#he is shockingly not angsty

[followerofmercy]

For the unhinged character bingo; how about Childe?

my hero

I'm debating whether to put mommy and daddy issues because I'm sure his family is fucking terrified AND disappointed in him but they were very supportive until he decided to be an international terrorist

[miley1442111]

birthday break-a.hotchner

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summary: aaron almost misses your birthday

pairing: aaron hotchner x fiancé! fem! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, angsty for a moment (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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To say you were a little bit pissed off was an understatement. It was your birthday, the one day a year anything ever got to be about you, and your fiance was missing it, with less than a day’s notice. 

You sat at the kitchen table with Jack, a solemn look on your face as you poured out his cereal. Today was going to be like any other day, nothing special, nothing new. You loved your job, but being a technical analyst for the BAU meant seeing awful things every single day, and shockingly, you weren’t really in the mood. 

“You ready?” Jack asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was waiting by the door, waiting to be dropped to school.

“Ready,” you nodded. 

Aaron was away with the rest of the team on a case in Boston. You were stuck, alone, in Quantico, with absolutely no end of this case in sight. 

You walked into the building with a frown, just wanting the day to be over already. You didn't want the pity 'happy birthday’ wishes from everyone else, when all you wanted was one from Aaron. He hadn’t texted you yet, you hadn’t called, and you were almost sure he’d forgotten, or didn’t see it as an important thing. He gets like that sometimes, one-tracked. 

“Birthday girl!” Penelope smiled, running up to you with a pink cupcake and a lit candle on top. “Blow out the candle!”

Your frown melted into a soft laughter and you blew out the candle, grateful for her and all her eccentricities. “Thank you Pen,” you smiled. “You’re the best.”

She smiled brighter. “I have to pull out all the stops for my favourite co-worker, don’t I?”

“I thought I was your favourite?” Aaron’s voice came from behind you, and you whipped around. There he stood, a smirk on his lips and his arms open for you. 

“Aaron?!” You cheered, running up and hugging him. It felt right, being in his arms again. 

He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. “Happy birthday baby,” he smiled. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[parkersgarage]

a/n:I just be throwing words together and hit post y’all, I can’t even lie.

Sevika x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 747 wc, little angsty but I wouldn’t cry to it (｀_´)ゞ dialogue heavy as per usual!

“Am I still allowed to say, ‘come back in one piece’” you ask quietly, watching her tighten miscellaneous screws on her arm.

Sevika doesn’t get it. Why you’re so suddenly quiet when before you wouldn’t stop yapping her ear off, or when she’d come home, you’d shout and cheer while waking up the whole damn block. But now it’s just quiet.

She hates it.

A look of disappointment crosses your face when you don’t receive any response. Your eyes have never looked so dull and lifeless before.

“I know you don’t like this,” she starts, staring at her hand. She couldn’t look at you. “I don’t either, but this is how I can keep you safe.” A hum is her only response; she takes it.

“Can you talk to me, please?” Sevika nearly bites her tongue at the plea, but you’re the most important thing in her life now and maybe forever. “I can’t read your mind, not as good as before.”

A shaky and deep sigh falls past your lips. With trembling fingers, your hand glides up her arms gently, slowly melding your body against hers. She takes you in just as tenderly, rough fingertips holding your waist while the cold metal of her hand reaches to your neck.

“It’s too much,” you confess, letting your head fall to her shoulder. You couldn’t let her see you. “All of this change, all the blood being spilled, your new employer.” Your voice gets rougher by the end, and Sevika’s heart churns at the anger in it.

Had she known how you would react to it, if she knew how bitter and angry you’d be about her joining the very force she used to fight against, would she still do it?

If she could take back joining, if she had just let it lie and die, could she?

“I’m–” the apology sits heavy on her tongue, waiting to spill out, but all that follows is silence. You wonder, did this new life mean Sevika couldn’t even talk to you?

She sighs, rubbing her forehead as you pull away from her. “I wish I didn’t have to do this just to keep you safe.” She murmured, her head cast low in an attempt to hide. “He told me as long as I work for him, not a single thing would touch your head, and that’s all I want.”

“Vika, we could’ve just left—”

“And where would you suggest we go?” She asks, cutting you off entirely. There’s a snap in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed, one you couldn’t blame her for. Yet she sighs again, regret on her face– or rather, it was guilt.

“I get it.” You nod, sitting back– away from her. “I’m sorry.” Another sigh; it seems almost never-ending. The dissatisfaction, the hurt, everything. All because of one slight change. “I won’t complain anymore.”

“That’s not what I–” her sentence falls off her tongue when you get up. Just as you move to walk away, her fingers are quick to grasp your wrist lightly. “Don’t go.” She whispers, and shockingly, her eyes turn watery before casting downwards. “Please.”

You sink back down to your knees. Her hand still holds onto you, afraid you’ll walk away again. You can’t tell what’s going on in her head, what internal battle she’s going through, and how this change affects her.

“You should eat.” You say after a beat of silence. She only hums, ultimately leaving the thought behind as she lays her head against your chest. “You’ve had a long day, Vika.”

Her eyes shut as she focused on your beating heart. She felt bad for tuning out your voice, but this is what she needed. To hear that you were alive, that you weren’t lying lifeless in a ditch like she’d been threatened with hours ago by some goon who was less than her.

At the end of the night, after you’ve both eaten and settled for bed, she clings onto you tighter than she ever has. When she thinks you’ve fallen asleep, the tears that soak your shirt don’t go unnoticed by you. All you wished for was to turn around, wipe them from her face, and tell her it would be okay. But Sevika wouldn’t want that, at least– that’s what you thought. “I love you.” She says. It weighs you down, making you sink further and further into the pit you dug yourself into.

You wonder why it was only said when she thought you were sleeping.

can yall tell I like writing semi-soft Sevika ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: Mistakes in a Hardware Store

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Masterlist: Here

CW: Harry is a tad bit over protective in this, threats of violence, semi angsty bits, language.

A/N: Harry had done something wrong and shockingly enough it has nothing to do with what he does for a living, so enjoy him trying to get you to forgive him✨

“Looking at it every five seconds isn’t going to make it magically start ringing you know that right?” Harry just ignores Mitch’s comment as he looks at his phone for the sixth time in the last five minutes, letting out a sigh when he all he’s met with is the date and time on his Lock Screen, no message from you or your name flashing across it like it normally does when you call him. “Trouble in paradise?” Mitch asks as he looks over and watches Harry run a hand through his hair as he tosses his phone onto his desk.

“She’s not talking to me.” Is all he says before he stands up and begins pacing the length of his desk while Mitch spins his chair around so his back is facing his own desk allowing him to watch his bestfriend have what he could only describe as a breakdown of some sort due to not having heard from you all day. Harry pauses and runs a hand over his face then just looks at Mitch over his shoulder. “I think she’s mad-”

“What did you do?” Harry lets out a groan as he walks over to his desk and places his hands flat on top of it and Mitch raises a brow at him when he notices him look down and close his eyes while letting out a deep sigh. “Harry tell me you didn’t-”

“You’ve got to stop assuming I’m walking around killing people without telling you.” Harry jokes as he lifts his head to send Mitch a glare. “I didn’t even really put my hands on anyone this time.” He explains making his friend just roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“She went with me to get some stuff so I can fix the shed door in the backyard and while we were at the hardware store some dude came up to her and started chatting her up so I might’ve threatened him a little.”

“You’re such a hot head man you need to relax and realize your wife is a catch so dudes are going to want to try to flirt with her.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as he straightens himself up and takes a step towards him with a quirked brow, Mitch is extremely familiar to this side of his bestfriend. “I’m just supposed to let people flirt with her and think they have some sort of shot with her?”

“They’ll know they don’t have a shot with her because she’ll let them know. She doesn’t need you to do it.” Mitch casually explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Harry just lets out a scoff and throws his hands up in air, clearly annoyed at the idea of having his wife be the one to tell creeps to leave her alone.

“She shouldn’t have to worry about telling wanks who want to chat her up to fuck off.” He snaps while he walks back over to his desk to reach for his phone. “I’m her husband it’s my job to do that for her.” Mitch rolls his eyes at his explanation as he watches Harry tap away on his phone.

“No it’s your job to trust her and let her handle herself in situations like that.” Harry can’t help but feel his heart sink as Mitch’s words hit him, he knows he can be a tad bit overprotective when it comes to you and that often leads to him overreacting in certain situations but he’s never thought about how him reacting the way that he does could make you feel as if he doesn’t trust you or think you can’t handle yourself.

“I do trust her.” Mitch just nods as he uncrosses his arms so he can stand up from his chair. “I just-you know how I am with her.” He says with a sigh as Mitch takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know how you are with her and I know it’s because you love her but sometimes it’s a little much. But the real question is how are you gonna fix this?” Mitch asks as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before letting it go. “I hear flowers work wonders.” He suggests making Harry send him a glare making Mitch chuckle because sometimes it’s glaringly obvious how single Mitch is compared to Harry.

“Already had a bouquet delivered to her office this morning since she only works a half day today.” He mumbles and Mitch just gives him a nod of approval as he watches Harry tap a few things on his phone before he locks it and slides into his back pocket. “I have to go. You good to handle the rest of the day without me?” Harry questions making Mitch just brush him off as he turns to head back towards his desk.

“Yeah I’m fine we have that Gavin guy tomorrow and today is just paperwork.” Harry just nods at Mitch’s answer before he gathers his keys and tosses his work bag over his shoulder. “Good luck.” Mitch says with a smile as Harry gives him one more glance before turning and heading out their shared office door and down the hallway for the door that opens to the stairs leading up to the lobby of the building the two of them work at.

Harry hates the feeling he gets when he walks inside the front door, he’s not met with the usual warmth that always radiates off of you and seeps into his body and relaxes him as it makes its way from his tired feet all the way up to his sore shoulders. Today he’s met with silence and the utter coldness that comes with it and it’s almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, but the only thing that keeps him from turning around and leaving is that he knows you’re home because he parked next to your car in the driveway and he is willing to do anything get your warmth back into the house.

He knows where you’re at, it’s just something that he can’t help with what he does for a living he knows how to keep track of people when they’re in relatively close proximity to him. So as soon as he walked in the front door he could see your foot hanging off the love seat tucked away in the corner of the living room near the bookshelf next to the floor lamp that you opted to turn on instead of the main light. He acts as if he didn’t see you as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door and slips his shoes off before he makes his way into the kitchen where he places his work bag on the table, he can feel your eyes on him from the living room and he takes that as a decent sign that you’re even wanting to look at him.

He runs a hand through his hair as he contemplates his next move, he knows you don’t like confrontation so you won’t be the one to tell him you’re mad at him so if he wants this to get resolved in a timely manner he’s going to need to be the one to initiate the conversation but he’s just not in a hurry to hear you say you’re upset with him. So Harry does what he thinks is the best thing to do in the moment because he knows you, he knows what you really need from him in this moment and he’s more than willing to give it to you if it spares him, at least for a few minutes from having to hear you tell him how unhappy he made you the other day. He turns around and quietly heads into the living room, he watches as you close the book he knows you stopped reading the moment he walked through the front door and place it on the side table near the lamp. As soon as he’s in front of you he reaches down and grabs your hands as he drops to his knees, he looks at you as he brings your hands to his lips and places sweet kisses to your knuckles and he doesn’t miss the slight shade of pink your cheeks get at his actions.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes sure his words come out nice and clear so you don’t miss them between little pecks to your knuckles. “I know I made you upset yesterday and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have threatened him or-”

“We’ve had this conversation before haven’t we Harry?” You ask making Harry just swallow before nodding his head and he swears he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you turn and look away from him. “I know you want to protect me from all the creeps and jerks but Harry yesterday you-”

“Don’t say it.” He cuts you off as he lets your hands slip out of his as he stands up. “Please don’t say it.” His voice is low as he takes a small step away from you as he feels as if his world might be crumbling down around him as the thought of you telling him you were afraid of him bounces around in his head.

“Harry look at me.” He can’t help himself as he does what you ask because even though his whole world may feel like it’s on the verge of falling apart he’s still your husband, the man who hasn’t ever really been able to not do whatever it is you ask of him. “I’m not afraid of you.” He feels your hands on his arms slowly running up until they are cupping the sides of his face making sure he can’t look away from you. Your words take a moment to sink in through the layers of sheer panic and anxiety running through his mind but when they finally do Harry lets out a deep breath and feels as if his legs could give out at any moment with the amount of relief that washes over him.

“I was going to say that in that moment you were being one of the jerks you try to protect me from all the time.” All Harry can do is just nod because you’re right, he was being exactly the type of person he tries to keep you away from and honestly Harry is still recovering from the fact you admitted you aren’t afraid of him so a nod is the best he can do in the moment. “You threatened someone’s life all because he was asking me if I had any recommendations for a good weather resistant wood varnish.” When Harry rolls his eyes he instantly knows it’s a mistake because he feels your hands drop from his face making his lips turn downward into a slight frown while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but that was clearly a line and he was trying to flirt-”

“So him flirting with me means you need to come in and grab him by his shirt and tell him that if he so much as looks at me again the next project you’ll be working on will be his coffin?” Harry can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve raised your voice since he’s met you, each time has almost always been towards him and he hates that he’s the one who gets you to the point where you lose your ability to speak in your usual soft and gentle tone and are left with no choice but to make your voice louder and a little meaner in hopes it’ll help get your point across more clearly.

“I didn’t mean to grab him. That was a mistake.” He doesn’t make an attempt to get closer to you even though every part of him wants to reach out and pull you into him, he wants to give you the space you need to tell him exactly how his actions made you feel and he knows you won’t be able to do that if he crowds you. And as much as he normally loves to play dirty and use his knowledge against you, this time he wants you to get everything out because he wants to be better for you so if he has to stand here and take it for a few more minutes then so be it.

“Was that the only mistake you made yesterday?” He wants to say he really didn’t make any mistakes yesterday but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together as you place a hand on your hip letting him in on the fact you’re getting annoyed at this conversation.

“Please just answer me because I don’t want to argue with you anymore but I need to know if you really think that’s the only mistake you made yesterday.” Harry can tell by the slight pleading tone of your voice that you’re beginning to break, your walls of anger are starting to crumble and he can’t help himself but feel a small sense of relief because he can work with this, he can find a way to make your walls come down and get you to forgive him.

“No.” He answers as he takes a small cautious step towards you making you raise an eyebrow at him as a signal to have him elaborate on his answer. “I shouldn’t have threatened him or raised my voice in the store because I know how you feel about causing scenes in public.” He adds as he takes another small step towards you and he can’t help the small smirk that forms on his face when he sees your hand drop from your hip as you playfully roll your eyes at the mention of causing a scene.

“Anything else?” Your voice is much softer now and Harry feels like this is a good time to take a chance so he reaches an arm out so he can place a hand on your hip and he smiles when you don’t make any moves to wiggle out of his grasp or bring your own hand down to push his away.

“Letting you give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. That’s probably the biggest mistake I made because you know how much I love hearing you talk.” Now normally you’d take that as a tease of some sort but Harry’s not an idiot, or at least not in this moment so he’s sure to sound as serious as possible without ruining the lighthearted mood that’s beginning to form between the two of you.

“You love hearing me talk?” Harry just gives you a smile as he ever so gently pulls you closer to him by his hold on your hip.

“Your voice is one of my favorite sounds.” He admits without a single drop of hesitation because it’s the truth. “Especially right before you fall asleep and it’s this mixture of a whisper and just mumbles of nonsense.” His eyes stare into yours as he raises his free hand so he can brush a few strands of hair out of your face and back behind your ear. “But my favorite is when it’s got this hint of excitement to it like when you’re telling me about a new book you found that you’re now obsessed with or better yet the rants you go on about books you hate those are very fun and your voice gets this almost twinge of absolute disgust to it that I always find entertaining because it’s so rare you find something you don’t like.” He keeps his hand on the side of your face cupping your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek.

“So really baby it about killed me not getting to hear your voice for a whole day all because I was an asshole and couldn’t handle some guy flirting with you in a Home Depot.” He wants to pull your face towards his and seal his words with a kiss but he doesn’t, he’s a gentleman after all and knows it’s only right to let you decide when he’s earned his kissing privileges back sees as you just broke the day long silent treatment you were giving him not even five minutes ago.

“His name was Brad.” Harry’s grip on your hip tightens a little while he other hand falls from your face as you give him an unwanted detail of your encounter yesterday. “Maybe if you knew that before you went all crazy on him you would’ve reconsidered? Because who’s going to pick some dude named Brad over their hot husband named Harry?” He just chuckles as you give him a playful smirk while reaching your hands up to grab both sides of his face.

“Well when you put it like that.” He jokes as he feels you begin to pull his face down towards yours. “I really am sorry sweetheart I swear it won’t happen again.” He whispers as he bumps the tip of his nose into yours making you smile.

“I know you are and that’s why I forgive you.” That’s all Harry needs to hear before he allows himself to close the gap between his lips and yours, he feels you smile against his lips as you pull him even closer to you when you feel him try to pull away.

“I love you.” He mumbles between kisses making you giggle as your hands go from his face down to his chest so you can grip onto his shirt while his hand holds onto the back of your neck.

In this moment Harry knows that the two of you are going to be okay, that while you may hate how he over reacts and gets a little too protective at times, you still love him and haven’t decided to give up on him or at least not yet. So Harry decides right then and there that he’s going to actually try to be better, but while he really will try he can’t promise he won’t mess up every now and then because he’s still Harry, and when it comes to you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with people getting too close or being too friendly.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi! 💙

For your impromptu springtime ask game, I'd love to request Ransom Drysdale with smut prompt 3. “do you want them to hear you being such a slut?”

Thank you in advance! 💙

a scheme on a spring day

pairing: husband!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, anal play/butt plug, anal sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, choking, daddy kink, dirty talk, light degradation, light humiliation, praise kink, light bdsm, orgasm control, pet names (baby, baby girl), aftercare, fluff, light family angst, established relationship

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: hi hi thank you so much for sending in this prompt!! this turned out to be a little more angsty than i anticipated, but sometimes i just wanna smuggle Ransom away from his family and cuddle him—and this was my opportunity to live out that dream!! anyway, i hope you enjoy!! ♡

You knew better than to let your husband convince you to go along with one of his schemes, but Ransom Drysdale had a way of winning you over to his side. In fact, it took shockingly little convincing from Ransom to get you to go along with his idea to make a boring visit with his family more entertaining. 

But then, he was your husband, and you trusted him. Besides, you knew you’d get just as much enjoyment from his scheme as he did.

Eventually, anyway. 

Still, you couldn’t help but rue the moment you’d given in to Ransom’s idea when you walked into the Thrombey house desperately aware of the plug in your ass that shifted with every step you took.

From an outsider’s perspective, you knew you looked every bit the presentable wife on Ransom’s, wearing a pretty spring sundress with sandals. But you and your husband knew the extra accessory you’d worn, and it gave you just as much of a thrill as you were sure it gave Ransom to know what you were hiding beneath your skirt.

By the time you arrived at the Thrombey estate, you’d already soaked through your panties on the short ride over from the home you shared with Ransom. To make matters worse, you had to make small talk with Linda and Richard while worrying about your arousal dripping down your thighs.

Thankfully, Ransom kept his hand on your lower back, his touch having a steadying effect on you. That is, except when his palm occasionally dropped low to grope your ass, making you shoot him a warning glare when no one was looking. 

He ignored you, pretending to play the part of dutiful son and grandson. You were the only one who saw the way he gritted his teeth, making the muscle in his jaw pop, when Richard or Linda gushed over how you’d turned Ransom’s life around. How you’d finally been the one person to set him straight.

No matter how many times you tried to brush off the comments, telling them that Ransom had made himself a respectable man, they persisted. When you could tell it had become too much for Ransom—and you worried over the state of his teeth if he kept grinding them—you politely excused yourself and your husband from the conversation.

Before you could get roped into a sales pitch for Joni’s latest pyramid scheme, Ransom guided you to the back of the house and out onto the porch, though he didn’t stop there. When you set foot in the lush green lawn and turned your face up to the bright spring sunshine, something inside your chest loosened—which only reminded you of the plug wedged deep in your ass.

Ransom paused for only a moment to brush a kiss to your lips, a thank you for getting him away from his parents, and then he grabbed your hand and began tugging you toward the tree line that separated the lawn from the rest of the Thrombey estate. 

Behind the house, there were paths that meandered into the forest and Ransom led you down one of these until you were hidden in the trees. There, scattered along the forest floor were hundreds of small purple flowers, sprung up thanks to the spring rains. 

You admired the blooms as you walked behind Ransom, your husband picking his way carefully off the path and beneath the shade of a massive tree.

Turning to you, Ransom wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you again, a more thorough plundering of your mouth that had you moaning against his lips. Your knees went weak beneath you, but your husband’s strong arms held you up, your fingers digging into the soft wool of his sweater. 

When Ransom pulled away, he didn’t move far, his forehead pressing to yours and his deep breaths ghosting past your lips, making you crave him more. 

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, baby,” he murmured, squeezing you in his arms and pressing a quick kiss to your swollen lips. “I think it’s time daddy gives you a little treat for being so good.” Ransom bucked his hips against you so you could feel the bulge in his pants, making you moan again.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you cried, throwing your head back and baring your throat to Ransom’s hungry mouth. His trailed kisses down your neck, grinding his erection against your belly until both of you were desperate with desire.

Then, he turned you around and knelt behind you, pushing your dress up past your hips and baring your ass to him. He pulled your panties down your legs, ducking forward to sink his teeth into the plush softness of your ass, making you squeal loudly. 

“Ransom!” you admonished your husband, shooting him a look over your shoulder, though there was no real heat to your tone. Especially not when Ransom licked the bite mark he’d left, wringing a soft whimper from your lips.

“You know I can’t help myself when it comes to your ass, baby,” Ransom said, exactly zero repentance in his tone. You huffed a laugh, but the sound devolved into a low groan when your husband began to play with the plug in your ass, pulling it out and pushing it back in. “You’re such a good girl,” Ransom murmured, pressing kisses to the globes of your ass between his words, “Wearing this pretty little plug for daddy—now it’s time for your reward.”

With that, Ransom eased the plug from your tight hole, tucking it into his pocket while he pulled out a small bottle of lube. He spread more in your ass and on his cock when he pulled it free from his pants. Then he was helping you sit down on his lap, his cock sliding easily into your tightest hole.

You gasped and moaned, feeling Ransom’s cock stretch your ass even more than the plug. But wearing it had prepared you well enough that it didn’t hurt. You only felt the delicious fullness and pleasure of Ransom filling you up, moaning happily when your ass pressed flush against your husband’s thighs. 

Ransom leaned back against the tree you sat beneath, pulling you to recline against his chest, making it impossible for you to move. All you could do was sit in your husband’s lap, your ass impaled on his cock, your pussy dripping down between your legs and coating his balls while you enjoyed the warm spring day, the sweet scent of the purple flowers filling your nose and the breeze rustling the trees of the forest.

“Enjoying your treat, baby?” Ransom rumbled in your ear, a little bit of teasing in his tone that made you squirm. Both of you moaned as you shifted and Ransom’s big hands grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs wide open. “Such a filthy little slut, baby girl,” he groaned, cupping your pussy in his palm. You whined, trying to grind against him, but he spanked your cunt instead, making you cry out. “Soaking wet from taking daddy’s cock in your ass when we’re supposed to be spending time with my family.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond because Ransom shoved three of his fingers into your pussy, the intrusion feeling so much more overwhelming with his cock buried in your other hole. You screamed. Your back arching away from Ransom’s chest, your head falling back on his shoulder, and the piercing wail of your pleasure filling your ears and the forest around you.

Quick as lightning, Ransom’s other hand flew to your throat and he squeezed it tightly, cutting off the sound. “You’re going to have to be quiet, baby girl, unless you want them to hear you,” he growled in warning. 

But at the same time, Ransom’s fingers began fucking your pussy, plunging sloppily into your cunt, his palm slapping against your clit with every thrust. It was all you could do to shriek and squeal as pleasure consumed you.  

“Do you want them to hear you being such a slut?” Ransom taunted you, his words only making you writhe and squirm more on his cock. “Do you want them to find you like this—my cock buried in your sweet ass, my fingers fucking your tight cunt, and you unable to control yourself because you’re such a fucking slut for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, not even knowing if you were agreeing with your husband or simply urging him on. Your pleasure was building, coiling tight in your core, and you knew if he kept up his treatment of your body, you were going to come. “Please, daddy, please can I come?” 

“Already, baby girl?” Ransom teased, warmth in his tone. You whined your answer, pressing your throat into his hand and he chuckled. Your husband brushed a kiss to your cheek, fucking you harder with his fingers, grinding his palm against your clit every time they bottomed out in your cunt. “Go ahead, baby, come whenever you want.”

That was all you needed to tip you over the edge. Your screams of pleasure were stifled by Ransom’s hand around your throat, choking you hard enough that your entire being was reduced down to the feeling of his cock in your ass and his fingers in your cunt. Your orgasm was explosive, your body going tight and shaking through wave after wave of ecstasy.

Your husband grunted in your ear, and you knew from the way his cock throbbed in your tight hole that he was spilling himself deep in your body. A pleased smile curved your lips as you sagged back against his chest, letting the warmth of his come fill you with as much satisfaction as your release had.

Heaving a deep groan of relief, Ransom’s body relaxed beneath yours, his arms circling your waist and holding you tight against his body while he pressed butterfly kisses to your cheek, neck and shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as his kisses, a contrast to the rough way he’d fucked you.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I needed this today.”

You stroked his arms soothingly and turned your face so you could capture your husband’s lips in a gentle kiss. “I know, Ran,” you whispered when you pulled away. And you did. 

You knew how hard it was for Ransom to see his family. No matter how hard he tried, they still only saw him as the black sheep. In fact, marrying you was the only right thing he’d done in their eyes. 

It made days at the Thrombey house nearly unbearable, which was why you always went along with Ransom’s schemes to make it enjoyable for both of you. His ideas were often filthy and naughty, but they meant giving your husband the reassurance he needed to get through the day. 

So if you had to go along with a scheme on a spring day to help your husband, you were more than happy to do so—especially when it ended with the both of you smiling and content in each other’s arms.

[mandalhoerian]

I’m really impressed by your analysis of Raf’s new card! Everything you stated makes so much sense and gave me a fresh perspective on his insecurities.

However, I recently came across a discussion on Reddit where someone pointed out that Rafayel's actions could be seen as problematic. They argued there’s a lack of consent from MC, suggesting that MC wasn’t fully into it. They mentioned the use of the dagger as a symbol of the MC's discomfort or pain, which they attributed to her being tense or unrelaxed. They also highlighted how MC seemed to try distracting him, like asking him to answer the phone or pointing out the snow.

Personally, I don’t agree with their interpretation, but I’m struggling to articulate why. Do you have any thoughts or interpretations that might help address this perspective?

Okay, um. First and foremost, thank you for sharing your thoughts and for trusting me with this question, but god did I literally react like this.

But, before we get into the analysis of the deed itself, let’s start first by grounding this discussion in the context of the product that is Love and Deepspace.

This is a 12+ rated action-adventure sci-fi otome game, which sets a clear expectation for the tone and themes presented. While otome games can and often do explore nuanced and occasionally darker themes (and this doesn't mean they have subpar writing just because they're meant for a wider audience), they are typically balanced with the age-appropriate rating in mind. In a banner like this that is intentionally designed to revolve around romantic sex, it’s essential to recognize that the developers aren’t aiming to create content that veers into dead dove or non-consensual territory. To suggest that the writers or developers would include something as serious as this, especially under the guise of a romance storyline, is not only a misinterpretation but also an extreme departure from the genre’s conventions and the intended tone of the game.

The entire theme of the event is centered on exploring romantic tension, intimacy, and the growing bond between characters in a way that’s exciting but ultimately safe and consensual. The "spice" in these scenarios is shockingly suggestive when you have the censorship in mind, and designed to make us scream, not to introduce dark or inappropriate themes that would completely undermine the romantic fantasy. To imply otherwise is frankly absurd and feels like reading intent where there is none.

1) Otome games, particularly those rated 12+, are crafted to engage players in a romantic and emotionally fulfilling experience. They're fluffy, they're angsty, they can be dark and heavy, but even in more mature otome games, themes of non-consent (when they appear) are explicitly framed and addressed with appropriate tonal shifts. This isn’t a game where heavy, disturbing themes are shoehorned into a romantic storyline for shock value.

2) If the developers were truly presenting a situation where non-consensual sex or coercion was involved, it would be a complete betrayal of the genre, the event’s theme, and the player’s trust. The "spice" banner would instantly alienate the audience it’s designed for and spark backlash, not romantic engagement. The devs know their audience and their ratings, and this simply isn’t the place or context for something so serious.

Now that we're done WHY this sort of scenario CANNOT be the case for infold's writing, let's go into the symbolism and the language used to describe the act.

Rafayel enters the room abruptly and begins kissing MC without preamble. While this could initially seem forward, the scene takes care to show that:

MC actively breaks away to question him multiple times. This demonstrates that she is neither overpowered nor silenced, she has the agency to assert herself.

When she bites his lip, Rafayel respects this boundary and answers her questions, and more importantly, stops being non-verbal and communicates. It shows he is responsive to her cues, even when caught up in the moment.

The dynamic here leans into playful tension rather than coercion. MC’s actions (breaking away and biting) and Rafayel’s response (answering her and continuing to interact with her desires) showcase a mutual push-and-pull, common in romantic tension scenes.

As the scene progresses, it becomes clear that MC is not just passively involved but actively reciprocates:

Holds his hand on her own to make him accept the call while they're being sexual. That's freaky.

She flips him over and begins initiating physical affection, kissing him from his ear to his chest. This is a strong indication that she is not only comfortable but also eager to participate in their intimacy.

The "punish" action selected by the player highlights MC’s playful intent and interest in this interaction, especially in the context of teasing Rafayel while his friend’s call looms in the background. This playful edge basically screams mutual enjoyment rather than discomfort.

And now to the main course

the dagger

Listen. As much as we've normalized that this is dick in puss moment, infold can't. So, they've got to use euphemisms to describe Rafayel's dick and what he does with it. The metaphor of the "dagger" isn't meant to represent his dick and it hurting her.

Soft sharpness seeps into me bit by bit: This describes the initial entry, slow and deliberate, emphasizing Rafayel’s care in ensuring the act is comfortable and mutual. "Soft" reflects the intensity of the sensation without implying pain by juxtaposing with "sharpness". It also tells you that "soft sharpness" is his dick and it's describing how gentle he's being. How can sharpness be soft? When you're careful with it that it doesn't feel "sharp" anymore. It's meant to be a stand-in for his cock. It's not describing pain. It's his peanis. The dong. The verb "seeps" here says all you need to know, it's not painful.

Then it (the <<soft sharpness>>) digs into me like a dagger: This directly describes Rafayel increasing his movement (or thrusting), with the "dagger" symbolizing THE MOVEMENT. You know what you do with a dagger? Stab with it. The imagery of a dagger isn’t meant to evoke harm, it’s a stand-in for the deliberate and rhythmic motion of penetration.

So, in smut-language, Rafayel was putting it in slowly, then half-way, he thrusted it all the way in, quickly.

And so, let's interpret the act going forward.

"Yellow sand as far as the eye can see is covered by snow"

Remember that Rafayel indirectly called MC "the snow" by saying "it was soft and beautiful" when she pointed out it was snowing in the desert? This metaphor reflects the emotional and physical dynamic between Rafayel and MC. The “yellow sand” symbolizes Rafayel and his inner turmoil, dryness, and insecurities. The “snow” represents MC and his soothing presence and how her love transforms and comforts him. They are also on top of each other lmao, he is being “covered” by her presence, fully surrendering to her.

"We approach the sea beyond the dunes despite the bumpiness"

The "sea" symbolizes climax or release, both physically and emotionally. The “bumpiness” describes the physical intensity of their rhythm as they near this point together.

"Ripples travel along the undulating water's surface"

Yep. They're still going at it. This metaphor captures the sensations and physical effects of reaching climax. The ripples signify the aftereffects of release, the pleasure that radiates and envelops both of them. This is Rafayel and MC experiencing the peak of their intimacy, with the “undulating water” representing their synchronized pleasure and satisfaction.

"Swept into that endless blue"

Post-orgasm bliss. The overwhelming euphoria and serenity that comes with shared climax. It emphasizes the emotional connection they feel in this moment—boundless and all-encompassing.

"This isn't the abyss. Rather, it's a place filled with red flame lilies. This is Rafayel's color."

Now, this is MY interpretation, so take it with a grain of salt.

The "abyss" here symbolizes the emotional and creative void Rafayel has been experiencing--his lack of inspiration and his deep-rooted insecurities that leave him feeling hollow and disconnected. The abyss represents the blank canvas of his mind.

The transition from the abyss to the field of red flame lilies signifies a turning point for Rafayel. The flame lilies are not just a burst of inspiration, they are deeply tied to MC and the way she has reignited his passion BEYOND pain, both as an artist and as a person capable of love and connection.

By stating, “This is Rafayel’s color,” the narrative emphasizes that the flame lilies are uniquely his. They symbolize the return of his personal brand of creativity and vibrancy. It’s not about finding generic inspiration, it’s about rediscovering his own voice and perspective and MC doesn’t simply provide inspiration, she helps him unlock what was already inside him, and I believe, somehow witnesses the bursting of life inside him in her mind throughout the bond they share. MC serves as the guiding force that helps him reclaim his “color,” allowing him to see himself, and his art, in a new light.

Flame lilies are striking and bold, often symbolizing passion, love, and transformation. They’re an apt metaphor for Rafayel’s internal rebirth. Where the abyss was blank and desolate, the lilies are vibrant and overflowing with meaning, mirroring his renewed sense of self.

So, yeah.

And let’s be honest if you’re going to suggest non-consensual sex in a scene where MC flips him over, actively teases him, and metaphorically commands his every move through a glowing mark on his chest, then maybe it’s time to step away from the Reddit threads and reconnect with nature, maybe consider why you're intentionally picking on Rafayel like this.

He even asked, “Are you sure?” AND checked in with her later with "Are you comfortable?" -- all green flags here. If that’s not the gold standard of consent in an otome game, I don’t know what is.

I hope this was satisfactory, anon!!!!!

[but-a-humble-goon]

All those people who say "we don't have enough role models of positive masculinity" my dudes do you just not know of Kazuma Kiryu? He's the single manliest character in all of mandom. He is the epitome of man. He literally punches tigers and deflects sword blows with his pectorals. The most hardened killers in the world tremble at the mere mention of his name.

He's also just the dudest dude. He's respectful, empathetic, shockingly open minded, good natured and great with kids. He's self admittedly shy and awkward around women but at the same time no woman could ever make the mistake of finding him threatening. He's not exactly the most open with his emotions but he's also clearly not averse to them either, in fact he's an extremely passionate and often quite vulnerable man. He's allowed to smile and laugh and cry and despair and run the full gamut of angsty J-drama goodness without it ever being implied to somehow make him less masculine. Also, and this is most important, he's a giant god damn DORK.

Kiryu's a man who gives everything from baseball to disco dancing his 110% at all times and is never afraid to make an absolute fool of himself. There is not a self conscious bone in his entire body. Were we all only so bold as to be as unapologetically true to ourselves as this great big beautiful doofus of a man.

[kangals]

last keppy report card before the BIG DAY tomorrow!!

Leash Walking: 🟡/🔴 if kep were a human teenager he'd have an angsty poster in his room with huskies pulling a sled that said BORN TO PULL // FORCED TO HEEL

Manners - People: 🟢/🟡 you WILL be his bestie, or he WILL tackle you

Manners - Dogs: 🟢 friend of all creatures

Manners - Home: 🟡/🔴 having a lot of fun with destruction of property. also having some peepee problems, which at first i thought was marking but i think it's actually just housetraining regression because its always in the exact same spot he's struggled with from day one. did great when we spent the weekend at my parents' housre though.

Manners - Public Spaces: 🟢 he's just happy to be here

Grooming: 🟡 squirmy, but workable with bribery

Recall: 🟢/🟡 shockingly good at recalling off distractions but definitely has selective teenage deafness

Crating: 🟢 no complaints

Fear/Anxiety: 🟢 he spooked at an empty dog food bag that got blown out of the trash outside but then stellina walked up and sniffed it and his fears were vanquished

Volume: 🟢 lovely change of pace having a dog i can take places that doesn't scream the whole time

Puberty: 🟢 assuming the inside peeing is not actually hormone-driven, he's staying relatively composed.

doing good overall, really our main issues are just basic stuff - pulling on the leash (i have to be a lot meaner than i'd like in order to get him to walk nicely) and this last hurdle of housebreaking (i'm not sure why this one room is just incomprehensible to him that he cant pee there but it's been a long standing problem). otherwise he's been a pretty easy teenager - at least at this point.

i'll probably keep doing these until he turns 2 just for my own records, though i might drop it to every 2 months. i've seen some other ppl with puppies using the format which makes me happy! but ough i can't believe my puppy has grown up already 😭

[lovepookie]

₊˚ෆ Favoring Roses Over Daisies - s.qr

♡ ︎sypnosis: daisies will forever and always be boring; they were the former queen’s—your mother’s—favorite flower. however, now that it’s your turn to ascend the thrown, you can’t help that roses are your favorite; just like the blood-red ones embellished on prince ricky’s black suit on the night of your suitor’s ball. but don’t get caught up in the pretty scent and petals, because where there is beauty, there is thorns. ricky is the prince of an enemy nation—and your whole life he has been nothing but a pest. a really pretty one.

♡ ︎genre: royal au, fantasy/magical, fluff, angsty, prince!ricky, fem!reader, prince!hanbin side pairing, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, the dramaaa

♡ 7.0k word count (i’m not sorry)

♡ ︎warnings: cursing, mentions of readers father passing away, misogyny mentioned, kinda angsty and dramatic, playful threats, please let me know if you’d like me to add any!

♡ ︎nano note: i know this is long asf, but i am not even the slightest bit sorry. been thinking about prince ricky for the longest and i just had to quench my forbidden love needs. feedback and fangirling in the replies w/ me is greatly appreciated! xoxo

.♡.

“Look at you…so beautiful.” Your mother said, standing behind you as you sat on your bench in front of your vanity. She placed a lavish gold crown on your head carefully, using pins to secure its place.

You manage to shoot her a faint smile.

Your older sister had dropped off the face of the earth when you were teens, and now that you’re becoming of age, you were the only heir able to be crowned.

It felt bittersweet.

Never once in your life did you ever want the title. You grew up thinking it was always out of touch because of your place as second to the thrown. And you were fine with that. You grew with the mindset that it was never yours to begin with and let your sister take reign.

You’d sigh in relief when she would be pulled away from your play dates for classes on her duties as a future leader.

It was a so bittersweet.

When she left.

Still, you stared at yourself in the mirror with a bit of poise.

This was your moment and you took it on with a great sense of responsibility; wanting nothing more than to be the best leader to your people. You had many plans now that you had been crowned, but nothing could prepare you for today.

Descending from your mother; you were shockingly only the second queen to be crowned as of a couple days ago. The ceremony came and went so fast with everyone making a big deal out of it. This catapulted misogynistic hate back into the thoughts and mouths of other nations who were still coming around to the idea of women in power.

On the night of your 21st birthday, you were notified that your mother would be stepping down as Queen. Your father had passed away a few months ago and because of this, your nation was now unable to continue to keep peace between the neighboring nation your father was great friends with.

This nation was Sector Four and they never really liked your sector, Sector Nine, for how they ruled. Your father, who was from Sector Three, was just miraculously married to your mother and was the sole driving factor to both nations recoiling from the long history of wars and bickering.

As your mother described it, she was just excited to meet boys on the night she was to find a suitor. She did not realize when she met your fathers eyes that they belonged to none other than a friend of the enemy.

He was a godsend to your nation and the very reason your mother says she was able to face such widespread disrespect that was thrown at her for being the first Queen.

But this didn’t matter anymore. That peace and sense of tranquillity vanished the moment your father’s breath did.

Now that your father is gone, the hunger for power and the ratification of misogyny was trickling back—you were nothing to them; so long as you were your mothers child.

Regardless, life went on and the fact of the matter was that you were now Queen of a nation too and therefore had to meet a suitor.

Today would be that fateful day.

Yes, you heard that right.

Only a few days as leader and every nation in question were lining up for a piece of the power.

It was laughable.

Still, you gathered your thoughts and made yourself knowledgeable of what had to happen. Unlike your mother, you’d be prepared—this wasn’t some joyous event created for you to find a man, this was so much more than that.

“Alright, your tiara is secure.” Your mother said, meeting eyes with you in the mirror as she smoothed down the sleeves of your dress.

You let another soft smile grace your face as you started to stand.

“Thank you, Mother.” You say, albeit a bit shaky.

You didn’t want to be nervous, but the time ticking by was starting to get to you. It was already evening, the ball that your mother put in place being seconds away from starting.

“Don’t worry. So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother said, calling you by the nickname she gave you as a child.

She’d always loved daisies.

They were alright in your opinion.

You’d always prefer roses.

“I know. I’ll be fine.” You say, half trying to convince her, half trying to convince yourself.

“Very well, I better get going now. I’ll meet you out there okay? Remember to smile and have fun, alright?” She says as she walks slowly towards the door.

You nod at her.

“Yes Mother, I’ll try my best.” You say, the words being comforting to you somehow. She smiles and sends a flying kiss your way. You chuckle and catch it, much to her happiness.

Once she’s out of sight, you allow yourself some time to think.

Maybe tonight won’t be too bad. If you don’t find a suitor, so what?

There was no hurry, and you were sure everyone present was definitely not there for love. Everything is always meticulously planned when it comes to royal affairs, and anyone can rule truly.

It was just your lucky turn, so you could play by your own rules.

After talking yourself up and out of your nervousness, you decide it’s go time.

You make your way into the large hallway, it’s festive flowers lining the balcony that oversaw the foyer.

Wow, they really went all out.

Just a few halls down was the dining hall, so not many people were around. As you rounded a column in order to go down the stairs that were around the corner, you were quickly drawn out of your thoughts as you quite literally came face to face with someone else.

It all went so fast, suddenly you were falling backwards, a person falling over you too.

“Oh!” You yelled out.

My dress! This shit was hard to put on!

“Oh my! My apologies miss, I-“ Says a young man as he quickly gathers himself.

You crouch up on your elbows, looking up to meet his eyes.

He looked cute.

His features looked like a dear caught in headlights. You didn’t even know what headlights were, and you weren’t sure how you got that saying. Anyways.

“I- Your Majesty?” He utters out, as he stumbles to his feet. He was endearing.

You just stare.

“Your Majesty I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful.” He states, slightly bowing his head and holding out his hand for you to take.

You do so, placing your hand gracefully in his, the strength of his arm pulling you to your feet.

“It’s alright, I didn’t see you as well.” You say.

He clears his throat as he gets a good look at you for the first time, head slightly bowed still.

“You may be at ease.” You chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, a smile making its way onto his face. The dimples on his cheek bones poked through, his eyes forming into crescents in possible embarrassment.

A guinea pig.

He looked like a cute guinea pig.

“Well then, I take it I’ll see you during the reception?” You say, already endeared by his charms.

He looks back at you in shock and places a hand over his heart before bowing again.

“Oh- of course! It will be a pleasure to see you again Your Majesty.” He gets out, taking another bow.

You chuckle.

“Very well, I hope to find out your name then too.” You say, bowing back and making your way down the stairs.

His bow never falters, and you’re sure when you’re far enough you hear him scold himself.

You laugh to yourself.

He was endearing.

And only for a moment does it distract you from your responsibilities.

Within seconds your smile falters and you regained your poise.

It was time to address your guests.

As you walked into the corridor and greeted a bunch of royal caretakers, you greet the Royal announcer as well, making him aware of your presence so that he can announce your entrance. Once he did, everyone scrambled to make sure you were ready, fixing things unnecessarily to make things perfect.

You just let it happen of course—your nerves were starting to get the best of you anyways.

Within a few seconds, you were announced and the velvety ceiling-length curtains were opened.

You walked into the ballroom and were greeted by bright lights and loud cheers. The lighting blinded you for a second, but you didn’t let that show in your expression.

Once you were able to adjust your eyes to the room, you saw several hundred people. Some were smiling, some were serious.

You saw your mother and teachers, happiness evident in their faces to see you be announced as Queen to everyone in attendance. Then you looked over to the other nations and the suitors who were present for you.

My, oh my.

There were so many.

You let out a quiet nervous sigh as you continued through the people and made your way to your seat for the dinner to commence. Before you could sit, there were a few young men who passed near your area and bowed your way, hoping to get an early introduction in.

You chuckled.

One bowed generously, throwing you a wide gummy smile. He must be way younger than you, you note. Just as you slightly bow in response, you see him make his way closer.

He bows again before speaking, “Your Majesty, might I just say, your portraits do not do you justice.” He says, gummy smile coming back as he towered over your seated frame.

He was tall and built, but nothing could stop you from seeing his boyish nature. You let out a chuckle before replying, “And your name?”

“Gunwook. Prince Park Gunwook from Sector Five.” He says, shooting you another sly smile.

You decide to let your chuckle out a little louder this time.

“Noted, Prince Gunwook.” You smiled.

He bowed once more and walked back to what you assume is his royal friends.

Before you could catch the gazes of anymore cute faces, a plate was placed on the gold charger in front of you and everyone in attendance watched as you lifted your gauntlet of still-too-bitter wine; signaling the start of the dinner.

It was only a few hours of wining and dining under the gaze of many suitors before the most nerve racking part of the night was to commence. The classical music changed its tempo to that of dancing music, people making their way to the ballroom dance floor.

Your nerves were starting to build as the melodies played through the hall.

Looking over to your mother, you saw her gesture for you to join the dance floor despite no one asking for your hand to dance yet.

You sighed anxiously and stood slowly to your feet, your ball gown shifting to follow along. As soon as you do this, you see many figures moving, almost on par with your own movements.

Here we go.

It was obvious that the race to ask you to dance was finally here; and boy you wished your corsets hadn’t been so tightly hoisted around you.

Who even dances right after desert?

Still, you hold your chin up high and walk towards the floor as gracefully and as unfazed as you can. It’s there where you meet eyes with him again.

He smiled, whiskers reappearing. Without thinking, you walk towards him—much to everyone’s surprise. He looks shocked as he quickly aknowledges you with a bow.

“Your majesty-“ He starts.

“Would you like to dance?” You speak, cutting him off.

His shock is only evident for a moment, before he smiles bigger and holds his hand out for you to take. You smile back, already comfortable within his grasp.

Once meeting the dance floor, he turns towards you, grasping your waist and holding your other hand in his. You place your hand on his shoulder, and get a good look at him.

Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four.

“Your Majesty, thank you for approaching me first, I really am flattered.” He speaks respectfully as he leads you into the dance.

The many people in the room become nonexistent as you let him guide you.

“No need to thank me, you were the first familiar face I’d seen, so naturally I approached you.” You say, smiling shyly under his gaze.

His intentions seemed so straightforward in the way he looked at you. He had seemed entranced.

Dare you say, taken.

You decided to stare at his royal blue suit, the intensity of his gaze becoming too much.

He chuckles.

“My name is Prince Sung Hanbin, Sector Two. Please call me Hanbin, Your Highness.” He says.

This took you by surprise, so you looked up at him and re-evaluated his face.

Your mother’s best friend had a son named Hanbin, but you’d never gotten the chance to meet either of them since she was a Princess of a far away nation. Suddenly his features matched up with that of the paintings you’d seen of your mother and her closest friends when she was younger.

It all came together so seamlessly.

“Oh, so you’re thee Hanbin…” You say, staring him straight in the eyes.

This garner’s you a laugh.

“With all do respect your majesty, I think you’re the woman of the hour.” He says slyly, passing you a smile.

He was smooth.

A very respectful kind of smooth.

Just as you were going to respond, another voice chimes in.

“Pardon for the interruption, but may I have the next dance Your Majesty?” Says a handsome man, confidence seeping through his demeanor.

Hanbin stops leading you and lets go of your waist. As you turn, you meet his eyes.

Sharp and confident, just like his tone, he came off very striking. He was stunning.

If Hanbin was endearing and Gunwook was adorable, this one was gorgeous.

“If her majesty would like to, of course.” Hanbin says, you notice a little protectiveness hidden in his tone as he looks your way.

You smile up at him, barely able to take your eyes off of the new gentleman in front of you.

You notice how his red hanker-chief and red embellishments stand out compared to the rest of his solid black suit. It was all very eye-catching.

When you look back up at him, you were met with a slight smirk. He smiles down at himself for a second, a boyish look on display for only a moment in time.

This, too, takes you by surprise.

You gather yourself as Hanbin clears his throat. You were probably being watched by so many people right now. You can’t help but take note of the evergrowing tension that was starting to cement amongst you three.

“My apologies,” You say, “I’ll be alright Prince Hanbin. Thank you for your time.” You finish, shooting him a smile of gratitude.

He reciprocates it kindly and bows, then passes your hand to the man in front of you.

You take a moment to look him up and down.

Why couldn’t you? You were the Queen for crying out loud.

As you grasped his hand, his other hand goes for your waist quite smoothly. When you place your hand on his shoulder, you hear a chuckle. Your eyebrows raise at this.

“Why do you laugh?” You ask, and you can’t help that your gaurd goes up.

Maybe it was time to go back to being skillfully observant and professional—because this one made you feel uneasy.

“I’m sorry Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting your gaze.” He says, pulling you a little closer by the waist and staring down at you as he starts to lead you on the dance floor.

You note the vibrado in his tone this time, your heart doing something weird in the process. You also felt your face getting hot.

Why is it scorching in here?

“Pardon?” You say, trying to not drop into the floor.

He chuckles again as he stares down at you once more, “Nevermind that, Your Majesty. How are you feeling?” He asks.

This takes you by surprise—yet gratitude fills your heart at the fact that he even cared to ask.

“It depends. Which answer would you like to hear? The decent one….” You look up at him, meeting his playfull eyes.

“…or the truth?” You finish.

You see a glint in his eyes right before he spins you around, and when you meet again, his eyes find yours effortlessly.

“Whichever you’re willing to share, but I’d rather hear the truth.” He affirms, his serious and chic look taking reign again. You contemplate answering him altogether.

“Very well. But before I do, what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking….” You stall.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. Prince Ricky.” He states, holding up your hand that was in his grasp and placing a kiss on your knuckles that were covered by your satin gloves.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his actions, and you have to run what he says back in your mind over and over for you to even process his name.

“…It’s a pleasure to meet you…” You start, staring into his eyes as he continues making eye contact through the gesture.

You didn’t know from whomst he learned to be so smooth from, but you definitely wanted to meet them and say thank you.

He was sly like a feline.

“The pleasures all mine.” He responds and continues to guide you as the music plays.

Finally you decide to give him an answer to his earlier question.

“Truthfully, this is all planned and feels nerve-racking.” You state, deciding to stare at some people around you as you danced, getting a little too worked up by the young man’s continuous gaze.

“I can understand your majesty. Truthfully, are you even serious about finding someone tonight?” He asks a little daringly.

You roll your eyes playfully as he spun you once again, hoping you were moving too fast for others—your mother—to notice.

Ricky was making your graceful facade crumble right from beneath you, and it was something you thought you’d never let happen—let alone at the hands of someone you met a couple minutes ago.

“Truthfully?” You start, and he nods in response.

“Truthfully, yes. I need to do this for my nation.” You say, the conversation turning a bit more serious, your smile faltering.

You were starting to remember your responsibilities.

Right.

You had so much to uphold.

Ricky notices this—the change in mood.

He sighs and looks around as well, contemplating his response before he speaks.

“I can understand the heavy weight you must be carrying on your shoulders Your Majesty….” He mumbles.

Then he leans in, pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear.

“…but for now can we just be people?” He asks.

You feel your heart sink.

When he pulls away, you are met with a genuine look on his face. He smiles and looks down, a piece of his wavy blonde hair falling into his eyes. You go to move it out of his face, but just as you do, someone interrupts.

“May I have the next dance your majesty? Apologies for the disturbance-“ Someone starts, but before they can finish, a man who looks strikingly similar to Ricky steps up.

“Prince Quanrui, your mother is waiting.” He speaks, gaining Ricky’s attention.

Prince Quanrui?

You feel like the world starts spinning.

Prince Quanri.

No.

No…

NO!

“-Your Majesty!!” Your bestfriend and head-maid, Juni, exclaims, pulling you from out of your slumber, forcing you to sit up in your bed.

“Huh?!” You shoot up, chest heaving as you try to take in the feelings left behind from the dream you had just lived through.

“You wench, I’ve been yelling at you! You were starting to scare me!” Juni says, sending you a side eye as she gets up in an attempt to act irritated

All you can do is sigh in relief.

The people in your dreams resembled the same people in real life, but everything felt wrong.

Quanrui, or Ricky, had been the Prince of the neighboring nation that despises your mother, that much was true—but he was nothing like the boy you’d just interacted with in your dream just now.

From the moment you had met him as a child, he was insufferable. He’d always made fun of you and you always found yourself in constant arguments with him.

Tonight would be your suitor’s ball, but you were hoping it would go nothing like your dreams. You couldn’t even understand how you were able to dream of Ricky or see him in that light.

Yes, he was handsome, but that was besides the point.

“I’m sorry Juni, I was having a nightmare.” You say, gathering yourself and getting up from your bed.

It was time to start getting ready.

“A nightmare? ‘Oh- Prince Quanruiiii~ Oh! Do you want the truth Prince Quanrui??~’” Juni mocked as she pranced around your room with an embellished fan, obnoxiously fanning herself.

Your face went warm within seconds.

“Silence! Or I’ll make sure you’ll be serving Prince Yujin rather than Prince Jiwoong’s table tonight.” You say, daggers in your eyes being thrown her way.

Prince Yujin was your younger kid cousin, whilst Prince Jiwoong was a newly appointed royal over in Sector Eight, the latter being known for capturing the hearts of maidens across many lands.

To this, she pipes down like a startled cat, walking out of the room to do god knows what.

This leaves you alone in your room to get ready for the night—as well as all alone to your thoughts.

You sigh as you look yourself in the mirror after your bath. You brush through your hair, anxiousness coursing through your mind.

When your mother comes in and stands behind you to help you with your tiara just like you knew you’d seen before, you feel shivers go down your spine.

“Is everything alright?” She spoke with grace, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

You nod.

“Don’t worry…So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother says, calling you once again by the nickname she gave you as a child.

Your face went pale, blood running cold at this statment.

You’d always prefer roses.

Still, she continued on like a broken record.

-

After getting ready and talking yourself through your possible insanity, you meticulously decide to take another route to the reception hall—this meant taking the long way through the castle in order to get there.

Just as you round a corner very carefully, a voice takes you by surprise.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice chimes in from behind.

You jump, immediately turning around to meet sharp and playful eyes. As soon as you see him, you deadpan, automatically irritated that he graced you with his presence.

“What are you doing following me?” You stammer back harshly, immediately turning your back on him and continuing on your way. He reaches out for you and grasps your hair as you run along, letting it pass through his fingers.

“Your hair has grown longer.” He states, a smile on his face as you turn to give him a weird look.

He just chuckles and catches up to you.

“Why are you speaking to me informally, put some respect on my name.” You state, walking faster to hopefully get some distance between you two.

“Oh I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he starts, but before you can look his way, he spins you towards him and stares down at you.

You couldn’t read him really, but you knew he was probably doing this to embarrass you.

He did this to every lady.

You were sure.

“You look stunning tonight.” He states, brushing a stray part of your hair away from your forehead.

He watches as your face turns warm in color whilst doing everything in your power to try and avoid eye contact.

“Watch your trinkets Prince Ricky, I’ll make sure you go barren.” You say.

He quickly retaliates, immediately moving away—a wide-eyed smile playing on his face.

“Your Majesty, don’t speak that way. You don’t want your suitors to know you’re already thinking of me and children in your life.” He states, quickly sprinting off knowing you would resort to violence at his comment.

You catch his wide smile as he saunters off.

You were so tired of him.

-

With a fast heart beat, you ready yourself to take on the crowd for what felt like the second time today. You tried your best to get the events that just played out, out of your head; trying to convince yourself that your responsibilities and duties as a Queen were of the utmost importance. When the curtains open and your full name is announced, the same scenery you had dreamt of had come to life.

Your mom smiled the same way.

Your teachers did too.

The suitors all scurried to try and approach you just like you had seen before.

You walked over and sat in the same seat.

And there he was, that gummy smile introducing himself all over again.

It was unnerving this time.

The only thing that differed from your dream was the run in with the boy named Hanbin earlier within the day.

Instead, Ricky took his place. In a way, this excited you. Maybe what was to play out was that Hanbin would take Ricky’s spot too.

You smiled to yourself, the sound of music ringing throughout the hall as the strings and flutes played. This time, you didn’t need to search in your mothers eyes for what you should do next. You stand up, dress trailing in your wake.

You feel the room watching your every move. As you step out into the free open space on the dance floor, your eyes searching for him.

If everything play’s out like it did in the dream with only a few substitutions, it should all work out in your favor.

You turn gracefully, finding him on one side of the room. As soon as you see him and you make eye contact, he smiles, albeit a bit shocked.

Alright, you got this.

You take a step in his direction.

Then another.

And even when you see people make their way towards you, you continue towards him.

As you grow closer, his smile drops.

And when you stand in front of him, he stares you down, more serious than you had ever seen him.

“Would you like to dance?” You ask.

He looks around, fake smile on display to try and play off what was currently going down.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing?” He mutters, holding his hand out for you to place yours in.

“Just follow my lead.” You whisper as he bows before looking back up at you.

He takes your hand in his and pulls it towards his lips, taking you completely by surprise.

“You know they won’t like this.” He states, but gives you a smile contrary to his words.

He leads you out to the dance floor.

“I know,” You start, “…but I’m not doing this for you. Or them.” You say, making eye contact again with Ricky, his hand finding it’s way to your waist.

He chuckles at this, his smile reaching his striking eyes as he looks everywhere but at you, probably trying to sell the narrative that you two were having a decent conversation.

You two had always been around each other growing up, sworn enemies by the nations you both belonged to. It was just how it worked out, so you weren’t sure if anyone in the crowd was buying this.

“You sure? I see the way your cheeks go rosy when I tease you.” He speaks, looking back down to you.

This was the one time you recognize his height, because even though he’d tease you, you’d never stayed this close long enough to realize how his frame made you look almost sickly.

“I feel so sorry for you Prince Ricky. You’re so delusional, you don’t even realize how much you’ve rotted your looks away due to your own selfishness.” You mutter, starting to look around for the guinea pig who should be saving you at any moment from this hell.

If everything went to plan, the whiskered boy would take Ricky’s place and you’d dance the night away in contrary to how your dream turned out.

If everything went to plan.

“Oh, so you admit your attraction. I hate to break it to you Your Majesty, but I am not looking to be courted.” He says smugly, finally looking at you, mischief hidden in his eyes as his smile fades. It was almost a serious look.

You scoff at his words nonetheless.

“Say what you want. I know what I’m here for.” You say, continuing to look around.

Where are you?

Ricky notices this and starts to look around as well.

“Who are you searching for? You’re missing the whole reason you asked me to dance.” He says, half teasing, half confused.

You roll your eyes, but continue to search through the crowd.

“Right. Because i so badly wanted to dance with you.” You say, your tone contradicting your words.

Before you could hear out his next words, you were pulled closer by the waist. Your attention snaps to Ricky, meeting his eyes for the ninth time that day.

This time, he definitely looked serious.

A little too serious.

Despite this, you couldn’t look away. You take in the way his eyes look back and forth between each of your own. Without realizing your line of sight trails down to the swoop of his nose, and you see the way his cheeks smooth down to his sharp jaw. You didn’t even want to glance at the wording on the side of his neck. He was breathtaking—so long as he kept his mouth shut.

He looked just like the woman who hated your mothers guts.

When you trail to his lips, you see them upturn slowly. And just like that, you’re brought back to reality.

“Your Majesty-“ A voice chimes in, interrupting the moment.

You quickly snap your neck toward the voice.

Much to your dismay, it was a woman.

“Pardon Your Royal Highness, but may I steal Prince Quanrui for a dance?” She utters, smiling your way with innocence.

You hated that she too had whiskers.

You took in the way her yellow dress contradicted your red one; tailored to match her every inch, including her eye smile.

She was gorgeous.

And when you glance back at Ricky, that pretty entrancing look is gone from his eyes.

And he wasn’t Ricky.

He was Prince Quanrui.

“Ah- If I’m not interrupting anything, that is.” The girl states as she bows your way shyly.

You clear your throat and let go of Ricky’s shoulder, turning to reciprocate her bow.

“Of course. I don’t mind.” You say.

But you do.

You gave Ricky one last look, taking in the way his wavy blonde hair fell into his eyes. Naturally, his suit catches your eye again too; the pretty red roses looking a little different this time.

Roses had always been your favorite.

You send him a faint smile before you face the crowd again. It was an embarrassment that another suitor had taken away your current dance partner away. This was your suitors ball after all, but in that moment you couldn’t have cared less.

Guinea pig wasn’t here.

He didn’t ask you to dance.

Your dream was wrong, and he didn’t exist.

You walked back towards your seat, hoping to get a little rest after dancing for so long.

Despite how you were feeling, you kept your poise and grace as you went. Anyone watching would have thought you weren’t phased.

Everyone but your mother.

She met you back at your seat, brushing off suitors who were approaching you to dance in her wake.

“Are you alright, My Dear?” She asks, sitting down next to you whilst taking a sip of her drink.

You smile her way.

“Yes.”

“His eyes.” She mutters.

You stare at her in confusion.

“Your father got in the habit of gazing at me like that.” She finishes.

Within another minute, she was up and off, but not without leaving you with one last statment.

“Roses also deserve to be picked, regardless of their thorns.” She whispers, just enough for only you to hear, then you are once again left all alone to the maze that is your mind.

You look over to him.

He danced with this fake smile, his flirty eyes contrary to how lightly he grasped the young ladies waist.

It was all the confirmation you needed.

You knew he’d loved you your whole childhood.

You just knew.

Without thinking, you make your way across the ballroom floor.

Nothing could stop you.

No one.

“Your Highness?” A voice chimes up, trying to stop you on your way towards your destiny. You stop, but your eyes are still fixated on Ricky.

“Yes?” You say awkwardly, not even looking their way.

“Hello,” they bow, and you’re barely able to see their figure out of your peripheral vision, sight still set on one of the few blondes in the room.

“Uh- I’m a Prince from Sector Two, and I couldn’t help but-“ He notices your averted attention.

“-I couldn’t help but be in awe of-“ He follows your gaze.

Oh.

You finally take a moment to look towards the owner of the voice tripping over their words. You are met with a shy young man, smiling down in defeat, dimpled lines on the apples of his cheeks.

Him.

“I’m, sorry.” He says before he clears his throat to speak again.

“I couldn’t help but be in awe of your beauty, and it seems I know why.” He finishes. He finally looks you in the eyes.

Sung Hanbin, Sector Two.

“You have eyes I long for, but I see they burn for something else.” He finishes saying, a heartbreakingly respectful but sad smile gracing his face.

You just stare back in awe.

“Have a wonderful night, Your Majesty.” He says, defeat running rampant in his pretty eyes.

“I wish you happiness and health in abundance; truly.” He lets out, bowing before sending you one last smile.

He’s real.

You’re taken aback for a moment as you watch his figure fade back into the crowd, but then you remember the fire that was lit inside you before this interaction.

Right.

Whiskers was sadly the last of your worries right now, and the next thing that happens just confirms this.

When you turn back around, you meet eyes with him.

This time, he’s closer than you’d thought he’d be and you almost bump into his chest as a whole. With a few swift movements his hand finds your elbow, helping to steady you.

You can feel the warmth from him seep onto you—or maybe it was coming from you?

“There you are. I thought pretty boy might have entranced you.” He states, shooting a look in the direction whiskers had left. He over fixates on that area but you continue to look up at him and stare, taking him in all over again.

When he looks back down at you, the glint in his eyes change.

Ricky.

“Prince Quanrui.” You utter out.

His eyes turn blank.

You chuckle.

“Ricky?” You question, searching his eyes for change.

His eyebrows frown, and he tilts his head at you with his hands still placed on your elbow, but there’s that spark of life that’s ignited after you call him by his nickname.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” He questions, completely confused.

You smile up at him genuinely.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever regarded him as adorable before, but what was cute if not him right now?

“I really love daisies, did you know?” You ask, taking him in for all that he is, not caring if you two were stood standing in the middle of the banquet.

He speaks up quickly after registering your words, leaving no time or space to ponder them, “Nonsense, roses are your favorite—especially the red ones. Who are you and what did you do with the Queen?” He asks playfully, letting go of your arm and looking around like the playfull person he always was.

You stare at him, probably smiling like an idiot. He just waits for your response but when it never comes, he looks down at you in confusion.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He finally decides to ask once his eyes land on yours.

“Ricky, I know you’re in love with me.” You state plainly.

His heart drops and you can see the warmth leave his face. He scoffs ironically, and looks around anxiously whilst he dusts himself off.

“Wow, that’s a good one, Your Highness. You’re really getting good at that-“ He starts, but before he can finish his fluster of a comeback, you grab him by the collar and pull him close.

It wasn’t close enough for your faces to be touching, but now your faces were closer than they’d ever been before. You can hear his breath get caught in his throat, and you watch as he gulps in order to cope with what was happening.

You smirk, looking into his eyes.

You were definitely starting to feel the power of a Queen alright.

“Ricky, I’m going to walk away. And when I do, I will continue to walk and never look back.” You whisper as you study him.

You watch as his eyes looked down to your lips and back up.

Precisely.

However, before you could even pull away, you are yanked forward as he brings his lips next to your ear.

“Let’s say you are correct; I am madly in love with you,” He starts out as a whisper, “…are you willing to deal with the repercussions?”

His tone is playful, and you can hear the smile in his words. He was definitely acknowledging the fact that you two had already been acting so inappropriately infront of all your guests—yet he did not care and was waiting for your permission to proceed.

Waiting for you to acknowledge him fully for what he was.

The sworn enemy who was supposed to hate your guts.

You smirk as you pull away.

“Rules and repercussions are for the people; I am your Queen.” You state boldly, a smile radiating onto your face.

He smiles too, your words garnering a laugh as he pulls away and slightly throws his head back in amusement.

He was really something.

When he leans back towards your face in an effort to keep the conversation between just the two of you, your heart to ascends into your throat.

“Y/n, are you serious?” He asks as he searches in each of your eyes for any sign of regret or even a glint of mischief. He really hoped this wasn’t a joke despite your two’s very playful attitudes.

You watch him, knowing that deep down this is all you’ve ever wanted. Then you send him a smile; and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

Within seconds he pulls you in, placing his pretty lips onto yours.

Finally.

Even the gasps you could hear from around you couldn’t tear you out of the moment you were having.

He was delicate with you; moving his lips on yours like you’d wither from beneath him. His hand that now held your waist inched you closer and closer; it was as if the act you two were in the middle of still wasn’t close enough for him.

When you finally pull away, he places one last kiss on your lips, before he stares down at them. A grin makes it’s way onto his face before he’s looking around at the people in the room without ever meeting your eyes.

He ignores the angry looks on his people’s face, deciding to shoot them the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen as he focuses back in on you.

“I knew the dream potion would work, maybe meeting you through your dreams wasn’t a bad idea.” He mutters, grasping your hand and pulling you back in and close to him.

Your expression falls as your eyes go wide.

“What did you say?” You ask, half trying to process his words, half going to lose your mind if you heard him correctly.

He freezes and stares down at you like a dear caught in headlights.

Once again, you don’t know why that imagery popped in your head, but alas.

“It’s nothing, Your Majesty. May i have this dance?” He asks cheekily, not knowing if he should continue to play it off or make a run for it. He was always so playful and mischievous.

He was always so…himself.

He was always Ricky.

And you liked every bit of him unfortunately.

He was your favorite.

“Going once…Going twice…” He lets out playfully, holding his hand out closer towards you to take. You do so gracefully, a smile now making its way back onto your face.

When he leads you to the center of the dance floor, he pulls you close and urges you to rest your head near his heart. The music plays on and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you two in disbelief—but it did not matter.

This was your favorite place to be.

“Did you know I actually prefer daisies?” Ricky speaks out of nowhere, his soothing tone cutting through the music that played throughout the hall as you lifted your head and searched his eyes.

There it was again.

That pretty cat-eye gaze of his; fixated only on you.

“They’re my favorite, Y/n…”

“You’re my favorite.”

2024 © lovepookie

♡︎ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

[wreckedandpolemic]

regret me girlie pregnancy scare after a one-night-rebound with matty that ends up being negative and she's actually unexpectedly sad about it(?)

or

regret me matty and girlie breaking up for good

(I actually love anything angsty so whatever you'll write will be great for me lol)

first of all they’re never breaking up for good it took girlie nearly 15 years to lock that boy tf down you think she’s letting him go again???

but anyways. yes. you’re chucking your guts up for the third morning in a row, which you’d usually put down to some sickness you picked up at a gig in a dive bar, but it managed to coincide with your period being concerningly late. so, in short, you’re absolutely terrified.

it’s matty’s, it has to be, you think, running through the last six weeks or so in your head. you’ve not fucked anyone in nearly a month, too sickly addicted to replaying the memory of matty tying your legs to the bed and taking what he needed, when he needed for hours on end. and, before that, it’s been girls for a long while, so.

you stare at your phone, hovering over his contact, warring with yourself for nearly an hour with silent tears rolling down your face. is it fair? to call him before you even know? is it selfish that of all the people in your life, it’s him you want with you through this? even if you’re not pregnant, it’s his support you crave.

and, fuck, what if you are pregnant? you can’t be a fucking mother! matty sure as fuck can’t be a father, and the two of you definitely cannot be parents together. the fucked-up nature of your relationship suddenly zooms into crystal-clear focus, and you break down all over again. you should call sabrina. or grace, she has a level head. fuck, even george would be better than matty. you cannot call matty.

you hit call. matty declines almost immediately, and you try not to feel it like a knife. you call him back, text it’s important. i’m serious. and wait as he deliberates. the phone rings out, and you give up, scrolling down to find sabrina, until matty’s contact flashes back up. you had better not be fucking me about.

tears well in your eyes at the mere sound of his voice. i, uh… you can hear shrieking and a thumping bass in the background. where are you right now?

none of your fucking business, he snaps. what do you want? he demands, and you hear an obnoxious, drunk giggle of his name. i don’t want your whore of the week hearing my business, matthew. go outside, get yourself alone, you order, and he scoffs. but the bass and the voices quieten, and then a door slams. talk.

i think i might be pregnant, you rush out. silence. matty..? it’s almost a full minute of silence, and you go to check if the call dropped when he speaks. are you sure? what a fucking stupid question. what the fuck does i think mean to you?

why are you calling me ‘cause you think you’re pregnant? matty says, shockingly, bluntly callous. your mouth drops open. i might be pregnant with your fucking baby and that’s all you have to say to me?! you demand. well, what do you want me to do from la? fly back and hold your hand while you piss on a stick? and how the hell do i know it’d be mine, anyway? it’s been a month. could’ve fucked anyone, n’come running to me for the money after the fact.

i fucking hate you. you hang up, numb and livid in equal measure as you tear open the test with shaking hands. the longest minutes of your life are spent with tears streaming down your face and dripping into your hands while you wait for the timer to run out. a single, pink line stares up at you. negative.

i’m not pregnant. and i haven’t fucked anyone since you, for the record.

you wait for the relief to flood you, for the gladness that you won’t be irrevocably tied to matty for the rest of your lives whatever you chose. but the tiny little line just sits mockingly on your bathroom counter, unchanging and impassive. wanting someone’s love is a horrible reason to have a child, you know, and it would never have healed your damage. but still, you let yourself feel the loss as you weep into your hands.

what you don’t know is that matty, now alone in his hotel room, is staring down at his phone and feeling the exact same pain.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Hey I just saw Ur account and I was wondering can you do a nanami protective x Y/n

But y/n is wearing a really short skirt with a shirt revealing her breasts pls ?

Oooommmmgggg, yesssssssss 😩😩 I love protective Nanami because he's such a gentleman... thank you so much, anon, for your ask!! Hope I did it justice 🤭 kinda angsty, I'm sorryyyy ☹️

I've Got You ♥︎

"Where are you headed again, sweetheart?" Your boyfriend's baritone voice echoed through the hall of your small apartment while you finished zipping up the back of your flimsy skirt.

Three gentle knocks wrung out against the thin wood of your bedroom door before you gave the 'O.K.' and Nanami gently twisted the knob, peeking his head in.

"Just going to that new bar... for Gojo's birthday? You remember, don't you?" The innocence of your tone and the slight pout on your face as you reviewed your makeup in the mirror almost distracted him from your new outfit. Almost.

"Oh." Was all he said as his eyes slowly fell to your toes, not yet secured in the stiletto heels sitting by your desk, slowly walking up to the puckered line of fabric ghosting across your upper thigh. His eyebrows lifted as did his eyes, and finally, he landed on the deep cleavage top you wore, clinging and encasing your chest.

You turned towards him in confusion at the monotone, borderline uninterested sound of his singular word.

Kento stared back at you, the tiniest smirk on his sharp features as he admires the necklace hanging on your neck, falling between your collar bones. A simple 'K' intial, adorned with small diamonds.

You wait for him to say anything else, characteristically quiet, but shockingly unopinionated.

"Hm. What time do you have to be there?" Nanami's face once again flattens as he peers down at his watch, adjusting the cool silver on his skin.

"About 9:00, I think...why?" You ask, preoccupied with hanging other wardrobe options back on their designated hangers. What seals the deal for Nanami was the way your tits puff out from the neckline of your top as you lean over the bed.

He turns on his heels, leaving your room but not before adding, "Be ready to leave in thirty."

...

This isn't really Kento's scene. At all. Loud music, bright lights, and sweaty strangers. He wasn't the happiest when he found the "new bar" was more like a lively club. He sticks out like a sore thumb. With his hair gelled back, a white button-up shirt, his beige suit jacket, and stiff dress pants, he was undeniably Kento. It was almost laughable, the way he looked so out of place.

Gojo was ecstatic to see his buddy, and the only thing getting Nanami through the night was the feeling of your arm around his waist. Until it wasn't. You were nowhere to be seen after he handed you a twenty dollar bill to get a drink for you to share. Nanami's eyes were shifty as he nodded away Gojo's yapping before holding his hand out, a simple, "Excuse me," leaving his lips as he began stalking through the crowd to find you.

It didn't take long before he saw you, wrist stolen by an unknown lanky man as you were looking opposite to him, seemingly trying to ignore him.

Nanami mumbles small 'pardon me's' as he pushes his way through the mass of heated flesh.

...

You couldn't feel more uncomfortable... almost guilty. You thought the outfit was a little much, but you felt good. You LOOKED good. But now you didn't feel good at all.

You walked up to the bar, smiling as the bartender quickly took your order and crafted your drink. Naturally, you were approached but quickly made it known that you were taken, happy, and uninterested. He didn't care, though. He wasn't even listening, too focused on looking down your shirt.

You attempted to stutter your way out of the situation, grabbing your drink from the bartender, fleeing before you could collect any change. You didn't make it very far before you felt a hand on your wrist and a drop in your stomach.

...

Nanami felt anger bubble up in his chest as he caught a glimpse of tears prickling up in your eyes. He pushed against people more aggressively, finally making his way to you.

Without thinking, he grabbed the man's wrist, replacing yours with his hand, politely (harshly) shaking the man's hand as if he were in a furious business meeting.

"I don't think we've met before. You know my wife?" Nanami smiles, not letting it reach his eyes as he uses his other hand to pull you into him by the waist.

"Your wife? Uh, sorry, man, I didn't see a ring." The man no longer seems so confident as your stoic man finally drops his hand.

"It's too expensive to wear to a place like this. Wouldn't want something to happen to it. I assume it costs more than your yearly income." Kento stands up a bit taller as he feels you mush your face against his ribcage, resting into him. Trusting him.

The man mumbles something along the lines of, "shit dude, my bad," before stumbling off, conquered.

Kento turns to you, examining the red marks on your wrist before bringing it to his lips.

"'M so sorry, dear." He leans down so you can hear him, only making your increasing sniffles more prominent in his ear.

"No, no, Ken. Don't apologize. I just - I... can we please go home? I'm sorry, I should've know. Shouldn't of worn this." Tears stream down your face as you feel the guilt over take your heart, eyes filling with salty shame.

"Don't say that. You look very beautiful, sweetheart. That man was just an animal." Kento rubs your back as he leads you to the exit, shrugging away your worries about leaving without saying goodbye with a, "I'm sure they'll understand, honey," and a kiss to the forehead.

Once you get outside, Kento places his lightly burnt-shaded business coat on your shoulders, picking you up bridal style as he makes his way down the empty street. You inhale deeply for the first time since you walked into the stuffy, overcrowded club, taking in the smell of fresh air and your sweetheart. Your heart beats in tune with his as he holds you close, resting his head on yours. And you're safe.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

Thanks so much again to Anon! I love asks, they're like little presents 🤭

[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. 

[yourresidentstanlover]

I can't sleep and I have to get up in less than 4 hours for school n shit, so have some of my thoughts about fiddlestan and fiddauthor.

DISCLAIMER: I have not read the entirety of The Book of Bill, or Journal 3. I've only seen snippets online. I want to get them both, tho. I'll get my hands on em once it gets less cold and icy around here.

Sooo fiddlestan. I like it, and it has a loooot of potential for angst. HOWEVER, I don't like when people villainize Ford just to make Fidds get with Stan. I do think that Ford cares deeply about Fiddleford, he just doesn't really know how to express it, and is entirely oblivious to any feelings Fiddleford may have for him (c'mon man, he left his wife and kids to study weird shit in the woods with you).

Now for Stan with Fiddleford, I don't really see that relationship lasting, at least not healthily (is that an actual word?? Whatever, you know what I'm sayin). If going the angsty route, I think Fidds would at first try to replace Ford with Stanley in an attempt to regain the man he lost. And Stanley would be open to the affection Fidds gives him cause he's touch-starved, and I don't think anyone's said "I love you" to him for a minimum of ten years. But Fiddleford would realize that Stan isn't Ford, no matter how much he tries to delude himself into thinking he is. And Stan would realize that Fidds just isn't his type or somethin.

Ok now fiddauthor. I love this so much, both when Stanford and Fiddleford are young and when they're old (people are sleeping on that old man yaoi!!). I also headcanon Ford as asexual. I looooveee the thought of fiddauthor in the 70s while they were in college, breaking up for whatever reason (or just kinda drifting apart if it wasn't a committed relationship or whatever), and Ford's lil heart breaking when Fidds marries Emma May.

Alternatively, I do kinda like the thought of a poly relationship between Fiddleford, Emma May, and Stanford. That would be a fun au to make a comic about. I have been wanting to make an Emma May design for a bit now lol.

But when they're older and working in Gravity Falls, oh god sooo much angsty potential with infidelity and unrequited feelingsss (technically they're both in love with each other, but neither are good at ✨️ communication ✨️). Ford would probably be so absorbed with Bill, and listening to his manipulations to actually recognize Fiddleford's feelings for him.

And when they're old ass men? Ugh so much fluff can happen from them finally making up for lost time or somethin. People really sleep on the true old man yaoi lmao.

On a slightly separate note, I do ship Billford, and I have thoughts about it that I'm not gonna get into here. But I'll give ya the abridged version: I like shipping it, I don't like romanticizing it, and i like seeing how the relationship had a lasting effect on Ford. I don't like shipping them post-weirdmageddon, and i don't think Bill can truly be redeemed. I have mixed feelings on those redemption au's. I also like triangle fucking jokes. I'm sorry but that is comedy gold.

Also I'm gonna (eventually) make a post talking about my oc x canon ship (Kyle x Stanley). I personally love them (obviously), they're two gay old criminals who have shockingly similar pasts. What's not to love? Also it's a fun way to explore writing older characters with different body types, since before, most of the characters i drew were young twinks, beefed up guys/girls, and skinnier women. Drawing these old men has really helped with diversifying the body types I draw.

Alright, ramble over. Goodnight everyone.

(Also while writing this, I broke into a coughing fit. I hope i didn't catch my dad's cold lmao. God is trying to stop me from talking about yaoi, but dammit, I can't be stopped >:3)

[violettduchess]

A/N: I've been thinking a lot about shorter, little bite-sized bits of writing. I've seen them called drabbles or ficlets (I don't like either name tbh) but they are more manageable for me right now than longer fics.

I'll write them when I can and to keep them a bit organized, I'll group them together in a series I'm calling Moments in Time. Just short, little snapshots of different moments between characters, sometimes Reader and sometimes my OCs.

They may be fluffy or spicy or angsty or comfort or silly. Whatever strikes me!

Some will be based on requests still in my inbox, some will be just my own musings and things I want to write and maybe I'll take requests here and there when I can.

Anyway, thanks for reading all this. I appreciate you doing so💜Enough rambling: Here's the first one!

Keith x Reader

WC: 450

The rain pours down from weeping clouds, the kind that cover the entire sky, gray and heavy with unknown sorrows. You duck into the greenhouse, seeking shelter from the aquatic assault, your clothing heavy with water and sticking unpleasantly to your skin. The rain has plucked at your hair, freeing strands from your hair pins and curls them around its curious fingers. It leaves them framing your face, a flushed portrait of surprise and escape.

Catching your breath, you listen to the steady drumming sound that fills the usually quiet space of the greenhouse and breathe in deeply. If the color green had a smell, this would be it. It’s petrichor and loam, it’s soft and sweet and earthy. The ground when it’s been tilled. The opening of rose blossoms. The blush of springtime, the kiss of summer, the waning sigh of autumn.

You don’t know he is in here too until he says your name. The consonants and vowels of it fill space between the raindrops, rumbling through the glass enclosure on the waves of his deep, sonorous voice.

Keith.

His eyes are brighter than lightning. They gleam gold, sharp and shiny as he takes in the sight of you. He misses nothing: the parting of your lips as your heartbeat quickens, the clenching of your fingers into the wet folds of your skirt, the tension in your shoulders when you find yourself alone with him.

The answering flash of desire in your own gaze.

He crosses the space, his long legs swallowing the distance between you greedily. This isn’t the gentle prince you’ve come to know. This is the other prince. The prince who is sharp-edged, dangerously beautiful and shockingly unapologetic. Fearless in the face of his own wants.

And now he wants you.

You’ve walked the line of yearning before with him but never crossed it. A brush of hands here, a knowing smile there. Always dancing along the precipice but never diving off into the dark unknown.

Not until now. Now when the world outside is raging, when rules are scattered in the unfettered wind and the rain is chanting:

Now.

Now.

Now.

Wordlessly, he pulls you into his arms and you yield willingly, anticipation surging through your veins in turbulent waves.

He kisses you.

He finally, finally kisses you and just like that, your life is forever divided into before and after. 

He kisses you and just like that, the world blurs. It’s washed away because there is nothing but the feel of his powerful hands on your waist, the exquisite taste of his mouth, the savory scent of him.

He kisses you and just like that you’re devoted. Obsessed. Captivated. You will crave him every moment you are apart and even more when you are together.

He kisses you, hungrily, greedily, with rapidly growing need. He sinks to the ground with you held possessively against him, lust and fervor rushing through you both, wild and unstoppable.

And just like that, you’re his.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia

@wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary

@namine-somebodies-nobody @whatever-fanfics @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia

@themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

@keithsandwich @mrlovesimps

[yuri-is-online]

Hello, hello! Congrats on making the 300 follower milestone!👍 Well done! For the event, can I request prompt no. 17 with Riddle, Leona and Jamil, please? Thank you and kudos!

17. Kissing under the fireworks

Thank you friend! Very on brand request for Jamil ha ha. I accidentally made Leona's part angsty I am so sorry

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Riddle is a bit awkward, references to the events at the very end of Ch. 5/beginning of Ch. 6 (Leona- hurt with heavy focus on comfort), references to the events of the Firelit Sky Event (Jamil- nothing too specific). Check out the rest of the requests on my masterlist here.

Riddle

"Are you ok Riddle? You're really tense." You ask and wonder if it was smart, the comment makes Riddle even more rigid to a degree that has to be painful. "I can let go of your hand-"

"No!" You shouldn't be so surprised how loudly he protests, emphasizing his point by intertwining your fingers without his usual embarrassment. "We are on a date so we are holding hands." Seeing that this does not persuade you he less certainly adds: "I want to hold your hand."

"I want to hold your hand too." You reassure him, squeezing his hand to emphasize the point making Riddle practically glow with happiness. He squeezes your hand as you both settle into the colosseum bleachers waiting for the fireworks show to begin. There is a part of you that wonders what Riddle has planned, he always has some sort of itinerary when you go on dates which sounds annoying but in practice is sort of cute. Riddle needs structure to feel comfortable, and if he needs to make a mental checklist to feel comfortable holding your hand you don't mind. He's relaxing into you the longer you spend together, eventually that checklist will fade into habit and Riddle will be able to hold your hand without looking smug every time he looks down at your intertwined fingers.

Fireworks burst into the sky illuminating that smug smile and the flicker of uncertainty as his blue grey eyes focus on your lips. A normal person might not think of giving their partner a kiss as a rule, but Riddle does. Clumsily he closes the distance and bumps more than he kisses your cheek, immediately sending his mind into a panic when you turn to him confused.

But then you smile, happiness bathed in red, blue, green as you lean forward to help him achieve his goal. You kiss him and melt away all thoughts of rules and obligation under a wave of wonder and happiness.

Leona

It's strange to see Leona up this late. Stranger still that this is, apparently, completely of his own free will. "I'm surprised you asked me to come, I thought you'd hate stuff like this."

"And I'm surprised you're this excited over somethin' this simple." He neither confirms or denies your accusation, instead settling himself close to your side on the shockingly nice blanket he had insisted on bringing onto the green.

"I've never seen magic fireworks before." You mutter, and Leona is merciful enough not to laugh out loud. It's weird, this soft way he's treating you. Not that you're complaining exactly, after the incident with Grim you barely got a chance to really enjoy any of the culture fair. You didn't go out to see any of the booths past Riddle's tour until Leona dragged you out of bed this afternoon in a trope reversal that stunned you too much to properly protest. There's a part of you that wonders, well more like worries, that Leona's only really taken you around today out of some misguided sense of obligation; you can't see him ever doing anything out of pity.

Not when he braces you against his chest just before the show begins, not when he makes sure you are comfortable with the level of noise, or how he makes sure not to put too much pressure on your wound when he nuzzles himself into your neck as the show truly starts. No, there's nothing resembling pity in the way Leona looks at you.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" He contentedly murmurs in your ear, pressing a brief kiss to your cheek before you drag him back to you for a longer one on your lips.

No, there's nothing resembling pity in the way Leona looks at you; just love, and maybe an annoyingly smug sense of satisfaction.

Jamil

"Before you start, I know what I said last year and I do not want to hear about it." You aren't certain why Jamil is bringing this up now when he hadn't while inviting you. Maybe because the last time you were under these canopies you weren't friends, so the numerous less than kind things he's said about you are whirling around in his mind.

You wonder what that Jamil would think if he saw this Jamil holding you in his lap while you wait for the show to start. He'd probably have a stroke.

"I don't really remember what you're talking about." You had been really excited about seeing fireworks and having fun dressing up to really think about Jamil being, well, a bit of a sourpuss. "Besides it can't be worse than anything else you've ever said about me." Jamil is far from sour now, the smile on his face as he pulls you up to your feet to begin dancing in tune with the show is exceptionally mischievous.

"It wasn't about you really, even if I wasn't conscious of it I knew I wanted to bring you back here someday." That's news to you, sure he said he felt bad about making more work for you and had made sure to dance with you during that show, but it's not like he'd had his eye on you before his overblot. As if he could read your mind, or maybe to be more accurate as if he had been trying to provoke that exact thought, he makes sure to dance more intimately than he did last time, reaching to hold you in his arms as the climax of the show explodes above you. The first kiss is brief, a gentle peck because he wants to get a good look at you in your outfit bathed in the firelit sky before the second.

It had been an idle thought then, but if that Jamil could see this one his smug satisfaction would outweigh the embarrassment. To be anyone's first choice was a win, to be yours? A complete and total victory.

[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard 3

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: the sexual tension between the fml and the sabbath plss 🥹

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.

"What do you need from me again?" I said with annoyance.

Just as I expected, the Sabbath Crew was still here. Even after my conversation with Jay earlier about the assignment we were going to do together, they waited for me to finish. Joker was leaning against the car while Wooin stood beside him. Vinny and Grim were at the back of the car, seemingly indifferent to my presence.

Vinny and I made eye contact, so I gave him a sharp look in return. His gaze remained cold, so I looked away.

"Are you seriously considering joining that useless team?" Wooin asked irritably, hands tucked in his pockets. I crossed my arms in response.

"I don't see why you're so bothered about it," I retorted.

Since the day I arrived in Korea, Wooin was the first person I met here. He approached me first and shockingly, he already knew my name. That's why we ended up in a situation where I was going to sell my bike to him because he said he wanted to see it when we met again.

Wooin approached me with a swagger.  "I offered you a spot in our crew, but you turned it down. You'd rather side with Hummingbird?"

"They don't even compare to the Monsters," Joker muttered.

"I-I'm not really going to join," I looked at Vinny. "I just challenged Jay because I was bored. I already told you, I'm done with biking—"

"Do you think anyone will buy that lame excuse?" Vinny cut in, moving closer. "After all Wooin did for you, this is how you repay him?"

His words left me bewildered.

"Vinny," Grim scolded. I became even more confused.

"Your family owes some money to Sangho, right?" Wooin smirked evilly.

My face drained of color at the mention of that name, a figure my family had been evading for a long while. Fear was written all over me, but I struggled to maintain composure. How did they find out? Are they connected to him somehow? What kind of mess have I landed myself in now?

"H-How..."

"I've already settled it, Demitra," he murmured, drawing closer. "Just join us. Simple, isn't it?" He grinned, locking eyes with me. My heart raced, and I found myself fixated on his lips. Swallowing hard, I tried to snap out of it.

What's happening to me? I should be afraid of this man. Demitra, wake up! No matter how attractive these guys are, you shouldn't be easily swayed.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" I whispered.

"We know who you are, Demitra. The Famous Biking Princess of the Underground," Wooin continued, causing my face to pale even more as I stepped back.

"Korea's underground is better than your own country. Why not give it a try?" Wooin brushed aside a strand of hair blocking my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"You did a background check on me. What the heck?" I retorted, a mix of anger and disbelief in my voice.

He laughed. "You and Joker would definitely get along. He's into underground cage fights too," He gestured towards Joker, who was also watching me intently.

I was too angry to speak. I can't believe these guys. I don't know what they want from me, but there's one thing I need to worry about. They found out my identity that I've been avoiding for so long. Yes, they are not the only ones to become addicted to bikes; I did too. That's how I earned the title of Bike Princess in the underground because I used to take on challenges there. I raced against others for money, and obviously, I always won, which made my name famous back then.

But that's all in the past. I want to forget about it because my life wasn't great while I was in the underground. While I enjoyed spending my money, it came at the cost of my parents' suffering. I was immature back then, unaware that my parents owed a huge debt to a man named Sangho.

I shifted my gaze to Wooin. This man paid my parents' debt just like that. It was so simple for him.

I lowered my head, realizing I had no reason to be upset with someone who had helped me.

"Why do you want me to join your group when it's clear that some of your members don't agree?" I glanced at Vinny, who appeared affected by my words.

"I don't want you because you'll only make things worse for us," Vinny stated bluntly. "Some of them are getting too fixated on you."

Wooin and Joker both turned to look at Vinny almost at the same time. Their intense gazes made me feel flustered. My heart raced, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. Why would they be obsessed with someone like me?

"Hey," Joker warned Vinny.

"Shut up, you're into this too. Damn it," Vinny cursed.

"I-I'm sorry..." I bowed my head. They fell silent. "But I can't join your crew, not after what happened to me in the underground." My voice trembled, recalling the dark past. I felt the intense gazes of Wooin and Joker.

"But I'll do whatever you ask..." I tilted my head to meet Wooin's eyes directly. His gaze darkened, but he maintained a playful grin "In exchange for your help."

He nodded. "Get her in the car. We'll talk in a club. We'll discuss what happened to you back then--"

I interrupted Wooin. "I can't talk about that," I said abruptly. He furrowed his brow, waiting for more. "I know you have ties to Sangho."

"What has he done now?" Vinny asked impatiently.

Avoiding eye contact, I noticed Joker taking the skateboard from my hands. I looked up at him, finding his face void of emotion.

"Did he touch you?" he whispered. I quickly shook my head and hesitantly glanced at Wooin. They all watched me intensely, as if I were prey. Their looks stirred something within me. Joker and I weren't close—hell, he was practically a stranger to me. But the way he acted made it seem like we were close to each other.

"No," I replied. "But I've made some enemies in the underground. I had to escape because I knew they would kill me. I ran into dangerous people while racing. I believe they were also associated with Sangho." Heat rose in my eyes as I spoke.

Joker tensed up visibly. Grim shook his head and opened the car door. Vinny, on the other hand, seemed skeptical. Wooin's eyes held a hint of amusement.

"No one's going to touch you," Wooin approached me and gently held my neck down to my collarbone. "I've already taken responsibility for you. No one has the right to harm you; you belong to us now, whether you like it or not," he whispered huskily.

I met his gaze, and we locked eyes for a long moment. Why was someone like him helping me? Was it because of my biking skills? My breath quickened as I glanced down at his lips.

"Let's go. Stop teasing the girl, Wooin," Grim's voice broke the moment from the car.

"She's teasing me too, can't you see the look on her face?" Wooin replied playfully. Vinny shook his head and rode off on his bike. I parted my lips and lowered my gaze to my feet.

Vinny's discomfort had a strong impact on me, and I couldn't focus on what Wooin was saying. I knew he still held some resentment towards me. If he didn't want me to join their group, I wouldn't do it just for him. I didn't want to be part of their crew if Vinny wasn't comfortable with me being there.

"Don't worry, Demitra. Vinny will come around to liking you soon. Your beauty is irresistible," Wooin said, his tone playful and uncertain.

"I cannot join your crew, even if you say no one will hurt me. Vinny doesn't want me to be part of the Sabbath, and I don't want to upset him further,"

Wooin's expression suddenly changed, and Joker also looked at him. "And now he's making me furious. I will fucking kill him--"

"I'll go talk to him," Joker assured his friend. "I'll handle it."

"I don't believe it, you might just end up punching him," Grim said from inside the car.

"My decision is final," I said formally. "I will help you the best I can. You can ask me anything. I can also share my knowledge when it comes to racing," Wooin still looked frustrated.

"I still don't like this. We want you in our crew, can't you see that?" Wooin whispered. "If only I could mark you as ours. I want to protect you from those Hummingbird losers."

Wooin's words caught me off guard. I glanced at Joker to gauge his reaction, and both he and Grim seemed serious.

"This is nonsense. Why would a famous crew want me?"

"You might be surprised if I tell you," Wooin licked his lips, showing off his long and sharp tongue. "Let's just say I get turned on by watching videos of you racing. Damn, how can you be so good?"