#i started with anons i’ll end it with anons it’s like poetic

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 19 - 25 (+ epilogue)

hey! whoever thought this day would come! before the chapter, i just wanted to say some thank yous to you all. i am so grateful to each person who has read this series! it was such an undertaking, being over 300K and all, but we did it! we're at the end! i would not have been able to do this without y'all's support and love for characters like honey, bea, the litchton townies, and our boys (who kind of took on a life of their own throughout this story). i want to give a special shoutout to the person who first submitted this idea of tz going feral for a small town girl. you started something that has literally changed my life– before this, i had never completed a book. i would always get bored towards the end and let it die. but now, we've finished it! i'll also give a special shoutout to all the people who helped me out while reading this– looking at pics on pinterest, reading the rough drafts, even just talking about it with me... your influence helped me immensely. i will specifically mention two: cappy and mattias anon, who have left comment after comment and put up with my texts that make everything about stg. they are the real troopers.

i will not wax any more poetics. here it is: the final chapter (+ epilogue) of stg!

85:90 – TREVOR

“Trevvy, baby,” Honey whispers. She traces his nose with a featherlight touch until Trevor wakes. She’s laying in bed next to him, wearing the t-shirt Bea made of him, and Trevor turns into her chest.

It’s so warm there. Trevor groans as the soreness from yesterday seeps back into his bones. He didn’t know that farming would be so much hard work. He’s more sore than he was after his first NTDP practice, which is saying something. 

“I can’t believe I thought I’d be a construction worker if I wasn’t in hockey,” Trevor complains into the space between Honey’s boobs.

She hums and cards her fingers through his hair, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “I know, baby. You���re built to play hockey and be pretty, not carry heavy things and use your hands.”

Trevor frowns. “I’m okay at using my hands,” he whines. She loves to insult him, even though she’s been known to fall apart on his fingers. He pushes his fingers past Honey’s waistband and goes to prove his point.

“Trevor, we don’t have time,” Honey chastises. 

“Honey,” Trevor patronizes. “We’re not even doing anything today. All we have to do is go to the fruit stand. We have time for me to finger you.”

“You slept ‘til lunch,” Honey says. “I want to get up, I’ve been so bored.”

“I’ll fix it,” Trevor tells her. He kisses her chest, then realizes that he’s kissing the picture of himself on her chest, and pulls back. He picks himself up and moves.

“You just realize that you kissed yourself?” Honey asks.

Trevor looks at her out of the side of his eyes before laying a kiss on the curve of her jaw. “Don’t be mean,” he says.

“Just teasing you, needy boy,” Honey replies. 

She rolls onto her back as Trevor pushes her into the mattress and traps her. His kisses become more consistent, landing in time with her pulse. Trevor won’t even pretend like he’s not the needy boy she claims. “We’ve only got a week, Honey,” Trevor says. “Not even. I wanna fuck you every day to make up for all the time I’ll be away.”

Honey sighs. “Don’t remind me, T.”

“‘ll make you forget,” Trevor mumbles, biting into Honey’s neck and lathing his tongue over the smooth skin. 

“Make me lunch after, too?” Honey asks.

“Mhm,” Trevor agrees. He snaps the band of Honey’s shorts against her hip. “I hate these shorts. We should burn them.”

Honey frowns and wiggles underneath Trevor. “I love them. They’re my favorite.”

“They’re Thomas’ old boxers,” Trevor replies. He pushes them down Honey’s legs, baring her lower half. Once the boxers are around her ankles, Trevor removes them and tosses them far, far away. “Don’t think I didn’t pick that up when you told me they belonged to an old boyfriend. You’ve only had one other than me and I hate him.”

“They’re comfortable and they’re barely even his,” Honey fights back. “I’ve had them for six years. They were brand new when I borrowed them.”

“‘Borrowed,’” Trevor parrots back. “Forever?”

“A fitting price to pay,” Honey says. “You jealous I’m wearing another man’s boxers?”

“Yes,” Trevor admits earnestly. “I want you to wear my boxers to sleep.”

“What will you wear?”

“Nothing.”

Honey snorts. “Lucky me.”

Trevor circles her clit with the pads of his fingers, moving methodically. He breathes in deep, nose nestled in Honey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Honey sighs lightly, humming out a thanks. She lifts her leg and wraps it over Trevor’s hip.

He replaces his fingertips with his thumb and continues circling, swiping the pad of his middle finger through her slick. Her chest rises and falls against his and Honey’s arms circle Trevor’s shoulders. He smiles into her skin and changes the angle of his hand. The heel of his palm covers her swollen bundle of nerves and his first knuckle disappears into her core, suddenly surrounded by warmth and her tight walls.

The sun is shining into Honey’s room, which casts a nice light on her body. Trevor just wishes that she wasn’t wearing a shirt with his face on it. His t-shirt self is staring at him and it’s making him uncomfortable. 

“You need to take your shirt off,” Trevor says.

“No,” Honey drawls. “So unfair. You already told me to take my shorts off because you didn’t like those. You can’t make me take my shirt off because you don’t like it either. Plus, you said that you’d be the naked one, not me.”

“We should both be naked.”

“We can both get naked after you make me come,” Honey bargains. She nudges Trevor’s chin and kisses his lips when he lifts his face. She pecks again and grins. “I’ll spit in your mouth, if you want.”

Trevor flinches back, shocked to his core. “What?” he demands. 

Honey cackles, throwing her head back into the pillow. “Gotcha. You really fell for that.”

“Fuck off,” Trevor groans. “I didn’t know you were that kinky, Honey.” He fits his finger all the way inside of her and curls it, tickling the gummy walls that squeeze him so well.

She clicks her tongue. “There are a lot of things I like that you don’t know about.”

That piques Trevor’s interest. “Tell me,” he says. 

“Not today,” Honey laughs. “I’ve got to keep some secrets to keep you on your toes.”

Trevor whines. “Not fair.”

“I’m thinking I’ll reveal them to you when you’re all the way in Anaheim and I’m still here,” Honey continues. Her hands run down Trevor’s back, then back up his spine. 

He shivers and brings his ring finger to her entrance, taking his time as he fucks into her hole. The two digits flex and twist inside of her, trying to coax the secrets from her mouth now rather than later. 

“That way you’ll get so frustrated over not being able to touch me,” Honey says. “And you’ll regret being so far away, won’t you?”

“When I play in Raleigh, I am going to keep you up all night,” Trevor threatens in a low voice.

“That’s assuming I come,” Honey tells him.

That’s what she said. Trevor lifts his head and eyes his girlfriend.

She hits his shoulder. “Do not fucking say that’s what she said right now, I know you want to.”

Trevor chuckles and lazily connects his lips with Honey’s instead. His fingers scissor inside of her, stretching her entrance until he can push a third past the rim. 

They make out as the minutes tick by. Honey isn’t as concerned with being “late” anymore, it seems. Trevor was right; they’re not doing anything today. He doesn’t know what she was talking about– the fruit stand will be open until the sun goes down. 

Joan told him all about her schedule while they worked on the farm yesterday. She sets up the stand when the store opens at 7, then she packs up once the sun sets. It’s a long day for her, but she gets her best sales on Mondays because of the stand, so she doesn’t mind. Plus, she gets to catch up with people in town and lounge, reading books or completing sudokus while her husband continues to work at the farm. It’s practically a day off work, in Joan’s eyes.

She truly put Trevor to work. He was there for about three hours, picking blackberries and grapes off the vines, lugging cantaloupes from their place resting against the ground to the back of Joan’s wagon that she’d offered to Trevor. He plucked limes, lemons, and peaches from their respective trees. He refused to touch the strawberry plants, lest he saw Honey last night, so Joan had worked on that section of the farm. She’d also picked pears. 

It was nice to hang out on the farm and get to know the lady. She tried to give him some money for his work, but Trevor had waved her off. She’d let him and Earl take that ugly couch from her back porch for free. It was a fair trade. 

Now, the couch sits above Earl’s garage. He’d been surprisingly nimble and strong for an old man. Trevor had gotten winded walking up the stairs before Earl did, but he was on the back end of the couch, so most of the weight was on him anyway. Gravity, and all that. Trevor refuses to be beaten by an old man. 

When he’d complained about being winded while Earl was breathing evenly, Honey had laughed and scratched his back. She told him not to worry, that Earl had lots of experience with manual labor– forty years of it at least– and Trevor shouldn’t feel put out that he was more out of shape than an elderly man. He realized only after that Honey didn’t know why he was hanging out with Earl, but she didn’t ask. If she had, he would’ve told her that he was helping at the hardware store. The lie probably wouldn’t have been believable. Trevor doesn’t even know if the hardware store is open on the weekends– it probably isn’t. Nothing is.

His bicep aches a bit as his fingers work inside of Honey. Her tongue is dainty as it licks into Trevor’s mouth, then retreats, teasing him. He’s still sore, but he’s determined to make Honey come on his fingers. Her hips have started moving against his palm, grinding on his fingers. Trevor lets her.

“Look at you, taking what you need,” Trevor says. He bites his bottom lip and rakes his eyes over Honey’s figure. She’s still in his shirt, so he can’t see the flesh on her chest, but he can see the way her tits heave under the fabric. He can see the way her nipples protrude and rub against the cotton. His eyes land on her neck, watching the column flex and bob as she gasps and speeds up, frantically fucking herself on his fingers. 

A spark passes behind Trevor’s eyes. 

She likes it when I touch her there, Trevor remembers. He hasn’t touched Honey’s neck while they were fucking… ever? Has he? No specific moments come to mind.

She might want to withhold her kinks from him until he’s far away, too far away to touch her– which he knows she’s doing so that she can hear him whine and lament being so far away, because she wants to hear him ramble on about missing her– but Trevor knows this one. 

His fingers squeeze Honey’s waist, pressing into the soft skin before leaving it. His hand traces up her front sensually. Finally, Trevor curls his fingers around her throat. 

Honey’s resulting hum is high-pitched, but confused. Her eyelids lift in a flash, pupils fixing on Trevor’s face, and he would be concerned if not for the frenzied movement that is starting to send an ache through his wrist. 

“I know you like that,” Trevor whispers. He noses Honey’s cheek. “I remember the sound you made when I first kissed you and put my hand right here.” He moves his entire hand quickly, like a pinch, squeezing Honey’s neck for a second then letting go. “I bet you like getting all breathless, huh?”

Honey takes a huge breath in through her nose, head rolling back and revealing all of her throat to Trevor.

A smile crosses his face. “That’s my girl,” Trevor coos. “Come, baby.” He tightens his grip for a few seconds longer, watching Honey tremble. “Come all over my fingers and then we can start our day.”

“Tighter,” Honey breathes out. “Not for too long.”

“Okay,” Trevor agrees, his voice practically inaudible. He obeys, his fingertips curling into her windpipe. The rush of accomplishment doesn’t pass through Trevor because he completes the action of choking Honey, but rather because of the way she relaxes into the touch and lets it happen. Her eyes close again and her face is impassive and serene, mouth open in a quiet moan. That is a huge win for Trevor. When she bears down on his fingers and they overlap each other uncomfortably, Trevor feels the same rush he gets after he scores an OT goal. Honey probably wouldn’t appreciate a celly from him after she finishes coming, but the instinct is there. Trevor loosens his grip on her neck and lets her go, kissing the places where his fingertips were.

Honey snuggles into his side when he draws his fingers, covered in her come, out of her body. The moment is nice and comfortable, but only for a second before Trevor wipes his fingers on his own face adorning her shirt.

“Trevor,” Honey scoffs, rolling away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. She holds the hem of her shirt away from her body and looks down at it. “You ruined your pretty face, Princess Diana.”

“I think you like that shirt more than you like me,” Trevor tells her.

“Hmm, probably.” Honey stands and walks to her laundry hamper, pulling the shirt over her head like she’s unwrapping a present.

Trevor faux-gasps. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Trevor, I love you so much more.’”

“And you are supposed to refrain from wiping cum on my clothes.” Honey plants her hands on her hips. 

Trevor makes himself comfortable on the bed and lays a hand on his stomach, the other cradling the back of his head. He licks his lips. She’s nakey.

Honey rolls her eyes. “This is the problem with you wanting me to be naked all the time,” she scolds. “We will never get anything done.”

“We could get a few things done, I bet,” Trevor replies, snickering when he says it.

Honey doesn’t even crack a smile. She’s back to business. “Would you put some big boy clothes on and wash your hands while I shower?” she asks. “Then you can make me that lunch that you promised.”

Trevor pouts, his bottom lip jutting out as far as he can push it. 

Honey shakes her head fondly and turns away, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her. 

Trevor lounges in bed for an extra two minutes before swinging his legs forward and getting up. He dresses himself in some short Ducks-branded shorts and a plain black t-shirt. Instead of barging into Honey’s bathroom and and washing his hands there– after peeking behind her shower curtain, of course– Trevor goes downstairs and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. It’s then that he opens her fridge and surveys the options there. There’s plenty for him to cook with, but he’s not confident he’ll prepare any of it particularly well. He’s been known to burn things. Jamie used to get on him about that all the time when they lived together. It’s actually why they climbed onto the roof to eat dinner the first time, so that they could escape the burning smell in the kitchen from Trevor’s charred chicken dinner.

He settles on quesadillas. Honey has chicken that he can throw in a tortilla with cheese, plus some peppers that he can cut up and throw in the saucepan if she doesn’t want to eat them raw. It’ll be a nice meal. 

Trevor burns the first quesadilla. It isn’t a surprise. He’ll eat that one. Honestly, Trevor doesn’t mind the burnt food. He’s gotten used to eating overcooked food.

Honey leaves the shower as he’s finishing up her quesadilla and throwing it on a plate. She comes downstairs and hugs him, standing behind him and gliding her hands underneath his shirt to touch his stomach. 

“Do you want me to sauté these peppers?” Trevor asks.

Honey raises her head and pops up on her tiptoes, looking over his shoulder at the pile of sliced peppers on a plate. “No,” she decides. She pecks the back of Trevor’s neck. “I’ll get some ranch.”

Trevor automatically feels colder when she removes herself from his personal space to grab a half-used bottle of ranch from her fridge. He moves each plate to Honey’s coffee table, taking two trips so he doesn’t accidentally drop any food on the floor. 

Honey sits on the couch, pulling a blanket around her shoulders and crossing her legs. Trevor sits next to her and they start to eat their lunch together. Honey doesn’t have a TV in her living room– come to think of it, Trevor doesn’t think she has a TV at all. He’s never watched television in this house. Anyway– if Honey did have a TV, he’d put something on in the background. Instead, he listens to the rustle of the wind in the trees and the chirping of the birds.

You can’t hear the traffic from Honey’s house. You can’t even hear her neighbors, not that there are any close enough to walk over and ask for a cup of sugar. They’d have to drive. 

“Do you like being alone?” Trevor asks. The question is blunt as it falls from his mouth and Trevor realizes that it sounds rude. He doesn’t mean to say it like that and goes to apologize.

Honey shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. 

“Why?” He’s surprised she didn’t give him a second look for how his first question came out, so Trevor makes a concentrated effort to make this one sound more curious.

She waves a green pepper slice in the air. “It’s nice. I’m not really, like, alone. You know that. I’ve got my friends from Litchton, I’ve got Bea, I’ve got myself, I’m good.”

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Trevor says.

“Being alone?” Honey clarifies. “Hm. I think you could. You just haven’t had the experience with it. I struggled a lot my first few months in Litchton. So did Bea. We were used to a huge city. Charlotte has almost a million people and Litchton has two thousand. Until I moved here, I’d never been in a community that small. Even Myers Park had… 3,500 kids, I think.”

“Myers Park?”

“My high school.” Honey pops the rest of the pepper in her mouth and chews after dipping it in ranch. “I think you’re just used to a big city, babe. It’s, what, 25 miles from Anaheim to LA?”

“Yeah, close enough,” Trevor replies. “26.”

Honey glares at him for a moment. “‘Close enough,’” she mocks. “I was right on the money. Anyway, LA has millions of people and so many things to do. You’re used to that. I think you adapted well to living in Litchton this summer, but you also had six friends here. If it had just been you and– who’s your Bea?”

Trevor shrugs. “Jack, probably. We’re not as close as you two, but he and I are probably the closest.”

Honey laughs. “Okay, imagine you and Jack move to Litchton, just you two. I’m not even here. It’s just you and Jack.” She picks up another pepper. “What do you do?”

“I kill myself within a week,” Trevor deadpans. 

Honey squints at him, pursing her lips judgmentally.

Trevor leans into her space, draping himself over her lap. “I’m kidding,” he tells her. “But I still don’t know if I’d be able to do it.”

Honey brushes his hair out with her fingers. “I guess not. You’re too extroverted. My LA boy.”

“You still hate that I live in California?” Trevor teases.

Honey hums, affirming that she does while she nods. 

“I’ll convince you to like it when you visit.”

“If I visit,” Honey replies. “The hatred for Cali runs deep in my bones, Trevor.”

Trevor rolls his eyes and sits up again, polishing off the rest of his quesadilla. He always eats faster than Honey does. “Are we going to the fruit stand now?”

“Yurr,” Honey confirms. She holds up her quesadilla. “Can I take this in your car?”

Trevor nods. He goes upstairs to grab his keys, wallet, and Honey’s bag. While he was gone, Honey had moved all of their dishes to the sink. 

“I’ll do them later,” she tells Trevor when she joins him by the door.

The drive into town is quiet. Trevor’s hair is getting too long. Honey likes when the windows are down, so they’re down, but the wind is whipping his hair into his face and distracting Trevor from the road. He needs to schedule a hair appointment when he goes back to Bedford to hang out with his family before preseason starts.

They walk hand in hand to the fruit stand. There’s some commotion near the church, which is just visible from the grocery store, and Trevor watches the scene from the corner of his eye. There is a large group of people mingling at the steps of the front entrance– the entrance that Bea never uses, since the parking lot is behind the church, so they just enter through the back door. The front of the church is much more regal than the back. Picturesque.

Honey shops around, handing Trevor piece of fruit after piece of fruit. He bags them all, until the strap over his shoulder is heavy and the mesh fabric is bursting. Trevor tells Honey that they can’t fit anymore, which she frowns at, but concedes. She gives one last longing look at the blackberry cartons before they go to pay Joan.

Joan makes small talk with the duo, telling Honey about how hard Trevor worked the previous day and how helpful it was. 

“I wish I could bring him on every week,” Joan says. “Normally, my husband helps me, but he was able to start prepping the fields for our winter vegetables. We’re seeding tomorrow.”

“It’s a shame he had the idea so late in the summer,” Honey replies.

“I’m sore as can be, Joan,” Trevor complains. “I don’t know if I could do it every week.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel on Sunday. Would you like to come help me out again? I’d appreciate it.” Joan has a soft smile on her face while she waits for Trevor to respond. He almost feels bad, but there’s no reason for him to. He can’t help that his time is up and he has to decline.

“We’re actually headed out this Saturday,” Trevor says. “So this is the last time you’ll see me for a while.”

Joan’s smile fades. “Well, isn’t that a shame. We’ve enjoyed having you in Litchton this summer, Trevor.”

Trevor’s heart thumps. That’s so nice– Joan expressing that the people in Litchton have accepted him as one of their own and liked having him here. “I’ll be back when I can.”

“No one who comes to Litchton can go very far for very long,” Joan confirms. “I tried when I was y’all’s age, but we all come back eventually.”

“Mr. California,” Honey adds jokingly.

Trevor’s retort disappears when he’s distracted by a cheer near the church. He turns his head, as do the other two, and they watch as a bride and groom burst through the door. The crowd raises their hands and whoops as they descend the steps and the groom dips his bride, kissing her.

Joan chuckles. “The new Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt Hensley,” she says. “Aren’t they just darlin’? Lila’s dress is gorgeous.”

“I didn’t know their wedding was on a Monday,” Honey says. “I guess that makes sense. Didn’t Wyatt’s parents have to come from Texas?”

“Oklahoma,” Joan corrects.

Trevor is still watching the happy couple. The woman looks like Honey. Well, they have the same hair.

“So close,” Honey sighs. “I’m always one off today. Alright– I’ll see you next week, Joan.” She bumps Trevor’s arm. “You gonna say goodbye?”

“We should do that,” Trevor tells her, staring as Wyatt and Lila parade through the group of people towards a car parked on the street.

Honey follows his gaze. “Do what?” she asks.

“Get married,” Trevor explains. The silence that follows is jarring. He turns to Honey to find her staring at him, expression nothing short of aghast. “What?”

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Say goodbye to Joan, baby.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor says. He looks at Joan and holds his hand out for her to shake. “It was nice to meet you, Joan. Thank you for all the fruit all summer.”

“Thank you for all of the entertainment,” Joan replies. “I’m disappointed I won’t see how this conversation plays out. Have a safe trip home, Trevor.”

“Bye, Joan.” He moves Honey’s bag to his other shoulder and takes her hand. They start to walk toward the car. “So that’s a no to getting married?” he asks after they’ve walked a few hundred feet.

Honey takes another deep breath and holds it briefly before exhaling loudly. “We met three months ago, Trevor. We are not getting married anytime soon.”

Trevor frowns. “Darn.” 

Honey scoffs, starting to laugh. “God, you’re weird. This is why I’m always telling you to think before you speak.”

Trevor exaggerates an eye roll, starting to laugh to himself. It really was a crazy thing to say. “So you don’t want to marry me?” he demands, pretending to be upset. “So you hate me.”

Honey laughs louder. “Stop,” she tells him. “We are not having this conversation now. Plus, we’re too young to get married. Maybe if you were a military guy and I was a ‘ring-by-spring’ girl, we could talk about that, but I’m not getting married for at least four more years. How ‘bout you see if you can stand me that long before you ask again?”

Trevor grumbles under his breath, but really, he’s pleased. Four years, and then he can propose? No problem– with the way hockey season passes, the years will go by in a flash. He’s pretty certain they’ll make it.

86:90 – HONEY

They’re two hours from closing time when Honey decides that she can no longer ignore Bea’s attitude. The girl seems to be in a funk and Honey has a feeling that she knows why. Bea hasn’t been willing to listen to Honey’s opinion before now, but things could be different now that she’s moping around like a wet cat. 

Her attitude isn’t actually all that bad. Aside from not wanting to do any actual work and showing up two hours late, Bea’s been mostly normal. The only difference is that she’s quiet and lazier than usual. 

Honey finds her laying on the beanbag chairs in the cozier section of their store. There’s no one in the Nook right now and Ada is sitting behind the cash register, doing a crossword. Honey is free to lay with Bea until they hear the twinkle of the bell attached to the front door. 

“What’s wrong?” Honey asks. She sits on the bag next to Bea, looking down at the girl.

Bea shifts her eyes to the side, not bothering to move her head to look at Honey. “You know what’s wrong,” she answers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Honey reaches over and fixes Bea’s shirt sleeve.

The girl throws her arm over her face and hides in the crook of her elbow. “I don’t know.”

Honey nods to herself and slides down the beanbag chair until she’s reclining. Her head rests against the bottom shelf of the bookcase and her feet are planted against the ground, knees toward the sky. She reaches her hand above her head and pulls a random book from the shelves, setting it against her thighs and opening it. She reads 38 pages of the historical fiction novel, set in 1580s England, before Bea speaks again.

“I feel like a stupid moron-idiot,” Bea nearly growls. The ‘t’ on ‘idiot’ is sharp coming from her mouth. She throws her arms down by her sides and Honey has to press her lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping. Bea looks like she just got petrificus totalus’ed. “I don’t like it here!”

“Okay, well, you’re not a stupid moron-idiot,” Honey tells her. “I’d say so if you were.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bea snaps. She narrows her eyes at Honey in annoyance. She sighs. “It’s just like… what the hell am I doing, you know?”

Honey prompts Bea to go on with a single hummed note. She closes the book she was reading.

Bea lifts her hands and talks with them while she explains– or tries to. “I don’t, like, ugh. Obviously, I know this isn’t– but I feel like…” she pauses, her fingers curling into half-formed fists. She whines in the back of her throat, frustrated. “This is so fucking stupid. I can’t even fucking explain myself.”

“Watch your language,” Honey murmurs, throwing a look over at Ada. The old woman hasn’t looked up yet, but if Bea continues to lean into this frustration, she’ll only start to swear more often and at a higher volume. 

Bea covers her face with flat palms and scrubs them up and down her skin. “I have never been the person to care, you know? Yeah, I go out with people, I have my fun, I have my friends, but I don’t ca-a-are,” she exaggerates the last word and shakes her hands out in front of her in time with it. Honey imagines she’s holding Christmas bells and has to stifle another giggle. 

This is serious. Not the time for an intrusive imagination.

“And now I’m out here caring! What is with that?” Bea exclaims.

“Well, I think it’s a good sign,” Honey says. “At least we know you have the capacity for romantic feelings now.”

Bea huffs indignantly. “We’ve always known that,” she sneers.

“Having a crush and actually loving someone are two different things,” Honey points out.

“Fuck off,” Bea replies.

Honey allows herself to giggle this time and shrugs. “I don’t know, Bea. I mean, it’s the first time you’ve felt like this. Do you really want to give it up?”

“No, I’m not sure, Honey, and that’s the fucking problem!”

The words explode out of Bea’s mouth and Honey physically draws her head back in surprise. “Wow,” she says.

Bea covers her face again. “I’m sorry. That was unnecessary. I’m just…”

“Frustrated,” Honey supplies. Bea shakes her head. “Confused?”

“Annoyed,” Bea corrects. She rolls her eyes, most likely at herself, and goes boneless on the beanbag. “I am practically at war with myself and it’s making me angry. So I would say that I’m more annoyed than frustrated or confused.”

“What are you fighting over?” Honey asks.

“I need to break up with him but I don’t want to break up with him,” Bea states. “That’s literally it.”

“Okay, so don’t break up with him if you don’t want to,” Honey says. “You guys can work through it. Quinn would be ecstatic to be all domestic and partner-y with you outside of the summer.”

Bea groans out loud. “I know,” she drawls. “But you don’t get it. I don’t expect you to, and I can’t explain it well, but I need to break up with him.”

“Why?”

“He’s not in my future,” Bea says. 

Honey blinks. It’s a simple and cryptic statement. Since when could Bea tell the future?

“It’s not fortune-telling, it’s logic,” Bea continues once she sees the look on Honey’s face. “I don’t see this ending positively if we continue dating outside of Litchton. He’ll go to hockey, I’ll stay here, our communication will diminish because he’s busy, I’ll get touchy and bitchy because I want attention, and then it all blows up and we break up and it’s a thousand times worse than ending it here.”

“How do you know that will happen?” Honey asks. “It sounds like a bunch of what-ifs to me.”

“I’m not emotionally mature enough for a relationship where my boyfriend ignores me eight or nine months of the year and then is all over me for the other three. The whiplash will be insane. If he played in Raleigh, or we lived closer to Vancouver, it would be different.”

It once again hits Honey that Bea has thought this through and won’t change her mind. She says everything so resolutely and has an answer for each of Honey’s remarks. Honey’s words can’t penetrate the iron armor of Bea’s decision and Bea’s explanations can’t seem to wade through the foggy confusion in Honey’s mind. They’re so different.

“I don’t know,” Bea resigns with a shrug. “Our lives are so different and he’s so far away. I think it would have been nice, and Quinn is damn near perfect, but my future isn’t with Quinn.” She shakes her head, breathing a laugh out of her nose in a self-deprecating way. “Is your future with Trevor?”

“Yes,” Honey decides. She means it.

Bea blinks and recoils in surprise, much like Honey did when Bea raised her voice. “Your future is with Trevor,” she repeats. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Honey replies. She thinks about how he genuinely suggested getting married yesterday, which was absurd, but didn’t feel wrong. When she was with Thomas, she knew that there was going to be someone after him. He wasn’t the end-all, be-all. Her gut is telling her that there’s nothing after Trevor. “Yeah. He’s– yes. My future is with Trevor.”

Bea looks at Honey until a prickle of discomfort starts to rise on Honey’s neck. She breathes out in relief when Bea looks away. She couldn’t read the look in Bea’s eyes, which increased the discomfort tenfold. Honey did not like what she saw. 

And she doesn’t think Bea’s eventual reaction matches the stare.

“Good for you,” Bea says. Her words seem shallow, brimming with surface-level congratulations. The layer of joy for Honey seems very thin. Honey doubts it’s because Bea disagrees with Honey’s decision. She thinks it’s because Bea still doesn’t know how to feel about her own.

The bell rings and Honey hears Ada greet a customer. She doesn’t want to leave Bea like this, but one of them has to work, and Bea doesn’t seem up for it. Honey understands that feeling better now.

She takes Bea’s hand and squeezes it tightly, then lets go. 

The encounter with her best friend stays on her mind long after they’ve closed the store. She invites Bea to come back to her place for dinner, which the girl accepts, but then they end up talking a little bit more and not making dinner at all. 

It’s hard to talk about this. Bea tries to explain her stance a little bit more, but she can’t find the words and Honey finds it harder and harder to read her mind with each suggestion that Bea turns down. Honey is doing her best to fill in the gaps, but for the first time in their lives, she and Bea are not even close to being on the same page. Usually, they can find some middle ground. This time, Honey feels like they’re throwing paper airplanes at each other over a canyon.

Bea leaves her house without eating dinner, after standing up and shaking out her body in an almost-violent wave that has Honey furrowing her eyebrows. “It seems like this is going against every instinct you have,” Honey wants to say, but Bea says “It’s now or never” and leaves before Honey can get the words out. 

Overall, it hasn’t been a great day. She feels drained right alongside Bea, trying to share the load as best she can without fully understanding Bea’s plight. It’s terrible.

So when Trevor shows up at Honey’s door half an hour after Bea leaves, his presence is a welcome distraction from the weight on her shoulders.

There’s still weight. Of course there is. The difference is that this replacement weight is physical– Honey is being crushed under the weight of her boyfriend as she tries to read her book in the dying summer light. She wants to finish this one before she goes back and borrows the one she started this afternoon while sitting with Bea. Honey isn’t usually one for period pieces– that’s Bea’s thing– but this one seemed cool.

Trevor might be sleeping, for all Honey knows. She’s twirling a strand of his hair around her fingers, other hand holding her book in the air, and Trevor is breathing evenly in her ear. His mouth is pressed against her jaw and their legs are intertwined. His arms are wrapped around her middle, hips squarely in line with hers. 

He’d sat on the counter while Honey made her own dinner, refusing his offer to cook for her since she already has a bad taste in her mouth from Bea’s problems. He had stolen some of her food off of the plate while she ate, talking all about how, today, he and the guys had to break down the makeshift rink they built for the summer. He and Quinn had done most of the work building the rink and he and Quinn had done most of the work tearing it down. The most Luke, Jack, and Cole did was stack the wood for a bonfire. Trevor knows that Earl won’t take it back.

His impression of the elderly man had been surprisingly spot-on. “Boy, you better not’a come up in here tryin’ to return old wood,” Trevor had mocked in a thick southern accent. “I’m not a bank! I don’t give out loans.”

Trevor had done the dishes this time after Honey was finished eating. She’d reclined on the couch while he did so, head resting on the throw pillow propped against the arm of the couch, and cracked her book open.

When Trevor joined her, he’d crawled under her arms and kissed her lips before tucking his head to the side. That’s how they got to where they are now. Honey only has about fifty pages left of her book, but she has a feeling she won’t make it to the end. Her boyfriend, in the last five pages or so that she’s read, has started nuzzling her neck. 

“You’re distracting me,” Honey says. She turns to the next page, then back because she realized that she skimmed the last paragraph and didn’t actually read it. It’s further proof that Trevor is taking her attention away from the book in her hands.

“I’m bored,” Trevor mumbles against Honey’s skin. “Let’s make out.”

Honey pretends to think about it for a minute, humming and looking up to the ceiling. 

Trevor does his best to convince her, kissing and licking up her neck until he makes it to her lips. “Puh-lease,” he begs in a sarcastic voice, pouting at Honey. He looks like a puppy asking for human food and Honey laughs.

She sets her bookmark between the pages and closes the book, stretching to place it on the coffee table. Trevor doesn’t let her move much. Honey cocks her head to the side, matching Trevor’s pout. She cradles his face.

Trevor’s pout breaks into a smile and he leans forward, catching her bottom lip and claiming it. The kiss starts soft and insistent, barely demanding anything from Honey at all. Between kisses, he touches her sides and sends sparks up her body. Her lips part and Trevor’s tongue explores Honey’s mouth. She breaks from him and laughs when he tries to roll his ‘R’ like he’s in Spanish class, but inside her mouth. He must have thought it would make a fun movement of their tongues, but Honey has to push him away for all of five minutes while she catches her breath.

He can’t kiss her again for another ten without more giggles spewing from Honey’s body. 

Trevor nips at Honey’s bottom lip playfully, then her own teeth tug gently on his lower lip in return. 

Honey is pliant beneath Trevor, the kiss both intimate and lazy and filthy and plundering. She could stay in his arms, pressed into the cushions of her comfy couch and lost in the drugging sweetness of his kisses, forever. The rest of the world fell away when she was kissing him, until Honey’s front door swings open and hits the wall next to it.

The couple separates, although Trevor is still laying on top of Honey. He lifts himself up just enough to look over the back of the couch, at the person attached to the pair of stomping feet approaching them. Honey doesn’t have to look to know who it is. She recognizes Bea’s footsteps well.

“Get out,” Bea announces in a grave, serious, and stern voice.

She really did it, then, Honey thinks to herself, equal parts impressed and sad for Bea. It’s no wonder she doesn’t want Trevor here, especially not on top of Honey and making out with her like a bad reminder.

Honey places her hands on Trevor’s chest and starts to push him off, but has to shift her focus when Trevor starts to fight back, like he always does.

“What stick got shoved up your ass today?” Trevor snaps. 

“Get out,” Bea repeats.

“Trevor,” Honey jumps in, tapping his collarbone insistently.

Trevor eyes fall, not so far as to find Honey, but just to Bea’s midsection. “What is that?” he asks. “You brought a toy with you? Is that the stupid cow that Quinn wouldn’t let Jack cuddle when he found it earlier?”

Honey grinds her teeth together and covers Trevor’s mouth with both of her hands. “Shut up,” she hisses. 

His words have done enough damage. Bea pulls the coffee table out of the way and steps up to the couch, whacking Trevor with Moo-Moo and the flat of her other hand over and over, trying to make solid contact with his twisting body. He’s laughing, because clearly he thinks this is a joke, but Honey doesn’t find it funny at all. Neither does Bea, whose eyes are red, puffy and seething with ire and a fresh layer of mist.

“I hate you,” she tells him with absolute conviction. “You have absolutely no empathy for anyone ever and if you paid attention for more than two seconds, you’d realize that today is not the day to be a cunt to me, Trevor!”

“You’re fucking insane,” Trevor responds, curling up into a ball and hiding behind Honey as she sits up.

Honey catches Bea’s hands and holds them tightly. “Stop,” Honey says. “Stop. I know you’re upset, but stop it.”

“He started it,” Bea deflects tearfully.

“Baby, you told him to get out instead of asking him to leave,” Honey replies, tilting her head knowingly at Bea.

The girl’s bottom lip wobbles and her chest starts to lurch. “I don’t want him here,” she says through gulping breaths. “I need you to stay with me. Alone.”

Trevor has noticed Bea’s state and reacts with the appropriate awkwardness. “Shit,” he acknowledges. 

Bea squeezes her eyes shut and sobs, curling in on herself.

Honey stands and wraps her in a hug, one arm wrapped around Bea’s ribcage and other hand cradling the back of her head. Bea cries into her shoulder, arms locked around Honey’s body. She’s still clutching Moo-Moo’s ear between her fingers, a nervous habit that Honey hasn’t seen since they were in their tweens. 

“Trev, sweetheart, you should go,” Honey says softly. “Please.”

He rises from the couch and touches the base of Honey’s spine. “Sorry, Bea,” he tries. Honey can see that he wants to pat her on the arm, but she shakes her head and he refrains. “I hope you’re okay.”

It’s a really awkward goodbye from Trevor, understandably so, and Honey feels terrible as Bea continues to cry. Honey gets her upstairs and into her bed, which they’ve shared for plenty of Honey’s freakouts, but it feels so much different this time.

Honey positions Moo-Moo so that he’s right under Bea’s nose and his fur is touching her lips. She brushes Bea’s hair out of her face and wipes a little bit of the mascara off of her eyelids. “I’m sorry you had to do this,” Honey whispers. “It sucks.”

Bea hiccups. “It’s for the best,” she manages shakily. “I’d be ten times worse if this happened after… everything I tried to explain earlier.”

Long distance, Quinn’s laser-focus on hockey, Bea’s self-admitted need for attention, the way all of those things will compound until they hate each other and breakup in a much bigger blowout. Those are the bits Honey understood. It’s how Bea got from one point to the other, with all of those assumptions, that Honey didn’t quite get. 

“He thought I would change my mind because you and Trevor are staying together,” Bea adds in a miserable voice. 

Honey feels a flare of anger rise up in her throat. They’ve experienced this before– people always assume that she and Bea do the same thing, together, all the time. They’re best friends, but they’re not clones of each other. It’s their shared pet peeve– which doesn’t actually disprove the statement that they’re the same.

“He said he’d buy me an apartment in Vancouver.” A fresh round of sobs leaves Bea and she wipes them on the top of Moo-Moo’s head. “It’s like– I can’t uproot my life just for him,” she says desperately, as if she has to explain it to Honey. She feels the same way Bea does. Moving across the country with her boyfriend of three months (unofficially) would be a mistake. “He didn’t get it. He didn’t get it.”

Honey closes her eyes and touches her forehead to Bea’s. 

“I explained it to him at the beginning of the summer and he agreed,” Bea reminds herself more than Honey. “And I can’t, I can’t–”

“I know,” Honey murmurs. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Bea heaves in Honey’s arms and soaks her spare pillow with tears. Honey watches her, stroking her cheek and her arm and wiping her running nose with tissue after tissue. It’s hard. Bea used to do the same thing for her, countless times over, and Honey feels dreadful. Bea shouldn’t ever look like this or feel like this. Honey would do anything to change it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Bea takes a shaky breath, then another. “It felt like he didn’t understand me,” Bea explains in a far-away voice with a mournful frown. “I thought he knew.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Honey sighs. “He was just hoping something would change.”

“Then he didn’t listen when I told him nothing would,” Bea sniffs. She averts her gaze from Honey’s eyes, down to the space between them. She sniffs again. “Is that Puppy?”

Honey looks down. Her monkey is between them, left on the middle of the bed when Trevor made a scene of returning him to his rightful owner. He did not return the Ducks shirt that magically appeared in her dresser drawer in Charlotte. “Yeah.”

Bea scrunches her face in confusion and breathes out either a laugh or a fresh set of tears– but she’s cried dry, so nothing appears. “Did he become sentient and walk here?” she implores, disbelieving. 

Honey almost laughs in relief at the change in subject. She knows Bea well enough to know that she’s deflecting and moving on because she doesn’t want to cry over her breakup anymore. They’ll come back to it another day, when she’s processed it a bit more. “Trevor and I went to see my parents.”

Bea is silent, mouth open in pure betrayal. “What the hell else have you been keeping from me?” she wails dramatically. “Are you moving to Cali?”

“No,” Honey exclaims. She laughs out loud. “I am not moving to California.”

“Good, ‘cause the West Coast is not the best coast,” Bea asserts stubbornly. 

“Have you eaten?” Honey asks.

Bea’s expression immediately turns into a scowl. She hates when Honey asks that, taking it as a personal attack and an insinuation that she can’t take care of herself. “No.”

At least she’s honest. “Stay right there,” Honey says. “I’m going to go make you something quick. You need to eat.” She kicks off the covers and shoves her feet into her slippers, padding across the floor.

“Make me a water bottle too,” Bea bosses in a grumble. “I feel like a raisin.”

She’ll be okay. Honey is sure of it. Even if Bea isn’t, Honey will be around.

87:90 – TREVOR

i’m sorry i attacked u. that was mean. can i come over later to apologize for real? Bea asks through text message. 

Trevor can’t shake the image of Bea crying in Honey’s arms from his mind. He still feels guilty about how he had provoked her and completely misread the room. It’s their thing, making fun of each other and being each other’s number one hater. Trevor hadn’t known that Bea would be so touchy yesterday.

Honey is coming over at 7 to help me pack

i know. i’ll drive her there and u can drive her to work toma

You won’t stay over?

Bea doesn’t respond to that one– not for another few hours. She texts once Trevor is finishing up his last load of laundry. He’s choosing which clothes he’ll keep out for the next few days when his phone vibrates.

i’ll explain later.

It’s a resolute answer that confuses Trevor. He moves his laundry into a massive pile on his bed so that he actually gets it done before he goes to bed, then leaves the room. He’ll do it when Honey gets here. He wants to prolong their time together, so he’ll fold and she’ll pack. She likes organizational things like that. Three weeks ago, the same day she accidentally called him her boyfriend, Trevor watched Honey take all of her books off of her bookshelves and reorder them accordingly. He doesn’t know her system. He does know, however, that she was very content with the repetitive action. There was a little smile on her face the whole time.

Trevor walks downstairs and finds the main level empty. He goes down the next flight and finds the boys. None of them have even started to pack, which is annoying because they still have to clean the rental house on Friday. At this rate, it’ll fall to Trevor to clean because all the guys are trying to locate their things. Cole will be trying to save his clothes from being stolen by the Hughes brothers, who just scoop up all the laundry as if it’s theirs. Trevor supposes that’s what happens when they share the Michigan house– he wouldn’t be surprised if the spare bedroom had been turned into a joint-closet in the time since he’s visited.

Luke and Cole are playing ping-pong and yelling at each other. Jack and Quinn are laying across the two couches, each with a book in their hand. Trevor almost wants to tease them for coexisting so peacefully, but he plops down on the recliner instead. He snatches the remote and turns the TV on, enduring Quinn’s side eye as he disturbs the quiet surrounding the seating area. 

“The girls are coming over in a bit,” Trevor announces to the group. 

He doesn’t miss how Jack’s eyes lift towards Quinn. Or how Quinn shifts on the couch. Or how the ping pong ball goes clattering to the floor and Cole sings, “Another point for me.”

“Honey’s going to help me pack,” Trevor adds. “You guys should really start packing, too.”

“Don’t be a killjoy, Z. We’ll get to it,” Jack says. “We’re enjoying the time we have left.”

Trevor pauses, gawking at the irony of the words. “You’re the one who didn’t want to come here in the first place,” he points out.

Jack just shrugs and flicks to the next page in his book. He adjusts the baseball cap on his head. “I changed my mind.”

“So you want to come back next year?” Trevor asks.

Jack curls his lip. “No. Not for the whole summer. I’d like to spend my free time in the house I own, thanks.” He reaches his leg toward the other sofa blindly and kicks Quinn. “Right, Q-Ball?”

“Yeah,” Quinn says shortly.

Trevor hasn’t heard his voice sound as curt as this in a long time. He leaves it alone, turning back to face the television and focusing on the episode of The Office that seemed to magically appear, as if this TV has memorized Jack’s watching habits. 

Luke and Cole sit on the big couch after their game of ping-pong ends. Luke puts his arms over the back of it, stretching his long limbs out over Quinn’s shoulders. Cole kicks his feet up on the coffee table and laughs at most of the jokes coming from the television over the next two episodes.

The day passed by quickly with all the laundry Trevor did. It doesn’t surprise him when he hears the front door open in the distance and two pairs of footsteps crossing the floor above them. 

“Hello?” Honey calls, stopping halfway down the basement steps and waving. “Nobody greets their guests at the door anymore?”

Trevor’s face splits with a smile and he laughs. He stands and walks toward Honey. Cole immediately takes his seat in the recliner.

“Hey, baby,” Trevor says. He climbs the first few steps and kisses Honey briefly. “You ready to pack up some laundry?”

“Is it ready to pack or is it in a pile on your bed?” Honey responds.

Trevor doesn’t answer, just looking at Honey knowingly.

She rolls her eyes and pats his chest firmly. “You’re the worst. I’ll go start folding while you talk to Bea.” Honey looks around Trevor’s body. “You okay, Q?”

Quinn hums. Trevor catches the tail end of a shrug when he looks in the boy’s direction. 

“Ask me how I am,” Cole chirps.

Honey’s thoughtful bite of her lower lip after Quinn’s response disappears after Cole’s input. She chuckles. “How are you, Cole?”

“Never better,” Cole brags. “Just won another game of ping-pong against the big guy.”

“By two points,” Luke jumps in. “It wasn’t that impressive. We were neck-in-neck for ages.”

“Well, you’ll get him next time, Lukey. Good job, Cole.” Honey slides her hand into Trevor’s. “C’mon, Trev. We’ve got chores to do.”

“Will you guys be here for long?” Jack asks. “Tell Bea to come down.”

“She has stuff to do tonight,” Honey lies. She tries to keep her face impassive, but Trevor knows that Bea never has anything to do unless she’s hanging out with Quinn. 

The fact that Quinn hasn’t moved at all from the couch since Bea got here is suspicious. 

Oh my God, they broke up, Trevor realizes suddenly. Oh my God. He stares at Quinn. The dark circles under his eyes make sense now.

“Come on, Trev.” Honey tugs his hand and leads him upstairs. Trevor is still looking at Quinn, scrutinizing him until Honey drags Trevor out of sight.

“What happened?” Trevor asks. He pads after Honey, entering the kitchen.

“Talk to Bea,” Honey replies. She brings a hand to Trevor’s jaw and kisses him softly on the lips. “I have to go do the laundry you left for me while you do. You’re a terrible boyfriend.”

“I’m not,” Trevor whines. “I wanted to fold them together.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Honey tells him, only a slight air of sarcasm in her voice. “But you have to make up with Bea. I’ll meet you upstairs when you’re done. It shouldn’t take long.”

Trevor doesn’t dare sigh out loud, not when Bea or Honey could hear him. He agreed to this, but the thing is, Bea doesn’t need to apologize to him. It wasn’t a big deal. Now that Trevor thinks she and Quinn broke up, he thinks that he should be apologizing. Not that he will. Unless he feels like it in the moment.

He turns away from the stairs and looks for Bea, scanning the room. She’s nowhere to be found. Surely Honey would’ve brought him in here because this is where Bea is. Maybe she chickened out and couldn’t stand to be in the house, so she left.

“Over here,” she says, lifting her arm into the air. She’s laying on the couch in the living room, the one that they rarely ever use. 

Trevor rounds the couch and finds Bea laying there in a tank top and jean shorts, very reminiscent of Honey’s style. He supposes it makes sense– she probably stayed the night with Honey last night. Her hair is up in a bun, also like Honey. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Bea echos. She rolls partially off of the sofa and reaches for her bag in a half-assed way, waving her arm four times before snagging one of the handles and pulling it into her space. “I brought you a treat.”

Trevor sits on the ottoman near the fireplace. “Oh, yeah? What kind of treat?”

“Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.” Bea pulls a tupperware out of the bag and underhand-tosses it to Trevor. “I need the container back when you guys leave. It’s from the Nook.”

“I’ll wash it tonight and give it to Honey so she can bring it back to work tomorrow,” Trevor says. “You didn’t have to make me cookies.”

“Well, I’m bad at apologies, so I wanted to make a gesture,” Bea says. 

Trevor feels sheepish all of a sudden. “You don’t have to apologize either,” he tells her with a grimace. “I didn’t realize you were having a bad day and I probably shouldn’t have poked the bear.”

Bea talks over him as he stumbles through the last part of his statement. “I do have to apologize. It seems like you’re going to be around for a long time, Trevor, and I don’t want us to be at odds.” 

A blossom of pride blooms in Trevor’s chest when Bea admits to him being around for a long time– absolutely he’ll be around for a long time. His relationship with Honey won’t be ending anytime soon. 

“It wasn’t cool of me to hit you and yell at you,” Bea continues. “You definitely weren’t nice, but I wasn’t any better.”

“That’s kind of what we do, though,” Trevor says. “Bicker.”

“Not like that.” Bea shakes her head. “I should’ve had more control over myself, so I’m sorry. I know you didn’t really mean to make a bad day worse.”

“What happened?” Trevor asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Bea takes a deep breath and looks away from Trevor. She stares at the ceiling and a thick silence settles between them. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Bea glares at him out of the side of her eye. That’s back to normal. “Obviously I’m going to tell you Trevor, but I am once again asking you to wait two seconds.”

Trevor looks at his fingernails and picks at his cuticles. “It’s been two seconds,” he grumbles. 

“You are so lucky that Honey is patient with you, I would be swinging on you in a second if I was her,” Bea argues back.

“Right back at’cha,” Trevor bites.

Bea pauses. She eyes him, then looks back to the ceiling. “We broke up,” Bea says with a shrug. “It didn’t go like I wanted it to. It didn’t go like Quinn wanted it to. It was a bad day.”

Trevor doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Bea looks at him, an incredulous squint adorning her face. Then, she snorts and laughs. “Okay,” she says. “Don’t go getting all sappy on me, Trevor.”

“Breakups suck,” Trevor says with a shrug. He’s not being sappy. He’s relating to Bea.

“I might’ve yelled at you for your shit empathy yesterday, but you really don’t have to do all that,” Bea snickers. “I don’t really want you to feel for me, Trevor. I’m happy with our relationship as is. You fight with me like Cece and Trix do.”

“Are you saying I’m a girl?” Trevor asks, making a joke of her sentence. It’s pretty nice, actually, to be compared to one of Bea’s siblings. It makes sense, considering how they fight. It’s how Trevor fights with Griffin and Ava.

Bea taps her chin and purses her lips. “Well, if the glass slipper fits.”

Trevor makes a face at Bea and stands up. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I am.” She sticks her tongue out at Trevor and sits up, grabbing her bag and hoisting herself off of the comfy furniture. 

“Are you leaving?” Trevor asks when Bea follows him to the steps, toward the front of the house.

“Yep,” Bea confirms. “I can’t very well… stay the night, or anything.” She laughs self-deprecatingly and shifts her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though. We’re supposed to get dinner altogether. Did Honey tell you that yet?”

“No,” Trevor says.

“Well, we are. Tell the boys. We’re going to Mexico and having tacos and margs.” Bea opens the door and slips through. “Have fun with Honey.”

Trevor nods and heads upstairs, walking down the hallway into his bedroom. When he pushes the door open, the pile of laundry on his bed has shrunk drastically, thanks to Honey’s dutiful work. 

“How many loads did you do?” Honey asks as soon as he walks inside. 

“Like three,” Trevor says. “Three and a half.”

“I can’t believe you brought that many clothes for one summer,” Honey says. “I don’t know if I have enough clothes for three and a half loads. Maybe if I was doing my delicates and whites and colors separate.”

Trevor hums and takes his spot next to Honey. When she bends forward to grab another shirt to fold, he slaps her ass playfully. She stole a pair of his boxers, to Trevor’s delight. 

Honey rolls her eyes. “Can we get your laundry done before you start getting distracted by my body?”

Trevor scrunches up his face and pretends to cry, wrapping his arms around Honey’s shoulders and burying his face in her hair. 

“Stop being dramatic,” Honey chastizes. “Pick up a shirt and fold it or I’m going to make you do this all by yourself.”

Trevor is quick to get a move on after that. He fully believes Honey will make him do the chores all by himself. It’s not that he’s incapable, but he wants to do it together. It’s embarrassing how much Trevor likes the idea of folding laundry together, like they share a house and do their laundry together. Maybe next summer they will. Trevor could move in with Honey if she lets him. If she says no, Earl offered the apartment above his garage on Sunday, which might be the closest Trevor will ever come to hearing Earl outright tell Trevor that he likes him. 

He’s two for two. Both Earl and Honey did everything they could to remain grumpy and detached when it comes to Trevor, and look at how that changed. He’s just impressively charismatic.

When Honey asks what Trevor is smiling about, and he repeats his thoughts to her, she snaps a t-shirt at his thigh. 

She loves him. Definitely.

88:90 – HONEY

“Would you get us another round, Luce?” Honey asks, looking up at the dark-haired girl who has worked at Mexico since her family bought the building in her childhood. She clasps her hands together in praying fashion. “Then we’ll be done. I promise.”

“Scout’s honor, Luce,” Bea vows with a big smile. 

“You guys have already been overserved,” Lucía replies with a frown. “You know I don’t care, but my dad worries.”

“Quinn is driving,” Bea says. “Don’t worry. Tell Carlos that he doesn’t have to worry about us and that his Mole Poblano is perfect. He should never change the recipe.”

Lucía laughs. “Yeah, he’ll love that. You know how to work the system. So we’ve got beers for the boys now? Or are y’all still pounding margs like the girls?”

“I’m stickin’ with a marg, dude,” Cole declares. He runs his tongue over the salt rim and smacks his lips, smiling widely at their waitress. 

The Hughes boys decide to switch it up to a beer, as does Trevor. A nice, refreshing beer with a little lime doesn’t seem bad to Honey right now, but she’ll probably have to drink beer at the surprise party. Earl was in charge of the drinks and swore he’d buy enough for everyone they invited, but Honey isn’t certain he knows just how much beer the town can drink during a party. Luckily, Sarah is bringing her trailer-bar in case Earl underestimates things. At least there will be one experienced drinker and party-planner in Trevor’s backyard.

Bea orders another strawberry margarita, Cole orders a normal lime one, and Honey orders a mango-flavored marg, but her mind is elsewhere. The ladies swore on Tuesday that they have planned enough parties in their time to set this one up without Honey’s supervision. 

There are so many things that could go wrong. The alcohol was supposed to take the edge off. Honey wishes she was at the house and she’d left the dinner to Bea. That was the original plan, before the breakup happened on Tuesday. Now, Bea isn’t really that comfortable without Honey acting as a buffer between her and the boys. There’s definitely an awkwardness between her and Quinn, although they’re both trying to ignore it. Honey has seen Quinn watching Bea. Bea isn’t oblivious, either.

Other than the glances between Bea and Quinn, the dinner has been pretty good. The boys seem to believe that it’s their last hoo-rah together and they’re making the most of it. When she’s not worried about how things are going at the rental house, Honey is laughing at Jack’s stupid jokes or at the other boys’ comebacks and quips.

‘One more round’ turns into two before they leave. It’s normal for a Mexico trip to end in a few more drinks than expected, especially as the weekend approaches. By the time they’re walking out the door, the sun has started setting, and Sarah has texted Honey that everyone is ready for them to come back.

She and Bea are holding in their excitement well on the drive back to the house, sharing looks with each other and trying not to spill the secret at the last second.

“What the hell,” Quinn wonders under his breath, sounding confused as he pulls into the driveway and sees that there are more than a few cars parked in front of the house. 

The crowd of people in front of the house should be a dead giveaway to what’s going on. There are tons of familiar faces in the crowd, an impressive group considering Honey only had this idea on Tuesday morning while the ladies were in their knitting circle. 

Bea is bouncing in her seat, jumping out of the car as Quinn puts it into park. Honey exits after her and grins, hoping to find excitement and surprise on her friends’ faces. 

“Surprise!” shouts the crowd around the front of the house. 

“Welcome to your going away party!” Vera adds. She’s right at the front of the crowd with the other ladies, holding gift bags with the boys’ hockey numbers on them. “Come and get your presents.”

They’re all sufficiently buzzed, but Honey is glad to see that they can all pass a sobriety test; the boys don’t stumble or stagger at all on their way towards their respective present-presenter.

It’s really cute how Cole hugs Vera and Trevor accepts a kiss on the cheek from Scarlett. Luke hugs Gillian with one arm and looks over her shoulder at Emma-Kate while he does, sending her a playfully inquisitive look that Honey assumes has to do with the gift. Quinn accepts his bag from Sacha and Jack thanks Rosalind for his. It’s sweet– the ladies had dropped their current projects to create something for each boy, having only two days to craft a knitted item. She knows what each of them are and it’s a wonder that the ladies’ hands aren’t sore and laden with blisters and calluses. 

Vera knitted a sweater for Cole, her favorite of the boys. She asked Honey to see what colors Cole’s hockey team is, so she ended up knitting a navy sweater with red cuffs and a red hem to try and stay on theme as best she could. It was so precious.

Trevor got a sweater too, although his is a cable-knit conglomeration of all of the leftover half-skeins Scarlett has amassed over the past year. The colors change without warning and don’t follow a specific pattern, but Trevor is delighted with it. Honey snorts when he pulls it on over his clothes then and there. Of course he does, even though the temperature is in the high 70s. It’s warm and he’s out here wearing a sweater– maybe if they’re still out partying at two in the morning, it’ll pay off. 

The Hughes boys got beanies, since half of the pictures that came up when Honey looked them up for the ladies featured them walking through hockey arenas in suits and knitted toques. Quinn’s is dark green with a blue brim and Honey notices his tiny, quirked smile as he examines it. He hugs Sacha and thanks her again before tucking the hat into the pocket of his shorts.

Jack and Luke’s beanies nearly match, since each lady except Scarlett tried to match each boys’ team colors. They’re both black and white, although Jack’s is striped and Luke’s is a solid black with a firetruck red rim. There’s a patch on the brim of Luke’s that he seems particularly amused by. It’s black with white letters and a red heart– Honey can’t read what it says– but Emma-Kate is snickering to herself with her tongue poking between her teeth. It must have been her idea. Luke’s eyes tilt up to look up at her and he chuckles, shaking his head. Jack pulls his beanie on, just like Trevor did with his sweater, and Luke places his back in the gift bag. 

The party lingers in the front for a little while longer, with the boys talking to people in the crowd as Honey and Bea (and Earl) walk around the house into the backyard. It looks gorgeous– there are ladders leaning against the side of the house, which Honey assumed were used to hang the fairy lights that are twinkling along the balcony of the house. There are also poles sticking up in the yard, right at the edge of the concrete pad that the boys used as their rink, which allow fairy lights to freefall against the sky like a canopy of stars. 

Honey is glad that she dressed up today in her black, ribbed tank top and long, red boho skirt. There’s music playing through a speaker that Sarah brought with her and Honey wants to dance. The cicadas are out and singing along with the music, trying to screech over the lyrics. 

Bea also dressed up. She’s wearing a white bodysuit that ties in the back with a ruffly, dandelion-colored gingham skirt. She did her hair during her lunch break at the Nook, curling the strands into loose waves that make her look like she belongs on the beach. They need to get a picture.

Earl is stoking the bonfire in the pit that the boys made at the beginning of the summer, so the girls bother him to take their photo for a couple of minutes before he relents. They pose under the lights and hug each other, giggling when Bea turns her head and smushes her lips into Honey’s cheek. 

It’s then that the boys manage to migrate into the backyard. While other guests are heading towards the snack and drink table, or the bonfire, the guys are barreling into Honey and Bea’s photos. Jack grabs Bea’s waist and throws her over his shoulder, sticking his tongue out at the camera. Earl snaps a picture as Bea shrieks and laughs.

After minutes of wrangling, and convincing the boys to really smile, they get a couple of decent pictures together. Luke’s arm is thrown over Honey’s shoulder and Trevor’s arm is around her waist, holding her so tightly that their hips are touching.

Earl eventually gives up and hands the phone back to Bea, saying he’s not a photographer and he expects to be paid if they want any more pictures. Honey thinks he just wants to get back to the fire, which is every man’s happy place, it seems. There’s definitely a dichotomy here. So many of the men and husbands that came along to this party are mingling around the fire with their beer bottles in hand, while the women are all around. It makes Honey laugh, to be honest.

Trevor sticks by her side the whole night. Honey tells him that he can go hang out with Cole or dance around with Jack, but Trevor wraps his index finger around her pinkie and takes a sip from his beer instead. 

They talk with the ladies and with Joan, then with the guys from the Scruffy’s band. Honey challenges Andrew, the bass player, to a game of pool in the basement of the rental house. She still doesn’t win against him– maybe 2025 will be the year that she finally hustles Andrew. Arn, the lead singer of the band, takes her place and promises to “show her how it’s done,” which makes Honey roll her eyes and “hardy-har” at him. She and Trevor go back outside and join Bea around the bonfire.

The party started pretty late for most residents of Litchton. Honey and Bea didn’t meet up with the guys until after the Nook closed for the night, then they’d had about four drinks over two-ish hours, and then they came to the party. A lot of the older people from town, like Ada, have left the going away party with a final well-wish and a wave. Ada even offered to open the store tomorrow morning, so that Bea doesn’t have to leave early if she doesn’t want to. Bea had laughed and said she wouldn’t say no to that, but that she’ll have to make up for all the late starts during the school year.

They started with maybe fifty people, and that’s a generous estimate, but now they’re down to twenty or so. Sarah and Ethan are packing up the trailer bar for the night, but there’s plenty of beer leftover. Tyler ran out to go relieve the babysitter, while Jessie wanted to hang around a bit and talk to some of her old high school acquaintances that Honey has gotten to know over the years. Those four have probably been the oldest people at the party in the last half-hour.

Luke and Emma-Kate are chatting under the covered porch, feet in the hot tub. Jack and Cole are on the dance floor with a couple of Emma-Kate’s NC State friends. Honey doesn’t know how she convinced them to take a road trip to bumfuck western North Carolina during the first week of classes, but she has a feeling that the cute hockey stars might’ve played a factor. 

Both Bea and Quinn are seated around the fire with the townies. Lucía and her older brother Diego made it to the party and are sitting between Bea and Quinn, talking to the person to their side. Diego has a blunt between his fingers and keeps throwing looks at Griffin and his cop-buddy Joshua, who are also sitting around the fire. Diego is arching his eyebrow like The Rock towards the pair every couple minutes and making Griffin laugh to the point that he can’t even look in Diego’s direction anymore.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Honey asks, touching Bea’s shoulder. She’s staring into the fire and lifting her eyes to survey the group every once in a while or to look at Luce when they’re having a conversation.  

Bea puckers her lips at Honey and blows her a kiss. “Yeah, I’m good.” She pouts at Honey and continues to explain, “Coming down from the buzz, so I’m like hungover and drunk at the same time. I think I prefer morning hangovers. It’s also sad that the guys are leaving.” 

Trevor chuckles next to Bea and places his hand on the back of her folding chair. “You’re missing me already?”

Bea rolls her eyes. She knocks her head against his hand. “Not you, you take away my Honey time.”

“Here, Hon, you can have my chair,” Griffin offers, standing up and bringing the chair over to where they’re standing. 

“No, Griff, I’m okay standing and you had it first,” Honey says, waving him off. She doesn’t really want to sit, especially not if she’s taking Griffin’s chair. She’s just checking with Bea, and then she and Trevor are going to dance. Honey’s phone is connected to the speaker now, so all of her favorite music is playing. 

Griffin shakes his head and plants the chair next to Bea. “I’m going to grab another beer and use the bathroom anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Griffin,” Bea sing-songs. “I know you’re trying to be gentlemanly–”

At that, Trevor’s hand slides around Honey’s hip possessively. 

“–but stop trying to force your chivalry on my best friend,” Bea finishes. A grin passes over her face after she ends her sentence.

Griffin laughs. He taps Bea’s forehead and she bites at Griffin’s finger when he pulls away. He leaves the circle and Bea shoots the hairband around her wrist at his retreating back.

Honey catches Quinn watching them, but he averts his eyes quickly when he sees that Honey is watching him. 

She feels like her stomach is sinking into the dirt. Honey tilts her head to the side, taking in Quinn’s shrunken posture, and sighs.

Trevor sinks into the chair Griffin left behind and pulls Honey onto his lap. She goes willingly, but leans forward and rests her elbows on the arm of Bea’s chair. 

“Are you going to talk to him?” Honey asks under her breath. “You’re both miserable.”

“I can’t,” Bea deflects in a low voice, matching Honey’s tone. She looks at Quinn and looks away just as quickly, biting the inside of her cheek.

Honey presses her lips together and blinks at Bea.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bea complains, rolling her shoulder up and grimacing in blatant discomfort. “I feel bad, but it’s not…”

“Bea, you have to talk to him,” Honey tells her gently. “He’s not gone yet and you love him.”

Bea looks at her hands and rubs her thumb over the lines on her palm.

“He loves you,” Honey prods. She touches Bea’s elbow. “Finish the summer on a good note.”

“We’re broken up,” Bea reiterates to Honey, an unnecessary reminder of something Honey knows all too well. She was there with Bea before and after it happened. She knows.

“And that’s fine,” Honey says. “But neither of you want to be. You can’t just ignore him.”

Bea takes a deep breath and peeks at Quinn. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispers, still gazing in his direction. 

As if Quinn can feel the eyes on him, Honey sees him glance up and make eye contact with Bea. The corners of his lips turn up slightly in a reassuring smile before he looks away. 

She does the same. 

Honey tucks a lock of hair behind Bea’s ear. “You can do this.”

Trevor’s hands squeeze Honey’s hips and she gets the hint– he’s a little needy for attention. He managed to wait until the end of her and Bea’s conversation, which she’s happy about. It’s the bare minimum, and yet Trevor is impatient and bounces between one thing and another within minutes. He’s so sweet, and he gets rather restless quickly.

She wants to dance anyway. It’s time. Honey stands and pats Bea’s shoulder before she and Trevor approach the makeshift dance floor. She holds his hand and leads him there.

“You’re really good at crisis management,” Trevor says, turning Honey around so that they’re face to face. He puts his hands on her hips and holds her close. 

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Honey replies. She twines her arms around Trevor’s neck and knocks her nose against his. “Five years of it.”

Trevor hums and frowns, leaning in and stealing Honey’s lips a few times. “I hate remembering that,” he drawls. He pecks her lips again. “But you are very good at it. I like that you take care of people so well.”

Honey feels her cheeks go red and she shakes her head, looking over his shoulder at Jack and his brunette. 

Trevor kisses over Honey’s neck and her shoulder. They sway to the music, staying close and breathing in time with each other. 

Honey rests her temple against Trevor’s cheek. She laughs and corrects him when his hands fall from her hips to her ass. She can feel him smiling in a cheeky way after she tells him to move his hands back to a respectable place, although he obeys in an instant. 

A few minutes later, Trevor taps Honey’s waist with his thumb. “They’re dancing.”

Honey is confused for a minute, then her eyebrows lift towards her hairline. “Bea and Quinn?”

“Mhm,” Trevor hums. He spins them around in place so that Honey can creepily watch Bea and Quinn dancing behind them. 

Bea’s got a hand on Quinn’s shoulder, her other hand held in his out to her right side. They’ve got a relaxed-ballroom dance stance instead of the closer hold that Trevor and Honey have on each other. Quinn’s hand is on Bea’s waist and they seem to be talking, albeit in stilted conversation, as they move. 

Quinn’s fingers are tense, partially lifted off of Bea’s waist, like he’s not sure if he can touch her. They relax when Bea steps closer and lets her forearm rest on his bicep, faces close enough that they can probably feel each others’ breath. They look… happy to be like this, but hesitant.

Honey understands why Bea is so choked up every time she has to be near Quinn. After all, Honey doesn’t want Trevor to leave, but it’s inevitable. The same is true for Bea and Quinn. The summer and their time in Litchton was always going to end. Distance is a just a cruel snip of fate.

Honey gulps as they turn, catching the look in Bea’s glassy eyes, fastened on Quinn’s face. She’s biting her lower lip while she studies him. It’s like Quinn is telling her something, but she can’t hear him without remembering what it’s like to kiss him. She’s tormented by how much she likes him and taunted by the fact that it could never work.

Honey loses them in her sight as she and Trevor spin on the floor. Honey takes a sharp inhale and blinks, coming back to herself. 

“I don’t want to miss you in the fall,” Honey says suddenly, as if jolted awake. 

“What?” Trevor asks, thoroughly confused.

“When Bea and Quinn broke up, she said it made the most sense? I don’t think it makes sense for us,” Honey stammers, shaking her head. 

“What are you talking about?” Trevor asks.

Of course he’s confused, since they already decided that they’d be staying together after Trevor leaves, but Honey has to say what’s on her mind regardless. She distantly recognizes the song that has started to play– “A year from now, we’ll all be gone…”

“I never wanted to see Thomas again after we broke up, but I never want to be without you,” Honey says. “We can’t break up.”

“Honey, we’re not breaking up,” Trevor agrees. 

She understands what he meant now– when he came to the Nook for the first time, Trevor told her that he liked her name because it was like he got to call her something special, something sweet. It rubbed her the wrong way then, but hearing his tender tone now makes Honey want to weep. Her name only sounds right, like this, when he says it. “I’m in this. You’re stuck with me. God help you.”

His sincere words break a dam in Honey’s ribs, causing her to giggle. “You’re not going to make me beg?” She jabs back, grateful that he didn’t take her hurried words in a more serious, concerned, worried way. 

Trevor leans down to mouth over her pulse point. “Oh, every day of your life. Know how much you like it, gotta keep my girlfriend happy,” he mumbles along her skin. 

Honey lets out a contented sigh. She hugs Trevor closer. “Knew you were good for something.”

“That’s why you decided to keep me around, hm?” Trevor teases with a smile at the curve of her jaw. “The sex?”

“One of the reasons,” Honey teases back.

“Yeah? What are the others?” Trevor asks. He’s goading her into giving him compliments, but Honey is more than willing to comply.

Honey pulls him up to meet her lips. “I love you,” she says after the kiss.

Trevor grins, his chipped tooth that Honey is so fond of catching her eye. “I love you, too,” he replies and kisses her again.

“Holy shit, what did you two just say?” Cole demands suddenly from next to them. He’s dancing with Emma-Kate’s redheaded friend, to whom he bids goodbye with a squeeze of her hand and a wink. He turns back to Honey and Trevor. “When did this happen?”

“When did what happen,” Trevor asks, narrowing his eyes at Cole.

“The I Love You,” Cole explains, nodding between them pointedly. “Was that the first time?”

Honey blinks. She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve been betting on it for weeks,” Cole says. “If that’s the first time you’ve said I Love You, then Jack loses the bet and Quinn wins.”

Trevor scoffs. “That’s kind of funny. I wondered what those numbers on the back of the whiteboard were for.”

Honey’s jaw drops. The numbers that she noticed last week… they hadn’t meant anything to Honey, just doodles of something she assumed was hockey related. Now she gets it— it was their over/under on their relationship.

“He knows when we said I Love You for the first time,” Honey snaps incredulously, sucking her teeth. She looks out on the floor to find Jack. “He was in the room when I yelled about it to Bea.”

“Oh, cheater,” Cole complains, throwing a glance at Jack as well. He catches their gaze, then quickly pulls his brunette towards the hot tub with Luke and Emma-Kate. “That’s not fair. I thought you’d wait until the end of this year. Damn.” He whacks himself on the head gently. “I should’ve known, after all the sex dreams you had, Z. You said it first, didn’t you?”

Trevor is quick to change the subject. “So do we get a share of the money since you were betting on us?”

Honey turns to Trevor, on a completely separate page. “You had sex dreams about me?”

Trevor flushes red. 

“Oh yeah,” Cole laughs. “Why do you think he wanted to fuck you so bad on the boat on the Fourth of July?”

Honey cackles, throwing her head back. She smushes Trevor’s cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re such a boy. Sex dreams…”

Trevor groans in the back of his throat and takes Honey’s hand. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Honey laughs again at his bizarre slang. Even though it’s a relatively common phrase, she somehow never expected to hear Trevor say it.

They go upstairs to his room, deserting the party and getting ready for bed. Trevor does his best to keep his hands on Honey as they change into their pajamas, brush their teeth, wash their faces, and climb into bed. Honey left her phone downstairs to keep playing the music, but she’s sure Bea will grab it when the party wraps up. She can still hear the music playing and some people chatting outside, their voices floating up over Trevor’s balcony and seeping through the sliding glass door, muffled to something intelligible.

They lay there, Honey pulled halfway onto Trevor’s chest so that she can listen to his heartbeat, for a while before dozing off. Honey almost falls asleep in Trevor’s arms, hearing him drone on and on about something that she stopped listening to a long time ago, when Quinn opens Trevor’s door without knocking. He’s lucky that they’re not in a compromising position. Honey is lucky that he’s not catching them in a compromising position– that would be humiliating.

“Honey,” Quinn says breathlessly. He stares at her and runs his fingers through his hair.

Honey sits up from where she was tucked against Trevor’s body. “What?” She asks. She's never seen Quinn like this, all flushed and frantic.

“It’s Bea, I don't know what to do,” Quinn tells her, tugging at his t-shirt anxiously. “Can you come?”

The fact that Honey is just in one of Trevor's big shirts and her panties doesn’t matter anymore. She has left Trevor’s side in a flash and goes down the hall ahead of Quinn, throwing his bedroom door open and not caring that it bangs off the wall. Bea is sitting in Quinn’s bed, wrapped in the sheets, face buried in her hands. 

“What happened?” Honey behests in a sharp voice, talking to Quinn while approaching the bed and brushing Bea’s hair with her fingers. 

“Just–” Quinn starts, but Bea’s voice leaks through the cracks of her fingers and Honey tunes the man out automatically, wanting to hear Bea’s side.

“It’s just not fair,” Bea whimpers. “How can it be like this and it still won’t work?”

“It can work,” Quinn insists. “Bea, I told you, we don’t have to–”

Bea’s shoulders start to shake and Honey wraps her arms around her. She narrows her eyes at Quinn. “You’re upsetting her,” she says. “You knew what you were getting into from the jump.”

“But I–” Quinn argues.

“No,” Honey states. She flashes him a look. “Quinn.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he says in a softer voice, directing his words at Bea. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Bea lifts her head and eyes Quinn. It takes a moment, but she nods. 

“Are you sure?” Honey asks, wiping a tear off of Bea’s cheek. 

“We have to talk,” Bea says. “We… we have to talk.”

Honey nods slowly. “Okay,” she says tentatively. “Let’s go to Trev’s room.”

Still wrapped in Quinn’s sheet, they walk down the hall and go into Trevor’s bathroom. Honey gives Bea the shirt that she was wearing so that she can cover up, then goes back into Trevor’s room to grab a new one. She returns to Bea only seconds later and locks the bathroom door behind them.

“What happened?” Honey asks again after sitting in complete silence on the ledge of the jacuzzi for five minutes.

Bea takes a deep breath and scrubs her hands over her face. “Breakup sex,” she explains. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“But you wanted to,” Honey checks. “It wasn’t, like–”

Bea’s eyes grow wide. “God, no! No, Quinn wouldn’t do that. It was consensual for both of us and it was good sex, just sad, and I was overwhelmed afterward.”

Honey pinches her lips together, evaluating Bea. After a beat, she says, “You told him.”

Bea chews on a hangnail and avoids Honey’s eyes.

“Bea, look at me,” Honey says, then waits for her to do so. “You told him that you love him.”

Bea holds eye contact, then surveys the tile floor of the bathroom. Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “I shouldn’t have.”

Honey takes in a breath. “Bea…”

“Do you want to look into therapists with me tomorrow?” Bea asks, laughing lightly. She’s still got a sheen of tears in her eyes, but her question is genuine.

Honey lets a silence fall between them again, holding eye contact with Bea. She doesn’t know what to think, really. Honey thinks that Bea should go for it with Quinn, since they both care so much and are so happy when they’re together. They should see if they can make it. It’s the unknown and the chance that something could go wrong that Bea is afraid of, and Honey gets that. She feels the same way, but Bea is so dedicated to the things she cares about. If she wanted to commit to Quinn, they would make it, and if they don’t, at least they tried.

“I’ll see if Dr. Harris does online appointments,” Honey eventually agrees, referring to the therapist she used to see in Charlotte after Thomas leaked her nudes to the public. “We need to get these commitment issues in check, Bea. I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to be with Quinn, if that’s what you want.”

Bea’s smile is rueful. “That won’t happen,” Bea repeats for the umpteenth time. “If the Quinn thing wasn’t over before, it definitely is now. Crying after your ex-boyfriend just came inside you isn’t a very appealing thing.”

Honey covers her face. She’s at a loss for words. “Alright.”

Bea lets out a chuckle, but it trails off. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to him tomorrow.”

“Try not to have breakup sex again,” Honey suggests.

“Well, yes,” Bea agrees. “That… that probably wasn’t one of my better ideas. He’s just– I mean, you know how you kept thinking that you wanted Trevor, and then took it back, and the cycle kept repeating? Right at the beginning of the summer?”

Honey cringes. That seems so stupid, now. She was overthinking so much and it made her so anxious. “Yeah.”

“I just can’t stay away from Q,” Bea sighs. She forms the words slowly in her mouth. “I… love him.”

“I know,” Honey affirms. She offers a small smile at Bea, which the girl returns. “I’m here for you.”

“Wanna have a sleepover?” Bea asks, sounding almost like when they were children trying to scheme their parents into letting them spend more time together.

“Do we have to choreograph a dance to convince Trevor?” Honey teases.

“I think if you bat your eyelashes at him, he’ll agree.” Bea smiles and wipes her eyes one final time, some enthusiasm returning to her body.

Honey huffs out a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promises, standing and leaving the bathroom to ask Trevor for a sleepover.

Like Bea said, batting her eyelashes worked– plus a pouted bottom lip and a giggly “please.” All three of them sleep in Trevor’s king-sized bed that night, which might be the funniest thing Honey and Bea have ever done.

89:90 – TREVOR

Trevor’s final task of the day is to clean out the fridge. They split the house up into different areas for cleaning, although Jack is going to do the final run-though since he’s the neatest of all of them. Cole cleaned his room and the basement, Luke cleaned the bunk-bed room and the living room and balconies, Jack took his room and the hallways and stairwells and did a sweep of the outside, and Quinn had to do his room and the bathrooms. Trevor was left with his room, the kitchen, and the dining room. It was fair enough. 

Looking into the fridge, though, Trevor is intimidated by his final task. It’s no secret that the boys love to eat. They’re all in their early 20s, with Quinn finally turning 25 just next month and entering those frightening mid-20s where his frontal lobe will fully develop. Luke is a moose, the youngest of them and yet able to put away the most food, but the state of the fridge reflects all of their hunger and diet. 

Even though they’re leaving tomorrow, the fridge is still stuffed with food. There’s eggs and greek yogurt and a bunch of different kinds of cheese. They’ve got two gallons of milk on one of the shelves, one unopened and one half-drunk, which they’ve been throwing in protein shakes and fruity smoothies all summer. There are a couple of BlenderBottles near the milk, storing drinks that the guys never quite finished, and Trevor wilts at the idea of cleaning them out, not knowing how long they’ve been in there. 

Quinn has a bunch of uneaten meals he prepped last weekend, with quinoa and brown rise and whatever kind of meat he threw into the bowl that day. There’s chicken and turkey stuffed away in massive ziplock bags for the guys to take out and throw onto a sandwich or into a wrap whenever they feel like. There’s a tupperware of lean ground beef from when Luke made tacos a few days ago, which he’s been slowly picking at. They have stacks of boxes of cold cuts for sandwiches, none of which they’ll be able to finish. It’s a waste. Trevor realizes that they should’ve started thinking about how much food they have last week– and trying to eat it all until there’s nothing left by the end of the week– but they didn’t. Plus, they’ve got all the leftover food from the party last night, and a bunch of loose cans and bottles of beer on the next shelf, taking up space.

The boxes for veggies and fruits are no better. Quinn bought a bunch of vegetables for his salads and bowls– carrots, celery, cucumber, peppers, spinach, kale, lettuce, avocado… it’s a nightmare. Trevor doesn’t even know how they all fit into the bin. The next one with their fruit for smoothies is no better, packed to the brim, and there’s a thing of hummus sitting atop the carton of blueberries. It doesn’t belong there, but Trevor guesses that there was just no room anywhere else.

The shelves on the doors house a bunch of items that he can probably leave in the rental house for the owners to decide their fate. It’s a bunch of sauces, vingaigrettes and salad dressings, a jar of pickles and a couple of jars of jam, ketchup, mustard, and mayo. In a plastic cup, they’ve got a bunch of packets of soy sauce that came with the Chinese food they ordered months ago, and Trevor isn’t even sure you’re supposed to refrigerate soy sauce packets. He’s pretty sure those could’ve stayed in the pantry.

He wishes he could throw the meat and the fruit in the freezer, although that would only keep it fresh for so long, but the freezer is equally stuffed with items. Trevor won’t mess with any of that– the owners can eat the frozen pizzas or the frozen chicken and he doesn’t have to worry about that. It might be nice to come back to a relatively full freezer, knowing that you won’t have to go and buy more stuff anytime soon. Plus, the frozen food won’t go bad. It’ll be fine.

He kind of wishes that Honey had told him about the surprise party, although he loved how surprising it was. He wore his sweater from Scarlett this morning until it got too hot to wear in the August heat. If he’d known, he could’ve asked her to tell the people to use the items in their fridge. He’s sure that the ladies could’ve whipped something up with the random and nutritious items in their kitchen. At their base, the food doesn’t make for “party food,” but Trevor has faith in the ladies. They’ve attended decades of church potlucks and homecomings and can make something out of nothing, like grandmother magic. 

Ugh. But now he has to clean.

His only consolation is that Honey and Bea are coming over for dinner tonight, so they’ll be able to put away two more servings of food than if it was just the boys in the house. Unfortunately, Bea won’t be able to help Trevor toss food in the trash since she’s supposed to have a big conversation with Quinn– they’re still not going to stay together when the boys leave, to Trevor’s knowledge– but Honey will be around to help. He gets to spend more time with his girlfriend doing domestic things. This must be where the phrase ‘domestic bliss’ comes from.

He’s not looking forward to the months that he’ll endure without seeing Honey in person. His game schedule came out a little while ago, back in July, and he’s been trying to pinpoint which games Honey might want to come to. At the very earliest, he could see her at the end of October, when he plays in Jersey for the first time this season. He thinks that she, and Bea if she wants to come, might get a kick out of seeing Trevor and Jack and Luke on the ice together. Quinn comes to California in the first week of November, so maybe she’d want to come to that. She could come to Montréal with him in early December to face off with Cole, but Trevor doesn’t know if Honey has a passport. He needs to ask before he gets tickets for her. He’ll definitely see her over Christmas, since he promised to see her parents again over the holidays, and he’d love to spend New Year’s together. The Devils play in California on the last day of the year, so they could spend that time together. At the very latest, Trevor will see her January 12th when he plays in Raleigh for the first time this season.

If it takes that long to see Honey, they would spend about five months apart. Trevor detests that. He sees what his teammates mean now when they talk about how it’s hard to be apart from their girlfriends and wives and families.

They play the Canes again in March, but in Anaheim. Trevor will certainly ask Honey to come out for that one. Who knows, she might become a die-hard Canes fan now that she has a reason to pay attention to hockey. Her parents are big NC State fans, having both gone there– and wanting their daughter to continue the tradition– so the family has a stake in Raleigh. If Honey doesn’t learn to love the Ducks for her boyfriend, because of her hatred of California, then she ought to become a fan of her hometown team. 

Who knows? Maybe, a couple of years down the line, if Honey isn’t willing to move to California with Trevor… he’ll try to broker a deal with the Canes and get a trade. He’ll be a free agent again in 2026. Anything is possible.

Trevor closes the fridge and takes a lap around the kitchen. Once he makes it back in front of the refrigerator, there’s nothing left to do but open the doors. 

He takes another lap.

He rolls his neck back, trying to crack it the next time he makes it in front of the fridge. He jumps up and down and stretches his body, focusing on his arms and shoulders. Trevor isn’t exactly sure why he’s so intimidated by the idea of cleaning out this fridge, but he is. He lets out three quick, harsh breaths, and sets his hands on the door handles.

“Why are you so weird?”

Trevor jumps, his shoulders flying up towards his earlobes. “Jesus,” he curses. “You can’t fucking sneak up on me like that, Bea.”

She’s got a perturbed look on her face, looking at him judgmentally. Her hair is in two messy braids on either side of her face, sunglasses sat atop her head and keeping her flyaways out of her face. She squints at him. The judgment is whatever, but Trevor is more concerned with the fact that she’s alone.

“Where’s my girlfriend?” he asks.

“Our girlfriend,” Bea corrects snarkily.

“You’re not dating her,” Trevor sneers. He goes a bit farther than he’s supposed to without thinking. “You’re not dating anyone.”

Bea rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “She’s upstairs, talking to Quinn before I go up there and talk to him myself.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh,’” Bea mocks. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning out the fridge,” Trevor answers her. 

Bea makes a face. “Why?”

“Because we leave tomorrow?” Trevor sasses in the same tone.

“Don’t get rid of this shit,” Bea tells him. “I’ll take the milk and bring it to the Nook for our shitty coffee maker. Ada will take your ripe fruit, or Honey will. I’ll put the deli meat in the fridge at the Nook too, I forget to make lunch all the time and I always need to improvise with the nothingness we have. Sarah will take the rest of the unopened cheese so she can pair it with wines at tastings. Earl will take just about all of the meat you have.”

She says it so simply and Trevor stares at her. 

Bea starts to laugh. “You didn’t think about the people around you? Did you think you’d be able to throw all of this food away and get away with it? Honey would’ve killed you for wasting so much.”

Trevor scowls and looks away from the girl, focusing his attention on the refrigerator again. 

“Come on, Trevor, don’t be a pouty baby,” Bea giggles. “At least you don’t have to be the shame of Litchton, throwing away all of your groceries like the spoiled, rich, professional athlete you are.”

“You’re kind of a bitch,” Trevor tells her. 

Bea shrugs. “I don’t have to take the food if you don’t want me to.”

His scowl turns into a glower. “You can’t take it back now.”

Bea smirks to herself and watches as Trevor opens the fridge and starts to sort through all of the old protein shakes and fruit smoothies that need to be removed. Trevor sees her perk up in the corner of his eye and she steps forward, reaching past him and grabbing a slender aluminum can and sets it on the counter. “You might want to keep that for yourself.” She’s got a stupid little smile on her face.

Trevor shoos her away and snatches the bottle back, moving it to the counter on the other side of the fridge. He sneaks a peek at it when Bea has dropped onto the couch in the living room and thrown her feet up on the freshly-cleaned table. He rolls his eyes– it’s the can of Reddi-Whip Cole bought last week after Vera gave him a peach cobbler for his help with inventory on Tuesday. Bea thinks she’s hilarious.

“He’s ready for you,” Honey’s voice says, floating down the hallway. Bea jumps up from the couch and goes down the hall, seeming to stop in front of Honey so that she can add, “Don’t have breakup sex with him again.”

Trevor snorts and closes the fridge door on his head as best he can to hide his laughter. Honey nudges his knee forward until it buckles once she nears Trevor, a reproachful frown on her face. “Don’t laugh at her. Things are hard.”

That’s what she said. Trevor sucks on his teeth and makes eye contact with Honey, trying not to laugh even more. 

She moves like she’s about to bop him in the balls, so Trevor instinctively covers his junk with his hands and distances himself from Honey. She scoffs a laugh and takes his spot in front of the fridge. “What are we making for dinner?”

Trevor takes it as an invitation and plasters himself to Honey’s back, pressing his soft cock against her behind. “I dunno,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I know what dessert is, though.”

Honey makes a surprised sound that comes out more like a squawk, mouth dropping open and body squirming in Trevor’s arms. “You horny motherfucker,” she rebukes.

Trevor tightens his grip and laughs under his breath, weaseling his way closer to Honey and kissing her neck. “It’ll be fun. C’mon, sweet girl, I leave tomorrow. I need to have you in my bed after dinner.”

She rolls her eyes but goes lax in Trevor’s grip. “Well, when you put it that way,” she concedes sarcastically. Her hand comes up to Trevor’s hair, scratching his scalp, and he hums into her pulse point, leaving peck after peck on the beating vein. “Let’s get this fridge fixed and make some dinner, then we can do… something sweet.”

Trevor is too busy hearing the consent from Honey to fuck all night to hear the lightbulb going off above her head. He’s smiling into her shoulder.

Honey is good at organizing– Trevor has said it before, but he has to repeat it now. She manages the refrigerator so well, creating sections for each person that will receive the food. Honey says that she’ll borrow Earl’s truck tomorrow and his big cooler to store the food, trucking a load to the Nook while the boys pack the cars. She promises that she’ll be back by the time Trevor leaves, not that he’d leave without putting off the goodbye as long as he can. 

He really has to leave by 11, since that’s when checkout is, but Trevor might have to get lunch with Honey if Cole allows him to. He’s flying out of D.C. pretty late, around 9 o’clock, and it’s about a six and a half hour drive. Surely he’d be okay with grabbing lunch. It’ll be tight, but they can make it with time to spare. In his heart, Trevor knows that lunch is unlikely, but he’s trying to convince himself that it can work logistically. 

Honey gives him all of the used dishes to clean while she handles the food, until there’s nothing left for Trevor to do but help. Even then, she hands him leftovers to dig into and finish off before she trusts him with sorting items in her system. Trevor doesn’t mind– he’s not as bottomless as Luke, but he can put away a good chunk of a buffet.

Bea and Quinn join Honey and Trevor downstairs as they finish sorting food. Trevor manages to read the room this time and he shares a look with Honey. There’s a thick tension between Bea and Quinn, but they’re shouldering their way through it. Trevor catches both of them casually touching each other as the foursome moves around the kitchen to prepare dinner. There’s a hand on the small of Bea’s back to squeeze behind her and a hand on Quinn’s bicep when Bea leans past him to grab a knife from the block to chop up a cucumber for the salad. They must’ve come to some conclusion– or a middle-ground that worked better for them than the original breakup on Tuesday.

The boys wander into the kitchen at different intervals. By the time dinner is served, they’re all cramped together in the tiny space and chatting like this isn’t the last time they’ll have a night like this for… who knows how long.

It’s bittersweet. While Trevor is having the time of his life eating pounds and pounds of food with his best friends, his girlfriend, and Bea, he’s also anxious to go upstairs. Honey is in no rush to leave the table. 

They sit there for hours, long after the food has gone cold. They continue eating this whole time and manage to get rid of a lot of the food Trevor was stressing about. Honey holds his hand on top of the table and strokes the back of his fingers with her thumb. 

The guys and Bea leave Honey and Trevor to clean up the kitchen again after cooking and eating– “The kitchen was your realm, dude, why should we have to clean up your shit?” was their argument– and they go downstairs to watch a movie in the basement. 

Honey sits on the counter and kicks her feet, watching Trevor dry the dishes and put them away. When he’s done, and about to grab a beer from their supply, Honey beckons Trevor over. “C’mere, Trev,” she requests, leaning forward to kiss him when he steps between her legs. Her hands fist in the hem of his shirt, tugging. “You should take this off.”

Trevor’s stomach swoops. “Yeah?” He lets his hand trail along the neckline Honey’s tank top, caressing the soft skin of her breasts. 

“I had a funny idea,” Honey divulges sneakily. 

“Mm, that sounds fun,” Trevor hums. He slides his left hand down to palm Honey’s tit and gives it a squeeze.

She laughs. “I didn’t even tell you what it is yet,” she says.

“All I know is that you want me to take my shirt off and we’re kissing,” Trevor says. “No matter what your idea is, it’ll be fun.”

Honey mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘horndog’ before taking things into her own hands and pulling Trevor’s shirt up and over his head. Her hands brush over his bare skin, fingers dancing along the tattoo on his ribs before her thumb brushes his nipple. One of her hands leaves him, but Trevor is shivering from the gentle touch on his chest.

Her tongue is flat against his and Trevor moans before there’s a hissing sound and something cool touches Trevor’s stomach.

He pulls back from Honey and looks down, starting to laugh breathlessly when he sees the dollop of whipped cream on his sternum. “That is a funny idea,” Trevor says. “But I think you already had your chance to cover me in whipped cream.”

“So long ago,” Honey points out. She juts out her bottom lip and blinks innocently at Trevor. “You don’t want me to put a little cream on the tip of your dick and lick it off?”

Trevor is bombarded by an image of Honey on her knees, cheeks hollowed and lips wrapped around his cock. He struggles to wade through it and make it back to reality. “That’s… after my turn,” he stammers.

Honey pouts deepens, but Trevor will not fall for this. When Honey first licked whipped cream off of his body on Cole’s dare, the images of that plagued Trevor for days. He thought of all the ways he could get her back and now that he has the chance, he wants to make it even. He takes the can of whip from her hand and takes the appendage with his other, helping Honey off the counter and leading her upstairs.

“Get strippin’, Charlotte,” Trevor jokingly commands once he has his bedroom door locked behind them. He leans back against the wood and sprays a mouthful of whipped cream onto his tongue, swallowing the sweet treat as he watches her bite her tongue and drag her tank top up her body. She pops the button of her daisy dukes and lets them drop to the floor, stepping out of them and marching over to Trevor.

She kisses him against the door, her fingertips digging into his waistband like they did all of those weeks ago. “Don’t call me that,” she tells him after kissing him stupid. 

Trevor’s head is hazy from the movement of her lips, so he nods an agreement before she even finishes talking. 

Honey walks backward, pulling Trevor forward by the fabric around his abdomen, and kisses him over and over. 

Trevor can smell vanilla, Honey’s signature scent, on her skin and can almost taste cherries on her lips. He shakes the can of whipped cream absently, his palm splayed over the tattoo above Honey’s behind. He should cover that in whipped cream. 

It’s tempting, but he has something else he’d rather cover in the delicate white dessert. Her nipple piercings have been healed for years, and she once licked this stuff off of his nipples, and he wants to repay the favor. It’s his first order of business, actually. 

He goes down with Honey when she settles onto the bed, laying on her back. Trevor parts her lips with his tongue and nibbles on her bottom lip, making sure there’s not a part of her mouth that he hasn’t explored before he pulls away and tries to decide what pattern he wants to draw on Honey’s body.

He must take too long, since Honey opens her mouth and resumes her normal sassy, borderline bratty bossiness. “Maybe we should do my idea first, since you can’t seem to think of anyth–”

Trevor leans over her and sprays a mouthful of whip onto her tongue. “Quiet, you.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Honey replies, a little muffled. She swallows and licks some whip off of her upper lip. 

Trevor takes to decorating her body before she can tell him to hurry up again. He draws two arches over her breasts, then laughs to himself and connects the arches to make a heart, the base of which reaches her belly button. He draws two eyes on the heart– two dollops of the white substance on her nipples– and a curved line that is the heart’s smile. He adds two little legs to the heart and sprays a line above Honey’s waistband, creating a ground for the heart to stand on. 

Honey watches him with a tiny smile on her face, fond and sweet. “You’re a goof,” she eventually says when Trevor places the can on his nightstand. 

“I’m an artist,” Trevor corrects. He carefully makes his way on top of Honey, trying not to ruin his masterpiece before he can lick it away. He decides to start with the heart’s smile, sucking up the treat there as a precursor to the more erotic zones he decided to cover. 

Honey laughs when he moves to the heart’s legs, bracketing the pudge on her stomach that he likes to rest his head on so much when she sits on the couch and reads a book. “That tickles,” she tells Trevor. 

He digs his fingers into her sides at that, making her squirm and giggle. All the while, he continues licking the cream away.

His tongue trails along her hips, dangerously close to her pussy, cleaning up the line that he placed there. Honey’s breath gets a bit deeper when he laps at her skin so far south, yet too north for her liking. He can tell that she’s feeling it, understanding how sexy it was when she did this to him at the beginning of the summer, just because of the way her squirming morphs into something more subtle and needy. 

He ignores the twitch of her hips upward, just placing a hand on her hip and holding her down with gentle pressure. He goes back up to the body of the heart, kissing just below Honey’s belly button before licking up the left side of the heart. He goes up her torso, around her boobs, forcing himself not to indulge in the dots on her tits just yet, and back down to where he started. 

Slowly, achingly slow, Trevor kisses the middle of Honey’s stomach, up the line between her boobs, and to her clavicle. His thumbs rise from her waist and hip to her ribs, pressing into the thin skin mere millimeters from the curves of her breasts. 

“Gonna fuck you after I finish cleaning you up,” Trevor tells her. 

“Hm, you’d better,” Honey muses. “Feels like I’m about to explode, Trev.”

“Imagine how I felt after you left me hanging,” Trevor teases. 

“You rubbed yourself raw, didn’t you?” Honey asks.

Trevor laughs and nips at her neck. “Mean.”

“But true?”

“Mean,” Trevor repeats.

“Definitely true.”

He doesn’t respond, although she’s on the right track. If the boys hadn’t been on stakeout after the dare, he probably would’ve jerked it until his dick fell off. That’s how hot it was when she dropped to her knees and made her way up his body. Instead of answering Honey, Trevor hovers with his mouth just above one of her nipples. He flicks his tongue and takes off the top of the dollop of whipped cream, avoiding contact with Honey’s peaks. He does the same thing to the other, waiting to hear Honey open her mouth to tell him what to do before he covers her nipple with his mouth and damn near bites down, sucking and licking all the whipped cream off of her sensitive skin until there’s nothing but sweetened saliva cooling against her piercings. Even after cleaning both of her nipples off until they’re pristine again, Trevor alternates between them, showering them with attention and hearing Honey grow louder and louder each time he bites down.

“Trev, get your cock inside me,” Honey requests, twirling his hair around her fingers and stroking his neck. She stifles a snort, although Trevor hears it anyway. “Put your cream inside me.”

Trevor muffles his own laughter in her neck. “Good one,” he tells Honey sarcastically. “Very sexy.”

Honey giggles and scratches her nails down Trevor’s back. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Totally.” Trevor nods in an overexaggerated way. He throws himself down on the bed next to Honey, laying on his back and lifting his hips to pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Honey rolls onto her side and pushes herself up onto her elbows, kissing the side of Trevor’s face before throwing her leg over his lap and straddling him. 

“Ooh,” Trevor muses, bringing his hands to Honey’s behind and palming her asscheeks. “You gonna ride me?”

“Just for the first round,” Honey replies. “Then I’m laying down and you get to do all the work.”

Trevor’s retort fails to sound from his mouth when Honey rolls her hips against his, her wet folds molding around the length of Trevor’s cock. His eyes probably grow bigger from the spark that ignites in his belly when her entrance drags along the ridges of his shaft. 

“You look pretty like this,” Honey compliments. She plants her hands on his stomach and grinds down again. “Under me.”

“You look prettier under me,” Trevor one-ups her, digging his fingers into her ass and spreading the cheeks. He bucks his hips up and makes sure his cockhead brushes her swollen clit. “But I love how you look on top.”

“You like seeing my boobs bounce.”

Trevor grins, showing his teeth to Honey. 

She laughs and hovers above him, wrapping a hand around Trevor’s cock and lining him up with her core. She lowers herself, biting her bottom lip and letting out a sigh as she fills herself. 

Trevor loves the weight of her body settling against him. It makes him feel even more surrounded by Honey, even more under her thumb. When she’s on top of him, the gravity of their position makes him feel so much better. Her insides are hot and gummy and Trevor can feel her slick pooling around his base once she starts to move. 

Her eye contact is insane, making Trevor squirm against the mattress. Her eyes almost affect him more than the grip her pussy has on his cock– evaluating Trevor, scrutinizing him, watching his every move. Trevor’s heartbeat only increases as she rocks her hips and milks the precum from his member. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor mumbles.

Honey lets a sweet smile pass over her face and she tilts her head. “Aren’t you a sweetheart,” she says, pinching his sides gently before leaning forward to kiss him. 

Trevor’s hands travel from her ass to her waist, her back, and her tits. He moves her hair out of her face and touches her jaw as she sucks on his bottom lip. 

“I love you,” Honey breathes into Trevor’s mouth. 

A blurt of precum travels up Trevor’s cock and leaks into Honey’s insides. He has a physical reaction to her words– he’s so down bad, but God, he wouldn’t change anything. “I love you too.”

“I’m sad you have to go,” Honey says.

“I wish I could stay with you all the time,” Trevor replies. 

“I’m glad you came.”

Trevor groans when she clenches down on his length and starts to bounce faster. “Fuck,” he grits out. “That’s what she said.”

Honey closes her eyes and rests her forehead against Trevor’s. “If I weren’t so close to coming, I’d be so mad at you for ruining this moment.”

Trevor chuckles and lifts his chin so that their lips align. He thrusts his hips up in time with Honey’s movements, trying to match her rhythm as best he can. He soaks up the sounds that Honey makes, muffled and longing for more. She’s so tight and Trevor can feel how badly she wants him to fill her up.

He doesn’t make her wait long– once her tongue fills his mouth rather than his tongue entering hers, Trevor feels his balls tighten and he can’t hold back any longer. His cum spurts from his slit, cock twitching inside Honey as his pleasure explodes inside of her. 

Honey’s hips slow and she perches atop him. Her thumb sweeps across his lower lip, cleaning it of her saliva. She smirks at Trevor and removes herself from his lap, laying against the pillows and reaching for the can of whipped cream on the nightstand. 

Trevor watches her with curious, but confused eyes. She didn’t come yet. What is she doing? He picks up his head in surprise when she turns the can of whip on herself, spraying a bit of the cream onto her pubic mound.

Honey sets the can aside and grins at Trevor, proud of herself for her idea. “Dessert?” she asks.

Trevor laughs out loud and rolls onto his stomach, between her legs, and presses a kiss to her clit before licking all of the whipped cream away. He’ll get to the other kind shortly.

90:90 – HONEY

Honey sits on the edge of the tailgate of Earl’s truck, legs swinging beneath her. The polaroids in her pocket are a dead weight, burning a hole against her side. She’s nervous to give them to Trevor, so she decided to wait until the last minute, which is approaching any second. She’s just waiting for the boys to return from their final sweep of the house, making sure they didn’t forget to pack anything, which Honey is sure they did. There’s got to be something in that massive house that one of the boys forgot. 

Bea sits next to her. She twiddles her thumbs. They’ve already done the food-drops that Honey promised yesterday, stuffing fridges full of the boys’ food. They had to use both of their bodyweights to close the fridge in the Nook, since it was filled to the brim. 

The boys have packed up both of the cars. The Hughes boys are taking the big car to Charlotte and flying out from that airport, checking their many bags and landing in Detroit sometime this afternoon. Cole and Trevor are driving to D.C. tonight, where Cole will fly out, and then Trevor will drive the rest of the way to his hometown in New York tomorrow. He’ll spend about a week there, hanging out with his family, before he heads back to Anaheim. 

They stayed up late last night, talking and making out until two in the morning. Honey just didn’t want the night to end, since it meant that Trevor would be leaving when they wake up. They showered together this morning, having one last round before Trevor goes. He’s a horndog, but Honey is just as bad. She’s about to be without her boyfriend consistently for nine months and now that she’s got sex back– and she’s enjoying it very much– it’s not fun to give up. 

The front door opens and Jack leads the way out. He has a plastic bag in hand, which holds a bit of leftover laundry. Honey bets he’s going to try and stuff it in his backpack, which really can’t fit anything else without the seams ripping. Cole has a pair of rollerskates draped over the back his neck, the laces acting like a loose scarf. 

Honey swallows hard, feeling a lump in her throat grow. It was so nice to have them here this summer. She got really close to each of the boys and she’s sad to see them go, devastated that a summer like this probably won’t ever happen again for them. Of course, Trevor plans to come back next year, but the Hughes boys will stay in Michigan and Cole might do the same. She hopes that he will come to visit, but Honey knows that Quinn won’t unless he and Bea get back together, and if Quinn won’t, then the other brothers won’t visit. It’s sad. 

Bea hops down from the tailgate and Honey follows suit. The air is heavy as the boys approach.

“So this is it,” Cole says. He’s smiling, but there’s a twinge of sadness written into the smile. He reaches for Bea and pulls her into a hug, then pulls Honey into the mix. He squeezes them tight, an arm wrapped around each of their shoulders while the girls hug his waist. “You guys are the best. If you ever want to visit Montréal…”

Honey pulls away and tweaks Cole’s cheek. “Thanks, Coley. You’re always welcome back, you know. If hockey doesn’t work out for you, I think Vera would hire you on the spot, even if Earl thinks you’re too little to work in hardware.”

Cole puffs out his chest and kisses Bea’s cheek before she reluctantly lets go of him. “Earl would be lucky to have a spring chicken like me on board.” He grows more serious. “But really,” he says. “This was a great summer. I’m glad we met you both. I don’t think we would’ve made it a month without you.”

“I don’t think you could’ve made it a week,” Honey replies and squeezes his hand one more time before he heads over to Trevor’s car, opening the trunk without all of the bags spilling out and tucking his skates away.

Luke comes up to Honey next, bending down to encircle his arms around her waist and tuck his face into the crook of her neck while he hugs her. “You have to come see us when we’re in Raleigh,” Luke says, his voice bordering on distress. 

Honey pets through Luke’s hair, relishing in the way the curls feel against her fingers. “Just send me a text and I’ll be on my way,” Honey promises. 

Luke tightens his arms around Honey’s waist. “I never had a big sister, but if I did, I think she’d be a lot like you.”

Honey just about bursts into tears on the spot. “Oh, Lukey,” she simpers miserably before hiding her face in his shoulder. “I would have loved to have a little brother like you.”

Luke exhales shakily and pulls back. He sniffs like he’s welling up, but there isn’t any mist in his eyes, unlike Honey, who is nearly spilling over. He kisses the top of Honey’s head and pats her shoulder with a clumsy hand before Jack switches places with him.

His goodbye hug is energetic, sweeping Honey off of her feet and spinning her around. “Stop crying,” he tells her. “It’s not like we’re dying. You’ll see us again, especially if you keep this idiot around.” He jerks his head in Trevor’s direction and grins widely at Honey. 

“Hey,” Trevor complains just for the principle of being annoyed, since Honey can tell there is no heat behind it. 

She chuckles and fixes Jack’s baseball cap. “I expect you’ll be texting me?”

“Every time I miss you,” Jack replies. 

“So as soon as you get in the car,” Honey teases. She tucks a strand of hair behind Jack’s ear and presses a loud smooch on his cheek. “I’ll miss you too, J.”

“We play the Canes like four times before January,” Jack says. “Once before Thanksgiving and once after Christmas. You’ll be in town for both, right?”

“‘Course I will. I never go anywhere,” Honey says. “Send me some tickets so I don’t have to pay for them and I’ll go to the game for you guys.”

“Cheap-ass,” Jack accuses. He pulls Honey in a second time and rocks back and forth on his feet, swinging them from side to side. “Thanks for being my buddy this summer.”

“You guys are all thanking me and Bea like we did anything at all,” Honey says with a crooked smile. “All we were was nice to you.”

“You didn’t have to be,” Jack tells her. He squishes her cheek. “But you were. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“Text me when you land in Michigan.” Honey offers her pinkie to Jack and he takes it with his. He kisses the tip of his thumb and tells Honey to do the same. She complies, then she lets him go. 

It seems like she and Bea have the same idea, leaving their respective boys for their last goodbye. Trevor and Bea go around the side of the truck, talking quietly, and Quinn leans against the end of the tailgate with Honey. 

They stand in silence for a few moments, aware of each others’ presence but not feeling any pressure to speak– until Quinn does.

“I’m jealous that you guys have chosen to stay together,” Quinn says quietly.

Honey sighs and takes Quinn’s right hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry that y’all aren’t.”

Quinn inhales and presses his lips together. He looks down at the ground and scuffs his shoe against the gravel in the driveway. He forces a smile onto his face and lifts Honey’s hand in his to kiss the back of it. 

Honey takes one arm and wraps it around Quinn’s waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger, Quinn,” Honey murmurs.

Quinn nods. “Love you, Honey.”

“Love you too, Quinn. You’re a really great guy. I’m glad you were Bea’s first boyfriend.” Honey pats his side and distances herself from him. “Have a safe drive.”

“Next summer, you guys should come to Michigan,” Quinn offers. “We’d love to show you our town, since you showed us yours. You can stay as long as Ada will let you.”

Honey nods. “I’ll let you know closer to that date,” Honey informs him. “But I’m sure that would be nice. You have my number. Like I told Jack, you can text or call any time you want.”

“Not sure if Bea would like that,” Quinn responds with a shrug. “But I’ll keep it in mind. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Honey chuckles. “I know too much about you to never see you again.”

Quinn has a funny look on his face, somewhere between bemused and sorrowful. He nods and pulls Honey in for a long hug, nose pressed against her hair. They stay like that until Trevor breaks it up. 

“Alright, alright,” he says with a haughty, macho tone. “Break it up. Get off my girlfriend, Hughes.” He pulls them apart with play force.

Bea stands behind him, laughing quietly. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s definitely been crying. She’s a sensitive girl, which Honey loves about her. 

Quinn notices almost immediately and goes to her, taking Bea’s hand. “Let’s get this over with,” Honey hears Quinn say. It makes Bea huff out a little laugh and they go to the side of the truck again, where Bea just was with Trevor.

Trevor touches Honey’s waist and pulls her close, their lower halves touching. “I love you,” he says earnestly. He peppers kisses over Honey’s face until she’s giggling and trying to get away from him. 

She squeals and puts her hand between their faces. “Stop,” she laughs. “I love you too. It won’t be too long before we see each other, you know. I don’t think you’ll make it a month without asking me to fly out because you miss me.”

“I’m going to injure myself on purpose so I can come back here and have you take care of me,” Trevor jokes.

Honey slaps his shoulder. “Don’t joke about that, I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says. “It would make me sad.”

Trevor’s smile softens. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you sad.” He looks at Honey for an extra beat, then cradles her face in his hands and kisses her gently.

It’s really sweet. They’ve never really kissed like this, soft, chaste, and savoring it. Honey fists the fabric of Trevor’s t-shirt in her hands, focusing on his taste and how he moves. Yeah, they probably will see each other in a month, but she will probably forget how he kisses by then. It’ll be like new when she goes to California– ugh, she has to go to California of all places to see her boyfriend because he has an intense job– and Honey can’t wait.

When his hand goes to her butt and gropes her asscheek, she breaks their kiss. 

“Come on, one last feel,” Trevor requests. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face because he knows that Honey will let him. 

“I have something better for you, you freak,” Honey tells him. She shoves her hand into her pocket and curls her fingers around the polaroids, fishing them out and pushing the stack into Trevor’s chest. 

He’s excited at the prospect of getting a gift, delight written on his face. He covers Honey’s hand, which covers the polaroids, and takes a peek at the first picture in the stack. His mouth automatically drops open and his face goes slack. He stares at the picture, looks at Honey, and doubles back down on the picture.

Honey feels a creeping shiver pass between her shoulderblades, whispering doubt into the back of her mind. You’ve given these pictures to him and it’s the start of the end, the voice purrs. Honey pushes it back, watching Trevor’s reaction instead. He’s terrible at hiding things on his face and Honey believes that if he’s going to abuse the boudoir pictures she just gave him, she’ll be able to see it in his expression.

“Holy shit, Hon,” Trevor says. He shoves the pictures back into her hands. “I can’t take these. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

It’s not the reaction Honey expected. She furrows her eyebrows together and asks genuinely, “Do you not… like them?”

Trevor’s eyes are wide. “No, God, no, you look so good and I like them, like, a lot, but because of what happened with Thomas–”

“Oh,” Honey says. “It’s– I wanted to show you that I trust you,” she explains. She pushes the pictures back at him. “I made them for you, I want you to have them.”

“I don’t,” Trevor struggles to say what he means, it seems. He looks at the pictures again, unable to help it, and lifts his eyes to the sky. He hides the pictures against his chest. “I don’t need them, if that’s what you think.”

“No.” Honey puts her hands on Trevor’s lovehandles and kisses him. “I want you to take them. They’re yours. Please take them.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, but weighs her words in his mind. After a moment, he shoves the pictures in his shorts pocket and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “You’re so special to me, Honey.”

“You’re overwhelming,” Honey replies, unable to find a word to describe how she feels about Trevor except for ‘overwhelming.’ He is. It’s not a bad thing, not at all. Honey adores Trevor.

Trevor’s mouth touches Honey’s forehead and stays there. She burrows her nose against his clavicle and breathes in deep. 

Trevor’s car horn sounds twice by Cole’s hand.

Trevor takes a deep breath and sighs. “I have to go,” he whispers.

Honey loosens her grip around his middle and kisses him one more time. “I’ll see you soon.”

It feels momentous when Trevor lets go of her and steps away. She’s not crying, but she feels like she could start any second. 

Bea joins Honey at the top of the driveway. Trevor’s car leads, honking far too jubilantly for the sadness weaving between Honey and Bea’s bodies like a cat brushing against their legs. The Hughes boys’ car follows after, and then they’re gone. Honey still feels their presence like a ghost, even as she and Bea push up the tailgate of Earl’s truck and head out themselves.

EPILOGUE – TREVOR

He thinks about her all the time. California is warm, but Trevor finds himself wearing Scarlett’s mismatched sweater more days than he doesn’t. It’s comfortable, and for a while, it smells like Litchton. He sits on his ugly couch, the one that Colangelo and McTavish make fun of, and watches the sunset through the windows of his house. It becomes a familiar routine. It’s usually too late to call Honey once he gets back from games since she’s three hours ahead, so Trevor finds other ways to express the things he wants to say to her. He’d text them, but that’s too brazen– he wants to speak to Honey and then let the words disappear forever. 

So, he sends letters. Out of sight, out of mind– once the letter leaves Trevor’s hand and makes its way into his mail carrier’s bag, the words are gone. It’s intimate and Honey has told Trevor many times over how much she likes receiving his letters, so much more than if she received the same thoughts over the phone. She always sends something back in a colorful envelope and Trevor traces her handwriting when he really misses her. 

With her permission, he’d included her in his summer dump on Instagram. He saw a few comments wondering who she and the other girl were, “the other girl” being Bea, but he never saw anything mean. He’d have exhausted all of his resources to hunt down any cyberbully who decided to take out their own insecurity on his girlfriend. He’d reported back his findings dutifully, telling Honey that everyone thought she was so pretty and out of his league. Honey had agreed.

Trevor had dutifully reported on summer dumps two other times: when Jack included the picture that Earl took of them at the going away party, Bea slung over his shoulder, and when Quinn quietly included a picture of Bea asleep on the couch in the basement, her hand wrapped loosely around his first two fingers. Her face was mostly obscured, but Trevor wasn’t sure if he should say something or not, so he’d asked Honey. Her face had gotten stormy– which was pretty cute, if Trevor is allowed to say that– but the picture had stayed up. Trevor is sure Honey and Bea handled it and he has a feeling that Bea might’ve felt a semblance of nostalgia when he’d screenshotted and sent the photo to her when she asked. They’re still broken up and not talking, but Trevor doesn’t know how long they can hold out. Honey says that Bea misses Quinn badly, but she’s still too stubborn to do anything. Trevor knows that Quinn is too stubborn to go against Bea’s wishes.

About a month into the season, Trevor wears the sweater to a game. Honey still hasn’t made it out to visit yet and Trevor is getting restless. He has a great game– greater than great– so it’s no surprise that he’s pulled for media after he showers and gets dressed, pulling the sweater on once again. 

Aly, the rinkside reporter, pulls him aside for a more one-on-one chat. Trevor expects that it’ll get clipped and thrown on the Ducks’ socials. They get all the way through the interview before she asks about his fashion choice. “This sweater is clearly handmade, so chic,” she adds on the side. “Where did you get it?”

“A friend made it for me,” Trevor replies. “This summer. It was a going away present, actually.”

“Well, it was a real good luck charm here tonight. You got your first career hat trick– do you think this luck will continue for you for the rest of the season?”

Trevor nods, only half-listening. He just caught a whiff of bonfire from the sweater, a scent memory that is accompanied by the creaking trees that shaded his balcony from wandering eyes. They didn’t make enough use of it. “I hope so,” he tells Aly. 

“It’s a wonderful start, given the rut you fell into last season after your injury. What are you doing differently?”

Trevor tries not to balk at the blatant mention of his broken ankle, the Jamie trade, and his struggles to come back from those events. He rubs his right eye with a closed fist and forces a tight smile on his face, speaking more honestly than he normally allows himself to. “I told my girlfriend that every goal I score this season is for her, so I have to score a lot. Keep me on her mind, you know?”

Aly chuckles. “You’ve got to find motivation somewhere,” she says good-naturedly. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“Yeah, thanks, Aly,” he replies. He walks back into the locker room, ready to grab his bag and his keys and book it out of the arena so that he can crash on his bed, when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He slips it out, catching his favorite contact name on the screen. He can hear the eye roll as if she’s talking to him, right next to his ear.

🍯:

Don’t fucking bring me into thisI don’t want crowds of famous Trevor Zegras’ hockey groupies in Litchton when you come back next summer

Then, a few minutes later:

Nice sweater ;)

THANK YOU FOR READING!!! I LOVE YOU!!!! XO, ANDY P.S. See you in Beaquinn's book ;)

[lovelynim]

2 centimeters

Squealing Santa 2023 Genshin Impact - Kaeya & Diluc

A/N: Merry Christmas, Mango-anon! That's right, I'm your @squealing-santa this year!

Heheh, isn't it funny that we changed the roles? After getting a gift from you in last year's SS, I tried to come up with something just as special - hopefully I made it up to your expectations!

Also, I couldn't find any canon info about the characters' height, so let's just go along with this one, yeah?

I just want to wish you a happy holiday season and thank @hypahticklish for hosting the event again!

Summary: When you are decorating the place, 2 cm can make a lot of difference.

Word count: 1338 words

“I think I remember this one, brother,” Kaeya chirped happily as he gently pulled another decoration from inside that old chest. Pinching the string that was attached to the toy to hold it up to his line of sight, Kaeya admired the golden, star-shaped object as it brought him some old memories from his childhood. “Hah, last time I saw this one, we still-”

“Care to do something other than reminiscing?” Diluc interrupted, with a frown on his face. Letting out an audible grunt, the redheaded dropped another box on top of the counter - also full of decorations.

By the end of the year, the people of Mondstadt had the tradition of decorating their houses to celebrate the arrival of winter and to cherish the moments they had together throughout that year. At least, most of the people did it.

Diluc wasn’t sure when it was the last time he had bothered to do something like this. He was even more clueless about why he decided to do it this time. Maybe his change of heart had something to do with the traveler or the latest events? Maybe after spending so much time with that spoiled bard was, at last, affecting him? Maybe was he sick? Diluc didn’t know - and did it really matter at this point? He looked to the side, spotting Kaeya’s smug, amused glance at him. Diluc rolled his eyes.

“My, of course, brother. I just couldn’t help myself… All the sweet memories coming back to my mind,” Kaeya mused poetically - mostly to annoy his brother even further. “I’m sure the winery will look just as lovely when we are done decorating it.”

Kaeya quickly got back to his feet, starting to hang a few garlands near the entrance, adding the ones that resembled small berries and snow flakes to enhance the composition even further. The captain smiled, proud of his work. “What do you think, Diluc?” Kaeya sighed proudly, placing his hands over his hips as he admired the results of his efforts.

However, as more seconds passed by and there was no sign of answers from his dear brother, Kaeya repeated himself, this time also looking back. “Diluc? What do you… think…”

“Just- agh, just a second,” Diluc grunted, gritting his teeth and stretching his arm as high as he could. Standing on the tip of his toes and leaning against the shelves, Diluc tried to place a bright, golden star on top of a tree - a spot that was clearly out of his reach.

Kaeya scoffed quietly, surprised that his brother would find such difficulties in such a simple task. “Do you need a hand? I could lift you if you want-”

“Shut it,” Diluc groaned, planting his heels back into the ground - and if looks could kill, Kaeya would’ve been sent to Celestia right at that moment. Diluc, already having his patience running short, looked at Kaeya’s work.

His eyes, despite all the charming decorations, focused on a garland that hung right in the middle of the composition. Diluc did the math inside his head and that thing was standing almost as high as the tip of the tree and, with no stairs or chairs around, it seemed that Kaeya managed to reach that spot effortlessly. Diluc felt that sight leaving a scratch on his ego. “Yeah, it’s decent I think,” Diluc huffed.

“Decent? Well, it’s still a compliment from you, I suppose, so I’ll assume I did a good job,” Kaeya crossed his arms, with a smug look on his face. The captain looked around and, after a few hours of work, they were almost done with the winery’s decoration: all that was left was the golden star in Diluc’s hand. “Let me finish that for you, brother.”

“What?” Diluc arched his eyebrow, turning his attention back to Kaeya.

“I said: let me finish that for you,” Kaeya repeated while approaching Diluc, reaching out his hand, waiting for the star to be handed to him.

“There is no need, I can do it myself,” Diluc narrowed his eyes and Kaeya chuckled. “What’s so funny?” The winery’s master muttered, getting back on the tip of his toes as he tried to reach the top of the tree.

“How tall are you?”

“W-what?” Diluc gasped, feeling a faint heat taking place in his hands. “What’s with this all of the sudden?” The reddish tones began to take a brighter shade around the tip of Diluc’s ears, almost matching his hairtone.

“Just curiosity,” Kaeya giggled, standing by Diluc’s side. Kaeya placed a hand over the top of his own head and moved it, hovering it just a couple of centimeters above Diluc’s. “Oh, I’m taller, indeed. I never noticed you were the smaller one…”

“S-so?” Diluc sighed annoyed, getting even angrier when he saw the way Kaeya looked at him. “It’s just… what? 2 centimeters? It’s not that much of a difference, it might even be thanks to the heels of your boots.”

“Well, brother, you see, 2 centimeters can make a lot of difference,” Kaeya teased, looking up to the tip of the tree. “Come on, let me help you ~”

“I don’t need your help,” Diluc insisted, determined to shut his brother by placing that damned star on top of the tree.

“Suit yourself.”

Kaeya watched carefully as Diluc tried to reach that spot again, holding the golden star with the tip of his fingers, barely keeping a hold on it. Almost there… so close… 

“G-gah!” Diluc squeaked when he felt a pair of hands holding him by his waist. He felt another electric shock spread across his body when fingers dug into the spot - with just enough pressure so they could get a grip on his body.

“Q-quit squirming, you’re kind of heavy, you know?” Kaeya grunted, nearly getting hit by a flailing limb. With some effort, Kaeya managed to lift Diluc, getting him high enough so he could reach the top of the tree. “Hurry up..!”

“I- agh, aham tr-tryihihing!” Diluc choked on a laugh, struggling to reach out and place the star when all the nerves on his body were telling him to press his arms down his body. His brother being Kaeya, Diluc couldn’t be sure if that… feeling was a mere accident or something planned. “S-stohop squeehezing me lihihike t-that, you- ahah- ack!!”

“H-hoh?” Kaeya gasped, still managing to pull a tease in a situation like this. Diluc’s squirming was making it harder to keep him high up, but Kaeya would rather have them both falling to the ground than lose a chance to provoke Diluc like this. “H-how can you be… heh, this ticklish being this… short?”

“I’m nohot!” Diluc groaned, hitting Kaeya’s leg with his heel (mostly because of how his leg flailed than because he wanted to). 

“You’re not what? Short or ticklish? Because it looks like you’re both” Kaeya squeezed Diluc’s waist again and a strangled laugh escaped his brother’s lips. Kaeya smirked. “J-just put the star over there, my arms are getting tired.”

“If you- ahah, f-fine!” Diluc groaned in defeat, grabbing the tree with one hand and pulling it closer. Finding it more difficult than it should be, at last, Diluc managed to place the golden star in place, quickly tapping his brother’s hand. “D-done! Put me down! Puhuhut me down!”

“As you wish, brother,” Kaeya said, lowering his brother back down until he could place his feet on the ground - safe and sound. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Diluc breathed deeply, telling himself mentally this wasn’t the time to call Kaeya names and deciding that, just this once, he would let it slide… that, of course, under one condition. “One word about it…,” he threatened Kaeya - so brotherly-like of him.

“Huh? Or what?” Kaeya provoked him again, poking Diluc’s side and making him jerk away with a sharp gasp. “Come on, asking your big brother for help it’s nothing to be ashamed of…”

“Kaeya, no.” Diluc warned, wrapping his arms around his torso, “I’m serious. Kaeya, nohOHOH!! KahAHAHayea!”

[heartkaji]

hi mars i love your writing so much 🥺🥺 i’m thinking of starting a blog because of you so do you have any writing tips?

HI BABYYY i’m so glad i could inspire you to start writing i’m so happy to hear that💞💞 here’s a few for you ml 💘

read what you want to write. obviously you have to choose HOW you want to write first. in my case i wanted my writing to be similar to poetry since i love poems. there are diff types of poetry but prose poetry is my favorite so i decided on making my works based on that. once you’ve decided how you wanna write, read as many works as you can that basically embody that.

make it your own : if you’re using another author’s work as inspiration you might end up developing a writing style that’s pretty much identical to theirs. it’s harder to notice in writing so i’ll use art as an example: have you ever seen someone’s art and thought it was by a particular artist, only to find out it was someone else who drew it ? if your work looks like something the author you’re getting inspo from could’ve written, you’re doing it wrong 🙏 if you’re using pinterest or tumblr as inspo sources chances are your inspiration is a small or unpublished writer so you really don’t want your work sounding similar to theirs. making your work a little more unique by mixing inspo from different sources is a great help.

to add more on the last point, try making your own signature phrases !! for example, ppl have told me they know a work is mine once they see phrases like ‘blood drenched cheeks’ (as opposed to blushing or flushed cheeks) ‘blood crept up his throat’ (to show nervousness) etc etc. you can see these exact phrases in almost EVERY fic i’ve ever written. idk about them being entirely unique but if people are associating certain phrases with you, you are definitely on the right path to making a writing style that’s uniquely yours 💯 another thing i do is i use slashes in place of dashes, commas, semicolons etc and ‘&’ instead of ‘and’. it’s used in poetry sometimes but pretty uncommon in fic writing. my use of these symbols in writing has also been pointed out on here so i know i’m doing it right 🙏

decide how you want your works to SOUND. what vibe do you want your writing to give ? i like to write with the intention of making my fics sound ‘melancholically romantic’. i’d say my bakugo fic, kinich drabble and old kaji oneshot are works of mine that do well to capture this vibe. i like my works to have a somewhat ‘gloomy’ air as opposed to bright and happy, and i make the romance on a more steamy side, not innocent and cute at all. decide what tone or vibe you want your work to give off and use language and setting accordingly !!

PROOFREAD. this is really basic advice but i NEED to spell it out because gosh, the amount of fics i see that say ‘not proofread’ on the daily ?? anytime i see that in the authors note i scroll immediately. if you couldn’t put effort into making your fic readable, why would i give it a read ? please anon, use grammarly if you have to. i personally don’t use it because i write things ‘grammatically incorrectly’ for the sake of sounding poetic sometimes so having grammarly trying to correct what is perfectly fine in my eyes can get annoying. that said i reread my fics like ten times before i post, and i reread it at different times as well, not just reading it over and over again in one sitting. having stuff like spelling errors in my fics is just so embarassing to me, i prefer to avoid that at all costs 🙏

lastly, WRITE WHAT YOU LIKE. tumblr sucks when it comes to giving feedback. it makes me miss wattpad where everyone spammed comments but hey what can you do ? don’t let lack of engagement discourage you from writing the way YOU want to. i’ve written fics in really thick prose and some of those don’t get as many reactions, but does it make me consider changing my writing style ? NO. everything i post on here is first for myself before anyone else. it should be the same way for you too nonnie. the moment you become focused on writing what will get you the most likes and reblogs rather than what you actually want to, you become a content creator, not a writer. write as you like and own it ‼️

[we8s]

Alive due to 'anon magic', she now kills time working at a library and alcoholism.

Mindfang: Use new Journal

Hm. How does one begin now? I haven’t written in, God, sweeps. Even since taking a job at the library. Wretched place. 

What a turn to take, after eons of cycling though my own death. But my love was not there. No one was, in those endless tortures. I was surprised, to see someone, that light. To me, it was the first time I’d died, and after she spoke, I knew it was the thousandth. The sweet purr to her voice did little to ease the transition, yet here I am. Awake. Alive. 

I wandered what she called ‘dreams’ for perigrees. I hate that the only connection I had to the universe at large is that stupid website. It was good for somethings, though.  

A second chance. Hah, I’d even made contact with my Darkling again. I can’t tell, if he’s changed. Still shrouded in shadows, even when we go out to share a simple drink. When I look at him, I see every life I’ve lived. After today’s events, I wouldn’t blame him for not looking at me at all. 

I wander, if wanting to be seen is merely seeking attention. To finally be real again, to be alive, and to want that acknowledged - is it so trite? Perhaps. Lords know I’ve spent so much of my lives looking though people. All but her. In a fucked up way, I suppose it’s her who I have to thank for my afterlife. But I’ll dwell on that later.

I’ll have plenty of time to, now that I’m stuck here. I’m lucky as always, it seems. 

I’m still learning, about the woman who offered me a job at the library. Board just above it, noise pollution around it. I am right back where I started. 

Am I to die again? 

Mm. Probably not. Everyone's moved on, either vanished or living happy, insipid lives. What's the point of any of this?

> -- You don’t write out how forgotten you feel. How lonely you are, have been since realizing your lover is lost to the abyss. Perhaps that is why you are so mad at them. Dhanus, Bastet. They have each other, though fate was so cruel to them. 

It feels like no matter how you claw for a way out, you end up deeper. Deeper, still. 

You hate them. It is not a beautiful raging fire, but the pitiful embers you are running on. 

Why did he leave you behind? Poetic justice, maybe, for the exact thing you’d done to him. Yet, you’d never even spoken  of wanting to tag along, did you? For once, you just wish he’d fight for you. For anything. 

You hate her, for knowing just how you feel. Her darling is out there, just as yours. Do you tell her, the Dolorosa is your Signless? That you gave everything you had to keep her safe, to help her forget. God, it makes your stomach roil.

You’re going over for cake, soon. As such, you’ve taken out the ponytail you’d cut from the Jade’s overgrown mane, when you’d first taken her. You cut it just how she told you she wanted. Short, swooping up at the ends - 

You take a little bit, only a little, out for Survivor. You owe her, but only a little. If only because you too, are a coward. 

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

[ryuichirou]

*Picks you up and shakes you upside down to see all you Rook/Epel hcs*

Oof, now I feel dizzy 🤪 Alright alright, I’ll give you some! They were in a different pair of pants...

Just in case you haven’t read our previous hc list of these two, here is the link (I know you have read these, Anon, but it’s always good to link a previous post so hehe)

These ones are mostly spicier ones, even though you didn’t specify that you wanted this type. Well, I guess I kind of snapped lol

So yeah, Rook and Epel…

Epel is very eager to show that he is mature and experienced enough. Which is definitely not the case: he was a virgin when he first had sex with Rook. He didn’t know what to do, but still tried to do everything himself (not because he necessarily wanted to, he just hated the idea of being a pillow princess, even though he doesn’t know that term).

Of course, Rook didn’t let him do anything: with his experience and stubborn nature, he dominated Epel pretty easily and pretty early on, and Epel ended up just being overwhelmed with pleasure and moaning helplessly with his wrists being squeezed tight by Rook’s hand. He felt super embarrassed about it afterwards, since he couldn’t even touch Rook properly. But when he complained, Rook just smiled at him.

Despite Epel being visibly mad at Rook for manhandling him without letting him do anything, he actually quite liked this feeling of being groped and controlled. He is lucky that he doesn’t have to confess to Rook about it and that this is just the way Rook naturally does things. Although Rook might force him to say it out loud, just because he wants to hear Epel stutter and maybe even shed a tear out of embarrassment.

Rook finds Epel’s eagerness, earnestness and inexperience beautiful, and he definitely told Epel about it. Of course, in his poetic Rook way, so something about his sloppy wet kisses being charming, which is definitely not the vibe that Epel wanted to emit. But for some reason, when he hears Rook talk about how honest his body is and how quickly it reaches its peak, he can’t help but feel his ears and face burn and his pants get tight.

Rook doesn’t take his gloves off when he touches Epel, and it drives Epel crazy. It kind of pisses him off, but at the same time arouses him. He can’t really explain why, but somehow it makes him feel both humiliated, hunted down and somewhat dirty. He tried to take them off himself with his teeth once, and Rook chuckled at him and turned him face down.

When Epel gets a bit more confident, he’ll instantly become brattier, because that’s just his nature. What Epel doesn’t know is just how good Rook is at dealing with bratty bottoms. Whatever Epel does, it’s like a tiny kitten bite for Rook, so Epel is going to find himself pinned against the wall, trembling and even a little bit scared in a matter of seconds.

Epel gets scared quite often with Rook. At least this is what Epel’s eye tell Rook: he gets this look as if he is an animal that knows that it’s way too weak to fight a hunter, but still tries its best to gather the courage to pounce. This look of Epel’s is what arouses Rook the most.

Rook teases Epel quite a lot. Not only during sex, sometimes he touches him and caresses him sneakily while they’re in public, says something into his ear, pretty much just plays with him. Like I mentioned already, he really enjoys it when Epel gets flustered and then instantly frustrated because he got teased but didn’t get touched properly.

In all honesty, Rook is way too intense for Epel. He leaves him absolutely exhausted every single time. And the moment Epel starts to feel like he’s getting better and is getting closer to matching Rook’s pace and stamina, it turns out that Rook has been holding back this entire time. Rook laughs at Epel’s terrified (yet aroused) expression and always tells him that he still has much to learn~

[crushedsweets]

back w more of my song analysis bs cause im studying music performance and it’s all I think about 😍 sorry this is so long. i have so many Thoughts

the chain by fleetwood mac is such a brian song. no big beat drop, just constant driving bass - shows determination, relentlessness. specifically the line “if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again” which i take to mean “after i do what im about to do i will become unlovable, so you if you don’t love me now then you will never be able to because i’ll be such an irredeemable person”

geyser by mitski is a really good song to describe nina’s relationship with Jeff. the way that the song starts off so slow, so quiet and thin, but then swells to a grand and full sound like how nina’s obsession started off so small but then grew to control her entire life. love the line “and hear the harmony only when it’s harming me”

a pearl by mitski and LJ (another mitski song cause she’s my fav artist ever) about his abandonment mmm. plus the slightly sinister sounding chords showing his evilification(?? yk what i mean. when he turned emo) ugh “you’re growing tired of me” and “i fell in love with a war and nobody told me it ended” so him

tongues and teeth by the cranes wives and EJ. this is SO his song. ALL of the lyrics r so incredibly him,, “my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear” plus the slightly manic instrumental, highlighting the panic he feels at potentially harming people he loves HLGKFJJDS.

also, for ur consideration, miss nothing by the pretty reckless x nat.

- anon 🌙

anon im kicking my feet. AGGHHGHG. ohh my god. yhou are using musical word that i do not comprehendn in the same way you may but wow do i love the way you describe it. very poetic i think. ill talk abt these.. and then mention a liil extra smth abt toby i thought when driving yesterday

the chain is yes very brian.... ugh... yeyah. yeah. 'after i do what im about to do' is so real. like being so very aware and conscious of your awful decisions and still going through with them. quite brian-like even under the whole complexities with hoody persona etc etc....

AND YEAH GEYSER TOO . the start of the song feels very like... idk if scary is right but its just very deep and could be quite unsettling.... nina longs for love. "i've turned down every hand thats beckoned for me to come" very pretty, fun, easy-going girl that could have plenty of suitors and yet she's still crawling towards this fucking beast of a man who is nothing good for her. "i will be the one you need" constantly warping herself for this man that wouldn't do shit for her, and she doesn't mind because she loves him in every single which way he is, and she loves how awful it is . and FUCKKKKK SHE NEEDS TO GET BETTER SHE NEEDS TO GET AWAY. she gets away dont worry. she gets over him. lots of crying and sobbing and screaming but she gets over it. its very hard to get over something awful when you crave awful

im not a huge lj fan (SCARED OF CLOWNS IM SORRY GUYS IK I KEEP HARPING ON ABOUT IT) but i loooove a pearl. "i fell in love with a war / nobody told me it ended" wow. ok. yeah. wow. jesus. rolling the pearl around looking for anything and everything that could soothe the ache of literal fucking abandonment while all you can do is wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and then its all too much and damn . :( damn ok.

IVE GORWN A MOUTH SO SHARP AND CRUEL IS LITERALLY SO PERFFECTLY EJ. FUCK. "I am not a vessel for your good intents" oh but he is sure a vessel for something demonic .... "abonded all your stupid dreams / about the girl i couldve been" HE HAD SOOO MANY FUCKING DREAAAMSSSS he wants to be a doctor he wanted to save lives he wanted a family he wanted a dog he wanted to see his little siblings grow up he wanted to take care of his elderly parents. and now all he can do is sit and be miserable because he is a monster and there is only so much he can do about it. damn. wow.

also yeah to the nat thing wow.

wow. yeah. goddamn.

AND ALSOOOOO OK LAST NIGHT I WAS DRIVING AND THIS SONG CAME ON

shit show by peter mcpoland i just keep thinking about toby. tbh ill find a way to twist any song into toby cuz i like him but yea. this is leaning more into the found family thing after losing his own and just seeing the way different people reflect his past and its gut wrenching but you know how he is. just a guy of sorts. he spends a lot of his time angry and wanting to isolate and self destruct and ruin everything around him . but he also spends a lot of his time desperate for normalcy, for respect, to be seen as a human fucking being and ah fugugh. im just imagining brian pulling him out to meet the owner of the farm near slenders forest and making him stand straight and telling the farmer 'he's a good kid, hard worker, strong. keep him around" (the hardworking strong part is true, at least) and toby's about to die cuz he's so stressed (this is shortly after all the fucking murder) but brian lightly slaps him on the back and he stands up straight and the farmer just shakes his hand and says smth nice abt 'got a good grip there' and and and guyyyyssss..... and holidays..are so hard for hhim.. and "i swear i'd see your faces staring up at me" ohh my goddd.... "I don't wanna drink alone today" man................... guys...... man......

[phoenixtakaramono]

29 - Truce or TNotG 50

Re: Questions for Fic Writers

Ty, anon, for the Ask! I’m gonna give a huge Spoiler Warning for Truce chs 3-4 (and TNotG ch1) which have not been posted to AO3 yet, so read at your own risk.

29) What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [insert fic]? Explain your choices if you want!

…Oh goodness, last I checked there were 89+ songs I have for TNotG’s playlist, haha. They’re pretty self-explanatory, in my opinion, but I ordered the songs all by the first world we start in + the six arcs + return to Billy’s world. I’ll link the playlist at the bottom end Author’s Note when The Name of the Game ch1 is ready to be published to AO3 in September 2023, but you can also listen to it here:

As for Truce (which you can read ch1-2 here), there are 47 songs…ahhhhh, essentially for both fics, I listen to these songs I like to help set the vibe, mood, and atmosphere for me while I write. It’s like my background music/ white noise. For me, it’s usually the lyrics which tie into the story, usually highlighting a character motivation, their vibe, or just setting the scene. I can highlight a couple songs:

Crazy - Jake Daniels - It really set the vibe for me to get into Homelander’s headspace whilst writing the prologue, because everything in this chapter is from Homelander’s POV. The atmosphere, the lyrics, and the coincidental bloody superhero album art? I thought it was perfect.✨

Wolf - Zack Merci X Arcana - For ch2 (part I), this song encompasses Billy’s overall goal and manipulation of everyone (the Boys, Homelander, and Vought). It’s pretty much the theme song of this chapter.

(Keeping in mind: 🔴 Billy’s POV, 🔵 Homelander’s POV)

Lyrics:

Got you in the palm of my hand

Sowing distrust over this land

I can make it hurt till you understand […]

I was such a fool

Under your command […]

See the truth is I had change of heart

And all that I know is

I will be tearing you all apart […]

I’ll get in your head like a nightmare

And if I was you, I would be scared

Bet you never saw this coming

Don’t you know that I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing

Power - Isak Danielson - If Truce could have an opening number like how every show does, this is pretty much the theme song for Truce overall. It also sets the vibe for ch3 (part II) when Billy and Homelander finally get frisky on the kitchen island countertop, and kinda for ch4 as well. Although the entirety of the chapter will be in Billy’s POV, I want you to know as everything is happening, especially if you listen to this song when you read ch3, these lyrics represent the desperation of the ideal that Homelander sees in Billy. He’s ready for that unconditional love, for that perfect soulmate partner who gets him 100% and is just as obsessed with him as he is; in a dramatic turn of events, he’s now essentially pinning all his last hopes for a human connection onto Billy. (Notice ch1’s line: “keep me sane. Keep me grounded. You are the one person preventing me from razing this earth to the f*cking ground” before it shifts into the fear that Ryan, his flesh and blood, will end up disappointing him ➡️ pivoting to the line of how “the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Failure, after failure, after failure […] Maybe what needed to be done was to reevaluate his life. Acquire a different perspective on things, a new outlook.” ➡️ The SHEER POETIC IRONY now that he’s shifted that target in his brain to Billy after what’d happened in ch1. It’s a disaster waiting to happen but we’ll only allude to the disastrous future potential at most because Truce is 4 chapters only and not 12 chapters so we’ll end on a Happy Ending for this PWP fourshot. For me, it’s a song that shows that it’s not always a women that can get stuck in a toxic codependent relationship and that men can also be stuck in the same shoes. And if that ain’t the situation with Homelander and Billy in Truce?

(Keeping in mind: 🔴 Billy’s POV, 🔵 Homelander’s POV)

Lyrics:

I still look at you with eyes that want you

when you move, you make my oceans move too

if I hear my name, I will run your way […]

it’s my desire that you feed, you know just what I need

you got power, you got power

you got power over me

I give my all now, can't you see, why won't you set me free?

you got power, you got power

you got power over me

I was lost until I found me in you

I saw a side of me that I was scared to

but now I hear my name and I’m running your way

All I feel as I get closer to you

is the Desire to move like you do

so now I hear my name and I’m running your way

I am ready now […]

I give my all now, can't you see, why won't you set me free? […]

You’re the one that seduced me, lured me in with your beauty, now I know that you used me

All you did was confuse me, you're no longer what I need, touch me slow, feel my heart bleed

(Also this song^ is the bee’s knees. I never skip this song in my iTunes playlist when it comes up and always belt it out when I’m alone. This song is very, very, very underrated. I highly rec you give it a listen.)

Rob a Bank - Confetti - “Who's to say that I can't break into your house / While you're working / I'm just lurking through your bedroom like a mouse / Gettin' naked on your sofa wearing just your penny loafers / Take some pictures leave 'em by your dirty dishes” ⬅️ What can I say? This screams Homelander to me and I laugh at the imagery of him breaking in, trying out Billy’s shiny new polished penny loafers whilst getting naked on his sofa and taking dirty pictures of himself to leave by the dirty dishes for Billy to find. It’s like a tomcat in heat scent-marking his territory. This song does help me imagine the dynamic when we get to the NS*W parts.

Religion - Isak Danielson / Dancing in the Sky - Kristen Cruz One of these songs will represent the penultimate ch4 which’ll entirely be written in HL’s POV; Religion mostly represents Homelander’s POV (which is really just him desperately trying to deceive himself if we look at it meta-ly, but shhh, he himself is not that self-aware in ch4) whereas Dancing in the Sky represents Billy’s side of things as we end the final scene in the story with Billy given approval to take Ryan to visit Becca’s grave to pay respects and for one last emotional send-off—whilst HL (who Billy doesn’t want to see him anywhere near this day) secretly watches the private moment from far away like a lurker outsider. It’s supposed to be a bittersweet emotional touching moment to tug at the readers’ heartstrings—which gets twisted because this is HL’s POV so it becomes tampered with his desperate obsessiveness and possessiveness of Billy being his and HL’s jealousy of Becca that he won’t admit to but, as an audience, we can tell he’s supeeeeer jealous (like, thanks for giving birth to my son��but you’re dead buried six-feet under, and your husband will be my husband now so good f*cking riddance; I will be the winner; he will come to forget you and love me only). It’s a very fatalistic self-fulfilling prophecy. I REMIND YOU, we will still have a Happy Ending for the Billy/ Homelander ship in Truce (hell, HL will even get to fondle Billy’s old wedding ring and think about having his own wedding ring on Billy’s wedding finger) but we’re gonna get a couple parting ouchies as a souvenir at the end a là Becca’s resting place visit.

Religion Lyrics (HL @ Billy):

Can we say goodbye to, to the lies you told

You know I’m wiser, I’ve been here before

I believed your stories, at least the blind in me

You gave my eyes what they wanted to see

I’ve lost my reality

I’ve lost everything in me […]

You act like a God and you’re trying too hard but I need it

I was once a believer

Now I’m back to believing

I’m trying to be smart with a stake through the heart but I feel it

Turning into addiction

Praying in your religion […]

Future doesn’t matter

I'd give it up for you

Even though I know that you’d never do

You know your power and I know it too

I’ll end up in fire, burning with you

Dancing in the Sky Lyrics (Billy @ Becca):

Tell me, what does it look like in heaven?

Is it peaceful? Is it free like they say?

Does the sun shine bright forever?

Have your fears and your pain gone away?

'Cause here on Earth it feels like everything

Good is missing since you left

And here on Earth, everything's different

There's an emptiness […]

I hope you're dancing in the sky

And I hope you're singing in the angel's choir

And I hope the angels know what they have

I'll bet it's so nice up in Heaven since you arrived

So tell me, what do you do up in Heaven?

Are your days filled with love and light?

Is there music? Is there art and adventure?

Tell me are you happy? Are you more alive?

50) Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

HMMMM. Since the ball is in my court, I’ll answer 49) What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! I tweeted a screenshot of TNotG ch1 - scene II yesterday night but I can give y’all a longer preview of a couple lines from my new QT:

Look forward to The Name of the Game being posted to AO3 on September 2023! Presently exposition scenes I-II (which total 38 pages, with scene I essentially being a speedrun to catch readers who are unfamiliar with these characters and the fandom up to speed whereas scene II is laying out all the story foreshadowings and as many Chekov Guns as I can reasonably shove in for now) are completely done and edited; I’m now trying to get to the finish line of scene III which is the more…exciting part of the three scenes (where dragon!Billy, our transmigrated black-bellied scumbag ML, meets knight!Homelander, our black-bellied scumbag shou, for the first time) before I can give an advanced notice on my socials of the week it’ll probably be posted. ✌️

[newjenns]

this is the manifestsol btw just cut up into little pieces

[asiogie]

okay fine drops the dream bodyhair manifesto in ur askbox. fine. if u really insist. maybe i will. Okay i’ll do it. starting off strong we have the drarmpits (dream armpits). i always feel like pits r underrated on here and maybe just generally bc i dont ever see people other than me specifically talking about them most of the time. but i just think theres something so … idk how to put it into words but theres just something so human about them that i love likekee i just don’t know. anyways yeah buries my face in them or whatever. next!!! his chest. i dont think its like rewallly super hairy or anything but there’s enough there for me to think about and feel lightheaded doing so. his hairy fucking tits ….. moving swiftly on to one of my favourites. the happy drail :3 one of these days hes gonna reach up or stretch or something on camera that’ll give me a glimpse of his hairy stomach that i then just won’t let go of. it’ll be like that one photo of him sat in a laundry basket but a billion times worse which brings us onto his legs. his beautiful legs. one of the only sections of this that ive seen outside of my own uh Visions shall we say anyways i fucking love his legs theyre the perfect amount of hairiness and i want to floss my teeth on them who said that .. i’ve already mentioned it but that laundry basket photo is my favourite droto of all time i think (id put it here but im sure u know exactly the one i mean). i love all of em but that one is really special to meee. AND I ALMOST FORGOT. the drubes. again i need to bury my face here on my way down to- anyways Anyways. his beard .. idk if that counts but like its hair and on his body soo. i love the colour of it (i think that colour transfers to everything else ive talked about here tbh like that makes sense i think?) anyways something about beard burn goes here. and lastly his hair .. again maybe doesnt count but it’s hair on his body and i want to play w it as he catnaps on my lap etc. i could go on for hours like i could seriously wax poetic about dream and. his beautiful hairy tits. and there we go!! i hope this was enjoyable to read i had the best time picturing all this as i went. urm. dream my boyfriend who i kiss and bury my face in the chest of everyday Yippee!!!! im gonna write and publish a poetry book entirely about. the drody hair and nobody will ever know. except me and u and anyone who reads this. idk im just typing words at this point i feel rly dizzy i need to bury my head in his chest inneedd to smell him <- crazy person thing to say (tagged on the end of this okay. sure). anywaysss hands u the deepest darkest part of my brain drinks some chamomile tea and goes to sleeb for 10hrs zzz <3

really good fucking work anon just really great literature in the askbox today

[grey-sides]

For the prompts; “if you cry, i’ll cry ─ and that won’t be fun for anyone.”

Hello, anon! Fair warning that this drabble contains some spoilery stuff for S4 because until I finish what will likely be a longer fix-it, I still wanted to get a little something something out there. Essentially pre-harringrove here! Also, this prompt comes from this list.

Steve’s side still kind of aches where Nancy has bandaged it up, he’s going to need stitches and probably like every vaccine known to man. But he’s alive and Vecna is dust, literally, and Max has her arms wrapped around Billy. Billy who is alive and whole, if a bit grubby and sweaty. 

Chrissy is back too, sobbing against Eddie who looks simultaneously ecstatic and totally freaked out. And Nancy is kneeling next to Fred, holding his hand while he mutters to himself. Lucas has Patrick in a one armed-hug, staring over his shoulder at Max and Billy. It’s surreal that they get this, this happy ending where everyone lost to Vecna in the past year is back. 

Steve is…a little unclear on the divide between the Mindflayer and Vecna because the kids thought Vecna reported to the Mindflayer. But Nancy said Vecna created the Upside Down and maybe Steve has lost more blood than he thought. 

He pushes away from the tree he’s been leaning on with the Creel house crumbled in front of them. There will probably always be a sinkhole there, it’s for the best. This land is cursed. Maybe all of Hawkins is, maybe it needs a cleansing fire or something across the whole town. It’s not Steve’s problem to solve right now. 

Steve limps over beside Max and Billy. Max’s head hits him right in the chest where Steve saw the Mindflayer pierce it. One of his former English teachers would probably call that poetic and might ask them to explain what the symbolism means. Steve wouldn’t know, would just sit there, head down, hoping he doesn’t get called on. 

Billy lifts his head and fixes Steve with a thousand yard stare. But he’s not angry, he just looks…lost. Like he’s forgotten where he is or why he’s here, his hands tighten just a little more in the back of Max’s blue jacket. 

“Nice fucking vest,” he says and his voice is rough, but it’s him. It’s Billy. Finally sounding like himself and not some fucked up alternate universe version of himself. His eyes shine in the moonlight with unshed tears. It’s his birthday. Rebirthday too. 

“It’s Munson’s,” Steve tells him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. As if Billy would think for one second that it’s Steve’s. Maybe he thinks Steve had a breakdown or something and found salvation in heavy metal. Fat chance, he’s more likely to get into jazz or something. 

Billy nods and buries his nose against Max’s hair. Her breathing is erratic and she keeps hiccuping. There’s just a lot of tears happening and Steve feels caught in the middle but also outside of it all. Should he be crying? He feels like he should be doing something. Feels like the first time his mom gave him a haircut and he had freaked out, expecting it to be life changing. But it was just a haircut and now he gets them sorta regularly and it’s nothing. The Upside Down shit is starting to feel like a haircut. 

Billy pulls his head back up and looks at Steve again. His eyes seem more sure, his hands a little more steady where they’re holding Max. “Come here, Harrington,” he commands, lifting one arm. 

Steve just blinks at him, taking a step back. He should check on Dustin and Robin, he’s pretty sure they’re arguing about magnetic polarity or something insane. 

“Come here,” Billy repeats. “You look like you're about to cry and if you cry, I’ll cry and that won’t be fun for anyone.”

Steve reaches up to touch his cheek. Is he about to cry? Steve Harrington doesn’t cry. Didn’t even cry when the demobats tried to eat him alive. But he feels really unsteady and he wants to know what Max wrote in her letter to him. And he suddenly wants to know what Billy’s arm feels like wrapped around his shoulders. 

He steps closer and finds himself boxing Max into Billy. He wraps his arms around both of them and presses his cheek to the top of her head and she turns a little, to get an arm around him too. It should be weirder, he thinks, to be part of this family reunion. But it’s not, Max and Billy are just another part of the little band of misfits Steve calls his family more than he calls his own parents.

“No crying, okay?” Billy tells him but when Steve looks at him, he has tear tracks carving out the dirt on his cheeks. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes and he swallows back any tears that could even think about making an appearance on his face. Or he doesn’t. Max’s hair is just kind of damp to begin with, probably, she won’t notice if he gets tears in there too. 

When Steve feels like he has his shit under control, he pulls back to look at their ragtag group. Dustin has migrated over to lean against Lucas’ side with Erica and Robin is holding Nancy’s other hand. Steve is done trying to make sense of all of this, he’s hugging Billy Hargrove after all and Billy’s hand keeps tightening and releasing against his back. Because he slid his hand under the vest at some point. It feels nice. 

A loud, smelly van pulls up on the street and a helicopter lands in the park across from it and the rest of the group has arrived. Steve feels his shoulders sag with something like relief, but he doesn’t let go of Billy or Max. Jane’s head is shaved again, he kind of feels bad for relying on her so much. Jonathan has a new friend he has a feeling Eddie is going to get along with. Hopper is…also alive, but looking different. Not Vecna or the Mindflayer then. 

Some government guys show up to start leading people into vans and away from the scene while Jane gets ready to do what she does best. Seal it up. Close it down. Make the monsters sleep for another year. 

Steve refuses to let go of Max and since Billy won’t let go of her either, they get bundled into the same van. He’s pretty sure Lucas would rather be here with her, but Lucas is the only one Patrick knows, so he’s being a good friend until someone who knows him better can arrive. 

“Thanks,” Billy says when the back door of the van slams closed. Max is still wrapped around him, her headphones around her shoulders but Steve can faintly hear Kate Bush playing. “For helping her.”

Steve shakes his head and leans it back against the wall of the van. He’s tired and Billy’s hand is warm in his where they’re attached across the aisle. “Nah, I could have done more.”

Billy fixes him with a glare, it’s lost a little heat with the tears still on his cheeks. “You helped her. You did.”

Steve doesn’t argue, is too tired for that. He hopes he doesn’t have to stay long in the hospital, he just wants to curl up in bed for days on end. He’s gonna have to get like fifty shots probably, rabies has a lot of shots. “Listen, uh, I don’t know if you heard Max’s letter but they’re living in a trailer right now and I just wanted to offer up my guest room. If you want it.”

Billy looks down at Max and brushes his hand over the back of her head. Her eyes are closed. Steve wonders how long it’s been since she actually slept. “Yeah, think we might take you up on that. Just, no more crying, okay? We won.”

“You know, the Hawkins basketball team won the championship a couple nights ago. Right after we both were on the team. Shitty, huh?”

Billy cracks a small smile and leans his head back too. “Yeah well, you were just too damn distracting on that court.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. But that maybe he doesn’t care anymore about winning basketball because, in his mind, they just won the fucking war. 

[sashi-ya]

~ 🌸 Cherry Blossoms Over Wano Event 🌸 ~

NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Reader ~ Over The Roofs of Wano

tw: soft! nsfw. Vag sex. Crying. Angst. Meanings of death. And fluff.

wc: 1.5K

Like this event? masterlist 🌸~

My dear anon! here I am with this angsty yet fluffy fic, with passionate and poetic nsfw as I thought it would fit better than a more explicit type of smut. I hope you enjoy and thank u for taking part! ❤🌸~

The request was:

Anonymous asked: hello 💗 can i request over the roof of the flower capital with law and female reader? a lil bit angsty but it's the night before the raid and reader is worried a lot about law and wants to come with him and they kinda argue with each other but it ends with fluffy nsfw? sorry if that was complicated 😅

An inverted half-moon shines its light over the coast, and the soft surge of Wano’s contaminated waters have already lulled most of the crew to sleep inside the old, abandoned house where you are staying. The flower capital sleeps, and no one seems to be around. You are sitting over the gabled roof of your hiding spot, contemplating the horizon, wishing for the sun to never rise, as it would mark the beginning of a new day… and that means, the day of the raid on Onigashima.

Law, your lover, is gonna be heading to a deadly destiny. You pray to your God, and even other’s too for him to be alright. You even ask his family to guide him, to tell him to stop this…

“Don’t go, Law… or at least take me with you” you whisper into the void, allowing the warm breeze to smoothly caress your cheeks and dry the tears that begin to fall through your cheeks.

“Where?” a sudden husky voice that comes from the ground makes you jolt. You quickly wipe your tears with the back of your forearm and look at him.

Of course you are used to seeing him walking around during the night, Law sleeps almost nothing compared to a healthy human being, but this time you are sure he should be sleeping. Law knows well his Ope Ope no mi powers drain all his energy, he should be well rested for the fight.

"Oh..uhm… to uhm… Onigashima? “No”

Once Law has decided something, there isn’t anything that could change his mind, especially when it comes to protecting you. And you of course would accept it, because you know he would die if something bad happens to you. After losing many important people in his life, he is not willing to lose anyone else.

But this time was different, you won’t allow him to go -alone-. And as far as you know this might start a war between you and him, with consequences that you are risking to face.

“I won't comply with your order this time, captain” you firmly tell him. You are not treating him as “babe” or “my love” but as your captain, and that hurts him.

“Then you will have to leave the crew” he spits, with such a cold tone it makes you shiver. You flinch, your heart breaks when you hear him say that you will have to leave your family, when he so nonchalantly tells you to go away from his life. Law’s sharp words sometimes cut deeper than his blade.

However, you swallow your tears, and won’t show -even if it is really noticeable- any weakness to him. You are firm with this, you won’t let him go alone. You won’t.

“I’ll leave after the raid then, Law. We will see you at Onigashima then” you tell him, with a trembling voice you try to conceal as you stand up and walk over the black tiling of the kirizuma.

Room. Shambles.

A huge semitransparent blue bubble forms around you and the whole house, you feel the oppressive feeling of being inside Law’s operation room, bigger than usual, dense. And you expect to be tele transported down to the floor to be scolded, but you aren’t. Instead, Law appears on your side, exchanging his body with a broken piece of tile.

He snatches your arm all of a sudden to stop you from walking -probably to avoid you falling- and your faces encounter. He looks at you with intense grey eyes that scare you. His frown and sight feel intense, like an aura surrounds him, and you wonder if that’s really Haki or not. In any case, his gaze is enough to make you suddenly surrender before him. No wonder he is one the most powerful pirates out there…

“What do you want, Law? I’m not in your crew, and from what I can see is also not your girlfriend anymore” you bark at him, feeling how his tattooed hand squeezes your wrist, more and more. “Are you seriously doing this right now, (Name)-ya?” he asks, scanning you from head to toes.

You move your arm enough to make him let go of you, as you can feel his fingertips leaving marks on your skin. “Leave me alone, Law” you tell him when you finally get released from his dominant hold. You walk up until one of the edges of the roof and allow the moonshine to bathe your cheeks with your eyes shut, trying to stop your tears from falling. Truth be told, this push and pull of stupid power and dominance shouldn’t be happening. You could lose Law tomorrow, and you want your last night to be like this?.

You hear the sound of his boots hitting the roof until his steps stop. You were waiting for his touch on your shoulder, but you can’t feel it. Instead, what you hear is a drowned sobbing sound. You don’t dare to turn around, not just yet even knowing too damn well what’s going on with him.

You don’t dare to look at him cry. You haven’t ever seen him cry, but you have listened to him doing so. Long nights where he buries his head on the pillow, and cries in silence, while you only stay by his side, looking at the other side of the room… that’s what Law prefers. Or is it you? Are you able to see the person you love the most shed even a single tear?

You look over your shoulder and notice his figure sitting. He has his head weakly hanging, his hat on his hands, his long legs at each side.

“Law…” you mumble and run to him. You kneel on his side, and delicately approach his face. Your fingers graze his chin and softly lift his face to you. Glassy crystalline eyes show how deeply his heart has been broken by a simple -yet painful- discussion with you.

He snatches your waist, and you fall over his lap. His arms around your waist hug you tight as if his life depended on that hold. He buries his face on the crook of your neck, and you could feel wet patches over your skin coming from his eyes.

“I don’t want you to come, cause I… I’m fighting to give you a better world to live in. Can you imagine how I’d feel if I lost you? For which person I’d fight for? hum?” he mumbles, holding you even closer as you kiss the crown of his head and trace circles over his back with your hand.

“Any world with you, Law, is a world where I’d love to live in…please, don’t die, I beg you” you tell him, and as the last word leaves your lips, he seals them with his.

His inked hand moves your hair away from your face, wiping at the same time your tears that won’t stop falling and mixing with his. A rapture of passion and need hits you both, and silently, your bodies reach for each other, understanding deep inside, that indeed, that could be the last time you two could be together.

Your kimono untied, falls at your back. His kimono untied too, exposing the beautiful and meaningful drawings that are engraved on his skin as the constant reminder of his savior. Bathed under the subtle argentum shine of the new moon, you melt into a passionate kiss that shows the love you both feel for the other.

His hands travel up and down your back, leaving his fingertips like prints on your flesh. Your hands rest over his shoulders, and sometimes on his nape going up and down his raven hair.

Law’s lips trace kisses paths all over your neck and chest, and also some bites. Your sex feels the intensity and neediness of his, grazing against it. He searches for your entrance, and your entrance searches for his.

None of you could even say something, softly moans, loud enough not to be heard, his grunts on your ear as the heat on your cores grows stronger.

Law makes you stand up a little from his crotch, just enough for him to free his member from the white underwear he is wearing. Passion makes you so needy, you don’t even take yours off, just move it to the side, enough for him to bury himself deep inside of you.

Once he is ready, both covered by the half underpart of your kimonos, he makes you fall over his sex. It feels wonderful how your walls stretch and clench in response to him entering. You throw your head back, inhaling the sweet scent of his hormones, and Law bites the sides of your jawline.

Subtle grunts, moans, and sometimes whines, resonate all around the coast, but get muffled by the crashing waves. Really far, the lights of the giant skull dome of Onigashima flicker, but that could wait, all that matters now is him, him. And you.

“I love you” he sighs, with his mouth open, hitting his teeth against yours. “I love you too, Law…” you moan, squirming over him as climax hits you, subtly but explosively.

Law also finishes, and he doesn’t dare to move. Connected, feeling the pressure inside you, sharing the most beautiful moment any lover could ever experience. Melting individuals, halves meeting in a single soul…

It doesn’t matter what the next day would bring, as long as this moment could last forever in your memories over the roofs of Wano houses… ❤ ~

[venomous--fics]

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

[pastelpaperplanes]

Big Ol Ask Post Pt. 3 I think

I haven’t drawn anything other than cursed or plain technical stuff w him 😔😔 have these for now but expect more soon!

anon a way back asked what he’d look like next to Overlord being already so big compared to Megs, that’s why you see Lordie if you’re wondering why he’s thrown in that line up!

by the way I have a voice claim for the big purple simp— Jenner from NIMH, he’s so awful but that suave baritone oh it fits too well >:] it’s the ‘humble servant’ line that got to me

Yep! Pharma is absolutely in this AU—as well as the CFau and Crack one too—and in all, he’s still an estranged medic long since booted from any legal work back on Cybertron.

He lost his credibility and more all those years ago when he found himself willing to do his fair share of cutting corners and hastily concealed malpractice to expedite his dream of getting his name down in the medical books—ultimately impressing his dear Mentor Ratchet, finally, in perfecting long-since banned risky experiments and surgeries—not to mention cruel and unusual temperament with the (supposedly) taboo practice of non-medicinal mnemosurgery.

His ambitions and aggression always got the bet of him, this hasn’t changed since he found himself working in freelance outposts. Light years away from Cybertron, he’s made a name for himself as a Good Doctor—but to his under-the-table black market part-dealing clients, he’s just about as bad as a Crooked Medic can get.

Bounty hunters and Arms Dealers like him for his business, a certain DJD member likes him for the occasional berth company and seemingly never ending supply of fresh T-Cogs—but no one actually likes him for his nasty temperamental personality, save for a young and naive Ratchet once upon a time.

Pharma is a roamer, as of recent he’s been a hard to reach mech—seems as if he’s found a little project to keep himself pretty occupied in the last few decades—something about a breakthrough for aiding the Decepticon Energon Crisis :] him and a small, horrifyingly cheerful surgeon are well on their way to completing their first trial batches, it’s safe to say that their little synthetic mixture will have it’s users sated and compliant.

they’ve got that amazing ‘new car smell’ those first few weeks, and instead of chittering like an Insecticons or vibrating their wings like a seeker—they beep and squeak, sometimes even honk a horn depending on the baseline altmode coding, to get their Creators’ attention before their vocalizer truly starts to kick online

It’s cute, but loud

Much like a seeker sparkling, they have to reach a certain ‘age’ (upgrade) to be able to transform completely, in between then they’re still able to rev those engines as a warning should they need it, as well as spin their wheels should they need a getaway HEELIES IF THEYRE LUCKY WOOHOOOOO—for seekers they can hover on their thrusters!

Crusade is actually pretty formal with Megatron. But yeah as a kid, Megs was always known as Carrier, but as Sadie got older and more aware of their surroundings—they definitely came to learn the true weight of that title and the fact that they were the progeny of the faction leader, a fact they should have really held onto with more pride. Not wanting to draw more attention to the already blatant favoritism (and nepotism) Crusade made a switch to addressing Megatron as Sir, My Lord, Lord Megatron, —ect. to better fit in with their fellow troops.

It bothers Megatron more than than he lets on. Crusade shouldn’t have to hide their high ranking as his child, the heir to the faction. Megs is their Carrier and can only order them around for so long, as their Leader however—pulling rank may just allow for their infuriatingly stubborn sparkling to listen to them should a day come where even a Carrier’s plea is dismissed.

Crusade does slip up every now and then and a ‘Carrier’ will slip—often hushed and annoyed though as Megs does like to tease every now and then, gotta remind them that they’re still his baby every once in a while :’)

Optimus however—whenever him and Crusade should truly reunite, will never be called Sire by Crusade, which they so heatedly established early on—Crusade never needed one and they don’t need one now, better to not let the title trigger those long-suppressed emotions. Sure enough though Optimus will get his moment.

actually no lmfao so you’re good! Eh, I haven’t mentioned much plot w them outside of them and Megs, plus bits of potential interactions with Optimus—so the rest of Team Prime is free game :D

For what I (hopefully will have) planned, their interactions with team Prime will be eh,,,interesting to each their own to say the least. Some more stressful than others BUT let’s not get into that until I’ve worked it out—for now I’ll just mention what they’re dynamics would be like when the drama of Oh Shit Boss Bot You’ve Been Hiding a Kid For HOW LONG has died down.

A usually touch-wary Crusade actually is the one to initiate a hug with Bulkhead, he’s the biggest and warmest and somehow is always happy to see them. Plus he tells cool recaps of Earth films and gifts them strange blobish paintings every now and then, all of which Crusade doesn’t exactly understand, but at least the colors are pretty.

Bee is annoying,,,which is what Crusade would say if confronted if they actually liked all the shenanigans Bee suggest they pull together, prank wars to the max, sparring for fun, video games?, DOUGHNUTS and RACES in the fortress halls??? Ahem. they are a super serious soldier, not a hooligan. But honestly, Bee is the one they seek out the most should they need an adventure, they missed out on a lot of this ‘fun’ growing up on the Nemesis—Bee seems to know how to balance a day of soldiering and dumbassery. sometimes.

Ratchet reminds them a bit too much of their Carrier than they’d care to admit. The medic is an old soul to his very core, perpetually tired but quick to snap into work mode, and sweet if you reallllllly squint. Sadie has been taught from day one to always respect medics, Ratchet obviously takes the cake on I’ve Seen Some Shit and for that alone Crusade both fears and admires Ratchet. Again, growing up on the Nemesis they didn’t have too many bots willing to talk much with them—but Ratchet (after he’s gone through his own lot of therapy, him AND Arcee. good lord) has a never ending pile of stories to share with them. Ratchet may throw in a few more colorful curses than necessary—which is SURPRISING bc Crusade thought they’d heard them all back home, but he’s entertaining and tells Crusade how it is, no sugarcoating. For that Crusade is grateful, there’s been too many half-truths thrown about to them in their recent years :’)

Ghost Prowl freaks them out—why does he deliberately have to be so sneaky?? Crusade has only met Prowl a fleeting handful of times (visits from the Allspark come with meaning, you know) and each time Crusade has been given nothing but odd riddles and poetic nonsense. Kidding. Prowl does like his wordplay’s but his given advice is always well meaning—the most firm and direct message Crusade has been passed though was probably most definitely “ Get those two cowards for mecha you call your Creator’s to stop fooling around with each other and SPEAK—at this rate it’s physically paining me that they haven’t begun Ritus and they’re not getting any younger”

Team Prime adores Sadie, they ask Megatron to see their sparkling photos every chance they catch him. And Crusade. hates it.

:) have

We’ve been here before, haven’t we?

[psychewritesbs]

HI ! another anon here, unfortunately I saw many (or not many but very vocal) express joy at the possibility of Megumi being completely erased by Sukuna. And I don't know if I'm simply in denial but I refuse to believe that this is the ending that Gege would give his deuteragonist, and leaving pending points like? not even a closure like he has even given to side characters? Megumi is my fav, I know there is a possibility that he dies, but not like this, not now. u still have positivity? :')

HOLA dearest Another Anon, 

I mean... what can I say. I was, quite literally, boasting about wanting to see Megumi suffer like the massive idiot that I am. I even busted out with the tacky Mexican telenovela villainess laughter. 

Seriously, I am insufferable... 

... And then I saw what Gege did... it broke my heart because I wasn’t expecting it to be so damn cruel. Gege. is. a. fucking. sadist. Just you wait you damn cursed cat, I’m coming for you just so that I can ask you how poetic it is to have “Victoria” carved on your forehead. I'll be your Goddess of Victory alright.

That said, I can see why someone would be overjoyed at seeing Sukuna overpower and obliterate Megumi’s consciousness. Either they don’t care about Megumi or they are excited by the implications. 

But for us Megumi-lovers... I totally get it. Not only is it hard to ignore that Gege has killed off or “put in the corner” so many important/major characters already, but if “Megumi” is gone and only his body remains with a different consciousness within it... well, even if he looks like it, he’s not really Megumi any longer, is he? 

And honestly, this whole experience made me realize that, as much as I love JJK in general, I’m here for Megumi and Megumi’s growth as a character. 

Anyways. Yeah. I am cautiously optimistic under the cut for several reasons, but mostly because Gege gives meaning...

I am cautiously optimistic

Cautiously optimistic because as much as my brain can’t help itself, I don’t want to try to predict JJK anymore. I think some of my headcanons have come to pass in a different expression of what I had in mind. But that’s the thing with “Archetypes”, Archetypes are an empty shell until they are given meaning.

So at this point I just want to enjoy what’s left of this roller coaster ride. Read this to mean that I’ll probably won’t be able to help myself and will continue trying to guess how things progress.

JJK is beautifully unpredictable even with all of the foreshadowing that Gege dropped along the way.

I’m also cautiously optimistic because Gege has shown us at least a couple of times that the original body’s consciousness can still awaken and take over.

Finally, I am cautiously optimistic because the kanji in Megumi’s name can be said to symbolize a light in the darkest of shadows. A blessing in a cursed world.

After all, does light not shine brightest in the darkness? 

I personally HOPE that this poetic justice comes back into play later on. The power of names is a trope after all.

There’s also thoughts that have been shared with me by others...

Like ma 🍒, who keeps reminding me that we don’t know how this is going to play out yet and that there’s details we can keep in mind that might mean that this isn’t the end for Megumi.

I think moving forward you might also start hearing more evidence about why this is just temporary because, as has been largely theorized, Sukuna just needs Megumi’s cursed technique to make him a new body. 

Another thing to keep in mind is that...

Gege is good at manipulating emotions

Like... reeeeeal good.

Just look at the current state of the Megumi fandom or how any time Nobara is mentioned the fandom goes into an uproar. 

This is a culmination point and it has been beautifully executed in the sense that it’s got you and me and millions of other people lamenting whether this is “it” for Megumi.

So the way events flowed could all very well have been crafted for the sake of emotional impact.

But we simply won’t know for some time.

This is a call to trust the process. We have no choice but to let the cat cook.

If this is, indeed, temporary, then we will get our closure.

If this is “it”, however... well...

I have to say there’s something larger at play here, and that is “the kind of story Gege is writing” and “the kind of writer Gege is”.

So keep in mind that...

Gege is an existentialist

To your point about how unsatisfying Megumi’s death would feel if this is “it”... yeah. Totally. 

So that should tell you that you have to think of Gege as either an existentialist or a nihilist mangaka.

Since I’m not sure whether you understand what these concepts mean, what I’ll say is that life is what you make of it. It’s up to you to decide whether life is inherently meaningless and chaotic, or whether there is meaning and order to the chaos that is life.

An existentialist author is someone who writes about characters navigating the meaninglessness of the chaos that is life, and who seek to give meaning and purpose to said chaos.

On the other end of the spectrum you have nihilism--the belief that life is meaningless.

SO... if Gege was feeling pretty nihilistic on the day he came up with Megumi’s death and the JJK ending, then we can expect that Megumi’s death is indeed anticlimactic like a certain someone’s death...

Not sure if you read my response to Recurring Anon about JJK’s writing in which I confess that I am not a fan of Chainsaw Man’s brand of existentialism because it feels a bit too much on the “navel gazing” end of the existential spectrum, and anti-climatic to boot because it’s nihilistic at the core.

Similarly, CLAMP’s writing is also existential, anti-climatic, and can err on the nihilist end of the spectrum too. i.e. I understand that the art style and overall lack of screen tones in xxxHolic is meant to reflect and evoke a sense of vacancy and emptiness because that is how the mc experiences the world. Something like that.

My other beloved existentialist is Shinichiro Watanabe who will shred your heart to bits and pieces with inconclusive but optimistic existential angst.  

Bang. See you space cowboy.

You can watch a Watanabe ending and walk away both heartbroken and inspired. The man is a genius. 

I bring up all of these examples because you can more or less organize these authors into neat little boxes.

If I had to compare mangaka, I’d say Fujimoto and CLAMP are nihilists, whereas Gege is more like Watanabe, an existentialist who chooses to give meaning. That’s why Gege’s character’s deaths have always felt very poetic despite how brutal they can be--there’s meaning to them.

Megumi’s “death” in the larger JJK-scheme of things, with the rather limited information we have right now, feels nihilistic af. 

So let’s assume for a minute that he doesn’t come back... like yeah, I’m in denial and cautiously optimistic, but we have to prepare for the worst because Gege is unpredictable af and I wouldn’t put it past him to have killed Megumi because that’s how he rolls. SO...

If Megumi doesn’t come back, what meaning will Gege give to Megumi’s death?

How will the events that follow create meaning around Megumi’s death?

I think what worries me right now is that Megumi has a bit of a nihilistic view of life. And if Gege is the kind of author who lets the characters write themselves because he wants his characters to be true to their nature, then... this death is fitting. It’s just as meaningless as Megumi believes the world to be.

Makes sense, right?

Honestly, existentialism is hard to explain, so hopefully this makes sense. But right now any mental gymnastics I do to delude myself that Megumi is getting out alive all hinge on Gege being a tortured existentialist who seeks to give meaning.

After all, as a piece of literature, JJK is underscored with a sense of poetic justice that is everything but devoid of meaning.

So basically yeah... This is the tiny bit of positivity I was able to share with you? :') Hopefully it helps!

idk what kind of ending we’ll get. I am picturing something very meta from Gege but don’t ask me to elaborate. I just feel like something very spiritual and big is coming.

But I do hope we get a Watanabe type ending from Gege...

Because the truth is... I don’t believe in happy endings. I believe in Watanabe endings because Watanabe endings capture the existential dread at the core of life simply moving on, with or without you.

And if the ending turns out to be super meaningless and nihilistic, know that there’s only 5k miles between Los Angeles and Tokyo and if we start swimming now we might arrive by the time JJK ends. 

Thanks for stopping by!!!

[r0-boat]

Remember the trans Ingo thing ?

Me neither.

I’m highly intoxicated and ready to make poor decisions, so here have the start of trans!Ingo pt.2 that I’ll never finish :))

That night, Ingo stayed wide awake, only thinking of that man.

His voice, how it sounded whispered in his ear,

His kisses, how Ingo melted in each and every one of them,

His body, how it felt around him,

His warmth, how comforting it was-

Ingo wanted more.

But the man promised to take care of him, so he just had to wait.

That night, he did not sleep, only thinking about all the things the man could do to him.

But he’s so gentle, so kind, he would not be rough, harsh, unforgiving. Would he be as soft and as gentle as his kisses ? Would he hold him like he was fragile glass ? Would he be slow and loving ? Would he.. Would he make love to him ?

He could not shake the praises out of his head ; “my adorable boy” “you did a very good job” “you’re the best”, it kept him spiraling and wet and hot and bothered-

He could not wait until the following day.

For hours he played with himself, for hours he tried to replicate the fingers previously inside of him, but it was not the hero’s, it felt so different, he needed the real thing.

And thus, morning came by, and Ingo was beyond exhausted, only kept awake by sheer will, excitation, and insatiable hunger.

He spent the day cleaning, preparing a meal, training his Pokémon, and praying that the man didn’t betray his words. Ingo hoped so bad, he wanted him so much, he believed he could die at that point if he couldn’t have the hero for himself.

Luckily, a knock on the door was heard, at the end of the day.

Ingo hurried to open it, and was thankful to find the younger man there.

“Evening Warden Ingo ! Sorry for coming in this late.”

The Warden’s legs started to immediately shake, Ingo had to concentrate really hard just to prevent his legs from giving out underneath him.

“Do not worry, you are completely fine, you must’ve been busy all day long. Did you have a safe travel ?” Despite acting normal, Ingo just wanted to be already slammed into a wall and fucked right then and there, and the first thing he could do to arrive at the dock is letting the man enter his house.

“I did ! Thank you for your concern Warden Ingo !”

The way he said “Warden Ingo” suddenly felt odd, like the man was holding back.

Ingo did not want him to hold back, he wanted everything the hero was willing to give him. The man stepped in and quickly went to grab Ingo, before the poor man could touch the floor.

His legs has finally gave out.

-EDS anon

YESSS HES BACK thank you for this snack Eds anon you fucking poetic piece of shit.

[greywindys]

Hey I'm the anon who asked about sad murdoc discourse and thanks for the answer! I can understand that yeah maybe to old fans murdoc changing a bit could be another example of gorillaz going more "PG" and they probably also rightly feel like their losing something else that was nostalgic to them(one dimensional evil murdoc) but while I agree with that I also agree with you that I'm here purely for murdoc and I'm one who enjoys redemptive/healing arcs across all media so this progression was great to see and sort of poetic for the character! As I said earlier too is that murdoc changed "a bit" in that while I see him slowly mellowing out in some fields with the other band members I still am of the belief that murdoc was always a chaotic neutral person just now with some chaotic good moments, not all that diffrent and I hope to see more healing and progression as that was just a small but needed start!(if gorillaz can remain a bit consistent with his character😓)

Yeah, no problem! We're pretty much on the same page re: Murdoc. I never saw him as completely "evil," even during P1 and P2. He's always seems like a complicated, sad little man, but I've also always gotten attached to morally questionable characters, so part of that is just me, and how I interpret things.

Sad Murdoc was such a refreshing change for me because of the points you brought up - redemptive/healing arcs are so satisfying with the right characters. For me, Murdoc is the right character. The descent of Gorillaz embracing capitalism complicated matters, and one could argue that Murdoc was "redeemed" for the wrong reasons.

However, when you place Murdoc's development in the context of the fandom community from 2017-2019, I find his " arc" (calling it that for brevity's sake) unintentionally meta and powerful. I think a lot of new fans don't know or forget how awful certain groups of fans were to Murdoc fans - not even shippers, this was toward anyone who liked Murdoc even a tiny bit. It was hard to have any sort of discussion about him, or share any kind of fanwork without someone reminding you that he was evil and that any nice or neutral thing you brought up about him had to have a disclaimer that none of that actually mattered because he was an irredeemable person who didn't deserve any happiness in his life, ever. So, fast forward to the end of 2019 with TLC video where we see a character who's not this one-dimensional villain receive acceptance in the most straightforward way possible and shatter all the past arguments that he's "evil and you're all just watching Gorillaz wrong." It was incredibly validating for a lot of fans. So, yeah, I understand the perspective of critical fans, but I’ll always be on the side of "Murdoc fans deserved this W."