d recognize those blonde locks anywhere.

Stella’s heart thundered, gripping the doorframe tightly as she called out, “JJ?”

*****

Despite the severity of needing to find a hiding spot or escape, the sound of Stella’s voice had JJ stopping in his tracks. He turned, catching sight of her down the hall, too far down the hall, looking every bit as breathtaking as he expected her to in a golden dress that hugged her so perfectly. And the way she was looking at him—the surprise and relief and tenderness he was sure she reserved just for him—had JJ’s heart pounding right out of his chest, and not just because he was trying to save himself at the moment.

“Stella—” JJ stopped, looking through the glass of the doors, seeing Rafe, Kelce, and three of their suited up buddies purposefully making their way over. “Shit.” His blue eyes met her concerned brown ones. “Sweetheart, I’ll explain everything later, but I gotta run right now. Just—I’ll see you in a little, okay?”

“Wait, JJ—”

But he didn’t stick around, as much as he wanted to, and instead turned and ran off just as he heard Rafe and his buddies walk in. They’d spotted him talking to Sarah because he’d needed to give her a letter from John B, after he’d spoken to and received a surprising hug from Pope, and now they were hot on his ass looking to throw more punches. JJ’d already received a beating from his dad—he didn’t need anymore, thank you very much.

Except he made his way into the men’s room, and Rafe and his buddies were pretty fast and managed to corner him no problem. Five against one—this was totally fair. Assholes.

Rafe pushed him and JJ grunted, struggling as Kelce came up behind him and locked an arm around the front of his neck, the other keeping his head in place as JJ grabbed at Kelce’s arm to loosen the grip. He struggled, heart pounding, as Rafe looked at his friends. “Hold him still. What—what do you think? A four iron, right?” He mimicked holding a golf club. “Keep his head still. I’m gonna line this up.”

JJ didn’t make it easy for Kelce to keep him still. “Very Rafe of you,” JJ said through gritted teeth. “Five on one?”

Rafe looked pristine in his stupid blue suit and bowtie. JJ hoped he’d choke on it. “If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful. I’m trying to hit a ball.” Oh, fuck no. “Learn your etiquette, my friend.”

JJ kept grunting, struggling against Kelce, using his hands as much as he could to try and get away. JJ’s voice was hoarse against Kelce’s grip as he spat back, “I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” As much fire as there was in his voice, JJ wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Not when the odds were stacked against him.

Rafe smirked sardonically, crouching to look up at JJ with a mocking sort of sympathy. “Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

The insult was grating, especially given that the bruises and cuts on his face were courtesy of his father. JJ couldn’t do much more than spit in Rafe’s face. He jerked back, wiping the saliva off his face as he grinned. “Oh, shit. Alright. It was—”

The lights began flickering. “Gentlemen!” Kelce roughly let go of JJ and pushed him off, prompting the blonde to struggle before he righted himself. The security guard approached them. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue. I just—” JJ cut himself off, his breathing labored as he panted to catch his breath. He looked at the others and JJ ran his fingers through his hair before deciding on a different course of action. One he knew would likely get him out of this. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep!” He waved a finger around. “Call it in, right?” The others looked at him, trying to appear casual and like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Blatant disrespect for private property.”

Rafe clicked his tongue, scratching his ear. “Yeah.”

JJ turned to the guard. “I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir, but these young gentlemen—” He made a show of righting Kelce’s bowtie before he jerked him away.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce said lowly.

JJ continued, “Uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do.” He held his fists up like he was ready to be handcuffed. Again. “Escort me out of here. You got me.”

The guard grabbed his arm. JJ was relieved. “Come on.”

“All right.” JJ looked over his shoulder as the guard pulled him out, looking at the Kooks. “Fix that tie, son,” he said to Kelce before looking at Rafe. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun,” he turned back around.

Rafe took a step forward, his voice smug. “Tell Stella she looks pretty hot for a scarred Pogue.”

Fire erupted in JJ’s veins at Rafe’s comment, a newfound anger rushing through him at the blatant insult from the son of a bitch. JJ didn’t care who they were—nobody talked about Stella like that. Not at all, not in front of him. JJ’s body moved at his own accord, a low growl escaping him as he jerked away from the guard and tried to launch himself at Rafe, consequences be damned of a five against one. The asshole insulted Stella. JJ couldn’t just let him get away with that.

He rushed towards Rafe, only for Kelce to jump in and push him away as the guard came to his back and pulled him away. “Hey! Stop it. Come here! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

But JJ struggled, the urge to bury his fist in Rafe’s face overwhelming after his words. “You think I’m afraid of you, bro?”

The guard pulled him back. “Come on.”

JJ turned and was guided out as Rafe’s voice followed him out of the locker room. “Hey, safe travels back to the cut!”

JJ shouted back, “This ain’t over!”

The guard didn’t let his grip on JJ go as he guided him down the halls and towards the doors, his grip tight as they burst through the doors out onto the patio. “Look, man, I can walk myself!” JJ exclaimed, earning gasps and looks from the guests at him being escorted out. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

The guard didn’t seem to care. “Come on.”

“I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.” He struggled against the guard’s grip before spotting the older gentleman from earlier who had asked JJ for a drink. At this point, JJ didn’t care for the attention he was drawing on himself, stumbling over to where the man stood. “Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that,” he said quickly before grabbing the drink and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

The man gaped at him, the guard apologized before pulling JJ away. Everyone was watching, murmuring, and JJ never had mastered the art of subtlety, so he made a commotion as he was so kindly escorted out. Might as fucking well go out with a bang.

“Let go of him!” JJ turned at the sound of Stella’s voice, standing up on the patio with Kie by her side. Their parents were behind them, quietly telling Stella to stay quiet while her gaze met JJ’s. He stopped, kind of fucking mesmerized by the sight of her. “You can’t just boot him!”

The guard stopped, still holding onto JJ, who was still watching her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“I invited him here,” Stella continued, her voice loud and carrying over the newfound silence amongst the crowd. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn’t seem to give a shit, and JJ kind of fell in love with her all over again.

Next to her, JJ could hear her mom say, “Stella, stop it.”

“No, she’s right,” Kie spoke up, glaring at her parents and then at the guard. “We’re members of this club.”

“Girls, stop it,” Mr. Carrera seemed to be saying to them.

JJ took the opportunity of the guard being distracted to jerk out of his grip and push him, wincing as the man went stumbling into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses that went shattering on the ground. “Sorry about that!” JJ said over the commotion before looking towards the girls. He pointed at them, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, ladies.” His gaze found Pope’s amidst the crowd’s. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll.” He was walking backwards, people making their way for him as they all gaped at him in disbelief and annoyance. JJ looked back at the girls, holding his arm up. “All right, girls, come on.” He gripped his wrist. “Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

His gaze met Stella’s, who was watching him in, what he realized with relief, was amusement. He saw the looks she and Kie exchanged, a silent communication going on between the twins while their parents most definitely murmured warnings at them. And then, much to JJ’s relief, Stella and Kie broke away before running down the stairs.

JJ grinned widely, finally facing John B, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin. “Colonel.”

John B returned the salute JJ offered him. “Captain.”

JJ grinned. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

John B laughed as JJ shouted for the girls, watching as Pope pulled off his apron and handed it to his dad before running towards John B and JJ, all the while Mr. Heyward yelled, “Don’t do this! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

But Pope didn’t listen, instead high fived John B and JJ, before John B ran off ahead and the two of them faced the girls running over, as well. Kie and Pope ran side by side, laughing, and JJ opened his arms so Stella could run into his embrace, and he laughed into her neck as he lifted her off the ground with a spin before setting her down, grasping her hand in his, and following the others as they ran.

“Later, losers!” John B shouted over his shoulder towards the partygoers.

Stella was laughing, the sound brilliant and wonderful in JJ’s ears as Kie cheered while they ran. JJ couldn’t help but laugh as well. It may have been a shitty couple of days, but at least he had his friends.

*****

The fire crackled between them as Stella sat on a log next to JJ. The cicadas were chirping against the otherwise quiet of the night, and JJ had changed out of the waiter get up and was back in his signature hat, shirt, and shorts combo. The sight of the shark tooth necklace Stella had gifted him around his neck always made her chest tighten in the best way. She and Kie were still in their Midsummers dresses, but mosquitos and bugs never bothered Stella, so she sat comfortably as the fire warmed them.

She kept looking towards JJ, though—at the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight of him injured tightened her chest uncomfortably, made her stomach twist nauseatingly. No doubt his dad had done this to him, and it enraged her. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she could get him as far away from his dad as possible. It hurt, so badly, to see JJ injured at the hands of his abusive father. JJ, despite what others may see as faults and flaws, was probably the best person she knew. He had such a big heart, a soul that deserved to be loved and protected instead of stepped on and beaten. She desperately wished she could protect him from the cruelty of others. He deserved someone to do that for him.

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me,” Pope said as he and John B dropped some sticks to feed the fire before sitting down. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

Stella watched as John B looked at JJ, pointing at him as if he needed permission. JJ nodded. “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.”

John B smiled like he held some kind of secret. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at Kie and Stella.

The two girls nodded impatiently. “Yeah.”

The fire glowed against John B’s skin as he looked at all of them. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

Stella blinked as Pope groaned. “Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.”

Next to her, JJ sat up, holding out a calming hand to Pope. “No, all right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Pope and the girls.

John B had a finger to his lips before continuing, “It’s been here this whole time.” He looked to Kie. “It’s on the island.”

Her expression was one of shocked disbelief. “Are you serious?” She looked at John B before laughing in astonishment. “Oh, my God.”

Pope held up a hand. “I’d like to voice my skepticism.”

Stella was still trying to wrap her head around what John B said as he stood up. “I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Proceed.”

John B held up a piece of paper he pulled out from his bag, proceeding to tell them about a letter he had from Denmark Tanny, a slave who had survived the wreck of the Royal Merchant. He showed it to Pope and the girls, telling them that the slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but that his dad found the complete manifest—his big discovery. Stella listened attentively, mouth agape, looking towards JJ who nodded with a smile on his face. He knew all of this already, it seemed. It was probably why he and John B had been together earlier.

“So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom,” John B was saying. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is,” he paused dramatically as the group of them slapped their knees with their hands. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

Kie stopped. “Tannyhill?”

John B nodded, standing like a professor giving a lecture. “Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

John B had Stella’s attention as she hung onto his every word, shaking her head as she asked, “Where?”

John B grinned. “Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water.” He held up a hand. “Except, there is no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” He walked over to Pope, pointing at something in the paper Pope was holding. Stella leaned over to look as well. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.”

Kie laughed in disbelief as Pope murmured, “Holy shit.”

John B slapped his arm. “All we need is an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.”

He was grinning widely as JJ stood up. Pope slowly started, “Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.”

Kie bounced excitedly where she sat. “Dude, it’s like King Tut!” she exclaimed, earning a laugh from Stella.

“I am a genius,” John B announced, just as JJ tackled him into a hug. “Hey, whoa!” They teetered slightly where they stood before JJ lifted John B up. “Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.”

JJ pulled away and Stella snickered as he said, “I’m so proud of you right now.”

John B nodded somberly. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

With a shake of her head, Stella interrupted the moment by asking, “Okay, so, guys.” They all looked towards her. “What’s the plan?”

John B pointed at her as JJ made his way back. “Good question. Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring the original survey map—”

JJ sat down next to Stella just as her eyes widened, gaping at John B before her gaze instantly shot to Kie, who was frowning. “Hold on,” she interrupted. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

Stella tensed, looking between a bewildered Kie and a hesitant John B. She and Pope exchanged glances, both of them suddenly aware of the tension building in the open space. “Um—” John B trailed off.

JJ took off his head, muttering, “This is gonna be good.”

Stella looked at him, catching the wince he shot her way. Silently, she frowned at him, but JJ shook his head before nodding towards John B, who stood with his fists on his hips. “Sarah, um, she. . . She got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and there’s where I got the letter.”

Kie’s face scrunched up even more, looking a mix of pissed off and confused, while Stella gaped up at John B. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?”

John B’s throat worked. “Yeah, um. . .”

Next to her, JJ announced, “He was mackin’ on her.”

Stella gasped as she stared at him, wide eyed, and JJ nodded somberly while Pope coughed uncomfortably into his fist. Across the fire, Kie was glaring up at John B, and Stella hated the betrayal she could already see melting into Kie’s eyes. John B shot JJ a glare. “I wasn’t macking.”

JJ lifted his chin, unrelenting. “You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

He wasn’t helping the situation, so Stella lightly flicked his arm, prompting JJ to immediately look at her, pressing his cut lips together to keep himself from smirking. She narrowed her eyes in warning, and all JJ did was link their arms together and pull her to his side.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay?” John B spoke up, exasperated. “I was using her for access.”

JJ scoffed lightly. “There was access, alright.”

Stella pinched his side at that, despite the inappropriate laugh threatening to burst. Kie wouldn’t appreciate it, and Stella could tell her twin was seconds away from pushing John B into the fire. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie demanded.

John B’s eyes widened. “I was trying to get into the archives.”

Kie’s voice grew loud with disbelief. “Is that a yes?”

“I. . . I left out key details,” John B said, looking to the others for help. Stella pressed her lips together, pressed up against JJ. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, not with the current situation going on. Poor John B wasn’t going to get help on this.

“Yo, what?” Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the T-shirt company, bro?”

Suddenly, it was a battle between Kie and John B, and all Stella, JJ, and Pope could do was sit on the sidelines silently and watch. “I was just using her for information,” John B tried.

Kie shot him a wry look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

John B was growing exasperated already, shaking his head at the unhelpfulness of the others before looking back at Kie. “I’m trying to make us filthy rich here, okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or. . . or, uh. . .” He looked towards Pope, “send you to autopsy school to study bed bodies.” Stella’s face scrunched up as JJ suppressed a snort and Pope blinked owlishly. “Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

JJ blinked. “Uh—”

Stella tilted her head at John B. “Do you want us to answer that?” She could guarantee neither he nor Kie would appreciate the answer.

John B held up a hand at Stella. “Just—just stop.”

Kie shook her head, her jaw tight as she frowned deeply. “Look, you don’t know her yet. I do! You can’t trust her.”

Pope chimed in, “Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

John B looked to Pope. “Rafe and Sara are different human beings.”

JJ’s cheek was resting on top of Stella’s head as he asked Kie, “What did she do to you, exactly?”

Stella sighed. Oh, boy.

Kie held up two fingers and jabbed them forward. “She’s like a. . . a spitting cobra.” Everyone blinked, bewildered. “First she—she blinds you, and then—”

Stella was already shaking her head, sitting up straight as she said to her struggling sister, “This is a bad analogy.”

“Listen to me!” Kie exclaimed, clearly fed up with the situation. “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

Her words were met by silence, other than the crackling fire and chirping cicadas. John B stood quietly, throat working, clearly unsure of what to say as JJ and Pope stayed in their own awkward silence, too. Stella suppressed a sigh. It seemed as though it was up to her to smooth things over, even if she did slightly side with Kie in all of this. She didn’t have a begrudging hate towards Sarah like Kie did, but they were sisters, and Stella needed to show solidarity. But she could also, in some way, see John B’s side of things. God, this was gonna be tense.

“Kie,” Stella spoke up carefully, prompting Kie’s gaze to connect with hers. “Whatever John B promised Sarah, that’s his issue. But if she’s the only way we can get the map, then we need to let it happen.”

Kie’s jaw was hard. “I don’t want her involved. I don’t want to deal with her.”

“We won’t,” Stella said, glancing quickly at John B before looking at Kie again. “Let John B deal with her.” When Kie didn’t look entirely convinced, Stella let out a huff. “This is bigger than your beef with Sarah. I know you know that.”

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they all waited for Kie to respond. She sat quietly, hands gripping the log she sat on, mulling over Stella’s words. Stella, in turn, hoped she got through to her sister. They needed Kie to be on board with this, no matter her issues with Sarah. They’d already gotten this far in their treasure hunt—an old beef shouldn’t hinder them now.

Stella remained quiet, waiting for Kie to make a decision, although she silently enjoyed the sensation of JJ’s fingers ghosting up and down her arm, their arms still linked together. It was calming when others would argue JJ was anything but.

“Fine,” Kie finally gave in and everyone instantly sat up. She glared at John B. “As long as I don’t have to speak to her.” John B pressed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, his grin already forming. “I just hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

After John B profusely thanked Kie for agreeing, they killed the fire and got up before heading back to the van, since they had to drive to meet Sarah. The twigs and leaves crunched under their shoes as they went, but as Pope, Kie, and John B chatted while walking ahead, Stella lingered back and grasped JJ’s hand to slow his pace down.

He looked at her, eyebrows raising. “What’s up?”

Stella looked up at him, her fingers ghosting on his chin. Finally, she let the worry come out in full force as she asked, “Are you okay? Did—” she stopped, throat working to get rid of the lump that formed. “Did your dad do this?”

JJ’s jaw worked, blue eyes glimmering under the moonlight as he looked down at her. “Got a good chunk of money to pay in restitution,” he told her. “The old man’s not too happy about it.”

Despite herself, Stella felt the hot tears sting in her eyes. She preferred the pink in JJ’s cheeks when they were flushed when he was happy or even drunk—not the pink and harsh reds that surrounded the cuts and marked the bruises. Stella wasn’t sure she ever hated anyone as much as she hated JJ’s dad. Her throat was tight, unable to say anything except to croak out his name, “JJ—”

“Hey, hey,” he shushed her, hands coming up to cup Stella’s that had been ghosting along his sharp jaw. He held her hand in both of his before pressing a kiss to it, blue eyes locked in her brown. “I’m okay, Stel. They’ll heal. It’s no big deal.”

Stella scoffed, though her concern remained clear. “You can’t actually expect me to believe that.” The flutters in her stomach returned when JJ kissed her hand, when he looked at her with those baby blue eyes she loved so much. She let out a breath. “You’re sleeping over at John B’s, right?”

JJ offered her a small dimpled grin. “When am I not?”

Stella pinned him with a stare. They’d stopped walking and she knew they had to move soon, but she took a breath. “Whenever you can, either sleep at John’s or you sleep at mine. Okay?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, though she could see his gaze soften at her offer. But he kept the mood light as he teased, “You inviting me to your room, shark bait?”

Her heart jumped. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” Stella pointed out. It was the truth. They shared hammocks, chairs, couches, and beds countless times before.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” JJ questioned.

She looked at their hands before meeting his gaze again. “Is it?” she returned, throat working in anticipation. This was it. This was Stella asking JJ if whatever was happening between them was real, if something more was going to come out of it than a few kisses shared.

JJ’s gaze was intense, deep in a way she wasn’t used to as it stole her breath. “It is.” Steady, resolute, firm. No room for arguments. Thank fuckinf God.

Stella felt her grin appear before she could help it, relief warming her, and JJ mirrored her smile before ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt his cut lips. Her heart jumped excitedly as he kissed her, but it was cut short, unfortunately, when John B’s voice cut through the air.

“Oi! What happened to no macking?”

The two of them pulled apart, but John B was grinning, as were Pope and Kie as they looked at the two of them. Stella’s face flushed as JJ slung his arm around her shoulders before they began walking towards their friends. “I’m sure we can make an exception,” JJ said smoothly, cockily.

John B’s grin was wicked. “If it means you’ll finally stop whining about how much you looooove Stel, then yes we will.”

Stella laughed, cheeks flushing, while JJ spluttered. “I never whined!” he protested as they joined their friends.

Pope rolled his eyes. “That’s true. You just bottled it all up inside because you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sounds about right. I’m the one who made the first move,” Stella said, grinning widely at JJ’s betrayed expression, laughing as he used his arm around her to push her away. Stella continued laughing, along with the others, as she stumbled away, but didn’t lose her balance because JJ instantly caught her hand and pulled her back to his side.

“Whatever. I like an assertive woman,” JJ said with a charming grin, pressing a kiss to Stella’s temple as they neared the van.

Pointing at Pope and John B as they climbed inside, Kie said, “You two owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”

“No, we don’t!” John B argued as he started the van. “It’s after Midsummers.”

Pope nodded in agreement as Kie grinned wickedly before meeting Stella’s gaze as she sat on the back bench. With a giggle, Stella confessed, “It was actually yesterday. Before the summer movie series.”

John B and Pope’s gazes swung to JJ, who leaned back with his arms propped on top of the back bench casually as he said, “It’s true, boys.” John B shook his head and began driving, and JJ added, “Can’t believe you three bet on us.”

Sitting on the floor opposite of them, Pope scoffed. “Can’t believe it took you two this long to get together.”

“Okay!” Stella spoke up loudly, clapping her hands together once and shooting all of her friends a look. “We’re done talking about this.”

They reached their destination soon after that, a spot off in the middle of the woods where a tower stood, the apparent meeting spot John B had set up at Kildare Hawk’s Nest. As soon as he parked the car, Pope slid open the back van door as JJ slapped his knees. “Hit it, boys! We’re goin’. Recon mission.”

But before any of them could even get up, John B turned to face them. “Yo, uh. . . So, uh, I think I’m gonna do this one by myself. . . Tonight.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Kie rolled her eyes and Stella and JJ fell back in their seats. She raised her eyebrows as JJ drawled a knowing, “Really?”

John B frowned. “What?”

JJ took off his head. “Nothin’.”

John B sighed, fixing his own hat atop his head. “I don’t want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

Kie shrugged, voice sharp and annoyed as she looked at John B. “I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.”

Stella let out a sigh as she leaned back, JJ now sitting on the ground next to her, his head resting against her leg as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Kie, we’re not involving her, okay?” John B said, exasperated. “It’s—it’s just, uh, like a—a business meeting. . . Thing.” On the ground, JJ made a crude motion with the joint he held and made a gulping sound, prompting Pope to grin in amusement while Stella rolled her eyes at John B. He was not selling this well. “Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, all right? Plus, we need the map.”

Yeah, okay. Stella wasn’t quite sure how much she believed that.

Kie pursed her lips, leaning forward as she stared John B dead in the eye. “Promise me nothing’s happening between you two.”

John B widened his eyes, answering breathily, “Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay!”

Kie was still frowning, as if she was trying to get John B to get the message through her glare. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about us. This is about her.” Stella pressed her lips together as she watched them. Kie’s beef with Sarah was so damn deep, she wondered if they would be able to do with if she wasn’t on board with Sarah helping out just this once. Personally, Stella didn’t give a shit about Sarah Cameron; she just didn’t like her out of principle for the way the end of that friendship hurt Kie. Everything else was between Kie and Sarah. “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.”

John B looked at her as lightning flashed outside and thunder rolled. “I promise.”

“That was really believable,” JJ piped up.

Pope nodded. “A hundred percent believable.”

Stella lightly knocked JJ with her knee while glaring at Pope, effectively shutting both of them up. John B didn’t dignify them with a response, instead saying, “Anyways, um, I’m gonna take care of business.”

JJ shook his head, playing with the joint. “You’re gonna take care of it so well.”

Stella waved John B off dismissively. “We’ll just sit here,” she said dryly. “In the hot-ass car.”

Pope added, “While it’s lightning.”

They left the back door of the van open as John B got out, backpack on as he walked off towards the tower. The wind rustled outside, thunder rumbling every now and then to accompany the flashes of lightning that warned of a storm rolling in. “Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die,” Pope said once John B was gone.

“Exactly,” JJ nodded.

Kie shot the two of them a withering stare before looking at Stella. Her twin merely shrugged. “You know I’m on your side,” Stella said. “But you can’t really tell John B what he can or can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what to do,” Kie shot back. “I’m just warning him against the kind of person I know Sarah is. She’s gonna fuck us over.”

“Look, we just—we just gotta trust that John B knows what he’s doing,” Pope tried to placate, looking between Stella and Kie. “That he’s using his head.”

Kie scoffed, not really convinced. “I know what head he’s using, and it isn’t the one on his shoulders.”

“That’s a good one,” JJ mumbled quietly where he sat.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the rumble of thunder, before conversation started up again. Pope had asked about what happened at Midsummers, and JJ launched into the story that led up to the Kooks cornering him in the men’s room while they waited for John B to return with the map.

JJ was saying, “Rafe and Kelce followed me—”

Kie cut him off. “Wait, do you guys hear that?” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sh.”

Stella frowned. “What?”

And then, in the distance, over the sound of the wind howling and thunder rumbling, came a girl’s voice yelling, “Please, somebody, help!”

All of their eyes widened, instantly on their feet as JJ grunted, “Oh, wait, no, I hear that.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed as they all stumbled out.

“What the fuck?” Stella muttered, gripping the skirt of her dress so it didn’t get tangled in her feet as she ran.

The voice, Stella realized, belonged to Sarah, and her heart started pounding as they ran towards the Hawk’s Nest, throat already drying in worry. The first thought in her head was that something went terribly wrong, that John B was hurt, and when they all cleared a group of trees towards the base of the Nest, Stella’s fear came true as a gasp ripped through her at the sight of John B lying on the ground, Sarah crying as she cradled his head and begged for him to wake up and open his eyes.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope asked as they came running over, skidding to a stop, their breathing labored.

Sarah was crying, and Stella’s heart clenched at the sight of John B, unconscious, fear drenching her veins in ice as she instantly gripped Kie’s hand. “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah sobbed. “He needs help. Topper shoved him.”

Anger heated Stella’s skin, momentarily taking over the terror trembling her body as JJ demanded, “Where the hell is he?”

But Sarah just cried, “Oh, please, please, please get help. I don’t care who. Just call someone.”

Stella pushed Pope away as she panted, “Go! Call 911! Go!”

Pope took off and Kie shouted after him, “Pope, hurry!”

They all stood, breathing labored and hearts pounding, unsure of what to do as their friend lay unconscious. Worry weighed heavily on them all, to the point where Stella couldn’t even stop to question the way Sarah was holding John B to her, crying for him, kissing him and begging for him to wake up. No, nothing else mattered other than their injured friend, the tears stinging in Stella’s eyes as she prayed to anyone who was listening that he would wake up. Soon. Now. Please.

[starlightsaeran]

Moonchild

Author’s note: Hello hello! I’m so excited to be posting the first of two pieces created for the @mysme-rbb !! I’ve been unbelivably lucky to be paired with such an overwhelmingly talented artist, @pili-art {{please go show her all the love in the world!! }}, and I've had more fun creating these than I can even put into words!! I hope you love them <3

Summary: Saeran drifts off to sleep after another night of anxiety, but for the first time in a long while, his dreams are far from torturous...

Read on AO3: here! 

Make sure to check out my partner’s STUNNING accompanying art here!! ✨

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Saeran wanders among the scintillating tightrope hung between the planets, tangled among the clouds.

The darkness is inescapable. A thick blanket of it envelops him, entangling everything it isn’t with everything he is, securing him, but never trapping him. It pulls him under into its reassuring embrace, and quellls the flames of his neverending fears and anxieties. The darkness is a lullaby to the exhaustion of his soul.

 Saeran is alone. He had long ago grown used to being alone, and now he felt the most at ease when he was by himself, in the hours when he knew no one else was around to see his weaknesses and the insecurities that were always lit up like a neon sign behind his eyes. He enjoyed being alone, but the inevitable loneliness that managed to creep up on him without fail every time he was alone made him want to run far and far away. But every silver lining has its cloud, and Saeran, being as smart as he is, knew there would never be anywhere for him ro run to. In this moment, Saeran is alone, but he isn’t lonely. The darkness, though he is sure that’s all it is and all it has ever been, feels like a friend. It remains silent, watching, though Saeran knows it is never judging. That’s why he has always found it so easy to be comforted by the darkness, to melt it into it, until he can’t remember where the darkness ends and he begins. Intertwined - with the emptiness he came from, the emptiness he belongs to. The darkness hides him. Him, and everything he is, everything he has ever been and never will be. It sees him, though for once, that doesn’t scare him. He knows he can be himself within the darkness, though in reality, he has no choice. He is simply too tired to hide it now.

No, the darkness is not empty, not as his heart had once been, is usually for that matter, but right now he doesn’t feel it; the infinite, endless cavern of depression he can't help but fall and fall and fall into. There is no escape, for it exists within him. It is him, this nightmare he can’t awake from. His heart is a blackhole. Perhaps this, the ocean of nothingness that exists many lifetimes away from all human creation, this is the perfect place for a creature like him to reside. There is nothing for him to destroy here, nothing for him to tarnish with the breaths he can’t help but to take. He is something to be feared. But perhaps here, in a place as wholly consuming as this, in an atmosphere which plucks his every thought from him like they are naught but weeds in a flowerbed, the inevitable ache which demands to be felt cannot find him.

In this moment, in this place, he cannot feel the heavy burden of his heart. This is a welcome escape from the anguish of his daily routine. In fact, Saeran can’t feel very much of anything else either. Not the untamable wisps of his hair that usually torment the corners of his always tired eyes, not the ache in his bones from the repeating days in which his body is stuck in its chair whilst his mind runs at the speed of light, or the pounding in his head that refuses to cease. He can’t even feel the rips and tears in the skin of his fingertips, which usually serve as a  constant reminder of his own weakness and lack of self control. He feels none of it. He feels...nothing. Like the darkness within which he is encased, he is still.

Saeran tries to recall how it was he wound up here, wherever here is, and vaguely remembers the ghosts of his tears as they ran down his cheeks, and the way their rhythmic flow ebbed him to sleep. His head had been resting on a pillow dampened by the tears he’d cried an hour or a day or a year before, and the night sky visible through the glass ceiling above him had seemed to be inviting him to rest with it.

That must be where he is now. Dreaming, his mind wandering as his body rests, safe. But if his body was resting beneath the stars, then where were they now?

Open your eyes.

 Saeran hears a voice say, or does he? It’s hard to tell if the words had manifested from the darkness, or if he had simply imagined them himself from the newly relaxed state of his mind. All he knows is that those words had sounded unimaginably pretty. They were a sound unlike any he had ever heard before, even lovelier than windchimes, and sirens singing in a storm. They had felt like kisses from a butterfly gliding past his skin. Regardless of the origin of the words, he feels as though he has no choice but to obey. He isn’t sure he is even in control of his own actions now, and though he hadn’t realised they had even been closed;

he opens his eyes.

An uncountable amount of stars had suddenly filled all of eternity. They are shining in all their seraphic glory, as they dance and dance with themselves and with each other, a cacophony of love, a symphony of light. They are beautiful in a way that nothing else is, and nothing else could ever dream to be. They intertwine with one another, forming families of constellations and creating a sight like nothing Saeran had ever imagined possible. They light up the world, and for the first time, Saeran can see it as it stretches for miles and miles, a whole galaxy of possibilities. Each one twinkles and sparkles in greeting. To his surprise, Saeran can feel their excitement; they are excited to see him. Their colours fill his soul, and he aches to be one of them. 

And there, like a lighthouse within the storm of the ocean, is the moon. Like a forgotten lover, she calls to him. One look is all it takes and he is mesmerized, completely and utterly lost in the light of her glow. 

Saeran.

The voice was a breeze blowing softly through him, and it called his name with such tenderness, such care, possibly even… love? Now wouldn’t that be a strange sort of thing. Love, for a nightmare like him? Yes, he mustn’t let him himself forget, even in the paradise of a place like this, he was a nightmare within a dream, a beast amongst beauty, and the blackhole of his heart would tear this goodness to shreds. He couldn’t let that happen. No, as much as he wanted to stay, and oh, did he want to stay, he wouldn’t let himself be this selfish. He wouldn’t watch his happiness be ripped from him again. He had to leave, had to get out, had to find a way to wake up, had to-

Saeran.

He hears it again, and this time he realises the voice is definitely feminine. The way she says his name holds him captive. He hadn’t been able to feel a thing, now all of a sudden he feels her, and the warmth in her glow. He feels her surrounding him. He feels her hands, as though one was stroking his cheek and another tangles itself in his hair, grounding him, but never trapping him.

Oh, Little Prince. My cloud wanderer. My star wonderer.

He melts into her soothing touch as though there is no other choice. Her light finds its way to his every corner, lighting him up from the inside, and extracting all his fear. It reminds him that this is where he exists in the present. All that matters is this moment. He hadn’t realised in his sudden calmness that his eyes had closed themselves again, shying away from the light as he was used to doing, until he hears her say;

Look. Look at all of your stars. They shine for you and only you. With each breath you take, you grant life to a new star. They exist because you exist. This is your galaxy.

Her words were a command his soul did not possess the ability to disobey, as though she retained complete control over him, and so he opens his eyes and looks. He tries to take it all in; the words of which their truth he feels in some deep, unexplored part of his soul, and the billions of lights, each one its own individual life, all shining for and because of him. If he had been on earth right now the truth of it all would have brought him to his knees. He feels like he is falling. How...how could all of this exist for him? How could a creature like him even pretend to be worthy-

Let go, my love. You are not falling, but flying.

He wants to let go, has been trying for it seemed the entirety of his existence, but the weight of his heart was an anchor to the world with which he no longer wanted to have anything to do, especially not now. Not after seeing exactly where it was his soul could escape to.

A heart is a heavy burden indeed. And yet you handle yours so well, little one. My starlit dreamer, to love as you do is a wondrous thing. Flowers grow to meet your smile. Birds sing their joy when they feel your presence. A soul as pure as yours, and a star as sweet as you, well, it’s no surprise the weight of the love in your heart made you sink, and the Earth claimed you for itself.

He feels it now. The pull of the night. The song of the stars that matched the one his soul had been singing alone for so long. He is a star. A star with a heart too full of love. And it had caused him to fall to the Earth.

You have become earthbound, and now so many worlds exist within yours, within you, within the wonders of your eyes.

Although of course the truth is shocking, more than anything, he feels a wave of welcomed understanding wash over him. He is as calm as the night. He hasn’t learnt a new truth, it’s more like unlocking a very old memory. But it is a truth nonetheless, and one he hopes he can carry with him. A truth he hopes he will be able to recall on those recurring nights of agony, when it felt as though all the world were against him. 

You know who you are in your heart, little one. You have survived until now. You have been brave, and you will be braver still. The stars have already written your name amongst theirs, and there it will always remain. Your home is only a dream away.

Then why, he wants to scream. If his home is amongst the stars and the love and the light of the galaxy, if he is so special to them, then why is he cursed to a life of pain and heartache? Why can’t he remain here, where for the first time in his life he feels loved and like he has an understanding of the world, he has a grasp on the workings and intricacies of life, and he doesn’t feel like he’s on the cusp of letting go? 

The Earth needs you, precious one. There are lives you are going to save and smiles you’re going to bring to so, so many people. They need you. And they will love you more than you could ever imagine. Your struggles make you stronger, so that your heart may find the hearts of those that need you, and in turn you may pass on your wisdom and your love to save them. And every time they look up at the stars, on the painful nights as you have, they will see you there, shining brightly, and they will know they are safe. They will know they are loved. They will know there is a world out there waiting for them, and there are lives for them to save in turn. 

You know the truth of who you are. You will carry that truth with you for always, it is not something your soul can forget. When the days are hard and the nights are long, remember that you are loved by stars both up here, and stars that are like you, whose overflowing hearts have caused them to fall through the night and land upon the Earth. You need each other, and together, you will shine across every darkened corner of a land that feels lost. Discover it. Discover yourself, and the weight of the love within you. 

I will always be with you, dear one. The stars in your eyes are the tears in mine, and though there may be little rest for the moon, your existence will never be a burden to me. I exist to guide you through the night. 

Saeran feels himself growing sleepy; not tired, as though it is torture to his eyes to keep them open. Not exhausted, as though even sleep isn’t enough to fix him. But safe, warm, full of love and of light, as though he himself were just a little cloud floating carelessly through the sky.

Rest now, my angel. Tomorrow, your eyes will once again light up the sun. For now, may you rest, and allow me to take on your worries. Whenever your heart bubbles over with fear, may your dreams carry you home, where we will always be waiting. 

And as Saeran gives in to the waves of sleep pulling him under, he rests his head against the gentle surface of the Moon, and the smile on his face is bright enough to be seen from Earth.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Similarities

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Y’know I realize there hasn’t been that much advancement of the plot in this AU as of late. Sorry bout that. But hey, no story is all action all the time. And we get character development! In this, Jackie stays over with JJ and Marvin, and talks with the latter about some...experiences. Emotions are involved. Two characters grow closer. Stuff like that. It was nice to write, so I hope you guys enjoy :)

More of this AU found here

“And then! And then Kristy gave me this bracelet. She gave one to all the girls in class, I mean, but look at it! It’s my favorite colors!” Michelle shook her wrist, causing her new red-and-yellow beaded bracelet to spin wildly around it. “And I’m the only one who got the star charms!”

Jackie smiled, leaning down to ruffle Michelle’s hair. “Sounds like a fun last day of school.”

“It was! And now we’re on holiday, and that’s always great!” Michelle flopped down onto her back, now laying on the living room floor, and looked up at her dad sitting on the sofa with wide eyes. “And about holidays, what did you get me for Christmas?”

“I can’t tell you that! It’ll ruin the surprise!”

“I’ll like it anyway.”

Jackie laughed. “That’s probably true, but the surprise makes it even better. Why, is there something you really want?”

“Don’t worry, I already wrote my letter,” Michelle said proudly. “I gave it to Ren.”

“Oh that’s great!” Jackie said. Rama showed him the letter earlier; Michelle had included a detailed list of toys she wanted Santa to bring. “Right, I forgot they told me they dropped it off at the mailbox. They also said your writing is looking really good.”

“They did?!” Michelle beamed. “That’s so cool.”

Before Jackie could continue, the alarm on his phone went off. He dug it out of his hoodie pocket and turned it off, sighing. “Well, looks like I have to go now.”

“Aww.” Michelle’s happy expression turned to a pout as they sat up. “Can’t you stay more? I never see you anymore.”

“Sorry, sweetie, Dad has to go to work,” Jackie said regretfully. “But I’m really glad I stopped by before I had to.”

“Stupid work,” Michelle grumbled. She held out her arms. “Hug?”

Jackie bent over and gave her a hug, squeezing tight as he lifted her off the ground and onto her feet. “I’ll see you again later.”

“Bye, Dad.” Michelle waved as Jackie grabbed his coat and walked over to the front door, heading out.

It was a bit after noon, the sky partly cloudy. Jackie had taken to picking up shorter afternoon and evening shifts at the hospital. He was fine with taking more, but his boss still insisted he didn’t work as much, after the...ordeal he went through a few months ago. Part of him wondered if she was trying to get him to quit or something, but he wasn’t going to do that any time soon, so it was a misguided strategy if that was the case.

Rama was outside, trying to do yard work in their small front garden. Jackie stopped for a moment, watching. They quickly noticed and stopped, standing up straight and turning around to ask, “Enjoying the view?”

“Hey, I-I didn’t—I wasn’t—” Jackie stammered, blushing a bit. “You’re wearing a coat. I was just thinking it looked a bit difficult, pulling up dead weeds in the—in the hard winter dirt—”

“I know, Jackieboy,” Rama chuckled. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah,” Jackie said regretfully. “I already said goodbye to Michelle.”

Rama hesitated, then slowly asked, “Have you...thought about moving back in...any time? In the near future, I mean.”

Jackie paused, thinking about it as he turned to look over the house. It was so familiar to him. It was his home—or at least, it had been, up until...everything happened. And just being inside put him on edge. “You know...it’s not just that it’s ours, i-it’s any place that...sort of looks like the place where...” He trailed off. After all this time, he still hadn’t told Rama anything about Distorter. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a good idea to keep secrets from your spouse. But just...something like that...it seemed like the more people knew about Distorter, the more they were pulled into this situation. They’d already lost Michelle for a bit, he couldn’t bear if...

“I understand,” Rama nodded. “But...we miss you. Even though you visit so often.”

“I know, I miss you too.” Jackie thought about it. “I—I still get pretty anxious, but I’m working on it. With Lisa.” That was his therapist. “Maybe sooner rather than later?”

Rama went silent, then clapped their hands once. “Okay. We’ll buy an apartment.”

“Wh-what?!” Jackie gasped. “Ramram, you can’t do that! It’s expensive, and we’re putting most of your book money towards Michelle’s education—Not to mention it’ll be a whole change, the move might be hard on Mich, especially if it’s too far away from the school and she has to transfer. And we’re in the suburbs because of the quiet for your writing—No, i-it won’t work out, I can’t make you two do that.”

After a moment, Rama slowly nodded. “If you’re sure. Take care of yourself, mi corazón. Do what’s best for you.”

Jackie walked over and gave Rama a quick squeeze of the hand. “I will. You do the same.”

They leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. “Have a good time at work.”

“Thanks. I mean, I’ll try. I’ll see you guys later.”

And with that, he headed over to his car and got inside. Before driving off, he waved at the house one more time. Rama waved back, standing in the yard, and Michelle did, too, watching from the front window. He kept looking at them as he pulled away.

——————— 

That evening, Jackie was driving back from work, tired after a long day, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Who could be texting him now? Rama, maybe? Did they want to continue the conversation they had before he went to the hospital? Or maybe it was similarly important. Curious, Jackie pulled over to the side of the road and parked, taking his phone out to check it really quick.

The message was from JJ. Hey Jackie. Sorry, but it’s happened again.

Jackie knew what that meant. He unlocked the phone and replied, Marvin? Whats the problem this time? Symptoms?

Fever again. Sometimes coughing, no sneezing. I thought it was just a cold, but I think it’s getting bad.

Bad? Jackie asked, already worried.

Maybe I’m just paranoid. Thinking about that time he had to stay in the hospital last year. But I’d rather be safe than sorry. Can you pop over?

Jackie didn’t hesitate. Of course. I’ll be right there. But first, how long has he been sick?

JJ paused, probably thinking. Well it really only started the day before yesterday, but about a week ago he got a little sick. He was better by the next day, so I assumed that was it.

Yknow he mightve been pretending to be better?

If he was, I’m going to kill him, JJ immediately replied. 

Jackie let out a huff of laughter. Dont kill him before I get there. I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops.

Got it. Thanks.

He put his phone back in his pocket and pulled back onto the road. He really hoped it wasn’t a repeat of what happened last year. That situation had been...worrying. Stressful, even. Because Marvin hadn’t had any official paperwork, they couldn’t get him to the hospital right away, not until Anti could forge some stuff. Poor Marvin had to suffer through a lot before they got everything together. Luckily, they’d gotten him up-to-date with paperwork and vaccines since then, but even so, winter seemed to especially affect his health.

It was unlikely that this would be a similar situation, but just in case, Jackie stepped on the gas.

———————

He arrived at Marvin and Jameson’s house nine minutes later and hurried up to the front door, where he knocked and waited. Almost immediately the door swung open to show Jameson inside. So glad you could make it, he signed. I hope I didn’t message you at an inconvenient time.

“Huh? No, it was fine, I was heading back home, anyway.” Jackie stepped inside, and JJ closed the door behind him. “Is he in his room?”

Unless he left in the last minute, JJ said.

That might actually be a possibility, given Marvin’s attitude towards being sick. Jackie hurried down the hall to his bedroom. The door was closed, so he slowly eased it open and poked his head in. “Marvin? It’s me.”

The lights were off, and the dark room was filled with the sound of an electric fan whirring. Something moved on the bed—probably Marvin rolling over. “Y’got t’be more specific. ‘Me’ coul’ be anyone,” he mumbled.

“It’s Jackie.” As he said this, Jackie reached over and flipped on the light switch, so Marvin could see him as well as hear.

“Ah!” Marvin squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden brightness. “Jackie? Huh. Come for a visit..? No, wait...y’here for somet’ing?”

“Yeah, I’m just uh...stopping by for a bit.” Jackie took a step into the room, JJ following shortly behind, and walked over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“‘M fine. Jus’ grand.” Obviously, this was not the case. Marvin was sweating enough to make his hair damp, and his skin had a sickly pallor. But despite how hot he seemed, he was shivering, and had the comforter on the bed pulled up. Mr. Fluffington was sitting next to the pillow, purring furiously. Marvin reached over and petted him for a moment before flinging his arm over his face and covering his eyes. “Ev’ryt’ing’s Jake.”

“Yeah. Um...clearly not.” Jackie looked over at JJ. “Can you go get the—”

Already anticipating what he was going to ask for, JJ walked over to the nearest chair and picked up their first aid kit, coming back over to hand it to Jackie.

“Oh. Thanks.” Jackie took it and started rummaging about inside. “Marv, I’m going to take your temperature, do you mind?”

“A-ha. So it’s a fuckin’...fucking’ check-up I get it...” Marvin trailed off into mumbling under his breath, but didn’t protest as Jackie pulled out the thermometer and took his temperature. After it was done, he rolled over onto his side, practically burying his face in Fluffington’s fur.

Jackie looked down at the thermometer and frowned. 39.2 C...that wasn’t good. Wasn’t good at all. “Marvin? How do you really feel? Like...on the fatigue scale, where would you be?”

Marvin looked back over at him, head rolling lazily. “Hmm...se-seven? Seven and a half?”

“You have a really high fever. Is there anything else, like a headache or something?”

“Well...” Marvin paused to think. His eyes were a bit glazed. “T’ere’s a tickle in my throat. Won’ go ‘way. My nose is all stuffy. Felt a bit sick...sick like...the stomach issues sick. Couldn’ eat anyt’ing ‘cause...bad.”

Jackie glanced over at JJ, hovering nearby. I can second that, JJ said. He didn’t have dinner.

“Alright. It’s probably just a cold,” Jackie said. Yet a note of uncertainty remained in his voice. “A bad one, but you’ll probably be fine.”

So what do we do then? JJ asked.

Jackie hesitated. “Well...” His instincts were telling him not to take any risks, to stay and make sure everything stayed fine. “Given past experiences, is it okay if I spend the night? Just to keep an eye on things.”

“Wha...?” With a fair amount of effort, Marvin sat up. “No, don’ stay over, you’re...you’re prob’ly all busy. Ye jus’ said it was alrigh’.”

“Alright...for now,” Jackie said darkly. “Right now you’re on the edge of ‘a bad cold’ and ‘a serious issue.’ Things could easily get worse in the night, but by tomorrow, it’ll be clear if this is the worst it’ll get or...if there’s more.”

JJ’s expression was filled with anxiety. Is there anything I can do to help?

“Yeah. Get him to take his shirt off.”

Marvin snorted. “Whoa, Jackie, you know Jems and I aren’...aren’ a pair. Not t’at type of pair.”

Jackie rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you need to change your shirt. I know your feelings on short sleeves, but this is making your fever worse.” He turned back to JJ. “Anyway, you know what else. Ibuprofen, water, all that. You already got the fan on, that’s good.”

JJ nodded seriously. Got it. You really want to stay over?

“Well...better safe than sorry, you know? If it starts to go bad, I can recognize it, and we can get him to the hospital really quickly. Is...is it okay?”

Of course it is! You can stay whenever, but especially in this situation. You’re the doctor, after all. JJ smiled gently.

Marvin groaned. “Fffffine, Jackie can stay.”

Jackie smiled a bit at Marvin’s acceptance. But really, him not protesting more was a sign of how bad he felt. At this point, he probably recognized that he needed help, and it wasn’t worth the struggle. “Great. I’ll just have to call Schneep and tell him what’s going on, so he doesn’t get worried when I don’t show up at the flat. But right now, where do you keep the Ibuprofen?”

———————

Marvin and Jameson’s town house didn’t have a guest bedroom, so Jackie had to set up in the living room. Luckily, they did have lots of spare pillows and blankets. But Jackie wasn’t going to sleep right away. He was staying over to keep an eye on things, so that’s what he did. First, by making sure Marvin actually changed clothes into something cooler and more lightweight. Then, by teaming up with JJ to make sure Marvin actually ate dinner. He still didn’t have much of an appetite, but between the two of them, they convinced him that he needed the energy. Oh, and water. He needed lots of water.

In the meantime, Jackie watched some YouTube videos on his phone to pass the time. JJ offered to lend him a book, but Jackie turned him down. He wasn’t in the mood to read, and besides, it would probably take him days to finish with his new work schedule. Every so often, he got up and went into Marvin’s bedroom to check on him. Maybe too often. Marvin quickly got annoyed, though he didn’t have the energy to snap at him.

“Hey, do you need anything?” Jackie asked on perhaps his fifth check-in.

“I need...t’not be so hot,” Marvin replied, a faint note of sarcasm in his voice.

“Do you feel worse?” Jackie asked. “Maybe you need to take off the blanket?”

“No.” Marvin briefly buried his face in the pillow before realizing that he couldn’t breathe like that, not while his nose was all congested. “‘f I take off the...the blanket, then ‘m too cold.”

“Ah. Well, maybe a thinner one, then? Here, lemme take your temperature again.”

Marvin didn’t say anything, just allowed the temperature-taking and the blanket-switching. Then he rolled over and closed his eyes, presumably falling asleep immediately.

JJ bounced between being on his computer, being upstairs in his magic workroom, and checking up on and bringing things to Marvin. He constantly seemed distracted, unable to commit to one course of action. Jackie couldn’t blame him. His best friend was sick, and there was a distinct possibility that he could get worse and would need to go to the hospital. Anyone would wander around, unsure what to do.

One time, JJ came into the living room with his laptop and sat down, writing. “What’re you doing?” Jackie asked.

JJ looked up. Work stuff. A lot of emails, mostly.

“Ugh. Work emails.” Jackie shook his head. “Y’know half the time the emails I get aren’t even relevant to me. It’s like ‘Notice: thing in the operating room’ and I’m like ‘you do know I’m just a GP, right? And for kids, too, right?’ Like, I think I’ve been in the operating room twice.”

JJ chuckled weakly. It’s a bit different for me. I have to coordinate rehearsals and effect supplies, book venues, and generally manage and schedule a bunch of people.

“Really? What about your manager? What’s her name, uhhh...Darla? Doesn’t she do that stuff?”

Sort of. It’s like a joint effort. I’m technically in charge, though, so I at least have to approve everything.

Jackie shook his head. “I could never do that. Too much. How do you manage?”

I was a theatre kid, JJ said, shrugging with a half-smile on his face.

“Does having actual magic help?”

Not really, not with all the organizational stuff. If anything, it can make things more complicated, as I have to figure out a trick that I can use with real magic but cover up with tricks and effects. JJ sighed. I really need this to go well, Jackie. It’s the first show since my voice was damaged, it has to work out.

Jackie smiled at him. He leaned over from his position on the sofa and put a hand on JJ’s shoulder, which he could barely reach as JJ was sitting in a different chair. “You’ll do great. Your shows have always been fantastic, and the voice thing isn’t going to change that.”

JJ smiled a bit. Thanks, Jackie. Glad to know you think so.

“We all do. We belieeeeve in youuuu.”

JJ laughed a bit, and returned to his emails.

Eventually, night came. JJ wrapped up his work and reluctantly headed to bed, not wanting to leave Marvin alone and sick. But Jackie assured him that it would be fine. He would be staying up, and if Marvin wanted to talk to JJ specifically, he could go wake him up. Or Marvin could text him. Mostly reassured, Jameson went upstairs to sleep, leaving Jackie awake in the living room.

Jackie checked on Marvin a couple times more, but found him asleep. Exhausted from all the fatigue he was feeling. Good. If he slept well, he’d probably be better in the morning, and they could all relax when it turned out to be a terrible cold, and nothing more.

Watching YouTube videos eventually got boring, so Jackie decided to plug his phone in to charge and do something else for a bit. As it turned out, Mr. Fluffington was still awake as well. So Jackie found a laser pointer in a table drawer in the living room and played with him for a bit. Until, after a while, Fluffington got tired of the red dot, and even the cat went to bed.

Bored again, Jackie put the laser pointer back. He was considering JJ’s offer of lending a book to read, and was looking over the titles of the ones on the living room bookshelves, when he heard...something. Some sort of distant sound. He paused, going still as he listened.

For a while, nothing happened, and everything was silent. But then, he heard it again. A voice? Someone saying something? Maybe it wasn’t words, but instead just sounds...distressed sounds. After a few moments of listening, Jackie realized with a start that the voice was coming from down the hall. The direction of Marvin’s room.

Something must have been wrong. Immediately, Jackie unplugged his phone and pocketed it—just in case—and headed down the hall, half-running. He reached Marvin’s door soon, finding it closed. He didn’t hesitate to open it and step inside. “Marvin?! Is everything okay?”

The room was dark again, pitch black in the night. The fan was off. Strange, it was on last time Jackie was in here. Had Marvin woken up and turned it off? That didn’t matter. He could clearly hear Marvin, crying out and whimpering. Jackie flicked the light switch on and walked over. “Marvin? What’s wrong?”

Marvin didn’t answer, just kept mumbling and crying, sounding frantic. Then, Jackie noticed his eyes were closed. Ah. So he was asleep. Having a nightmare. And a bad one, by the looks of it. His blankets and even his shirt were all twisted around him, which only upset him more, as he seemed to be trying to fight against them. Jackie reached out and put a hand on his head, then immediately pulled it away. He was so hot, the fever burning him up. Jackie turned the fan on and checked the bedside nightstand for anything else. There was a half-empty glass of water and a damp cloth. That would work.

He picked up the damp cloth and tried to put it on Marvin’s head. But Marvin cried out and yanked his head away, shouting...something. Jackie couldn’t quite catch it, but he thought he heard ‘go away’ and ‘don’t want your help.’ “Marvin, it’s me. I-I want to—can you wake up? Wake up, it’s fine.” He reached out to try and untangle the blankets.

That turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Marvin started flailing wildly, tossing, turning, kicking, waving. The blankets restricted his movement, but it was still enough to make him roll off the opposite side of the bed. “Marvin!” Jackie leaned over the bed. “God damn it. I’ll get you, don’t worry.”

As he walked around to the other side, he stopped for a moment. The edge of the blankets were tucked into the gap between the mattress and the footboard. Jackie pulled them out, letting the blankets go free. That made them somewhat less restrictive, but it also meant that Marvin, still moving and struggling, ended up wrapping them loosely around his legs. Which...actually probably didn’t help in the long run. Well, too late now. Jackie knelt down on the ground next to Marvin. “Hey, calm down, it’s fine,” he said, trying to sound soothing as he went about untangling the blankets around him.

It took longer than he expected. Marvin kept wriggling and flailing, but still had his eyes firmly shut as he remained asleep. Jackie tried to wake him up, but to no avail. And he kept muttering the whole time, occasionally whimpering or crying out as if in pain. His words ran together, slurred by sleep-talking, but some distinct phrases popped up: “Get away!” “Don’t you dare...” “Leave me alone!” “...don’t want it.” “Don’t want you.” It hurt Jackie’s heart to hear. Was it the fever causing this nightmare? Or something more?

After a good few minutes, he freed the blankets, leaving them on the floor as he tried to pick up Marvin. Again, the struggling made this difficult. Marvin actively tried to push him away at times...though that mostly turned into him weakly slapping Jackie’s face and arms. But Jackie was determined, and managed to get Marvin back on top of the mattress. Once there, Marvin gave up and went limp, lying there still. Jackie sighed in relief and pressed his hand to his head. Still hot, and his pale skin was damp with sweat. He should wake him up soon, get him to drink some water to replace what he lost with all the sweat. But first, he picked up the damp rag again, using some of the water from the glass to wet it more and make it cooler. He laid the cloth across Marvin’s forehead.

The moment he did, something...unusual started to happen. Marvin whimpered, turned his head to the side, and started to cry. Tears leaked from his eyes as he quietly sobbed and continued to mumble something. The words had changed. Now, Jackie could hear a lot of “No” and “Please don’t” over and over and over. As he listened, stunned, these were broken up by adding “I’m sorry” and “I’ll be good” to the mix, which only shocked him further.

“God. Marvin,” he whispered to himself. No more waiting, he had to wake him up now. He couldn’t handle the thought of leaving him to whatever horrible nightmare he was having. “Marvin, wake up. It’s me, it’s Jackie.” He leaned over and started shaking him. Gently at first, then gradually harder as that failed to wake him up. His voice slowly raised. “Marvin. Marvin! This is Jackie. You need to wake up!”

After what felt like ages, Marvin stopped mumbling. He groaned, and slowly opened his eyes, staring up at Jackie. At first, confused. Then slowly getting his bearings. He reached up and weakly grabbed at the damp cloth on his forehead until he managed to take it off. Then he tried to sit up, but gave up once the fatigue proved too heavy. “Whoa...” he muttered. “I...where...? When...?”

“You’re in your room. In the house you live in with Jameson,” Jackie explained patiently. “It’s...” He checked the time on his phone. “Ha, it’s midnight on the dot.”

“What...?” Marvin swallowed dryly. “What’s the date?”

“December 10th.”

“...the year?”

“2018.”

“Right.” Marvin nodded a bit, then stopped, looking a bit dizzy. Once again, he tried to sit up, and this time Jackie helped him prop himself against the headboard. “D’you...have any water?”

“Yeah.” Jackie grabbed the water glass and offered it to him. Marvin grasped it weakly, and Jackie only let go once he was sure he could hold it securely. 

Immediately, Marvin lifted the glass to his mouth and drank, draining the glass. “Th’nk you,” he said, handing it back.

“No problem,” Jackie said, taking it. “I can go get more, if you want. Colder, too.”

Marvin took a deep breath, looking unsure. Actually, he looked more than unsure. He looked...shaken.

“You were...having a bad dream,” Jackie said gently. “I-I could hear you making noise, talking and...shouting and...and crying. So I came to check on you. You were rolling around and fell off at one point, but now you’re awake. A-and you’re alright. You’re safe.”

Marvin stared at him for a while, then looked away and closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. Then, strangely...he laughed. “Bad dream,” he repeated. “‘Tis always a bad dream. T’at’s...only time I remember. Which ‘s...strange...isn’ it? T’at’s not how mem’ry works.”

“Remember?” Jackie blinked. “Remember what?”

A pause. Marvin opened his eyes, but didn’t look directly at Jackie. “If y’coul’...go get water I’d…’preciate it.”

“Do you mean...the time you were with him?” Jackie asked softly.

Marvin stiffened. “How’d you...?”

“How did I guess? I just...” Jackie looked down at his hands. He traced the scars on his wrists and shrugged. “It sounded...familiar.”

The silence that followed stretched on. Jackie was worried he’d overstepped some boundary and was about to leave, when Marvin pulled his knees up and gestured to the end of the bed, now clear without his legs there. “Sit down.”

Jackie sat. “Did I—do you not want to talk about it?”

“You...you r’member, righ’?” Marvin asked. “What happened...when you were with him?”

“Of course. I-I-I couldn’t forget.” Jackie laughed humorlessly. “It’s actually a problem, so much reminds me of it. I had to make Volt throw out his zip-ties, and put away his knives and half his cleaning stuff when I moved in with him, since just looking at them freaked me out. I mean, he’s taken them out again now. ‘Cause it’s a bit better. But I can’t...can’t go home, or into any house that’s even a bit similar to that place, can’t spend too much time inside...” He trailed off. “You...don’t remember anything?”

Marvin hummed, leaning his head back against the wall. “‘T’s strange for me. I don’...I don’ remember how I got here. To the...the ‘when,’ I mean. But I...I’m startin’ t t’ink that...he’s the reason for that.”

“Like...he brought you to the present?” Jackie asked.

“No.” Marvin shook his head a bit, but gave up, wincing a bit. Jackie guessed a headache or something that made the motion worse. “I don’ t’ink he coul’ do t’at. It...it doesn’ really fit him, or...or what he can do. Y’know? But...after I got here, however t’at happened, I...I t’ink I ran into him. A-an’ he decided someone so confused woul’ be an easy target.” He paused for a moment, just breathing. Jackie waited patiently. “I didn’...didn’ r’member any of t’is at first. I forgot ev’ryt’ing between bein’ home, and meeting Jems. But...when I go to sleep, I remember. In my dreams.”

“Well...that can happen sometimes,” Jackie said slowly. “Your brain can block out upsetting stuff. And having nightmares about what happened to you is a common trauma response. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

“No, no, I know t’at, but it’s...diff’rent for me,” Marvin insisted. “It’s all...too clear. Like it’s happenin’ for the first time. And...I know the dreams r’lly happened, because...I have scars...that match up.”

At that, Jackie glanced down at Marvin’s arms. He’d noticed the scars before, but hadn’t really thought too much about them. Maybe that said something about him as a friend. Or maybe he just didn’t want to pry. But they definitely existed. Most of them were short lines, probably caused by something sharp, but there were also a few burn scars on Marvin’s upper arms. They were all usually covered by his shirt. Jackie suddenly made a connection. “Is that why you always wear long sleeves?”

“Don’ t’ink so,” Marvin mumbled. “Everyt’ing I say, about proper dress and wantin’ t’keep to a routine and not wantin’ any random people grabbin’ my arm...that’s all true. But...maybe it is a reason, but I jus’ don’ realize it. Is that why you wear your jacket all the time now?”

“Hmm.” Jackie tugged at the cuffs of his hoodie. “No. I mean, it’s related. I just...” He paused, getting his thoughts together. “I didn’t have this while I was with him. I-I left it behind. Or...he did, when he showed up. So it’s just...a reminder that it’s all safe now.”

“Reminder,” Marvin repeated, and nodded, once. 

Jackie let out a long exhale. It was really easy to talk to Marvin about all this. He’d had to work up to sharing details like this with his therapist, but now, he was letting them spill. It must have been because he knew Marvin would understand. “I guess if you don’t remember anything, you don’t need a reminder. Right? Ha. I-I wish I didn’t remember.”

Marvin pressed a hand to his head, as if he could feel the empty spots where the missing memories were supposed to be. “I don’ know. I think...I think I’d rather jus’ know. Because...he must’ve done it. He must’ve made me forget. But...why? For what? What’s the purpose? Is there...somet’ing I still don’ know? T’at he wanted to keep secret?”

“Huh. I...didn’t think of that.” Jackie frowned. “You’re right.”

“T’ere’s a lot missing. I’ve dreamt about how...about how we met, but how’d I get out? I dreamt him takin’ my set of playin’ cards, but...why do I feel...they were so important? More t’an just bein’ mine, I mean. And what...what did I do?” Marvin said that last part in a hushed tone.

Jackie stared at him. Then he stood, took a few steps closer to Marvin, and sat back down on the bed, now next to Marvin. He leaned against the headboard instead of sitting on the edge, so the two of them were mirroring each other, side by side. It wasn’t particularly comfortable. The bed was narrow, so he had to sit very close to Marvin, still burning with fever. But...he wanted to. And Marvin didn’t protest. “If you did anything, it wasn’t your fault,” Jackie said softly. “You can’t...do anything in that state.”

Marvin rubbed his eyes. They were starting to water. “You...know?”

Jackie nodded silently.

Taking a shaky breath, Marvin asked, “What...h-how bad...were the things he...made you...?”

After a long moment, Jackie replied. “No one died. But...some were hurt. I think...if I stayed there any longer, it would’ve gotten worse.” He had to stop for a moment. He’d...never told anyone about that. “But it’s...it’s not our fault. It’s Distorter’s. We called him that because he distorts thought, a-and that’s exactly what he did. We aren’t those thoughts he put there, o-or the actions he caused.”

Marvin couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He buried his face in his hands, but Jackie caught a glimpse of them flowing before he could hide them entirely. “I jus’...wish I coul’ remember.” A sob caught in this throat. “I remember feelin’ horrible, I remember screamin’ at him for what he made me do, I remember tryin’ to fight against it...but I don’ remember what I did. I t’ink...I might dream the memory one day. A-an’ I...don’ know...how I’ll react.”

Jackie leaned against him. Reaching up, he took Marvin’s wrist and slowly pulled his hand away from his face, revealing the tear stains and bloodshot eyes. “We aren’t those thoughts,” he repeated, quietly, but firmly. “Those actions weren’t us.”

Marvin stared at him. Then nodded. He looked away. “Will you...stay? For a while?”

“Of course.”

The two of them sat in silence for a long while, the night stretched before them.

——————— 

The next morning, Jackie woke up to the familiar sounds of someone making breakfast. He opened his eyes and sat up, wincing a bit at the ache in his side and neck. The sofa was clearly designed for sitting, not sleeping. He stretched to try and make it better, then stood and went into the kitchen.

JJ was the one cooking. He waved at Jackie, then asked him for help carrying food to Marvin, still in bed. Jackie agreed and the two of them went down the hall.

Marvin was awake. Sitting up, in fact, with Fluffington in his lap. He thanked the two of them for breakfast. While he ate, Jackie gave him a quick check-up, taking his temperature and asking him basic questions. The fever had distinctly died down, and Marvin reported that he felt really tired, but not nauseous, and he could breathe easier. Jackie and JJ were both immediately relieved.

“So it’s just a cold, then,” Jackie concluded, relaxing for the first time in a full day. “Sorry about all the trouble, you two.”

“Eh, better safe t’an sorry, right?” Marvin shrugged. “And ‘t was...nice to have you over.”

Jackie gave him a gentle smile. Then he said, “I’ll be going now, then. It was nice to be over, too. Though sleeping on the sofa kind of sucked.”

Well you’re wearing jeans, JJ pointed out.

“That’s not a problem, I sleep in jeans a lot.”

What?! JJ gasped, looking personally offended. Jackie, you didn’t tell me you were absolutely out of your mind! How can that be comfortable?!

Jackie laughed. “You get used to it.”

“No, ‘m with Jems on t’is one,” Marvin said, his words slightly muffled as he was speaking into his cup of apple juice.

“I used to take long night shifts at the hospital years ago, and I was so tired that I didn’t even bother to get into pajamas when I got home,” Jackie defended himself. “I mean, I don’t have night shifts anymore, but that’s still a leftover quirk.”

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Didn’ ye say you had to go?”

“Yeah, I told Volt I’d be back in the morning before he went to work at ten. I’ll tell him how you’re doing, by the way. Anti, too.”

“T’anks.” Marvin looked at him. “For...ev’ryt’ing. Be seein’ you.”

“Be seeing you,” Jackie repeated. “And thank you. Goodbye.”

JJ looked confused. He followed Jackie as he headed down the hall to the front door. Before he could leave, he asked, Did something happen?

“Oh. Uhh we had a talk last night,” Jackie said. “About some...serious stuff.”

Ah. I won’t pry, then, JJ said, backing off. Hey, Jackie. Thanks for coming over and staying and everything. I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience.

“It’s never an inconvenience to help a friend. Or, you know, even if there wasn’t a problem, I’d be happy to stay over any time.” Jackie laughed a bit. “Just gotta prepare a bit better next time. Get an air mattress.”

JJ smiled. Still, thank you. It...it really means a lot, you know? I’m sure Marvin’s glad you stop by to check on him when he’s sick, even when he protests. But remember to take care of yourself too, you know?

Jackie nodded. “Thanks, J. I will. But you have to remember that, too. I know you’re busy with your show and now Marvin’s sick and everything, but keep your stress levels down. You worry a lot about everyone else. Might spread yourself too thin.”

JJ sighed. It...has happened before. I’ll try.

“No, you won’t try. You will take care of yourself. Or let Marvin or one of us do it.”

Alright, I get the point, JJ smiled a bit. Hey, by the way, the show starts in January. Opening night is New Year’s Day, actually. You and Henrik and Anti can come see it for free, if you want. The families, too.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Jackie said cheerfully. Rama and Michelle would probably like that. “I’ll see you later, then?”

See you later. Bye, Jackie.

“Bye, JJ.”

Jackie headed out, hurrying to his car, still parked where he left it last night. A few loose snowflakes started to fall from the sky as he climbed inside and turned on the heater. 

That was...a night. An unexpected one, but...one he needed. He reflected on it as he started to drive away. Then, he took the turn that would take him to Rama and Michelle’s house—his house. There was still time before he said he’d be back at Schneep’s apartment. He wanted to be with his family again.

[hobisbeech]

Even the drug dealer likes you | K.T

Stoner!Reader and StonerBFF! Taehyung talk about readers dry spells.

Posted: 03/29/2021

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[y/n] laid on her bed, scrolling through the app as her hair tangled up on her pillow. She had been intrigued by this fan fiction story she had found on tumblr. Her favorite kpop idol was written in a best friend to lovers aspect. She cooed over the cover picture. Pining over the one person she knew would never even know she existed.

Letting out an exasperated whimper, [y/n] scrolled down slowly reading:

(Kpop idols name) had been watching you, dancing ridiculously in front of him. In his living room, on his big screen TV, was a live stream of (your fav artist name) performing all of their top hits. [y/n] glanced back making sure her best friend was enjoying his time just as much as she was. He stood up, taking a few steps to reach her. He slid his arms around her waist from behind, startling her with his actions. “Oh gosh! You scared me doofus!” [y/n] turned around quickly slapping him harshly on his arm. A small rumble of a laugh escaped his throat. He grabbed you again, now pushing you closer to his chest, his hands once again landing around your waist.

You scoffed at the action, how could she just fall for that trick, you thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as you turned to your side, hugging the small decorative pillow to your chest. Knowing very well why the writer wrote this cheesy scene. You screeched, your voice instantly reaching a new level of highness. You knew from a readers point of view, this was exactly what you wanted. The concept had you eating from the palm of their hands and you did not mind at all. At least, you never exactly admitted it. You were a sucker for love. You knew that no one or nothing was going to change that. You huffed, this time it’ll be different. This time I will be strong. You looked back at your screen and continued reading:

“What do you think you’re doing?” [y/n] with doe eyes looked up, nervous at what her best friend was thinking of doing. (Kpop idols name) looked at her, a small hint of embarrassment showing on his cheeks. He looked away, he cursed at himself internally. Get it together man, he thought to himself. He mustered the courage to look at her again, he placed his index finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now. How crazy you make me. I go to sleep thinking about you. And I wake up to the thought of you.” He caressed your cheek, and with his arm around your waist he pulled you in closer to him.

He looked straight into your eyes, lustfully gazing into them, he whispered “Can I kiss you, jagi?”

You groaned loudly. This was just a very very cheesy story. You rolled your eyes dramatically, and laid on your back. “Ugh! Why do I always read these?!” You rubbed at your face, dropping your phone on your side. “They only make me feel even lonelier..” you exasperated, spacing out with just a blank stare up at the ceiling fan. You couldn’t believe that once again you were in this predicament. You laid there thinking about what had happened to you the weekend before. With a scowl on your face, you groaned again feeling hopeless about your non existent sex life. And the invincible blue balls that pulsed loudly in between your thighs.

—————-

—————-

The guy you had been talking to had invited you over to hang out one day. Knowing how your conversations with him had taken a turn to SEX-ville. You had made sure to prep the day before. Making sure whatever needed to be shaven and trimmed, was. You made sure you wore your best outfit, and also the easiest to take off. When you had arrived at his place, everything seemed as if it was going according to plan.

You both had rolled a blunt to have a smoke session together. And had a comedy movie playing in the background. You sat comfortably on his living room couch, lighting the blunt you had just finished rolling. Taking a few hits from it you passed it to him. The night had just settled in and the blunts were now nothing but small roaches that were put out on the ashtray that laid lazily on the over beaten coffee table.

The handsome guy had turned his gaze to you, lazily tracing small circles on your exposed knee. Your now low and bloodshot eyes, looked at him. With a small smile, he leaned closer. Leaving the smallest of space between you both. You could feel his breath settle and then fade from your lips. You knew you couldn’t deny him, so you made the first move. Closing the space between you both with a kiss. He snaked his hand behind your neck, keeping you steady. Not wanting to break the kiss, he began slowly caressing your body. Pinching your nipples through your blouse. He engulfed your small/medium/large breast in his large hand.

You whimpered in between kisses.

Leaning your head back, breaking the kiss, “That feels so good. It would feel better if I took my shirt off.” As you were reaching for the bottom hem of your blouse he stopped you. “I’m sorry, [y/n]. I know this got heated so fast but I can’t really do anything tonight. I have work in a few hours. I hope you understand.” This was the 3rd friggin’ time he had pulled that meaningless excuse on you, you internally scowled.

“Yeah yeah totally. I get it.” You sighed, with a small smile you adjusted your shirt and flattened it down to get rid of some of the wrinkles.

“Are you sure [y/n]? I hope I didn’t send any mix signals or anything?” He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling a bit of shame, his cheeks blooming with a soft pink for leaving you high and bothered. Mix signals?! You screamed internally.

You shrugged him off and smiled, “yeah definitely. We’re good. What time is it?” You asked, feeling your hands fiddle with the end of your blouse. “Oh uh,” he anxiously tapped at his phone screen. “It’s 9:30pm.”

“Oh okay cool, I’ll go ahead and skedaddle then,”

you nervously chuckled.

You both stood up quickly. He nervously laughed, and with a faint blush on his face, he handed you your purse and keys that you had aimlessly thrown on his couch when you had first arrived. “Thank you,” you said with a small bow. He smiled at you again now a little brighter.

“I’ll walk you out,” he informed you as he stepped in front of you. You followed him, with your head bowed and a blush that threatened to appear. He opened the door and moved to the side so you had room to exit. You looked back at him once again and he waved you goodbye. You walked away as quickly as possible, not hearing him call out to you that he had a great time. You unlocked your car and hopped in. Turning your engine on as quickly as possible, you burned off. Leaving behind black streaks from the burned rubber of your tires on the road.

Could this night get any worse? You thought to yourself.

____________

____________

“[y/n-ahh]” your best friend loudly yelled from your living room. “What time was the plug gonna come and drop off ? I wanna smoke already,” he whined, leaning his head back on the couch. His long bangs falling awkwardly around his face.

You chuckled, and quickly checked your phone. You grabbed your closed packaged cigarillos from your top drawer in your bedroom and, scanned for the text message from your weed man telling you how far he was from your place.

Stepping into the living room, you dropped yourself beside him. With a smile you answered your handsome best friend, “He should be here in a few mins. He doesn’t live far, Taehyung.”

Your brown mullet haired friend huffed, dropping his hand on your thigh heavily. “Gosh, it sounds like he’s never gonna make it here,” you chuckled, placing your hand under his chin and scratching at his now 2 week old scruff.

You rolled your eyes, “dude we literally smoked this morning. How could you possibly be this needy now?”

Taehyung raised his head and gave you a knowing look, “you’re one to talk!” He spatted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Taehyung had a long list of things that could possibly make him needy but this wasn’t one of them.

“Why can’t I just get laid? Why doesn’t anyone want my pussy?” He whined in his best impression of you. When he was done he gave you another knowing look. “Hey! That’s not fair!” You yelled back, “at least I don’t brag about how many cheeks I’ve clapped this week.”

You sulked this time, crossing your own arms in front of you. You didn’t turn to look at your best friend. If you had, you would’ve seen the mischievous smirk on his face. He loved it when you sulked. Just watching you pout and be upset about something was one of many things he liked about you.

In fact, he could practically see himself with you. But he couldn’t tell you that. Of course not. Who the fuck knows how you would react if he was to ever confess to you how much he liked you. Scratch that. How inlove he was with you, his best friend. Before, he could continue on this tangent he had unconsciously dug himself in, you abruptly moved. Standing up from the spot that was slowly molding into you.

You opened your door, seeing your weed man, Yoongi, awkwardly standing there waiting with expectant eyes. You smiled, “hey man! Thank you so much for this. Best friend over there is having a cow because I supposedly finished our weed this morning. When in fact he smoked the last of it with me.” You told your plug, grabbing the money you owed him from your pocket. You quickly glanced back, sticking your tongue out at Taehyung. Your black haired friend, chuckled looking behind you at Taehyung, whom he had met a handful of times. “No worries man, I tell jagi all the time, a friend with weed is a friend indeed. Enjoy man! This is some fire shit.” With a smirk on his face, he winks at you, “bye jagi, let me know how you like this. I’ll catch you later.” Before you could even muster a response he was already halfway down your hallway leaving you with only a silhouette to make out.

You slowly closed your front door, absentmindedly locking it. “Did my plug just flirt with me?” You questionably looked at Taehyung. Taehyung was still in shock that even your weed man was throwing moves at you. He shook the thoughts away.

“wow ! [y/n] he probably likes you. He even told you to let him know if you liked his weed,” Taehyung, quickly smiled and as quick as his smile came it left his bronzed face. He snatched the medium sandwich bag from your hand, “thank you oh so much my dear [y/n]”

“Oh hush up and just roll us a blunt. I’ve had it rough these past couple of days.” You inform him, shrugging off any hint of annoyance your best friend was giving off. Taehyung made himself comfortable on the couch again, reaching for your new blue grinder you had recently purchased. He didn’t say anything else to you, letting the comfortable silence swallow you both.

Taehyung had managed to roll 4 blunts and still left weed for you guys to smoke at a later time. You had started playing some soft (genre) music you and Taehyung could enjoy. You relaxed into the couch and sparked up the first blunt. You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times and passed it to him.

“Tae why is it that I can’t get laid?” You randomly asked your best friend, laying your head back. “I mean let me elaborate. Why is it that I can’t just have a good fuck? It feels like I have to go through an obstacle course just to get a guy to notice me.” You ranted to your best friend, grabbing the blunt between your index finger.

“I think the guys get too intimidated with how easy going you are. And feel like they’re not good enough for you.” Taehyung responds, twisting his body to face you as he exhaled the rest of the smoke he had in his mouth.

You turned your face to him, “what do you mean? Isn’t that a good thing ? That I can just go with the flow,” you added, dropping your gaze and taking a hit from the blunt he had passed to you. Taehyung smirked, he scooted closer to you placing his hand as gently as possible on your cheek. “My dear jagi, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You tolerate me, you don’t really complain when I rant to you, you listen to me when I rant about the girls I’ve talked to, and even scratch my hair whenever I ask. Like come on best friend ! You are the whole package. You even cook food for us, for when the munchies hit.” He explained, listing the reasons one by one of why you were the best person you could possibly be.

Feeling the high rush to your head, you chuckled lightly, as you took a couple more hits from the blunt and passed it to your brown mullet haired friend. “Taehyung-ie can I ask you something?” You quirked up, leaning closer to him, your shoulders resting on one another. He nodded, exhaling the smoke he had just inhaled. “If you didn’t know me personally, would you smash me?” You asked, looking down quickly, not wanting Taehyung to see how red you were getting.

He coughed, and coughed some more. It had taken him about a minute or two and some water for him to stabilize himself from all the coughing. You looked at him again, “I shouldn’t have asked that. You practically almost died on me,” you dropped your gaze, you hadn’t meant to make your best friend uncomfortable. You just thought since both minds were foggy now he would just see it as a funny question. He probably didn’t even see me like that, you thought to yourself.

“Wait wait wait..” Taehyung spoke, he scooted closer to you. Intertwining both your hands with his, he laid them in his lap. The small smoken nub of a blunt long forgotten on the ashtray placed on the coffee table. Looking straight into your bloodshot eyes, he smiled. “Babygirl, I love you. And if you ever gave me the chance I would in a heartbeat jump your bones.” He kept his eyes locked on you, “and I mean it,” his voice had dropped an octave. Sounding a bit more deep and lustful.

You only heard that voice when both of you would fall asleep together and he would try to wake you up in the morning to ask you where you had your tea bags. Most of the time he was just a big fluff ball that loved flirting with you. Your thumb absentmindedly rubbed at the back of his hand.

“Would you ever let me?” He softly asked you, the words coming out as a slight whisper. He looked down at your entwined hands and smiled.

You observed him, did your best friend like you like that? How long has he had these thoughts? Did you like him like that? Or was it just the fact that you hadn’t had any luck in the guy department and Taehyung was offering? You shook the thoughts away. “Would I let you?” You hesitantly repeated his question, he nodded giving you one of his knowing smiles.

“Yeah, I would.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulged out, he didn’t believe you.

“No cap?”

You chuckled, shaking your head slightly “yessir.”

Instantly Taehyung jumped on you pushing you back, to lay on the couch. He was now on top of you. His thighs straddling your lap. He chuckled, wrapping his arms under your shoulders, he placed his head on the crook of your neck and you lovingly wrapped your arms over his broad shoulders. He snuggled into you, “jagi I’m sorry that that guy gave you blue balls. I can help you if you need some release.” He suggested not daring to look up at you.

You stiffened, wow Tae was just coming out with so many surprises. How on earth could he help you? you didn’t necessarily want an answer to that question. “Um uh- Tae wouldn’t that ruin our friendship or something? I don’t want you to look at me any different.” You hid your gaze behind his hair, your hand had sneaked into his locks and just scratched away at your worries. Taehyung propped himself up, caging your head between his forearms. “Jagi I will never look at you differently. You are my best friend for crying out loud. You’ve seen me naked, and I’ve seen you naked,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you his crackhead signature smirk.

“Taehyung! Stop!”

You playfully yelled at him, smacking his arm.

“Anyways, before I was rudely interrupted,” he nipped at your neck.

“I was saying,” he bit lower under your ear.

He lowered his voice to a lustrous whisper, with a deep tone he spoke, “I’ve always daydreamed what it would be like to finally have you under me.” He exhaled a deep breath fanning over your exposed neck.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have you quiver under me, to have you beg me for more,” once again his voice timbered out his mouth, violating your ears. Intruding your every thought, you were getting turned on.

“Tae,” you whimpered looking up at him.

His eyes were glossy from the smoke, but they also showed love.

Love for you is all he had, a ginormous amount of nothing but love. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked you, searching your eyes for any discomfort. You shake your head no. “I love you Taehyung, and I would love you even more if you showed me what else that mouth of yours can do.” Your devilish voice had made an appearance, wiggling your eyebrows at him, you smirked.

“Oh?” Taehyung laughed, dropping his head on the crook of your neck again.

“Oh yeah? You wanna see how my tongue would feel on your precious cunt?”

His tongue had trailed a soft wet line from the crook of your neck all the way up to your earlobe. He had sucked on the skin taking it in between his teeth.

Your body shivered, revealing small goosebumps. “Yes I wanna know how you would touch me. I want you to tell me Tae.” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together. His voice alone was turning you the fuck on. Taehyung couldn’t believe it. Maybe it was because he was stoned like no other and he tended to drift off in day dream land from time to time.

He sat up on his bent knees. He slowly took his t-shirt off letting it fall beside him. He reached down for yours, “may I?” He asked you. You nodded smiling up at him as he reached to take your shirt off. Letting it drop beside you.

He whistled,

“wow, ladies and gentlemen jagi did not have a bra under that shirt,”

he reached for your breasts kneading at them both softly.

“I remember the times you would walk around in just a t-shirt and panties,”

He let out a deep full husk groan.

“It was the most magnificent sight, I ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on.” With his thumb he rubbed at your nipple until it perked up on its own. You whined, the feeling that was exuding from his touch was enticing.

His voice and his words were enchanting you. The way Taehyung's voice would bounce around between the walls in your living room. Was impeccable. You had no idea how much power his tone held. It made your insides tremble. All you wanted now was for Tae’s tongue to finally make contact with your cunt.

“Taeee, please!” you whimpered, your body squirming underneath him. It was instant, like a switch had turned on within him. He pinned you down, holding your arms beside your head. He had his knee pushing up your core. Your legs instantly spread open for him.

“Tsk tsk tsk, who’s the needy one now?” He lowered his voice and whispered into your ear. “I can already tell you are wet just by the sound of my voice,” his deep voice bluntly stated.

You couldn’t help but move, you wanted nothing but friction. Something to just release you if only for a moment. His thigh stayed still between you. You could feel your vagina folds rub against the fabric of your underwear. Wetter and wetter it got.

“Is my jagi trying to rub herself against my thigh?”

He asked, tilting his head sideways with a small flirty grin on his face.

[y/n] exasperated, you couldn’t believe that this moment was actually happening. Your body was burning for Taehyung’s touch. You wanted him to just touch you. Caress your skin. Feel the amble of your breasts. Run his fingernails down your chest. You wanted his long fingers trail down and douse in your essence. You wanted him to fill you up with his digits. Make you unravel with just his precious fingers. You stared into his eyes, they were now a dark glossy brown. His pupils had been dilated due to the amount of marijuana he had smoked. He was intoxicating. You could feel this heat type of energy radiating off of him. Every time his hand would touch you, it burned. Your body was exuding heat, your thoughts twirled in your mind. His essence had completely taken over you. You had submitted to your best friend, you were ready for him.

“Taehyung please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me.” You whined through gritted teeth. You couldn’t take it anymore and absentmindedly grinded against his thigh. Feeling the pressure from his knee on your clothed core, it felt great. But it wasn’t enough, you needed to come undone connected.

Taehyung looked down at his knee, the sight his eyes had set on, was mouth watering. Seeing you, a whining mess grinding on his knee, was the last straw for him. He grabbed your thigh, stopping you. He grabbed your sweats and underwear roughly pulled them down. You moved your hips upwards and let him finish undressing you. He continued by unriddening himself of his pants, pushing his boxers down with them.

He pumped himself a couple of times using his own pre cum as lubricant. Just watching you, fully exposed in front of him made him crazy. He aligned himself in front of your entrance. Picking up one of your thighs for more leverage. He looked down at you, his gaze softer now. His eyebrows furrowed, he whispered, “you can tell me to get off at any time and we’ll stop.” He searched your eyes for a minute for any discomfort you might’ve been experiencing.

You smiled, raising your hand to softly caress his cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to take care of me. I love you so much, but Taehyung baby I’m gonna need you to fuck me into this couch.” You stated brusquely, grabbing on to his waist and pulled him into you.

You moaned loudly looking into Taehyung’s eyes as his face contorted, dropping to his forearms around your head. Your legs had wrapped nicely around his waist holding him still in this position.

“Ohhh fuck jagi you’re even wetter than I thought. A-are you okay for me to move?” He asked, staring back at you.

You smirked, wrapping your arms around him, “go to town baby.”

____________

____________

A couple orgasms later, you were both nakedly sprawled out on the couch. Out of breath and slightly sweaty. You both looked at each other lovingly. His dorky boxy smile on full display. Not wanting to move he scooted his hand closer to yours. Sending you a knowing look to take his hand in yours. You returned his smile, a blush sneaking to your cheeks.

So many thoughts had run through your mind. This handsome man that you had met so long ago. Who you became close to overtime. Was gazing at you stupidly in love. You probably didn’t know what was going to happen next.

But one thing for sure,

Taehyung might be your quirky best friend, that needs your full attention at all times.

At the end he was the one that had your legs trembling, and screaming his name. You were the lucky one in this happy ending.

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

Christmas Video Game Roundup 2021

all these are on steam for the record; additionally games get downgraded for being explicitly grindy; this doesn’t mean I personally like them less; I have a lot of time to fill after all, but at the end of the day I trend towards games that keep my attention for longer and I feel that’s unfair to the games that are just trying to tell a story without bloating the game up.

Roguelites are also seperated into their own category Because Fuck Me I Am So SIck Of This Shit but I keep playing and enjoying them despite this so we’ll rate them separately. Stop making roguelites. I don’t think I’ve fully completed even one of them and Binding of Issac came out like what 10 years ago? God.

#1 Sakuna: Of Rice and Ruin - I forget how I found out about this game but I bought it primarily on the fact that it looked sort’ve like Muramasa: The Demon Blade because I’m just lost in the forest and looking for that game all the time apparently; I was wrong, but it’s very good anyway

Side scrolling action platformer, you get materials from little gathering spots in the stages (you just whack them with a weapon to gather), these materials are used to build things in your base and craft gear, there is a farming system which serves to power you up (Sakuna is an agriculture deity; I have no idea if this is true in real life) and feed your little human helpers; additionally there’s cooking which provides temporary passives and permenant(?) stat ups, aditionally the farming is pretty involved and requires you to revisit the plot frequently or risk the rice getting crowded out by weeds or whathaveyou

the action is still definitely the main focus but I was surprised with the farming aspect, it seems like it’s got a lot to it

#2 Rhythm Doctor - One button rhythm game with a medical theme, there’s a plot and a bunch of soundcloud musicians made music for the game (or had their music used for the game?) so that’s pretty good. The plot also addresses issues with politics in health care though by and large they’re a plot device and any accuracy is more due to how comically one dimensional that issue is (the politician in question legitimately has a devil tail for god’s sake; why does this make sense)

the game also does some weird shit with the game window and graphics for the aforementioned plot and honestly some of the stunts it pulled were neat and also visually distressing so if you’ve got epilepsy you might skip this; I Did enjoy it (and beat it in one night) though! More plot coming as it’s in early access. Also there’s a two player system where you do two songs at once? Which seems neat, but they’re still working on it.

#3 Teocida (and to a lesser extent its prequel Tamashii, very similar games) - Puzzle platformer with heavy occult symbolism and theming, along with a more obvious horror theme. Teocida has some potentially distressing imagery, the game tells you about it, I’d take it seriously. Very HR Geiger. Tamashii is mostly your average tooth and blood and gore and corpse and meat game, though it establishes a tone very well and presents a religious themed plot surprisingly competently.

Tamashii has jump scares, Teocida does not.

#5 Monster Rancher 1&2 DX (Grindy; below rhythm doctor without the Grind Demotion) - first; Did I buy this because of Jerma? A little bit, but I missed monster rancher as a kid as I never owned a PSX so I was also interested to see how sony did the pokemon thing; pretty well it turns out, I’m already stuck in and I like the focus on developing a monster moreso then traversing an RPG plot

for those unfamiliar; you spend weeks on training your monster, managing their stress and energy levels, and there are some little exploratory walkaround segments too; by and large this is a game about climbing the tournament progression ladder with minimal plot, and unlocking stuff, also with minimal plot. Also you can get monsters out of an audio library packed into the game so that’s pretty cool (the actual songs aren’t there, it pulls them from the internet or something? online database koei tecmo is managing? I dunno; they’re probably not in the files though for obvious reasons), so if you’re looking for something a bit more focused on the monsters then pokemon this might be what you’re up for.

#6 Earth Defense Force 4.1: The Shadow Of New Despair (Grindy; below Teocida&Tamashii without the Grind Demotion) - If this sounds like a B movie that’s intentional! Long running japanese Dynasty Warriors esque game where you play as a military man shooting up giant bug aliens (and also giant alien spaceships; they are breeding the bugs to put them on the earth for some reason; a full explanation is never provided, if you want one this may not be your game). Being japanese there are four classes, standard Guy With Gun, Woman With Jet Wings That Flies Around, Guy With Huge Backpack That Drops Tanks And Shit That You Can Drive Around In (also giant robots), and Guy With Melee Weapons And Big Heavy Armor. There’s honestly not a lot of nuance, but you do get all sorts of crazy weapons (mostly on the Not Generic Guy With Gun side of things) and it is very multiplayer friendly.

5 has already come out but I was unsure if I’d like it, so I got the cheaper prequel. I do like it!

#7 Project Nimbus - for those keeping track at home I fucking Love Giant Robots and project nimbus, as an armored core-like seemed right up my alley; it’s unfortunately a very stiff game and slower then it probably should be. I think the base is solid but the lack of animation work and sub par voice acting (the actors misread and skip entire lines; this speeds through the skipped dialogue faster then you can read it) kinda killed it for me. I will probably play more at some point, but I don’t expect a sudden turnaround.

N/A Rain World - this game was doing a lot of weird shit that I wasn’t prepared for and I dropped it almost immediately; I think it’s probably good, I just have to be in the mood for it. I was like catching bugs and eating them and crawling into a weird artificial space to take a nap and like just very odd game. I’m sure it’ll go places but I have no idea how much I’ll like them

Roguelite And Roguelite Adjacent Roundup: Why Are There So Many Of These Fuckers And Why Do I Like Some Of Them Regardless

#1 One Step From Eden - Remember Megaman Battle Network? It’s that with a whole new set of cards and some changes to the basic systems. Multiple characters, they all do different stuff and start with different decks, some of them have weird basic weapons, etc etc. Fun! Chaotic! I really enjoy it, but it’s riding hard on that megaman battle network recognition so I’d make sure you know what you’re getting into with that. Also multiplayer is great fun.

#2 Void Bastards - I bought this on a reccomendation from a pal. The art style is great, I love how the game presents itself, the art style is So Good, It’s more about ammo and resource management and it manages to set itself apart from conventional roguelites by doing this, and the art style is solid.

The concept is you’re raiding abandoned ships in a dead sector of space as a rehydrated felon serving out your sentence to a corporation Bla Bla Bla Capitalisitic Critique I Don’t Mind It But Fuck Me There’s That Plot Again, but the art is superb. On the downside the enemies are very simialr to one another (3-4 of them are just Guy That Shoots At You, one is a turret, another is an obnoxious thing that explodes if you walk near it), and the game starts feeling samey Really Quickly, which obviously sucks for a roguelite.

You do keep resources between games, this essentially amounts to permenant upgrades and new weapons as you progress. Time is also limited as you’re running on borrowed oxygen. There are little substations on the ships, sometimes you need to repower the ship, sometimes the ship’s power grid is on the fritz and will blink out periodically, sometimes there’s a radiation leak and you gotta go to the rad station to purge it, etc etc. Really neat! Really different! but it badly suffers from repetitive gameplay syndrome, even for a roguelite, unfortunately. Might be worth it if you’re really into setting and concept. I know sci fi just grabs a lot of people by the throat.

And the art is So Fucking Good, for real. There’s like comic book style transitions between character deaths, sound effects are shown on doors as like *clunk clunk* or whatver when an enemy is in that room (vital! you don’t want to waste ammo if you don’t have to), and the stylized art translates very well to the gameplay in general, and enhances it in many ways. Art is very good.

N/A Despot’s Game: Dystopian Army Builder - I bought this game just because it showed up on my steam front page and I make a habit of trying to support smaller devs when they give me a reasonable offer. Which explains why the genre snuck up on me.

It’s an autochess game, which I consider to be a roguelite adjacent because there’s already like 20 of them out and they’ve existed for a year. This is my first so I can’t really rate it as such. I like it! But I have no idea what I’m looking at in the grand scheme here.

The game kind’ve has early webcomic humor and honestly I sort’ve hate that. Pixel art is pretty solid though! But yeah. I get a lot of Despot’s Game: Dystopian Army Builder vibes out of this, because that’s the only autochess game I’ve played. You understand.

[samingtonwilson]

Apartment 8C - Chapter 4

The First, First Date

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: LANGUAGE, the use of marijuana/pot/weed/reefer/that loud

A/N: i had a bad thought while writing this chapter and i’m not going to share it with y’all because that might put y’all off this story. actually fuck it, i’ll share the thought. isn’t it so weird how obsessed we all are with love? like these are college students with so much more happening in their lives but they’re sitting around and always talking about love. and a lot of us do that shit too. weirdos. 

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky replies to it with a groan. A loud, I don’t give a fuck if the neighbors hear me kind of groan. 

Slumped on the couch, phone balanced on his stomach and remote control set on his thigh, he very nearly snarls. He doesn’t bother to pick up either electronic as he stands, letting his phone fall face down on the area rug while the remote knocks against its corner with a clang. 

His journey to the door is comprised less of steps and more of a slide, a glide, a bit of a skate. He’s thankful he kept his socks on and unlocks the door, eyes half-lidded and heavy head tilted back. “The delivery instructions said to text and leave the bag at the door, not to knock and make me get up.” 

“That how you talk to delivery people? They should ban your sorry ass from Doordash.” 

He straightens his head and glares at Steve— smirking, smug, smart ass Steve who holds a large brown paper bag in one hand and a six pack in the other. It somehow makes Bucky frown deeper. “You intercepted my delivery?” 

“And brought you beer,” he holds the cardboard case up and shakes it, smiling. 

That smile fades, however, when he pauses in thought for a moment. He frowns then, indignant. Pushes Bucky out of the way to cross the threshold into the apartment. “So, you know, you’re fuckin’ welcome, you ungrateful jerk.” 

A sigh and Bucky shuts the door. He watches as Steve appraises the room and feels no shame at the look of disgust on Steve’s face. Instead, he rolls his eyes when Steve fully faces him. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

“You clean out your fridge? It broken or something?” Steve asks. He sets the bag and beer onto the coffee table, shuts Bucky’s dead laptop that he hasn’t bothered to charge. Steve then places Bucky’s phone and the remote control on the couch and begins to gather the empty take out containers still cool from the refrigerator. 

Bucky grits his teeth at the sight. “Steve, just— What the hell are you doing?” 

“Picking all this shit up so we can eat and watch the game,” there’s a cheerful lilt through his words. He sends a smile Bucky’s way, humor in the blue of his eyes, as he passes to toss the containers into the trash. “Thanks for asking, Buck. What the hell are you doing?”  

“I—” Bucky still stands by the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in incredulity when Steve crosses to the couch once more and falls into the cushions with a sigh of relief. “Steve, I’m not in the mood today, man.” 

“In the mood for what?” The volume of the television is turned up, Steve hugs the elephant cushion to his chest. “You were gonna watch the game anyway, so was I. Might as well do that in the same place and eat a li’l somethin’ while we’re at it.” 

Bucky’s sigh is one of defeat. He takes steps back to the couch rather than skating over, and sits beside Steve with a mumbled, “I didn’t order anything with your fat head in mind.” 

Steve leans forward to pull the bag open, paper crinkling as he pulls a sandwich from the depths. He tosses what remains in the bag onto Bucky’s lap. “Stopped at a deli on the way here. Don’t know what the fuck you’re eating but it smelled like dog shit.” 

He smiles to himself. Wryly. “What deli you stop at?” 

“Shelsky's.” There’s pride in Steve’s voice. Arrogance in his posture. “I didn’t want to cheap out and settle for something worse.”

“That’s where I ordered from, you fucking snob.” 

“Must’ve ordered something nasty then.” 

A sarcastic hum of agreement and Bucky shakes his head. He narrows his eyes at the television as Steve flips through the channels in an attempt to find something more entertaining than the advertisements currently airing on Fox. “Why’re you really here?” 

“It’s Thursday night,” he replies, using a keychain to pop the cap on a bottle of beer. “Titans are playing the Jags.” 

“You don’t care about either of those teams.” 

Steve drops his smile now. He scowls and settles back on Fox, unsatisfied. “Can’t a guy eat a sandwich, drink a beer, and watch a game with a friend without the third degree?” 

“Couldn’t have done that with Sam?” 

“I do a variation of this with Sam almost every night. Wanted to spend time with you today.” 

“But—” 

“Buck, for shit’s sake, let me be here for you without making us both live through me saying why.” He reaches forward to pull another beer from the carton, placing it in Bucky’s lap, and slouches back against the soft grey velvet. “And if you wanna talk about it, I’m here for that, too.” 

“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky asks, more rhetorical than expecting an answer. 

There’s a pause as Bucky gazes at the television with practiced focus. His arms fold over his chest again. His knee bounces.

“She’s on a date,” he continues after the lull stretches for too long. “She was going to start dating eventually. I’m okay with it. Happy for her. T’Challa’s a good dude. Good looking, good soccer player. Smart. It’s nice. Good for her. I’m happy for her. She deserves someone like him. I’m happy for her. 

“He actually came to the door. Didn’t text her to meet him downstairs, didn’t show up empty-handed. We both know how uncomfortable she is with actual romantic gestures and I guess he knows, too, because he gave her a Ziploc of peaches like she had in class the day they met. It’s nice. He’s a good dude. I’m happy for her.”

Through the thick silence that falls over them, Steve blinks. “Christ, you know you just spoke for a minute straight without taking a breath? I think you said ‘I’m happy for her’ thirteen times.” 

Bucky’s inhale is loud and pointed, his exhale a huff. He’s no longer interested in eating the sandwich he’d ordered, suddenly full from all the leftovers he’d tucked into just minutes ago. All he wants is for Steve to leave. 

Well. That’s not all he wants. 

But it trumps his other desires. Momentarily. 

“I know you’re happy for her,” Steve says as Bucky parts his lips to tell the former off. Bucky shuts his mouth now, though. And just listens as Steve’s voice grows softer, eyes no longer dancing in humor. “But I know you’re fuckin’ miserable, too.” 

He knows there’s no point denying it. No point denying what’s so plainly written across his face. 

But he tries anyway. “M’not miserable. I’m ha—” 

“You can be both.” Steve, unwrapping the parchment from his sandwich, keeps his eyes on the television. “It’s possible to be happy for her but miserable at the idea of it all deep down. S’why I thought you might wanna move out.” 

“She’d still go on dates if I’d moved out.” 

“You wouldn’t have to watch her going on them.”

“I’m okay with her dating.”

“I’m okay with a lotta things, too. Doesn’t mean I wanna see it all happen in front of me.”

Bucky watches as Steve takes an impossibly large bite out of the sandwich, Russian dressing smearing over his lips. “I’ve got a date, too.” 

“Buck,” Steve’s mouth is full. Horribly so. And Bucky scowls at the sound of his thick voice. “This ain’t a date. Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you. I just don’t feel that way about you, man.” 

A sarcastic smile and even more dry laugh. “Shut the fuck up. I’m talking about Connie.” 

Steve scowls as he swallows. “That perky little brunette from the bar?” 

“Perky?” 

“I can just look at her and tell she was on her high school cheerleading squad.” Around another bite, he adds, “Seems nice enough, I guess.” 

“She is nice.” He pauses only to mumble more to himself, “And emotionally available.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and briefly looks at Bucky in skepticism. “What, you determined that from just a few days of talking?” 

“On the second day she told me she’s liked me since freshman year orientation.” He sighs your name then. Slowly. Laboriously. “She was somethin’ else entirely. You know how long it took her to admit she liked me?” 

Steve nods upwards and flips the channel when the commentators on the pregame show begin to argue. 

“Took her three months after we started dating to admit she liked me. And she never said it again after that.” 

Steve drags the back of his hand over his lips, wiping off a bit of stray dressing. In visible disgust, he wipes his hand on the discarded butcher paper. “Some people show their feelings rather than say them.” 

Bucky seems to smile at that. Unbeknownst to himself, there’s a slow grin spreading over his lips. 

He thinks of instances. Instances when silence would act as a wall but actions a wrecking ball. 

The morning after your third date when you’d tried your best— despite your absolute inability to cook— to make the breakfast he always orders at the diner in Astoria. 

The eggs were runny in places, burnt in others and the bacon was traumatically floppy under a layer of not-even-close-to rendered fat and added oil. You’d apologized as he scrubbed the pan and plates, bright yellow dish rag waving as you insisted repeatedly that you couldn’t live if you’d given the guy you’d only just begun to date salmonella. 

Independence day when you’d Irish-goodbyed from Steve’s birthday party only twenty minutes after arriving to steal away to the rooftop of Mama Wilson’s brownstone in Harlem. 

You’d said something about fireworks and pizza, a six-pack of beer already snagged off the kitchen counter. Played it off as Sam’s idea, his house keys in the pocket of the navy blue bomber jacket you’d “borrowed” from Bucky. Nothing about Bucky’s hatred of parties at the Rogers-Wilson residence, though. Not even a hint until he overheard your apologies to Sam’s mother for the intrusion— an apology you later denied, kissing him silly to make him forget any further questions. 

The week before you’d broken up— a week Bucky remembers less for the distance you’d successfully created— when you sought comfort in him after a long day. 

Your boots had been kicked off by the door, your bag and its contents scattered beside them. You’d tearfully slurred words together, words he barely caught, in explanation. Something about work, and school, and your mother’s unnecessary opinions about your major and future. Something which forced sobs from your chest as you set your head against his. You’d wrapped your arms around him tightly, the two of you huddled together on his worn barcalounger as he stroked your hair and pressed kisses to the crown of your head. 

It’s well after the game has ended— Steve vengefully chowing down on your once-hidden stash of This is for when I have my period chocolate, Bucky barely paying attention to the episode of The Office the two had resorted to watching— when you come home. 

Hair mussed, lips swollen with gloss smudged every which way, you stumble through the doorway with a laughed, “No more rule-breaking on the first date, T’Challa.” 

The door is shut and locked just as T’Challa begins to respond. You spin and press your back to it, still laughing but quietly, more to yourself. You open your mouth to greet Steve and Bucky, both looking at you in either confusion or amusement, but shut it as a knock at the door cuts you off. 

“I’ll call you,” T’Challa promises through the wood. There’s a chuckle laced through his words, a smile in his voice. 

Exaggeratedly, you scoff. Still grinning however. “Who calls?” 

“I do,” he replies without concern that your neighbors may complain about his volume. “And you’re gonna pick up.” 

“Oh, am I?” 

“Yeah, you are. ‘Night.”

You don’t respond beyond a hum and stand at the door until you’re sure he’s gone. A nod to yourself and you step away as you remove that navy blue bomber jacket to toss it onto the counter. You also toss a smile over your shoulder to Bucky. “You here just to eat my chocolate, Rogers?” 

“No,” Steve says without a glance in your direction. “I ate your ice cream, too.” 

You shut the freezer. Empty-handed. Frowning. “Your stomach’s just a bottomless pit, huh?” 

“I’m a growing boy.” 

“Have I told you how uncomfortable it makes me when you call your grown-ass self a boy?” you remark, settling for a bottle of water from the refrigerator. You pause before shutting the heavy steel door. “You clear out all the leftovers, too?” 

Steve peers at Bucky, the latter stuck in a thoughtful, sad stare, and nods. “Yeah. We’re all out of food at my place and I don’t get paid ‘til tomorrow night.” 

You’re frowning in consideration as you walk to the barcalounger and fall into it sideways, legs swung over the opposite armrest you’ve set your back against. “Fair enough. How was your day, Buck?” 

The question breaks him from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he blinks. Averts a steady gaze when you shift a bit to look at him. “The Jags won.” 

You smile. It’s warm, a little honeyed. “Is that good or bad?” 

“Neutral.” He can’t help but smile himself. It doesn’t even falter as he asks, “How was your date?”

A shrug. Your eyes narrow at Michael Scott as he attempts to toss pizza dough. “T’Challa got a large popcorn at the movies.” 

“Damn, he’s got money.” 

You laugh, startled. Bucky grins when you do, too. “That’s what I said! I also beat your high score at pinball in the theater arcade.” 

“Went on a date with a guy who’s got money, beat my pinball score. You’ve just had a magical day, haven’t you?” 

There’s a softness and affection in the way Bucky speaks and looks at you, your responding giggles just as sweet. Steve, sitting between the two of you, almost feels as if he’s intruding on something, an empathetic ache in his chest as he watches. “Explain the pinball thing.” 

“Bucky and I went to the movies last month and fucked around the arcade while waiting for our showtime. And he got so competitive.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “We ended up missing the movie because he was determined to beat the high score this poor kid had just set when we got there. Took him hours and, like, forty bucks in tokens.” 

“It didn’t take me hours.” 

“We got there in the afternoon and by the time we left, the employees were cleaning the popcorn machines,” your expression and tone leave no room for argument. “Only took me two hours.” 

Steve looks between you two, fighting the urge to scoff at the satisfaction in your eyes and the combination of annoyance and so much adoration in Bucky’s. “Two hours? You miss the movie again?” 

“No, I snuck out before the movie ended. Said I had to pee and went straight to the machine so none of the kids in our auditorium could take it before I got there.” You ignore Steve’s disappointed gaze. “T’Challa was confused and probably unhappy I made him sit there for so long while I played.”

“Probably unhappy?” 

“I didn’t ask.” A nonchalant shrug and you flash them a knowing smile. “Beating Bucky’s score was my priority so I could come in here and casually mention it like I’m not bragging only to bring it up everyday for the rest of his life.” 

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and, at the look you’re giving him, Bucky has to remind himself that the two of you are no longer in a relationship and he can’t just kiss the arrogance away. “Sucker.”

—

It’s a makeup caboodle. 

Pale pink and lime green. A tropical flower sticker pasted to the clasp. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle— deep magenta velvet in a neat bow. 

It’s unassuming. A little innocent looking. Like it should belong to a seventh grader in the nineties just learning how to use glitter eyeshadow and lip balm palettes. 

It’s when you pop it open, the mirror attachment springing up only to reflect Wanda’s skeptical features, that the pungent smell permeates throughout the kitchen and small living room. Skunky, but a little floral. 

A speckled glass pipe, multicolored glaze splattered over a white base, sits in the top compartment alongside a few toothpicks and a package of rolling papers. In the compartment directly below rests a round steel grinder, three-tiered and emblazoned with the engravement of a manufacturer’s name. 

The biggest compartment holds many small glass jars. Tiny mason jars you’d bought at a flea market. All different colors, all labeled with white circular stickers. 

Wanda sits up in her stool at the sight, pulls the caboodle toward herself and sifts through the jars. She removes three of the jars and looks at you with widened eyes. “You’re insane.” 

You shrug and take the grinder when she hands it to you. “I like being organized.” 

“You should see her room,” Bucky says as he shuts his bedroom door behind him, shoes in hand. He smiles at the two of you, beard freshly trimmed to just barely above stubble and eyes a bright blue. “Most organized mess I’ve ever seen.”

You nod, tearing a bit of the sour diesel bud apart to place carefully between the metal teeth in the topmost chamber. You smile at her from your spot atop the counter, legs folded and back pressed against the shelves behind you. “There’s a method to my madness, Wan. Hand me a toothpick.” 

She complies and removes a blue jar without a label. “What’s in this one?” 

“Blue dream. Jar’s blue and I ran out of stickers.” There’s a click as the lid is magnetically snapped back onto the grinder. You twist it to the left twice, then to the right once. “You picking her up or meeting her there?” 

Bucky, leant against the wall as he slips his shoes on, looks up. “What says ‘This is a real date, not a hookup’?” 

“Going to dinner and not having sex after.” 

He replies with a dry laugh and narrowed eyes. “Which of the two options— picking her up or meeting there— says that?” 

“Picking her up.” You tear the stem off the bottom of the bud and place it as a barrier over the hole in the pipe’s bowl. “Might be too late to tell her that now, though.” 

“Already told her I’d pick her up. I was just making sure I did the right thing.” You see his lips spread into a self-satisfied smirk when you finish filling the bowl. “Looks like I did.” 

You smile back, though sarcastically. “Girls like a little humility in the guys they date, you know.” 

“She’s liked me for three years now,” he says. He pulls on a jacket and pats every pocket on him to make sure he’s got his wallet and keys. “She knows what she’s herself getting into.” 

“Bucky, baby, I live with you and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.” 

Wanda snorts a laugh at that, taking the pipe and a bright pink lighter from you. 

Bucky’s eyes fall into a glare. “So normal first dates don’t end in sex?” 

“No, they don’t. Most people actually wait until after the third date. It’s, like, in the dating manual for successful relationships.” 

“Huh,” he breathes. He takes his phone when you remove it from the charger to pass it to him, smiling up at you. “Looks like we were doomed from the start.”

“Maybe.” You watch as Wanda exhales a steady stream of opaque smoke punctuated by a soft cough. You slide her bottle of water to her. “Or maybe we’re the exception to the rule. Apart, we should follow normal date conventions. But together, we were too hot to wait that long.” 

Wanda hands you the pipe and lighter. “What happened to humility?” 

Before sparking the lighter, you answer, “I’m not dating a girl.” 

Your next inhale, once you’ve adequately charred the top layer of pot, burns in your throat and you hold it in your chest. You smile at Bucky when he shoots you a sly grin, lips in a cirlce as you exhale. “Have fun. Don’t order the tiramisu. They skimp on the espresso.” 

He nods once and straightens his jacket. You watch as he unlocks the door, opens it, and steps through with a simple wave. Your eyes remain on the door even after it shuts. 

It isn’t until Wanda’s fingers brush yours that you break your stare. “What?” the question is nearly barked when she offers you a look of something eerily similar pity. 

“Nothing! You just— You look a little lovelorn.”

Your features crumple. “Ew. No, I don’t. I look amazing, you look lovelorn.” 

“Okay, Queen of the land Defensiva,” she mutters once she’s exhaled. “I’m just saying. You were staring at that door like you want to take it home to meet your mother.” 

“Maybe I do. It’s a nice color. I picked the yellow out myself.” 

“Nat told me about that night at the bar. About how Bucky flirted with that Connie chick right in front of you.” She watches as you take a hit and your head lolls back against the shelves. “That must have sucked.” 

“It did.” You trace the bumps on the ceiling and sigh. “But it’s okay. Larger picture, broad scheme of things. It’s okay.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

A shrug. You take a sip from your own bottle of water. “We’re both okay. We’re both moving on, we’re still able to be friends and roommates. I can sit here and watch him go on dates with her if that’s what it takes. A little pain for the larger cause.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Wanda takes a long drag. You break it as you muse, “Do we talk about this shit too much?” 

“Yeah, maybe. Should we order a pizza?” 

--

CHAPTER 5: ARE YOU OVERCOMPENSATING?

[reaperintheroses]

Like those foreign stars (JJ x reader)

Requested: Yes by @maybebanks Word Count: 4319 Warnings: underaged drinking, angst, fluff. UNWANTED SEXUAL ADVANCES (it gets stopped before it goes anywhere though), Mentions of blow jobs, JJ makes the reader uncomfortable on accident, swearing. Request: y/n is a part of the kook gang and at the cut beach party y/n wanders alone and rafe is touching her thigh and feeling her up, she is so scared and he asks for a bj and she says no . Later on JJ is high and mimics a bj w his blunt and jokes asking you or Kie for a bj. You get emotional and storm off but don’t let them see. They’re like “what’s the matter w her?” Then jj comes out her her and finds out what happened. Y/n is reluctant to tell tho but since jj likes her he is really sweet ig A/N: Hello, I am once again back with my first request!!! My requests are open so just send in whatever’s on your mind. This was actually betaed by my fiance because he’s a professor so he’s good at checking my writing. He just kind of skimmed over it though so if you notice anything let me know so I can fix it. The ending is kinda shitty tbh I’m not super proud of it. Gimme feedback though I love hearing from you all! Just something to say

The air smelled like alcohol, the beach, and bad decisions. Parties were never really your scene. Walking around you surveyed the crowd. You had the normal kooks and pouges on their opposite sides trying to act as if the other wasn’t there. The random tourists scattered all around, trying to make their evening worthwhile. Music was coming from somewhere on the beach but could barely be heard with the tide rushing in and out every few seconds. You saw the back of toppers head and sighed. If it wasn’t for his constant pushing you wouldn’t be here tonight and instead would probably be back home watching shitty T.V. Seeing the rest of his friends hanging around him laughing at the dumbest jokes you turned around trying to find a keg. Trying to focus surrounded by the smell of weed and the -exaggerated loud laughs of the flirting tourists made everything five times harder. Part of you kept thinking that it wasn’t too late to turn back. You could walk back to your car and drive off, make your own fun for the evening. Deciding that was probably the best course of action you started to make your way back to your car when you heard someone call out for you. “Hey Y/N wondering when you were going to show up.” You heard sand being kicked up around the beach and turned around. Topper was jogging towards you. Groaning internally you slapped on a fake smile and walked to him. “Hey Top, how’s it going,” you asked not really wanting an actual answer. He started talking about what annoying things the pogues were doing tonight and as soon as the words left his mouth you stopped listening. Glancing longingly over to the keg you wished you could escape Topper’s grip and go over to where your friends were handing out drinks. Topper follows your gaze and steers you over to where all of the kooks were sitting. “We just grabbed a bunch of random cups and brought them back over here so we didn’t have to keep on going back there for refills.” He explained mistaking your gaze. Sitting down on a large tree branch, you accepted a solo cup from a random girl. Sniffing before you took a sip you grimaced at the slightly bitter taste that you still weren’t used to yet. Glancing down at your feet you saw that Kelce had come to sit right next to you. Still wishing you were at home, you listened to all of the conversations around you while nursing the beer you had. Reaching down you slipped off your shoes and let the sand seep beneath your toes. Holding your cup up to your mouth you pulled back when nothing came out. Looking down you saw that you had drunk everything. Sighing, you handed the cup to the person next to you and stood up. Stretching you heard some of your joints crack. Glancing around you saw that no one paid you any attention. Shrugging you walked out of the cluster of kooks and made your way down to the beach.

Feeling the water paw at your toes, you looked at the sky and started trying to find constellations. Stuffing your hands into your pocket you turned around to see how far you had gotten from the party. Moving back around you looked out to the ocean, taking peace in the sound of the waves crashing into the shore. Looking up the beach you saw another large piece of driftwood. Walking up you took a seat and went back to looking at the ocean. Hearing someone take a seat next to you, you looked up. “Pretty isn’t it,” the sight of Rafe Cameron greeted you. You smiled slightly to not seem rude. “Yeah it is, can’t believe we get to live here.” You replied. Really you just wanted him to leave you alone. Moving your gaze back to the ocean, you hoped he would get the hint. Either be quiet and leave you alone or go back to the party. Apparently Rafe thought it was fine to make his own option and chose C. Bug you into having a conversation with him. He cleared his throat. “So have you done anything interesting this week,” he asked, keeping his eyes trained on you while you kept yours trained on the ocean. Thinking that if you just didn’t reply that maybe he would leave you alone. The only reason you even gave him the time of day was that the Camerons and the Y/L/Ns had been friends ever since you could remember. Your dad worked closely with Ward and you had been neighbors since you were ten. Their daughter Sarah was your age so you had always done things together, regardless of whether you liked each other or not. You used to hate her guts but the more time you were forced to spend together, the more you realized she wasn’t horrible and you didn’t mind hanging out with her every now and again. Though it was because of Sarah that you met your best friend though. You would always owe her for that. Kie was your partner in crime and she’s been there for you through it all. Kie had introduced you to the pogues aka your real friends. The people who at the end of the day you could go to who would get high with you and talk about nothing and everything. Then there was Rafe. Rafe always creeped you out. He always steered clear of you but from what you had heard from other people you needed to watch yourself around him.  

He nudged your shoulder with his. “Y/N did you hear what I said?” He asked. “Hm, oh no sorry.” You lied hoping you would convince him to leave you alone. Apparently not. He kept on chatting about himself and the pogues and how he wished this and that about them. You added in the occasional acknowledgment that you were listening. At this point, you just wanted to go home. In the middle of his sentence, your phone went off. It was probably Kie calling you and asking if you wanted to come back with the pogues at the end. You picked up your phone and unlocked it. You were in the middle of typing out a response when he snapped in front of your face. “Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said anger lacing his tone. “I’m sorry but this is important.” You lied hoping it would seem like you needed to go home. He moved his hand to your thigh. Putting your phone down you looked from his hand up to him with a face of confusion. He moved closer. He smelled like weed. He moved his other hand to your back. “Look I’m sorry I yelled,” so it was true what everyone said about him zero to one hundred in a second and then back again. He started moving his hand up your thigh slowly as if he was trying to seem discreet. Looking back out to the ocean you tried to ignore it. His fingers skimmed the hem of your shorts while his other hand fluttered around the back of your neck. He got really close to your ear. “How about we both get out of here and head back to my place,” Now that you could hear him clearly you could tell that he had been drinking by his tone. “I need to stay here, I’m my friend’s ride home.” You once again lied. Maybe that would convince him to let you leave. He looked like he was contemplating something. Your phone went off again. “That’s probably her I should go,” you continued to drop hints that you weren’t interested. “Oh come on, stay for a while.” He was starting to scare you. One of his hands reached your neck. Trying to calm down you knew that this could go south at the flip of a dime. Trying to stay calm you started to think of things you could say to getaway. You started to open your mouth when he cut you off before you could even say anything. “How about you put that mouth to better use yeah,” he asked. That’s when you gathered your senses and your fight or flight kicked in. Your phone went off for the second time. Thanking any god who was listening you stood up and wrestled your arm out of his grip. Praying you wouldn’t start crying you looked at him. “I really need to get going.” You left no room for argument. Turning on your heels you speed walked away so he couldn’t see how scared you were. So that he wouldn’t see the lone tear escape your eye and fall to the sand below.

Seeing the top of the branches that make up the boneyard you let out a sigh of relief. Picking up your pace you almost jogged out into the clearing of the beach and saw that the number of people there had been cut in half. You looked around for a familiar face, for anyone that would make you feel safer in case Rafe came back in a few minutes. Seeing the top of the brunette bun you let out a large sigh of relief. Grabbing your earlier discarded shoes you made your way over to your friends and prepared yourself for your real evening to begin.Wiping off your face you tried to look presentable. Coming up behind Kie you rested your arm across her shoulders. “Good evening, comrades!” You greeted them. Kie turned to look at you and smiled. “Lady Y/N, how are you on this fine evening,” she responded in a faux British accent. You smiled back at her in response. If it were just the two of you, you would tell her everything. Swallowing back another round of tears you looked over at Sarah and smiled. You were glad that she shared few similarities with her brother otherwise you might have lost it then and there. You tried to ignore the lingering feeling of his hands on your thigh and neck. Kie nudged your ankle with her foot. “We were going to head back to the Chateau pretty soon, want to come?” She asked you with a look in her eyes that made you feel slightly better. Seeing JJ look over at you like a hopeful puppy made you cave quickly. Your crush on the boy grew stronger every time you saw him. You didn’t want to ruin the great relationship you already had with him but every time you were close to him this feeling in your chest grew like a weed. Every time you tried to shove your feelings down they would come back tenfold the next time you saw him. Giving a yes you gave a small smile to the cheers that rose around you. Helping them load up the van you made sure that you had your keys so that your car would still be here when you came back to grab it in the morning. 

Jumping into the van you snagged a seat in the back between Kie and Pope laying your head on Kie’s shoulder. Shifting your gaze to the front you saw John B. and Sarah holding hands in between the seats. Looking out the front window you saw the clear night sky filled with stars. It brought back the sky you saw from the ocean though and you quickly turned your head away. Playing with Kie’s hair you tried to shake the feeling of his hand still moving around like mud on your body. JJ gently kicked your shin with the tip of his foot. You looked up at him. He talked with his hands so as to not disturb the comfortable silence that had fallen around everyone. “Are you okay?” He asked you silently, moving his fingers slowly so you could understand. You were so tired of all the lying but you didn’t want to worry him. Giving him a sleepy smile and a thumbs up you tried to close your eyes but all you saw were flashes of Rafe and the sound of the waves, which would normally sound pretty but at the moment made you feel like you were drowning. Opening your eyes quickly you tried to focus all your thoughts into braiding Kie’s hair for the last few minutes of the car ride. 

When you made it back to the Chateau it seemed as if everyone had awoken from the sleepy state that wrapped around you all like a blanket in the car. JJ was attempting to keep Pope’s attention, and failing, on how to roll a proper backwood. Pope was listening to Kie tell a story from her freshman year with Sarah chiming in every now and again. John B. was off in the kitchen getting everyone drinks and you, well you were still trying not to flinch every time you got a flash of Rafe or heard his breathy voice in your ear. Realizing that just ignoring them wouldn’t work you got up to help John B. carry everyone’s drinks back. Weaving in between your sitting friends you walked over to the kitchen and hopped up on the counter. He was rustling around in the fridge. “So why were you gone for so long tonight?” He asked, starting off strong. “I just went for a walk on the beach to clear my head, why?” You responded playing dumb and hoping that they didn’t see Rafe trail after you. “Sarah was worried about you,” That grabbed your full attention. “Why would she be worried?” You were still really hoping that she hadn’t seen Rafe trail after you. The last thing you needed was for everything to become a bigger deal than it needed to be. Sure he was being a creep but that didn’t surprise you, after everything everyone said about him. You also put a stop to it before it went anywhere. That’s what was important. He didn’t get what he wanted. That realization filled you with pride for a split second. Then all the worry came back to you. Shoving it aside you looked back to where John B. was standing up from the ground with three beers in hand. You grabbed the other two on the counter and snatched up two bottle openers before you started to walk back over to the group. John B. handed Sarah a beer before he looked over at you with a look that said what you needed to hear. ‘We’re here if you need us.’ Tossing him an opener you gave him a soft smile which you hopped convey your thanks. Sitting back over by JJ you put his beer on the ground next to you before taking the opener to the top of your beer and then his. Handing him the drink you took a quick swig of yours before nodding in recognition to his mumbled thanks. Holding the bottle by the neck you turned your torso so you could watch him try to finish rolling this blunt. You got lost in memory while watching him. Your thoughts bounced from the first time you met, to when he complimented your swimsuit that one time, to when he gave you your first hit of weed. The laughs from the rest of the group brought your attention back to Kie’s story that you were only half paying attention to. Turning back over to them you smiled at her. She gave a small wave of her eyebrows. You drew your mouth into a straight line and gave her a subtle glare. She knew all about your crush and made fun of you for it all the time. She had guessed exactly what you were thinking about just a second ago. Taking another swig of your beer you pulled out your phone and texted your mom telling her that you had not, in fact, been kidnapped and that you were with Kie and safe. Finishing off the text with an ‘I love you and I’ll be home in the morning’ you pocketed your phone and looked back up at Kie’s smirking face. Pretending to scratch your eye with your middle finger, in hopes of being subtle you glanced over at John B. and Sarah who were cuddling and nursing their own beers. Giving Sarah a small wave you looked back when you heard a small whoop. Cocking your head in curiosity you saw JJ do a small victory shimmy as he held up the finished backwood. Giving a silent scoff you raised your eyebrows at him. He now had everyone’s attention as he showcased his finished blunt. Kie gave him a small thumbs-up as a small display of pride while Pope started a lecture on the effects of smoking. Sarah and John B. laughed at him while Pope realizing his words were falling on deaf ears sat back to watch. JJ started to bob his head up and down on the blunt and started over dramatically moaning like he was in a bad porno. Everyone else laughed him off but you felt like ice was shooting down your spine. You sat up straighter and forced a half-smile that pained you. Once he stopped his gross display you hopped the night would be able to go back to normal and you could just ignore what had happened along with the rest of the evening. Apparently not. Guess all your luck had been used on the gang not seeing Rafe trail behind you. JJ looked up and put on a weird face that when you would look back to the night later on you could only describe as a mix of being drunk, high, and teasing. “My good lady Kie,” you could already tell where this was going, “could I interest you in an early morning bj in exchange for a few puffs of this glorious backwood.” Inside you felt like crying or screaming. On the outside, you just looked pained. Kie just kicked his leg a little bit harder than usual and laughed at him “You are absolutely disgusting.” She giggled. Pope shook his head while Sarah had a look of laughter and disgust on her face. John B., who was probably used to it at this point, laughed along with Kie. You hopped he would leave it at that. Prayed even. JJ, ever the clown, couldn’t drop it though, could he? Turning to you, he smiled. You looked as if you were preparing for a punch. Kie looked at you with question on her face. “My dear Y/N,” you felt close to crying, “Kie has denied my proposed arrangement so I come to you with the same idea.” You swallowed. You could smell the weed and other drugs on him. Could hear his slurred words and feel his hand on your neck squeezing just tight enough to scare you. His hand dragging across your thigh like sandpaper. You didn’t want to show fear. You didn’t want to show him how he reduced you into a scared, whimpering mess. It felt with just a simple phrase you could be transported back to that moment. Opening your eyes suddenly you met with JJ’s teasing gaze. Kie looked like a mix between confused and amused. Everyone else looked interested. Why couldn’t you just respond how you normally did, telling him to fuck off and give him a tipsy laugh. You stood up swiftly and bent back down to grab your beer bottle. You started to turn away from the group when JJ grabbed you by the wrist. “Hey, it was just a joke,” You didn’t want to bring down their mood by moping and you just needed to be alone. You wrestled your arm out of his grip and he gave it up with little fight. “I-” you cleared your throat so you wouldn’t sound on the brink of tears. “I need to get some air.” Walking around Pope and stepping over John B’s leg you reached the screen door. Opening it, you relished in the feeling of the cool salty air on your face. Stepping down the steps to lead you to the hammock and the chairs you had set up for when it was too hot for you all to be inside. Sitting down you grasped your beer bottle in your hands and let all your emotions out. You felt the tears slip down your face for the second time tonight. You tried to channel all your fear, anger, and sadness into your tears. You were scared of Rafe. After tonight how could you not be? You realized though that you had always been scared of him. You just had a reason now. Trying to calm your breathing you realized that tonight you got lucky. Tonight could have been so much worse. You wanted to feel lucky but you couldn’t find it in your heart. Starring off at the stars you took a long drink.

Hearing the screen door slam shut you quickly reached up and harshly wiped your face so that any remnants of your tears wouldn’t be seen. You heard the person bound down the stairs and then walk quickly across the grass. They sat down in the chair next to you. Turning away from the sky you looked over at him. He looked sorry. “It was just a joke, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” The words he said sounded rehearsed like he had said them to himself over and over. You gave him a small smile. “Not your fault, it’s just been a long night.” You lifted the beer bottle back up to your lips. He cleared his throat. “Hey Y/N, why did Rafe follow you when you walked up the beach?” He asked you protectiveness oozing from his voice. So guess you had less luck than you thought. Sighing, you tried to gather your thoughts. “Did he do anything?” This was not going to end well and you could feel it. No matter what you said he was going to get angry. “Y/N I swear to God if he did anything I will beat him seven ways to Sunday.” The threat wasn’t what worried you, it was the fact that it wasn’t an empty promise. Thinking for a moment on how to best respond you decided that lying wasn’t worth it anymore. The moment you opened your mouth everything came tumbling out like a waterfall. You told him about the senses you experienced. From the smell of cheap alcohol and drugs to the feeling of his hand on your thigh and on the back of your neck. You talked about how his anger went from one to one hundred and back again in seconds. You talked about how you should have listened to everyone’s warnings and how he looked as if he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You talked about everything and nothing. He just sat there and listened. 

In the end, you took a sharp inhale. After a few minutes, you turned and looked at him. For once he was quiet. Then he stood up. You stared at him with eyes like a deer in headlights. He gestured for you to stand up as well. Still confused you abandoned your drink on the chair and stood up to face him. He pulled you into a crushing hug. Getting thrown off balance you grabbed onto his shoulders to steady yourself. Letting your hands slide down his back you pressed your face into his bicep. He rubbed his hand up and down your back. “Y/N you didn’t deserve any of that.” His voice is quiet and out of character. Drawing back he placed his hands on your shoulders. The butterflies in your stomach became a storm. He turns away. “Hey JJ I actually have something else I want to tell you,” You wished you could grab the words back after they left your mouth. He paused in what he was doing indicating for you to continue. He wasn’t looking at you which helped. “JJ I like you,” you paused and contemplated everything that was about to leave your mouth, “as way more than a friend.” You tried not to feel like you were being burned alive with embarrassment as you continued. “I have for a little while now and I get this feeling every time I’m around you.” He stood up straight. “I need to know what you feel about any of this,” you were so scared more scared then you had been all night. “If you don’t feel the same then we can just pretend this never happened and just go back to normal.” You finished. He turned around. He was silently laughing at you. You felt any hope you had deflate. Your face fell. He stopped laughing. Giving you a soft smile he replied to your confession. “Thank God you said something or otherwise I never would have acted on them.” You looked up and cocked your head to the side. “I like you too Y/N, more than I can describe.” Your face split into a grin. You launched yourself into his arms and gave a tiny squeal of happiness. Breaking apart once again you saw that his face had a large grin on it as well. Unable to shove back down your smile you sat back down. Putting your beer on the grass you reached across the distance between you and took his hand in yours. Letting your joint hands fall in between you. Turning back out to glance at the sky you marveled at the twinkling stars. For the first time all night, you closed your eyes and were greeted by darkness, not Rafe’s face. You both stayed out there for hours, your hands interlocked just soaking in each other’s presence. 

@simonsbluee