#i need some of y'all to be googling some of these asks

[notherpuppet]

It's so cute that you're Radioapple is QPR!

I like this ship in both romantic and QPR way, so whatever you do with them is cool.

Also, is your Lucifer bi/pan? or maybe he's on aro spectrum?

Yeah! I think QPRs are really special and I don't see very many representations of them being developed in mainstream media, so it's really fun to seize an opportunity to write a QPR story with characters I'm unhealthily obsessed with LOL

I love seeing a bunch of different interpretations of fandom ships because I'm a big ass fangirl so yknow I love to eat the dynamics uppp!!

In My Deer Nanny AU (and most of the time in other fanart) I write and headcanon Lucifer as pansexual, panromantic, and poly.

[r0semultiverse]

Before we start not reading, not researching, & jumping to conclusions via reblogs & things with the speed per capital society we live in, where is it sourced specifically (that isn't a tumblr post or a tiktok without citations) that the Trevor Project is in support of KOSA?

We have sources for GLAAD, GLSEN, and PFLAG (August 24, 2023), but I wanna know where the rest of this info comes from. Pretty convenient to say that an organization known for helping trans youth is in support of a shitty bill amidst all the ongoing chaos, especially when we live in an age of misinformation.

If anyone could link it to me, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Update: Okay so yeah this is kinda suspect, The Trevor Project in July 25, 2022 is all for KOSA here.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[bratzforchris]

Ways to Say "I Love You", C. Sturniolo

Summary: Five times you knew Chris better than himself, and the one time you didn't<3

Pairing: Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking/hangover (y'all i know he's techinally not of legal drinking age in the USA. this is fiction)

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I genuinely need this man in my life so bad actually. Anyways, enjoy some tooth rotting fluff. XOXO<3

1

“Bruh,” Chris groaned, leaning his head back against the couch cushions. “I feel like shit and I don’t even know why.”

You looked up from your phone, eyeing your boyfriend up and down. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he whined, rolling off the couch dramatically. “My head hurts and I’m tired.”

You sat up from the gray couch, standing over Chris, who was sprawled on the floor, pouting and whining. You definitely felt bad for him, but at the same time, you knew Chris tended to over dramatize the smallest, most random things. “Do you have a fever?” 

Chris shook his head, rolling from his back to his stomach, but not getting off the floor. “I don’t feel sick, but I just feel like horse shit and I don’t know why.”

You observed him for a moment, before an idea dawned on you. Having ADHD, Chris tended to forget to eat and drink, so hyperfixated on something or too many thoughts in his head blocking the reminders to fuel his body. He was medicated for it, which both helped and hurt. Sometimes, he would be able to focus enough to remember his meals, but other times, the meds would dissipate his hunger cues. “When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”

“Hmmm,” Chris’s blue eyes looked thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged. “Dunno. Which is weird because I’ve usually had like, six Pepsis by now, but we’re out and Matt didn’t go to the grocery store yesterday, so…I don’t know.”

You shook your head with a soft chuckle, helping your boyfriend up off the floor. “I think that might be the problem, sweetheart. Is there something you want to eat?”

“Do we have chicken nuggets?” Chris asked you, picking up one of the stim toys he had left on the floor last night as he followed you into the kitchen. “That reminds me, isn’t it weird that chickens can’t fly? Like…are they even real birds?” he asked you. 

“I dunno, hun. Google it.” You told him gently, pulling the bag of chicken nuggets out of the freezer.” 

“Do you think chickens are sad that they can’t fly? Like do they look at cardinals and go ‘Damn, why can he fly but not me’?” he hummed, flicking at the toy. 

Chris was wrapped up in his own little world as you made his lunch. He didn’t even get the chance to Google his chicken question before he was distracted by a Spotify notification, which led to him loudly singing a Lil Skies song, dancing around the kitchen. As much as you hated how difficult ADHD could be for him, Chris had one of the best personalities you had ever met; he was bubbly and outgoing, always the life of the party and always willing to cheer you up. You quickly plated his nuggets, along with some other random foods that you knew he would love, before sliding the plate across the island too. 

“See if that makes you feel better.” You explained with a soft smile. 

You watched as Chris downed the food, along with a Gatorade you had given him, only to see a smile dawn on his face. 

“I feel better now,” Chris mumbled shyly after a while. “Thank you. You’re the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. You literally always know me better than myself, it’s kinda weird.”

“Why is it weird?” You asked with a snort. 

“Cause it’s like you’re magical or something. Which it would be really cool if you were.”

You smiled, kissing Chris’s soft brown hair. “I love you too, hun.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

2

Tour life was difficult. No one would deny that. As much as the triplets were absolutely loving the Versus tour and all the antics they were getting to do, as well as meeting fans, they had to admit that it was exhausting. Not only were they running on an extremely tight schedule, it was wearing on Chris the most, simply because he was getting next to no alone time with you. It wasn’t that he simply wanted the alone time for sexual reasons, rather, you were the only person that could calm his mind, letting him just be. 

“Baby,” You hummed, softly stroking the brunette’s face. It was still dark out, just past six am, but you had a surprise for him, and you knew Chris would later complain about his sleeping in if he found the missed opportunity. “Wake up, honey.”

Chris wriggled beneath the blankets, sleepily blinking his blue eyes. He was freezing and it was dark out; way too early to be awake. “Too early.” he groaned in his morning voice, rolling over to face the wall with the blanket bunched around his shoulders. 

“I have a surprise for you.” You said, a bit more excitement in your voice as you shook him harder. 

The word ‘surprise’ immediately woke the boy up as he rolled to face you. You were already dressed in one of his hoodies and a pair of leggings, eager to get on with your plan. You were practically bouncing up and down like an excited little kid, hoping Chris would love what you had come up with as much as you did. 

“Why the fuck are you awake? It’s dark out,” he moaned. “Come cuddle me instead.”

You snorted at your boyfriend’s dramatics, quietly pulling back his blanket so as not to disturb Matt and Nick. “Get dressed, you big goof. We’re leaving in ten.”

As much as he wanted to argue and go back to sleep, Chris couldn’t deny that he wanted to understand what had caused the giddiness in your aura. He quickly pulled on his favorite hoodie and sweatpants, cramming his messy hair under a snapback as he followed you down the bus steps and out onto the quiet, dark sidewalk. He didn't know where the bus had stopped during the night. Philly maybe? But he didn’t get time to think about that as you simply nodded to one of the members of the triplets security and then took his hand, dragging him down the sidewalk. 

“Where are we going? I miss my blanket.” Chris pouted. 

“Me too,” You nodded, trying your hardest not to disclose the surprise. “But I do have something that’ll make you feel better.”

Chris didn’t know where you were going at this point, but he followed you anyway. He would’ve followed in any life, had someone asked him the question. You two continued to walk for a few more blocks until you stopped in front of a brightly lit diner, its neon signs illuminating the darkness of the street. 

“Pancakes?” Your boyfriend asked, perking up as the smell of bacon drifted from the restaurant. “Goddamn, I knew I made the right choice dating you.”

“I am pretty amazing,” You giggled, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Let’s eat.”

You stepped into the diner together, immediately being sat at a booth and having your order taken. You and Chris both ordered an immense amount of breakfast food, quite tired of the protein shakes and cereal that came with bus life. 

“How did you, um, find this place?” Chris asked bashfully, stirring his straw around his Pepsi. 

You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee. “I was just looking for things for us to do alone and it came up,” You hummed. “I love Matt and Nick, I really do, but I also like to have one-on-one time with you, and I could kind of tell you needed some, too.”

“How do you always manage to know exactly what I need when I need it?” he asked with a chuckle, brushing his hand over your knuckles. 

You smiled, a blush dotting your cheeks as your waitress came over with a tray full of all the food you had ordered. “I just do.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

3

“Baby,” Chris whined, sprawling out across your shared queen sized bed. “Don’t leave me. I don’t need food, nor do I want it.”

“But you do.” You said pointedly, looking him up and down as you slipped on your Uggs. 

“Nuh uh,” he fought back, smashing his face against a pillow. “You’re making me feel sick by not laying with me.”

“I’m not making you feel sick. Your choices are making you feel sick. No one told you to drink as much as you did.” You chastised gently, crossing the room to kiss his forehead. 

You and Chris, as well as his brothers, had gone out last night with a large group of friends, to include Johnnie and Jake, Tara, Larray, and Sam and Colby. Things had gotten a little…out of hand, leaving you with a very hungover Chris, who was making miserable noises as he clutched his stomach. 

“You’re not even laying with me,” Your boyfriend pouted. “My head and tummy hurt and I wanna be cuddled and you’re being mean.”

“You’re so grumpy when you’re hungover,” You snorted, kissing his forehead again. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

Chris whimpered again as you propped him up with several pillows, tucking him in and making sure he had water and a bucket nearby. You had opted to get him IHOP, figuring a good amount of carbs would ease the symptoms he was currently experiencing as a consequence of overindulging in alcohol. The time between you leaving the triplets house, picking up food, and returning home was less than forty five minutes total, but it felt like an eternity to your hungover boyfriend who simply wanted cuddles and for his headache and nausea to go away. 

You entered the bedroom, takeout bag in hand. “I’m back. Nothing to cure a hangover like a big, greasy breakfast,” You smiled, settling onto the bed and pulling out plastic containers of food. “Once you eat, you can take some ibuprofen for your headache.”

“I’m not hungry.” Chris whispered softly, feeling too unsettled to eat. 

“You know your tummy will feel better once you eat.” You cooed, stroking his stomach over the comforter. 

“Nuh uh.” he groaned, snuggling further into his pillow and blanket.  

“It will and you know it. You know you can’t drink that much, hun. I dunno what you expected to happen.” You explained softly, pushing some hair out of his face gently. 

As much as he wanted to continue to whine and be difficult, Chris had to admit you were right. A good breakfast and some sleep sounded really, really good right about now. He softly sat up, taking a sip of the Gatorade you had left on his bedside table last night. “Mkay…I’ll try to eat, I guess.”

You didn’t say much as you two began to eat your breakfast. You knew Chris probably had a raging hangover headache right about now, and you didn’t want to make it any worse. Once your boyfriend had had enough to eat and taken the pain relievers, he curled up into your side, placing your hand on his stomach. 

“...you were right,” he admitted quietly, always hating to be wrong. “Now I need belly rubs and sleep.” 

“So demanding,” You fake huffed, kissing his forehead. “Get some rest, hun. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

4

Chris Sturniolo was not the type to let anyone know he was upset. Sure, he would jokingly whine and complain about things when he felt like being irritating to his brothers, but he would never actually let anyone see when his feelings were hurt. You knew this about him, and after a little over a year together, you knew the signs that he was feeling this way as well.

The four of you were currently sitting in Matt’s car in a random parking lot, filming a car video. You opted to sit in the back and mostly listen with an amused look. After all, this was the triplets video, not yours. They hadn’t really planned a topic for today either, which ever bubbly Chris took to his advantage. 

“I need to pee,” he stated to no one in particular. “I got a new water bottle and so now I’ve been motivated to stay hydrated so I need to pee.”

“Why did you say water bottle like that?” Matt snorted. 

The boys continued back and forth with their bickering for a while, mostly making fun of the way Chris had said the word. You simply sat and laughed, enjoying all the weird conversations that came up, that is until Nick harshly interrupted Chris. 

“Do you ever shut up?” he asked. “Like genuinely, do you ever shut your mouth?”

“I do sometimes.” Chris protested. 

“Nuh uh,” Matt interjected. “You couldn’t go five minutes without talking. I bet on it. You’re one of those people on the list Nick was talking about. The one who could benefit from being quiet.”

“Fine. Time starts now.” Chris ‘locked’ his lips and pretended to throw away the key. 

You knew he was just going along with the video, but you could tell by the slump of your boyfriend’s shoulders and the way he had his forehead resting against the cool window that the comments had hurt him more than he let on. Nick and Matt continued to talk for a few minutes, before landing on a topic that immediately sparked Chris’s mind. He quickly decided to speak up, forgetting about their ‘challenge’. 

“You can’t do it,” Matt laughed, a triumphant look on his face. “Chris can’t stop yapping…wait, that should be the title of this video.”

Nick laughed and fist bumped his middle triplet, but you found the joke far from funny. Chris had slowly curled into himself throughout the duration of the video, speaking less and less. He was still appearing to be smiling and having a good time, but his overall demeanor had shifted, and you could tell his brothers’ teasing was getting to him. 

“We should get home. It’s getting late…” You mumbled softly once the car had quieted down. 

Chris turned around in his seat, giving you a thankful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Matt nodded at your statement, turning the key in the ignition and beginning the short drive back to your shared LA home. Everyone was quiet, which was a rare occurrence in this car. You would’ve thought that Matt and Nick would’ve noticed Chris’s unusual silence, but somehow they didn’t. Your boyfriend lingered to get out as his brothers clomped inside the house, laughing about a random joke. 

“You okay, hun?” You asked, climbing from the backseat to the driver’s seat, resting your hand on his arm. 

“‘M fine.” Chris mumbled, leaning his head  against the window. 

“You don’t act very fine.” You whispered gently, running your fingers through the soft, brown curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Do you think I talk too much?” Chris whispered quietly, turning towards you. 

Under the bright light of the garage, you could see unshed tears welling in his lash line, threatening to spill. That’s how you knew Chris was upset. He almost never cried, unless he was really and truly upset. 

“Honey,” You said sadly, running your thumb across his cheek. “Of course not, bubba. I love listening to you talk.”

“Well Matt and Nick sure don’t.” he huffed grumpily, but a sniffle made its way out.

“Yeah…I was going to talk to them about that, actually. They were kinda being dickheads to you tonight.” You whispered, always hating conflict between the triplets. 

“They were right,” Chris groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I can’t shut my fucking mouth and everyone thinks it’s annoying!”

“Sweetheart,” You cooed, pulling him into a hug across the console. “I don’t, and I say that with every promise in me. I love listening to you talk, Chris. Your voice is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard and I learn so much from you every day.”

“Really?” he sniffled, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Really, hun,” You smiled, softly brushing it away. “I love you.”

Chris smiled, giving you a soft peck on the lips. “You always just know, don’t you? You always know when I’m sick or tired or when something’s wrong. God, I love you.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

5

You had always loved music, ever since you were little. Something about how a simple arrangement of notes could make a person feel so many emotions captivated you. It was like a language that you didn't have to learn to understand. By the time you were eleven, you’d been playing guitar and ukulele, and that later expanded to piano and bass. Music was absolutely your therapy, and you took every opportunity you had to practice your craft. 

You were sitting on the floor of your and Chris’s shared bedroom, strumming softly on your acoustic guitar. For once, the house was quiet because the boys were out filming a video, so you took the time to practice one of the new songs you had been working on lately. Being a music major allowed you very little time for your separate projects, so you would take whatever chance you could get. 

The silence didn’t last long, though. Just as you were playing an Em chord, Chris burst into the room, flopping on the bed. “Hey mamas, how was your day?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but continued to strum your guitar. “It was wonderful…until I was so rudely interrupted.”

“You know you love me,” Chris teased, rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin in his hands. “Play me a song.”

“God, you are so demanding,” You chuckled. “What’s next? An autograph?”

“Mhm. On my boobs.” Your boyfriend smiled.

You shook your head with a laugh, throwing a guitar pick at him. “You’re insane.”

You didn’t waste any more in Chris’s antics, though. You fulfilled your boyfriend’s request, quietly beginning to play Falling like the Stars and singing along. Chris said nothing more, cherishing the sound of your voice. He loved hearing you sing and play guitar. It soothed him, allowing him to see the passionate parts of you that only came out in your music. He wished that he could do the things that you did, but he had just never taken the time to learn an instrument. 

You looked up at your boyfriend on the bed after you finished the song, smiling softly. You watched Chris for a moment, observing his body language and the way he was looking at you. “Do you…want to learn?” You asked him quietly, a blush dotting your cheeks.

“You’d teach me?” Chris’s cheeks and ears grew pink as he looked at you shyly. 

“I’d love to.” You nodded with a smile. 

Your boyfriend clambered off the bed, sitting down next to you on the rug. You softly began to explain the different parts of an acoustic guitar and how to hold it, before moving onto chords and strumming. Chris had always been a fast learner when he put effort in, and right now was no different. Within the hour, he was already playing slow, soft songs. The chords were still vibrating and it took him quite a while to change them, but it was a song nonetheless. 

“I’m not as good at it as you are.” he pouted after a moment, setting your guitar aside gently. 

“Well I have been playing for ten years, bub.” You chuckled gently, kissing his face. 

Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you back deeply. He loved you with all his heart, and you taking the time out of your day to share your passions with him only made him love you more. As the kiss grew heavier, Chris fell back onto the floor, still holding you as he giggled. 

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play guitar, you know that?” he asked, pecking your forehead. 

“I could tell.” You smiled. 

“You always can.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

+1

“It’s such a nice day out today.” You hummed, soaking in the sun as you laid on your towel. 

Chris fidgeted beside you anxiously, but made an acknowledgement towards you statement so as to ‘throw you off his scent’. He had been planning this surprise for months now and he was currently using every muscle in his body to keep his mouth shut so as not to spoil it.

You two were basking in the sun on the beach in Santa Barbara, towels laid out. You had noticed Chris had been unusually quiet all day, but didn’t really think much of it. The beach usually kept him in his own little world, too distracted by the roar of the ocean and the sand between his feet to notice anyone else. You both had always loved the beach, and moving to the LA area after living in Boston your whole life had been a welcomed change. You practically went to the beach every weekend, but today Chris had led you to a new spot he had found. It was rather secluded, but you loved it all the same. It made things more intimate between the two of you. 

“You’re quiet today,” You said after a while, rolling over and propping yourself up on your shoulder. You looked Chris over from head-to-toe, admiring the tiny features about him like the way his curls had grown more pronounced with the salt air and the birthmark on his back. “Beach getting you relaxed?”

“I, uh, yeah. You could say that,” Your boyfriend tried to smile sheepishly, looking you over. Your lavender bikini hugged you just right, making him even more nervous. If he fucked this up while you looked so gorgeous, he would never forgive himself. “Wanna take a walk?”

You smiled, sitting up quickly and beginning to gather your towel. “Sure!”

“No!” Chris said a bit too hastily. “I mean, you don’t need to bring your towel…I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just leave your stuff on the beach, Chris.” You giggled. 

“It’s not like anyone’s gonna steal it. Just–trust me, please?” he asked, giving you those blue puppy eyes you could never resist. 

“I guess so,” you fake huffed, taking his hand in your own. “C’mon, let’s walk before the sun sets on us, silly.”

Chris smiled, taking your hand in his own and starting the trek down the beach. The ocean was calling him as you two strolled westward towards the sunset, but that would have to wait. At least until he had finished his plan. The silence between you was comfortable like always, but this time it thrummed with passionate energy. Chris was pretty sure you had no idea what he was  planning, but then again, you knew him like the back of your hand.

“This beach is so quiet. It’s nice when it’s just us,” You smiled. “How did you find this place?”

“Oh, y’know, doing what I do best. Poking around.” Your boyfriend laughed nervously as you came to a beautiful expanse of rock along the beach. 

You immediately ran towards the beauty, smiling up at the wonder of nature. “This is gorgeous.”

Chris took the opportunity of you having your back turned to feel in the pocket of his swim trunks for the tiny box that he had been hiding from you for over a month now. He would admit that he had definitely had a bit of a struggle keeping the secret from you, but it was worth it to see you now, on this gorgeous beach, looking even more beautiful than the view around you. The brunette turned his head to where Nick was hiding out of sight, holding his camera. As much as he wanted the two of you to be alone for this, he wanted the pictures infinitely more. He couldn’t wait to tell his kids about what would be the best day of his life one day, that is, if you said yes. 

He took a deep breath, pulling the box out of his pocket and then tapping you on the shoulder. “I have a question for you, ma.”

By the time you had turned around, Chris was on one knew, holding a tiny, velvet box that held a gorgeous, heart-shaped, diamond ring. “Oh my god…” You whispered, hand flying to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

“You are my best friend, baby. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you that day in ninth grade algebra class. Finding out you felt the same way about me was probably the best day of my life. You always listen to every crazy, stupid, and dumb idea I have and I love you for it. You know me better than I know myself. I love loving you; you are my first, last, and only love. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“Oh my god, yes!” You squealed, throwing yourself into his arms as Chris slid the ring onto your finger.

Chris sniffled as he spun you around, hugging you tightly and kissing you. “This is why I’ve been acting weird today,” he chuckled and blushed. “I was worried you’d find out. You know literally everything.”

“Not everything,” You smiled, showing him the diamond. “You kept the secret so well. Who all knows?”

“Well,” Chris admitted shyly as Nick stepped out from his hiding spot. “Nick knows, obviously, because I needed his help capturing the moment. Matt knows too. Other than that, no one else.”

“You’re amazing, Chris,” You whispered, kissing him again. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was fifteen years old, you know that?”

“I love you so much, ma. Always have and always will.” 

As Nick continued to snap photos of the two of you in front of the sunset on the beach, you couldn’t help but to feel your heart swell. You hadn’t known what was going on with Chris this time, but for once, you didn’t even mind. 

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[timewillpasssoon]

hiii can you write a joost x female reader angst? they argue, he yells/says some mean stuff but it ends in fluff? 🫶

HOW COULD YOU?

pairing . Joost Klein x fem!reader

content . angst, the dutch in this is from google translate so if its bad lmk, mentions of yelling, insults, stress, alcohol, eurovision disqualification, fluff at the end

summary . when joost urges you to leave the house on a cold night, he starts to regret not opening up to you in the first place.

word count . 1.2k words , 6.5k characters

author's note . quick question, are y'all interested in nsfw? just wondering, if so send some ask.

You and Joost stood in the middle of the living room, tension crackling in the air, geting thicker and thicker as time passes by. His words cut through you like a knife, each one sharper than the last. For the past hour you've been trying to get Joost to eat and open up.. He would turn away and say he's not hungry. He'll say he's not hurting. He lies through his teeth, he was hungry and in pain, desperate need of help. So why doesn't he want it You? You tried to get him to open up to you, but you just couldn't. Everytime an attempt was made, he would slightly raise his voice.

Then finally, he yelled, his voice rising in frustration. Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to hold back your own anger. "I'm your girlfriend, liefde! I'm here when you need someone to lean on!" You wanted to scream it out, yet it came out as a whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. He scoffed, his anger still beneath the surface.

"Well I don't need you! I am perfectly fine, there is nothing we need to talk about!"

"Can you atleast eat!?"

"For crying out loud I'm not hungry! Just stop being such a bitch."

The argument escalated, each word a dagger aimed at your heart. Joost's voice echoed off the walls, the last word hanging on your brain.

"You just don't get it, do you?" You looked at him in the eyes, rage and empathy were the only two things you could feel. "You clearly are in pain because of the disqualification! Just talk to me- we've been dating for 2 years, for crying out loud! Yet you still can't tell me your problems? Wat een man ben jij." (What a man you are.)

"You can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not!" Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to find what words to say.

"I thought we could work through this together." You uttered out, your voice trembling. Joost shook his head. "I don't know if we can," he admitted. He looked down, slowly then turning to the front door. "You should go."

You shake your head, words can't come out your mouth. Your tongue is tied together and you don't know if you can untie it. "Joost- please."

"I said get out. Ik wil je niet zien." (I don't want to see you.)

Your heart was throbbing so fast it felt louder than him,.Joost is staring at the front door then turns to you, red puffy eyes with baby tears coming out from both eyes. His blonde hair was a mess. It was covering most of his eyes but you can still see the pain in them.

"Prima." (Fine.) You take big steps yet they feel like your still miles away from your destination. You go to open the front door, "I hope you come to your senses."

Those were the last words he heard from you. Before you walked out. It's been two hours since you left his house...

and frankly, he's scared. He kicked you out in the middle of the night. It was eight pm when he demanded you to leave and with each second goes by, its past ten.

He calls you, he leaves voicemails, texts messages.

Still nothing. Checked social media and there was still nada.

God he felt awful, the worst boyfriend in the world. All of this happened because he didn't want to cry in your arms. He really did want to let loose, reveal that everything is not okay.

Yet he couldn't.

He didn't want to burden you with his problems anymore. Joost felt like he had too much baggage no one wanted to hear. He thought that everyone wants his happy-go-lucky side. You jusy wanted his true self. The Joost that is willing to tell you his feelings.

He decided to call one of your friends that happened to live by the neighborhood.

"Hello?"

"Is reader with you?"

The other line was quite crispy, Joost can hear a tv in the background, sounded like laughter in the back, maybe a comedy.

"No, why? Is everything alright?"

Joost sighed, fidgeting with a stand of hair. "No, me and her got into a fight and I made her leave- I haven't heard from her!" He exclaimed.

"Woah, woah, deep breaths." The friend on the line said, "Don't you have her location? Check if she's near the area, I'll stay on the line while you do that."

Joost quickly checked his phone to see if you turned off your location. You didn't, you forgot to. "She's in the nearest bar!" The friend hummed. "Go to her, she only drinks when she's stressed the hell out."

"Thank you so much," Joost happened to be crying again, quickly grabbing his keys and jacket. "No problem, get get her." The friend hung up on him as he raced to your location, being around eight minutes away if he ran the whole way.

He bolted as fast as he could, petrified about your safety. Where if you're black out drunk or not.

Pacing to the bar, precious seconds going by, he finally made it. it was one of the least popular bars near so there wasn't any hassle to get in. As he walked inside, he saw a women with the same color hair as you. Your head down on the table with around two shot glasses, there was three more earlier, the bartender just took them.

He sped-walked towards you, careful and still just incase you were still mad at him. He tapped you on your shoulder, but you didn't raise your head up.

"Ik heb een vriendje." (I have a boyfriend.) Was all you said. "I know." Joost calmly answered, his accent triggered you to lift your head up.

"Joost?" He nodded as he sat down next to you, his hand reaching for yours. You didn't push away his hand, as much as you wanted to, you knew he was in pain.

"Why are you here?" You softly say. You'll like to say you ignored him but you couldn't. You were certainly mad at him, but he had his reasons of sheltering himself away. So you listened instead of scolding.

"Reader, I'm so sorry- I didn't want to bother you with my problems. I feel like I just have too much going on for you to care." You felt destroyed at the thought of Joost think you don't care for him. Joost was rubbing circles on your palms.

He continued, "Can we go home, I would rather we talk there."

You smile at the chance of him opening up. You immediately say yes, standing up to leave. All your drinks were already paid for.

As the quiet, yet comfortable, walk back home he held you tight. Clinging onto your left arm for dear life. He still felt guilty for leaving you.

All alone in the streets. You told him it wasn't a big deal, that you could protect yourself. Yet the feeling guilt was still there, on his tongue. The taste was horrid.

Joost unlocked the door, letting you step inside first before closing the door behind him. That's where you engulfed him in a huge hug. Tears coming back for the fourth time.

That night ended with a deep conversation, with cuddles on the couch along with some ice cream half way eaten.

"I appreciate you having the courage to tell me all this."

You muttered your sentence out, about to knock out cold, your body longed for sleep but you kept awake for a bit while.

"I should thank you."

He smiled, tugging you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath breezing though the right side of your neck.

The warmth of each other's bodies made you two warm. You still weren't ready to give up on him.

You'll never give up on him.

LETSGOO FINISHED THIS IN 3 HOURS!! part 2 of let me think... is in the works don't worry, i have two other requests on the way as well.

im okay with nsfw requests, even if its a bit spicy or all the way. check out my other account!!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡ what i think katsuki n’ shouto would listen to !♡𓏲 ࣪₊

a/n : so I had this ready..but Tumblr fuckin ate the og ask..so anon if ur still sticking around (this was sent to me before I want on my break :(() ily !! and I hope you enjoy ! and all of y'all too off ! 3K WE UP !!

katsuki ♡

for some reason, i cannot get the image of katsuki listening to nobody by skindred out of my head LMFAOOO

(maybe bc ive been listening to it non stop)

so anyways i think you can tell that i'm feeling very metal for him,, nu metal, heavy metal, groove metal he's all for it ! i don't see him being particularly picky about it.

i think he'd listen to deftones, slipknot, skindred and korn ! i think he also has other similar bands in his playlist but i see these as most of his mains !

katsuki's a renowned little shit, so he'll share his earbuds with you, have you thinking he's on some cute shit only for him to hide his phone screen from you to jumpscare with a hyper loud song so he can snicker about it like a mountain troll💀

so yeah he's extremely irritating. of course if ur into it yall jam out together !!

buuuut on the other hand he definitely is a rap/hip hop and r&b typa guy !

i can definitely see him listening to some mf doom, tupac and DEFINITELY kendrick lamar oh em gee

pls don't get me started on r&b,,,i know he'd love him some brent faiyaz..teehehehe <3

i feel like he'd really like frank ocean and tyler the creator ! i feel like he wouldn't be a hyper fan, but he has a lot of songs in his playlist !

don't ask me why yall,,,but tell me why i see him listening to fugees and erykah badu...dreamy sigh

so yeah he'll jumpscare the shit outta you with his loud music, but most of the time when he's not being a nuisance he'll happily share his earbud with you and put on some sappy soul song to subtly tell you he love you cus hes shy lolol

a lot of the songs he listens to he relates to so,, if he plays the intro of all mine by brent faiyaz.. KNOW ITS ABOUT YOUUU!!!

shouto♡

now shouto's a lil trickier for me..i feel like he likes to experiment w new music genres sometimes, but he has his lil favourites yaknow??

i like thinking he'd listen to steve lacy and frank ocean ! he has a few select songs that he likes the most ! he gives me infrunami n' mercury typa vibes

it feels the best for me to say he'd listen to indie rock/pop (sorry if these aren't the right terms yall it's googles fault if they aint😭)

i feel like he fucks w the smiths HEAVY. i also see him listening to the cure ! he also gives me smells like teen spirit by nirvana !

like i said i feel like he likes to experiment cus lemme be honest i feel he's messy😭 like his playlist is a clusterfuck

there is no sad playlist or casual playlist like everything is in one playlist LMFAOOO

but no yeah he doesn't care much, which is why i think if you put him on the good shit you might see some pink pantheress n some laufey in there LMFAOO

if you recommend a song to him it's probably in there before you can blink lololol

shouto also starts copying your playlist after a while lolol soon you'll start thinking you have your phone when you scroll thru his playlist but nah💀

i also see him listening to mitski..need i say more ?

this was such a cute ask and it was rlly fun to do !! if you guys have any questions like these PLEAASSEEE feel free to ask me !!! tysm for the ask anon n' m'sorry it took me so long to respond ! i'm gettin' to all your asks one at a time, so please be patient with me <3 !!!

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Stylist! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Back with part 2! I'm warning y'all now - it's going to suck until it doesn't. Please bear with me. Also, I have included the links to both the shirts being sold for Gaza and the direct donation link. Please check them out! And if you can't donate yourself, I donate $1 for every watermelon comment under this post! So please make sure to share at the very least.

~~~

Being scolded was the worst feeling in the world. Well, actually, sleeping with a famous client and then having him immediately chase your coworker was the worst feeling in the world. But boy was this meeting with Katerina a close second.

“There needs to be a case study on this kid.” She muttered under hear breath as she moved sticky notes around the December calendar. She darted her eyes around her current configuration, before turning sour and looking up at you. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened a shade since you had seen her the previous week, and a twinge of guilt played against your sternum for contributing to her fatigue.

“Let’s go over some basic rules, my dear. First and foremost, you cannot block your client’s number.”

“But I-“ You began to protest, but your boss lifted one finger, silencing you instantly.

“I do not care. I do not care if he is a dick. I do not care if he is going to make my stylists kill each other. Honestly, that might be a blessing.  I do not care if he is the father to a litter of bastard children running barefoot around your home. You work for SDF. You work for Pedro Gonzalez. He will have access to your phone, your email, your address, hell your underwear size if he asks. Understood?”

You bit back the urge to protest, just nodding silently. She breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Second, you will not share his information with the other girls in the office. That includes his photoshoot timing, the PR being sent to him– anything. I’m tired of having to file reports to Milan about my girls fighting.”

The command was followed by another nod, this one more genuine. You had no intention of getting within 100 meters of either Tania or Sylvia, who were still not speaking but had also telepathically decided that you were a common enemy. You had been stepped on a suspicious number of times while collecting their pins from the floor, and you always caught them whispering to the other girls in the office about “la naranja podrida”. Didn’t take a detective to put those pieces together.

You were still in a state of agitation regarding the whole ordeal. In your fit of anger, you had done the mental calculations of how long it took Pedri to text another girl. He had left just as the sun was rising, so about 5:30 am. Google maps said you lived 25 minutes from the stadium, but he would have gone home first, because that’s where the damned boots and more damned note would have been. That brings us to 6 am to account for wherever the gremlin lives. By all your most optimistic estimates, he had waited at most a hour between leaving your bed and texting your coworker.

“Hey Silvia” was the text heard around the world. After the report (and a few hair samples) was filed away, a company-wide letter from HQ was sent out reminding employees of professional boundaries with clients. The giddiness and satisfaction that had come from a harmless prank had dissolved, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. Day damn one. You lasted 4 hours before you crumpled like a convenience store receipt over a boy at work. Ignoring every caution sign, you dove head first into a pool of prospective romance - and promptly hit the concrete.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell anyone. Bryce had responded to your gushing sonnets in the worst possible manner: with logic. You had brushed aside every one of her very appropriate questions, looking through your rose-tinted lenses at your life. You had gone as far as to tell her she was being a bad friend for trying to find any possible negative in this situation, causing her to pull back.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

The words of her static-garbled voice memo never left your head. There you were, only a few hours later, stomach turned and heart shredded, completely and utterly hurt. And you weren’t ready to face the sting of “I told you so” that was waiting for you, so you just… never said anything else. When she asked about Pedri, you responded formally with his upcoming campaign schedule. Lucky for you that she was too busy with her own life to keep pestering.

The upside to the current tragedy in your life was that you were working in fashion. It was hard to cry when you spent hours upon hours looking at some of the most beautiful clothes in the world, getting full creative freedom to bring your visions to life. Not impossible, because there were definitely a couple of wet spots on the Margiela from yesterday, but harder. Barca Femini had been in and out of the office for fittings, and it was a relief to be able to work with something other than khaki trousers and blazers. There were seemingly hundreds of hangers carrying vintage sports pieces, colorful jackets, and silky skirts. It sparked little moments of happiness, knowing that you were so good at playing dress-up that now you were getting paid for it.

It had been a week since your unfortunate altercation, and though the evening (and unfortunate following morning) had never left you, it had seeped from the front of your mind to the base of your skull, a dull throb that could be ignored during the course of the day. That was, of course, until you received an email from Adidas.

~

"Okay, Pedri, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this means you're blocked."

There was a snigger that floated through the lunch room that, had he been able to pinpoint the source, Pedri would have promptly quieted with a slap to the head. But it whizzed around like a gnat between some of the younger players.

"How could I be blocked, Fermin?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow from Fermin, who was mentally cursing his college education.

"Maybe it has something to do with you sleeping with her and then disappearing?" Gavi offered up that brilliant hypothesis between bites of grilled chicken.

"No, it couldn't be. She's American - they don't take sex so seriously. Besides, we just met! What was I supposed to do? Propose?"

Pedri resisted the urge to shrink back from the judgmental stares he was receiving. He was used to being questioned by Gavi, who believed in the "stare at her intensely until she falls for me and confesses" method of romance. But now that he had roped in Fermin (the most tech-savvy of the squad), he couldn't handle the intensity of the silent disapproval.

In all honesty, Pedri was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that had plagued the entire day. The previous night had been incredible. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when La Naranja stepped through her front door, but she surely exceeded expectations. Pedri believed he was happy in his normal routine: DM an Instagram model, engage in the little cat-and-mouse game where she pretended she wouldn't bend to his every will, and go back to her place for a decently fun time. But there was something about the way you walked, so coy and bashfully, looking up at him through delicate lashes with wide eyes, that warmed the most primal part of his being. His heart quickened at the sudden desire to chase, to capture, to consume. He wanted to protect this pretty little thing from the sharp eyes and sharper teeth of his friends. He was ready to savor everything you offered.

Over the course of the evening, the feeling gnawing at the inside of his chest became harder to ignore. The soft grip you maintained on his bicep to keep him close, the warmth of your fingertips searing his skin. He wanted to bark at Ferran to never look your way again. To sink his teeth into your neck, have you cry out his name so every man would know to never come near you again. Your hand, so delicate and soft in his own, maintained a firm grip as he dragged you out of the club, and a firmer grip on his hair once he was finally able to kiss you senseless. He felt like a wild animal unleashed in bed with, unable to slow or take pause. You were so hypnotizingly innocent, and he was going to destroy that.

The warmth in his chest remained till the following morning. As he kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of arrangement the two of you could have. He was more than eager to feel the caress of your soft lips again. Maybe you would be open to picking up his late night calls, spending long, tedious days together talking and fucking and laughing at nothing in particular. He thought about the flush in your cheeks that would arise whenever he came into work, dropping subtle hints about your activities in the days before. He could really make you a permanent part of his rotation with little difficulty, facilitated further by the fact that you had been assigned as his personal stylist. Filthy as it may sound, he contemplated not showering upon his return home. He would have to later in the day following practice, but until he could secure a second audience with you in a bedroom, he wanted to savor the scent a little longer.

His front doorstep was littered with packages once again, about half from Adidas and the other from Springfield. He was not a designer by any means, but he appreciated that he was at least sent the collections that were meant to be his. Fer was sipping on a coffee when Pedri walked in, and expertly avoided ay questions of where he had been the previous night. He was a concerned older brother, but he was also a guest. He instead asked to see the piles of PR that his younger brother had hauled through the door.

"I don't understand why they bother sending you all this stuff. Why wouldn't they just send it to the styling team."

"Because I actually have to play in the boots, hermano." Pedri said, lifting the lid off his newest pair. He was excited for another Adidas campaign, or any campaign really that would bring him closer to you once again. Oh how he wished he could have captured the way you looked in that dress forever, immortalized it in an oil painting and hung it on his wall (right beside the ripped remains of the dress, which he so desperately wanted to destroy). His daydream had been broken by a crisp white envelope contrasted against the bright orange of the boots. There was a feminine wave of scent in the air, and the heart pumping in his ears drowned out the sounds of his brother’s whistles and taunts. Had you done this? Had you been planning ahead to send him a note had he neglected to ask you out while at the office?

He tensed his forearms to disguise a slight tremble, ripping open the envelope and scanning the page only to find-

“Ay dios mío. Silvia.” He allowed his head to thud against the counter, Fer’s tittering laugh clear as a bell now.

“Is she the scary one or the weird one?” His brother asked, prying the crumpled letter from Pedri’s dejected form.

“Both are fitting adjectives. She’s the shorter one with the silver hair. She kind of looks like our Tia Marisol?”

Another tittering of laugher, and this time Pedri joined in with a cracked smile of his own.

“She wants to tell you how much she admires you, how much you make her … quiver? Ew.” Fer squinted at the note further.

“Listen to this line. Ehem: ‘I am ready to serve you, worship you, give you my body and soul because I love you.”

Pedri groaned so loudly he was sure the neighbors heard. Honestly, what were these girls thinking?? That he would start blushing and giggling at the mention that they would sleep with him? That was the least most girls would do. It turned his stomach, constantly fearing that he would be trapped with a child.

“Let me text this girl. I have to go in next week and I don’t want her bent over a table spread and waiting when I arrive.”

He typed in the number on the note, drafting a long text before deleting everything but the “Hey Silvia” at the top.

“It’s too forceful to say ‘hey I don’t want to fuck you’ right off the bat, no?”

He hit send, reluctantly heading off to shower away his escapades before he went into training, waiting for a reply before he asked not to receive any more erotic letters from his stylists. Oh how he wished she hadn’t.

~

“So run us through it one more time.” Gavi said, Ferran deciding to stifle his groan. The last thing he needed was to enrage Gavi further, as he suspected it would result in him finally getting the punch that was coming to him. Ansu and Fermin were nodding along vigorously, eager to hear all about Pedri’s first experience having feelings.

“We went out, we fucked-“

“Pedri!”

He rolled his eyes at the indignation from the boys. Kids these days.

“Okay. We went out, we had a magical lovemaking experience, and then I had to come to training. I texted her about her being my stylist to ya know break the ice. And I found myself in deep shit and promptly blocked on like everything.”

“I think your first mistake,” said Fermin, “was not texting her about last night. Why would you start with her working for you?"

Pedri dragged his hand down his face in frustration.

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning linda, great pussy last night?"

Gavi stood promptly with his hands up, leaving the room.

"I don't want to hear about another girl's vagina."

"Yes," Ferran muttered, "God forbid he cheat on his crush by listening to a story."

"Whatever happened to 'Hey, I had fun last night'? Is that not a normal thing to say?" Ansu asked, as shaken as Gavi but remaining planted by his desire to be in the loop.

"I think my agent is texting SDF to get her to unblock me. Not super easy to talk to my stylist if I have to do so through messenger pigeon. Where did Gavi go?"

Pedri followed his friend out of the locker room, watching as Gavi stared dejectedly at the Doctora’s office.

“Are you done moping?” Pedri asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“No. She might lose her job and we play her stupid boyfriend’s team tomorrow. I just want to keep her safe from that asshole.”

For a minute, something sparked in Pedri’s chest. Was that jealousy? He had never before felt that there was something missing in his life, content with being surrounded by friends and family and teammates. But there was something about watching Gavi pine, listening to the way he spoke of this girl, and it caused him an ache. He was in awe of this foreign spectacle: loving someone so deeply, so intensely, that it led to begging for crumbs of their time and attention. He almost wished to be in the Doctora's position, always having someone waiting around the corner for him.

"I have a styling meeting today. Do you want to come and keep me company?"

~

"Naranja, the bastard is here."

You didn't even lift your head when Maria informed you of the arrival of your client. You had worn all black to mourn the death of your self esteem, prepared to ass-kiss as much as needed to preserve your job. Unfortunately, it was difficult to push down the burning rage in the pit of your stomach when you had to kiss the ass of the man who has hurt you so intensely.

Pedri strolled into the room clad in the ugliest jeans known to man, his doe-eyed teammate (Gavin?) trailing behind him. At least the littler one knew how to dress. He was in baggy jeans and an Amie Paris t-shirt, clean sneakers in the same shade of blue as his top. Pedri, on the other hand, was an abomination. His black hoodie was far too baggy on his frame, making him look somewhat inflated. It was made worse by the tight and ribbed denim hugging the (admittedly stunning) legs that ended suddenly in some chunky clompers.

"Good morning, Naranja."

God. Even the sound of his voice was like swallowing razor blades. You wished that you could hear the lilt in his speech without remembering the soft whispers against the column of your throat, guiding you to ecstasy at his command. The way that he encouraged you, coaxed the gentle sighs and high moans with just an ask.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl."

And who were you to deny? But now, looking at his soft eyes and confident stance, you wish you had resisted. Pretended you didn't speak Spanish that first godforsaken day in this office.

"Good morning Pedro."

A stifled laugh and wide eyes from the boy behind Pedri (God what was his name? Gustavo?). Pedri's shoulders had dropped significantly, his thick brows coming together in confusion.

"No one calls me Pedro. Not even my mother."

"Well, maybe it's a good time for you to learn what disappointment feels like. Especially since you're so comfortable giving it out to others. Do you have your boots?"

You could tell Pedri was lost for words, and it caused you a mild spark of satisfaction. You had spent the last week boiling silently, unable to unleash all the rage simmering in your chest. He nodded silently, pulling the box out of his bag.

"Great. Gabriel, there is a coffee shop on the second floor if you want to grab a drink while I'm fitting Pedro. I'm sure you've seen him naked plenty of times but-"

"No, no, I'll go. Would you like anything?"

After shaking your head, he exited the room, and you began frantically grabbing different sweat pants and shirts for Pedri to put on.

"His name is Gavi by the way." Pedri said to break the silence, and you turned so he could strip off his shirt.

"Come on, Naranja. Don't pretend you haven't see it already." He smiled somewhat earnestly, softer than he did at the other girls. You were a gentle thing, and he wanted to be gentle with you.

"How many other girls in this office have seen it as well, Pedro?" You asked with as much venom as you could muster, turning to face him and eyes locking as he unzipped his jeans.

"You think that sleeping with me is a company welcome gift, Naranja?"

"That's not my name."

"And Pedro isn't mine. But if you want to poke at me, I'll poke at you right back."

He was now in only his boxers and his socks, and it took everything within you not to glance downwards, a reminder of the sight from one week and one night ago. He took a defiant step forward, the heat radiating off his body.

"You know, Pedro," You began, steadying your voice. "Texting my coworker mere minutes after leaving my bed is a sin on it's own."

"Wait, what? Hold on-"

"But in those mere hours of bliss, I googled you. Looked at your name on Twitter. Saw who you were. And you're just another slimy athlete that uses girls and throws them away."

Your face broke when you heard him laugh loudly at the revelation. It made you angry, expecting him to feel ashamed of his behavior.

"I despise miscommunication, Naranja. So don't go jumping to conclusions and acting foolish. Your coworker sent me a letter essentially begging to fuck me, but I suspect you knew that already. Hell, you might have even been the one to switch the names around."

Your cheeks grew warmer, and a part of your brain registered that Gavi was now lingering in the doorway.

"But beyond that, linda, is that I was texting her to say I wasn't interested." He began dressing, joggers defining his legs in a way acid-washed denim never could. "But I don't like being judged based on rumors on Twitter. I want to be your friend-"

"Again with that word!" The outrage was finally seeping from you, and now that the lid had come off there was no containing it.

"How am I meant to be your friend, Pedro? You hit on me, you sleep with me, and then you moved on to the next girl. How am I supposed to be your friend after everything you've put me through?"

"What did you expect of me exactly?" He shoved his shirt over his head, a sweet bit of relief in a tense situation. "I like you, Naranja. More than a lot of other girls I've met. And I want to keep seeing you," he let his eyes burn a path down your body, "as a little more than a friend. If that's something you're into."

You took a step back, hand over your chest in shock. Did this man just ask you to be a friend with benefits, mere minutes after you asserted your disgust for his very being.

"You must think so highly of yourself." You couldn't raise your voice out of fear of it cracking. Just how much had you deluded yourself into thinking you found something special?

"I don't actually," there was a tone of laughter in his voice, "quite the opposite actually." There was suddenly not enough air between you. You simultaneously wished someone would interrupt you and that the moment would last forever.

"You're a sweet girl, Naranja. Too sweet for someone like me. I know who I am and what I want, and a girlfriend is not on that list currently."

"So what? I'm good enough for you to fuck and not to date?" You asked, the question heavy between the two of you. He remained silent, lips unmoving, the wheels turning behind deep chocolate eyes.

"I like you enough not to want to hurt you, Naranja. So, what do you say? Friends?"

"Go fuck yourself, Pedro."

~

The high pitched noise of the camera going off repeatedly was starting to get to your head. You leaned against the wall, rubbing at your temples to try and stave off the impending migraine. You opened your eyes briefly to see Gavi also leaning against the wall, gnawing on his lip and staring at his phone. Propelled by boredom, you shifted slowly along the wall to peak at what he was doing, desperate for any form of entertainment.

Thank God for the lack of Gavi's vertical blessing. A quick peek revealed that he wasn't actually typing any words, only rereading text from a contact that was saved as...

"Holy shit are you fucking your doctor?" You asked, probably a little louder than appropriate.

His eyes went wide as frying pans and he began to go visibly red. He started babbling out denials, explaining that the two of them were just friends.

"I mean she has a boyfriend and even if she didn't she would never go for me because she's so much older than me and cooler than me and she's way out of my league but all I want to do is keep her safe and make her happy and-"

His brain finally caught up to the words he was letting loose, and he abruptly suspended his word vomit.

"Does she know that you like her?" You asked, back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Gavi.

"God, I hope not. I don't want to do anything to make her life harder than it already is."

"Maybe telling her how you feel will make it easier. Maybe she feels the same."

"Yeah," he sighed deeply, looking wistfully at his phone again, "That's what Pedri keeps telling me."

The disgust was evident on your features. "I wouldn't really take Pedri's relationship advice."

"Now now, turning my best friend against me because you want me is a little extreme, Naranja." The voice behind you was too much to bear.

"Someone needs to give your best friend advice on how to not transform into a heartless user."

"Ironic. I remember one of us chanting 'use me, use me, use me' just last week." The response died in your mouth as Pedri's publicist approached. Where did this guy get off? Even if you believed his bullshit excuse about not wanting to fuck Silvia, the teen drama explanation as to why he doesn't "do" relationships compensated plenty.

"Alright you crazy kids! Ready to go shopping?" You spun around so quickly that you almost smacked Gavi with your hair.

"I beg your pardon? I am a stylist, not a personal shopper. I get pieces sent to me."

That was the truth. You weren't in charge or brand relations, and the purchasing department was an impenetrable fortress. Each week, a soulless intern wheeled a rack into the room, and you worked with what you were given. You had several ideas for how you could modernize some of these stuffy athletes, but that wasn't your place. Not yet anyways.

"Yes, of course. But we are redoing Pedri's wardrobe entirely. We have received communication from the team that his tunnel outfits are - what was the official wording? Oh yes, 'a detriment to the team's public image and an offense to the eyes of culers globally'. Springfield have also asked us to film some content during the journey."

"I don't think this is really part of Naranja's job description."

Of course Pedri was the one undermining you. Of course it was his voice speaking out only to call you incapable. You forced on your biggest smile, turning to face the agent directly.

"Oh, there's no issue at all. It would be an honor to makeover Spain's worst looking footballer."

~~~

Okay end of part 2!! I have decided that I want to post more frequent, smaller parts for this story rather than giant updates every three months. Please let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box, and potentially where you want this dynamic to go! Thanks cutes xoxo gavisuntiedboot <3

(also if you would like to be on the taglist for this story, pls lmk!!)

Taglist:

@girlidekanymore

[decolonize-the-everything]

(to preface this, i am white. figured i should make that known off the bat) i wanted to come bounce an idea off of you that i've been rolling around in my head for a bit. i have this pet theory that, for the population ill call here "white progressive queers who know very little about poc and racism", a large underpinning of this group's interaction with poc is a Fear of Fucking Up and more generally, moral purity thought. they (maybe even "we"- im still hopefully learning myself) get so paralyzed by this idea and line of thinking that goes something like this: "1) since i know nothing about poc & racism, then 2) clearly in discussions about these topics, i will fuck up and say something wrong or perhaps even Bigoted, which if i did 3) makes me an Irreparable Ontologically Evil Racist, hence 4) i should just be quiet and never ask questions/speak on these topics" which then results in said White Progressive Queer and those around them never learning. i wanted to know what you think abt this and tell me if im on the mark or not

also thank u for the work u do on this blog, ive found so many helpful resources through you

You're right. In my experience that's exactly how it is.

I want to add tho: yes they're uncomfortable that they might fuck up and be considered racists sure, but a huge part of that stems from the massive inability to place the discomfort where it belongs. Which is with their own guilt.

Instead they blame the conversations for making them uncomfortable.

And let's take some worthy notes here: this is not how white people feel all the time. Because white people are not uncomfortable making these fuck ups in front of other white people.

So it's not that the conversation is uncomfortable. They are made uncomfortable. And they are made uncomfortable because even when discussing anti-racism they step into the role of oppressor (the little fuck ups or accidentally bigoted comments) so naturally and God forbid other (not white) people can See how easy it is.

My advice for white people that are like this (that nobody asked for) is

Your fuckups do not define you but how you react to them does

Listen, respect, learn

That's it. That's the whole list. Say something bad? Apologize, but don't over-explain yourself. Ask how to fix it. Google how you fucked up so you understand why it wasn't okay. Google again to get idea of how your fuck up hurts people. Google some more to make sure you don't do it again. Go to some safe space and ask some clarifying questions. Listen, respect, learn.

Maybe the people you fucked up with don't forgive you and that's okay, they don't have to. But YOU won't ever make anyone feel bad or less than in the same way ever again and that's what matters.

Having one less person making racist comments matters even if it's a struggle for that person to get to that point.

I need y'all to understand that none of you are gonna just wake up being suddenly perfect anti-racist allies. And we will literally never ever have allies like that if y'all refuse to even sit with your own discomfort.

•°•°•

This weird morality issue white people have over looking racist is also just such a non-problem. Like if y'all want a PoC perspective: white people are already being racist ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ ....we Already see y'all as racists. And also I'm gonna experience racism anyway so I'd rather it be because someone was just being ignorant on the path to anti-racism.

Y'all are so worried about how shit Looks that you can't be bothered how really things are? Like you're so afraid of looking racist you'd allow yourselves to continue being actually ignorant and casually racist. And to avoid what? Being uncomfortable for a minute? Being called-out? A mean comment?

We are trying to stop hate crimes and genocide. Like that's what we are dealing with okay. Accountability for your actions is an acquired taste but I think y'all can handle some discomfort considering.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you. 

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch. 

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced. 

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team. 

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet. 

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?” 

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back. 

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.” 

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.” 

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say. 

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.” 

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.” 

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit. 

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.” 

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.” 

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you. 

“I–” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.” 

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.” 

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed. 

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about. 

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe. 

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.” 

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi. 

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek. 

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time. 

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

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes” 

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.” 

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.” 

“What do you know about Othello?” 

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.” 

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.” 

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted. 

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.” 

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.” 

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid. 

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it. 

Part 2

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part ix

✧.* while the fans question your friendship with Carlos, you and lando have never been better

✧.* they are my babies your honor 🥺 google translated spanish. this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by albon_pets, cecilemoulin and 189,673 others

username oh..you're coming home with me 😻

view all 378 comments

y/nluv how many cats did you see so far?

y/nusername at least one!

y/nluv that's so many!

Hannahh this is indeed heaven 😭

norry4 get dash, leo and lola a new sibling!!!

carlossainz55 saca los gatos de tu maleta (get the cats out of your suitcase)

y/nusername no puedes detenerme 😉 (you can't stop me)

carlossainz55 oh, puedo 😉 (oh, i can)

sharl16 just some shameless flirting in Spanish 💀

landorfour lando reading this 😐😐

yourfriend1 te convertirás en la loca de los gatos (you will become the crazy cat lady)

yourfriend2 ¿Cuantos te vas a llevar a casa? (how many are you going to take home with you?)

norrizz comments being hijacked by the spaniards 😭

cecilemoulin you're going to need a bigger house if you're going to adopt a bunch of cats.

landonorris we don't need another cat..

landoscar WE?! y'all live together already?

bott_ass c'mon dad, what's one more kid?

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y/nusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 203,102 others

y/nusername wedding season' 💍

view all 444 comments

hamilt44n 100% sure the garland in the last picture was y/n her idea 😂

yourfriend1 same dick forever season

lan4lan so is Carlos going to be your date to this wedding?

julieeeexo I've been a wedding where I got put with a date I'd never met before, nothing special going on if Carlos does end up as her date..

lan4lan Carlos and y/n actually dated though, it's weird

julieeeexo and they've been exes for a while without any of us knowing I think they're good.

carlossainz55 don't cause any trouble

yourfriend2 sabes que ella es la mayor alborotadora 🤪 (you know she's the biggest troublemaker)

y/nusername Por supuesto que sí, ha vivido con ello durante años 😉 (of course he does, he has lived with it for years)

yourfriend2 ¡Eras mucho peor entonces, pero todos lo sabemos y lo amamos! (you were much worse back then but we all know and love it!)

carlandooo yall worried about this wedding and Carlos and y/n being each other's date meanwhile I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to survive the day I'm going to hear y/n speak spanish 🥵

landonorris it's hot for sure

carlandooo STOP ITT 😭

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landonorris

liked by y/nusername, maxfewtrell and 627,672 others

landonorris let's gooo

view all 1,872 comments

norry4 jesus...

mrsnorris my day's been blessed for sure 🥵

y/nusername y'all seeing this? 👀

norrizz we definitely see this bestie 😭

maxmaxmax afraid you have to share your man with all of us :((

sharl16 I'm not a lando girl I'm not a lando girl I'm not a lando girl I'm not a lando girl I'm not–

landofooooour 😍😍😍

y/nusername now the question is: where was my invite, where was my front row seat to all of this?

y/nlandoo girlie, you and I both know you wouldn't let that guy continue working out if you were there

y/nusername you right..

lan4lan everyone: still asleep and hungover after last night's party. Lando:

y/nusername jesus christ

landonorris stop it, you're making me blush

norrizz 😭 😭

norrislando lmfao y/n acting like she doesn't see this man half naked everyday 😭

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landonorris posted to their story

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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13   @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife

[leidensygdom]

AI bros from hell

Hello! Do you have a bit of your time for a story on AI bros and clients from hell? I bring a really fun one!

I met this guy at a con I was tabling at over a year ago, before AI was a thing. He said he enjoyed my art, and inquired me about whether I did book illustrations. I said yes- He was specifically interested in my bigger pieces, the fully rendered and detailed ones. He agreed to send me later a DM to discuss specifics.

For two weeks, he kept DMing me on details about his book, what he wanted, etc. He wanted full illustrations for inside the book as well as a cover, all of them fully colored, painted and rendered. He also wanted illustrations in this style to post on social media to promote the book. I had warned him that something like that would be costly, but he insisted that he needed this to be the best of the best.

Now, I was getting bad vibes from the guy. I shit y'all not, his instagram handle was "The next tolkien". I wasn't however gonna refuse a job opportunity. Now, he finally asked for prices: He had reassured me he was willing to pay fairly for this. Since he's a starting author, I gave him my non-commercial quotes, which are much, much, much lower than the standard for book illustrations. I mean "if you search for how much this costs on google, the lower prices are x5 times more expensive than what I offered".

The guy, upon receiving that, just ghosted me. Immediately unfollowed, didn't reply me with a "sorry, I can't afford it" or "sorry, i was expecting to pay $10 for a full rendered full background several-characters-picture". Nothing.

The other day I decided to search what he was up to. He's now released... THREE books for this series. There's a single review in the first one. Not even written, just a stars one. Also, notably, he had a webpage put together promoting the book, and. Yeah.

All the art is AI crap.

Which makes sense. My guy was very on his high horse about how fantastic of a writer he is, but I guess art isn't really to be compensated fairly. When he saw the "art stealing machine you just pay a subscription for", I'm guessing he was very excited.

So, uh, here's some of the marvelous pictures he generated of the characters, which surely tell you about how great the book is. AI is theft, so I don't give a f*** about reposting it.

I have a lot of opinions about creators who write, draw or make music, who are more than happy to use AI for other stuff- Album covers made with AI, writers using AI crap for book illustrations, artists using AI-made music. It feels like you're sh*tting in any other artistic field and showing how little you respect anyone but yourself. Like, I'll be honest, I don't have interest reading a book from someone who considers that other forms of art aren't real or worth any money. It just tells me you're devoid of any interest for art or humanity.

As an ending note, his instagram description is "More closer to god than to human", which does add to the clownery.

[chaostroberry1]

Hey how are you? I was wondering if you could have some headcanons for Hermes, Poseidon, Apollo and Loki with a goddess of sadness. She is the tallest of all the goddesses there, measuring almost three meters, she always has a melancholic aura and a quite sensitive, solitary and serious personality but she is kind to the most intimate people in her circle. She adores humanity and used to have a human husband before he tragically died. She is one of the strongest goddesses, when she cries she makes her sadness infect others, making them cry too and feel her pain (it is based on blue diamond from Steven Universe but I don't know if you know her. You don't need to add any more her if she is not to your taste). I'm sorry if it was a bit long, in advance please and thank you!

Oooh the pretty lady?? Im a bit familiar with her. I did my research on Google, I hope I didn't get anything wrong 😭 I'm also not sure if this is an "× reader" or not, so I'm very sorry. You may chat me again if it isn't what you asked for♥

°•Apollo+Hermes+Loki+Poseidon W a goddess of sadness!reader•°

Loki

- Loki and you are literally polar opposites. You both are so different, yet you both ended up being close to each other.

- he's very curious as to why you're so gloomy and emotional. But you are the goddess of sadness, you live up to your title. Literally.

- whenever he pulls pranks or Snickers at jokes, he's always looking towards you and pointing a finger at whoever was unlucky enough to be his target— thinking you'd instantly feel better.

- no, you actually got gloomier.

- but I think he'd take a liking to you. Opposites attract pretty well if I do say so myself. Atleast he has someone (not really) willing to listen to him.

- and about your height, I bet he'd use his floating ability to float towards your face, so he could talk to you more , and os that you don't have to bend down a little to hear him. And yes, he will ignore the fact that you are uncomfortable or not.

- he just yaps and talks about anything basically. Even if you are very quiet. you talk sometimes, only when you really feel like it.

- seeing how you can make people cry just because YOU are crying... its probably super amusing to him. Even if he's also there shedding tears.

-i bet he'd try to make you cry near the unbreakable ones like Thor, Poseidon, Odin, and so on. Just for the fun of it. A little experiment to make sure you're really that strong.

Apollo

- this guy is the perfect ladies man. He knows how to entertain you, he knows how to stop your thoughts from going elsewhere (or maybe stopping you from thinking about something sad. Or else everyone will get affected with your sadness plague.)

- even with your tall height, he still knows how to take care of you. He will find ways. Like when you visit his place, he will make sure you have enough room in the pool of water. He'd also dismiss the nymphs who are staring at your tall figure.

- if y'all are in a relationship, then he's willing to make you atleast a little bit happy. Seeing you cry for the first time was so heartbreaking to see, until it started happening more often.

- well, he learned to embrace it. And now, whenever you cry, he'll just come up to you with his arms open. (Like the "where my hug at?" Typa pose.) and he'll approach you slowly like--

"darling, darling, no need to cry. Let's look to the bright side!"

-- before he makes a tiny lil ball of light in his hands w his photokinesis. If not, he himself would probably blind someone with his light, just to make his statement clear to you. Lmao 😭

- he actually really likes it when you have to bend down a little so you can hear him better. Gives him a better look at your neck, or your chest. And maybe cus he likes the position you're in. (Perv ass)

Hermes

- he's already used to this. But I'm sure he'd find joy in watching your power do its thing to those around you. watching people—especially the most cold blooded gods—cry because of you, is incredible.

- he'd give you praises on your power, and how delightful it was to have such a goddess existing in the realm of divine beings. He'd serve you food and tea, ones that are extra big because of your size and height. Like I can imagine this man carrying a huge ass cup just for you to sip some tea or smth.

- I know you both gossip. He'd be whispering all the stuff he has to know on that day's tea, and you just quietly listen and softly giving your feedback. Y'all would do it in front of the other gods too lmao 😭😭

- your aura combined with his, it's a peculiar combo. But its certainly calming, with his personality and yours, it leaves a weird feeling in the room whenever you two are close.

- you both are pretty chill together tho.

- if you guys were in a relationship, he'd be so understanding and supportive of you. When you enter a battle, he'd probably be behind holding light sticks or something with that small smile he always has.

Poseidon

- now him. He likes your presence. Cus it reminds him a bit of hades. Not the crying part, but more of the calm demeanor you have. You are very soft spoken and it doesn't annoy him.

- you and hades are his only exceptions. Your aura is comforting in a way that soothes his nerves. He's also seen and even felt the sadness you've carried on your shoulders all those years after you beloved died, as well as the burden of other things.

- so he can quite understand you. It must really be difficult dealing with such feelings he learned that after he felt the pain you buried deep into your body when you cried.

- you both are also a peculiar duo combo. I just know most of the gods there ship you both. Loki was the one making the scenerios and fanfics (he's such an ass)

- Poseidon acts like he doesn't care, or is irritated. But in all reality, he doesn't seem to mind. He likes you a lot.

- he's pretty quick to slice someone who makes you cry. He just uses the excuse that he doesn't want to shed tears and all because showing weakness is weak af. But in reality he actually just doesn't want anyone fuckin w you.

- like imagine him saying that showing such weak emotions as a god is pathetic, before seeing you and quickly saying "unless it's completely necessary".

[sueheesblog]

I just wanna share something my friend had said to me when we saw The Bear SZN 1 n 2 for the first. I remember she said "Oh, he's looking at her like he saw her before n he's shock to see her here (at The Beef)". This was SZN1 E1. I thought Carmy was just smitten by Sydney. You know, maybe he thought she was was pretty. I never thought about what my friend said.

Now, she finished SZN 3, and she decided to put a bunch of nonsense in my head like she did(or tried to do) with SZN 1 n 2. She's now saying "What if Carmy decided to check who got his blood orange dish and saw Syd" "what if Syd knows Carmy through magazines n Google. But, Carmy knows Syd because he actually saw her and remembered her from the restaurant in NYC " 😭😭😭 - This shit never crossed my mind. This is some outta pocket, otta box, and outta the ocean thinking 😂🤣😂🤣

I know my friend is crazy n extra. I wish she used social media 😭😭 But, her way of thinking made me feel stuff n thangs. She's trying to convince me that Carmy had a crush on Syd before they met in EP1 SZN 1 and that is why he never called her out on the "My dad use to eat here every Sunday" lie. She also thinks the reason y Syd calms Carmy's panic attack in Ep 9 SZN 2 was because he received the highest compliment from the woman who turns out to be the person who enjoyed his first meal (the follow his heart meal), who is now his new crush.

She used these things to back up her crazy theory.

1. Carmy was ready to give Syd what she wanted after 1 week of meeting her. "This is what you wanted" SZN 1:3

2. His sublet stares and smiles when he saw her or spoke to her.

3. The fact that he took it hard when she walked out on him n called him "a piece of shit".

4. Telling T that she dresses like Syd.

5. Gave Claire wrong number because he's over her. And things are going great with him and his new crush (Syd)

6. He's asking Syd "you happy" in SZN2:3. Because making her happy, makes him happy.

7. Then Claire used the Faks (who are now known has a family of haunting) to find Carmy

8. Carmy's past is now haunting him. My friend also said the haunting actually started when Claire enters Carmy's life, but season 3 is using the Faks to shed light on it. Therefore, she believes Carmy is having a hard time facing Claire, because he knew from the beginning he didn't like her, but decided to give her a chance to see if his crush for Syd would fade. The worst part is that Claires haunting comes with alot luggage (Carmys mom, his old boss, Mickey, and everything bad)So basically my friend thinks both Syd n Carmy have a crush on each other, but none of them know it, and they both refuse to be the first one to confess it. And they are now aware of the shit they will have to go through together if they decide to acknowledge that invisible string between them and still stick by each other.

Y'all my friend got me Fxcked all the way up after she finished season 3, and started telling me all them crazy stuff..... I need y'all to agree with me that she's crazyyyyyy. Maybe someone can use her crazy ideas and write a fanfic?? Please.

[take-everything-you-can]

What makes a man

A/N : This is the second piece into the angiverse or my dad Eddie series of blurbs. A series of Fathers Days throughout Eddies life. One Where his father wasn't so kind, another when he surprised Wayne, and one more where you surprise him. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

P.s Photo in header are all from google straight up not gonna lie to yall have no idea who edited the Eddie and Wayne photo but its phenomenal.

P.p.s update : the photo of Eddie and Wayne was created by user @fefemunson on Pinterest and insta 💕💕🖤

Dividers by @cafekitsune

18+ MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem reader

WC: 4K

TW: Angst ( Al - need I say more...) Fluff ( Wayne's gift, doting husband, baby girl Munson) Smut ( Breeding kink, F receiving, fingering, unprotected PIV, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, accidental edging, squirting) If y'all see anything I missed please let me know. Not really edited all that much.

Sweat rolled down the side of Eddie's face as he sat crouched behind a car in the packed lot of a junkyard, a few towns over from Hawkins. The sun had set but the heat waves, in the middle of June 1975,  had become almost stifling as he kept an eye on his surroundings. Al had promised that if Eddie just kept watch this one last time, while he took care of some business, then he could get him the guitar strings he had his eye on.

It had only been two seconds, two seconds Eddie let himself get distracted as he watched the fireflies light up the darkening sky in swirling patterns. Two seconds and Eddie had missed how a tall figure made its way over to the door in which he watched his father disappear behind. Two seconds and he was too late to let out his crow call to let Al know there was someone coming. 

“Run.” A gunshot and a flash of his father was all Eddie heard and saw before his limbs were weaving in and out of old abandoned things that people no longer needed. Things that people no longer wanted. Losing traction as the rain from the night before made the clay and mud beneath his feet slide. He had caught up to Al, Eddie had never been an athlete but when it came to running for his life, he had more practice then one should at his age.

“Stupid, How could you be so fucking Stupid?” Al was catching his breath as he slowed, pretty sure that the men he was stealing from had given up at least for now. “I mean I ask you to do one thing and you can't even do that right.” Eddie walks beside his father and he’s heard the spiel time and time again. “If you think I’m getting you those guitar strings after this, You can forget it.”  Eddie knew he was never getting those strings, and if he was being honest with himself he knew this was the only time he was going to get with his father. That's all he ever wanted , to feel like he was needed and if that meant he would have to sit through some words that hurt, then that's exactly what he would do. 

He thought to two days ago. Hawkins Elementary had fathers day arts and crafts sweep through the halls and through classrooms as the day approached within the upcoming weekend. He decided that he was going to draw what he knew best. Eddie had drawn a dragon, large and fierce , one only a brave man could face. Sword in hand and threatening he had drawn his father slaying the dragon that plagued the princess’s  nightmares around the realm. He was so excited to present it to his father but as he sat and heard the words his father was saying the longer the picture sat in his backpack until it littered the bottom of it at the end of the year. 

Eddie would never give the picture to Al, in fact he would grow to forget about it. 

It took only a few months as the fall leaves began to change colors and fall to the ground, Al would find himself behind bars. Life without parole for numerous crimes that would leave Eddie with nothing but his mother and His uncle. It would be a very very long time before He would even hear the sound of his voice again. 

June 1985 had become as hot as Eddie thought it possibly could within the trailer. Wayne was currently out shopping for two new units, one for the living room and one for Eddie. As the men of the house could no longer stand having their hair drip sweat in their eyes and slick down the back of their knees. So they counted couch change and broke open piggy banks for the luxury of air flow. 

Eddie had found himself trying to pry the window that had been painted shut open in his room. A small one across from where his bed sat, and it took all of his strength and an hour of his time, but he had finally been able to crack it. Sweet relief had started to settle around him as a breeze picked up and his curtains swayed in as he took a look around his room. Clothes scattered and books in a pile, a few cups on his desk and sheets of paper askew, Eddie decided to start cleaning his room.

 A half clean floor surprised Wayne as he looks in on Eddie as he arrives home with the new units. Almost not wanting to say anything at all to stop Eddie in his task, but he curses himself as the words leave his mouth. 

“Come help me unload this truck boy.”  Eddie slips on a pair or worn out sneaker and trudges through the inferno only to be met with a realization. It was colder outside then it was in the trailer and he stood on the shared porch in disbelief. 

“How is it cooler out here than inside?” 

“Not for long If i can help it, Now come one and give me a hand before I melt out here.” 

Eddie helps Wayne take both units into the house and he holds them up as Wayne takes his time to install them, making sure that he eases the process as much as he can for his uncle.

 Eddie Holds his breath as Wayne plugs in the unit in his bedroom and the second the small little green light pops on and revs the A/C Unit to life, That breath leaves his lungs in a huffed out laugh as he jumps up and down in joy. A laugh from Wayne as he pats Eddie's shoulder as he leaves the room. “Glad you like it. I’m hitting the hay so keep it down here okay?” Eddie nods his head towards his uncle as he lifts his shirt up over his head and just basks in the cool air hitting his skin for what feels like the first time ever. 

Eddie opens his closet to hang a few stray long sleeve shirts he had  found scattered across the floor. Giving each the smell test before grabbing hangers. Who needs a long sleeve tee in this heat anyway, he thinks to himself. He stops and bends to find an old shoebox that had fallen from the top shelf and somehow landed upside down. Small trinkets from his past had toppled out and onto the floor, a few movie stubs, from trips to the cinema across town. His first DND Handbook , a small pick-me-up Wayne had brought home from a thrift store for him one day after finding out he had the flu.

 Then a small folded up piece of paper caught his eye. A Knight in shining armor depicted as slaying a dragon, one with a tail that could take out entire cities and claws like daggers. A sword through its skull as he shields himself from the bloodshed,but the face of the knight confused him. He remembered drawing the picture for his father , his rounded features and brudish stance, but the more he looked in on the knight he realized the picture he had drawn was not rounded but more sharp. The knight was more gentle as if it hurt to even have to slay the dragon but for his princess he would do anything. He had drawn Wayne, not his father. 

The picture would continue to lay in the box , and Eddie would put the box back in its rightful place on a shelf in his closet , but Eddie would always know that Wayne would slay his dragon. In fact he realized Wayne had been slaying them for years all in the sake of his protection. This brought a smile to his face as he left his room and made himself some dinner, making Wayne a plate to leave in the fridge so he would have something to eat before having to go to work. Tomorrow he wouldn't wait for the phone call from his father that would never come, instead he would spend it with his dad, a man who took him in and loved him for all that he was. 

An Early Morning of June 1988, Eddie paced by the phone for what seemed like hours. He started off his day by sitting , but the nervous bile that would rise in his throat had him up and down. His mind was set on hearing disappointment but you reassured him he would hear nothing of the sort. Finding himself sitting, knee bouncing as if it had a live wire in it, you start to separate things off the stove into their own spots on the kitchen aisle. A breakfast fit for a king, sausage and eggs , bacon and pancakes. All that was missing was Coffee. 

The night before you and Eddie had gone to Waynes for dinner leaving a small gift that he wasn’t supposed to open until this morning. You were sure he would open it as soon as you left but the line had stayed silent and Eddie knew for a fact he would call if he did. Given the gift he was receiving you had hoped the phone would ring sooner rather than later simply for the fact that you wanted Eddie to have peace of mind. Each second that passed you saw in Eddie’s features that he was going to the dark and weathered places. 

You and Eddie had given Wayne a mug. A small pink mug that when Wayne opened it reminded him of a diner he had not far from his house when he lived in Tennessee as a child. As Wayne poured his coffee into the mug he noticed that when he went to take a sip his hand caressed within it perfectly, a new favorite he would have to keep by the sink. As his last few sips drained the cup he saw an inscription on the bottom of the inside.

‘Pa Pa needs Coffee first’ 

A shrill ring from the telephone made you and Eddie nearly jump out of your skin. He picked up the phone and held it to his ear but before the word “hello” could leave his mouth Wayne had already started.

“Are you serious? Don’t be playing no games with me boy, cause if i have a heart attack then i'm taking your scrawny ass with me! You better be telling the truth or so help me -” 

Eddie's sniffles match Waynes as he just nods his head as if the man on the other end of the line can see him.

“I’m telling the truth, we’re having a baby girl, Uncle Wayne.”  Eddie turns as he hears a small sob leave you . You had been watching the man in front of you tell the most important person in his life the news of having your first child. It broke you in the best way.

 Eddie motioned for you to come over to him as he couldn't pull the cord far enough to reach you. He wrapped both of his arms around your neck as he held the phone to his ear letting Wayne rattle on his congratulations while you let the tears fall and land on his shirt. Eddie hoped this would be one of those moments you never forget. One that even when you were sitting next to him old and gray , he hoped this would be a memory he could always reach out for.

 Eddie hung up the phone and still having you wrapped up in his arms led you backwards. He stopped next to the fridge and opened it opting for orange juice instead of coffee. He had told you about a week or so ago that anything you couldn't do, he wouldn't do, and It was becoming a challenge. Coffee and a cigarette had been his daily routine for as long as he could remember, but having you struggle was something he was not going to let you do alone. So this morning he poured you a glass of juice along with his own and you both sat and ate the breakfast of champions, a slight Happy Father's Day on the tip of your tongue. 

Summer on the cusp of beginning in June of 1991 had bees buzzing and roses blooming . A cranky tot had been an alarm clock for you and Eddie for the past three weeks. Not only had your daughter reached the terrible twos but the heat was something she didn't like in the slightest. A stressful few months of Eddie working non stop and you finishing rotation on night shift had left you no time alone together. That would all end tonight. 

Wayne had agreed to take Angie for the weekend while you and Eddie had finally convinced your jobs to give you the time off. A rushed drive to Waynes gave you that pit feeling in your stomach and the tears that stained Angies face at your absence gave you tears to shed of your own. Mom guilt was always something you would struggle with. How could you not? Eddie squeezed your knee as he drove, peaking at you every so often to sooth the pit, he felt it too, but you deserve this. Eddie Deserved this. 

An early check-in to the hotel you had booked gave you enough time to get dressed and listen to Eddie complain about the restaurant you were taking him to having a dress code. You packed him a black blazer and a maroon button up ,but the man refused to wear slacks. Absolutely threw a fit about it, so he compromised and wore black jeans that you had to inspect for rips. While you wore a black dress that fit snugly against your soft tummy, coming up short against your thighs. If you bent over the entire place would be getting a show but you were saving that for your husband. God your husband, you loved the sound it rang through your brain, an earworm the word had become since you married. Husband, the father of your child, the man you gave your everything to and he gave you back all of himself in return. 

The dim light of the room made you squint at the incredibly small print of the menu in your hands and as you look across the table you see Eddie doing the same. 

“You see a burger here anywhere?” you roll your eyes. 

“Eddie, we did not drive an hour into the city for you to order a burger from a five star restaurant.”

“Why not?” you could see the slight slip of the corner of his mouth. You smile and turn your focus back on figuring out what to eat before the waiter comes back. The pasta sounds nice, the steak on a table across the way looks divine. You settle on a Caesar salad , Eddie orders steak and fettuccine. A beer in front of Eddie pairs with your glass of white as his hand comes across waiting for you to take hold. You indulge him as you pick up your glass with your other hand. Soft circles across your knuckles have you leaning into the table.

“Have i told you how incredible you look tonight?” Heat rushes through you at his tone, seep sultry, dark. A twist in where he laces your fingers with his own and a gleam in his eye. You know exactly what he wants to hear.

“Oh yeah? Me? What about you over there?” You return the look as the waiter sits your food in front of you interrupting whatever he was going to say.

 A tight smile is all he gives as he picks up his beer and takes a sip. He picks up his knife and you watch as he tries to cut into his steak, lifting your glass and taking a long sip you take the edge of your heels and slide it up his leg. He nearly drops his fork on the ground at the unexpected touch. Eddie stares wide eyed as he brings his food to his mouth slowly taking the bite.

You look away as if your heel isn't still making its way to his knee and sliding in between his thighs, placing your shoe right against his groin. You can see the way his body stiffens and instantly his hand is slammed against the table. It gets the attention of your waiter as if the sound was a call of his name. When he asks if you are enjoying your food and if you need anything Eddie rushes to get the words out.

“Yes! Good! Everything is delicious! Can we get the check please?” he obliges as he walks to grab the tab for the two of you. Giggling as you take in the wild look Eddie is giving you.

"You done already babe?"

"You are going to be the absolute death of me, woman.”  you pay for dinner as a treat for Fathers day, shit this whole weekend was for Fathers day. Eddie gave you hell for paying but the bruising grip on your hip as you walked through the restaurant had you knowing he was going to pay you back tenfold. 

Barely making it through the door to your hotel room Eddie had already shed the blazer you had made him wear. Lips catching between teeth and struggling to undo buttons has you both breathless and frustrated. Eddie pulls the shirt up and over his head yelling fuck it as it soars across the room. The rattle of his belt buckle sends a shiver down your spine as you sit and struggle to undo the clasp of your heels. Eddie kicks the denim that pooled around his ankles to the side as he jumps up onto the bed. His knees against the sheets, he takes one of your heels in his hands and leans it against his chest as he undoes the clasp for you. He throws the heel behind him and does the same to the other leaning over you as his hair falls around your face.

“Mhmm, I've been thinking ‘bout this all day.” your lips crash into his, a hungry, feral feeling overcomes you as you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips begin their journey down your neck and across your chest, sucking small spots and leaving small bruises, as if leading breadcrumbs to find his way back home. He reaches the hem of your dress as he nips at your thighs pushing the fabrics up so it bunches at your waist. 

“Isn't it Fathers Day, shouldn't I be the one going down on you?“ He catches your eyes as you look down and shakes his head. 

“Nope. Like you said, it's Fathers Day and that means I get whatever I want baby,  and I didn't get to have dessert.” He takes the lace between his teeth and lets it snap back in place listening as you let out a small whine from beneath him. 

“Mmm so sweet” He slips the thong along your thighs and down your legs as you let them spread for his immediate return. Except it’s not immediate, he takes his time. “So good to me, aren’t you sweetheart?” He takes his time kissing his way down your thighs to your dripping core. He drapes your legs over his shoulders as he slips his tongue through your folds and around your clit. Sucking hard as he lets the slick of your arousal coat his taste buds. Kissing your cunt as if he can’t live without its breath in his lungs. He slips his tongue into you as he lets his nose stimulate your clit. You wonder if he can breathe but the thought is lost as he slips a finger into you instead coming back to focus on that bundle of nerves. Your hands wrap themselves around his curls and grip hard, earning a moan from him that vibrates against your core as he adds another finger and a gasping moan sounding from deep within you as you chase that lightning through your core. Shaking thunderous moans of His name leave you as you give in to your husband. He slows the curl of his fingers and lets you ride out your high letting himself pant against your thigh as your grip in his hair loosens. 

Laughs from Eddie send you into a fit of your own giggles and the loving look he gives you as he hovers over you letting you taste yourself off his lips. Slow and needy you reach down and grasp Eddie's length through his boxers and a groan is made from the back of his throat.

“Eddie.” The soft moan of his name is all it takes for him to give you anything you ever wanted. Some Days it’s your laugh, other days it’s the way you take care of his daughter, but right now in this moment it’s the way you're sighing at his touch. 

You sit up pushing his shoulders back until his head hits the pillows,straddling his waist and sliding up and down his cock a few times, coating him in your slick. Lining him up with your entrance and sitting slowly until his entire length is buried inside you. A deep moan from within the both of you. You lift yourself off of him leaning back resting your hands on his thighs as the angle lets him hit that sweet spot inside of you with every drop back into his lap. The way his cock slides against your walls has you throwing your head back ,eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Uh uh , Look at me , Let me see you baby.”  your chest heaves with each thrust he sends upwards into you, unable to form words. A sudden flip has you separated from Eddie right as you were on the cusp.

“I said look at me Baby, Come on. What ? dick so good you’ve gone dumb?”  He slams into you and the sounds of his skin slapping yours, as he fucks you into the mattress, echoes off the walls.” God you’re so tight. Squeezin the fuck outta me.” You whine as he lifts you so your chest is flush with his own. “Look so good underneath me ,gonna fuck you full baby.” 

“Yes , god yes Fuck Eddie, fill me up.” you moan through each thrust, right against his ear. You reach your climax gushing around Eddie a small spray reaching his abdomen and wetting the sheets beneath you. Nail marks scratching down his back send him into his own orgasm as he coats the walls within you thick, falling forward with you under him. A weight you would always welcome. Both of you lay in utter bliss for what feels like forever before he slips out of you. You hiss at the empty feeling but welcome the warm rag Eddie drags across your center. A glass of water is given to you as you lay tangled in the sheets bringing them to your chest as you gulp down every drop. A small smile on Eddie's face has you feeling like you did the first time you saw him. Unbelievably awestruck. 

“What's on your mind Honey?” He thinks for a second but gives you an answer far from what you expect. 

“I think we just made our second child.” loud and blissfully you laugh. 

“One not enough? “ His dimples practically touch each other as he purses his lips, letting his tongue glide over the bottom.

“One is plenty, but I just can't help but want a little more of you in the world.” you sit up on your knees as you bring Eddies face down to your own, sliding a hand across his cheek as your lips meet.

"I wouldn’t mind a little more of you out there either.” 

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 10 - june 16

note: this chapter FINALLY includes some NSFW content. you have been forewarned. i do believe every chapter beyond this will also include NSFW content. y'all follow my blog– this should not come as a surprise. WELCOME TO THE FIC JAMIE DRYSDALEEEEEEE! another forewarning: this is the longest chapter yet at 24.6k words. the google doc is 54 pages long. be aware of this fact when reading.

15:90 – TREVOR

“You’re burning, Trevor.”

Trevor startles, flinching and ripping the shirt away from his face. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sun. His shirt falls to his lap and his hands instinctively come to his chest to cover his nipples– years of being woken up on the boat by the Hughes boys and Cole. 

Honey laughs with her head thrown back at his reaction, her hands finding his and pulling them down. She brings them around her body, letting go of his arms when they pass her waist. 

Trevor was too taken by Honey’s face, lit up by the sun and shining in front of him to notice anything else, at least not for a second. When his hands drop to his sides, knuckles grazing Honey’s calves on the way down, he registers where they are and where she’s sitting.

Her knees bracket his thighs, straddling his lap. Her hands are already reaching for his again, a fond smile and the roll of her eyes stunning Trevor. She brings his palms to her hips, then slides one further, down to the curve of her ass. She closes her fingers around his palm, forcing him to grab her cheek and squeeze. She bites her lip and grins down at him as she does it and Trevor twitches in his boardshorts.

His mouth drops open and Honey giggles, her nose crinkling like a little rabbit. Oh God, Trevor thinks. She’s so cute that I compared her to a woodland creature.

“I told you that you needed to grab the sunscreen, but you were too excited to fuck me on the boat to listen to me?” Honey asks. She licks her lips and smiles down at Trevor. One of her hands comes up to twist through Trevor’s hair. She pouts, mocking him. “And now I’m going to have to rub aloe on your chest because you’re a big fucking baby.”

Trevor blinks in shock. There’s no fucking way.

“Do you like making me do all the work, Trevor?” Honey asks. No, accuses. 

“I drove you out here,” Trevor stammers out, frozen underneath the girl. He doesn’t remember doing that, but he’s probably still groggy from the sudden burst of light when his shirt fell off his face. He shakes his head, blinking a few times to orient himself. 

He squeezes Honey’s bottom again, his fingers digging into her skin to ensure she’s really there. That she’s really letting him do this. 

She seems to know his motivations immediately as he does it. She presses into his touch, her eyes flashing with a playfulness he’s never seen before. She rolls her hips down towards his, brushing against the tent in his shorts. She’s smug, confident in her movements, and it’s like everything is in slow-motion, that it’s sensual and electric. 

She leans in, her lips nearing Trevor’s. She tilts her head, ready to slot their lips together. She hovers, stopping when Trevor’s lips parted in a silent gasp. He pulled back only a millimeter in surprise, and she noticed. 

Honey pushes away from Trevor’s chest, sitting back on his lap. He groans and pitches forward as her weight settles against his aching cock. His lips follow hers and she laughs him off, turning her cheek.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you fuck me,” Honey teases. “Since you’re so bad at listening to instructions.”

“Honey,” Trevor whines, his other hand dropping to her ass and pulling her forward, rocking her hips against his bulge. The fabric of her swimsuit barely grazes him, with Honey resisting Trevor’s movements. 

“Are you begging me?”Her voice is high-pitched. Her fingers dance over Trevor’s clavicles, where she licked the whipped cream from his body the night before. 

Trevor stares at her mouth, the plush, pink lips that are intimately close to his. Suddenly, it’s like he’s watching himself, pulling away from his body to view the scene from afar.

It gets darker, and darker, and farther and farther away, and Trevor nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes that he was dreaming. He wants to shove his pillow over his face and scream into it. 

He’s been having this dream every night since Honey talked to him on the boat. He thought the whipped cream dream was bad, where she pushed her hands into his waistband and reached for him. As soon as she made contact, just as her fingers curled around his weeping cock, he’d jolt awake like he’d been punched.

But having Honey on top of him, teasing him in her devoted way… it’s tearing Trevor apart. Every time he wakes up, he’s practically bursting at the seams.

He hasn’t gotten much sleep these past few days. He thinks the lack of sleep might be making him hallucinate. And the nerves are making him dream about it more, desperate for relief.

And the boys haven’t left him alone. It’s like they’re taking shifts throughout the night– someone is up in the kitchen at 3am, someone wakes up early to work out, someone stays up late playing pool against himself, and someone skating in the rink  after midnight and shooting pucks at his window. 

Someone is always awake and Trevor thinks they’re doing it on purpose. They’re taking shifts, Trevor knows it, but he just hasn’t caught them. He’s paranoid.

He hasn’t been able to jack off. 

They’re listening. He knows they are. They want to bully him some more, cut into him like they did after he pussied out on the boat on Saturday. Quinn is particularly relentless, ragging on Trevor to no end. He can’t make it worse.

But today– today– everyone’s out. Miraculously, Trevor is alone.

Cole is down at the hardware store, helping Vera with a shipment while Earl is out fishing. Luke and Jack went out to buy a water tube for the next lake day. Quinn is at Bea’s– it’s their day off. Bea and Honey don’t have work on Mondays, so Bea invited Trevor’s greatest enemy over. 

Trevor could sing.

He’s gotten past the point of guilt, past the point of pushing his desire away. Trevor just wants to come.

He reaches under the covers and pushes his boxers down with one hand, reaching down to stroke himself with the other. It’s quick and desperate and Trevor stumbles over himself a little bit, his head dropping back against his pillow.

Trevor pictures Honey grinding down against him, her pussy dripping all over him. He spits on his hand, slicking it up to make the glide easier. He groans, throat tight. He imagines her hands pressing against his chest, fingernails digging into his pecs. His fist flies over the length of his cock, squeezing precum from the tip. 

Trevor’s balls are tight and heavy and he pictures Honey reaching down to fondle the skin. He chokes out a whimper as he starts to spill over his hand, his hips twitching up like he’s trying to fuck into Honey’s imaginary and distant heat. 

Trevor slows, then withdraws his hand from his boxers. He takes a few deep breaths, then swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He stands and walks into the bathroom, tossing his boxers in the hamper before wiping himself down and washing his hands. 

He turns on the shower and keeps it cold, shaking away the guilt that comes crashing back. He shudders under the water, making it the quickest shower of his life. Trevor shakes his hair out as he exits the shower, wrapping his towel around his wait.

Someone pounds at the front door and Trevor scoffs in disbelief. He makes his way down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair so it stops drooping in his face. He bets it’s Cole, who likely forgot to grab the house keys when he went out to help Vera. 

Trevor swings the door open and a brown bag hits his chest.

“You motherfucker,” Honey snarls, pushing Trevor back into the house and slamming the door behind her. “What’s your problem, huh?” She pokes a finger in Trevor’s chest. “You flirt with me for two weeks and then you ignore me? After I licked your fucking body? What’s your problem, Zegras?”

“Honey?” Trevor asks, incredulous. He stumbles back into the wall, knocking into the corner of a table and wincing. 

“It was just a dare, you don’t have to act like I have the fucking plague,” Honey continues, her voice hard. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why weren’t you at the fruit stand?”

Trevor flinches back. “Why weren’t I at the… what?”

“I cannot believe you don’t want to flirt with me after all of that shit you said.” Honey stomps her foot and turns on her heel, slamming the front door behind her.

Trevor is left with his back against the wall, droplets of water falling onto his shoulders and moistening the paper bag in his arms. He looks down into the back and finds raspberries, flour, sugar, eggs, all of the fixings for raspberry tarts. The recipe Honey wrote out is laid to the side of the ingredients, tucked into the folds of the bag.

He’s still in the same position when Cole does come home, and only snaps out of it when the boy pretends to box against his stomach. In retaliation, Trevor drops the groceries on his toes. The boy wore flip flops to the hardware store to carry in shipment. 

He’s far away for the rest of the night, flickering between Honey’s rage when she entered the house for reasons he doesn’t know and the arousal he feels from seeing her right after he had come thinking of her. 

He eventually decides to go see Honey as soon as The Reading Nook opens tomorrow. He doesn’t get it. She hates him, then she’s mad at him for not flirting with her? And not going to the fruit stand? Is he supposed to bake these tarts to win her over?

He does just in case, and Jack laughs at him the whole time.

16:90 – HONEY

Honey is still fuming from the moment she wakes up. She practically throws herself out of bed when her first alarm rings, then speeds to work when she’s finished getting ready for the day. Her knuckles are white against the steering wheel and she thinks she’s mumbling to herself, but she can’t be sure.

She’s not even mad at Trevor, is the thing. She took it out on him last night and he definitely didn’t deserve the yells and the borderline assault from when she threw her grocery bag against his chest, but she’s not mad at him.

No, Honey is furious at herself. 

How she managed to convince herself that Trevor would show up at the fruit stand last night and everything would be like normal, Honey doesn’t know. She should’ve workshopped it with Bea, to be fair, but Bea was busy.

Busy with Quinn, because everything is easy for them.

A fresh round of grumbling falls from Honey’s mouth, a scowl marring her face.

Somehow, Trevor might be the only person that Honey is not mad at right now.

When she got home last night, she had gone over every interaction she and Trevor have had. She wrote down every fact of the matter: he approached her first. he sought her out at the bookstore. he made her carry his beer, and hand it to him, and admitted that he did it on purpose. he bought strawberries for her so that they could bake pastries together. he had pushed Jack up against the wall when he went upstairs with Honey, alone, just for going upstairs with her?

That one was less than a fact, but Bea swears it’s true. 

And the other less-than-facts: that Trevor had seemed just as affected by the whipped cream dare as Honey was.

She’s doubting that more and more with every interaction.

Then, after making her list, Honey had driven over to Bea’s and knocked on the door until Quinn answered it in his boxers, disgruntled and messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. He had, and Honey wasn’t ashamed that she had interrupted them. Good, even– they needed something to come between them. She even locked him out of the bedroom, but Bea allowed him back in after a few minutes.

Quinn had thrown his shirt and pants back on and glared at Honey, sitting on the other side of the room while Honey paced and ranted. Eventually, Bea waved him over and he settled between her legs, laying so his head rested against her stomach. 

Bea had started to pet her fingers through Quinn’s hair, but she stopped when Honey let out a series of insults and swears at the sight. Oh, and things had only gotten worse when Quinn asked Honey what her “fucking problem” was. He had laughed when Bea shushed him and explained that it was about Trevor, which is when they kicked him out for the night.

He slept on the couch until Honey left. Bea definitely rewarded him for his patience afterward. Honey wishes she didn’t know her friend so well.

But now Honey is at The Reading Nook, and it’s a new day. She sweeps the store, even though she swept it on Friday night. She dusts the windowsills, restocks some books, and unlocks the door when Scarlett knocks, knitting in hand.

The woman shuffles past Honey with a hug and a smile and takes her normal seat at the table. They make small talk for a few minutes and Scarlett shows Honey her project– a blue cardigan for her daughter, whose birthday is coming up.

Fuck, so is Bea’s. Honey has to buy her a present.

She’s about to ask Scarlett for her knitting pattern when the door to The Reading Nook swings open and slams against the doorstop.

“I need to talk to you.” Trevor stomps toward Honey, shoving a tupperware into her hands. The door swings shut again behind him, rattling in its frame. 

It’s a mirror image of what happened the night before and Honey abruptly understands the shock that overtook Trevor’s face. It’s the exact expression on her face, and when she looks over, it’s the expression on Scarlett’s face, too.

“I’m at work,” Honey replies, eyes wide. 

“Then I’ll wait for you until you’re done,” Trevor says. He’s staring into Honey’s eyes, overenunciating his words. His jaw clenches, green irises hard and determined. He finds a chair at Scarlett’s table and sits, the tight smile on his face reaching only the edges of his lips. It makes Honey uneasy.

“You don’t have to do that.” Honey plasters the same tight smile on her face and blinks at Trevor. Please, God, don’t do that.

“That’s alright, he can join us,” Scarlett coos, patting a hand against Trevor’s arm. “Hello, darling, I’m Scarlett.”

Trevor quirks his eyebrows at Honey in an ‘I-told-you-so’ sort of motion, then smiles charmingly and introduces himself to Scarlett. He dotes on her cardigan for a moment and she reaches into her bag, finding another set of knitting needles and a skein of yarn for Trevor. Scarlett starts to teach him how to cast-on stitches, and Honey watches on in something akin to horror.

He’s really planning on staying here until I’m ready to talk.

She looks down at the tupperware she’s cradling, the translucent lid revealing a neat pile of pastries. Honey’s mouth drops open and she looks between Trevor and her hands, then to the door. The bell above the door jingles as Sacha and Vera walk in, and Honey watches Vera’s face light up.

“Oh, Bear!” Vera chirps, extending her arms to Trevor.

Trevor lights up and stands, leaving his knitting in a knot on the table to hug the small woman. He kisses her cheek, then pulls out the chair next to him and helps her down. He then extends his hand to Sacha, introducing himself.

“You know, Trevor, Sweetie helped me with my shipment yesterday,” Vera continues, her gaze pointed and disappointed. “Why didn’t you come and help me, too?”

“I…” Trevor trails off, his gaze finding Honey and then snapping back to Vera. “Was busy.”

“Well, in the future, you ought to know that some people might find it rude to not help an old lady,” Vera pouts, digging for her own knitting project.

Trevor chuckles and replies, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll give my number to Earl next time I come by the hardware store. Your Sweetie will probably break something at the house and he’ll make me fix it.” He finishes his statement with a little wink. 

Honey breathes out a surprised little laugh, involuntary like it was pulled from her throat on a fishing wire. It’s quiet, quiet enough that Honey is the only one who notices, and when she does… she bolts.

She flees to the back room, tossing the tupperware of pastries onto the table with a clatter. She pushes her hair away from her face and takes a deep breath, staring at the ground. A real laugh escapes her this time. Honey feels hysterical.

Trevor is at her place of work. He’s sitting with the founding ladies of Litchton and they’re teaching him how to knit. He has a nickname from Vera and he is going to leave his number at the hardware store for Earl. 

Earl, the grumpiest, most traditional man in Litchton. The man who hasn’t updated his store in forty years because he likes things the way they are is accepting an outsider. Trevor managed to win over Earl.

Honey can’t believe it. She gave them a week, and they’re still here, three weeks into the summer. 

It is pure torture– at first because Trevor was flirting with her even though she didn’t want it, but now because Trevor cannot seem to make up his mind, and she does want it. Honey is confused. Beyond confused, because what the fuck is he doing here and why is her heart beating so fucking fast?

Someone knocks on the doorframe and Honey whirls around. 

Trevor seems smaller here, shoulders hunched. A grimace is half-formed on his face and when he opens his mouth, Honey can’t bear it.

“Don’t,” Honey says. “Please.”

“Honey.” Trevor breathes out, tilting his head, then shaking it from left to right. “I don’t know what you want from me.” He brings his hands up like he’s holding a tray, palms out.

Honey sputters, looking everywhere but at the boy. “I– I want you to leave,” she says, stumbling over her words. “I want you to… to not show up at my work and- and mingle with my customers just for a chance to talk to me.”

Trevor winces and rubs the back of his head, sheepish.

Honey continues before he can say a word. “You had chances to talk to me and you took those,” Honey explains, speaking with her hands. She places her index finger in the center of her outstretched palm and raises an eyebrow at Trevor. “Didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Trevor responds, like it’s obvious. 

Honey motions for him to zip-it when he goes to speak again. She brings her middle finger to the palm of her hand as well, counting off while poking her own hand. “And not only did you reassure me when I put whipped cream on your nipples–” Honey’s voice breaks with disbelief, a laugh that is bubbling up due to the bewilderment of the situation. “– but you also got a little hard when I licked it off of you.”

Trevor’s jaw drops and he flushes. He nods once, shakily, slamming his mouth shut and biting the inside of his lower lip.

“And then, you don’t talk to me and you don’t show up when you’re supposed to,” Honey finishes, grinding her teeth. Her tone is cool and calm, glaring daggers in his direction. “You don’t know what I want from you? How about this: I don’t know what you want from me, Trevor!” 

Trevor fishmouths, shrugging with one shoulder. 

Honey waits, prompting him with a wave of her hand.

“I just need to talk to you,” Trevor relents, his voice low. Honey is shocked by the torment that washes over his features. “I need to understand what you want.”

“I just told you what I want,” Honey says, sass dripping from her words despite the shake of her voice.

Trevor holds a hand up and takes a breath. “I need to understand if you want me to keep flirting with you or if you want me to stop,” he corrects. “Because I don’t get you.”

“You don’t get me,” Honey repeats.

“You act like you’re not interested and you couldn’t care less, then you tuck your little fingers in my waistband and run your tongue all over my body,” Trevor exclaims. “That’s confusing!”

“More confusing than constantly seeking me out, then dropping me in an instant?” 

“It’s not a competition,” Trevor hisses. He pauses and his eyes dart around the room, before finally returning to Honey. He shrugs and his voice goes from biting to embarrassed, a shy admittance. “I baked for you… twice.”

He pouts a little bit and Honey almost collapses into one of the chairs at the table. He’s precious. He’s just a boy. 

She catches herself and presses a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God,” she laughs. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Trevor asks, alarm ringing in his eyes. He repeats it, searching Honey’s face. “Can’t do what?”

Honey gestures between them. “This,” she says. “I don’t want something… confusing and hard and– and annoying.” 

It’s a weak insult and Trevor is unimpressed. Honey can tell from his look.

“If I’m going to do… this,” Honey pauses for emphasis, waving her fingers in a circle, trying to grasp something that isn’t there. The wave turns into a rapid brush shooing Trevor away when he steps forward, words on the tip of his tongue. “It can’t be hard, Trevor.”

“Well, I’m gonna be hard,” Trevor mumbles, shrugging.

“Are you trying to kid around with me right now?” Honey asks, incredulous. She feels suddenly calm, suddenly murderous at the idea that Trevor can laugh and think to joke in this very serious moment. “Was that a joke?”

Trevor seals his lips shut and clasps his hands in front of him. 

“Good choice,” Honey praises sarcastically. She grinds her teeth before speaking again. “You could not be more wrong for me, Trevor. That’s what I’ve decided.” Her voice shakes. “I want you to leave.”

“I don’t think you do,” Trevor erupts, his eyes flooded with doubt. “You wanted something that night and it scared you and I don’t think that it has anything to do with me.”

Honey stands tall. “You’re wrong,” she lies.

Trevor steps forward.

Honey steps back.

Trevor’s voice is nearly a whisper now, as sincere and genuine as Honey has ever heard it. He’s unblinking as he takes another step forward and says, “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you. It scares me, too.”

Honey clears her throat and looks away. “I’m not scared.”

Trevor hums, disapproving. 

There’s not much more room behind Honey. She can’t back any farther away from him, and he’s blocking the exit.

“Trevor,” Honey warns.

He comes to a stop right in front of her. He taps his foot, staring at Honey. “Do you want me to stop flirting with you?”

“Yes,” Honey declares, pinching her lips together. She looks past Trevor to the door, unable to find his eyes and see what they hold.

Trevor huffs out a little laugh and brings a knuckle to Honey’s chin, the contact electrifying.

She’s forced to look up into his eyes. She suffers at the sight of the quirk of his lips. 

“Do you want me to stop flirting with you?” Trevor repeats.

Honey finds herself pausing, hesitating. She more so sees his lips move than hears the words leave his mouth. She blinks.

“Yes.” Honey’s breath catches in her throat, but she holds her chin up in defiance, away from his hand.

It drops to his side. Trevor hums again, lighter this time, almost inquisitive. Pondering.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I don’t believe you.”

He turns and leaves the room, leaves Honey shaking with her back pressed against the counter. 

When she gets it together and returns to the main store, ready to wait for Bea by the door, Honey finds Trevor seated with the knitters. His eyes meet hers and he offers her a little smirk.

Honey returns to the back room. When Bea finds her an hour later, Honey stutters out a goodbye and a worthless explanation before shoving past her best friend and running out of The Reading Nook. She doesn’t dare take another look behind her.

17:90 – TREVOR

The puck hits the boards with an angry clatter. Trevor misses another shot, just going wide. He curses to himself, watching it fly awry from the second the puck leaves his stick.

Quinn pushes into him, hip checking Trevor and causing him to stumble. He doesn’t go flying, but Quinn does manage to make him fall, and he laughs at Trevor as he skates away. 

Trevor curses again, pounding his fist against the ice. He’s been off for weeks and it’s not getting better. He can’t blame it on his injury, since that healed before the season even ended. He can’t blame it on the other guys, because he’s been playing with them almost seamlessly for years. He can’t blame anything but the truth– that he’s distracted because of Honey. 

He likes her too much. He hasn’t been able to get her off his mind since their conversation yesterday, or maybe the day before that when he got off to the thought of her… or maybe last week when he felt so consumed by the tension between them that he almost exploded on the spot. Well, maybe since the first day that he bumped into her at the fruit stand and decided to go back to introduce himself.

Yeah. He’s distracted because he hasn’t stopped thinking about Honey since the moment he met her. 

Seeing her gaze grow dreamy when she looked down at his lips… Trevor was sold. It was an unconscious reaction, so unconscious that he doesn’t even think it registered in her mind. He read through the lie as soon as it left Honey’s mouth the first time, but the tiny poke of her tongue licking her lips before she spoke the second time cemented its falsity in stone. He snapped.

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Trevor shouts, picking himself up but leaving his stick and gloves behind. He lifts his helmet and places it on the ground.

Quinn spins around and skates backwards, shedding his own gear quickly. He loops around behind Trevor, but Trevor turns around to face him. 

“Stop.” Luke skates between them and puts his hands out in front of Trevor, pushing his chest back. He feels behind him for Quinn, fisting his jersey when he catches him. He’s looking between the two boys wildly, trying to capture their eyes. “What’s going on?”

Trevor catches Luke’s gaze for a millisecond and Luke leans in, studying him. He pulls back, and comes to a sharp stop. 

“Oh my God,” Luke breathes, pushing Quinn back into the boards. He drops his hand and faces Trevor, squishing Quinn. He raises his voice. “Trevor fucked Bea!”

“What?” Trevor exclaims, stepping back in surprise. “No, I didn’t!”

Cole skates up and grabs Trevor’s arm, stopping behind him. “You did what?”

“You did what?” Quinn demands at the same time, reaching for Trevor and nearly catching his hair. He’s turned murderous, lunging farther around Luke than before.

Jack approaches leisurely, but turns to crash into Quinn back-first. He creates further space between the boys, back to back with Luke. He stops Quinn, forcing him to skate backwards. “No shit,” Jack bites back with a smile. He’s laughing a little bit. “So that’s why you’ve been ragging on Trevor so much. He fucked your girl.”

“Don’t fucking talk about Bea,” Quinn argues. 

Jack rolls his eyes and knocks Quinn’s helmet back, covering his face with his red glove. “Dude. She told you that she’s sleeping with everyone.”

Quinn pulls back. “How do you know that?” He asks, stunned. 

“She told me,” Jack replies, tsking at the boy. He scoffs. “Quinn, she told you,” he says again.

“She’s sleeping with everyone?” Cole interjects, and he sounds just as clueless as Trevor feels. 

“When did Bea have the time to tell you that she’s sleeping with everyone?” Quinn asks, his focus only on Jack now.

The brothers stare at each other. Quinn searches Jack’s face for information and his own face grows stony. 

“Bea and I talk,” Jack says coyly, then his expression loses its cockiness when Quinn’s fists enclose on the collar of his jersey.

“This isn’t about Bea.” Trevor shakes his head, wanting to escape the scruffle. Cole holds onto him for a second longer before he slips away. “Quinn just needs to stop messing with me.”

Quinn smirks at Trevor for a split second before turning his attention back to his younger brother. 

Trevor loses his head at the sight of that and speeds off the ice, not bothering to shower before leaving the locker room. He takes off in the car, leaving the guys and the gear behind.

He drives to the rental house in a frenzy, stopping in the driveway and taking a breath. It feels like the first one he’s sucked in since getting behind the wheel. 

He reaches into his phone and dials a number, knowing it by heart. He raises a shaky hand to his ear, counting the rings. 

Jamie picks up on the fourth. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

“I need you to fly out to Litchton, North Carolina right now.”

Jamie coughs, a question stuttering his breaths. “Where?”

Trevor shakes his head. Duh, he didn’t tell Jamie where he was. He’s not going to see him until the season. Jamie’s in Philly now. “Fly to Winston-Salem,” he explains. It’s the closest airport to Litchton, he’s learned. Earl told him the other day. 

“Again, where?” Jamie repeats. 

Trevor rolls his eyes. He thinks. “Fine, fly into Charlotte. I’ll drive down and get you tomorrow.”

Jamie is silent on the other end. 

“Please, Jim, I need an ally,” Trevor begs. “The guys are killing me here.”

Jamie speaks after another moment of hesitation. “Okay. What time do you want me to come down?”

“Early,” Trevor says. “As early as you can.”

“Z, that’s not realistic,” Jamie tells him and Trevor can practically hear the roll of his eyes through the phone. “I have to pack and shit, and I have practice in the morning.”

“I will pay for your flight,” Trevor announces, cutting him off. “I don’t care. You can have the most expensive, bougiest flight and I will pay for it as long as you get here as fast as you can.”

Jamie sighs, taking in a deep breath. “Fine, Trev. Find me a flight and I’ll be on the way.”

“I’ll text you,” Trevor says as a goodbye and hangs up. 

He’s still sitting in the driveway of the rental house, but he thinks he’s got time before the other boys make it home. The usual setup for practices on the ice was that Trevor drove to Charlotte alone with the gear and Quinn drove all of the other boys in the car, but now Quinn has to figure out some way to pack the gear in the vehicle and still have room for the boys. With Luke’s lanky legs, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Trevor can’t believe that Luke assumed he hooked up with Bea. Isn’t it obvious that he couldn’t care less about the girl? Sure, he has her phone number, but he only got that when he was trying to get insider knowledge about Honey. 

He thought the boys knew that he wanted Honey, with how often they’ve been teasing him. Now that he thinks about it, the only one who’s been messing with him more often is Quinn. Even the shifts they seemed to be taking could just be coincidence.

Trevor suddenly realizes that he had too much faith in his friends. They’re not doing anything on purpose. They’re all idiots who think with their dicks.

So is he, most of the time, but that’s neither here nor there. He wasn’t thinking with his dick when he went to The Reading Nook yesterday. How could he have been– he told Honey exactly how he felt. He could’ve made a pass at her, could’ve just flirted with her until she was taken by his charm, but no. Trevor took a risk and for the first time in his life, told a girl just how badly he wants her. He told her how badly it scares him.

Honey had rejected the notion, but she couldn’t have been clearer about what she really wanted. She wouldn’t even look at him at first, trying to stay strong, but when Trevor tilted her chin up and she met him halfway, it all clicked.

Honey had been trying to run away from her feelings for a long time. When they showed up right in front of her– no, when Trevor appeared right in front of her, she felt that same indescribable pull that Trevor felt for her. 

They’re drawn together and while Trevor has accepted it, Honey is still fighting it. 

He’s going to keep flirting with her. He’s going to make it happen. Honey wants him, he knows that she does. He really hopes that she does.

Trevor searches for a plane ticket and buys the first one he sees– a flight that arrives in Charlotte around midday tomorrow. Jamie will just have to get to the airport by 9:30 if he wants to board on time. Maybe he can leave practice early. 

He purchases a window seat for the boy, a first class ticket to make up for the short notice and to properly portray his desperation. He sends the ticket to Jamie and the boy responds with a simple thumbs-up. 

The least Jamie could do is give Trevor a better thank you for the $400 ticket than a thumbs up, but Trevor decides he’s not going to press the issue. Jamie is doing him a favor, coming up and hanging with him for a few days. It will be good. It’ll be fun.

Trevor finally enters the house and showers, planning to hole himself up in his room for the rest of the day.

Mid-evening, Jack knocks on his door.

“Z, I got you dinner,” Jack calls. “Let me in.”

“It’s unlocked,” Trevor replies, scrolling on his phone in his bed. 

Jack cracks the door open, slipping inside. He’s got a plate in one hand and he closes the door quietly behind him. He hands the plate off to Trevor, who sat up to greet him, and then flops on the bed and pulls out his own phone.

Trevor takes in the meal– a home cooked steak, potatoes, and asparagus meal that Quinn likely whipped up when they got back.

“How’d you get back from Charlotte?” Trevor asks, spearing the asparagus and bringing it to his mouth. 

“Quinn rented a U-Haul,” Jack replies. “The little one. He attached it to the tailgate and threw all the gear in there. He also wanted me to ride in there, but Luke managed to convince him that I’d die due to the fumes. He said it was like a gas chamber and that Mom and Dad would be mad if Quinn killed me.”

Jack shrugs as if he didn’t just say one of the weirdest sentences Trevor has ever heard. It’s par for the course with the Hughes boys– these weird stories. They’re close, but they butt heads all the time, and they always need to think of new and creative ways to get under each others’ skin. Jack seems to have found something that makes Quinn furious.

“What did you do to Quinn to make him so mad?” 

“Same thing you did,” Jack scoffs. “I made a move on Bea.”

Trevor chokes on a potato, taken aback. “I didn’t make a move on Bea,” he denies. “When the fuck did you make a move on Bea?”

“At the lake, dude.” Jack pats Trevor on the back as he coughs. “Did you really not notice?”

“No,” Trevor replies.

“Huh.” Jack frowns. “I guess that makes sense. It was when you were driving and Quinn was surfing. I asked her what was going on between her and Quinn, and she said they were just hooking up and it wasn’t a ‘super serious, committed thing.’” Jack uses air-quotes, raising his voice to mimic Bea’s. He drops his hands. “And I thought that was it, but then Honey jumped in and told me that Bea wanted to have a ‘Slut Summer’ and we were all her victims.”

Trevor makes a face. “What?” He’s more surprised that Honey called Bea a slut with the girl right next to her than the fact that Bea wants to hook up with everyone in the house. 

No, thanks. Trevor is not interested in hooking up with Bea. 

She’s too loud, too comfortable with them. She’s not a challenge. Trevor wants a challenge– the challenge that Honey is giving him– because the reward will be so much sweeter. Trevor already feels a warmth in his chest at the mere idea of Honey cuddling up to him on the couch in front of the other guys– he can’t imagine how he’ll feel when it actually happens. He’ll probably have a nice tent in his pants from just her head on his shoulder, or her fingers intertwining with his own.

God, he feels like a virgin with their first girlfriend. Everything is new and exciting and each touch, no matter how innocent, makes him think of how great their chemistry will be in bed.

Oh my God, shut up, Trevor thinks to himself, adjusting his position so that Jack doesn’t notice his arousal. It’s barely a semi. It’s fine. Just stop thinking about Honey.

“Yeah, she wants to hook up with everyone in the house,” Jack continues. “She said that dating in Litchton sucks and when a bunch of eligible bachelors showed up, she knew it was her chance to have a really fun summer.”

“So you hooked up?”

“No, not yet. Next time we hang out, I think. I told her that my bed’s always open, that it’s bigger than Quinn’s, and that I have my own room. Did you know they’ve been kicking Luke out every time she sleeps over?” Jack asks, bouncing to face Trevor like it’s the juiciest piece of gossip in the world. “He’s been sleeping in the bunk beds in that spare room. I think he’s a top bunker, too, even though he’s the only one in there.”

“Well, he’ll be sharing with Jamie if Quinn kicks him out this week,” Trevor acknowledges, rolling his eyes. He forks a piece of steak and brings it to his mouth.

“Drysdale is coming?” Jack asks, sounding surprised. His upper lip curls briefly. “Why?”

Trevor glares at Jack from his peripheral. “Dude, fuck off. I don’t get why you don’t like him.”

“He’s so shy,” Jack complains. “He’s worse than Luke.”

“He’s not that shy, you’re just a dick to him because he’s quiet,” Trevor argues. “Plus, you’re being a dick to everyone lately and I need an ally.”

“Yeah, ally is right, because you’re fucking gay for each other,” Jack laughs, chirping. He raises his palms in surrender, standing and backing away from Trevor towards the door. He’s still got a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Happy pride month and all, Trev. I’m just saying that Bea’s going to be very disappointed that two of her potential hookups are off the market ‘cause they’re in love with each other.”

“Dude,” Trevor scoffs, pissed off. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

Jack laughs and slips out of the room. As soon as he closes the door, Trevor hears him shout: “Trevor’s boyfriend is coming to visit! Everyone dig out your best clothes! It’s a special occasion!”

Not for the first time this summer, Trevor considers wringing Jack’s neck. He’ll be surprised if he makes it to preseason without killing Jack and burying him in bumfuck, Litchton, North Carolina. They’ll never find his body.

18:90 – HONEY

“Honey, come look at this book,” Bea calls from within the stacks. She’s in charge of their newest shipment of books and she’s been complaining all day about how they should just organize the stacks based on “how recently they got the damn thing,” so Honey is itching to hear something from Bea that isn’t a complaint. 

She hops down from her stool behind the cash register and follows Bea’s voice, toward the ‘K-L’ stacks.

“What’s up?” Honey asks, rounding the corner.

Bea holds up a deep blue paperback book, its cover illustrated with holographic and shimmering lines that reveal a few images: twins, a centaur shooting a bow and arrow, a scorpion, a jar pouring out water. She shakes it and the images twinkle at Honey.

“That’s gorgeous,” Honey says, reaching out to take the book. 

Bea snatches it back. “Aht,” she corrects, smacking Honey’s hand with the cover. “Not for you.” She takes a circular orange sticker and applies it to the spine, marking the book as Non-Fiction.

Honey makes a face. “Then why did you call me over here?”

“I just thought it was pretty,” Bea explains, her voice pitching upward. She shrugs one of her shoulders and shakes her head, her eyes widening then returning to normal size. 

Honey knows all of Bea’s tells by now.

“What else?” Honey sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. Bea can never hide when she’s up to trouble. 

Bea shelves the book, standing up on her tippy-toes to do so. She brushes her hands against each other when she finishes, turning to face Honey.

“I was talking to someone last night and he’s looking for a book,” Bea introduces, her voice slow. She tilts her head down with an eyebrow raised and Honey steps back, unimpressed. She sets her jaw.

“And I’m a little busy tonight, so I can’t bring the book over myself.” Bea pulls her lips back in a wary smile. “But I told him that you could bring it over instead.”

Honey doesn’t react. She’s reminded of Edward Tronick’s still-face experiment and hopes that Bea will become just as uncomfortable as those babies did when their mothers didn’t react to their behavior.

Bea is unperturbed.

“Anyway, I thought that would be the perfect book for him. Can you bring it over after we close?”

“Why can’t you?” Honey asks, voice devoid of any emotion. “What’s your big plan?”

“Well, Quinn is concerned that I slept with Trevor.” Bea clasps her hands together like a cheerleader. “And I didn’t, nor do I have any interest in doing so… so I’m making Quinn dinner.”

“Are you dating yet?” Honey asks, meaning for her insult to come out as less of an actual question, but she fails.

Bea shakes her head, her ponytail flopping around behind her. “Mm-mm. We’re having fun. I actually have to tell him that I’m going to take his brother out for a ride this weekend.” 

“Why the sudden switch-up?” Honey asks, grabbing another new book from Bea’s stack and marking it with a yellow sticker– YA Fiction. 

“No reason, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with Quinn and I need to make moves,” Bea expresses, taking the book from Honey and shelving it. They do the same thing with the next book, and the next, working in tandem. “I have to fuck all the guys and we’re, like, a fifth of the way through the summer and I’ve only fucked one. It’s time to move along.”

“But you like Quinn,” Honey argues, not understanding. “If you like him, why not just stick with him?”

“Of course I like Quinn, he’s perfect,” Bea replies. “But I made a goal for the summer and I revealed it to him and Jack. It’s out now. I don’t expect Jack to keep his mouth shut. I’d look like a chump if I only fucked Quinn after setting my sights so high.”

“Maybe Quinn would just look like a really good lay,” Honey says. 

“Ugh, and he is,” Bea sighs dreamily, like she’s reminiscing. She presses a hand over her heart and smiles, then pats her chest to bring her out of her thoughts. “Which is why I’m cooking him dinner tonight.”

Honey rolls her eyes and shakes her head. 

Bea smiles, smug and sweet, then picks up her box of books. She only has about twenty more to shelve, but they’re all in different rows. “So?” She prompts.

“So, what?”

“Can you take that book to Trevor?” Bea looks at Honey expectantly. 

“I can.” Honey puts emphasis on the word like a teacher trying to correct her students’ grammar. “I don’t want to, but technically, I am able to.”

“Good!” Bea exclaims. “That’s a relief. I was worried I’d have to send it back with Quinn.” She starts to walk off, briskly.

“Wait a second, why don’t you send it back with Quinn?” Honey demands, stomping after Bea.

“He’s very angry with Trevor at the moment,” Bea says lightly, choosing her words carefully. “There’s a chance he’ll hurl the book at Trevor’s head and then burn it while Trevor watches.” She reaches up and itches the tip of her nose. After another pause, she speaks. “They’re at a point of contention right now.”

Honey stares at Bea, perplexed and disbelieving. She blinks slowly, taking in the words. “I didn’t realize we were going to have the most dramatic summer of our lives when they drove into town.”

Bea clicks her tongue, nodding with pursed lips. “They’re very dramatic.”

The girls stand in silence for a moment longer and Bea presses her lips together awkwardly. 

“Well, thanks for bringing the book over.” She winks at Honey. “I think it’ll be nice. It’s by Kerod, by the way.”

Honey shakes her head and fixes Bea with a glare, retreating to the stack to find the book with the gorgeous cover. Bea giggles a little as she walks away and Honey resents her for it.

She hasn’t told Bea about what went down on Tuesday, but the memory pops into her mind and brings a furious red blush with it at least four times a day. She has been avoiding the back room like it’s the origin point of the apocalypse, just because she can’t stand how easily Trevor saw through her. She ran away then, and she still wants to run away now. If she’s lucky, Jack will answer the door and she can hand him the book and stalk away. Trevor will be none the wiser.

Honey traces her finger over the blue spine, feeling the silver lines swirl underneath her fingers. She pulls the book out and reads the title: ‘Tales of the Night Sky: Revealing the Mythologies and Folklore Behind Constellations.’

Oh, hell, Trevor’s going to love it.

Honey dreads seeing him. but she can’t imagine allowing anyone else to see the grand smile that’s going to overtake his face at the sight of the book. He’s going to be so excited and Honey doesn’t want Bea to be the one to receive that smile. No, it’s hers. She’s the only one who can make Trevor smile like that.

What? No, she’s not.

Honey cringes at the thought, shivering in disgust at her own imagination. She meant what she said the other day: Trevor couldn’t be more wrong for her.

He’s a West Coast boy, even if he’s from New York originally. He’s a traveler, an athlete. He’s got an attitude like he’s hot shit and he knows it, and even if she’s seen softer moments from him, she knows in her gut that he’s the kind to ditch a girl after getting in her pants. 

So what if he matches her wit? So what if he is blatantly obvious about his flirting? So what if he says he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants Honey?

He could be lying. He’s a boy in his twenties. He’s just thinking with his dick, looking to say anything right to get Honey into his bed. She’s not going to fall for it, even if he’s pretty and passionate about the things that he likes. He even cares deeply for his friends, especially when they annoy him. 

Honey runs her fingers over the illustration of the fish on the cover. She bites the inside of her cheek, then slaps the back cover of the book against her other hand in a satisfying clap. She returns to the counter and picks up her own book, removing her bookmark and assuming her post. 

There’s about an hour until The Reading Nook officially closes. Bea starts on their chores as soon as she finishes stocking the new books, leaving Honey to man the entire store in case someone walks in. They won’t, because they never do. 

Honey finishes her book with twenty minutes to go and decides that that’s not enough time to find another and take it home with her.

The cover of the constellations book tempts her.

She stares at it, and the silver illustrations stare back. Honey frowns at the book, annoyed at her own interest. How dare Trevor like something as interesting as astronomy.

Finally, Honey relents. She picks up the book and turns to the introduction, her eyes raking over the page. 

“When you go stargazing on a clear, dark night, the star-studded heavens form a vast, dark dome over your head. It is the same everywhere on Earth.”

Honey blinks and hums to herself, adjusting atop her stool. She might have to borrow this book after Trevor is done with it, if the rest of the writing is as captivating as the first two sentences. She buries herself back in the pages, getting all the way through the introductory scientific sections. 

When Bea comes out of the back carrying Honey’s bag and sweatshirt, Honey is almost upset that she couldn’t start the section about constellations and the Zodiac. She’s been meaning to learn more about astrology lately, and this book is just interesting enough that she nearly forgot it was Non-Fiction. 

The girls walk out together, making their way down the sidewalk as the sun finally fades behind the mountains in the distance. When they reach the point where they have to say goodbye, Bea reaches out and squeezes Honey’s hand.

“Thank you,” Bea says sincerely.

“You owe me,” Honey replies. She squeezes Bea’s hand back. “Enjoy your very late dinner.”

“I owe you so big,” Bea confirms, leaning in to plant a kiss on Honey’s cheek. 

Honey watches her go for an extra moment, seeing her approach a car in the dark. Under the streetlight, Quinn leans against the driver’s side door, a smile curving his lips as Bea skips over to him. He connects with Bea in a sweet hug, lifting his chin so it rests on the crown of her head. He lifts a hand to wave at Honey, letting it hover before it falls back on Bea’s shoulder.

Honey smiles, waving back in the same way. She takes the sight in for a second– her best friend bouncing over to a guy and wiggling her way into his space. Quinn’s a quiet, generally grumpy guy from what Honey has seen, but he’s soft and comfortable when he’s around Bea.

The smile fades into a slight frown after a moment, and Honey turns away. She’s forlorn suddenly, hit by the desire to have someone act like that with her. She wishes someone was waiting for her by the car, that someone was holding her like she’s something precious. Honey shakes her head, willing the feeling away.

She unlocks her car and climbs behind the wheel, pulling out of her spot and driving down the mountain, almost missing the boys’ driveway in the dark. She pulls up to the wooden front door, knocking on the surface a few times. 

Honey chews her bottom lip as she waits for someone to come answer the door. She taps nervously on the front cover of the book, listening for the approaching footsteps of someone on the other side. 

Please, don’t be Trevor.

Then, fuck. Please be Trevor.

It’s not Trevor when the door swings open, and Honey is ashamed to admit that she’s a little disappointed. She also feels a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of the other boy. She catches a glimpse of dark hair and sighs, thinking it’s Jack.

At a second look, Honey blinks to make sure she’s seeing things right. There’s the foyer, all covered in wood and terribly designed. There’s the chandelier of antlers, hanging above his head. 

The man, however, Honey has never seen in her entire life.

He’s got a square face. Honey’s eyes are drawn to his jaw immediately, the curve of it sharp and flat, further embellished by the dusting of dark stubble on his face. His hair flops over his forehead in dark waves, parted messily just off-center. She can’t tell the color of his eyes, but his dark eyebrows are just as strong as his jaw and his mouth tilts down a little bit, even though he’s plastering a polite smile on his face. He’s wearing a plain gray sweatshirt with the hood above his head, and one of the strings is longer than the other.

Honey feels a bit like she’s forgotten to breathe. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Hi,” Honey breathes out, caught off guard. 

“How can I help you?” The man asks.

His voice is higher than she expected, but it’s cute. He’s cute.

“I’m, uh, dropping a book off for Z,” Honey says, her voice higher than normal. She clears her throat and forces a smile on her face to rectify her stunned, probably obviously stupid, expression. She used Trevor’s nickname. Why is she so much unsteadier than normal?

She blames it on Quinn and Bea.

The man looks Honey up and down and his smile turns sweeter. She damn near blushes. “You’re here for Z?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Honey shakes her head. “Not really, just… dropping off the book.” She fumbles with the paperback. She shoves it into the man’s hands, pausing when his fingers brush over hers. He holds them there for a second longer, just long enough for Honey to look down at the point of contact, smiling knowingly when she looks back up at him.

“I’ll give it to him.” He nods at her, his eyes soft and genuine. “Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Honey replies, standing there for a moment. The boy starts to close the door and gives her a little look when she doesn’t step away. They make eye contact and Honey opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by another voice, one that’s growing closer with each syllable.

“Jim, who was it?” Trevor calls.

Honey’s eyes widen and she turns to her car, practically jumping in the vehicle and speeding away. 

Nope. No Trevor for her tonight.

If she’s acting awestruck by some pretty boy she’s never seen before, she doesn’t even want to know how she’d act around the infuriating boy who “has never wanted anyone as much as he wants her.” She just can’t do it.

19:90 – TREVOR

Things are looking up. The reasons are threefold. One, that Trevor’s best friend is in town, staying in the house with him and his other best friends. Two, that Quinn had dinner with Bea last night and no longer wants to kill Trevor. Three, that he has a new book to read and it’s cool. 

It’s a short book, something that would take him less than a day if he had all the time in the world, but between workouts and hanging out with his friends, it’ll probably take him a week or so to finish it. He’s eager to read more, having finished the introduction last night. The book is clear without dumbing down any of the information and Trevor feels like a real astronomer. 

He wants to cancel their plans tonight and just sit on his balcony and search for each constellation he reads about, but he’s looking forward to tonight. He hasn’t seen Honey since Tuesday, three full days, and he can’t wait to introduce her to Jamie. 

He’s been debating telling Jamie the whole deal about Honey– about how Trevor had to go back and talk to her after he met her, about how she terrorized him on the pool table and overjoyed the goons by making him do a Zulu Run, how she decimated Jack in one breath, how she and Trevor have this indescribable, insurmountable tension between them, and how much he likes her…

…but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

Instead, when Quinn left the night before, Jack launched into planner mode. He stole Trevor’s phone and texted Bea about coming over for beer night and bringing Honey with her. Jamie had asked about the girls and Jack assured him that he would meet them soon enough and not to worry about it.

Trevor understands why Jamie gets quiet around Jack when the boy says dismissive replies like that.

After Jack’s impromptu planning session, Jamie had gone to bed, and Trevor had lost his chance.

Then, this morning, he and Jamie had played a little roller-hockey in the rink, and they were having too much fun laughing to talk about Honey at all. 

Then, Jamie had gone upstairs for a shower and a nap and Trevor read his book.

Other than that, they haven’t really been alone. Someone is always in the room with them, whether it be Quinn making himself a sandwich for lunch, Cole and Luke running a game of ping pong in the basement, or Jack recruiting Trevor to run to the store with him to buy more liquor and “beer night supplies.”

Trevor suspects that Jack might have an ulterior motive for the evening.

Now, it’s past dinnertime, and Jack’s only just putting a frozen pizza in the oven. He’s got a big, fluffy oven mitt on his hand, and Luke can’t stop taking pictures to send to their Mom. Jack’s hair is back in a baseball cap and he’s shirtless. He claims he was out back tanning before Trevor came downstairs, but Trevor doesn’t believe him.

No, Jack is shirtless so that he can draw Bea’s eyes when she walks through the door. What a slut.

Jack, that is, not Bea. 

The girls are a few minutes away, as per Bea’s text on Trevor’s phone, when Jamie patters down the stairs. He’s wearing an old Flyers t-shirt, something he probably got from a teammate when he was traded there. 

Jamie approaches Trevor in the kitchen, sliding onto the stool next to him, and Trevor goes to wipe the logo off of his shirt. The attempts are futile, obviously, but Jamie gets the message.

“Hey, the girls coming tonight,” Jamie begins. “Are they the same girls you guys were talking about?”

Trevor shrugs. “Yeah, we don’t really know anyone else in town. I’m not even sure there’s anyone else our age in town.”

Jamie nods, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is one of them the girl that dropped off your book last night?”

Trevor laughs. “Yeah, that was Bea. She’s the one who’s hooking up with all the guys.”

Surprise causes Jamie’s lips to part, blinking like he’s taken aback. “Her?” He furrows his eyebrows. “I thought Quinn was going to meet Bea last night.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor remembers. “He was.”

Trevor pauses, his features knitted in confusion. Bea wouldn’t have had the time to drive all the way down to the house, especially since Quinn had left to go into town right as her shift ended. She was cooking him dinner and, Trevor had assumed, talking to him about the hookup situation. It wouldn’t have made sense for Bea to drop off the book and then go all the way back to her place with Quinn.

“I guess Honey must have dropped the book off last night,” Trevor realizes quietly, speaking more to think aloud to himself rather than to explain the event to Jamie. Honey was here and he didn’t even realize?

“Honey,” Jamie repeats, feeling the name out.

Trevor nods. “Yeah, I meant to tell you about her. She’s a townie and she’s really great. I think I’m going to–”

He’s cut off by the sound of the front door banging open and Bea tumbling through it. Honey follows behind her, swinging her keys around her finger and giggling when Bea trips over her own foot.

“Bambi,” Honey chides, looping her arm around Bea’s and walking with her to the kitchen. “Still can’t walk after last night?”

“I missed a step,” Bea complains. She turns to the boys in the kitchen. “I swear.”

“Whatever you say, Bambi,” Trevor replies, teasing the girl. 

“Hey,” Honey says, her voice soft. 

Trevor’s back straightens and his eyes light up, turning to face his girl and greet her, but when he looks at her, Honey is already looking at Jamie.

“Hey,” Jamie parrots back. He holds eye contact with Honey for a second too long and Trevor starts to frown. Then, his eyes turn toward Bea and Jamie sticks his hand out. “I’m Jamie.”

Bea takes his hand and shakes it, surveying him. “I’m Bea.” She wets her lips. “This is Honey.”

“We met,” Jamie replies, looking over to Honey again. 

Trevor doesn’t like how he takes her in from head to toe. He especially doesn’t like how Honey bites back a smile and looks away from the dark-haired boy. Her eyes meet Trevor’s for a second and they grow wide before she drops her gaze completely.

Trevor’s seen that look before– it’s the same deer in headlights look that Jack adopted when Quinn walked in on him talking to Cole about Bea this morning.

Honey turns to Bea and nods. “Yeah, Jamie answered the door when I dropped that book off last night.”

There’s the confirmation that Trevor needed– so it was Honey at the door last night. He wishes he could go back in time and hop up from the couch before Jamie did so that he could answer the door himself. 

“The rest of the guys are downstairs,” Trevor says, changing the subject and hopping up from his stool. He starts to gesture towards the stairs, his hand hovering above Honey’s side but not quite touching her. “Jack planned a spectacular party for you girls.”

“Oh, God,” Bea laughs, taking a step towards the steps. “Here I was, thinking this was just another beer night at the boys’ house. I would’ve dressed up if I knew it was a party.”

Honey presses her lips together for a split second, then grins at Bea. Her tone is playful and teasing, but still biting. “I don’t think it matters what you wear, Bea.”

Bea pulls back with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrows. “Why not? I’m allowed to look nice.”

“It all looks the same on the floor, wouldn’t you agree?”

Trevor’s jaw drops open and he laughs, catching himself off guard with the sound. “Holy fuck, Honey.”

Honey shrugs. “It’s true.”

“You can’t just say shit like that–”

“I mean, she’s right,” Bea agrees, interrupting Trevor and grinning like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “It all ends in a pile anyway.”

Jamie snickers, standing partially behind Trevor. 

Trevor loathes the way Honey looks past him to smile at the quiet boy. He presses his fingertips into the small of Honey’s back, guiding her towards the basement. Ha. Suck on that, Jamie. I’m touching Honey and you’re not.

Honey pulls away from his touch and shoots him a sharp look. She shakes her head minutely, making a face at Trevor. It stuns him, and when she bounds down the stairs after Bea, Jamie bumps into the stationary boy with an “oof.”

“Dude,” Jamie complains.

“What happened last night?” Trevor asks. “When you answered the door and picked up my book?”

“Nothing.” Jamie shrugs. “Honey and I talked for like two seconds, I took the book from her, and then you came to check on me, and she left.”

“Huh,” Trevor replies. Why didn’t she want to see me?

“She’s cute,” Jamie says, sounding far away.

Trevor whirls around to face him. Jamie’s got this distant smile on his face, eyes looking down the stairs where the girls disappeared. 

“I know,” Trevor states. He stares at Jamie, frowning a little. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees. He meets Trevor’s eyes and grins. “Wanna go party?”

Trevor relaxes a little. It’s hard to be suspicious of Jamie, since the kid is so happy all the time. It’s fine if he thinks Honey is cute. Trevor and Honey already have something going on and that isn’t just going to change because Jamie is here. Trevor’s going to continue flirting with the girl, going to keep trying to win her over. Jamie’s presence is a comfort to him, not a threat to his flirtationship with Honey.

Right.

With a deep breath, Trevor and Jamie make their way down the stairs. Jamie heads to the couch, striking up a conversation with Luke about the movie on the big TV. Cole is tossing a football up and down, laying on the loveseat with his feet dangling over the edge. Jack and Quinn are playing pool, and Honey and Bea are sitting on the stools giggling with each other. 

Trevor wanders over and catches the tail end of what Bea’s saying, a snide remark about one of the shots that Quinn took. 

“I’d like to see you do better,” Quinn replies, looking unimpressed. He holds the cue out towards Bea, but she waves him off.

“I’m okay watching, actually.” 

Trevor leans on the windowsill behind Honey, one of his arms resting on the edge of her stool. “Why don’t you show him how it’s done?” He asks, tilting his chin up at Honey in a little nod.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m okay.”

Trevor shrugs in assent, not pressing the matter. “How was your day?”

Honey pauses and shares a glance with Bea. “It was good. How was yours?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you,” Trevor bites back with his most charming grin.

Honey raises her eyebrows in surprise and chuckles out of the side of her mouth. She opens her mouth to say something, cut back with a snarky remark like she always does, but it never comes.

Jack sinks the 8-ball with an interrupting clink and cheers, whooping in a circle around Quinn. 

Quinn glares at him, reracking his stick. He snatches the stick out of Jack’s hand and adds it to the line of cues. 

“Sore loser,” Jack teases, playing with fire.

“Sore winner,” Quinn replies, his face dark. 

“Oh, cut it out,” Luke groans from the couch. “No one wants to hear another fight between you two. Quinn, c’mere, we’re going to play Mario.”

With one last threatening glance at Jack, Quinn joins his brother on the couch and grabs a controller. They’re starting up the game now, picking characters, and Trevor turns to Honey. 

“Do you want to play?” He asks. “I’d love to see you kick some ass in Mario.”

He sees Bea roll her eyes out of his peripheral vision, clearly unimpressed by his compliment. Jack sidles up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his hand on her hip. “Wanna do a shot with me?”

Bea hops up and nods. “Sure.”

Trevor looks at Honey expectantly, waiting for her to answer.

“I think I’m just going to stick with Bea, but thank you for the compliment, Trevor.” Honey reaches up and pats Trevor’s cheek, a little harder than he thinks is necessary. “Why don’t you go play for the both of us?”

“Will you cheer for me when I win?” Trevor smiles, trying not to feel hurt by the rejection.

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Sure, Trev. I’ll cheer for you when you win.”

“Cool,” Trevor says. “Keep an eye on me, yeah?”

Honey fixes him with a look. “It’s very hard to take my eyes off of you, Trevor.”

Even though she says it sarcastically, Trevor grins like she meant it. His chest warms like she meant it. At least she admits to looking at him, even if she’s teasing him when she does. He’s worried about nothing– Honey is getting comfortable and Trevor isn’t doing anything to push her away. She’ll be his girl in no time.

Trevor nods and taps her knee in farewell, turning to hop over the couch and settle in next to Jamie.

The boys are racing with the screen split into four. Jamie’s playing as Luigi, Luke is Yoshi, Cole is Bowser, and Quinn is a Shy Guy. They’re playing some castle circuit, and the game quickly gets heated.

Cole, as a testament to how peculiar he is, wins each game. He can’t play pool for shit, but he can dominate in Mario Kart. It’s his one calling card and he never stops bragging when they play. 

Eventually, they finish the circuit. Trevor had kept an ear out for Honey and Bea in the area behind him, laughing and giggling. Occasionally, they’ll clink tiny shot glasses together with Jack and down them, and Bea winces every time. 

Quinn looks over his shoulder with each cough that leaves Bea’s mouth, but bites his cheeks instead of wandering up to her when Jack rubs her shoulders soothingly. 

Honestly? Trevor admires his restraint. He’s taking Bea’s ‘Slut Summer’ very well, now that it seems to be in full swing. 

Trevor doesn’t notice Jamie grow quieter and quieter with each time one of the boys yells over him. He had procured Cole’s controller when he left to take a leak and a few shots with the other three “partygoers,” so Trevor’s focus is his kart and Peach’s position on the leaderboard. 

They’re in the middle of Rainbow Road when Cole comes back and demands to take the final lap. He snatches his controller back from Trevor, since Trevor was in second and “it was his controller first!” 

Trevor blanches and complains, and Jamie silently passes over his own controller. Fifth place isn’t bad, but Trevor can do better. He thanks Jamie for the controller, remembering why Jamie’s his best buddy, and Jamie sinks into the couch. He sets his feet up on the coffee table and stretches his arms out over the back of the couch. Trevor leans forward, focusing.

“Trevy-baby,” Bea’s voice calls from behind him. Trevor bites his lip as he takes a turn on the difficult course, managing to swipe an item box while drifting. “Will you come here a minute?”

“Kind of in the middle of something, Bea,” Trevor replies. 

Quinn makes a noise of disapproval, but his eyes stay focused on the screen and he throws out a red shell, hitting Luke’s kart.

“Okay, well, we need another person,” Bea bites back, sounding a little annoyed. 

Trevor nudges Jamie with his elbow. “Can you go see what they’re talking about?” Trevor has just climbed into second place, and he has eyes on the back of Cole’s kart.

“Yeah, bud, no problem,” Jamie agrees easily, standing from the couch and disappearing from Trevor’s eyeline. 

Trevor refocuses on the game, eying an item box that will hopefully afford him a blue shell, giving him the chance to knock Cole out of the running and win, so he can listen to Honey cheer for him. 

Just as Trevor gets the box and triumphantly shouts out a “Yes!”, Luke strikes them all with lightning from fourth place and ruins Trevor’s chances. Luke even speeds up and beats Trevor out for second place, but it wasn’t as tight as it was for Cole.

“You know that was my fucking controller, dude,” Trevor grumbles at the other boy. “I was in second, I could’ve won. You’re an impatient fuck.”

He tosses his controller on the table in front of him and crosses his arms over his chest. He wanted Honey to cheer for him, wanted her attention on him again. 

I guess I can see what Bea wanted now.

Trevor turns, looking over the back of the couch towards the girls and Jack and Jamie. “What did you need from me, Bea?” He asks, voice still pouty from his loss.

He’s met with the sight of Honey and Bea sitting on the edge of the pool table and his jaw slackens. They’ve both lost their shirts, left in bras and shorts. Trevor’s eyes fix on Honey’s chest and he can already feel his mind turning. Her skin looks soft and smooth and the curves of her cleavage are visible in the bra, but not bulging up like a corset. She looks like she would if she were lazing around in Trevor’s bathroom while he takes a shower, getting ready for the day. He can imagine talking to her over the spray of the shower, begging her to come wash his hair even though she’s already said no three times.

Trevor notices the shot glass resting between her breasts, balancing against the band of her bra. She’s looking down, fixing it and trying not to spill a drop. She has no idea that Trevor is practically salivating at the sight of her.

There’s a lime between her lips, facing outward. 

Oh, fuck.

Jamie licks the back of his hand, sprinkling some salt on the patch of wetness. Jack does the same thing, standing between Bea’s parted legs, and Trevor’s head whips toward Quinn.

The older boy’s expression is nonchalant, barely passing over Bea and Honey before returning to the television. The only sign that he could be bothered is the clench of his jaw and the hard stare of his eyes, but Trevor receives that look every day, so he quickly realizes that he’s not going to find any shared outrage from Quinn.

Trevor frowns. He feels like he’s turning sour, rotting from the inside out as Honey brushes her hair back and looks up at Jamie, the edges of her mouth turned up in a smile. The lime wobbles between her lips, but doesn’t fall. 

“Cole,” Bea calls, distracted. She pushes her boobs together and Jack plops the shot glass securely in her cleavage, letting his hand linger there. “Can you count us down, please?”

“No problem,” Cole replies, not even looking at the scene in front of them. “From three? Or do you want, like, a ten count?”

When Trevor looks around, he realizes that he’s the only one staring at the four people. Quinn’s facing forward, debating a new circuit with Luke. Cole is tossing a piece of popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it. 

“Three’s fine,” Bea replies, bringing a lime up to her own lips.

“Whenever you’re ready, Coley,” Jack adds, fitting his hand into the curve of Bea’s waist. He stares down at her and she stares right back, the air between them heated. 

Trevor looks back at Honey and Jamie, at the way Jamie is slightly bent over so that his eyes are even with Honey’s. She carefully reaches her arm up and removes his ball cap, turning it backwards atop her own head. She smiles at Jamie when she does so, and Trevor’s vision turns red at the edges. 

That’s his smile. Honey is his girl, not Jamie’s.

Cole starts to count down from three, and Trevor can’t look away. When Cole says “go!”, Jack licks the salt off of his hand and lunges forward to retrieve the shot glass from Bea’s cleavage, throwing his head back and downing the liquor without using his hands. Bea reaches up to remove the glass from his mouth, then his teeth bite into her lime. He spits it out after the citrus bursts over his tongue and it lands with a plop on the floor, but neither of them care. Bea’s eyes are wide when Jack’s lips close over her own and his tongue slips into her mouth, but they quickly flutter shut and she pulls him close.

Quinn is not looking. If he was, Trevor thinks he might rip Jack’s hair out.

Jamie is much more delicate with his body shot, taking his time. Trevor grinds his teeth, watching how Honey’s eyes sparkle as they take in the dark-haired boy in front of her. She inches forward a little when Jamie laps at the salt on his hand, then she pushes her chest out so he can take the glass from her body with ease. Jamie brings his hand to his mouth to take the glass out, setting it neatly on the edge of the table beside Honey, and leans in, plucking the lime from Honey’s mouth. He pulls away from her, giving her a goofy lime-rind-covered smile and Honey matches it.

Trevor is aghast– his mouth is wide open and he’s staring at the big hand that’s palming Honey’s thigh. He wants to rip Jamie’s hand off of her skin and replace it with his own, lean in and kiss her the way that Jack is kissing Bea.

Fuck, why didn’t he listen when Bea called his name? Why did he send Jamie over to see what they needed? That could’ve been him between Honey’s legs.

He’s never playing Mario Kart again.

The moment is over in under a minute, but Trevor feels like he’s been watching it for years on end. He can feel the muscles on his face clenching, his eyebrows narrowing at the sight of his ex-best friend and his girl so close together. 

In an instant, Honey is looking at him, and Trevor just knows that she’s startled by the anger she sees written all over his face. She looks at Trevor, then to Jamie, then back to Trevor. Her lips part and her chest heaves, but Trevor refuses to let his eyes fall. No, he’s keeping his gaze locked on Honey’s until she starts to squirm, feeling behind her for her shirt and pulling it on.

She looks at Trevor again when she’s finished covering herself up, and Trevor nods. 

Then he stands and goes upstairs, locking himself in his bedroom and punching his pillow until he feels better (and until the pillow stops bearing a striking resemblance to Jamie’s face).

20:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes in an unfamiliar bed, groaning at the soreness of her muscles. It’s a twin sized bed, smaller than the one she has at home, and she feels squished. It was this or the couch, and Honey didn’t want to sleep on the couch, so Jamie took that instead. 

She was too drunk to drive home last night, even though it’s less than ten minutes on the road and she knows this mountain by heart. She slept at the boys’ house, in the spare room. Jamie had found a big shirt for her to wear and helped her pull it over her head. He had messily braided her hair out of her face, then wished her goodnight, and left the room.

That was it. 

Honey’s stunned by how gentlemanly it all was, even now, hours later.

She didn’t dream the night before– she never does when she goes to bed drunk. 

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and sways with dizziness, blinking hard to clear the spots of darkness from her vision. The sun seems to be just peeking over the mountains, bright and harsh against her eyes, even when they’re closed. 

“Ugh,” she mutters, knowing that now that she’s awake, there’s no way she can fall back asleep. Her stomach growls, loud and embarrassing even though she’s the only person in the room. She clutches at her middle, rubbing over the skin to soothe it. 

Honey stands, taking a moment to gather her bearings. The hangover is hitting her hard, even though she didn’t drink that much. 

Well.

After Trevor stormed upstairs, Honey was upset and annoyed. She let Jack mix her drinks until Bea dragged him upstairs, and then she employed Cole as her personal bartender. 

Together, they learned that Cole is a terrible mixologist, but he is able to juggle. He and Honey tossed a lime back and forth for almost an hour without dropping it, all the while giggling and chatting. When Honey finally dropped the lime, Cole grabbed three and threw them up in the air, laughing until he figured out how to stagger the limes properly. 

She had almost fallen asleep on the couch, tucked into Luke’s side. She had crawled up to him and tousled his curls with a pout on her face before turning and facing the TV to watch the movie he had thrown on. She also remembers Quinn snorting with laughter after Honey laid her head on Luke’s shoulder, to which she had slurred: “What are you laughing at?”

Before she could slur out something embarrassing and mean about Bea hooking up with Jack instead of Quinn, Jamie had appeared in front of her and helped her up, saying that it was late and she looked ready for bed. 

Everything else comes to her in little flashes and there are gaps missing. Honey’s not too concerned. She’s never been an embarrassing drunk.

Plus, after three weeks, she might actually consider these guys to be her friends.

Honey wanders upstairs to the kitchen, finding a pot of fresh coffee in the maker and pouring herself a mug. She finds milk in the fridge and cereal in the cabinets, pouring herself a bowl. With her cereal in one hand and her coffee in the other, Honey approaches the sliding glass door to the balcony. 

She makes it to the door and frowns to herself, trying to find a way to open the door without putting down one of her items. 

As she’s tucking her mug into her elbow, burning herself a little bit on the ceramic, Jamie appears on the other side of the door.

He jumps back a little, just like Honey does. They both let out a laugh at their mirrored actions, and Jamie reaches out to slide the glass door open. 

“Coming to join me?” He asks.

“What are you doing up?” Honey asks at the same time.

They laugh again. 

“I did a quick workout this morning,” Jamie explains. “I missed my practice yesterday, so I wanted to get up and get some extra work in.”

“Cool,” Honey muses, setting her cereal bowl on the armrest of one of the rocking chairs. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be up.”

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Jamie says. “You were pretty out of it last night.”

Honey crinkles her nose. “Was I?”

“It’s not every day that Luke has a pretty girl trying to figure out his curl pattern from touch alone.” Jamie smiles, lines appearing on his cheeks, but not dimpling like Cole’s. 

“Well, if that’s the worst thing, at least I remember it,” Honey replies. She eats a spoonful of her cereal, waving her spoon towards Jamie. A splash of milk flies at him, but he brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “You were really quiet last night,” Honey notices. “Why is that?”

“These guys aren’t, like… my guys,” Jamie explains, shrugging and making a face. “Trevor knows that I’m not the best with this crowd, but he said he needed an ally. So, I came as fast as I could.” 

“Why don’t you like the guys?” Honey asks, furrowing her brow.

Jamie shrugs again. “Jack doesn’t like how quiet I am, Cole and Luke like Jack more than me ‘cause they've known him longer, so that makes sense, and Quinn just doesn’t really like to stray from his normal group of friends.” 

“Well, what about Trevor?”

“We’re close because we were on the same team in California. We became fast friends when I was drafted to the Ducks, but I’m not childhood friends with Trevor like the other guys are. Now, I’m in Philly, so Z and I aren’t even together all the time anymore.”

“Does he prioritize Jack over you?”

“Jack’s needier than me,” Jamie explains, shaking his head. “Trevor tends to him more. It’s really important to keep Jack happy.”

“I’ve noticed that he can be a little… full of himself,” Honey agrees.

“Yeah.” Jamie cracks a smile. “I’m a little easier to get along with, I think.”

Easier.

It triggers something in her. Honey straightens up like an electric current ran through her. 

“Do you want to go on a hike, Jamie? With me?” She asks, the idea clicking in her head half-formed.

The easiest way to get over someone is to get under someone else, Bea says. 

They can talk and get to know each other. It’ll be like another workout for Jamie, making up for the missed practice even more. Plus, Honey wants something easy. She wants to be as happy as Quinn and Bea. Jamie’s sweet and they clicked last night, and she wants to learn more things about him. He’s not as volatile as Trevor and Honey doesn’t think that he would upset her as much as Trevor does, all the time.

“Just the two of you?” comes the voice from behind Honey, the creak of a floorboard signaling the arrival of another person.

Honey spins around in her chair, looking at the sliding door. Of course, it’s Trevor. Just when she thinks about him, he appears, and of course he heard her invitation. His tone is a little judgmental, a little sad, and a little hopeful. 

“Just the two of us,” Honey doubles down, pummeling all hope Trevor had of joining them.

Jamie smiles at Honey, grateful that she’s willing to prioritize him over everyone else in the house and willing to invite him out. “That would be awesome, thanks, Honey. I’ll go pack some waters and make some sandwiches.”

He stands from his chair, then reaches down and clasps Honey’s hand, giving it a squeeze before walking back into the house. 

Trevor watches Jamie walk past him through the balcony door, then turns back to Honey. 

“You can’t go out with him,” Trevor says.

“Why not?” Honey asks, affronted. 

“Because he’s not me,” Trevor replies.

“I know. That’s why I should go out with him. He wasn’t afraid to full-send a body shot, unlike you. He also helped me to bed when I was drunk last night, and you locked yourself in your bedroom because you were pouting,” Honey bites back, still stewing about the way Trevor had ignored Bea's wave over. 

She really had wanted Trevor to take the body shot off her, wanting to test their chemistry again after the whipped cream incident. She had expected him to want to do the same. She was wrong, again, and she hates being wrong. 

“Jamie isn’t very wishy-washy about his intentions, Trevor.”

“Do you want to know my intentions?” Trevor demands. “I intend to get you to go out with me. I intend to make you like me. I’m not going to ruin that by rushing into this too fast. I saw how you looked the other night.”

Honey blanches at Trevor’s words. “Don’t bring that shit up.”

“Honey, you ran out of the house and took Bea with you. You looked horrified,” Trevor presses.

“Does it look like I’m reacting the same way now?” Honey replies, incredulous. “Clearly, things have changed and you need to accept that. I’ve decided I want something different, Trevor.”

“Like Jamie.”

Trevor’s voice is chilling. His volume is low and definite. He glares at Honey, crossing his arms over his chest. He bites his tongue and taps his foot. 

Honey looks him up and down, a little nervous at the sudden change up. Did she go too far?

No, she decides. She hasn’t gone too far. Trevor won't let her run away from this right now, and she has to get him to let her go. She hasn’t gone far enough.

“Yes, like Jamie,” Honey confirms. She crosses her own arms over her chest. 

Trevor glares at Honey a moment longer, and his anger flashes, but Honey catches a glimpse of resignation.

“Fine,” Trevor spits out, shaking his head. “Do what you want. Don’t let me or my feelings fucking stop you.”

Honey opens her mouth to retort, but he’s already closing the balcony door behind him.

She doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Honey returns to the kitchen and dumps her cereal down the sink, turning on the garbage disposal. Jamie asks if she wants anything particular on her sandwich, and she says no. She walks to Jack’s room, remembering where it was from Cole’s tour, and knocks quietly. 

There’s no movement inside, so Honey cracks the door open. She sees Bea stir and blink an eye open, becoming more alert when she spots Honey in the doorway. Jack lays fast asleep, his arm over Bea’s stomach.

“I’m going hiking with Jamie,” Honey whispers. 

“Okay,” Bea mouths. She side-eyes Jack, then widens her eyes at Honey.

“How was it?” Honey says, voice still low. She’s wary, knowing that look.

“So. Fast.” Bea rolls her eyes back and sticks her tongue out, pretending to be dead. “I need to go to Quinn’s room.”

Honey snickers behind her fingers, a loud snort escaping her.

Bea opens her mouth in a silent scream, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She has to squeeze her eyes shut and mouth “Go away!” to Honey so that she doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy beside her. 

Honey slips from the room and meets Jamie down by the front door, a backpack on his shoulders full of water and their lunch. He tells her that he even packed a blanket for when they stop to eat, so they don’t have to sit on the ground. 

She spots Trevor over his shoulder, the back of his head unmoving, but Honey can tell that he’s still seething. She feels a pull to him, wanting to brush a kiss behind his ear and tell him that she’ll be back soon, but the feeling is overtaken by guilt and she almost gags. 

That’s right– she’s still hungover. 

“We’ll just have to stop by my place really fast so I can get into some hiking clothes,” Honey tells Jamie, sliding her shoes on and grabbing her keys from the table next to the door. 

Trevor releases a breath and seems to shake his head, listening in on them. Honey wobbles a little bit at the noise, frowning deeply. She grasps the door handle and allows Jamie to lead the way out of the house, relishing in the fact that she can slam the heavy door behind her and show Trevor that he’s not bothering her. 

Jamie talks a little bit on the drive and offers to wait in the vehicle while Honey changes inside. She comes back in athletic shorts and an old wrinkled practice jersey from Bea’s volleyball days. It’s supposed to be a hot day, otherwise Honey would be wearing one of her favorite ratty tees and her best leggings. The jersey falls like a muscle tee and she knows Jamie can see her black sports bra when she walks, but it’s no different than when Trevor felt over the lace around her ribs last Friday.

They go to Honey’s favorite spot, twenty minutes up the road. A few years ago, she got really into running and used to run this trail all the time. It’s two and a half miles up to the outlook from the parking lot, so she figures that she and Jamie can hike up and stop for lunch at the top.

“I have a proposal for you,” Honey says. 

“What’s up?” Jamie asks, hooking his backpack over his shoulders and making sure his shoes are tied. 

“Tell me about you on the way up and I’ll tell you about me on the way down.” Honey presents the idea with a big smile, shrugging enticingly at Jamie. 

“Like what?” 

They start to make their way toward the mouth of the trail, and Jamie motions for Honey to go first.

“I don’t know. Where’d you grow up? What’s your family like? What’s the deal with you guys and hockey? Stuff like that,” Honey says, looking ahead of her but calling over her shoulder. “I’ll lead the way up and listen, and then you can lead the way down and ask me whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Jamie agrees. “I grew up in Toronto, moved to California when I was drafted, lived with Z for a while. That was fun. I was traded to Philly this past year and I’ll be playing there for a while, I guess.”

“What do you like most about Toronto?” Honey asks.

Jamie responds and they trek on, filling the trail with the sounds of soft steps and chatter. They reach the peak in a little under an hour and a half, making great time. Jamie sets out the blanket for them facing the rest of the mountains, and Honey sits cross-legged on the edge of the fabric. She toes her shoes off and leaves them off to the side, giving her feet a rest. 

Jamie hands her a sandwich and a water, which they eat in silence. After finishing the first half of his sandwich, Jamie pauses, leaning back on his hands. He looks out over the horizon, squinting at the brightness of the sun. He adjusts his white ballcap on his head, trying to shade himself from the light a bit.

“It’s really pretty,” Jamie says. “I get why you would want to live here.”

“It’s the best place in the world,” Honey says simply, following his gaze. She breathes in, feeling the fresh, crisp, mountain air fill her lungs. 

She looks over at Jamie and he meets her there, smiling softly. His eyes glint in the sun and Honey notices his freckles, sprinkled all across his nose and the apples of his cheeks. They break eye contact simultaneously, looking back out. Honey adjusts so she’s sitting the same way Jamie is, leaning back on her hands. 

“You can see so far,” Jamie observes.

Honey nods. “Yeah. My dad used to say that if you could count ten rows back, then you could see all the way to Tennessee. That was at my house, so maybe it’s eight here.”

They pause and Jamie raises a hand, pointing at each layer and counting quietly. He points to a faded, barely visible row to the right of Honey’s vision. “Nine,” he says confidently. “We’re practically in the central time zone already.”

His hand drops, next to Honey’s. His pinky covers hers, splayed out on the blanket. 

Honey’s stomach flips a little bit and she feels the tips of her ears grow hot. She bites back a grin and looks down at her lap, then reaches for her bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Can I start asking you questions yet?” Jamie teases, knocking his shoulder against hers, tilting his head down to catch Honey’s eye. “Or do we have to wait until we’re actually walking down the mountain?”

“Whatever you want, Jam,” Honey says. 

Jamie teases her, forming an ‘o’ with his mouth and wiggling his eyebrows. “Whatever I want.” He grins.

“You sound like Bea.” Honey rolls her eyes and lengthens her neck from side to side, hoping to crack it.

“Let’s start there,” Jamie suggests. “How did you guys become friends?”

“We met in preschool. She had a pack of pink markers and a boy named Will stole mine because he was a dick and Bea shared hers.” Honey smiles fondly at the memory. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

“You still have beef with this Will kid?”

“Absolutely, he sucks.”

“Was that here? In Litchton?”

Honey’s smile fades. She pauses, then shakes her head. “No, we grew up in Charlotte. Litchton was my dad’s vacation home when he was a kid and he wanted me to have a similar experience as him.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you and your dad close?”

Honey grimaces. Jamie doesn’t know. He’s just asking about Honey’s past, the same way Honey asked about his on the walk up here. He doesn’t mean any harm.

“Um… we used to be,” Honey replies. She looks back out at the mountains. “When Bea and I chose to move up here, I bought the house from my dad for a cheaper price– I spent every paycheck for like a year on the place, plus all the money I had saved up from my high school job, and most of Bea’s paycheck since she was living with me. We stayed in touch until I handed him the last check.”

Jamie hums, listening intently. It’s a neutral sound, non-judgmental. Honey’s lips quirk up and she continues.

“My parents didn’t love when I decided to move up here and decline my college acceptances. I wasn’t willing to budge and neither were they, so we… lost touch.” Honey trails off, taking a deep breath.

“Do you miss them?” Jamie asks, thoughtful. “Do you miss Charlotte?”

“I miss them on, like, my birthday.” Honey shrugs. She extends her legs and crosses her ankles. Her fingers twitch under Jamie’s. “Their anniversary, and whatnot. As for Charlotte, I don’t miss that place at all.”

“Not a city girl?”

“Not at all. Charlotte was too rigid for me. People are busybodies there and they have great jobs and drive nice cars and go to good schools… I just wanted to live somewhere where I could relax and no one would bat an eye.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, nodding. He frowns, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. “I get it.”

They sit in silence a little longer and Jamie moves his hand so it completely covers Honey’s. She smiles and turns her head to the right, away from Jamie. She bites her tongue between her teeth and takes a deep breath. Her stomach is flopping all over the place.

God, does Bea feel like this all the fucking time? It’s miserable.

“Here’s a lighter question,” Jamie chuckles, shuffling closer to Honey. “What curl pattern did you decide on for Luke?”

Honey throws her head back laughing, pulling her hand out from under Jamie’s and reaching for her shoes. “I think it’s time we head back down,” she says. “Since you’re starting to ask me questions that I can’t answer.”

“Do you mind if I take my shirt off? It’s hot out here,” Jamie complains, removing his hat from his head with a dazzling grin and placing it on Honey’s head. “Hold that for me, will you?”

“I don’t mind,” Honey replies, fixing the hat on her head. She grins over at Jamie, then reaches down to tie her shoelaces again.

Jamie pulls his shirt over the back of his head, stuffing it into his backpack. He takes Honey’s trash and his own, pushing them into the side pocket of his bag, then sliding his water bottle on top of them. 

Honey helps him pack up the blanket and they head down the mountain. Jamie peppers her with questions, both easy and funny and hard and deep. He makes her laugh, he makes her think, and they have fun. 

They make a good pace and Jamie does a good job of leading the way. He stops with half a mile to go, and Honey bumps into him, trying to watch her step.

“What?” Honey asks, peering around him to see if there’s something blocking the way. 

Jamie turns to face her and Honey gets an eyeful of pale torso due to their proximity. She looks up at Jamie, stepping back. She stumbles back, tripping over a root, and Jamie catches her waist, steadying her.

He opens his mouth in question, then closes it. He looks down at Honey’s lips and she feels her mouth go dry. His eyes are wide, clear, and light and they’re regarding Honey, swirling with an unidentifiable emotion. 

Honey takes in a breath. 

“New question,” Jamie murmurs.

Honey nods, and Jamie’s other hand sweeps her hair off her shoulder, thumbing the side of her neck.

“I really want to kiss you.”

“That’s not a question,” Honey comments, voice hushed.

Jamie licks his lips, breathing out a laugh. “Can I kiss you?” he corrects.

Honey gulps, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her hand makes its way to Jamie’s traps, his muscle hard beneath her palm. His skin is pinking a little bit, affected by the sun and the heat, and Honey tilts her head. It’s peculiar. She just feels… like she’s an inch out of place.

She looks into his eyes and he’s gazing at her so patiently that Honey can’t help but lean up and slot her bottom lip between his. 

There’s relief washing over her, taking all the tension from her shoulders. She loses herself in the kiss, overwhelmed by how good it feels to be doing this.

It’s not because of Jamie, Honey realizes. It’s because she’s finally ready to do this sort of thing again. Maybe she is looking for this, searching hard.

He swipes his tongue across Honey’s bottom lip and she opens for him. Honey brings her hand from his traps up into his hair, raking through the strands. He smiles against her lips and Honey repeats the motion.

And then it hits her again– she’s just an inch too far to the left. This isn’t right. 

There’s nothing wrong, Honey reassures herself, using Jamie’s hair as a crutch to keep her in place. It fails, because the strands are too short and too thin and too straight, and it all clicks.

Honey pulls away.

Aw, hell.

“Jamie,” Honey sighs, closing her eyes. She bites her lip and covers her eyes with one of her hands. 

“Nope, it’s okay,” Jamie replies, surprisingly upbeat. He plucks his hat off Honey’s head, hiding his own hair underneath it. He wraps his arms around Honey’s shoulders and drops a kiss on her head. “I know that tone.”

Honey groans, frustrated. She presses her face into Jamie’s pec, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“I have my next question for you,” Jamie teases, poking her arm when he pulls away.

“What?” Honey snaps, miserably.

“How long have you been fucking Trevor?”

“Fuck off,” Honey mewls, sagging like the weight of the world just fell on her shoulders. 

“Nah, I saw that look between you two.” Jamie grabs Honey’s hand and starts to lead her along the trail again.

She follows, rolling her eyes and shaky on her legs. “I’m not fucking Trevor.”

“Why not?”

Honey opens her mouth, then stumbles when she realizes she has no answer for him. She thinks, searching her mind, and she misses the smirk that grows on Jamie’s face with each minute of passing silence. 

Honey still doesn’t have an answer when they make it back to the mouth of the trailhead, parking lot visible. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers when Jamie comes to a stop, swinging his backpack around to his front and digging for Honey’s keys. 

He looks up at her through his lashes, pausing. Then, his lips pinch like he’s trying not to laugh. “Maybe you should,” he suggests.

Honey pauses, her brain feeling fried. “Yeah,” she agrees, the word forming slowly in her mouth. 

Jamie fishes the keys out and unlocks the car. He pulls his shirt out of the bag, then hesitates. “It would kill him if I drove us back to the house shirtless,” Jamie considers. He looks up at Honey, waiting.

Honey feels a smile start to take over her face. “Don’t fucking wear that shirt back.”

Jamie breaks out in laughter and opens the passenger door for Honey, helping her into her own vehicle. He rounds the car and starts it up, dropping a hand on Honey’s knee. He gives her joint a squeeze and flashes a dazzling smile. “He’s cooked.”

Honey laughs and rolls the window down, feeling the wind dance over her face as Jamie starts to drive down the mountain. 

When they pull into the driveway, the boys are skating along the patio. Cole’s trying to do a backwards one-legged glide, and keeps wobbling off the concrete. Jamie comes to a stop a good ten feet from the boys, leaning over Honey to open her door from the inside of the vehicle. As Honey steps out, he unbuckles and rounds the vehicle, pressing the keys into her hand. He wraps an arm around her neck in a hug and pulls her forehead to his lips, pecking it quickly. 

“Make sure you give me a wave on the way out,” Jamie conspires in a whisper, then pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Bring Bea.” He walks backwards away from her, pointing in farewell.

Honey goes to the driver’s side of the vehicle and climbs in. Quinn skates up next to the car, tapping for her to roll down the window. 

“What’s up?” She asks.

Quinn just nods for a few seconds before he answers, pressing his lips together. “Bring Bea tomorrow,” he repeats. 

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

“Tell her I found the stopwatch she wanted.”

Honey laughs aloud at that, looking over to Jack. Quinn’s follows her gaze and snickers. 

“Figures,” he says.

“Bye, Quinn,” Honey bids, and shifts the car into drive. 

He waves and skates away, and she inches forward. 

The rest of the boys part the driveway for her. Cole waves goodbye enthusiastically, and Jack, Luke, and Trevor just stand there. Honey looks back and finds Jamie, raising her hand with a smile. As she pulls away, her eyes slide over Trevor and she can’t hide the smug grin that overtakes her face at the sight of him.

He has no idea what’s coming.

21:90 – TREVOR

Trevor hasn’t talked to Jamie since before he left for his hike yesterday. He’s wallowing, admittedly, and the boys are getting a kick out of it. Trevor was consoled by the fact that no one else saw the body shot last night except Jack, but Jack had to preach his tale of triumph to the crowd. 

Over brunch, after walking Bea to the door– Quinn was waiting in the car to drive her home– Jack launched into a dramatic recreation of the event, using Cole as his mannequin. He didn’t do an actual shot, nor did he touch Cole’s body the way he did Bea’s. Cole even puckered up, pretending to hold a lime in his mouth, but Jack didn’t kiss him.

Cole feigned disappointment until Trevor laughed, then he just hopped off the counter and kept eating his food. 

After brunch, Cole and Luke filled Trevor and Jack in on what they missed after they disappeared upstairs the previous night: Cole learned how to juggle, Luke and Quinn watched a movie, and Jamie took Honey to bed when she cuddled up into Luke’s side and pushed her fingers through his hair, slurring about curl patterns.

“‘Righ’now you’re a 2C, but we can make your hair pretty like a 3B if y’use the right products an’ procedures,’” Cole mocked, making sure to slur his words and hiccup over the longer syllables. 

Trevor had tried not to smile at their caricature of Honey, but the thought of the girl slurring and falling over herself and still using words like ‘procedures’ made Trevor feel warm inside. 

Luke just blushed and shook his head at the mockery, grinning to himself and rubbing the back of his head. 

Shortly after, Quinn had joined them again and proposed that they skate around a bit. They weren’t playing road hockey or anything, so the skating became a game of driveway tag until Cole got mad that he couldn’t catch anyone and quit. He started trying to do figure-skating tricks instead, and the rest of the boys just hung out.

Trevor had felt fine until Jamie pulled up in Honey’s car, behind the wheel and shirtless. Honey had looked a little dazed and pink in the cheeks, but Trevor blamed it on the heat. Who hikes in this weather? 

He had bit his tongue when Jamie opened the door for Honey, leaning over her. He had clenched his jaw when Jamie gave Honey a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and scowled when Honey waved goodbye to Jamie, and only Jamie. Then, she had had the audacity to smirk at Trevor when she drove away.

So, suffice to say, Trevor wasn’t all that interested in what happened on the hike. He wasn’t excited that Jamie was in town anymore, he wasn’t in the mood to congratulate Jack on bagging Bea– although he did notice the smirk that Quinn tried to hide when Jack brought it up again, and he was not looking forward to the next time Honey and Bea hang out with them.

Which, apparently, is today.

Jamie had invited Honey over for a fun, lazy Sunday at the house and he had told her to bring Bea along. 

Quinn was the one who revealed the plan to Trevor when he came up to Trevor around noon and asked him very quietly if he would text Bea on Quinn’s behalf.

In the end, the message said “Quinn wants to know what time you’re coming over? He says he has your stopwatch. Also, GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER ALREADY SO I DON’T HAVE TO BE YOUR MESSENGER PIGEON!”

Bea texted him back within minutes and said: “Just got out of church u ratty bitch don’t tell me how to live my life” and “H and I are coming over at like 3 we need to debrief the Jack thing from last night first.”

“Why do you have to debrief? Was he bad”

“he wasn’t BAD”

“... He came early didn’t he”

“No comment. Leave me alone this is why I can’t give anyone else my number… bc you’re BLOWING UP MY DAMN PHONE!!!!!”

Trevor didn’t dignify Bea with a response then, but it’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon now, and the girls still haven’t shown up. Trevor is getting impatient and the other boys are getting antsy, tired of waiting for the girls to show. Cole has started pacing, mumbling about how they could’ve done something in the time they’ve spent waiting. He blames Trevor for it and bothers him until he puts down his book, which is still very good, and texts Bea again.

“Tick tock Bea”

Bea laughs at the message, but doesn’t give Trevor a real response until he asks if they want Quinn to cook dinner for them: “yes we’re leaving now”

Trevor passes the message along and Quinn adds two burgers to the grill. Trevor reopens his book and dives back into the world of astronomy. 

Quinn’s burgers are done and plated in fifteen minutes, ready for the boys to descend on the platter and assemble their burgers. 

The girls arrive just as Trevor sits at the dining room table with Luke and Cole. They wave into the dining room as they pass it and Trevor notices that Bea is still wearing her sundress from church, while Honey is wearing some red gingham shorts and a tiny little tank top. There’s a little sliver of her lower back showing as she walks away and Trevor swoons. 

He covers it up by biting into his burger and starting at one divot on the wooden table. 

Quinn joins them soon after and sits at the head of the table. He starts eating silently, ignoring the other boys. Bea and Jack walk into the room together and sit down at the only two seats next to each other that are left open– the one next to Quinn and the empty one next to it. 

Bea sits between the brothers and Trevor smirks into his burger, chewing the meat and eying the girl. She catches his gaze and glares at him, a deathly look that doesn’t bother Trevor in the slightest. Bea can’t do any harm to him– all of her looks are just empty threats. Maybe if Trevor were hooking up with her, he’d be a little more afraid, but that will never happen.

When Jamie and Honey enter the room, giggling quietly between the two of them, Bea turns Trevor’s smirk against him and sticks her tongue out before taking a sip of her water. 

Luck is on Trevor’s side, because the only two remaining chairs aren’t next to each other. There’s one on his left and one at the other head of the table between Luke and Cole. Jamie gestures for Honey to take her pick of the seats and, to Trevor’s disappointment, she walks toward the head of the table.

Jamie takes his seat next to Trevor and bumps into him good-naturedly, giving him a smile. Trevor side-eyes him and glares, taking another bite of his burger. 

They eat in silence for a little while, until Luke finishes his burger and throws his napkin atop his empty plate. 

“This is miserable,” Luke complains. “Can we do something?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing nothing all day and Trevor is getting on my nerves,” Cole agrees. 

Trevor places his burger on his plate and slams his hands down on the table. “Why me? I haven’t even done anything to annoy you.”

“You haven’t talked to me all day,” Jamie mumbles off-handedly, fixing the bun of his burger so it stops sliding away.

Honey coughs, then clears her throat. “You haven’t talked to Jamie all day?” She asks, frowning at Trevor.

Cole looks up to the ceiling and claps his hands together like he’s praying, his cheeks dimpling as he mouths a “thank you” towards the sky.

Trevor flashes a threatening finger at Cole and swallows the bite he’d been chewing. 

“No, I haven’t,” Trevor answers simply. He swallows again and intertwines his fingers, pushing his plate away. He lifts the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stay disinterested and annoyed, the same way he’s been feeling about Jamie since his hand found his way to Honey’s thigh on Friday night.

Honey’s lip curls and her nose crinkles, visibly ruffled. “What’s your problem?”

“Honey,” Bea interrupts, shaking her head with a pointed look. 

Jack throws his arm over the back of Bea’s chair. “No, I want to see this. Give it to him, Honey.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at Bea when Jack’s fingers brush her shoulder. Trevor notices his arm moving under the table, flexing like he’s reaching for Bea’s leg. Bea shrugs Jack off, pouting at Quinn. Quinn nods at the girl, then brings both his hands to his burger and lifts it to his mouth. He looks up at Honey, chewing. 

“Don’t jump in on this, Jack. It doesn’t involve you,” Honey snaps. “Quickshot.”

Cole’s jaw drops, then he claps both hands over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. 

“Oh, do you think this is funny?” Honey asks, rounding on Cole. “Do you really believe that your little honky ass is innocent? Should I bring up all the ways you’ve pissed me off these past few weeks?”

Cole freezes, paling.

Trevor knows that he’s only escaping Honey’s wrath temporarily, but it’s still a treat to see. Cole had been on Honey’s nerves since he thought up the whipped cream dare the week before, and Trevor is a little turned on seeing Honey gives Cole his comeuppance. 

“The only people in this house that haven’t pissed me off are Luke and Jamie, and you’re on thin fucking ice because you don’t talk to Jamie either,” Honey continues, pointing a finger at Luke.

He leans back, away from Honey’s finger, looking stunned. 

“Still feeling miserable, Luke?” Honey demands. “Or are things starting to look up for you?”

“Honey,” Bea repeats, harsher this time. She clears her throat, coughing loudly to mask the “enough” that slips from her lips.

Honey glares at Bea.

Now that’s a murderous look that Trevor never wants to receive.

Honey sits back in her chair and bites into her burger, chewing angrily as she places the burger back on her plate. She crosses her arms over her chest, then gestures at Trevor. 

“Jamie has spent more time trying to get to know me, and Bea, in the past two days than any of y’all have in three weeks,” Honey declares. 

Quinn opens his mouth to retort, but Honey holds a finger up to silence him and Bea rests a hand on his. He closes his mouth and goes back to his burger.

“Where am I from, Trevor?” Honey asks, calm and pointed. 

Trevor blinks, taken aback. “Here,” he replies, shrugging obviously. “You’re from Litchton. You’re a townie.”

“No. I’m not.” Honey merely states. She returns to her burger and eats it in silence.

Trevor stares at her, following her movements. His mouth is slightly open and his throat feels sort of dry. 

She’s right, Trevor thinks. I don’t actually know all that much about her.

Honey sneaks a peak at Jamie and smiles at him, then returns to her food.

Trevor pushes his plate even further away, not feeling hungry anymore. Luke grabs it and stacks his plate underneath Trevor’s, doing the same with Cole’s empty dish. He stands and takes their plates to the kitchen, scraping the leftover pieces into the trash and then starting to wash the dishes. 

“You know what we never did,” Bea says, breaking the silence and putting a positive spin on her words. She turns to Jack. “We never played Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“I could be down for Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Honey says, her voice a bit muffled as she tries to dig food out from between her teeth with her tongue.

“I’ll play too,” Jamie agrees, wiping his lips with a napkin and winking at Honey.

“That’s a really good idea,” Jack says, humming to himself. “I like how you think.”

Trevor doesn’t miss the way Bea glances at Quinn and holds a smile at bay. “Thanks, Jacky.”

Cole claps and stands, pushing his chair back. “I’ll get a bottle.”

“There’s an empty one downstairs,” Honey tells him. “We polished it off during the body shots.”

It’s like she’s trying to rile Trevor up on purpose. She’s sharing looks with Jamie, which makes Trevor want to act out to get her attention. She’s shooting retorts at each of the boys, which is making Trevor a little stiff in his shorts. She’s outspoken, finally coming out of her shell, and it’s affecting him.

But it’s also pissing him off because Trevor doesn’t enjoy being spoken to this way. He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s not doing as much as he could– the fact that he didn’t even know that Honey’s not originally from Litchton is a travesty. What’s next? She has a twin that he doesn’t know about?

And worse, Jamie is putting in the effort. He’s reaping the rewards, too, the rewards that Trevor should receive because he’s the one who flirted with Honey first. He knows that she’s attracted to him. He knows that she wants him. 

Trevor is fuming because she’s pushing her feelings away. Maybe she does think that Jamie is hot, but she’s throwing it back in Trevor’s face and flourishing it in a way that makes Trevor want to tear his hair out. She wanted Trevor first. Why is Jamie making it further than Trevor has? 

Why did Honey invite Jamie on a date instead of Trevor?

A date that Jamie didn’t even tell Trevor about. Trevor might not be talking to Jamie because he went on a date with Honey, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Jamie to tell him what happened on the date.

If he plays Seven Minutes in Heaven, there’s a 15% chance that he’ll get Honey alone, and then he can ask her. And he’ll have Honey alone for seven minutes. 

Trevor’s chubbing up at the thought of it.

“I’ll play,” Trevor adds, belated. Cole already has a foot out of the room and Honey is polishing off her burger. 

She flicks the crumbs off her fingers, in Trevor’s direction. “Joy,” she replies, sarcastic and biting. 

Trevor scowls when she smiles wide at Quinn and he returns the look.

Honey, Bea, Jack, and Quinn head downstairs to the basement to join Cole. Trevor and Jamie help Luke with the rest of the dishes. Luke grabs a beer from the fridge when they’re done and shuffles down the stairs himself, leaving Trevor and Jamie to grab the rest of the drinks.

They fill their arms and Jamie kicks the refrigerator door shut behind them. 

“Hey, man,” Jamie calls.

Trevor stops and turns to him at the top of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“You’ve gotta stop freezing me out. Honey hates it.”

Trevor grinds his teeth. “I don’t like how close you are with her.”

“Dude, I’m only here for a week. You have the whole summer. Me and Honey becoming friends is not the end of the world,” Jamie says, nodding at Trevor. He pushes past Trevor and descends into the basement, leaving Trevor to follow after him.

The crew rearranged the sitting area while the boys did the dishes upstairs. They pushed the coffee table up against the wall and moved the couches back so there’s plenty of room for everyone to sit on the floor. Jack and Cole are missing from the circle.

“Did you start without us?” Trevor asks.

Jamie passes drinks to Honey, Bea, and Quinn, sitting cross-legged in the circle next to Honey. 

Trevor takes the spot next to Luke, almost perfectly across from Honey. 

Bea nods. “Jack and Cole are in the closet.”

As if on cue, Jack storms out of the closet and Cole follows. 

“The whole thing about Seven Minutes in Heaven is that we have seven minutes to do whatever we want in the closet,” Cole carps, trailing just a step behind Jack. “I want to see if you manscaped before you hooked up with Bea!”

“I don’t want to show you my dick,” Jack retorts, plopping down in the circle and taking a beer from Trevor. He twists the cap off and takes a swig.

“Cole, if you spin and get me, I’ll tell you all about it,” Bea promises. “It’s not your turn, though. Jamie, go.”

“You’re so bossy, Bea,” Jamie teases. He spins the bottle in front of him and it nearly lands on the girl he just addressed, but it points to Quinn instead. Good-naturedly, Jamie continues. “Alright, Quinn. Let’s do this thing.”

“Go ahead and start that timer for me, sweet Bea,” Quinn murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek before shuffling to his feet. 

Bea glows a little at the contact and Trevor chortles when he sees the little necklace Bea’s wearing. It’s the same kind that Jim uses when he helps the boys train in Michigan. Trevor is not surprised that Quinn had an extra of the same kind lying around, one that he’s now giving to Bea. 

Honey watches the boys walk away, leaning back on one of her hands and taking a sip of her drink. “Do you think they’ll talk at all in there?” She asks, bottom lip still pressed against the mouth of the bottle in her hand.

“No way,” Cole jumps in. “They’re both so quiet.”

“I think they’ll both be very happy to sit in silence,” Bea agrees, sounding fond. “It’ll be a nice break for them.”

“Are you calling us annoying?” Jack teases, grinning at Bea.

“Well…” She trails off, coy.

“You, Cole, and Trevor at least,” Honey finishes, smiling so big that her tongue pokes between her teeth.

“Ha-ha,” Luke laughs, beaming a little.

Jack pouts.

Bea reaches out and pinches Luke’s cheek, which makes him blush and push her away. “Yeah, how could this sweet face be annoying?”

“Alright, cut it out,” Luke groans, but he’s still glowing at the compliment.

Seven minutes passes in a flash and before Trevor knows it, Jamie is putting his arm around Honey and pulling her into his side. She makes herself comfortable there and Trevor clenches his jaw, feeling like he could growl at the sight.

“Who wants to go next?” Jamie asks, looking around the circle.

“I’ll go,” Luke offers, reaching out to spin the bottle.

Mercifully, the neck of the bottle points at Honey and she has to pull away from Jamie. She stands and smooths out her shorts. They’re puffy and Honey can’t fix that, but Trevor loves that they reveal Honey’s long, smooth legs. He wishes that he were the only one in the room with her, selfishly, so that no one else would be able to get any ideas.

Jamie’s staring up at her too, biting his bottom lip and admiring the girl standing above him, and the only thing keeping Trevor from lunging at him is the fact that Luke is entering the closet with Honey instead of Jamie.

Honey holds her hand out for Luke to take. She pulls him to his feet and he stands, the inches he has on Honey seeming to dwarf her. 

“Jesus, you’re tall,” Honey notices, then leads Luke into the closet and shuts the door behind them. 

“Does Honey actually know anything about haircare?” Cole asks Bea, slighting the absent girl.

“She moonlights as a hairdresser,” Bea replies, playing along. “She used to cut my hair when we lived together.”

“You guys used to live together?” Trevor asks, genuinely curious. He can’t imagine that– Honey is independent and quiet, a lover of alone time. Bea is loud and cuddly and just as annoying as Cole, Jack, and Trevor are in her own eyes. 

On second thought, maybe they worked as roommates. Quinn is quiet and independent like Honey, but he’s taken with Bea. Even if she’s hooking up with other guys, it’s clear that she and Quinn have a special relationship.

“Yeah, we slept in the same bed for about a year,” Bea confirms, waving Jack off when his face brightens. “She hogs the covers.”

Bea reminisces for a couple of minutes about the year they spent in Honey’s house. Her stories are broken up by Jack and Cole’s probing questions. The timer goes off as she assures them that yes, she and Honey would make a beautiful pair, but neither of them are interested in each other like that. She calls for Honey and Luke and holds a finger to her lips when Jack goes to rag on the other girl, seeking more details.

“Quit,” Bea tells him. “Or I’m kicking you out of the game.”

Jack clamps his mouth shut and pouts, whining a little.

“I’m going next,” Bea decides, crawling forward to spin the bottle.

Trevor rolls his eyes, not seeing that Honey does the exact same when she sits down. Jack’s mouth quirks in a smirk as he eyes Bea’s chest, missing Quinn’s hand slide up the back of Bea’s thigh and rest just under the hemline of her dress.

Despite the scenarios that are no doubt running through both Hugheses’ minds, the bottle lands on neither of them. 

The mouth of the bottle stares at Cole, who lets a smile creep over his face. He stands and walks over to the closet, swinging the door open and holding it for Bea. “Ma’am,” he teases, sweeping an arm out to further emphasize the doorway.

“Loser,” Bea jibes, but she’s laughing when she hops up and pulls the hem of her dress a little lower. She curtsies when she makes it to Cole, then loops her hand over the collar of his shirt and pulls him into the closet, effectively closing the door behind them. 

Jack grumbles, eying the bottle in front of him. “I feel like that’s pointed more at me than it was at Cole,” he complains.

“Get a grip, dude,” Quinn says. “She’s sleeping with everyone, remember?”

Trevor and Luke laugh out loud, delighted in Quinn’s use of Jack’s own words against him.

Jack is stewing on the spot, clenching his fists and glaring at his older brother. Quinn is smirking and Luke reaches forward, pulling the bottle towards himself and out of the middle of the circle. Jack’s eyes flicker over to Luke, his gaze grim.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Jack reaches forward and snags Quinn’s shirt, whereas Quinn traps Jack in a headlock. They squabble and Honey scoots away from the two of them, burrowing into Jamie’s side. Trevor sees red when he wraps his arm around Honey’s waist and lifts her over his lap, setting her on his other side. Honey shrieks a little when she leaves the ground, her eyes wide with surprise when she stares up at Jamie.

Oh, he’s not special, Trevor could shout. I can do that easily!

“Do they do this often?” Honey asks when Luke reaches over and pulls his brothers apart. 

“They’re only allowed to fight if they haven’t gotten over their problem for three or more days,” Luke explains. “Mom didn’t want us to fight at all, but Dad said the forced hugs weren’t cutting it. This is only, like, the fourth time they’ve fought. The fight has a five-minute time limit.”

Quinn snickers, thumbing over his bottom lip and grinning devilishly at Jack. 

Jack is still grumbling, but his attention suddenly catches on the closet door. Bea is stumbling on her feet, holding a hand on the doorknob while her other is looped over Cole’s shoulders.

With all eyes on them, Cole just grins.

“We’re gonna go upstairs for a sec,” Bea says, a bit starry-eyed as she explains herself. Her cheeks are pink and one of her sleeves is slipping down, revealing her bra strap. 

No one speaks, but Cole sticks his tongue out at Jack and wiggles it. He tosses his head back with a laugh, then takes Bea’s hand and pulls her toward the stairs.

“We’ll be back!” Bea calls, allowing herself to be pulled up the stairs and out of sight.

For a moment, the air is still.

Then, Honey starts to giggle. She covers her mouth, but it does very little to muffle the endearing noises she’s omitting. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?” She asks Jack between laughs. “But you don’t see much coming, do you?”

“There’s a reason his nickname is The Cock,” Trevor adds, relishing in Jack’s annoyance. 

Honey’s eyes make their way to Trevor and she’s still giggling. Trevor shares a smile with her, then winks. The moment fades when she buries her face in Jamie’s shirt and Trevor remembers that they’re not the only two in the room.

“Are you calling me stupid?” Jack asks Honey, frowning.

Luke places the bottle back in the middle of the circle.

“No.” Honey shakes her head, blinking innocently at Trevor. “I would never call you stupid.”

Trevor’s breath seems to stop when Honey leans forward and spins the bottle. It spins quick, rattling on the ground before it comes to a stop. 

Honey frowns. “Well, that’s no fun,” she complains. “I don’t want to go in the closet alone.”

Jamie rubs her back. “Spin it again, who gives a shit?” He asks, looking around the circle. “Do any of you care if Honey gets another turn?”

“Why, you hoping it points at you?” Trevor hears himself reply, reaching up to itch his nose. He drops his hand back to his lap and tilts his head at Jamie.

“I should be so lucky,” Jamie replies easily, laying his head atop Honey’s for a moment. “She’s excellent company.”

There’s something about the way he says it. Trevor furrows his eyebrows, looking between Honey and the dark-haired boy. They’re too comfortable together. In an instant, it all clicks. Something happened between them on the hike yesterday.

Honey is already reaching forward to spin the bottle again, but Trevor’s gaze is fixed on Jamie’s. 

The look in Jamie’s eyes is pure arrogance. He’s bragging without saying a word and Trevor can practically hear Jamie’s voice in his head. I know something you don’t.

“Trevor.”

Honey’s soft voice snaps him out of it and her sweet smile causes all his suspicion and anger to fade away. Honey nods toward the bottle.

It’s pointed squarely at Trevor. There’s no question about it. The bottle doesn’t even consider Jack or Luke on either of Trevor’s sides– and Trevor mentally thanks whatever divine being controlled the spin of the bottle.

“This is gonna be funny,” Jack mutters to Jamie, who is now sitting next to him in Cole’s absence. “They’ve been beefing for weeks.”

“Yeah, we hate each other,” Honey agrees, climbing to her feet. “We’re going to pull a Hughes and scuffle for seven minutes.”

“Let us know who wins,” Quinn chirps, grabbing Honey’s hand as she passes him. He tugs her down and she bends at the waist, putting her ear next to his mouth. Trevor climbs to his own feet and catches the word “ankle” as it leaves Quinn’s lips.

Trevor shakes his head, smiling to himself. Honey’s a firecracker, sure, but she’d never actually beat him up.

He pauses, approaching the closet door. Wait.

Maybe she would.

Trevor looks at Honey and finds only sweetness in her eyes. He watches as she casts a look back at Jamie, then taking in the nod from the boy. 

And wouldn’t you know it, he’s mad again. Trevor enters the closet regardless, already feeling a little claustrophobic.

Honey closes the door behind them and plunges them into darkness.

It takes a minute for Trevor’s eyes to adjust. He blinks a few times, then Honey’s figure comes into view. She’s leaning against the back of the door, her arms crossed, and her head is tilted to the side. 

“Are you thinking about the best way to take me down?” Trevor asks. “You look like there’s something on your mind.”

“I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with you,” Honey replies. “You’re being so mean to Jamie. He misses you.”

“I’m not being mean to him,” Trevor argues.

“But you’re not talking to him, either,” Honey says. “He said you asked for him to be here, but now that he’s here, you’re acting like Jack.”

Trevor feels a flash of guilt run through his system and he slouches a bit. She’s right– he hasn’t really protected Jamie from Jack’s ire, but things didn’t seem so bad. Jamie is still hanging out with them. He’s just a quiet guy. He doesn’t really speak unless spoken to, and Trevor is normally the one who speaks to him, but he’s been so mad about Jamie and Honey. Trevor rubs his arm, feeling goosebumps prickle over his skin. 

“Why are you treating him like this?” Honey asks.

Because of you.

Trevor’s mouth opens immediately like he wants to tell his thought to Honey, but he knows it’s not a good enough explanation for the girl. She’ll resent it, even, that Trevor is treating his best friend poorly because of her.

“He got to touch you,” Trevor says.

Honey makes a face and a disapproving noise.

“He got to touch you the way I want to,” Trevor tries again. “He got to spend time alone with you.”

“Oh,” Honey breathes out, straightening up from the door. 

“Honey, I want that.” Trevor steps forward. He searches her face for discomfort, any sign that he’s going too far. “If you really want Jamie,” he says, forcing his words out. His throat feels like it’s closing up. “Then I want you to have him. I would be a bad friend if I got between you and him. Honey, I just–”

Trevor cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He looks down and runs his fingers through his hair, grinding his teeth.

“You what?” Honey asks, so quiet that Trevor can barely hear her. Her eyebrows are curved in concern and there’s dislike tugging at the corner of her lips. 

Trevor’s hands fall helplessly to his sides. He wishes he could touch Honey, that he could intertwine their fingers to ground himself.

“I thought you wanted me,” Trevor mutters, feeling his cheeks turn red at the admission. He cringes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I thought you lied the other day and that you were just holding back, but now you’re all close with Jamie and I guess I was wrong. I was wrong to assume there was something between us.”

“Trevor,” Honey laments. His eyes shoot open when the pads of her fingers come into contact with his hand and he’s surprised by how close she is. She looks sad, so sad, and Trevor mistakes her look for pity.

“I’m sorry about… all this,” Trevor says, looking away from Honey. He can’t meet her eyes like this. 

“Don’t be,” Honey says. She runs her thumb over his and the movement makes Trevor shiver. 

He pulls away. “But I was wrong, and more wrong to act the way I’ve been acting.” Trevor looks up to the ceiling, biting his tongue in hopes that the sharp pain will distract him from how foolish he feels.

Honey’s hands find him again, curving over his waist. They’re warm as they run down towards his hips and it makes Trevor squirm.

“You weren’t wrong,” Honey whispers. She shakes her head. 

Trevor’s eyes snap to hers. 

“You weren’t wrong,” She repeats now that she has his attention. 

Trevor feels her hands move again, her fingers inching into his waistband just like they did over a week ago. They’re just as delicate and careful, the pressure light enough that Trevor wants to beg her for more, but his voice is caught in his chest. He looks down, losing his breath at the sight of her fingers hooking over his shorts, tugging at them.

Honey drops to her knees effortlessly and Trevor gasps like he’s been shocked by an AED. 

Maybe he is being shocked by an AED. Maybe he died and they’re trying to bring him back to life. 

Honey tugs at Trevor’s shorts, inching them lower. 

He’s motionless, absolutely powerless when it comes to Honey. He can’t move. He’s frozen in place.

“What are you doing?” Trevor chokes out. One of his hands finds the shelf of board games next to him, scrambling for something to ground himself.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Honey says. She blinks up at Trevor through her eyelashes.

Trevor can see down her tank top. The space between her tits is like a void and Trevor is tumbling deeper and deeper into it. There’s no saving him. He might permanently warp the wood of the shelf with how hard he’s gripping it.

“You–” Trevor’s voice is high. He coughs. “I–”

“Have you thought about it?” Honey asks, tilting her head and licking her lips. “Did you think about this after Cole’s dare?”

Trevor can only nod. He didn’t think about this, but he thought about Honey. He dreamt about her. He yearned to feel her hands on him again, her tongue on his skin or in his mouth, but he never thought it would go down like this.

“We should thank him, really,” Honey says like an afterthought, her eyes raking down Trevor’s body until they fix on the tent in his shorts. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this that night.”

She leans closer, brushing her lips in an almost non-existent kiss over the front of Trevor’s shorts.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Honey continues. One of her hands inches toward Trevor’s bulge and he lets out an involuntary whimper, biting hard on his lower lip. Honey looks up at Trevor again and he wishes the lights were on so he could see her better. Her eyes are bright in the darkness, shining with desire, and Trevor might die. “Are you going to let me blow you, Trevor?”

Trevor keens, nodding. “Yes,” he gasps out. 

A smile creeps onto Honey’s face and she stares up at him for a second. She almost looks evil, drinking him in like a succubus.

But then her attention turns back to Trevor’s cock, so hard that he’s leaking from the tip and certainly moistening the fabric of his underwear. Honey drags his shorts down to his ankles, capturing the head of his cock in her mouth as soon as she frees him from the confines of his clothes.

Trevor groans, his mouth dropping open at the feeling of Honey’s warm, wet mouth closing around him. He almost weeps when she pulls away.

“You have to be quiet, Trevor,” Honey chastises. “The boys are just on the other side of the door.”

Trevor nods helplessly, unable to deny Honey. He wants this so bad. He’s needed her since the second he bumped into her at the fruit stand, scrolling on his phone and not paying attention. He’d do anything for her to take his cock in her mouth again.

Her hand finds his base, squeezing his shaft and pumping it in an easy rhythm. She traces the head of his cock over her bottom lip, rubbing it back and forth, and a little precum blurts out of his slit. She spreads the precum along her lips like a coat of lipgloss, then Honey’s tongue pokes out and licks the salty liquid away, closing her eyes and moaning lowly at the taste.

Trevor’s knees shake a little. If he wasn’t holding himself up, he’d collapse right on top of her.

“Tastes good,” Honey murmurs. For a second, Trevor feels like he’s impeding, like he wasn’t supposed to hear that, like he’s not supposed to be here– because this can’t be real.

All of those feelings fade away when Honey takes him in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in. Trevor’s other hand lurches forward like a marionette and he gathers Honey’s hair into a makeshift ponytail. He needs to see her face. He needs to see her eyes.

As if Honey knows what he’s thinking, her irises find his face. Trevor is stunned by how blown out her pupils are. They’re dark and wide and swirling with lust. Trevor loses himself, feeling his hips stutter forward.

Honey takes as much of him as she can, gagging on the length in her throat. Her gag squeezes Trevor and he whimpers, pulling on her hair. He’s close, he’s so close even though it’s been only a minute or two since Honey attached herself to his cock.

“Honey, fuck, I’m going to come,” Trevor whines, struggling to stay still and let her control the pace.

Honey pulls off, a line of saliva tying her mouth to Trevor’s dripping length. It breaks as she continues to pump him, thumbing over the tip of his cock. “Isn’t that the point?” She asks. She plants a chaste kiss over his slit, kitten-licking the opening with little flicks of the tip of her tongue.

Trevor groans, trying to keep his voice low like she wanted, but he’s not doing the best job. He brings his hand to his mouth and bites his knuckle, just as Honey lowers her head back down. She bobs on his length, sucking harshly and swirling her tongue in all the right ways to make Trevor unravel. As she lays her other hand on Trevor’s thigh, Trevor loses his breath. He pitches forward, shaking underneath her touch as he comes. Her thumb on his thigh is his anchor, keeping him from passing away then and there.

Marvelously, just when Trevor thinks that things can’t get any better, Honey swallows his come like she’d been starving. 

Trevor is speechless, unable to look away from Honey. He’s never come like that before, never been so completely overtaken by an orgasm that he can’t speak. 

Honey smirks and licks her lips, wiping her thumb on the sides of her mouth to clean up any stray fluids.

Trevor’s eyes are fixed on her mouth, her beautiful, beautiful mouth.

He sinks to his knees like he’s melting and plants his hands on her body, one on her waist and one cupping her jaw. He kisses her with everything he has, licking into her mouth and tasting himself until he’s breathless and lightheaded and has to pull away. Stars dance across his vision, framing Honey’s face. 

She’s dazzling. Trevor can barely remember that there was a time when he didn’t know she existed. He can’t imagine a time after her. He’s stuck in the current moment, where Honey is absolutely everything, and he leans in to kiss her again.

Honey presses a hand to his mouth, keeping him in place. 

Trevor’s lips are pursed in a kiss against her fingers and he frowns. 

“You need to pull your pants up before they open the door,” Honey tells him.

It’s like whiplash. Trevor feels slapped across the face by how quickly she recovered after that blowjob. He’s still moving slowly, like he’s not in control of all of his muscles because they’re so relaxed, but Honey is making her way to her feet. 

Trevor scrambles to meet her, rising to his normal height and bringing his bottoms with him. He tucks himself away and straightens his clothing. He watches Honey flick her hair out of her face and pull the strap of her tank top back into place. Trevor follows her hand, daring to look a little lower. He nearly drools at the sight of Honey’s hard nipples poking against the fabric of her top. 

Honey snaps her fingers in front of Trevor’s face. He’s dazed, but meets her eyes.

“This never happened,” Honey tells him, voice hard. She tilts her head down, prompting Trevor. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Trevor nods, feeling far away. Whatever Honey wants.

“Trevor,” Honey groans, reaching up to fix his hair. “I’m serious. You can’t tell the boys.”

“I won’t,” Trevor agrees, leaning into her touch. He’ll do anything Honey asks, just as long as he gets to kiss her again. He’d chop his hand off right now if that’s what she wanted, just so he could get another taste of her sweetness. He stares at her lips, truly stares, leaning forward again. He’s a breath away from her mouth when she pulls back, stepping away.

Trevor actually whines like a child at the loss of her. His hands feel empty without her skin underneath his palms and he’s running cold as her warmth steps away.

Honey shows him a little mercy with a slight smile and a breath of a laugh. “Pull yourself together, Trevor,” she says, a playful lilt in her tone. “You’re a mess.”

Jamie calls for Honey on the other side of the door and she opens it, the light stunning Trevor. It snaps him back into reality and the gravity of the situation dawns on him as he takes in the fluorescent light. He just came down Honey’s throat in a dark closet and kissed her so hard that his lips might be bruised and swollen. 

Then he agreed not to tell anyone, because he was so drunk on Honey that he lost control of himself.

Honey’s fine, seamlessly fitting back into the group and telling Quinn that she was the obvious winner of her and Trevor’s scuffle. She doesn’t give Trevor a second look.

He’s so fucked.