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adonis-koo · 2 years ago

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wicked • 15

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 13k

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tags: jungkook really loves grabbing mc’s throat, dirty talk, breath play, dom!kook, possessiveness, clit play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation (m & f), vaginal fingering, squirting, wet humping...? is that a thing? slight size kink

Note:I’m so excited to announce chapter 15! I hope you all love it as much as I do, inbox is open for asks and I would love to hear everyones opinions bc im sure yall are gonna be feeling some type of way by the end.

“How dare you accuse my maid of such a thing!” You hissed out from your seat, glaring into Di Jin with a venomous glare, “She is no such thing as an assassin and you should be utterly ashamed of yourself for even thinking of such!”

Di Jin slammed his hands on the stable snarling at you, “Then tell me why she’s been missing from several of her shifts the last month? The only person who would be able to get into your room late into the night with guards posted would be her? There was a second attempt, was there not?”

You shook your head, trying to not let your jaw slackened at the blatant disrespect, “Because I authorized it! Her mother has been deathly ill over the last month and I’ve given her time to be away from the castle to tend to her!”

Di Jin’s nostrils flared as he leaned back in his seat, as he stared at you for a long moment as if a predator sizing its prey, “What a convenient cover, tell me Princess, have you ever seen this sickly mother?”

“I-”

“Have you taken the time to track your servant’s whereabouts when she had stayed out even later than you authorized?” Di Jin growled.

“I will not have my wife being interrogated,” The doors opened once more, Jungkook who had barely been held back on the other side had managed to break in once more, his father still arguing with him, “Not if I have anything to say about this.”

Dae Seong had yanked him back by the shoulder, “You’re going to listen to me boy! Let him do what he needs to if you value her safety at all.”

Jungkook had retaliated by grabbing him by the collar, yanking him closer as he snarled quietly, “If you value anything we still have then you’ll let me be by her side.” Jungkook shoved him away before swiftly walking up to the table.

Di Jin didn’t even attempt to watch their squabble as he stood up from his seat, hands on the table as he leaned in, “Or have you knowingly let her do this?”

“Oh yes,” You sneered standing up as well, challengingly glaring back, “It makes much sense that I’d be the orchestrator behind my own attempted assassination. I may be an outsider and I may not know all the in’s and outs of Penumbra but I will not sit here and let you dictate to me who I am or who my servant is!”

Jungkook puffed a breath in satisfaction at the tongue lashing you were giving the old codger as he went to wrap and arm around you, “We’re going, if you’re finished.”

Di Jin’s nostrils flared at the interruption as you took Jungkook’s hand which had been extended in an offer to help you out of your seat.

“This isn’t over Princess.”

Your eyes burned into his, “You’re right,” You placed your hands on the table as you leaned in closer to him, your voice deathly quiet, “This is just the beginning Di Jin, tread carefully where you walk in these halls.”

Jungkook’s arm found its way around you once more as you allowed him to guide you out of the room, anger visibly trembling off your body as you tried with every breath to calm yourself down.

“We need to speak to the others.” You forced your voice to quiet as you both stepped out of the frigid room.

“I’ve already asked Taehyun to retrieve them all, we’re meeting in Namjoon’s quarters.” Jungkook answered steadily, “We’ll get her back Y/n.”

“I can only hope.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Namjoon shook his head as he looked through the records that covered the small table of his office where everyone sat, “It does look incriminating,” He frowned at your pitiful state as you rubbed your forehead, “And it doesn’t help that you’ve given her unsupervised access outside the gate’s Princess.”

You sucked in a harsh breath as you shook your head, “Had I known Di Jin was going to do this I would’ve had someone go with her…Is Taehyung’s word nothing? He helped her mother after all.”

“Seer’s are not allowed into politics and worldly affairs.” Jungkook shook his head, his hands resting on the arm’s of his chair but seemed to twitch at the way you restlessly shifted in your seat, sitting a hair too far away for his liking, “Even though Taehyung can consort with us in private, his words would be seen as invalid to the court.”

This made your lips quiver into a frown, the one person who could possibly save her was considered…invalid?

“Not only that but Taehyung could potentially jeopardize his position on the Guiding Hand if he tried to speak to court.” Hoseok chimed, leaning back in his chair in thought.

“And if Di Jin snoops about and Taehyung chooses to speak out regardless, he could accuse Taehyung of being another accomplice of hers, putting him in a cell right next to her.” Jimin seemed painfully sullen, his hand resting on his cheek as he frowned.

“What about her mother? Surely we could speak to her?” Hoseok asked.

“They’ve taken her into custody as well,” Jimin replied once more looking as though the whole situation disturbed him, “By possible accomplice of her, and since her mother has been cured of blood rot Di Jin suspects it was never there to begin with.”

Just his words made your hands curl in anger, “This is ridiculous!” Everyone looked at you as you hissed the words out, “What is the meaning behind this? Truly? There has to be an ulterior motive from Di Jin to accuse her of such a thing.”

It was silent for a long time before Namjoon sighed, “Many things are hidden to us right now, perhaps for a reason. All we can do is focus on freeing Wheein.”

“Still,” Yoongi grabbed his chin, “It would be worthwhile to see Wheein’s mother, and someone should speak with Taehyung about this, I’ve yet to see him since the whole incident.”

“I’ll speak with him,” You volunteered yourself, “I’m sure he’s taken the news hard, and I’d like to see too it personally to assure him that we’ll find a way to keep her safe.”

“I’ll go with you then.” Jungkook also spoke up, “Taehyung has likely not taken the news well, and knowing him he’ll want to speak with me directly.

You frowned at this, your heart dully aching at the thought, “The least I can do is apologize to him for letting this happen.” You looked away from Jungkook as you heaved a deep sigh, “This is my fault after all.”

You just wanted to be kind…especially when it was something you could help with, how could it end this way? Wheein had been nothing but kind to you the moment she introduced herself, and this is what she got in return.

Had you been looking at Jungkook you would’ve seen the way his fist curled, aching to reach out to you, to do something, anything to try and ease the severe stress and guilt you were under right now.

It was silent for a long moment before Jungkook spoke, thinking over his words carefully before he redirected himself to the men at the table, “Namjoon, I want you to look back in past schedules of who was on rotation during the nights Wheein went out and I’d like you to speak with them if you feel they’re allegiance is with the Jeons.”

“Hoseok I want you to keep track of Di Jin from now on, try to be covert about it and Jimin…” Jungkook looked across the table at Jimin who seemed to be staring at the wall, as if purposely ignoring the prince, “I know…your relationship with him is distant at best…” Jungkook frowned, “But if there’s any way you could talk to him, make him believe you're on his side…we need to figure out why he’s doing this.”

“Jungkook…” Jimin sighed softly, looking at war with himself and for a brief moment you were confused until you remembered the words Wheein ushered to you many months ago.

‘Jimin was the bastard son of the Head of the Guard’

The pieces were all slowly fitting together, Di Jin having been the old head of guard, which meant he was Jimin’s father…You sunk in your seat, oh dear what a mess things were quickly becoming…

Jimin relented, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Jungkook’s words were sincere, “There’s nothing else to discuss at this time, don’t let me hold you all from your duties.” He waved to them all as everyone stood up, yourself included as you made your way to the exit.

Yoongi opened the door for you as you quietly thanked him before stepping out, an odd absence filling your chest at the realization that Wheein was no longer escorting you to where you went, nor would she stay with you when you asked her too.

The rest of your day felt like a void, you still had your duties to attend to the project in the Market, you had to talk and be social with various businesses, walking them through their future new stores and making arrangements with various vendors about what to get for each shop.

The day had passed before you knew it and yet all you could think about was Wheein, her tear stained eyes and whimpers when you saw her.

It snapped your heart like a twig to even think about, out of everyone, why did Di Jin have to choose her as his target? It just didn’t make sense. And you firmly believed you were not being fooled here, Wheein had been easily the kindest person you had ever met in Penumbra.

Arriving at your and Jungkook’s room it was quiet and chilled in the room making you tremble as you shut the door, only a few candles lit making it difficult to see as you glanced around, realizing you had nobody to help you change.

Your eyes glossed over as you inhaled sharply, you could call for another maid, you should call for another maid. But your stubbornness wouldn’t let you as you stretched your arms towards your back, trying to haphazardly undo the back making your muscles begin to ache and twitch as you huffed.

This went on for several minutes before you finally stopped and frustratedly dropped your arms letting out a quiet sob as you pressed your hands on your eyes, the one person who you trusted with your entire being was being falsely accused of your own attempted murder.

Stress filtered your body once more as you hurriedly tried to push back your tears at the sound of the door opening.

Jungkook had a handful of papers he was reading through when he walked in at the unsightly mess of you halfway dressed and the unmistakable look you always had when you were crying.

He lowered his papers as he looked at you for a long moment.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Your eyes filled with tears once more before you finally gave up trying to hold them in, closing your eyes as you defeatedly let the warm tears trickle down your cheeks.

Jungkook sighed, setting the papers down at the desk before he walked over, “You look pitiful.” Standing in front of you he gently cupped your cheek, pushing the tears from your cheeks, “You should’ve called for a maid.”

“I have a maid!” You hissed out, “And she’s in a dungeon right now for something she didn’t do!” This made you weep once more as you shook your head, “Why would they do this Jungkook? Why? I don’t understand! There isn’t a soul sweeter than Wheein, why would they claim the assassin was her?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook frowned, “But if I had to take a guess, it’s because they want to place distrust among us from the inside,” Jungkook replied steadily, “If we can’t trust even our most loyal servants, how can we trust each other? The seed of doubt eventually blossoms in its own time. I’m not sure how, but the Rosewood’s are most likely the cause of this.”

He gently turned you around before he began to undo the back of your dress, albeit a bit clumsy, but with patience the material slipped off.

“Not only this but if we let this distract us they might be stirring to do another attempt soon.” Jungkook frowned as you turned to face him, “If you die in Penumbra it’s going to trigger a shattering throughout the entire continent. War will be all we know until we’re the last kingdom standing.”

“If that's what it takes for Wheein to live I will gladly die.” You inhaled sharply.

“You will not.” Jungkook grabbed your chin harshly, his eyes glaring into you at your words, “I know you miss her, but crying about it and being unnecessarily self sacrificial isn’t going to get her back.”

His words stung, and the prick of hurt they caused made you shove his hand away, “You may be right but you don’t have to be so cold about it.”

Jungkook tucked his tongue into his cheek as he scoffed, “Well princess, somebody needs to tell you, otherwise god only knows what you’ll do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” You snapped back, not appreciating his bluntness right now, you had come to terms with the fact that Jungkook was nothing like that last love you had known, Seokjin was always dripping in honeyed words and sweet nothings.

He loved to coddle you and dote on your feelings. Jungkook did no such thing, you had for the most part become accustomed to this, but in these moments of vulnerability it stung having your feelings coldly told to stop.

“It means the last time you let your feelings overcome your logic this happened.” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your hand and lifting it as he shook it, the marks on your hands still freshly healed and scars evident, “You were unconscious for two days Y/n. Two days! If you hadn’t been so emotional you wouldn’t be wearing gloves every time we step out of this room.”

It was silent for a long moment as you snatched your hand from his grip as if he had been the one to burn you, eyes watering now but they were glaring at him in hurt and anger and he let out a long sigh, as if realizing he perhaps, went too far.

“As a Eunoian, we are kind and expect no kindness in return. You might look at me as nothing more than an emotional woman, but I would never turn anyone away who needs my help, that is not who I was raised to be, that’s not who I am. Yes it scarred me and no I may not remember all of those events, but I know I helped, I know I made a difference even if it was only for a few people and I will not let you stand here and chastise me over it.” You stared at him for a long moment indignant.

How could he stand here and insult you like this?

Jungkook looked away from you with a briefly strained expression, and you were familiar with it because he always made that face when he was holding his tongue, it made you scoff, “Well you might as well say what you want too, go ahead, get it off your chest since I’m being so emotional.”

“You know what you sound like right now Y/n?” Jungkook chucked bitterly, “You sound like a martyr,” He pointed a finger low at you, “Nobody is asking you to do that here, not a single person. Whether you like it or not you’re the Crowned Princess, your life does matter more then a peasants because the whole fucking world decided to weaponize the little Eunoian Princess nobody would dare hurt as a political tool to make us heel like a bitch.”

Your lip twitched at his words, “Oh I’ve been well aware for the last three damn years what I am to the world! Don’t stand here and try to educate me on that, I knew from the moment I was told I had to marry you that my life didn’t matter more than just being a good bitch to the crown!”

Your eyes watered once more, “That’s what you said on our wedding night and you were right. But it doesn’t change what I believe or how I feel and if that makes me a martyr then so fucking be it! I watched as my own people sent me away with smiles on their faces all pretending as if they hadn’t exiled me from my own country as if I hadn’t given up my studies as a young girl to aide as a healer during the five year war as if I wasn’t allowed to eat if the people were hungry and when we were supposed to celebrate our holidays, we stopped to mourn the burning piles. I knew since I was a child that my life didn’t matter to anyone aside from what I could do or what I could give.”

“It fucking matters to me!” Jungkook’s patience had finally worn, you were suddenly pressed against the wall, his hand wrapped your throat with the most delicate grip as his forehead pressed against yours, “Don’t you get it you stubborn, hard headed woman? Your life matters to me, I don’t care about any tradition or belief you have if it has anything to do with dying. I just got you, I’m not letting you go.”

It was silent for a long moment as you felt his thumb tenderly trace against your windpipe as you sniffled.

“You could’ve just said that without picking a fight. And you didn’t have to be so mean,” Your eyes stung with tears, “Your words do hurt, I know crying won’t get Wheein back, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m terrified of what they might do to her.”

Jungkook’s expression softened ever so slightly as you closed your eyes, a few stray tears trickling down your cheeks, “I would never cry with anyone else like this, so let me do it with you, let me share the deepest parts of my heart with you, my deepest fears and concerns, my doubts and insecurities. You say you want me, that you don’t want to lose me, then show me you want me, all of me, even the parts you don’t like, even the parts you hate.”

“I could never hate you.” Jungkook ushered out quietly, his hand moving from your throat to your cheek, “I’m sorry.”

He kissed your tear stained cheek somewhat hesitantly, “I’m not used to navigating feelings, or emotions, or women…” This made a small smile tug on your lips, one he mirrored briefly as his hand moved to your chin with a little squeeze, “But you talking about willingly letting yourself die makes me upset, anxious and angry, the rest of the world might look at you as nothing more then I tool but I don’t. So value your life, because I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, Wheein would be the first to agree with me.”

It made your lips quiver painfully as you glanced down, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a martyr, but I would do anything to get her back Jungkook,” Your throat strained painfully “Anything.”

Jungkook kept having these impulses every time he looked at you when you were sad, and he hadn’t noticed it until today, but finally, he caved into the feeling of just wanting to hold you.

His arms wrapped around you, letting your head bury into the crook of his neck, your body relaxing into him as he pressed a kiss against your head making your arms squeeze around him tighter, “I know.”

You were already scared and upset with the whole situation, you didn’t want things to be worse if you and Jungkook couldn’t settle your own arguments in the process.

You had hoped maybe a good night of rest would make you feel better, but opening your eyes had only made you feel worse and Jungkook had taken a bit more of a gentle approach today at trying to get you out of bed.

“We’ll need to speak with Taehyung before the morning is over.” Jungkook laid beside you as you tugged the blanket back over your head, rolling your back to him, “He’ll be busy tending to whatever the Seers do during the day. Y/n,” He sighed in exasperation, “I don’t mean to sound like a cunt when I say this but sulking is not going to help. And refusing to talk isn’t helping me.”

Your hands curled around the blanket as you relented with a sigh, “I just…feel overwhelmed by everything, life has to continue on even if Wheein is in the dungeon and even if Di Jin keeps harassing the castle.”

You turned back to face him, “It’s not that I don’t want to do something about it, it’s that I have so many other things I don’t want to do that I have to do, that so many people are counting on me making sure I get it done. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about starting the day knowing I can’t dedicate all of my time to finding a way to help Wheein.”

“There’s only so much you can do about that situation regardless princess,” Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest as he buried into the crook of your neck, “I’ll make sure everything goes accordingly with Wheein.”

You still let out a sigh, curling a little at his hand dragging from your waist down to your thigh as he whispered in your ear, “You wanna know what will make you feel better princess?”

“What?” You mumbled, your curiosity peaked at his tone.

“An orgasm.”

“Jungkook!” You immediately sat up right as you twisted around at the cheeky grin on his face, “This is what you want to focus on when we’re in a situation like this!?”

Jungkook shrugged, “Well I don’t see anything wrong with it, as you said before, life has to continue on and I’m being honest,” He sat up with you, “The first step to getting anything done is letting yourself relax, this is stressful enough as it is, you shouldn’t make yourself anymore taxed then necessary.”

His lips attached to your exposed shoulder, your thin slip that you seemed to wear more often to bed these days didn’t do you much service as the thin strap fell off your shoulder. He moaned softly into your skin as his hands slid to your waist, “Let me make you feel good. Consider it another apology for last night if you must.”

You felt obligated to say no, feeling guilty for even feeling desire at the moment when you were in such a perilous situation, but your head betrayed you, slowly tilted upward to expose your neck as his kiss traveled up, leaving a small trail of love bites along the way.

“Is it…really okay to do this?” You whispered.

“Only if you’re comfortable.” Jungkook pressed a small kiss on the lobe of your ear, “We don’t have too, but I do think it would make you feel better.” You glared at him playfully as he winked.

You shifted a little before you sighed, “Well, what would you have us do?” You shifted a little nervously, there would never be a perfect time to get further intimate with Jungkook, and you would admit, something to take your mind off of things would do you some good, even if for a few minutes.

Jungkook sat up before letting his back rest against the headboard as he gestured you closer, confused you scooted a little closer to him only for his hands to attach to your hips making you squeak in surprise at the way you were suddenly jostled.

You were roughly manhandled into his lap with your back pressed into his chest once more as he pressed another tender kiss to your neck, “Tell me Y/n, have you ever touched yourself before?”

The question caught you off guard making you sputter, “I- what?” You could hardly focus at the sight of his hands resting on top of your thighs, how could you be married to him for nearly nine months and only just now realize how big his hands were.

His fingers were long and thick and his palms were rough and calloused against your soft skin, his fingers curled around your inner thighs, “Have you played with yourself before,” Jungkook let a wicked smirk curl on his lips, “You can’t tell me you haven’t ever been curious about your body.”

Had it always been this warm in the room? Because it felt like you were burning up at the moment, “I mean yes but- I wouldn’t…Call it playing.” You tried to not squirm in his hold as he suddenly parted your legs, your night slip hardly covering your panties.

You had been curious about your body in the past sure but you had never really understood the idea of sexual interest, and therefore you never took part in it, not understanding what the big deal was about.

Jungkook let out a hum as he let his hand stroke from your inner thigh that had you twitching, to your night slip hooking a finger against the fabric as he lifted it, it didn’t take but a small movement to reveal your panties, a shameful damp spot revealing how much your body was receiving him.

“You like this?” He teased lightly, a hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing lightly making a breathy noise escaping you and your legs instinctively parted further for him, “You like putting your cunt on display for me?”

“Jungkook…” You had to shut your eyes at the lewd sight, your shoulders scrunching in embarrassment, why did he have to be so crass?

“Take your panties off.” Jungkook’s voice a few tones deeper and a little raspier than normal as his grip on your throat tightened making a more strained moan escape you shook your head, “No?” He snorted at your defiance, his free hand stroking your thigh down to your cunt making you jump before he cupped it, his palm digging into your clit making you whine out sharply.

Your hips lifted immediately, trying to grind into his hand unsuccessfully.

“If you want me to play with this pretty clit you have to take the panties off sweetheart,” Jungkook said, amused at the sight.

“Jungkook, this is embarrassing!” You whined quietly to him, “What if somebody were to walk in right now?”

“Let them.” He scoffed, “See if I give a damn who watches. In fact I hope somebody does,” Jungkook’s grip suddenly tightened on your throat making you wheeze a heady moan as he growled in your ear, “So they can see who you belong to. I wasn’t lying when I said this was my cunt, so take off the fuckin’ panties and show me who it belongs too.”

The sudden guttural demand in his voice had you scrambling to obey as you shaky fingers curled around your panties, peeling them off before you awkwardly kept your legs closed. This however changed quickly at Jungkook’s hands, once more finding their way to your thighs as he pried them out making you whimper out at the cold air seeping against your cunt.

“Fuuck.” Jungkook moaned against your skin and you could feel his heavy, thick cock harden against your lower back, “Your soaked baby. Look.” He didn’t give you a choice as he grabbed you by a thick chunk of hair making you whine as he forced you to look down.

Your face felt like it was on fire at the sight of your body contorted in such a lewd position, your cunt was indeed on display and for a brief moment you couldn’t think of something more unsightly than this.

This was what men were attracted to? Your lips were puffy and parted covered in stickiness, pubic hair sticking out unfrayed and your clit was engorged, throbbing at just the fact you were actually able to look at it.

Jungkook’s lips pressed in your neck with another moan, “Fuck princess, you have such a pretty cunt, and nobody has ever played with it at all?”

“No,” You whined out, “I already told you Jungkook, I’ve never been with someone intimately, at least for myself. Do you have to..stare?” You felt self conscious on display like this.

“When it looks good enough to eat how can I not?” Jungkook scoffed, his free hand unable to resist the urge to drag along your sticky slit, your cunt puffy and wet as his fingers reached your clit.

A moan suddenly strangled through your parted lips, whining softly at watching his digits circle your clit as your hips buckled into him with another whimper as he moaned, “Fuck baby, you’ve never touched your clit?” He said it as if he was genuinely in confusion at how you possibly couldn’t have touched yourself before.

“I have,” You whimpered out, “It just didn’t feel good.” It didn’t feel like this, that was for damn sure, just watching his fingers skillfully glide over your clit at your back trying to arch, before they quickly started rubbing back and forth, playing with your clit like it was a little toy.

Jungkook switched from that to suddenly squeezing it between his pointer finger and middle finger, making another raspy, desperate noise escape your hips started to lift up to chase after the friction, “Jungkook please! Please don’t tease me.” You whimpered out desperately.

Jungkook chuckled at this, releasing your clit from his fingers just to pinch it once more with his thumb and pointer finger, “You’re so needy, every time I try something new you moan even louder.”

He pinched it even harder making you yelp at the painful pleasure that washed over you before he roughly circled it again, “Keep moaning sweetheart, it lets me know what you like and what you don’t.”

That's when you realized he meant what he was saying, his eyes were low but inquisitive, as if trying to figure out what made you tick, what made your body squirm the hardest, what made you moan the loudest, your body was a map he was determined to not only study but memorize.

Your hand frantically found his as you whimpered, “Right there! Kook, right there! Please.” The pleasure had your muscles clenching as the pad of his finger kept rubbing that sweet spot on the side of your clit that had your back arching and whines becoming increasingly loud.

Jungkook chuckled in your ear, “Look at you, using my hand to make yourself cum, that’s a little greedy for a Eunoian. Are you gonna cum princess?”

He watched, mesmerized by the way your body contorted and bounced as you grinded against his fingers, which were completely soaked in your arousal as he feathered his pad over your sweet spot.

The straps to your slip had finally fallen to your shoulders, causing your top to finally slip down, making your tits fall out as you fell apart on his fingers, your eyes squeezing shut and your body convulsing at the pleasure that was blossoming so quickly in your cunt.

“Cum baby, I know you want to.” Jungkook teased, “I know that little clit feels good, let yourself cum princess.”

Jungkook let out a grunt at the sight of your lips falling slack, moans suddenly ripping from your throat as you whines became high pitched, hands suddenly clawing at his neck, yanking at his hair as you came.

“Mmm what a good girl.” Jungkook moaned into your neck, his cock throbbing so hard he felt like he could pass out, it was one thing to imagine these types of moments with you, but to actually be able to experience them was a different kind of pleasure he didn’t even know could exist.

Your mind was so hazy from your orgasm you hardly noticed his fingers stroking your cunt before a single digit circled your entrance, playing with it a little as Jungkook carefully coated his finger in your arousal before he pushed in it.

“Ow!” You suddenly yelped in a very unsexy way, jolting up right and out of your hazy post orgasm feeling as you whimpered out at the sight, “Jungkook! Ah…! It hurts!” You whined in complaint, his finger felt foreign inside of you and just like you knew, it was thick and bigger then your own and the stretch made your cunt dully ache.

“Wow, so Seokjin really never touched you?” Junkook said it as if he was examining to see if you were actually telling the truth.

You lip curled as you snapped, “Did we not establish that I was a virgin on our wedding night? Why are you so hyperfixated on this?”

“Because,” Jungkook rested his chin on your shoulder, pulling his finger from your cunt making you sigh in relief as he dragged it back up to your clit, tapping it, “The idea of anyone- let alone him getting to see this makes me want to travel all the way to Kimhae and fucking kill him.”

He pushed his finger back in but much to your surprise it didn’t hurt, you seemed almost taken aback by this, watching in morbid fascination as his thick finger sunk deeper into your cunt, your legs parting a little further for him.

You moaned quietly at his finger testingly pushing up before he thrusted it a little inside you making you whine as your hips lifted and lowered a little to chase the feeling.

“Just the idea of him getting to see this pretty little fucked out face makes me livid,” Jungkook whispered, unable to even be angry at the moment before of the expression your wore, your pupils were blown out and your lips parted at the sight of his finger now rhythmically pumping into you before he pushed a second one in.

It made you wince at the uncomfortable fit, before Jungkook pulled both fingers out and pushed them back in making your lips tremble at watching them sink deeper and deeper into your cunt, your walls clenching around him as he buried them both until his knuckle were flush against your skin.

“Fuck…” You whimpered out, closing your eyes at the overwhelm of being able to feel his fingers so deep inside your cunt, Jungkook, “‘s not fair, wanna make you feel good too…”

“Sweetheart, shit, you are so fucked out on my fingers, imagine what it’s gonna be like when you’re taking my cock.” Jungkook moaned in your ear, feeling your walls wrap tight around his fingers at his words as he pumped them in a little rougher, making a point to rub his fingertips against the top of your walls.

It felt as if he was searching for something and you didn’t realize what it was until you felt it, his fingers pushing particularly deep this time, hooking as pleasure suddenly shot through your body making you lurch and a loud moan rip from your lips.

“Fuck there it is, that’s it sweetheat.” Jungkook’s fingers viciously began to attack this spot, rapidly lifting into the spot as his thrusts began short and rough.

The pleasure had you contorting in painful positions as you whined slurred words out, “Wanna make you feel good too, Kook! Please, please!”

“Dammit sweetheart, this is supposed to be about you.” Jungkook growled in frustration at how hard his cock was because you kept moaning about this.

“Wan’ it.” You whined out moaning loudly, his fingers unforgivingly hooking into that spot roughly, you could feel his other arm against your back maneuvering in awkward ways and though you were very pleasured it was difficult to not notice.

You didn’t understand what he was doing until you saw it, or more like it saw you. His cock suddenly appeared just inches below your cunt, it bobbed a little, smacking against you making you jolt in shock, even with pleasure still blossoming in your body your mouth dried.

It was so…big

You had felt it before but you had never seen it, and it was so thick and fat, just like his hand, his cock had the prettiest thick vein and it curved just slightly, his head was fat and bulbous, a painful shade of red showing just how hard he had been this whole time and precum kept dribbling from his slit.

“You wanted it that fuckin’ bad.” Jungkook grabbed your hand before, guiding it past your cunt to wrap around his cock, “Wanna’ feel that wet little cunt.” He guided your hand to give it a few tugs, before he lowered your body a little, your cunt pressing against the top base of his cock, making you let out a breathy moan.

His fingers started properly thrusting into you once again as you body twitched, eyes nearly rolling back into your head at the stimulation of the feeling of his fat cock being covered in your arousal, your hand giving sloppy, frantic tugs against his cock making him moan into your shoulder.

Your hips quickly start trying to rut into his as you grabbed his hand, forcing his fingers out of your cunt as you rubbed it against his shaft, letting your clit press against it with a loud whine, reaching down to squeeze his fat balls.

“Fuck, fuck fuck baby, ‘m gonna cum.” Jungkook moaned into your neck as his hips started to rut into you, his eyes hazily watching his cock slide between your glossy lips, arousal messily covering his cock as his tip roughly dragged over your clit making slurred moans escape you.

“Wan’ you to cum.” You mewled out watching in desperation at the idea of this being inside of you, how would you even be able to take it without being torn in half? His fat tip reached your belly button.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, holding it against your cunt as Jungkook’s hips became more frantic, “Gonna fuckin’ cum all over you if you keep saying that sweetheart.”

“Cum! Cum, cum please! Wan’ you to cum all over my cunt.” You whined and begged at the sight of precum dripping from his tip.

Jungkook swore out with a growl, his hands digging into your hips, “Bet you wish this was your cunt right now I was fucking, this little cunt is so tiny I don’t even think you could take half of my cock sweetheart.”

“Kook!” You whimpered out at his forceful, frantic thrusts, one hand lifting your leg up further as his fat tip rubbed past your clit once more.

“Oh don’t worry baby, I’ll fuck you in this exact position.” Jungkook smirked wickedly against your neck, “I’ll make you watch every fuckin’ second of it too. Fuck princess,” He moaned his hips began to slow, eager to drag out the last moments before he’d finally cave, his cock sliding through your lips once more, he could feel your engorged little bud as he bulbous tip rubbed against it making you whine before let out a deep moan.

Cum spewed from his tip as your mouth dried at the sight, his thrusts stopped in nirvana but your hand kept tugging his cock in awe, wanting every last drop he had to offer as he moaned wetly against your skin.

His thighs clenched as he moaned, “Fuck princess, that’s it, yeah fuck, just like that.” He moaned encouragingly in your ear as you stroked his shaft, causing another gob of cum to spill from his tip, this time dribbling down onto your stomach as you reached down further to play with his fat soft balls while using your other hand to tug at his base.

“Fuuck baby.” He moaned into your skin his cock trying to soften but he showed now signs of stopping you despite the increased sensitivity before a spurt of cum shot out before he started swearing out, biting his lip as the pain and pleasure heightened.

Jungkook let out a breathy moan at the pain of your hand wrapping around his cock, roughly thrusting as he jolted and jumped but at no point did he stop you, in fact he seemed to enjoy the pain and just like magic, you watched his cock start to harden again.

Growing just as monstrous as it was before.

You moaned raggedly before you shifted a little, setting yourself upright before dragging your cunt along his shaft, your hips dragging against it with a loud moan as Jungkook growled out, “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum again baby, relax.”

You let out a breathy giggle, collapsing your back against his chest as you spread your legs once more, resuming your original position as you pressed his cock back against your cunt, pumping it rapidly, his muscles twitched rapidly before his hips caved.

Roughly thrusting up into you again as his cock slid between your cunt once more before cum suddenly spurted once more, covering your already messy stomach in even more cum as you moaned, gently tugging his cock to coax more cum, it dribbled and leaked, not nearly as big of a load this time as Jungkook moaned his hips swiveling to prolong his orgasm.

His cock began to soften and his hand suddenly grabbed your wrist to stop from trying to get it up again, “This was supposed to be about you,” Despite his post orgasm haze he still growled in displeasure, “Fucking brat.”

One moment his hand was wrapped around your wrist, the next it had released it and shoved two fingers inside you, suddenly fucking you hard and fast making you whine out loud, his thumb somehow managing to rub into your clit causing your back to arch and a loud moan to escape.

“Yeah? Doesn’t fuckin’ feel good after the first one.” Jungkook taunted you as he roughly thrusted his fingers inside you, his thumb teasingly circling your sensitive clit as your thighs twitched, your eyes glued to the way he was buried knuckles deep into your cunt.

“Fuck, fuck, kook, ah…! Ah.” Your whines were getting louder and louder much to his delight, your walls getting tighter and tighter each time his fingertips jammed into your g-spot and his thumb found that sweet little spot on your clit with each pass.

“Doesn’t feel nice cumming so fast does it?” He growled out, “Go, cum like you made me. Get it everywhere. Can feel this little cunt squeezing around me, you gonna squirt all over the bed? Bet you don’t even fuckin’ know what that is babydoll.”

The pleasure was becoming so strong it started to become uncomfortable in your cunt, your walls suddenly began to rapidly relax and squeeze at each of his fingers thrusts, his fingertips rubbing into your g-spot and his thumb dragging over your clit.

“Feels weird! Kook’ ah..! You whimpered out, body frantically contorting and your cunt blossoming in a weird pleasure.

“I got you sweetheart,” Jungkook moaned in your ear, “‘s gonna feel so good princess, c’mon ‘s gonna feel so fuckin’ good.”

You rapidly shook your head, your walls rapidly clenching and your muscles spasming as Jungkook’s thrusts became short and rough, his thumb rubbing rough circles into your abused clit, “Cum.”

The single word made a scream rip from your throat, tears tricking down your face as you came, liquid suddenly spewed from your tiny hole as Jungkook moaned, “Good girl, fuck, get it everywhere baby, fuck yeah, that’s it.”

The pleasure was so intense you were in tears, sobbing out moans as his fingers pulling out of you, to rub your clit making you throw your head back against him before his fingers shoved back inside you rapidly thrusting making more liquid spew from your hole as your body convulsed, “F-fuck!” You cried out loud.

You were positive you blacked out for one blissful moment before Jungkook released his fingers from you with a long moan, his hands comfortingly rubbing down your waist.

“Fuck princess,” He kissed your neck with feathery kisses, “My good girl did so good. Good girl.” Your eyes felt heavy at the feeling of his kiss.

Just his words drew a whine from you, his hands coaxingly rubbing your thighs as he pressed a wet kiss against your neck, “Mm, we need to get dressed.”

“You can’t just do this to me and then leave me.” You whimpered out, grabbing hands to wrap them back around you once more.

Jungkook snorted at this, another kiss traveling further up your neck, “We’ll be leaving together in case you forgot.”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

“You are, without a doubt, the most stubborn women I’ve ever met.” Jungkook mused, “And possibly more than I ever bargained for.”

You could indeed walk, though a bit awkward at first while Jungkook helped you dress, it didn’t surpass your eyes, the tug on his lips in amusement with every wobble or need to grab his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

If this was the aftermath of him only using his fingers, you can’t possibly imagine when he…Just the thought made you suck in a deep breath. Jungkook eyes flickered to your form, your arm hooked around his as you both made your way through the castle.

“Have you noticed?” He asked, eyes lingering on you only for a moment longer before looking ahead once more.

You could only assume he was insinuating at everyone’s stares and whispers.

“It’s rather difficult to not.” You muttered.

After exiting the courtyard and passing through the meadow to the entrance of the forest, only after you passed through the tall oak tree’s, did you feel you could breath. The sound of birds trilling and the sun lazily peaking through the naked branches gave you a sense of peace you had nearly forgotten about it.

Leaves crunched beneath your feet as your eyes wandered over the vastness of the forest that seemed to stretch on and on, now that the tree’s were naked it seemed the forest was so much more barren than before.

“Does it look like this? In Eunoia?” Jungkook asked, noting your gaze that seemed to wander.

“Somewhat,” You admitted, “Winters are mild at best in Eunoia- at least in comparison to Penumbra. The most we get is a bit of a frost on the coldest days, just enough for leaves to fall- not all though. Many still stand their ground.”

“Frost on the coldest days?” Jungkook’s head snapped to look at you as if you said something bizarre.

This caused a reluctant smile to tug on your lips as you curled your arm around his further, “Yes, some have called Eunoia the capital of the Sun. Our days are always sunny and warm, we’ve never known a true winter.��

“I can tell,” Jungkook replied, his eyes drifted from yours to your attire, “Is that why you’re dressed like it’s already snowed?”

You looked down at the thick warm sleeves of your dress,they were dramatically long, going far past your hands though a slit made it easy to use your hands if needed, the color a deep maroon that could be mistaken for black if one didn’t pay attention.

“There was frost on the ground this morning.” You replied, a huff escaping your lips, “I suppose the odd looks the servants gave me when I requested my winter wardrobe make sense now.”

You were too embarrassed to admit you were still cold, even in a winter gown, your dress even collared around your neck, making you feel admittedly strangled but any warmth was welcomed.

“How will you survive winter here if you can’t make it past the first brisk frost without one of the thickest gowns in your wardrobe?” Jungkook mused, making you glare at him, a pout sporting on your lips.

“Thickest gowns? This?” You gestured to yourself making him chuckle as he shook his head, “Well that simply won’t do at all, I’ll go to the seamstress myself if I must, I may be married into Jeon royalty but I don’t carry your northern blood.” The pout was still prominent on your lips, “Your brisk day is one of Eunoia’s coldest days, need I reiterate?”

Jungkook shook his head but the smallest of smiles tugged on his lips, “As if you didn’t have enough gowns as it was, I’ll be sure to let the seamstress make your request known.”

“Well you’re the one that handles my wardrobe,” Your pupils narrowed, “Now that I think about it, why shouldn’t I be the one in control of it? After all, I am the one wearing them.”

“Because i’d like to think in someways-” You gasped at suddenly being pushed against the thick, tall oak that stood proud, “You enjoy giving me control.” Jungkook’s hand snaked around your head, grabbing a fist full of hair as he gave it a small yank, “If your display this morning was anything to go by.”

“Jungkook.”

It was not your voice who said his name however, within a second Jungkook had let you go, the air around you both sobering by the second as Jungkook looked over his shoulder, “Taehyung.” He nodded, a frown setting on his lips as you somewhat flusteredly brushed off your dress.

Just seeing the look on Taehyung’s face made a tidal wave of guilt wash over you. How could you stand here and act like a girl with a crush when someone’s life was at stake?

You peered from behind Jungkook and one look was all it took for the sickening feeling to rush back into your stomach once more, Taehyung looked vehement, his eyes tired and anger evident if his icy glare was anything to go by.

“Have you both come to celebrate? Now that you’ve finally captured the assassin.” Taehyung’s lip twitched as his eyes burned into you.

“Celebrate?” You echoed in hurt, immediately stepping past Jungkook, “Taehyung I would never celebrate this! We are doing everything in our power to get her back I-”

“Well you were the one who let her go to begin with,” He hissed out lowly, his glowering from his hooded figure, “How am I to know that maybe this wasn’t just a calculated tactic?”

You felt your throat dry at his words, it was one thing to handle Jungkook when he was being unfair to you, but how would you deal with another? Let alone one of the first of Penumbra’s kin to show you kindness.

“Calculated tactic?” The hurt in your voice was evident, making Taehyung’s nostrils flair.

“Yes, after all rumors of you-”

“Enough.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the air like ice, an arm wrapped around you pulling you closer to his side, “We’ve come in grief and sobriety to apologize this is happening and that we are going to get Wheein back. I understand you’re upset, within reason to be,”

Jungkook’s pupils narrowed as his voice grew as cold as the chilled wind that blew by, “But heed your words to my wife and your future Queen.”

You were too stunned to even speak, hurt still expressed on your face at the insinuation that you had purposely done this to her, you would never!

Taehyung’s lip twitched, “Is that a threat, Your Highness?”

“My words are plain,” Jungkook replied, his eyes cutting low, “Take them as they are, we’ll leave you to be.”

“That would be for the best.” Taehyung’s hood lowered if only a little, those gray eyes glaring into you and even when you walked away from him you could feel his gaze burning into your back.

To say you were horrified, was an understatement.

While Jungkook did not wish to depart with you he had reluctantly done so, but not before trying to ease your distraught at Taehyung’s words, what was he going to say if Jungkook had let him finish?

It made you anxiously pick at your nails, hardly able to even focus on your book as you heard a voice clear making you glance up. Namjoon gave a small bow and a sad smile, “How have your studies been coming along Princess?”

“Terribly,” You admitted with a sigh, “How do you not let something consume you Namjoon?”

It was a rhetorical question you had been asking yourself all day as you stared up at the ceiling, murals of battles painted in glorious displays, ones you had seen while walking in but had never paid attention to until now.

“I think,” Namjoon paused as if to gather his thoughts, “Love is a worthy contender to be consumed by.”

This made your gaze shoot back down at him as you cocked your head to the side as he smiled wryly, “Apologies, I enjoy a good tragedy every now and then. Love can consume, but it can also save, you should honor your emotions where they’re at. These are unprecedented times.”

“That is a particular choice of words.” You mumbled staring down at your book but no matter how hard you tried, words were simply words, not a sentence nor a passage that gave your mind any relief to its occupied thoughts.

“They are, but it’s the truth,” Namjoon frowned as he looked away, “Princess…” He paused as if debating his words, “Many things are afoot right now, the expansion on the East has officially been put on hold, the west is stirring with restlessness, and now Di Jin has been enlisted to reopen a fresh wound of Mabon.”

“What is it you are trying to say Namjoon.” You sighed as you looked up at him, you wished everyone would stop speaking to you in riddles, why was it you could not hear Taehyung’s full words? Even if they were hurtful, you had the right to know.

“I am saying…that though we may not fully understand why these things are happening, to be prepared Princess.” Namjoon gave you one last smile before he stood up and gave you a small bow before departing.

You sank further into your seat as you let out a small sigh, “Fucking hell.”

“That kind of language is not befitting of a Princess.”

You jumped upright in your seat once more at the voice that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, your eyes darted to your right where the beautiful- yet ugly sight of the Rosewood Knight Claudin appeared from.

“Are you here to just mock me?” Your voice grew cold as your eyes glared at him, time may have moved forward but his attempted assault on you and siding with Seohyun was not easily forgotten.

This made a thin, snake like smile tug on Claudin’s lips, “Anything but, Your Highness.”

Your hands slowly curled into fists as your patience wore thin, you had been known by your family to have a temper your whole life- this was without a doubt true, but to consider violence? This was a first, and right now Claudin’s face was looking more and more like a punching bag each time he spoke.

“You’re tired of everyone speaking to you in riddles? Isn’t that right?” Claudin strolled closer to you making you frown but did not speak further. He paused for a moment only to smile once more, your curiosity was piqued.

“Then let me speak plainly to you Princess,” He kneeled down in front of you, “Penumbra’s trust in you is failing, immensely with each passing day. They no longer trust you. Dare I say some never did.”

It was an ugly truth that made you want to vehemently deny it, “What have I done to warrant this!? I have done nothing but try my best to become a Penumbrian.”

“I know Princess,” Claudin’s voice is oddly soft, as if laments for you, “But it is not what you’ve done, it is what Eunoia has done.”

“...What of my homeland?” You frowned, your gaze weary and catious, could you truly trust anything that came from this man’s mouth?

Jungkook hadn’t mentioned anything about Eunoia to you.

Claudin frowned at this, “I thought you would’ve heard Princess…” He paused for a moment as if gauging your reaction, “Eunoia has enlisted their kingdoms people into fortifying an army with Kimhae.”

“Eunoia would never-”

“I am merely telling you what’s been running rampant on the streets,” Claudin replied calmly, still kneeled at your feet, “Telling you what nobody else dare does, you want plain words, here they are. It’s come across to Penumbra, that Eunoia is conspiring with Kimhae. Why else would they need an army?”

“What source did you get this from?” Your lip twitched in anger.

“Source?” Claudin smiled in humor, “This is common knowledge Princess. Or has the Prince just really kept you this in the dark? And from your own kin at that...”

You don’t even know what possessed you in the moment but your temper had finally gotten the best of you, slapping him right across the face, “Enough! I won’t listen to any more of these lies of your weaving,” You stood up, towering over him as you glowered, “I don’t know what game you’re playing Rosewood, but it’s going to get you killed.”

“But these are not lies Princess,” Claudin gritted his teeth, his hand grabbing your wrist making you try to yank away, “If you do not believe me, then perhaps you should go out into the streets yourself. Learn the truth nobody else in this castle will tell you.”

You only managed to escape his grip from wringing your hand from the silk black glove you wore. The material still in his hand as you briskly walked out of the room.

What did he know anyways? Eunoia, conscripting an army? Only the coldest day in hell would see that through.

Even long into the night you still laid awake, mind restless as you shuffled in bed, laying down as you glanced at the dark hair of your husband who had been exhausted from the day, soundlessly sleeping beside you.

His hair was darker then you remembered upon first meeting him and it was a fair bit longer too, now brushing over his lids as he slept, moving a little as if discontented, his hands extended out in reach of something.

Your eyes stared at his hand, only an inch away from where it had been resting on your waist previously before you had shifted for a little space to move about without disturbing him.

Just because you couldn't sleep didn’t mean he didn’t deserve too.

Had he really been withholding information about Eunoia from you? You had been aware from the beginning that being in the castle kept you isolated to a certain degree, and that you would slowly become out of the loop of politics of the outside world due to being an outsider and Jungkook’s wife.

But you…something swelled in your chest, there was no denying you and Jungkook had grown close over these last few months, if you both sharing a bed willingly every night was any assumption to go on.

So surely he would’ve told you this information had he known it, and he would have to know this, because he was the Crowned Prince, heir to the throne, which meant, Claudin was surely lying.

Yes, Claudin was simply lying to get under your skin and weasel his way to further his agenda, whatever that was.

You closed your eyes contented, intending to shuffle a little closer to Jungkook once more, who’s brows were pinched, still in a sign of discontentment.

‘Meet me in the Fool’s Barrel at past 2 if you seek the truth’

Your eyes snapped back open at the memory of the single sentence left on a piece of parchment at your nightstand earlier before you finally got up, quietly standing before you glanced back at Jungkook, the night was long after all, and surely he wouldn’t miss you in the time you’d be gone.

With that you shuffled through your wardrobe for something suitable for the occasion before going over to Jungkook’s side of the bed, grabbing the sheathed knife from his stand before pressing a gentle kiss atop of his head.

The parchment was rolled tightly in your grip and your dull brown hood was pulled low as you managed to sneak out during the guards rotation and Yoongi was talking with a fellow guard at the corner of the corridor.

The halls were dark and dim and just as this morning you felt stifled here, at the gates of the courtyard did you finally consider that this was reckless, if not entirely stupid.

Did it truly matter whether you knew or not?

Your hand nearly crumpled the paper in anger, it did matter to you, it was your right to know what people thought of you, good or bad, and nobody had the right to keep that from you.

Your hand ghosted over the dagger strapped to your waist before you fixed your hood once more stepping outside the gate.

The tavern was lively and bustling, unshocking for this hour, nobody paid you any mind with your hood as low as it was, unsuspecting that they were amidst their princess, searching through the tavern, the very same one you had made a total fool of yourself in earlier in the year, you found the person you were looking for.

Claudin was leaned against one of the wooden beams, a hood on himself and a cat like smirk coiling on his lips as he held up your missing glove, “Here to take my offer Princess?”

You snatched it from his hand, “If you so much as even put a hand on me, I will slit your throat.” You whispered to him.

This made him chuckle as if amused, “So the Eunoian bitch really does have a temper to match the title. Follow me Princess.”

The Eunoian Bitch.

You weren’t that familiar with the title until you had come to Penumbra and your husband had made you well acquainted with it, and though you never inquired further about it to Wheein it wasn’t difficult to tell how the title had come about.

You wouldn’t deny your temper, Jungkook had gotten to see it in full force when you first married, the title once upon a time insulted you but you had grown past it at this point, you wouldn’t be insulted, it seemed men loved to call you a bitch because you were not a pushover.

Men were allowed to throw tantrums all the time without the blink of an eye, Dae Seong was living proof of it and yet nobody gave him a title for it.

You had followed behind Claudin closely as he exited through the backside of the tavern and led you down the increasingly narrow halls of the city that you didn’t even think existed, it was as if he was leading you to something of secret.

And after Claudin had weaved and webbed his way through these increasingly dark and unsettling alleyways did you realize, this was exactly what he was doing, you heard the commotion before you saw it.

Exiting the alleyway to reveal a well lit area of what looked like a crowded market place, though the stalls could hardly be seen as such.

Claudin looked up from his hood towards ahead and then at you, “Welcome to the Underside. If you want information, this is where you shall find it.”

Your eyes had gone wide at all the spectacles as you followed beside Claudin, fixing your hood a little lower as you watched a man breath fire from his mouth and the loud cackling of women before the shouts of a thief that shoved between you both.

It was clear, you were in the belly of Penumbra’s criminal activity, just the thought made your hand ghost over the wickedly curved dagger strapped to your hip. You had never shed blood other than your own before, you had taken an oath to never kill when you had first become a healer during the five year war, not only this but as a part of the royal family of Eunoia you had to vow that not only would you never kill but you would never devour as your earlier predecessors once did.

You could hardly stomach the sight of watching someone be killed, let alone killing someone yourself, but Penumbra had a certain way of hardening you these days. After all, you did just threaten to slice Claudin’s neck open if he tried anything on you.

This was unsafe, and surely reckless, but you wanted answers and you wouldn’t back out now to get them. Claudin seemed delighted by the sternness in your expression, refusing to back away from the danger of this perilous situation as he guided you through the rowdy streets.

Rounding the corner there was a crowd ahead making you tilt your head as you glanced at Claudin who only nodded ahead, both of you coming closer to the spectacle that you immediately deduced was a mockery of…you.

Your lip twitched in simmering anger at the mockery dress and hair of a man who’s voice pitched high, annoyingly so as he flounced about with the narrator, vacillating between ditsy and vexing.

“This is how they view you,” Claudin leaned in at your side as the crowd cackled at the man, “A predator dressed as prey, a Eunoian spy, here to cause our downfall.”

“Now whatever shall our Bitch do!? Attempted murder afoot but wait! What is this between her breasts!”

Your expression was deadpan as you watched the man grab a scroll from between his fake set of breasts, one even falling out revealing a bundle of cloth making everyone gag, “Ahem!” He coughed out high pitch, unrolling it as he read, “Oh dear husband! It appears my kingdom is on our borders! How could you not have seen? This was my plan all along!”

They placed a crown on his head which warranted boo’s from the crown, “Down with The Eunoian Bitch!” Someone cried from the crowd.

You shook your head unable to watch any longer as you brushed past Claudin, eyes darting between the various sights on the streets, a group of four men continuously kicking a young boy, the prostitute against the wall with a man, and on the far side a crowd of people cheering as they threw darts and knives at wall, a poor imagine of your face as the target.

“You’re upset.” Claudin followed after you with a remark.

“Of course I’m upset!” You hissed out, whirling around, “I’m being accused of something I didn’t do! My entire country is being accused of something we didn’t do- haven’t even done! Take me back to the castle.”

Claudin shifted his foot with exasperation but was cut short with the cold metal pressing into his neck, “I said take me back to the fucking castle, now.”

Claudin held up his hands in a mock of surrender, “You and your husband share an odd similarity of barbarously threatening me.”

Your lip twitched and your grip on the blade didn’t relent, “Maybe if you weren’t such a cunt that wouldn’t happen to you. Castle. Now.”

“If you so wish, my Princess.” Claudin resisted no more as you sheath your weapon following stiffly behind him the whole way home.

A spy…they thought you were a spy sent by Eunoia? You had learned to ignore the slanders thrown your way, but to have your whole kingdom’s credibility question? As if Eunoia didn’t house the fallen kingdom of Seoul? As if Eunoia wasn’t held responsible and damn near torn apart by the continent when Penumbra raised?

It was beyond just an insult, it was treasonness to even think about it.

The castle was…much busier than when you had left, Claudin departed with you at the gates as you dismissed him, arriving by yourself only to swear at the sight of your knight walking towards you with hell's fury.

“Where the hell have you been Princess!” Yoongi hissed out, grabbing your arm vehemently, “Do you want the Prince to kill me?”

“Shit,” You ushered out, “What’s happened?”

Yoongi gritted his teeth, “You mean to ask what’s going on after you snuck out past hours without telling me or anyone else, let alone your husband, what’s going on?”

You deserved to be reprimanded, you knew that much but that didn’t mean you wanted to deal with it, you groaned, “Did he call for a search?”

“Of course he did, Jungkook nearly had my head on a pike when I told him I thought you were with him,” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, “Where were you?”

“...” You said nothing for a long moment, your expression troubled as you sighed, Jungkook was not supposed to wake up to find you missing, how were you supposed to tell him you went into the depths of a crime ridden area only to discover many ugly truths tonight, ones he had most likely kept hidden from you.

“Where did you go Princess?” Yoongi ushered, now concerned.

“I went to the Underside.”

“Fucking hell!” Yoongi ran a hand through his head again, “Do you know how incredibly stupid that was! Without anyone to protect you!? Penumbra may not be as pious as other kingdoms but rumors still run rampant.”

“Yes,” Your gaze grew cold, “I’ve become aware as much.”

Yoongi frowned at this, and you could tell by the look on his face he knew, they all knew, didn’t they? “Come along Princess, let’s get you into the parlor, the others are trying to keep Jungkook from ripping the city apart to find you.”

You felt a stab of guilt at his words as you followed alongside him into the castle where residents all gawked at you as you kept your hood up, covering your face from their judgmental looks.

Yoongi weaved his way through the corridors before the doors of the parlor were opened, the first person to whip around being the distraught figure of your husband.

“Y/n.”

Your hood was pulled down before he immediately embraced you, his muscles which had been previously tensed had relaxed as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, “You worried me sick,” He chastised you, “Where did you go? You should’ve told Yoongi- better yet taken him with you!”

Jungkook cupped your cheeks as he pulled you away a little to inspect your face, making sure you were uninjured, “I’m sorry,” You mumbled, lips quivering only a little in both hurt and confusion at everything you were digesting.

“Where did you go, Y/n?” Jungkook asked you once more, this time his voice was a little more calm, releasing you upon hearing you try to clear your dry throat.

Walking over to the table where a pitcher of water was, you poured yourself a glass, glancing between your husband to the two other figures in the room, both his aunt and uncle, Areum and Jeong Dae as the least wanted person at this time walked into the room.

“Ah what coincidental timing.” Di Jin had walked in behind you, everybody's eyes staring at him for a long moment, “Because I just received word that the Princess was spotted coming out of the Underside.”

The room erupted into worse chaos then you could have expected. “My wife would never step foot in that pit you caused.” Jungkook snarled out.

“It’s true.” You muttered, unable to see the two men baring teeth at one another and despite your low tone it caused silence throughout the whole room.

“Out. The lot of you, these are matters for the family only.” Areum’s voice followed after you as her eyes narrowed on both your friends and servants alike and with that everyone departed.

“Feeling honest, are we Princess?” Di Jin looked haughty at you.

“Y/n,” Jungkook’s voice was wrought with anger, though it was obvious he was trying to keep himself calm, “Why?”

It was like the dam you held your anger in snapped out, rushing out and into every vein in your body as you slammed your cup down, “Why don’t we talk about how everyone’s been keeping me in the fucking dark!”

Everyone looked taken aback by your heated glare, “Talks of Eunoia raising an army and sending me as a spy while consorting with Kimhae!?” You spat out glaring at all of your in laws.

And the oddest thing happened, it could’ve been a trick of your eyes, but you could’ve sworn you had seen Jungkook visibly flinch at the words.

His eyes were like steel as you glared at him.

“And you knew it! Didn’t you?” You pointed an accusing finger at him as he looked away from you.

Di Jin let out a loud laugh bringing your attention to him, “Well let’s be honest here dear, everyone in this room has suspicions of you being a spy.”

“Stay out of this.” You snapped, “My affairs with my husband are no concern of yours.”

“Oh but it seems they are.” Di Jin had a sneering smile on his face as he held up the paper he held in his hand.

“Di Jin.” Jungkook’s voice was low in warning.

You snatched the paper from his hand before Jungkook could even stop you walking away from him and closer to the fire, the only noise being the snaps and crackles as everyone looked at you tensed.

The more you read the tighter your grip became as Di Jin spoke, “Interesting, how even your husband assumed you were a spy? Was it not?” He hummed innocently, “I’ll be watching you very closely from now on girl, lest a case of treason be opened against you.”

Your eyes only glared down at the paper, Jungkook’s royal emblem no mistake and the date an even harsher blow to your heart as tears of wrath began to blur in your vision, “Leave. Now.”

Di Jin frowned at this, perhaps hoping for a more expressive reaction from you, as if he was trying to get you to dig yourself a hole, but you would not submit yourself to that, you would not allow him to weave his little web of instigation any further.

“You heard her Wolf.” Areum frowned deeply, walking to stand in front of him as her eyes burned like coals, “Your duties are done for the evening..”

“You're welcome.” Di Jin sneered one last smile before exiting.

The door shut quietly behind him as your lips quivered and your nails nearly torn through the paper, trying to calm your breaths down but truthfully, you were rendered speechless. Everything you had become accustomed to, the delicate, tender blossom that was slowly growing between you and Jungkook felt as if it had been abruptly yanked from the ground and stamped under a boot.

Jungkook had grown anxious at your expression, you were abhorrently livid, if your body language was anything to go by, “Y/n,” He finally sighed out, “What did you expect me to do? It’s no secret that the court has doubted you from the very moment-”

“This isn’t about the fucking court!” You hissed out, every ounce of self restraint thrown out the window as you marched over to him, “This isn’t about Di Jin, this isn’t about anyone but you! What the fuck is this!?” You cried out shoving the parchment into his chest, pain wrought in your expression, eyes glaring with rage and betrayal, “After everything we’ve been through together!?”

You ran your hands though your hair trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart, tears vehemently stinging your eyes as you shook your head, “I’ve have bared my soul to you, again and again, I- I have tried my best to understand Penumbra, your culture, you. For months! And I…”

You closed your eyes, letting the defeated tears trickled down your face, “I genuinely believed that you…” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words that squeezed too tightly in your throat, a sob finally bubbling from your lips, “Why!?” You whimpered out, finally staring at him, “Why did you not tell me about Eunoia? Or the rumors, or…or any of it!”

It would be one thing if he had this investigated when you had first arrived in Penumbra, but he didn’t, this was recent, too recent. All of your fresh memories with him spiraling in your head, the intimacy you had nervously shared with him.

“Because, what if it was true?” Jungkook’s jaw clenched, “I don’t take any pleasure saying that Y/n! But I needed to be sure that you weren’t playing a game with me.”

Your lips trembled in disbelief as warm tears dripped down your face, “No I said those words to you!” You pointed an accusing finger at him, “I asked you those same words and you looked me in the eyes and lied to me!”

“I wasn’t lying to you!” Jungkook immediately hissed back, “I’m not in a forgiving position! I needed to know you were on my side for certain and those words I said were not a lie! I don’t expect you to understand, nor do I expect your forgiveness, but I did what I had to do!”

You stared at him for a long moment in disbelief, tears dripping down your chin as Jungkook sighed, cupping your cheeks as he brushed the tears away, “I’ve meant every word I’ve said to you, and the feelings I have, it’s all real.” He pressed his forehead against yours, “But you can’t expect me to have zero doubts in your credibility, you were going to marry the Prince of the kingdom that took great pleasure in slaughtering my people.”

“That isn’t fair Jungkook!” You tried to bite back your sob, your heart as if it was being torn to shreds, “Everything you’re saying isn’t fair! You know it isn’t!”

“Life isn’t fair and it isn’t kind Y/n,” Jungkook frowned at the new tears that dripped down your face, “I’m only sorry that I’m the one having to tell you this.”

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, shoving him away, “Paint it how you want, but it doesn’t change what you did, you choose to not trust me. You choose to have me investigated and you choose to look me in the eyes and tell me this was not a game to you.”

“Y/n-”

“No.” You snapped sharply, looking up at him as your voice trembled softly, “Me and you, we’re done. You’re right, you don’t deserve my forgiveness nor my understanding. The only thing we have left is the fact that we’re both bitches serving the same crown. You are nothing more than a liar Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.” Jungkook shook his head, his jaw clenching.

“I mean every fucking word.” You seethed.

You turned around, shoving the doors open to the room as you shoved the tears from your eyes, everyone had looked at you in baited breath but you only walked over to Yoongi, “Take me to my room. My room, please.”

Yoongi had parted his lips but said no more, doing as you asked as you shoved the tears from your eyes, trying to pick up the broken pieces of your heart that laid cracked and shattered from Jungkook’s heartless words.

He really was as wicked as they said he was.

#bts #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts au fic

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icallhimjoey · 1 year ago

Note

Could we do a prequel of “ground rules” like what really happened that night..

someone requested this nearly a whole year ago, i found it whilst trying to clean up my inbox and, okay so FINE, the girlies want smut ???? they can GET it, enjoy (fiy: this can totally be read on its own w/o needing to be aware of what ground rules is even about) (cw: 18+ smut) Wordcount: 4.9K

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Inside Out & Outside In

(read Ground Rules here)

Ghosted.

You’d seen this guy three times, had talked to each other for over a month.

Ghosted.

Three lovely dates. Were absolutely planning on taking it there tonight. Had shaved your whole body, were wearing matching underwear which never fucking happened, were lotioned and potioned and ready. Smelled fucking amazing.

Only to be fucking ghosted.

He said he’d meet you at a certain restaurant you’d really wanted to go to, and then… just didn’t show. Calls went unanswered until they got declined. Blocked? Maybe. But why? For what? Weren't you unbelievably hot, and nice, and kind, and smart, and cute, et cetera, et cetera?

After waiting for way longer than you should’ve, you texted a friend. Asked if they were still having people over that night and if it was okay if you stopped by too – you’d turned down the invite earlier, because you had a hot date, obviously.

“yes please come! everyone’s here” got followed by a more concerned, “everything ok?”

No, not really, but maybe after another drink you would be.

You walked into your friend’s flat and were welcomed by about fifteen people shouting loud heys and hellos, all upbeat and happy and cheery.

Joe took one look and saw you were definitely not feeling all upbeat or happy or cheery, and went to fetch you a drink whilst you explained to the friend you’d texted that he just… he didn’t show up.

“What the fuck? He just… he just bailed on you? Did you call? Or text?”

“I did, but–”

“Weren’t you seeing him for a little while already?” someone else chimed in, and you realized that your friend must’ve informed everyone else. Or, at least, some people. Not that this was a huge party – just, a get-together, a gathering. Just some people over in her flat, drinks and snacks and loud laughter with some background music going. Like a night at the pub, but cheaper, and open ‘til later.

“No they went on– you went on a couple dates, right? My God, and to then just…”

“Did you get stood up?”

“Yea, I–”

“Hey, come on,” Joe interrupted, holding up a drink for you but nodding his head towards the balcony. Get you out of this overwhelming bombarding of questions. You didn’t need telling twice.

Outside, you leant on the banister with Joe next to you and just took quiet sips of your drinks in silence for a second. Joe rolled a cigarette and didn’t really say anything. Didn’t ask anything. Not until you sniffed loudly and he saw you were trying your best to blink tears away, to suck the excess water that was starting to pool there back into your tear ducts somehow.

“Hey, he’s an idiot. Proper dickhead.”

You let a wet laugh escape you and nodded. “Yea, he is.”

“How long did you wait around for?”

You winced, annoyed and disappointed with yourself for how long you sat in that restaurant by yourself.

“Too long,” but then you immediately defended, “But you know, I didn’t want to assume the worst. What if something happened? What if there was a good reason for– maybe he was just running late, you know? People run late sometimes for valid reasons, don't they?”

Joe nodded, lighting his cigarette and filling his lungs with smoke before he blew it out to the side, away from you. Considerate.

“You’re too kind for this world, you know?”

You grimaced, and Joe went, “No, that’s a good thing! We need more people like that. Like you.”

“Yea. Well. Thanks, I guess...”

You didn’t mean it, thought it just made your life unnecessarily and unfairly difficult, but Joe wasn’t one to press it any further.

Another silence fell where you listened to the noises coming from inside. Someone knocked over a glass which caused commotion and you could hear the beat, the soft bass, of whatever song was playing.

You drank, and Joe smoked in between sips and you both looked down at the street. A car was trying to parallel park and failing miserably at it. The silence and lack of attention on you was just what you needed to open up.

“I was really starting to fancy him,”

“Yea? Already?”

“Wouldn’t have gone to see him again if I didn’t,”

“Makes sense,” Joe tapped some ashes over the banister, “That’s actually smart… also makes this extra shit.”

Yea, it did.

“I think… maybe I’m just, I think I’m just a bad judge of character, because I don’t–” you stopped because your throat did something funny. You had to cough to mask the sob that got stuck in there and tried to hide your wet eyes as you turned away from Joe.

But Joe saw.

Joe knew.

“Darlin’,” Joe tossed his cigarette and took hold of you by a shoulder. Made you turn back to make eye-contact.

Yea, you were definitely crying.

“Come here.”

You got pulled into a hug and decided that, yea, fuck it, you were totally allowed to cry actually. A shitty thing had happened and it was absolutely fine to be sad about that. It didn’t exactly help that whilst you waited at the restaurant, you’d downed two fat glasses of wine already and were now halfway through a beer, but... Joe was there and he was nice, and friendly, and was warm and hugged you tight, and didn’t ask invasive questions, and, wasn’t that somehow just exactly what you needed?

You stood like that for a while, just in Joe’s tender embrace in the cold air, blinking slow tears down your face every now and then.

A knock on the window made you want to turn, to pull away from Joe to see who that was and why they wanted your attention. But Joe wouldn’t let you. You felt how he shook his head at whoever was on the other side of the sliding door and didn’t let his grip waver.

Apparently there was some sort of nonverbal communication, because next you felt Joe jerk his head to the side. You imagined he nodded in the direction he wanted that person to disappear into. Imagined his frowning fuck off facial expression.

“Who is that?” you asked, voice a little constricted because you had a throat full of weird emotions.

“No one important.”

You huffed a laugh. The people inside were all of your friends – they were all important.

After another short silence, Joe let his arms slip down and pulled back. You weren’t off the hook yet, though. Joe kept his arms loosely around you and forced eye-contact.

“You okay?”

“Yea...” you lied as you sniffed.

“...you sure?”

You huffed a laugh and were honest when you said, “No.”

You saw Joe’s worried eyes scan your features, seemingly looking for something hidden in your eyes. Then his eyes cast down and looked at the drink you were holding still.

“Need something stronger?”

“Yes, please.”

Joe smiled at you, impossibly warm, and kind, and sweet. It was the sort of grin that was impossible not to copy.

“I’ll be just a sec,” Joe said, stepping towards the door. “Do not do anythi– keep both those feet on the ground, no irrational silly decisions.”

You gave him a deadpan stare followed by an eye-roll that made him laugh.

“All right. Just checking,” Joe disappeared inside and couldn’t fight his smile.

Neither could you.

Inside you saw people try to grab his attention, try to ask him if you were okay, what was going on with you. It was all well-meant attention, but exactly the opposite of what Joe wanted. He’d assigned himself the role of carer for the night. Would lend you either shoulder of his for you to cry on for however long you needed.

Joe wasn't going to lie; he fucking loved this.

Obviously it was awful that you were sad, but to be able to swing in and protect a fragile pretty girl all night? Sign him the fuck up.

It’s why he ended up ignoring everyone for the rest of the night. Told people to leave you alone, that you needed a minute, to not bother you a second. Hogged you all night. Kept you out on the balcony and fetched you drinks and snacks. And when you started getting cold, only more reason to hug you, to try and keep you warm.

And, listen, so what if you started playing up how sad you actually really were?

So what if you used a face on Joe that you knew would make him go, “No, stop it, don’t cry, enough now,” whilst using a palm to push your head into his chest?

So what if, after a quiet murmuring conversation whilst hugging, you shivered because just Joe’s arms around your back weren’t warming you up enough, and to fix it, Joe opened his coat and let you snuggle inside whilst he wrapped the wool mix fabric tightly around your back?

So what if you were a little more into the attention than you were letting on, and started mentally thanking the universe for that wanker standing you up tonight?

You deserved nice things too.

And Joe was a nice thing.

Joe made soft jokes about the people you were both looking at inside. Said some of them definitely deserved to be ghosted by someone, unlike you. Made you turn your attention towards the moon, because look how nice it looked tonight. Let you complain about your lack of love life and was self-deprecating about his love life in return, just to make you smile.

Joe let you try a hand at rolling a cigarette for him, which you’d never done before. It was obvious too. When you handed him a barely-there sad excuse for a cigarette, all pretend-proud because you knew exactly how shite it was, Joe carefully took it from you and inspected it with a funny face, eyes all narrow, eyebrows up high on his face. Made you giggle. But then he went and actually tried to light it, and you laughed, tried to take it from him and said, “No, don't actually smoke it!” but Joe was quick to hold it out of your reach as he blew out a little smoke and said, “It's perfect.”.

Joe warmed you up from the inside out and from the outside in. With more drinks, and whispered jokes, and empathetic eyes, and squeezing hugs, and with the body heat trapped between his button-down and his coat.

After one particular tight squeeze, you felt your whole body react. Unmistakably you felt it mostly inside of your underwear.

Fanny-flutter.

That sort of made sense. How could any of this not have an effect on you? And it wasn’t as if it didn’t have an effect on Joe, either.

You easily confessed, alcohol in your veins lessening the sensitivity to rejection, not at all bothered about what Joe's reaction would be. You had expected it would definitely make him feel awkward, would maybe scare him off, but instead, he’d gone, “Yea? Feel this,” and had guided your hand to his crotch. He was half-hard.

Inside, one of your friends saw and grabbed another by the forearm, eyes bulging with shock. Joe’s coat covered your hand from direct view, and the light from inside reflected in the windows, but that was definitely your hand pressing onto a penis. The windows were big and you were stood right in front. How was no one to notice this? It was just the one friend at first though, but her gasp followed by the arm grab made two people see.

Then two more.

Then five, seven– eight.

“Did he just...?”

“I fucking told you– I called it! Didn't I call this an hour ago?”

You faked needing to go to the toilet and left without telling your friends goodbye.

Two minutes later Joe excused himself, said he was tired and would see everyone next week, and had found you waiting for him just outside the building.

He took some hurried steps and stopped to stand right in front of you, peering down and smiling slightly. You’d been close all night, bodies either touching or close enough to touch, and even though it had just been mere minutes, Joe had started missing it already, so he stood close and looked down at you and smiled. Waited.

His coat was hanging open still from when you’d been inside of it, and with the wind picking up, you used it as an excuse to keep your hands and fingers busy because, what the fuck were you and Joe actually going to do?

Tension had risen enough on the balcony, and you’d essentially snuck out after revealing to each other that you’d turned each other on.

You and Joe didn’t do this.

Had never done this.

But all you knew is that you wanted to be close to him, and so your fingers slowly buttoned up his coat, starting from the bottom. Joe didn’t move and tried to control his breathing as he watched your eyes drag up his body one button at a time.

You let your hands linger after doing up the last one, fingers touching the fabric that covered his chest, and you swallowed as you stared. Imagined the skin that was hidden underneath all the layers there.

“Mine or yours?” Joe asked, voice impossibly soft.

Your breath hitched, and on the back-end of an exhale you managed to say, “You live closer.”

“All right,” Joe grinned widely and presented his open palm, “Let’s go then.”.

You grabbed onto it and turned to start the short walk, but Joe was cemented in place and pulled you right back, swinging you back and right into him. You’d have laughed at how clumsy that collision felt if it wasn’t for Joe’s lips clashing with yours on the impact.

You wished it didn’t take you by surprise as much as it did, because you knew Joe must’ve felt how you went rigid all over for a second and he was about to pull back in response. Like he’d made a mistake and only realized by your reaction.

The slightest hint of Joe not kissing you, however, was enough to kickstart your whole system and you moved to chase after him which resulted in the kiss never even breaking, and Joe released a small noise from his throat.

Not a mistake, then.

He kissed you harder when you reciprocated, and it was cold out, but Joe was warm, and you and Joe had never done this before – had never even looked at each other and considered this to be a possibility, and it was exciting. The buildup had felt so very natural and, listen, you were both adults, weren’t you? Could do what you wanted to do. Didn’t have to talk everything over because, well, doing this, doing what your bodies felt like doing, was just nicer.

Joe shook his hand from the one he was still holding onto and moved them up to hold your face. Cupped your jaw and held your head in place as he kissed you more. You had to hold onto his wrists for fear of losing balance, or maybe for fear of floating away entirely.

The sound of a balcony door opening high up above you somewhere sprung anxiety into Joe’s legs.

He broke the kiss, found your hand again and said, “Quick. Come on,” and pulled you right along the pavement, your shorter legs doing the most to try and keep up.

Quick legs nearly jogged themselves down a couple of streets, and knees impatiently clicked in and out of over-stretching as you had to wait for some cars to pass when you had to cross a road. Joe took the moment to bring your colder hand up to his face, cupping it with both of his and blowing some hot air onto your fingers before he planted kisses there.

You let an almost pained noise escape you, said, “Can’t be so sweet to me. Makes me want to be sweet back.” which was music to Joe’s ears.

About a minute removed from Joe’s flat, you felt a drop on your forehead. Then another. You held out a hand, and felt how quickly the rain picked up.

“Shit, come on,” Joe said, squinting up at the sky and tightening his grip on your hand before he started running.

It only took a second for the couple of drops to turn into a sudden torrential downpour. The water was cold, and it hurt your forehead, but you were laughing as you ran. This all felt ridiculous.

Joe had to let go of your hand to get into his building, and you saw his wet hands fumble with his keys a little. Joe noticed his own shaky fingers and knew you were watching too, so he overdid it. Shook so hard, he dropped the keys and made you laugh.

“Oh my God, hurry up,” you pretended to want to take over, but you got playfully shoved to the side and just got more wet in the process.

Both ways.

When he eventually pushed the door open, he held it and did a silly little bow whilst gesturing for you to walk inside first.

Ever the gentleman. Meant he'd be outside in the rain longer.

He took hold of you by the waist with both hands and dug his fingers in firmly over your coat. You were a tipsy mess of soft giggles as you covered his hands with yours, easily letting yourself be lead towards the lift.

Each time there was a second of you not being as close, it was his hands to moved you back in.

Outside the lift you kissed some more.

Inside the lift you kissed some more.

Outside Joe’s door you kissed some more, hands roaming over clothes.

Inside Joe’s flat you kissed some more, hands roaming under clothes.

Wet coats and shoes got discarded in a messy heap by the door.

You noticed that Joe’s ears had significantly darkened in colour, from more than the cold rain could’ve done to them. They were so fucking red, you could practically feel the phantom burn in your own.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been in here, in his flat. Maybe a couple months ago when you and some friends picked him up on your way somewhere, dipped inside real quick because one needed the toilet and another had never seen the place before.

You hadn’t been there often at all, but you knew the way to his bedroom. Made your way there blindly, because all you could see was the inside of your eyelids as Joe kept his face firmly attached to yours.

In there, you bumped your hip into a dresser and nearly tripped over something left on the floor. Joe made noises as if he could feel your pain and pulled you snug against him by the hips. Made you be able to feel his entirety through his trousers, and something in the back of your brain sparked.

Instead of focusing on your own clothes, your mind was with getting Joe out of his first. You wanted to feel him. You’d get to you later.

Wrong.

Joe got to you immediately.

He pulled on the hem of your top and worked it over your head, leaving your to blow a mess of hair from your face which didn't work because it was all wet strands that stuck to wet skin. You heard Joe suppress a giggle, used a kiss to not let it slip out, because fucking God, you were so fucking cute.

Your fingers found Joe’s trousers to undo, but Joe was quick to take over. Knew it’d be faster if he did it himself.

“You’re going to have to talk to me,” Joe panted, shoulders pulled up high and chin tucked in as he undid the button to his trousers, carefully handling the zipper. You frowned as you peeled your wet jeans from your legs, nearly losing your balance as you did.

Was okay though. Joe caught you with a strong arm before you did.

“Tell me what you like,”

Considerate. But you weren’t one to say all that much during getting to know someone like this. Joe could get some panting yesses and some encouraging moans from you to guide him along, but that’d sort of be it.

“Tell me what you don’t,” Joe added, because your lack of answer translated into hesitation from you.

The rain was really coming down harder now, violent and unrelenting, tapping hard against the windows of his bedroom. It was nice for background noise, didn’t leave the silence awkward. Muffled everything a little and you were glad you couldn't hear your own heartbeat in your ears because that meant Joe wouldn't be able to hear it rattle in your chest either.

With his arm still around your waist from making sure you didn’t topple over, Joe crowded in more, and where touches and kisses had been hurried and messy since stepping over the threshold, Joe took a second to just... be close.

Let his nose circle yours without letting your lips meet.

It turned you on so much, it kind of drove you mad.

He took a small step forwards that forced you to take one backwards.

You curled both arms behind your back to unclasp your bra, and Joe was quick to remove it from between the two of you, letting it drop to the floor. You heard his careful breathing, felt it on your face as his grip around you tightened as he slowly pushed forward more.

You took small backward steps until the back of your legs touched the bed and you made sure to wrap both arms around Joe’s neck to ensure you’d take him with you.

Joe braced an arm against the bed, slowing you both down, ensuring the wind didn't get knocked out of you.

The second your bare back touched his sheets, Joe's mouth found yours again in the dark and hands roamed where they hadn't roamed before.

“Is this okay?” Joe muttered after a while, one finger hooking the side of your underwear, like this wasn’t the sole reason for you even being there in the first place, and you nodded.

Of course this was okay.

But suddenly, almost just to fuck with him, you frowned and went, “Actually…” all serious, like you were about to leave a yelp review, and Joe pulled back immediately.

You felt how he held his breath, waiting for you to say something. Hesitant. Nervous.

“You’ve not said anythi– look, these match the bra,”

Joe’s eyes scanned down, looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see your bra at all, and then turned to look back at you, confused.

“It’s a set.”

Joe didn’t get it. Why would he fucking care if your bra matched your briefs?

Joe dipped down and kissed your neck to avoid having to answer.

Joe had also said you’d have to tell him what you liked, and... all right, fine, you could try.

“Tell me you like it, I want you to– say you like ‘em,”

“I love them,” Joe immediately obliged, speaking hot breath into your ear.

Good.

You hadn’t put the effort in for Joe specifically, because how could you have ever predicted this is where you’d end up, but you had put in effort and wanted, no needed, the validation.

“I love them so much,” Joe said, hands now working to pull them down your legs whilst you started trying to undo Joe of his underwear.

It was dark, and the air around you felt cold where the rain had left you wet, but Joe was on top of you, and you were both entirely naked now, and arousal worked hard to heat you up from the inside out. You felt yourself start to unfurl at the edges.

Joe’s hands were everywhere.

Joe’s mouth was everywhere.

“Inside,” you panted, surprised you were actually instructing.

“Yea? Where?” Joe asked, voice all breathy, his fingers stroking silky soft skin, leaving trails of tingles and slick.

You didn’t even really care where if you were honest. Just wanted to feel him inside. You’d felt it press up against you for long enough now.

“Inside,” you said again, unable and unwanting to explain yourself any further, but using your hands to help and guide, showing him rather than telling him.

And fine. Joe could be shown. Instructing didn’t always need words. Could be nonverbal all the same, Joe decided, gladly letting you help him push himself inside.

And, fuck.

Fuck.

That felt so fucking good.

Joe went slow.

Was all tender touch and paid attention. Tried to hold his breath until he couldn’t anymore. Tried to keep his groans inside until he couldn’t anymore.

Joe went slow until he couldn’t anymore, hips finding a pace all by themselves, spurred on by your moans and your finger nails that dug wherever they could dig.

Joe’s weight on top felt nice.

Joe’s hands moving your legs about rather than trying to manoeuvre you into entirely new positions was nice.

Joe’s head buried into the space between your neck and shoulder was nice.

All his sounds unmistakably close to your ear was nice.

It was all nice, and then it became good.

“Yes,” you panted, moaned loudly, and heard Joe pant and huff a proud laugh.

“Yea?”

“Mm hmm,”

You felt it creep up. Slowly, but definitely there. Joe needed to keep doing exactly what he was doing. No messing.

“Yes, don’t stop, don’t–” moans got louder, and, it fed something inside Joe. His ego, his pride, his dignity, his confidence.

It had the wrong effect.

Joe knew he was doing something good, because, look at you. But it made him want to do more. Encouraged by the noise you were making, Joe upped all of everything he was doing, and–

“No, you’re–” you laid a flat hand over his shoulder in an attempt to slow him back down.

You felt how Joe went rigid, almost halted entirely.

“Go back– you need to, do it– I said, don’t stop, you–”

You weren’t very good at using your words, but could anyone really blame you? Look at where you were. What you were doing. How you were feeling.

Joe got the message, though. Went back to what he was doing before when you had started moaning yesses and, yea, it took a little time to get back to that same place you were before. But Joe was unrelenting, just like the rain outside that got smacked against the windows by strong gusts of wind, and your orgasm hit you just like it as well.

For a second or two, you weren’t really there.

You felt Joe’s weight, felt his movement, felt his touch, but you were gone.

Heard just the rustle of wind and the clattering of raindrops, a loud static in your mind, and felt utter, utter bliss.

You floated long, tried to stretch it for as long as you could, until you suddenly were there again, in Joe's bedroom, on top of his sheets, and you heard him groan loudly. Felt his hips stutter against your own. Felt him spill deep inside.

It took Joe long to pull out.

He kind of kept going for a little bit after he came too, seemed almost hypnotised and went for as long as he could, until he couldn't anymore. Until he winced, and stopped, and carefully pulled himself out.

You awaited reality to crash into you like a shockwave, but the shock took its sweet time and you thought maybe it was saving itself for the morning, because this was always your favourite part. Straight after, where guys let their heads drop against your shoulder, against your chest, all their weight heavy on top as they caught their breath.

And Joe was just like every other guy ever, because he did the same. Rested on top of you until his breathing evened out.

But Joe was also different, because before he rolled off of you, his hands found your face to touch, to cup, to hold as he pressed kisses into sweaty skin, and then asked you if you needed anything. If he could get you something.

“The bathroom,” you said, letting a breathy laugh escape you that Joe copied.

You pushed all thoughts of doubt aside, told your mind that it could panic over the lack of protection used later. Shock was allowed to find you in the morning, you’d decided now.

“Don’t be long,” Joe mused, rolling off and moving covers to crawl underneath, revealing he expected you back. Back into bed with him. To cuddle, to snuggle, to tangle limbs and to fall asleep together.

What the fuck was your life?

You and Joe didn’t do this.

Had never done this.

But it was nice, and comfortable, and exactly what you fucking needed, so you gave in. Peed, cleaned yourself up, splashed water wherever you felt it needed splashing, and snuck right back into bed where it was warm. Where two strong arms pulled you close.

You were both naked still.

And Joe had his remnants inside you still.

But reality could find you later.

Joe warmed you up from the inside out and from the outside in.

Reality could find you in the morning.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #ground rules #inside out and outside in

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puck-luck · 6 months ago

Text

new beginnings | may 27 - june 2

note: before i start this, i just want to warn y'all that it's 24.4k. if you want to read this in one sitting, i recommend locking in.

please hit me up in my inbox to give me feedback! or your thoughts! or speculation on what's coming next! i want you guys to talk to me all the time and tell me every thought you have. if i could send each of you the google document and force you to leave comments, i would.

also, i think by the time this fic is finished, it might be long enough to be a novel. should we all work together to get it published?

1:90 – TREVOR

“Do we really think it’s a good idea to spend the summer down here instead of the Michigan house?” Jack asks. “We own that one, after all.”

“Everyone knows about the Michigan house,” Trevor points out.

Cole, who had plotted this with Trevor after last summer’s debacle, sighs. “We can’t keep having the same conversation. We decided that we would train at the Checkers’ rink when we can get down to Charlotte and use the cement slab as our own rink in the yard of the rental house in the meantime. So that’s not your problem. So, what is, Jack? You’re gonna miss the girls?”

Jack fixes Cole with a cutting glare. “Fuck off.”

“You know, there are girls in North Carolina,” Cole says, a grin dimpling his cheeks. “Sweet, southern belles, even.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I can’t wait for the rest of the goons to get here. We’ll put it to a fucking vote and I’ll get to go home.”

“If you want to go home so bad, why don’t you?” Trevor asks. “We’re not forcing you to be here.”

“You triple-belted me in the backseat,” Jack argues. “You’re taking me away from Michigan and you can’t even let me have shotgun.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” Trevor mocks. “You have hands. And fingers. You’re not helpless.”

Jack huffs from his spot in the back, stubbornly turning his head to the right to watch the trees pass. Cole does the same from the passenger seat, tapping his fingers along the pane of the window.

There are twenty miles, an hour total, still on the GPS. Trevor hasn’t seen a town since they stopped at the gas station at the bottom of the mountain, the closest city being Winston-Salem almost an hour and a half ago, barely more than sparse houses and fields in the time since. They’re driving along a stream now and the latest exit off this small, two lane highway said “Love Valley.” Trevor snickers at the sign and goes to point it out to Jack, but Jack beats him to it.

“Don’t, Z.”

“It’s funny, dude.”

“It’s not, though.”

Cole cranks the volume up, drowning out the continuing argument that floats forward from the backseat.

They drive on and Trevor thinks about it– everything. They have three unobscured months in Litchton, the only people knowing about their whereabouts are their families and coaches. The goons, as Jack referred to them, would be joining them sometime in the next day or two. Quinn and Luke had to wrap up some loose ends at home (Quinn, closing up his apartment for the summer; Luke, visiting some college friends as their semester comes to an end.

Litchton was the safest bet and Krebs had mentioned North Carolina to Trevor in passing the one time they caught up throughout the year, heaving heard from Leschyshyn that the mountain towns of his home state were notoriously quiet and drama-free and that their inhabitants, although lovers of gossip, kept to themselves.

After those girls had snuck into the Michigan house at the end of the summer and started showing up wherever the boys went in the evenings, Trevor just wanted a summer off. He wanted time with his friends the way they used to have it, just working out together and drinking until they dropped, swimming and parading around the town like normal guys in their early twenties.

In Litchton, they could pretend to be guys that were home for the summer, ready to start some corporate finance or everyday-tie job. It was a look into what could’ve been, had they not dedicated their lives to their sport.

For three months, he gets to be Trevor Zegras, the kid who complained about his name being last on the roster in every class growing up and the kid who worked in his mom’s store after school. But he’s also Trevor Zegras, NHL superstar, ninth overall pick, owner of the best Michigan goal in the United States, so he might toss his name around in Litchton this summer. Just to see if it gets him anything.

If it doesn’t, his good looks certainly will. What’s flirting with a few old ladies on the street? It’ll be the highlight of their year.

Trevor misses the driveway the first time the car passes it. It’s hidden by brush and along a curve. The GPS reroutes them– but they have to drive an extra fifteen minutes along this road before they can turn around.

They drive into a small town, a strip of eclectic stores littering the main road. There’s a small grocery store with a fruit stand out front that Cole points to.

“We could pick up some food while we’re out here,” Cole suggests. Upon hearing Jack’s mouth open in the backseat, he continues, “Just so we don’t have to come back later.”

Jack slouches against the backseat, huffing about being cut off at the opportunity to express his discomfort.

“Jacky, will you relax? We’re going to have fun this summer.” Trevor tells him, turning into the parking lot and choosing a spot close to the entrance.

Cole laughs when Jack unbuckles his three seatbelts in the wrong order and has to untangle them. Trevor flips the mirror down and fudges his hair, fluffing the ends. He had gotten it cut just before they left for this trip, so the edges were still even and sharp.

Jack is the first to exit the car, practically throwing himself onto the pavement with his excitement to leave the vehicle behind, if only briefly. They’d been driving for hours. Cole flew into New York from Montréal, so Trevor had to pick him up from the airport. They picked Jack up in Jersey in the early morning and started driving south.

Trevor can’t blame Jack for his annoyance. They’ve been in the car with him for ten long hours and they forced the first stretch of driving on him, having spent about two hours in the car before getting him. He had just woken up and had to drive four hours through the traffic of Philly and into Baltimore. He napped while Cole drove down through most of Virginia, and then woke up grumpy anyway when Trevor took over to take on North Carolina.

It’s been a long fucking day.

They shop together, but they bicker quietly. After years of friendship, their arguments seem more like brotherly spats. The knowing smiles from the women in the grocery store prove that they’ve heard encounters like this before, likely in their own homes.

Eventually, Trevor rolls his eyes and goes to sit in the car. He leaves Cole and Jack to pay for the groceries. Upon leaving the store, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up Instagram, hoping to catch up on the posts that he had missed on the long drive.

Walking past the fruit stand out front, Trevor bumps into someone and he stumbles back.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes, reaching out and steadying the girl with a touch to her elbow. “I didn’t see you.”

“Hard to see me when you’re on your phone,” she replies with a tilted smile.

Trevor lets out a little laugh at her reply, barely a breath. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

She nods with an approving hum and turns back to the stand, picking up a peach and turning it over in her hand.

Trevor turns and walks to the car, climbing into the vehicle and settling behind the wheel. He watches the sliding door for his friends, but his eyes drift back to the girl.

She’s tied a red bandana in her hair and she slips peaches into her mesh bag. She talks to the vendor, using her hands to speak. She’s pretty, he realizes, far prettier than the girls he knows from California. The vendor hands her a basket of strawberries, which she takes carefully, inspecting the red berries by twisting the basket’s handle from side to side, spinning it. Trevor can see her profile this way– the slope of her nose, smooth. Her eyelashes, long. Her lips, pink and pursed into a little smile. Her stance is tilted, one hand on her hips.

Trevor is back outside the car before he can think. He approaches her as she pays for her fruit, standing behind her when she turns around.

She jumps when she sees him. “You’re still here?” She asks.

“No, but I’m back,” Trevor replies, realizing just how lame he sounds. “My friends and I are staying here for the summer and I just wanted to introduce myself.”

When he falls silent after explaining himself, she looks at him expectantly. He can see the bottoms of her teeth as her lips part. “So introduce yourself.” She gestures for him to go on.

“I’m Trevor,” he says, sticking his hand out. “My friends call me Z.”

Her eyes drop to his hand briefly. She considers it before reaching up and taking his hand, shaking it. “Why?” She asks.

“My last name starts with a Z,” Trevor supplies. “Zegras.” The smile he gives her is strained, expecting her eyes to light up in recognition. They do, but it’s not in the way he expects.

“You’re Greek?” She asks, her interest piqued.

“Yeah,” Trevor replies. “But not, like… Greek. I’m from New York, but I live in California now.”

At the mention of California, her face stiffens. She hums disapprovingly. “Got sick of the West Coast, I take it? Is that why you’re back east this summer?”

Trevor flounders for a moment. “I love California, but the guys and I always spend our summers together. Usually we’re in Michigan.”

“So y’all travel all around, huh?” She asks. She doesn’t sound impressed, which makes Trevor nervous. In fact, she sounds almost disdainful, but the look on her face appears as though she’s holding back a laugh. Whether that is at his expense, he doesn’t know.

“We’re very lucky,” Trevor confirms, nodding tightly. “Most of our travel is for work, though. We all work in the same industry and it involves a lot of, um, business trips.”

“Business trips?” She asks, letting the laugh overtake her this time as she looks him up and down. “You?”

Trevor looks down at his own outfit, the basketball shorts and loose t-shirt. They’re two of the few clothes he owns that are not branded with the Ducks logo. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve been driving a while and I wanted to be comfortable.”

“You certainly look comfortable,” She agrees with a nod, her grin knowing and wide.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Trevor says with a similar grin, shuffling forward just a step now that he’s got her smiling and laughing.

It’s then that Cole and Jack exit the grocery store, each with a hefty load of grocery bags on their arms. They’re laughing, so it appears Cole has managed to cheer up the sullen Jack in Trevor’s absence. Trevor watches the girl’s eyes leave his, drawn to the movement and volume of his two friends. He curses them in his mind, watching as they find him and decide to approach.

“I thought you were warming up the car, Z,” Jack accuses, his eyes flickering between Trevor and the girl. “D’you get distracted?”

Trevor bites his tongue before forcing a smile on his face. He turns back to the girl. “These are the some of the friends I mentioned, Jack and Cole. The other ones, Jack’s brothers, aren’t here yet.” Trevor knows he’s overexplaining, but he can’t help it. Something about this girl has him awkward and tongue-tied, yet his tongue can’t stop forming words and pushing them out.

“Yeah, your business partners.” She rubs a hand over her face, smoothing out the half-smile that was clearly keeping a laugh at bay. “Are they also from California?”

Cole snorts. “Business partners?” He repeats. “From California? No way. You’d never catch me dead in Anaheim, unless we’re playing there. Believe me, I’d be on the quickest flight back.”

“I just said we all worked in the same industry,” Trevor corrects, throwing on his most charming smile to try and salvage the situation. He wasn’t lying, but this girl might think he is, and that would be disastrous. He doesn’t know why, but it would be. He wants her to think highly of him and now he’s made two bad first impressions.

The second one is his friends’ fault, of course.

And she does think he’s lying– Trevor can tell by the way she looks him up and down, then Cole, then Jack. Her eyes squint imperceptibly at Cole’s mention of “playing” in Anaheim, rather than working. It was a statement that could have extended the conversation, but this girl seems to decide that she is uninterested.

She nods sarcastically, then scoffs quietly. “I have to go,” she says. “It was nice to meet you, Trevor. Have fun in Litchton this summer, boys.”

“Oh, we will,” Jack assures her. Trevor hates how his eyes rake over her, combing through each detail of her skin, her clothes, and her hair.

“Nice meeting you!” Cole calls after her as she walks away.

Both boys turn to Trevor, equally annoying smiles on their faces.

“Shut up,” he hisses before they can say anything.

“Who was that?” Cole asks.

“I didn’t get her name,” Trevor growls through gritted teeth. “She was just about to tell me and then the two of you showed up.”

“Boo-hoo,” Jack teases. “So you won’t be the first to bed a girl this summer, for… how many summers in a row is it now, Coley?”

Cole’s laughter breaks his face, but Trevor interrupts before he can speak.

“It’s not even a real competition, Jack. You only act like it is because you fuck the same girl every summer as soon as we get to the lake house. It’s trashy.”

“Being a winner isn’t trashy, Trev. In fact, maybe I should go follow after the girl you were just chatting up. I’ll show her how a real man flirts.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Trevor feels a flare of anger well up inside of him when Jack insinuates taking this girl for himself. It should be anger about questioning Trevor’s manhood, but it is not. “Get in the car.”

He stalks off, starting the car this time and situating himself behind the wheel. Jack vies for the passenger seat unsuccessfully, souring his mood yet again. Despite Cole’s smaller stature, Jack is the one left in the backseat with the bags of groceries around him. Soon, Trevor’s shirt joins him after a misguided throw to the trunk of the car where their luggage resides.

When they arrive at the house, Jack only carries the groceries inside. He claims he’s been stilted all day and Trevor can’t really do much to prove otherwise. Cole carries in his and Jack’s luggage into the home– a rental that Trevor paid good money to book for the entire summer.

“I get the best room!” Trevor yells after them. “I paid for it! I want the ensuite bathroom!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jack replies. He’ll leave the room for Trevor to take anyway.

The three boys had planned this ahead of time. They would be in Litchton the whole summer, so they will take the three bedrooms that have king beds. Quinn and Luke will take the queen beds in the other bedroom, and the various guests throughout the summer will take the bunk beds in the basement. From the pictures alone, Trevor realizes that the house could sleep more than ten people. If they can find ten people, maybe they could throw a party.

and invite that girl, Trevor thinks.

He’s taken aback by the thought and its suddenness. He doesn’t even know her name or if he’ll see her again– so why is he thinking of her?

Trevor shakes the thought and grabs his bags from the back of the car. He used an extra practice bag from the bottom of his closet in Anaheim to pack his clothes for the summer, so he has a free hand to open the door that Cole closed behind him.

He finds the big bedroom easily and drops his bag in the closet, not bothering to unpack. He looks out the sliding door onto his porch, the wrap-around that encircles the entire back of the house. His porch holds two rocking chairs and a wooden bench. The house is built out of wood– almost overwhelmingly so– and the decorations match. His bedframe, his dresser, his bedside table, his small desk, the fan, even the blinds on the window… all of them are made of wood.

His bathroom has double sinks and a granite countertop. The handles are gold in color, but likely not in material. The spout of the sink is more like a water spigot that one might find outdoors, but it’s classy. When Trevor enters his bathroom, he’s in awe of the jacuzzi tub and shower on the other side of the room.

The tub and shower are both built from dark marble, bespeckled with lines of darker ore. The tub has wooden cabinets beneath the feet of marble on either side of the tub, which holds towels and toiletries on the right and left respectively. The tub has jets and a handheld spout that’s detachable. Trevor considers them. He can think of a use for both.

The shower is spacious with an overhead spout, wide and fancy. It has ledges for toiletries, as well as a seat in the corner. The door is glass and there is a hook for towels next to the opening. The shower stands from ceiling to floor, completely confined. Despite the windows to the side of it, the occupant of the shower would be completely hidden from sight, once the glass door steams up.

Trevor explores the house further, but doesn’t take up residence anywhere. Cole and Jack seem to have put the groceries away while he found his room and looked around. Now, they’re nowhere to be found. They’ve likely taken up residence in their bedrooms for the night, tired from their eleven hour drive.

Lord knows Jack needs sleep before he braves this vacation. He always gets grumpy when he’s tired, part of the reason why he naps prior to every game.

Trevor is glad that all of the boys can make it up for the summer. He can’t wait to get things started.

2:90 – HONEY

She wakes with the sunrise, as she does every Tuesday. It’s her first day of the week at the bookstore and she has to open. The Reading Nook is always closed on Mondays and she is one of three workers– the owner, Ada and her best friend since childhood, Bea. Ada opens the store on Thursday, whereas Bea opens it on Friday. Every other day of the week, the responsibility falls on her.

She makes her coffee and drinks it on her couch, looking out the window towards the mountains in the distance. It’s clear today and she can see the rows of mountains clearly– ten rows back. Once, her father had told her that if you could count ten rows back, you were looking at the mountains across state lines. If you could count ten mountains, then you could count all the way to Tennessee.

She believed him, until she realized that the sun always rises behind those mountains. She faces east. Tennessee is to the west.

Still, the memory comes with fondness. It was before she moved away from home to pursue a life of quietness in the mountains, her favorite place in the world. Those days are long in the past. She has no interest in returning to them, given how far she’s come. The only person from her hometown that was welcomed into this new life was Bea and she has proven time and time again that she is deserving of that role.

Not only did they grow up together, but she got her nickname because of her friendship with Bea. As children, a long-forgotten teacher had made a comment about the two being attached at the hip, stuck together like glue. She had corrected herself with a laugh, evidently feeling clever when she said: “No, more like a bee to honey, right, girls?” From that day on, she had only gone by Honey and Bea had shortened her name from Beatrice to keep the analogy.

She drives to The Reading Nook and unlocks the store, wiping the counter and sweeping the main room while she waits for her regular patrons to enter the store.

On Tuesdays, the “founding” women of Litchton convene in the bookstore and knit. Some days, Honey joins them. Others, she just wishes to sit and read at their table, listening in on the gossip of the week. The women are not so much founders as the grandmothers who lived in Litchton since their birth, having married and worked and raised families here. They are true Appalachian women– driven by superstition and fantastical solutions, lovers of a good story, and wonderful bakers who only crave to share their gift. They are churchgoers, often multiple times a week, and headstrong believers in their chosen politician. These are the attributes that Honey does not share with the women– she was an outsider, although she has been welcomed into the Litchton society since moving here. She attended church when the ladies asked her to, usually for the rare wedding or baptism. Rarer for a funeral, luckily. Honey does not feel any particular way about politics, at least not out loud, and she’s lucky that the ladies try to reserve that topic for the debates of their husbands over dinner parties, not the knitting circle on early Tuesday mornings.

Sacha is the first to arrive to the bookstore that morning, armed with blueberry muffins in a tupperware that Honey will have to wash in the little sink in the back while the women are knitting. Sacha has left one too many tupperwares and bowls in The Reading Nook and Honey won’t allow her to leave another behind.

Honey plates the muffins for Sacha while the elderly woman secures the long table in the store for her friends. It does not take long for Scarlett, Gillian, Vera, and Rosalind to join. The women each knit their own project, waking up over coffee and muffins before the gossip starts.

It begins with Vera’s son’s divorce, something she had been dreading since he proposed to his soon-to-be ex-wife while they were still students at NC State. They had moved to Raleigh permanently, an action that Vera believes started this whole thing. When her son left home, and his wife finally revealed that she didn’t want children, Vera knew it was over. Or so she said. Honey thinks that she’s just butthurt about her son fleeing the nest… ten years ago. She wonders, briefly, if her own mother feels this way about her.

Honey shakes herself out of her thoughts as soon as Scarlett introduces the next topic, the topic that Honey knew was coming since the night before.

“Did you see those young men at the store yesterday? I know you always do your shopping on Monday evenings, Rosalind.” Scarlett tilts her head like she’s conspiring with Rosalind, like Rosalind has been holding information from the group.

Rosalind nods, eyes glinting behind her wired glasses. “They were such handsome boys. Lord, I tell you, if I were a young lady nowadays…”

She trails off and Honey stifles a laugh, looking down at the counter. She can feel the ladies’ eyes on her, no doubt hoping that the mention of boys piques her interest. Honey knows how these ladies were in their day– boy crazy but also efficient, looking for the perfect match and settling for no less. All of them prevailed, although from their complaints, you would never know their husbands were the loves of their lives.

“Ladies, you know this conversation would be better suited for Bea,” Honey teases.

“Bea is too forthcoming, you are still somewhat of a mystery.” Gillian lifts an eyebrow.

“Where is Miss Bea?” Vera asks. “Wasn’t she supposed to be here half an hour ago?”

Honey doesn’t stifle her laugh this time. “Miss Vera!” She exclaims. “It is a Tuesday morning. You know Bea has no interest in showing up to work for at least another hour.”

Vera shakes her head. “You and Ada have got to stop allowing her to show up so late.”

Sacha laughs. “As if they could stop her if they tried!”

All of the women, and Honey, laugh at the joke. It’s well established in Litchton that Bea is the tardy sort, whereas everyone else prefers to be early or on time. Bea has the attitude of a city girl, to quote the old ladies, but the work ethic and priorities of a Litchton woman. She likes her men, she likes her job, but she loves a nice lay-in.

“Besides,” Honey tells the women, hesitating with a coy smile before dropping the bomb of information: “I’ve already met those men.”

The effect is instantaneous. All of them drop their knitting onto their laps and gasp. Gillian clutches at her chest, always the most dramatic of the quintet.

“My darling,” Rosalind marvels.

“Well?” Scarlett questions. “How? When? Tell us everything.”

Honey moves from behind the counter to an empty seat at their table. She sits next to Sacha, the woman taking her hand and holding it tightly.

“You ladies seem to forget that I go to the fruit stand outside the store on Monday evenings,” Honey begins. “Which is where I ran into them. Literally, too– one of them had his nose buried in his phone and bumped into me. He could’ve knocked me over!”

“You should have fallen so that he could have helped you up,” Rosalind suggests. The women murmur in agreement.

Honey rolls her eyes. “I did not. He apologized, I told him that he only bumped into me because he was caught up in his phone, and he said he would be more careful next time.”

“Next time,” Gillian repeats, nodding. “So he wishes to see you again?”

“Turns out, ‘next time’ was about five minutes later, when I went to leave the stand and he was right behind me!” Honey reveals, purposefully lacing incredulity into her voice. She places a finger on her lips and widens her eyes, playing into the dramatics of the ladies as if to say “What do you think of that?”

The women gasp in time.

“Which one was it?” Scarlett asks.

“I only saw the other two for a moment, so I don’t think I could describe them well enough to you,” Honey says. “The one I spoke to is named Trevor.” She pauses to roll her eyes before adding sarcastically, “But his friends call him Z.”

Scarlett and Rosalind nod and look to each other.

“It must have been the one who left earlier than the other two,” Scarlett says. “With those awful tattoos.”

Honey bites back a giggle. Once a southern mother, always a southern mother. “He did have tattoos,” she confirms.

“You two would get along,” Vera suggests, not so subtly casting a glance at the leafy vines that crawl up Honey’s arm.

Honey goes quiet, glaring at Vera. She has worked to try and get the ladies to stop commenting on her body and habits over the past few years, but the ladies are stubborn and traditional in most senses.

“How long will they be here? Or were they just stopping through?” Gillian asks.

“They’ll be here all summer, so I’m sure we’ll get our fill of them.” With that, Honey effectively ends her role in the conversation. She returns to the counter and opens her book, pretending to read it.

She knew the ladies would have caught wind of the men’s arrival by now and would want to discuss it. She knew that the ladies would be interested in setting her up with one of these new arrivals. They were cute, she’d give them that. At a glance, any of the three could have been nice company at a brewery, but Honey wasn’t looking. She was perfectly content with finding herself and making her own life, even if it meant that she wasn’t finding a husband like most women in Litchton wanted her to do.

The other thing was this: Trevor hadn’t made the best first impression. He bumped into her, then startled her, then told her some story about business partners or colleagues that definitely was not true, and he was from California. He’s a yuppie, a hipster who probably enjoys the bustle of Los Angeles and can’t handle the slow, satisfying life of a small town. To her estimate, Trevor has got a week before he leaves Litchton for something more glamorous and fast-paced.

The ladies relay the news to Bea when she finally shows up for her shift, a travel mug of coffee in hand from which she sips throughout each tantalizing detail of Scarlett’s retelling. Upon Honey’s information, Bea’s eyes flicker knowingly toward the counter and Honey just shrugs. Bea’s eyes then narrow, accompanying a questioning tilt of her head. Honey shakes her head at that, and Bea lets it go.

“Well, I heard the reason that Mr. Mayes wasn’t at church last week wasn’t his hip acting up,” Bea says to the ladies when it’s her turn. That starts a whole new tangent for the knitting club, one that will keep them occupied and in their seats for a number of minutes. It gives Honey the time to slip into the back and cut up one of the peaches that she brought from home to snack on during work.

The ladies leave The Reading Nook about an hour after Bea’s arrival, leaving the store empty except for the two girls and floaters looking for their next novel.

Bea leans against the counter with a smug smile, blinking innocently at Honey.

“What do you really think about them?” She asks.

“I think they’re trouble,” Honey says. “They didn’t seem on the same page about their jobs, they don’t know anything about living in a small town, they travel a lot, and I think I saw one of them carrying a 48-pack of beer.”

“Are they cute?”

Honey fixes Bea with a stare that could put a stop to anyone else’s questions. Unfortunately, Bea is immune to Honey’s intimidation tactics and her sarcastic jabs. She sees right through them. Honey’s silence is another thing she sees through.

“Interesting.” She draws herself up to her full height.

“I think you would find them cute,” Honey says.

Bea hums. “You can’t backtrack now. You said enough without saying anything at all.” She crosses her arms over her chest then leans back down onto the counter. “So, tell me, Honeybear,” she muses. Fortunately, she changes the topic. “Did you get my strawberries from the stand, or were you too enthralled by the pretty boy in front of you?”

“He wasn’t pretty.”

“Sure he wasn’t.”

Honey scoffs, then leaves to the back to grab the basket of strawberries. She does so carefully, not touching the strawberries in case she breaks out in hives like she did last time. Bea swears that more exposure to the fruit would “cure” her allergy, but Honey only picks up the baskets to humor her. Honey doesn’t think she’s missing out on much, being allergic to strawberries. It’s her peaches that she would miss, and the blackberry pie that Ada makes when her vines turn ripe. That’s something to look forward to– blackberry season is starting and Ada could show up with a pie any day now.

The day continues slowly, with Ada making an appearance to close down the shop with the girls and help unpack a new shipment of books. After they’re done, Honey and Bea head to their respective homes.

Honey curls up with her book in her bed and listens to some music before the soft noise of the background and the comfort of her blanket draws her to her sleep.

3:90 – TREVOR

They have to go to the hardware store today.

Yesterday, the boys wasted the day, sleeping later than they have in weeks. They ate a late breakfast, which turned into their lunch. They played pool on the pool table, ping and beer pong on the foldable table, and sunbathed out on the porch. Cole watched lazily as Trevor and Jack tried to outline half of a rink in chalk on the cement slab. They never finished the other half of the rink.

Today, they have to go get some wood and tools to make the rink into a 3D structure so the pucks don’t go flying into the woods when they shoot them. Trevor and Cole are the ones who are supposed to go to the store– Jack has decided to stay behind and wait for Quinn and Luke if they show up while the other boys are at the store.

A convenient excuse, even though the goons are planning to show up today. Trevor expects the brothers to try and weasel their way out of working on the rink, claiming that they’re too tired from travel or they need more time to unpack. The thing is, the boys are flying into Charlotte and renting a car for the summer so that there will be two at the house, so they’re only driving for like an hour compared to Trevor’s eleven. They have no right to be complaining, but they will likely enact a vote and outweigh Cole and Trevor because if the Hughes are anything, it’s lazy and loyal to each others’ laziness.

They’re very driven, but only when they choose to work. When it comes to hockey, they’ll work all day. When it comes to creating the hockey rink or putting together equipment, they would much rather watch. Jim spoiled them that way– he was always the builder of the family and the boys were left to go do whatever they wanted as long as they weren’t annoying their father.

Trevor and Cole put off the trip as long as they can, hoping that maybe the Hughes brothers will show up early and they can force them to go to the store before they can even get out of the car.

When the clock hits two, Trevor decides that the waiting is useless. They could’ve done so much during the day instead of sitting around waiting, but no. He was lucky enough to sit around and do nothing all day and watch stupid daytime TV with Cole while Jack read his texts with his brothers out loud.

The hardware store would be heaven compared to this.

He leaves without Cole at first, driving slowly down the driveway until he sees Cole’s figure run out of the house and after the car. Trevor can imagine what he’s saying as he yells after the vehicle– something about not being left with Jack in case the other Hugheses show up, something about how Trevor is a dick.

They follow the one road on the mountain up to the strip where all the stores are. The hardware store is just a few doors down from the grocery store, so they park in the same parking lot.

Cole and Trevor walk side by side, Cole’s eyes on his phone as they walk while Trevor takes in the brick walkway beneath them. Names are etched on some of the bricks– Jude Doyle, Frederick Lawson, Ansley Hood… Grandma. Trevor has seen stuff like this before, but there’s something different about these names being etched on the bricks of this small town. Everyone probably knew these people, or knew someone who knew them, when they died. It’s so personal.

When they reach the hardware store, Trevor holds the door open for a man leaving. They give each other a curt nod, just a passing glance. Trevor sees absolutely no recognition in his eyes and comments on it. Cole doesn’t care, and says so. Trevor punches his shoulder.

“Welcome in,” the elderly woman at the counter greets. “What are you boys looking for?”

“Hi,” Cole replies, a charming smile on his face. “Could you point me towards the power tools? I can find my way from there.”

The woman smiles and points toward the back of the store. “They’re on the left, sweetie.” She turns to Trevor. “And what about you?”

“We’ll be needing some plywood,” Trevor says. “We’re building a little roller rink.”

“Oh, how fun!” The lady, named Vera if her nametag has any truth to it, claps her hands. “How much do you need, dear?”

“How much have you got?” Trevor asks.

Vera waves her hand. “I don’t know. I’ll call Earl, he’ll send you off with what you need.” She turns and takes a breath before shouting the man’s name. Trevor’s heard that shout before– his grandmother used to do the same thing with his grandfather.

The balding, age-spotted man appears at the door to the back of the shop. “I done told ya I have my hearing aids in, woman,” Earl grumbles to his wife, fond and mean and familiar in the way that only a couple who has been married for fifty years can be.

Vera smacks Earl’s arm as he ambles by her. Earl pulls his arm away and puts another foot between them.

“What do you need, young man?” Earl asks.

“Lots of wood,” Trevor says. “A couple of sheets of plywood and some 2x4s, maybe?”

“Boy, you do not think I have all’a that laying around.” Earl fixes Trevor with a stink-eye.

“Don’t you tell him that!” Vera chimes in. “I know you’ve got plenty of wood out back because you bought all of it and never finished our damn basement.”

“I’m going to finish it!”

“Earl, you’ve been saying that for thirty years, you ain’t never finishing the basement.”

Trevor wants to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. He wants to laugh at this domestic argument and how unreal it is that it’s unfolding in front of him. Instead, he clears his throat. “Excuse me,” he interrupts gently. “I don’t know if I want thirty year old wood for this. We’ll be hitting pucks off the boards all day and I’d like to keep the pucks inside the rink, please.”

“You’re a hockey boy?” Earl questions with a raised brow. When Trevor nods, he lets out a grunt. Trevor can’t tell what that means. Nonetheless, he waves Trevor to follow him into the back.

Trevor squeezes past Vera– she pinches his butt, he thinks– and catches a glimpse of her knitting under the counter when he walks by. She’s knitting something green. It’s too bundled up for him to tell what it is, though. Maybe he’ll ask later.

When he enters the back room, Earl gestures around. “Take your pick of the wood and make a pile over there–” he points to the corner– “and you can drive around back and we can put the wood in your truck there.”

“Oh, I didn’t drive a truck down,” Trevor says before he can help it. Earl makes a face. “But my friend and I can carry the piles ourselves to the car, don’t worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Earl gripes, shuffling away to sit at a bench with a circular saw and a half finished product on the table.

Trevor sifts through the wood, all neatly arranged into piles of similar sizes– but labeled completely wrong. Trevor thinks that Earl might’ve refused to follow Vera’s labels when she first put them up in the shop, but realized that they’re more helpful than harmful. He’s just petty enough of an old man to ignore the labels, but follow the categorization.

Trevor ends up with a pile of ten sheets of plywood– four that are as long as lunch tables, and six that are just squares. Those will go behind the goals, while the long ones will go around the sides of the slab. He picks up a couple of 2x4s, just in case he needs them, and throws them on the pile with a clatter.

“I’m going to go grab my buddy,” Trevor says to Earl.

Earl grunts, but doesn’t budge. He also doesn’t look up from his station.

Cole is chatting up Vera when Trevor rejoins them. He’s leaning over the edge of the counter, asking about Vera’s knitting and her grandchildren. He’s got a bag of goodies next to him– powertools and nails, Trevor assumes.

“Coley, come help me,” Trevor interrupts.

“No manners, this guy,” Cole says to Vera, scoffing and pointing his thumb at Trevor with a shake of his head.

“Well, don’t keep the bear waiting,” Vera replies. Trevor watches her pinch Cole’s ass as he passes, but Cole just laughs and bats her hand away.

Fucking annoying. Always so good with the grandparents.

“The bear?” Trevor asks once Vera is out of earshot. “Is that me?”

Cole smirks. “We’ve got nicknames.”

Earl looks up when they reenter the back. He lets out a laugh, just a short bark. “This is your friend who’s going to help you carry all that wood?”

As the smirk falls off Cole’s face, Trevor picks it up.

“I can carry some wood,” Cole insists. “Probably all of it. I’m stronger than Z is, anyway.”

Earl’s gaze slides over to Trevor. “Z,” he repeats. “I hope you don’t stick with that one.”

Trevor laughs. “You sound like–” he cuts himself off. He never did learn her name, anyway. What’s it to this old man, who he sounds like?

Cole picks up on it though. “Like who, Z?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

Trevor glares at him.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who I sound like and I don’t want to hear your smug little bickering,” Earl admonishes. “Get your wood and get outta my shop.”

Trevor laughs in Cole’s face, then pushes him over towards the pile of wood. “Go on, strong man.”

Cole makes like he’s going to throw a punch at Trevor– Trevor doesn’t flinch, because he hasn’t fallen for that since their first stint on the US team– and puffs up his chest before deciding to pick up the long pieces of wood.

“Compensating for something?” Trevor asks.

“Go fuck yourself,” Cole replies cheerfully, turning on his heel and swinging the wood around with him, hoping to hit Trevor in the stomach. Trevor jumps away.

He picks up the rest of the wood and follows Cole out of the shop, bidding Earl a quiet farewell.

Earl grunts.

Trevor nods to himself, not surprised by the response. Vera is much more sad to see them go, gushing over how strong they are and telling them to come back soon.

“What’s your nickname?” Trevor asks suddenly, as they load the wood into the back of the car.

Cole grins, crooked and smug. “Sweetie.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not. I’m a real hit with the ladies.”

“Yeah, you’re a real fucking hit with the married seventy year olds,” Trevor scoffs. “Don’t fucking talk to me, dude.”

Cole laughs, tossing his head back. He looks over Trevor’s shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your girl?”

Trevor spins around. “Where?” He asks, looking to his left and right.

When Cole starts cackling behind him, Trevor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, dude.”

“Bear, you wouldn’t know what to do without me.” Cole pats Trevor on the chest before rounding the car, settling in the passenger seat.

“Fucking passenger princess,” Trevor seethes.

“You wish you were me.”

“I fucking don’t.”

“The more fucks you say, the more fucks you give.”

“Fuck off.”

They drive back to the house in silence, Trevor’s knuckles white as he deliberates driving off the mountain and taking Cole with him. There are pros, certainly, the top one being that Cole would no longer be part of this vacation. The cons, unfortunately, outweigh the pros: without Cole, Trevor would be alone with the Hughes brothers all summer, except for the occasional visiting savior.

Quinn and Luke have arrived by the time the duo returns to the mountain house. They brought with them another SUV, this one only slightly bigger than Trevor’s vehicle. It’s got a third row of seats, but it’s cramped– they’ll definitely have to take both cars down to Charlotte when they go to practice. Because of the limited trunk space in Quinn’s rental car, Trevor’s car will likely end up being the gear car.

Which is lucky, because who wouldn’t want to spend three hours total in the car with smelly gear while the other car gets to have fun and smell nice?

On second thought, the time alone might be good for Trevor. He loves his friends, he really does, but it’s hard to be around them for so long. He’s lucky that they’re all on different teams, that they keep up when they can, and that it’s not constant. Jack can’t escape his brothers, especially not Luke, but Trevor can escape all three of them.

He spends the evening building the outdoor rink, mostly alone. Quinn helps a little bit, mostly chalking up the lines on the remaining half of the slab. He holds the wood for Trevor while he screws some nails into the pieces to keep them in place. They work mostly in silence, as they often do. Trevor is itching to talk with Quinn, see how he is, but he knows that Quinn is a man of few words. He also knows that Quinn is quick to say that Trevor talks too much. They’re at the point in their relationship where Trevor lets Quinn dictate how much they speak.

Luke tries to cook dinner, he does. Trevor can’t fault him for trying. Jack had to jump in to save them from burnt steaks and soggy vegetables, and even if he can’t salvage everything, he does a pretty good job. Luke apologizes and does the dishes. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, falling asleep on the couch during the movie they picked out, and Quinn wakes Luke like a good big brother and shoos him to bed.

It’s more calm than the lake house, Trevor thinks. They’re not really doing anything differently, are they? And yet, here they are, sitting together in calm silence. They’re drinking bottled beer and laughing over the same jokes they’ve heard a million times, reminiscing about summers past and what they’ll do this summer. Quinn wishes for a lake. Jack tells him they’ll find one.

Trevor goes to bed when the movie ends, frogs croaking past his bedroom window in the depths of the night.

4:90 – HONEY

It’s a Thursday, so Honey gets to sleep in until nine. Sleeping in until nine means that she really wakes up at eight, because she just can’t sleep in late after working at the bookstore for five years now. She sits on her couch on Thursday mornings and reads. She does the crossword in the Litchton Local, the newspaper that comes out weekly on Wednesdays.

There’s an immeasurable stillness in the mountains.

Honey noticed it the first time she came up to this house as a child. Everything moves, like the bugs outside and the leaves on the trees, but everything is so still. Like it’s being held in place by something bigger. She knows the feeling well, but it’s comforting here.

At home, it was uniforms and piano lessons after school. She loves piano, even still, but there was something so crushing about the weight of her perfect posture on that bench when there was all the pressure of beauty breathing down her neck.

Home, Honey thinks again, and laughs.

In the mountains, all of the beauty of the world is there and present and taking up space– but it’s not forced. It’s not the idealized version of everything. It just is.

And everything is so green, especially on a rainy day like this. Honey thinks there’s something sacred about the greenness of the mountains, but it’s the melancholic side of divine that leaves you waiting for another whisper or breath in the wind that never comes.

She used to have a piano that she could play in the mornings. She toted it to the antique store down the road when she made the mountain home hers. Sometimes, she wonders why she did that and regrets it, staring at the dents on the floor where its legs used to stand.

But then she remembers that she’s thinking about the past again and she shakes herself out of it. Five years later, but it’s hard to forget all of the things you grew up knowing.

Honey picks Bea up on the way to work, relishing in the girl’s consistent lateness because it allows her the chance to catch up with her friend. They see each other every day, yes, but the bookstore isn’t suited for some topics.

Such as Bea’s current woes:

“I’ve run out of dating app men,” she complains.

Honey bites back a smile. “Did you run out, or did you just swipe left on all of them?” She asks knowingly.

Bea cuts her eyes at Honey. “All the ones I swiped left on are ugly,” she says. “I can promise you that.”

“Is anyone good-looking in Litchton, Bea?”

Bea’s silence speaks for itself.

Honey laughs, her hair whipping around her face in the breeze from the rolled-down windows of her car.

“If I had known you were dragging me to the Ugly Capital of the World, I wouldn’t have come with you,” Bea announces, like it matters. She’s a liar. She wouldn’t have let Honey leave their hometown without her, no matter where she was going.

“You couldn’t turn it down, you had to come,” Honey replies. “Especially since they asked you to be Mayor.”

Bea gasps, affronted. She stares at Honey, her jaw hanging open. “Are you mad at me? Be honest.” She pouts, her voice whiny.

“Oh my God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay, well, stop being a cunt, please,” Bea sasses. If Honey were more annoyed, she’d reach out and slap Bea’s arm for the attitude. “We have to go to work and I need to put all my focus into pretending to like you.”

“Yeah, because it’s so hard to like me,” Honey says. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, monotone and grating.

“Yeah, it is, you suck.” Bea flips her hair over her shoulder, digging through her bag to find her Walmart lip gloss. She smears the cherry flavored gloss over her lips and puckers up, batting her eyelashes at Honey exaggeratedly. “Gimme a kiss.”

“No.” Honey pulls up to The Reading Nook and parks on the street in front of the building, parallel parking with the practiced ease of someone who’s been dealing with nothing but parallel parking (except in the grocery store and church parking lots) for the last five years.

“Ugh, one day you’ll kiss me,” Bea mutters, staring forlornly out the window.

Honey rolls her eyes. “Bea, we’ve already kissed. You weren’t that good and I didn’t like your lip gloss then, either.”

Bea cringes. “That was like ten years ago, Hon. Things have changed since then. Number one, I’m not in middle school. Number two, I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve had sex since then. Number three, you know it wouldn’t mean anything. I want you to try my lip gloss so bad, come on.”

Honey stares. Bea’s got a stupid smile on her face, teasing and annoying. They hold each other’s eyes for too long before Honey speaks.

“You’re insufferable, did you know that?”

Bea nods. “You are so easy to work up.”

Bea and Honey exit the car at the same time and enter the store through the front, the bell jingling behind them. Ada greets them from behind the counter, teasing Bea for being late again and threatening to cut her pay. She never will, never. Bea is too good with the kids, too happy to talk to mothers, and just dry enough to understand the miserly old man that walks through the door looking for a new World War I book.

In the back, Ada has a bowl of biscuits and jam that Honey reheats and eats over the counter before she starts her day.

She’s supposed to reshelve some books from their Borrow Before You Buy section, the part of the store that acts as the town’s public library. It’s a small task. The pile of books that were returned yesterday is less than a hundred. A good portion of the books are little kid chapter books, the kind you could finish in an hour as an adult because the font is so big and there are full-page pictures twice a chapter.

Bea has to read to the kids at noon– some of the mothers bring snacks, like the end of a youth soccer game. It’s like a potluck lunch and the kids love Bea. Most weeks, it’s just her, but since it’s summer, she’s starting to bring in guest readers. Honey refuses to do it every time. Well, that’s not true– she acts as guest reader once a summer, right before school starts. It’s her one moment of the year.

As she’s restocking the books, Honey hears the bell twinkle with each new customer that walks in. She’s grown used to the noise over the years, so it doesn’t draw her eye anymore.

What does draw her eye, however, is the blunt tap on her shoulder. When she turns around, Bea is blinking innocently at her– no doubt the offending hand in this scenario– with Trevor by her side.

“I was just talking to Trevor here, Honey,” Bea says. “And he was wondering if we had any books that a man his age might like. I thought maybe you should talk to him.”

Honey glares at Bea, purposefully obvious about it so that Trevor sees. What does she know about book recommendations for a man in his twenties? He probably wants some shit sports biography, or worse– he’s embracing his inner old man and he’s ready to venture into the world of World War I non-fiction. Either way, book recommendations are Bea’s thing, not Honey’s. She just stocks the books, builds the shelves, and bonds with the old ladies who come in on Tuesdays.

Bea shrugs with a coy little smile– Honey wishes she could slap it off of her face– and disappears behind the stacks. Honey can tell that she’s still listening from a few feet away, always nosy and overly interested in Honey’s exploits. If she can’t indulge in her own, she’s happy to butt in on Honey’s.

“Trevor,” Honey says, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t wear a bra today. She doesn’t trust him not to look. She also doesn’t trust her nipples not to peak in the cold air.

“Is Honey your real name?” Trevor asks.

She balks at him. “What is it with you and my name?”

Honey expects Trevor to back down, to act timid and normal and earnest like he did at the fruit stand on Monday. She expects him to apologize, yet again, for another inadvertent mistake that Trevor seemed unable to avoid. It’s because he doesn’t think– he just says the words as they come to mind, hoping that the sentence comes out fully formed and making sense.

And yet, he doesn’t.

“Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come,” is what Trevor answers.

Honey gathers her wit quickly, scrambling to find a response to Trevor’s bold statement. She wants something clever, something to turn him down, something to tell him that he’s a cocky prick for saying such a thing while she’s at work, but she comes up with none of the above. Instead, she settles for: “It’s a nickname.”

A smirk tugs at Trevor’s lips and Honey wants to reach out and strangle him. He’s smirking because he thinks he bested her– bested her– and that he’s got the upper hand.

“What kind of book are you looking for, Trevor?” Honey changes the subject, trying to get back on task. She turns, continues restocking the Borrow Before You Buy shelves.

“I’m not sure, Honey,” he replies, really milking his use of her name. “What kind of books do you think I’d like?”

She glances at him, looks him up and down. She tamps down a smile and says in a curt, monotone voice. “Guides on how to make the best of your business trip.”

Trevor laughs at that, more of a shake of his shoulders than a real laugh. “You’re funny, Honey.”

Honey raises her eyebrows and waits for him to continue.

“Hey, that rhymed. Maybe a book of poetry? I need to study my craft if I’m going to be waxing poems about you.”

He’s bold, she thinks. He’s really bold, much more sure of himself than he was on Monday. He’s much more confident, a sharp 180º from where he was the other day.

“Why don’t you keep your waxes to yourself?” Honey asks.

“How can I?”

She turns to him, planting a hand on her hip. “Don’t you have something to do today other than bother me at my bookstore? You don’t even know me. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to get a book. I’m not trying to bother you, I’m just trying to make conversation.” Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets and has the decency to look ashamed, even if it’s just for a split second and just to see if Honey will crumble. She knows his type. She’s seen them before.

“You’re flirting with me,” Honey accuses. “Not making conversation.” She puts air quotes around the last two words.

Trevor smiles. “You caught me,” he says simply, no shame evident in his voice. The smile stays on his lips as he and Honey look at each other. He raises his eyebrows and she takes it as a challenge.

“I’m not interested, Trevor.”

“I could show you a good time, Honey.”

“In Litchton?”

“Don’t you hear how good it sounds when I say your name? It’s like we’ve been hooking up for ages and I’ve got a special little name for you.”

“A name that everyone else uses.”

“It’s special to me.”

“How about a self-help book?”

Trevor clutches at his chest, jaw dropping in fake-misery. “You think I need help?”

“If you’re not going to buy a book, then you need to leave me alone.” Honey places the last book in her stack on the shelf and looks at Trevor expectantly. The silence sits between them, suspended for a moment.

“Do you have any books about space?” He asks.

Honey notices that his voice is softer, a little more genuine. She examines his features, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She waits for the joke about not wanting space from her, needing her in his orbit, or whatever. It doesn’t come. She scans his figure one last time, realizing that her brow is furrowed and she’s chewing on the inside of her bottom lip as she does so. She smoothens her expression, hoping Trevor didn’t pick up on her calculating stare.

“How do you feel about creative nonfiction?” Honey asks.

Trevor scrunches his nose.

“Memoirs, personal histories, stuff like that,” Honey supplies. She softens her voice to match his tone. She almost feels a little shy. “We only have one book about space that I’ve read and it’s creative nonfiction, but it’s really good.” Quieter, then: “I liked it.”

Trevor nods, a little hesitant. This is the Trevor she met on Monday. “Okay.”

“Follow me.” Honey leads him to the nonfiction section, to the rows of books whose authors bear a last name that starts with ‘D.’ She runs her fingers along the titles of the books at the height of her chest while scanning the upper shelves. “It’s there,” she says, pointing to the row just out of her reach. “It’s by ‘Dean.’” She looks down, around her on the floor. “Where’s my step ladder…?”

“I can reach it,” Trevor says, stepping forward. He places a hand on the small of Honey’s back and reaches up, fingers hesitating as he searches for the right book. When he finds the spine bearing Dean’s name, he bounces up on his tiptoes for just a second to slide the book from its position on the shelf.

Honey has never been more aware of a hand in her life. His touch is light, just a passing glance really, but it weighs on her. It’s like she’s standing in quicksand and she waited too long to try and get out.

He’s so close to her when he stands flat on his feet again. He’s got the book in one hand and his other still rests on Honey’s back.

She steps away.

His eyes follow her, but instead of saying anything, he just flips the book over in his hand. He reads the back cover and as he does so, Honey puts more space between them. She takes a breath, trying to stay quiet, and grounds herself.

“Is it really any good?” Trevor asks. “Do I have to buy it?”

“Yes, and, um.” Honey throws a look over her shoulder. She lost track of Bea while she and Trevor went to find this book. Fuck, her nosey best friend could be anywhere. “You can borrow it. We just usually give people a week or so to bring it back, and if you don’t, we track you down.”

“Track me down?” Trevor asks, chuckling.

“Yeah.” Honey nods. “Small town. Everybody knows everybody, or knows somebody who knows everybody.”

“Stalking me, Honey?” Trevor teases.

“We’ve met twice, and both times it was because you came up to me. If anyone is the stalker here, it’s you.”

Trevor turns the book over in his hand again, looking down to avoid Honey’s gaze. “Leaving Orbit, huh?” He bites his lip and takes in the sight of Honey in front of him. He taps the book with his other hand. “I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”

“I know it’s good. I read it.”

“Baby, if you knew good, you’d be all over me.”

Honey scoffs. “Alright, fun’s over. Get out of here, Trevor.” She shoos him away, practically pushing him out of the shop. She sticks her tongue out at him through the glass after closing the door behind him. She watches him laugh, run his hands through his hair, and turn away.

‘Zegras’ is written in bold letters across his back, the number 11 in the center of his t-shirt. The detail catches Honey’s eye as she watches him walk away, down the street towards a car with a New York license plate that looks far too perfect and expensive to belong in Litchton. She bites the inside of her lip again, pondering. If anyone asks, she doesn’t care, but Trevor’s different than anyone she’s ever met. She wonders why.

But no, she doesn’t care.

Bea does.

“He plays hockey,” Bea announces, revealing herself. “He’s good, too. NHL. He was a top ten pick when he was drafted.”

Honey just nods. Twice. That’s all she needs. They’re small movements and she’s still chewing on her lip.

“What did he get?”

Honey clears her throat. “Just the, uh, Dean book about space.”

Honey can practically hear the face Bea makes behind her back. “You think he’ll enjoy that?” Bea asks. “It’s really personal.”

“It was the only book I could think of,” Honey replies with a shrug. She finally turns around to face Bea. “You’ve got to stop spying on me. I know you listened to our whole conversation.”

Bea pouts and stomps her foot, the sound echoing along the stacks around them. “How could I not?” She demands. “‘Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come?’ Honey, girl. Be serious.”

“Bea, you know I’m not looking for that right now.”

“You’re never fucking looking for that,” Bea hisses, pinching Honey’s wrist until she flinches away. “It’s falling into your lap and you’re pushing it out the door! What’s wrong with you?”

Honey glares at her with a tilted head.

Bea relents. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass,” she threatens. “You can’t be a spinstery old maid forever, Honeybear. They’re only here for the summer. Maybe you should embrace it.”

“He’ll be gone within the week.”

Bea sighs. “Whatever you say.”

5:90 – TREVOR

“We need to throw a party,” Trevor says over breakfast.

“Why?” Luke asks, voice scratchy from lack of use. He yawns and runs his fingers through his hair, further messing up his already messy curls. He’s not wearing a shirt– none of them are– and Trevor is astounded by how pale Luke is.

“We need to get you outside more,” Trevor mumbles, then clears his throat and continues speaking. “It’s like a housewarming thing.”

Unimpressed, Cole rolls his eyes. “Who do you want to invite?” He asks.

Trevor pauses, side-eying his friend. “Nobody,” he deflects.

Quinn snorts, the spoon he’s using for his cereal clinking against the side of his bowl. “Not much of a party.”

“He wants to invite the girl that he met the other day,” Jack says, butting into the conversation.

Luke frowns. “What girl?”

“Some townie that he met at the fruit stand when we went to the grocery store,” Jack explains. “He doesn’t know her name.”

“Her name is Honey, actually,” Trevor interrupts.

The table stills. Each of the boys’ eyes turn towards Trevor and he suddenly feels like an ant under a child’s magnifying glass, boiling under the glare.

Cole pushes up an invisible pair of glasses and raises a finger, pursing his lips. “Actually,” he mocks, then drops the tone. “How do you know her name, Z?”

Trevor shrugs noncommittally. “I ran into her when I went into town yesterday.”

“Oh, when you were supposed to pick up laundry detergent and you came back with a book instead?” Cole asks. “That makes sense, much more sense than what Luke said.”

Trevor blanches. “What did Luke say?”

Jack snickers.

Trevor turns to Luke. “What did you say?”

Quinn smiles and hides his face, taking a large mouthful of his cereal to leave Luke hanging if he asked for help.

Luke flushes. “I mean, you know… that maybe you confused the two.”

“How the fuck would I confuse laundry detergent with a book?” Trevor snaps. “They’re two completely different things, fuckface.”

Luke throws his hands up in surrender. “We were just thinking of reasons why you might’ve come back without the one thing we needed.”

Trevor looks around the table. “You guys are such assholes.”

“Bro, you’re the one that forgot laundry detergent because you were too busy chatting up some chick,” Jack defends the group. “Now we can’t even do our laundry.”

“If it’s so fucking important to you, go get the detergent yourself!”

A smile breaks out on Jack’s face. “Maybe I will,” he says, his voice shit-eating. “I might need to grab a book for myself, too.”

Trevor’s anger increases tenfold, for no fucking reason. “The fuck you do,” he snaps. “You don’t even know how to read.”

Jack’s face twists, his emotions finally aligning with Trevor’s own. “Fuck you, dude. You know I can read, I just don’t like to.”

Trevor scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I just want to have a party,” he mutters, stabbing at his eggs with his fork.

The boys fall into silence, finishing their breakfasts. Trevor pouts, frustrated that the boys weren’t immediately on board with his idea for a party.

If they were in Michigan, the Hughes brothers would have the front door of the house unlocked past 10pm. The people they know from the golf course, from the lake, from the pickleball courts would all be pouring through the doorway and into the party. Everyone knows that on Saturday nights, the Hughes brothers invite people over and they have a big bonfire. Apparently, that only applies in Michigan.

Trevor leaves the breakfast table first, to jeers from the other boys about being pouty and bitchy for not getting his way. Trevor knows that he’s going to invite Honey and her friend– Bee? Bea? B?– over tomorrow night no matter what the goons say. There’s not much to do in Litchton, he knows that, so he doesn’t want to leave the girls out. Otherwise, they might just sit at home all night. Trevor can’t have that.

Obviously, that’s his only motive. He would never have any other reason to invite Honey and Bea over to the house at night. Never.

Maybe one other reason.

But that’s irrelevant.

He spends the morning outside, using the extra wood from Earl to build a fire pit in the half-circle clearing near the edge of the forest. When they were younger, Trevor’s sister might’ve thought this area was where the fairies lived, and maybe she would have built them a house. He wonders briefly if Honey was the same way when she was a child, when she was growing up in rural Litchton with nothing else to do but imagine.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know if Honey grew up here. She seems so intimately integrated into the town that she has to be from here, has to have grown up here. She must know all the town secrets and all the town gossip and fuck, Trevor wants to know all of that and more.

He can’t explain the feeling he has about Honey. He’s just… drawn to her. It doesn’t make sense– he doesn’t know her. He’s barely met her. She did not exist in his life a week ago and yet, she’s popping up in his thoughts like they’ve known each other for years. Like they’ve been inseparable for years. When he thinks about it, he decides that Honey is like one of the girls he would have met in elementary school in Bedford. Honey is one of the girls that he would have grown up with, one of the neighbor girls from down the street with whom he rode his bike on hot summer days.

She’s got a hometown charm feel to her. Trevor has to see her again.

He finishes building the wooden part of the fire pit before realizing how stupid it was to build the pit out of wood. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head, though, because it’s an excuse to go see her, to invite her to his party. He can go to the hardware store on the way, pick up some stone and gravel to line the wood, protect it from catching flame. He can pick up some firewood from the grocery store for their first fire and pick up the laundry detergent he forgot yesterday. Jack won’t be so annoying then.

Trevor doesn’t bother telling the boys where he’s going– he just gets in the car and drives away.

It takes all of fifteen minutes to make his way to the bookstore. It’s still early, so he doesn’t even know if it’s open yet. Trevor and the boys are so used to waking up early for hockey that they’ve been up for about two hours and the whole day is still ahead of them.

When Trevor pulls at the front door of The Reading Nook, it doesn’t swing open the way it did yesterday. He knows the doors are easy on their hinges, considering how easily Honey slammed the door behind him yesterday, but today, the wood is barely budging. He knocks on the door, loud.

Honey’s friend’s head peeks out from behind a stack, confusion written all over her expression. Trevor waves at her, gesturing at the door. She laughs, then approaches the door. She points down at the ‘Closed’ sign hanging near the handle.

Trevor tilts his head, unimpressed. “I have to talk to you,” he says through the glass.

Bea unlocks the door and opens it with a snorted laugh. “What’s up, Trevor? Honey’s not here yet.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

Bea steps aside and lets him into the store. “You want her.”

Trevor sputters at her honesty. “I don’t know her.”

“You want her,” Bea repeats with a nod and a knowing smile. “And you want to know how to get her.”

“Well, yes,” Trevor says. “But also, no. I wanted to invite you– both, you both– to a party tomorrow night.”

Bea smiles. She crosses her arms over her chest. “You want my best friend and all I get is some measly party? Come on, Trevor. What’s in it for me?”

Trevor thinks for a minute. “What do you want?”

Bea laughs. She pokes her tongue into her cheek and looks expectantly at Trevor.

“Whoa,” Trevor says, taking a step back. “That’s really… forward, but–”

“I don’t want you, Trevor,” Bea scoffs. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “So self-centered, Honey was right about that. But, I’ll help you get her and I’ll make sure we make it to your party if you give me what I do want.”

Trevor hums, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want?”

Bea smiles, devilish and conniving. “The dating pool up here is pretty dry, and I hear you’ve got a few friends.”

Trevor nods.

Bea blinks at him. “Do you have any pictures of these friends? I would’ve looked you up, but Honey and I swore off Instagram years ago.”

That makes sense. That’s why he couldn’t find Honey when he looked her up last night– not that he had much to go off of. Still, “Honey Litchton NC” didn’t reveal many results.

Trevor fumbles with his phone, showing her a picture of the group from last summer. He watches her fingers pinch and zoom in on the picture, on each individual. She keeps her expression neutral, a poker face that impresses Trevor. She hums, thoughts racing behind her eyes too quick for Trevor to understand them.

“We’ll come to your party,” Bea says simply, handing the phone back to Trevor. She snatches it back at the last second. “Wait,” she says, and clicks around for a second.

Trevor waits, then she hands the phone back. On the screen is a contact page for ‘Bea McLean.’

“It’s pronounced like McLane,” Bea tells Trevor. “Since you’re so obsessed with names.”

“Okay,” Trevor cuts her off with a sarcastic nod.

Bea laughs. “Don’t get sassy with me, I have all the power here.”

“Yeah, but I have your number,” Trevor flaunts.

“I could just block you, easily,” Bea points out. “Then where would you be?”

Wisely, Trevor bites his tongue. After a deep breath, he asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Now get out, Honey’s supposed to get here soon and I don’t want her seeing you. She’s annoyingly on time. She’ll know we’re in cahoots.” Bea, much like her best friend did yesterday, pushes Trevor to the door and shoves him through it. She slams it behind him, flipping the sign so it says ‘Open’ instead, and waving Trevor off with a blown kiss.

she’s a flirt, Trevor thinks. those guys will not survive her for a second.

He doesn’t know which boy she has her eye on, but it doesn’t matter. Quinn’s too quiet for her, Luke is too awkward, Jack is too cocky, and Cole is too… short.

Trevor snorts at the insult, laughing to himself. He heads to the grocery store, where he parked, and purchases two gallon bottles of laundry detergent and a Sharpie. He writes “JACK” on one and puts them both in the trunk of the car. Then, he walks to the hardware store.

“Bear!” Vera greets from behind the counter, joints creaking as she moves from her chair behind the counter to give Trevor a hug.

“Oh, Vera, you don’t have to come all the way over here,” Trevor says awkwardly, but hugs the woman back nonetheless.

“Of course I did!” Vera exclaims. “You look so handsome, young man.”

Trevor blushes, shying away from Vera’s examining fingers. She squints at the logo on his chest, one of his shirts from Anaheim.

“I live in Anaheim,” Trevor explains to the woman, catching her hands in his and holding them securely in front of her body before letting go. “Do you have any stone that I could secure a fire pit with?”

“Yes, baby!” Vera claps and leads him to a section of the store that’s, somehow, even more peculiar than Earl’s workshop. There’s bags of gravel, sure, but it looks like fish food compared to some of the other bags and miscellaneous stones on the shelves. “Pick whatever you’d like. I’ll give you a discount for being so darn cute.”

Trevor chuckles. “I bet you give that to all your customers,” he teases.

“I had a local girl put it in the computer for me after we met you and Sweetie on Wednesday,” Vera teases back, batting her eyelashes. Her cheeks are red with blush, too much blush. “His discount is a little more because I see you’ve changed the body God gave you.”

Trevor follows her eyes to his tattoos. He rubs his opposite hand over them sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.” He tries to smile charmingly. “Maybe I should’ve sent him to do the shopping today, since you like Sweetie so much.” He throws a wink into the mix to punctuate his sentence.

Vera laughs, a twinkling sound.

“Plus, it’d be cheaper for me,” Trevor says, like it’s a scandalous secret.

“I know that’s right!” Vera claps again, waves a hand at Trevor like she’s slapping her knee. She walks off, back to the counter, leaving Trevor to shop for his stones.

He shops through the stones for about half an hour, choosing his favorites. He settles on a midsize gray stone, one that he can stack and seal with cement. He buys the quick drying cement as well, and carries it all to his car. Vera carries the quick dry cement and giggles when Trevor easily shifts the stones in his grasp when she complains about the bucket being too heavy for an old lady. He picks up the bucket and shifts the stones again, knowing he can carry more than this if he needed to. He swears he hears Vera sigh dreamily behind him as he packs the car up.

Like he said, what’s flirting with a few old ladies?

When he bids her goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, Trevor makes eye contact with Honey in the bookstore window. He grins at her and winks to her for good measure. He thanks Vera for her help while he escorts her back to the store, just for the sake of Honey seeing how selfless he can be. He’s not self-centered, no matter what she told Bea.

Vera insists that Trevor and “his band of boys” join her and Earl at church that Sunday morning, pledging to introduce them to the other members of the community. Trevor agrees, thinking that being on Vera’s good side might get him even closer to Honey.

Trevor drives back to his home for the summer to find that the boys are playing in the rink he built.

Come to think of it, he’s making a lot of improvements to this property, and the only one who has actually helped is Quinn.

Not self-centered at all.

He deserves a party.

“We’re having a party,” Trevor calls out, carrying his stones toward the fire pit. He dumps his supplies on the ground. “And I invited two girls.” He wipes the dirt and dust from his fingers. “Someone else needs to finish this fire pit because I’m tired of building your shit. C’mon, Quinn.”

He leads the way inside, to grab a beer from the fridge, and Quinn follows after kicking off his skates, eager to avoid the work. The other brothers and Cole are left dumbfounded on the concrete. Jack makes eye contact with the cement mix first, and he smiles.

They always did love a little project, and maybe they can hide a drawing of a dick in the cement for the owners to find at the end of the summer.

6:90 – HONEY

“Where are we going?” Honey asks.

Bea has barely crossed over the threshold of Honey’s home before the question falls from her lips. Bea’s been cagey about it all day– just explaining that “we have plans” and that “you’ll enjoy them.” Honey loves her, sure, but this is absurd. She feels like she’s being kidnapped.

“More like when are we going,” Bea corrects. “Let’s get you an outfit.”

Honey stumbles back, Bea pushing her out of the way. She closes the door behind her friend, following Bea as she stomps up the stairs to Honey’s bedroom. Bea knows Honey’s place as well as she knows her own, a little townhouse off of the main street in town. Honey’s lucky to live a little farther from city center, closer to the magic of the mountains.

“What kind of plans do we have, at least?” Honey presses. She looks at Bea’s outfit– a jean skirt that falls like an old Poodle skirt and a white bandeau top. It’s sort of see-through– Honey can see the shadow and outline of Bea’s nipples through the skimpy top. “I don’t want to dress like you,” Honey says.

Bea scoffs and turns to Honey. “My plan tonight is to get laid, your plan tonight is to accompany me while I evaluate my prey.”

Honey pretends to gag. “I hate when you say that.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone to flirt with,” Bea says.

“So, where are we going tonight? Statesville? Winston?” Honey asks again, hoping Bea will relent since she now knows the purpose of their adventure.

“Dude, I’m not telling you,” Bea laughs.

She reaches Honey’s closet and throws the curtain open. She strolls into the closet, looking through Honey’s clothes.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Honey asks, looking down at her athletic shorts and little tank top.

Bea turns around and surveys Honey. “The shirt is fine.” She returns to her task. “Nice tits.”

Honey looks down. It’s a revealing top and she’s not wearing a bra, because it’s a Saturday and she didn’t know they had plans until Bea told her this afternoon. “Maybe not, then.”

Bea glares at Honey out of her peripheral. “But that’s your favorite tank.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to get hit on if I wear this shirt.”

“You’re going to get hit on anyway. Keep the shirt.”

“No, I won’t, because my bitch face will keep most of the guys away.”

“Most of the guys. Which is the whole thing. Those ones will come to me.”

“Ew, you’re going to have a threesome tonight?”

“A threesome?” Bea spins around. “God, no! One at a time for me, thanks. I’m just going to fuck the other ones.”

“Other than who?” Honey asks. “I’m not fucking anyone tonight.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Whatever.” She digs through the closet, finding a long-buried white tennis skirt, the back pleats of the skirt puffy. Honey would never wear something like that, but Bea would– it’s probably Bea’s skirt in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” Honey states.

Bea wrestles her into it– seriously. She tackles Honey onto the bed and literally redresses her, the absurdity of the situation so bizarre that it completely bypasses both girls’ minds. Honey fights Bea the whole time, but Bea comes out on top. She gets her way, Honey wears the skirt, but she’s not happy about it.

“Do I, at least, get to drive?” Honey asks.

“Oh, I was going to force you,” Bea laughs. “You don’t expect me to drive you home, do you? I’ll be… indisposed.”

Honey scowls the rest of the time they spend getting ready– Bea does Honey’s hair and forces Honey to put on some light makeup, just a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and some lipgloss.

The only problem with Bea and Honey’s relationship is that Bea likes to go out, likes to meet people, likes to have a wild time, whereas Honey prefers to stay in. She’d rather watch a documentary or read a book or be present in nature than packed into a club dancefloor like a sardine in a larger can. Not that that matters to Bea.

By the time they get in the car, Bea is jumping off the walls trying to keep her secret destination to herself. Honey keeps trying to push, hoping for the right moment, but Bea won’t reveal her plans. All she does is direct Honey to the main road and type away at her phone, sending text after text to an unknown recipient, an unknown recipient that Honey is sure they’ll be meeting up with later.

They drive further into the mountains, to Honey’s surprise. They don’t head towards Winston or Statesville. They drive up, farther from town, farther from their neighbors. Near the top of the mountain, the houses are miles apart.

Perfect for a party.

Perfect for a party… thrown by boys in their twenties.

It clicks in Honey’s mind as Bea tells her to turn into the hidden driveway along the curve. “You’re not,” Honey says.

Bea laughs. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to catch on. I thought for sure you would’ve clocked me when we turned left instead of right.”

“Bea,” Honey scolds, her voice sharp. They’re on the driveway now, safe from the curves of the road, and Honey stops the car. She turns to her best friend. “You can’t be serious.”

For all of her audacity, Bea manages to understand the gravity of the situation at hand. It finally clicks in her head, why Honey isn’t happy with her plans, and why she’s even unhappier that she was dragged out here without knowing what she was walking into. She can’t just drop Bea off and leave– she would be abandoning her best friend in a house of strange boys all evening. Bea might be outgoing, but she hasn’t been hurt like Honey.

“It’s not going to be like that,” Bea reassures Honey gently, grabbing Honey’s hand with both of hers. “I promise, they’re not like that.”

“You don’t know them, Bea,” Honey explains.

“You don’t either,” Bea points out. “And this time, we’re together. The second they do something– I mean it, the second– we’ll leave. I’ll go with you. Fuckery be damned.”

Honey grimaces, rolling her shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension. She takes a deep breath, then squints at Bea. “Are you really going to fuck all of them?” She asks.

Bea grins, knowing that she’s convinced Honey to at least try and hang out with the boys. She’s smug, getting her way once again. She winks at Honey, coy. “Just the ones you don’t want,” she simpers, giggling. “You get your pick of the litter.”

“I don’t want to fuck any of them. I don’t know how many times we have to go over this.”

“So, you don’t want Trevor? ‘Cuz I was thinking–”

“Don’t fuck Trevor,” Honey groans.

“Why not?” Bea teases.

“You’re better than that, Buzzy,” Honey scoffs with a shake of her head. “He’s weird and a flirt and annoying.”

“I’m weird,” Bea says. “And a flirt. And annoying.” She puckers her lips and blows kisses at Honey as she shifts the car into drive and begins to creep down the driveway again. “Maybe it’s a match made in heaven, me and Trevor.”

“You don’t want him,” Honey growls, her voice short.

Bea shrugs and faces forward in her seat, her hands tapping her thighs. Whether it’s from nerves or excitement, Honey can’t tell. If she had to guess, though, it would be excitement. Bea is the least anxious person that Honey knows, the kind of person who can talk to anyone or anything no matter the situation.

While they might be athletes, they’ve never met anyone like Bea. Honey never has, not since she met her best friend all those years ago. They’re fucked– and she’s irresistible.

Honey and Bea pull up to the house and park under the cover, right next to the front door. This house was a point of contention when it was being built the first year Honey moved to Litchton. It was her first introduction to the gossip of the founding ladies. Scarlett and Gillian had felt particularly perturbed by the building– a five bed, four bathroom house complete with a hot tub and a game room and two stories of wraparound porches.

And it’s all made of the same wood, the same stain, the same ugly pattern. Honey cringes when she thinks about the number of trees that were cut down to make this house match. She’d think the same thing if it was made entirely out of the same stone.

Bea knocks on the door as Honey wipes her sweat from her palms. It takes a minute, but then Honey hears the scrambling of feet and the shouting between one man and his group of buddies, who are just giggling as they do what they can to cut him off from the door. Honey can see it through the thin windows bordering the door, how they rush up the stairs and down the hall. She can also see how they’re holding Trevor back as much as they can.

The brunet from the first day opens the door with a charming smile. “Hi,” he greets. “Can I help you?”

“Jack, you motherfucker–”

Honey bites back a laugh as Trevor curses and struggles, still in the grasp of the shorter boy from the first day and one of the newcomers– another brunet, a taller one. She looks at him carefully– the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, partially hidden under a baseball cap, the curve of his eyebrows, and the slope of his lips give him away. He must be one of Jack’s brothers.

“We were invited to come over tonight,” Bea replies.

No matter how many times she hears it, Honey is always impressed by the way Bea turns on her charm and makes the people around her melt. It worked on her, too, when they first became friends all those years ago, and then less and less when Bea moved into Honey’s place when they first came to Litchton together and shared a bed for almost a year before Bea found her own townhouse. Then, her charm just got annoying, like a younger sibling who tags along with you everywhere because Mom said they had to.

It’s better for them when Bea and Honey have their time apart. Honey, especially, needs her time alone.

Jack’s eyes finally find Honey behind Bea and he grins. “That’s right,” he says, tapping his forehead like he just remembered. Honey can tell that all he’s doing is messing with Trevor, though. “The party! You must be the girls that Z invited. Hi, Honey.”

“Hi, Jack,” Honey replies, short and sweet. She turns on her customer service voice just for this. She finds Cole next to Trevor and smiles when her eyes slide over the imprisoned boy, as passive as she can be. “Hi, Cole.”

“Hey, Honey,” Cole says with an easy smile. Honey wants to snort and laugh– he’s got a smile that could get him into or out of anything. She wonders briefly if he’s childish and impish, still, even in their adult age, just because he’s got the smile to match.

Jack steps aside and lets the girls enter the house. He closes the door behind them and Honey has a sneaking suspicion that if she turned to glance at him, he’d be staring at one of their backsides. She doesn’t look. It’s not worth the joke that she could make if she caught him.

Bea nudges Honey and points up.

Honey tilts her head, and– “A chandelier made of moose antlers. Wow,” she marvels. She makes a face at Bea, then continues. “That’s really… something.”

“Isn’t it sick?” Cole asks, finally dropping Trevor’s arm and joining the girls where they stand. He spreads his arms out from his sides and spins in a slow circle. When he makes a full turn, he looks at both girls and wiggles his eyebrows. “Want a tour?”

The girls agree and Cole takes them throughout the house, leaving the other boys behind. From their pounding feet, Honey figures they’re headed downstairs, while Cole takes them upstairs. He shows them the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the common areas, the hallways, the outlet in his room that doesn’t work, and much more. They go back downstairs and get the same treatment– Cole even opens the fridge and helps himself to a beverage before offering anything to the girls. They see the kitchen, the living room, the den, the dining room and patio. Cole shows them the wraparound porch and its chairs. Honey takes in the view– it’s just as good as the one from her living room.

Finally, finally, they make their way down to the basement. It’s a smaller room, minimized by a covered porch and larger patio with a hot tub. The basement is clearly the man cave, the game room, or whatever you want to call it. There’s a pool table, a large TV, a ping pong table, a foosball table… everything a boy could want.

As evidenced by the two boys sitting on the couches near the pool table, while the other two wield sticks and study the position of the balls on the table.

Honey finds Trevor on the couch with Jack. His eyes found her first as she walked down the stairs and he hasn’t stopped staring. Neither has she, to be fair.

“Pool,” Bea notices. She looks at Honey and Honey shakes her head. Bea nods. “Honey and I are next,” she announces anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” Jack asks with a little laugh. “Are you any good?”

“I’m okay,” Bea says. She pauses, lets a smirk on her face grow as she looks over to Honey. “Honey’s worse.”

The boys turn to Honey. “Are you?” Trevor asks.

“I wager she could still beat you, Z,” says the only boy that Honey had not seen when they arrived at the house earlier. He’s got dark hair, but it’s also hidden under a backwards cap. The only difference between him and his brothers, assuming he is one of the brothers that Trevor mentioned on Monday, is that he’s smaller, more sullen. The telltale sign is that his comment is offhanded, delivered with the calm venom of an older brother who knows exactly where to bite. He doesn’t even look at Trevor as he lines up his shot and sinks the ball.

Honey likes him immediately.

When she looks over, she notices that Bea likes him too. Her lips are pursed in thought, only the minutest pout on her mouth. There’s a tiny smile pulling at her cheek and her eyes are twinkling under the bright lights, but they would be hazardous in a club.

It’s a game they’ve played before. Bea sucks at pool– she always has, but… when you suck at pool, either the person you’re playing with will laugh at you or they’ll try to give you tips. The night usually ends with Bea sinking the 8 ball with a little bit of help from her gentleman caller and a celebratory, “thank you” kiss.

Honey, however, loves pool. She wasn’t always great at pool, but found that, like almost everything, the more she practiced, the better she became. When Bea’s celebratory kisses turned into rushed hookups in the Winston-Salem dive bar bathrooms, Honey got her fair share of tips and tricks from the other men around. Usually, she would try to shack up with the alcoholic middle aged men who had nothing better to do than sip on their beer and play pool after dinner with their wives. It was rare that they flirted with Honey and she liked it that way.

The game goes like this: Bea finds a group of men that puff up their chest at the idea of beating a woman at pool, she “lets them win” against her (as if she would’ve won in the first place), and then it’s Honey’s turn. Honey, of course, feints a few shots and lets the men get comfortable before coming from behind and beating them. Usually, her win results in two drinks for her and her friend.

Today, the drinks won’t be her bargaining chip.

“What would you wager?” Honey asks the boy who last spoke. “If it were a real bet.”

His stormy eyes look her up and down while Jack’s brother, the tall one, paces around the table to find his best shot. “Money, normally,” he drawls. “But I’d rather not lose my money betting on you if you’re worse than her.” He nods to Bea, who takes the chance to blatantly look him up and down.

“How about this,” Bea proposes, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “I’ll play the winner of this game and then we’ll see if Honey can beat Trevor. If I win, I get whatever I want, obviously. If Honey wins…”

Honey meets Bea’s eyes. She nods, knowing that Bea is thinking back to the night when they visited ECU their junior year of high school and witnessed a rugby party in the flesh. It’s their usual punishment when their outings feature a house party and a pool table.

“...Trevor has to do a Zulu Run,” Bea finishes.

Honey finds Trevor again and smiles, overexaggerated and sickly sweet.

“What’s a Zulu Run?” Trevor asks, looking to the other boys and finding nothing but confusion. On the girls’ faces, he just sees plotted mayhem.

“It’s fun, don’t worry,” Honey reassures him. “You only have to do it if you lose. Which, I mean, if I’m worse than Bea, then you should be fine.”

Honey sits on the loveseat across from Trevor and Jack, while Bea sits down next to Jack. Her knee presses against his, subtly, just enough that you can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just a lack of room on the couch and Honey presses her hand to her lips to hide a smile.

“So you’re Jack,” Bea says, interrupting the conversation that he and Trevor had been in when the girls walked down the stairs.

Honey watches as Bea makes her eyes look wide and soft, very flirtatious and fairy-like. She’s got the perfect complexion for it– the light dusting of freckles over her skin, the ounce of baby fat still left in her cheeks and all the right places along her body, her expression just the right amount of interested but not desperate.

For a brief moment, Honey wishes she was more like Bea.

“You’ve heard of me?” Jack asks with a little smirk.

Bea scoffs and waves him off. “Don’t flatter yourself. Honey didn’t even tell me your name.”

Jack’s bright eyes turn to Honey. “Oh, yeah?” He tilts his chin up in challenge. “What is it with you and names? You wouldn’t tell Trevor yours, you haven’t properly introduced me to…”

“Bea,” Bea supplies.

Honey shakes her head fondly at her best friend’s eagerness. Honey bites her tongue to keep her comments at bay, and instead plasters a tight smile on her face. “I didn’t realize I would be seeing you all again,” Honey says, forcing politeness into her voice. “And I’m not the one who’s weird about names.”

Jack and Trevor share a look. Jack hides a snort poorly.

“What?” Honey asks, her eyebrows raised and her mouth in a straight, unimpressed line.

Jack smirks and Trevor shakes his head. Jack speaks anyway. “I don’t know how you would have avoided us,” Jack says. “Considering.”

“Considering…?” Bea asks, leaning around Jack to look at Trevor. Honey catches Trevor’s panicked glance and can guess what Jack’s alluding to. She jumps in, hoping to switch the subject.

“Nothing to consider,” Honey and Trevor say at the same time. Trevor sounds rushed, Honey sounds indifferent. Both of their jaws drop and they stare at each other, Honey affronted and Trevor surprised.

Cole, who had been sitting on the stool-saddles near the pool table, steps over the back of the couch and weasels his way between Trevor and Jack. “Creepy,” he says. “You’re like the twins from the Shining.”

Trevor cringes. “You know, I don’t think we are.”

Honey just hums, picking up her drink and taking a sip. She clears her throat and turns back to Jack. “So those are your brothers?” She nods over to the pool table, where the shorter boy is lining up the 8-ball with the corner pocket. “Trevor said you had family coming.”

Honey doesn’t miss the smirk and blush on Trevor’s face when she says his name, even as he dips his head and takes a gulp of his beer to cover it up.

Jack smiles, a genuine smile. It’s easy to tell the difference with him, when he’s really smiling or if he’s smiling because he thinks he’s supposed to.

“Yeah, the goons.” Jack looks over his shoulder and grins as his taller brother loses his game of pool. “C’mon, Rusty, you brought that pool stick all this way and your game still sucks?”

The taller boy glares at Jack and sulks, re-racking his stick. He walks over and stands awkwardly behind the couch, but flicks Jack on the back of the head and Honey giggles before she can help it.

She looks down at her lap after letting out the little laugh and misses the way Trevor’s eyes light up and train on her.

“Luke, you fucker,” Jack swears, flinching at the impact of Luke’s flick. Jack frowns, his eyebrows furrowed as he rubs the back of his head. “He’s my little brother.”

“Little brother,” Honey repeats. “And you’re just going to let him flick you like that?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Very funny, Honey. Obviously I’m not going to let him get away with it.” He reaches around and half-asses a punch to Luke’s dick, just hard enough that it expels an “oof” from the younger boy and he doubles over a little bit.

The other boy interrupts. “Quit it,” he says. He glares at his brothers, then his eyes fix on Bea. “Your turn.”

Bea stands and smiles, a smug little smirk reserved for her conspiratory looks with Honey that signifies that she’s getting what she wanted. She joins the man by the rack of sticks and clasps her hands behind her back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Which stick should I use?”

Jack looks a little put out by the loss of Bea at his side, and casts a glare toward his other brother. “And that’s Quinn,” he says curtly. “Pool master, or whatever.”

“So he’s the best in the house?” Honey asks.

“We’ll tally scores at the end of the summer,” Luke jumps in as Quinn says, “Absolutely.”

Jack scowls. “You just think that because you’re older. Remember, Quinn: first is the worst. Second is the best.”

Trevor snorts and takes another sip of his beer.

He’s unnaturally quiet, Honey thinks. Trying to be cool in front of his friends, maybe.

“I take it you’re the second child,” Honey says. “That makes sense.”

“That makes sense?” Jack asks, repeating her statement like he can’t believe she dared to say that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Honey looks over at Bea, who presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows. Daring Honey.

Honey rolls her head back, stretching the muscles of her neck. “You…” She starts, trailing off because she’s not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding mean. She scratches her eyebrow and scrunches her nose. “You like attention,” she decides, trying to keep her voice as free of judgment as possible.

“Do I?” Jack asks, sounding unimpressed.

Honey shrugs. “You– I mean. Jack, you asked. You opened the door for us because you knew it would annoy Trevor, probably because you knew it would bother him that you were opening the door for m– us, instead of him. You flirt and smile when Bea sits next to you but you lean back and manspread when she gets up like you don’t want us to notice that you’re sitting without a girl at your side. You call your little brother a “fucker” and retaliate because you can, honestly escalating the situation from a flick to a punch to the dick. You act annoyed because your older brother is beating you at pool already this summer and it only just started, plus he took the girl from your side. It’s, uh… yeah. You like attention.”

Everyone but Jack starts to laugh.

“Stand up,” Cole says to Honey.

She does, her arms resting by her side awkwardly, her fingers twitching as she waits for him to do something.

Cole looks around the room and swears under his breath. “I didn’t think this through, one second,” he mutters, and disappears upstairs.

Honey continues to stand there. She pats her hands against her thighs and looks around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but especially not Bea. If she makes eye contact with Bea, she’s going to burst out laughing.

Trevor is still snickering, hiding his face in his shirt. Honey can still see the little crinkles by his eyes.

“She clocked you, man,” Quinn says with a shrug before pulling out a pool stick and standing it next to Bea. It comes up to the tip of her shoulder, Quinn’s chest. He nods in satisfaction and hands the stick over. Honey lets out a relieved breath of air at his approval, and then stifles a second when she watches Bea’s fingers brush over Quinn’s on the stick, her eyes lingering on his for just a second too long.

It’s too easy for her.

Cole comes bounding down the stairs with a plastic soccer trophy in his hand. “Found this when I was snooping,” he says, approaching Honey and holding it out. He stands directly in front of her, makes eye contact with her, and stares into her eyes. “Thank you,” he says with a sincere nod. “For taking Jack down a peg. He needed that. We all needed that.”

And he hands the trophy off to Honey with a handshake, like she’s graduating from high school and he’s the principal handing her a diploma. He takes the handshake and pulls her into a hug, the trophy crushed awkwardly between them.

When he pulls away, Cole puts both hands on Honey’s arms and stares into her eyes again. “If you’re going to do that again, please don’t do it to me.”

Quinn breaks the rack with a crack of his stick, standing at a slight angle, and Honey sits back down, cradling her trophy in her hands.

Cole engages Honey in conversation for a few minutes, with Luke jumping in here and there. Jack turns on the TV and pouts. As much as she tries not to notice it, Trevor just stays quiet and sips his beer and sneaks glances at Honey out of the corner of his eye.

Eventually, the conversation dies out and the group turns their attention to the television, which is streaming some hockey game that Honey doesn’t have an interest in. The boys are chitchatting away, throwing out names and positions and yelling at the TV when a call doesn’t go their way– Honey can’t tell who’s cheering for what team, but she can also tell that Jack and Luke don’t like the team in white… at all. Trevor seems to prefer them over the team in red. Cole doesn’t seem to care. He’s just laughing, still, at Jack. Jack just sulks, but he seems to cheer up once the team in red scores, late in the first period.

“You all really like hockey, huh?” Bea asks between turns. Quinn has sunken a ball almost every turn, but Bea has only sunken one. Honey grins at her, then glances at the pool table and back to Bea. Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey, playful and easy. If Quinn’s the kind of guy that Honey thinks he is, it’s only a matter of time before he starts teaching Bea some tricks to tighten up the game.

Cole laughs. “Yeah, I mean, I’d hope so.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, batting her eyelashes innocently, like she didn’t read all of Trevor’s Wikipedia page before coming here.

“We play,” Luke says with a shrug.

Honey and Bea lock eyes and Honey plays along with her game. She tilts her head and blinks, as if this is the first time she’s hearing it. “Are you any good?”

Quinn snorts and shakes his head as Bea leans over to line up a shot and Honey notices his hand on her waist when he points at a different ball, explaining that that would be the better shot for her. Bea sinks the recommended ball and jumps up with a cheer, smiling brightly at Quinn and standing just a little closer than she would if she wanted to be just friends.

“We’re alright,” Trevor says, the first words he’s said to Honey since she walked through the door. He stands. “Does anyone want another beer?”

The boys’ voices ring out in a chorus of yesses, whereas Honey stays mostly quiet. Bea agrees to another drink as well, which is when Trevor turns to Honey. “You’re sure you don’t want another drink? I’m already getting them for everyone.”

“I’m sure, but thank you,” Honey says.

“Why don’t you go and help him carry the drinks,” Bea suggests from her post next to Quinn.

Honey glares at her, but stands. She leaves her trophy on her seat, saving it. “Fine,” she replies, hoping the edge in her voice is only detectable to her best friend. She follows Trevor up the stairs to the kitchen, like an antisocial cat who has FOMO, but only when it comes to their owner. She crinkles her nose in disgust when she realizes that that’s how she looks, not that Trevor would notice or care. Actually, he would probably be elated if she compared herself to a cat following him around.

Trevor opens the fridge and sifts around, the bottles of beer clinking. The beer takes up most of the bottom shelf, unsurprisingly.

“Do you think you have enough?” Honey asks, unable to help herself when Trevor passes her a third bottle, each a different brand of beer, to carry.

“Q and J like Michelob, Luke is a Miller guy, Coley likes Budweiser, and I’m more of a Modelo drinker.” Trevor’s head is buried in the back of the fridge, rifling through a pack of Millers that seem to be running low. “We’ve had to go to the store three times since that first day because we keep running out of the one beer that someone wants.”

He retreats from the refrigerator and turns to Honey. He’s got two beers in his hand. He holds them up and asks, “Which one do you think Bea wants?”

Honey weighs her choices, but ultimately chooses the Michelob. Bea will use it as a jumping point for her conversation with Quinn– it’s a no-brainer. As annoying as Bea’s boy-craziness is, Honey is always going to be her wingwoman and helper when she can.

“Cool,” Trevor says and returns the other beer to the shelf. He turns back to Honey and takes two of the beers she was carrying, leaving her with just two, the Budweiser and the Modelo.

“I thought you were a Modelo drinker,” Honey says.

“I am,” Trevor replies, heading towards the stairs.

Honey follows. “Then why am I holding your beer?”

“Because I want you to hand it to me.”

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

When they return downstairs, they distribute the beer. Honey hands Cole his Budweiser and waits for Trevor to finish handing out the beers to the Hughes brothers and her friend. Bea has finally managed to get Quinn to do the work for her, with him leaning behind her and guiding her arms over the cue, pointing out where she should be looking and where to hit the ball. There are no other balls on the table except the 8 ball, which makes Honey chuckle. There’s no way Bea sunk all of hers– Quinn had to have “mistakenly” knocked a few in for her.

Trevor returns to the sitting area and Honey stands, offering him the Modelo in her hand. On purpose, she realizes, Trevor closes his hand over her own to take the beer from her and thanks her with a smile, his eyes far too kind to be harmless and friendly.

Honey shakes her head with a look, then frowns when Trevor plops his happy ass right down on the other side of her loveseat. She shakes her head again and chooses to watch the end of the pool game, sitting on one of the stool-saddles near the table. She claps when Bea finally sinks the 8 ball after her third whiff. The ball only sinks because Quinn leaned over Bea again and did it for her, working together to finish the game.

“I win!” Bea squeals in delight, jumping in celebration in front of Quinn.

He lets out a little chuckle, the most awkwardly and quietly endearing laugh that Honey has ever heard. “You won,” he agrees. “With my help.”

Bea tilts her chin up and smiles at Quinn, proud of herself. “So we both win,” she says. “That means we both get whatever we want.”

Honey bites her tongue and ducks her head, waiting for what’s coming next. She wants to turn around and look out the window, even though you can’t see anything in the dark mountainside now that the sun has set. The thing is, she also wants to see the boys’ reactions to what Bea is going to say next.

Quinn smiles, a little tiny smile. His focus is only on Bea, who has inched her way closer to him somehow. There’s not much more room between them. “Whatever you want,” he repeats. “What do you want, Bea?”

Honey watches Quinn’s face, but she’s torn. She also wants to watch Jack.

“You know that tour Cole took us on when Honey and I first got here?” Bea asks, reaching out and smoothing out the turned-up fabric of Quinn’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” Quinn replies, a little confused.

Bea rests her hand on his arm, slowly making her way down so she can wrap her hand around his fingers. She watches herself do it, then looks up at Quinn through her lashes. “I don’t think I saw your bedroom,” she says. “Would you care to show me?”

Quinn’s lips part in surprise and Honey watches his eyes search Bea’s own for… insincerity, maybe?

At the same time, Jack chokes on a sip of his beer. Honey’s eyes fly to him and Cole pats his back as Jack coughs it out.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack says, clapping his hand against his chest and coughing one last time.

Bea smiles at him, oozing confidence and a little showmanship, as Quinn leads her to the stairs. He lets her climb them first and Honey giggles when Quinn sneaks a glance at Bea’s ass and visibly relaxes before hurrying to catch up with her and get his hands on her hips. Bea’s twinkling laughter grows softer and softer as she bounds up the stairs, her footfalls growing heavier as Quinn closes in on her.

“Well shit, Jack,” Cole says. “I guess you’re not the first to fall into bed with a girl this summer. The streak is finally over.”

“You don’t know that,” Jack says, pushing Cole’s hand off of his shoulder. He turns to face Honey, looking hopeful and a little desperate. “Wanna help me keep my streak up?”

A loud honking laugh escapes Honey. “Absolutely fucking not,” she replies, still laughing. She shakes her head at Jack, then notices the small, but mightily proud smile on Trevor’s lips.

Choosing not to focus on that smile, a smile that she’s inadvertently becoming very fond of because she’s never seen him smile at his friends the way Trevor is smiling at her, Honey hops up from her stool and starts to gather the balls from the pockets of the table. She racks them, then grabs her cue and waves Trevor over. “I believe we had a game to play.”

“You had a game to lose,” Trevor corrects, standing and approaching Honey. He grabs his own stick, the one Quinn abandoned on the edge of the table when Bea proposed her bedroom shenanigans.

“Hmm,” Honey voices, raising her eyebrows and exaggerating a grimace. “Consider me scared. Your break, Trevor.”

“When I win,” Trevor says. “I want to buy you dinner.” He lines up the cue ball and shoots, the colorful triangle of balls destroyed in a single swoop. One of the solids finds its way into a pocket and Trevor smirks.

“What a boring prize,” Honey muses. “But if you insist on those terms, then I agree.” She sticks out her hand to shake his. “And when I win…”

She leans down and eyes a line of three balls. The striped nine is farthest from the hole, but Honey wants to prove a point, so she angles her stick down at a steep slope and pushes– noticing Trevor’s mouth flattening into a line when her ball jumps over the other two and tips into the hole. She stands back up to her full height, tilting her head to the side. She cocks her hip and positions her hand against it, holding the cue up on her other side.

“I’m really going to enjoy your Zulu Run, Trevor.”

Cole whistles lowly from the couch. “I need to find you another trophy, girl.”

Honey shoots him a wink.

They play on. Trevor takes it easy– plays the safe route. With each easy fall into the pocket, he fistpumps to celebrate. Honey can only imagine how insufferable he is at the bowling alley.

She shows him up, not even daring to let him pull ahead in their race and convince himself that he has a chance. She sinks the final black ball into the right-center pocket, bending herself all the way over the table to give him a good view of the girl who’s beating him. Her hips are high on the other side of the table, balancing up on her tip toes, facing the seating area. She doesn’t even look at the ball when she hits it, no, she’s looking up at Trevor with a tilted smile and mocking, bragging eyes.

His eyes evaluate her– eyes, to lips, to chest, to ass. To the boys, making sure they aren’t looking, aren’t gawking at the round globes of Honey’s ass that are presented before them. Back to her ass. Her ass.

Honey stands, slowly, making sure Trevor memorizes the curve of her waist when she does. Her eyes drop to his pants, a smirk growing in time with his bulge, and she rests her hands on the edge of the table. She pulls her shoulders back, broadening her chest.

It’s just a dominant stance. All Honey enjoys about this is the fact that his resolve and dignity crumble at the mere sight of a pretty girl bent before him. She likes knowing that he’s weak for her, but that she’ll never do anything about it.

She’s not looking for that.

“A Zulu Run,” Honey explains, clearing her throat to rid her voice of its sultry tinges. She shakes her hair back, over her shoulders. Trevor’s eyes darken at the sight of her throat. She smiles, but continues. “Is when you have to strip, sing a song, and streak around the house until the song is over.” She throws a glance over her shoulder at the other boys. “Usually your friends get to pick your song.”

Jack perks up at that. Honey turns and hops up on the ledge of the pool table, knowing that Trevor’s eyes have fallen to her behind. Jack looks at Honey with delight in his eyes, seeming to forgive her in an instant for psychoanalyzing him earlier in the night. His eyes slide to Trevor and the look in them seems more akin to yearning for vengeance.

“So, boys,” Honey drawls. “What’ll it be?”

They scramble over each other to reach her, shouting song suggestions as they fly into their head. Honey can’t hear anything they’re saying, so she laughs until they fall silent. Cole’s hand presses into the side of her thigh, she looks down at it in disgust, then back up at him. It falls to the edge of the table, noticeable space between her and the appendage.

“How about this,” Honey decides. She sneaks a glance at Trevor, gloating as she lets her eyes roam all over his body. She takes in his arms, his thighs under his shorts, the way his shirt falls over his shoulders. “Trevor looks pretty fit. Why don’t we all pick a song?” She winks at him. “Make him run for, oh, eleven minutes or so?”

A flicker of recognition passes through Trevor’s gaze, but it’s quickly replaced by disbelief. He doesn’t know how she would know– weren’t they subtle about it? She lets out a breath of a laugh at the look– no, Trevor, you weren’t subtle, she thinks. but it’s cute that you think you are.

She realizes what she was thinking in a split second and shakes herself out of it, snapping her face forward and crossing her legs knee-over-knee.

“But only his friends get to pick, so I guess I’m out.” Honey hops down from her perch and breaks through the boys, settling herself on the loveseat with her trophy, laying out to take up as much space as she could. She picks up the remote from the table and places her other hand behind her head, navigating to the Roku menu screen. “Do we have Spotify on this thing?”

Luke, Jack, and Cole each pick a song and Cole helps Honey connect to the outdoor speakers. He re-presents her with her trophy with a flourish and a bow, playful and lame. The boys push Trevor out to the patio with a whoop, pulling at his clothes even as Trevor fights them.

Honey follows at a distance and watches through the glass door. She looks away when Trevor sheds his underwear and waits for Luke’s countdown to end before looking back up. She doesn’t want to see it. That’s just too far. She gets an eyeful of his ass as he rounds the corner of the house, though.

As Trevor starts his third song, Cole’s cheesy Taylor Swift pick (“You can’t outrun my music now, bitch!”), Jack joins Honey at the door.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Honey tells him, rubbing over the skin on her arms.

Jack nods at her, shrugging easily. “I’ll walk you out.”

Honey leads him up the stairs, hearing Trevor’s whoops grow louder as he finishes the second verse of the song. She knows he catches them walking up the stairs because his singing falters for a moment. His steps speed up. So do Honey’s.

She walks briskly to the front door, bordering on a speedwalk, with Jack behind her. She swings her keys over her finger and wrenches the front door open. Jack catches it before it hits the wall.

“What about Bea?” He asks, calling after Honey and making her pause.

“She’ll find her way home,” Honey replies and steps off again. She has to get out of here before Trevor races up the stairs to stop her from being alone with Jack and she gets an eyeful of his– junk.

“Honey!” Jack calls again.

She lurches to a stop and cringes, turning to face the boy.

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to flirt with you anymore."

Honey takes a breath, walking back and reaching up to pat Jack's cheek, just forceful enough that it'll sting for a moment after she walks away. It's not quite a hit, but it's definitely not a love tap. "That doesn't hold the power that you think it does," she tells him with a nod and a close-lipped smile. She goes to leave, but Jack stops her by grabbing her hand.

"Trevor likes you, you know. He was quiet tonight, but he likes you. He's reading that book you gave him and everything," Jack says in earnest, his blues boring into Honey's own eyes.

Honey picks up on the unsaid words. He's trying, take it easy on him, he might be annoying but he's good, and he likes you. You should like him too, and all of that.

The edges of Honey's smile soften and she gently pulls her hand from Jack's. "It's nice to know he can read," she replies, deflecting. Whatever Trevor feels for her, not that he can really feel anything because he doesn't know her like that, doesn't matter. She's not looking for that right now. "Thanks for hosting us, Jack. I'm sorry for what I... said."

"It's okay." Jack shrugs. "Thanks for coming."

"Goodnight," Honey bids him, and starts to walk away.

"Come back," Jack says, and Honey whips around and finds him looking like the words surprised him when he heard himself speak. He clears his throat. "Friday. Um, it's— it's National Chocolate Ice Cream Day and National Donut Day." He scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Really... important holiday."

Honey can't do anything but laugh. "I'll bring the donuts."

She walks to her car and ignores the chirping of bullfrogs echoing in her ears as she drives down the mountain to her home, alone.

7:90 – TREVOR

Jack glares at Trevor when he walks down to the kitchen early the next morning. As Trevor rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn, Jack shifts under the frozen pack of peas that rests precariously on his shoulderblades. Trevor had barely touched him last night, he was just being dramatic. So he had a bit of soreness on his back from where Trevor pushed him against the wall and asked him what the hell he was doing, who cares? He went upstairs with Trevor’s girl. Alone.

“Bea’s taking you to church with her this morning for laying a finger on me,” Jack growls out when Trevor looks at him and laughs.

“No shit,” Trevor replies, snorting.

“It’s true,” comes the female voice from the couch. Bea leans forward, her tube top skewed and tilted enough to draw a wandering eye. Trevor rolls his. “You shouldn’t get violent, not on my watch.”

“You weren’t even with me last night, Bea,” Trevor says sweetly, tilting his head down to dismiss her. “You didn’t see me do shit. How can you prove it was me and not Luke?”

“Luke put a video of it on his private story, then showed me,” Bea snickers in the same tone. “So you’re taking me home and helping me choose my best church outfit to hide these hickeys, and then you’ll join me at the service. It’ll be good for your reputation in town.”

“I don’t really care about my reputation in town,” Trevor laughs.

“Honey cares about your reputation in town,” Bea clarifies, a tight, ‘there’s no room for discussion here’ smile on her face. She pointedly looks him up and down. “Little Bear.”

Trevor scowls at her condescending tone and use of the nickname. How dare she flaunt her inner circle-ness to Trevor.

“I was going to go to church anyway,” Trevor boasts. “Vera told me to bring all of the boys.”

“Well, you’re the only one resorting to violence–” Jack begins, seething, before Bea cuts him off.

“No, this is a good idea,” she says, waving her hand to quiet him. “We should all go to church.”

Jack scoffs. “I don’t think we need to go,” he says. “Sounds like you’ve got an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t want the town to think y’all are reclusive party folk who have no interest in the happenings of Litchton,” Bea snaps. “You’d be surprised how quickly the old grannies will turn on you.”

“And you get to walk into church with five guys on your arm,” Jack says, still scowling. This time, his attention is focused on Bea, not the man who physically hurt him the night before.

“Said she wanted five guys, she ain’t talking ‘bout burgers,” Trevor deadpans, a disgusted look thrown Bea’s way.

She’s unperturbed by it, probably from many years of Honey– Honey.– throwing her similar looks. All Bea does is smile and reply, “My pussy already got murdered, Trev. I didn’t need five guys.”

“No way Quinn ‘murdered’ your pussy, Bea,” Jack jumps in, air quotes around the word. “The dude doesn’t fuck.”

Bea laughs. “I assure you, he fucks.”

“Yeah, I fuck,” Quinn agrees, descending the stairs. He veers to the couch first and drops a kiss on Bea’s head in greeting.

“Well, fuck your way to church,” Jack says. “Bea’s making everyone go with her.” Jack looks at Quinn expectantly, maybe waiting for pushback.

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says. “It’s not like there’s anything else for us to do on a Sunday morning in this place. Everything is probably closed.”

“It’s true, everything is closed on Sundays except the grocery store and the gas station,” Bea says with a nod. “And the church, of course.”

Jack scowls and removes his pack of peas from his back. Trevor takes his opportunity to approach the fridge, conveniently behind Jack. “Why can’t we just stay here?”

“Because it’ll be fun,” Trevor replies, trying to exude optimism now that he’s not the only boy being forced to attend church and wash themselves of their sins. He turns and purposefully claps his hand down on Jack’s shoulder, hard. Jack howls in pain. Trevor squeezes just to watch him tense up. “It’s our chance to become one with the community, Jacky.”

Bea smiles, voice dripping with cheerfulness. “Yeah, Jacky, it’ll be good for you. Why don’t you two head upstairs and change?” Her eyes fix on Quinn, whose shirt rides up as he grabs a glass from the upper shelves of the cabinets. “I want to chit-chat with Quinn for a second.”

Trevor and Jack make a face, but scramble towards the stairs. They push and shove each other all the way up– Trevor is particularly satisfied when Jack bumps into the wall and groans– then split off into their respective rooms. Trevor treats it like a race– whoever finishes changing first wins.

Jack is already back downstairs by the time Trevor returns. Cole is there, and Luke, and both of them seem to be dressed for the service too. None of the boys have the best church clothes, but it’s a small town with farmers. Surely not everyone will be in their Sunday best every Sunday. Quinn is noticeably missing, but Bea is standing by the door with a smile on her face. Her lips look a little more red than they did before Trevor went upstairs. He narrows his eyes at her.

“You, and you,” Bea says, pointing at Jack and Trevor. “Come with me. Trevor, grab your car keys. You’re driving.”

“What about Luke and Cole?” Trevor asks, picking up his keys from their spot on the hook next to the door and trailing behind Bea. Jack trails behind Trevor, still grumbling and pretending like his shoulders hurt for dramatic effect. Trevor ought to show him some real pain next time.

The three people climb into the car, Trevor behind the wheel and Bea in the passenger seat. Jack, once again, finds himself relegated to the backseat. He straps himself in and Trevor catches his murderous glare in the rearview mirror.

“Quinn’s going to drive them,” Bea explains. “They’ll meet us at the church.”

“Whipped,” Jack coughs out. He does a terrible job of masking the word.

Trevor rolls his eyes, just like Bea. She opens her mouth to say something, sass him, but thinks better of it.

They drive on in silence, the occasional sigh or grunt from Jack as he shifts in his seat. Trevor glares at him again in the mirror and Jack hits him with a fake smile before looking out the window to watch the trees whip by.

Bea directs them to the main strip of shops, then tells them to take a left onto one of the sidestreets near The Reading Nook. They pull up to a big brick house, separated down the middle by a massive staircase. Bea climbs the stairs and turns to the left again, unlocking and pushing her front door open.

She leads the boys into her living room, which is decorated exactly how Trevor expected it to be. The couch is white with pink pillows and a white shag rug beneath it. Her furniture is odd, thrifted and worn in. None of it matches, although Trevor suspects that her theme was “Barbie girl aesthetic.” It’s messy, and comfortable, and Trevor almost envies how she lives. His apartment in Anaheim is sparse– when you’re on the road so much and as busy with your job as Trevor is, you really only need a place to eat and sleep. His decorations reflect that.

Trevor sprawls out on the couch, leaving Jack standing awkwardly next to the coffee table. Bea disappears down the hall and enters her bedroom, her closet door creaking open.

“Jack, come here, will you?” Bea asks.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he starts down the hallway nonetheless.

Trevor snoops in his absence, Jack’s presence no longer a threat to his comfort. He drags himself off of the couch and stands, advancing towards the shelves of knickknacks on the wall near the television.

Bea has got a number of books on her shelves, overtaking two of the four rows. The other rows are sparse and far more interesting– there are picture frames spread along the rows, six frames that depict Bea’s life and what she loves.

Four of the pictures feature Honey. The other two are groups of people that Trevor assumes are Bea’s family, her extended family on each of her parents’ sides. He can ignore those easily, not caring about about Bea to scan each of her cousins’ faces. The pictures with Honey are a different story.

There’s a picture of the two when they were ten, or eleven, riding their bikes down an asphalt street lined with suburban houses. Bea’s bike is pink with streamers and flowers and a little basket. Honey’s is dark green and sporty, similar to Trevor’s own bicycle from childhood. Honey’s smile is wry, whereas Bea’s is glowing.

The second, from a birthday party. It’s Honey’s birthday and they’re four, from the looks of the lit candle on her cake. Honey’s smile is wide, much wider than the previous image. Her hair is messy and her tongue is stained green, probably from a lollipop or a Jolly Rancher. Her arms are wrapped around Bea’s neck and she’s pulled her friend close, their cheeks pressing together. Bea’s expression is a little different. Only one of her eyes is squeezed shut, the one closer to Honey. Her lips are pursed like a duck and her little fingers are raised in a peace sign.

Trevor chuckles. If his mom had been the one taking the picture, she would’ve said “What a ham” about the girls’ goofiness.

In the next picture, they’re older. They’re sixteen, probably. Bea’s wearing these short jean shorts and a bikini top and Honey wears a matching top under some long, gray sweatpants. She rolled the waistband up and her back is mostly to the camera, Bea lifted off the ground in a swooping hug. Bea’s legs are kicked up behind her like she’s experiencing a really good, Princess Diaries kind of kiss and her face is frozen in laughter. Honey’s is the same. Trevor’s heart clenches at the smile on her face and the way her hair blows out behind her.

Finally, there’s a selfie of the two of them in a handmade frame. It’s from a high angle and Trevor can’t tell if it’s a .5 picture or a regular one. Honey’s eyebrow is raised and she wears an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, goofy enough to tug at Trevor’s smile. Bea’s mouth is open and she has a hand pinching Honey’s chin, while the other is raised to take the picture. Behind them is the Welcome to Litchton sign that Trevor passes each time he goes into town.

Trevor’s eyes glide down to the handmade frame, the written message along the top and bottom borders.

“New Beginnings!” and smaller, in the corner, a more personalized message. Trevor thinks that she wrote the message in a thin Sharpie– it’s too pristine still, after years. “There’s no one I would rather have join me in Litchton than you. Thank you for always being the Bea to my Honey! Honeybea 4ever <3”.

Trevor reaches out and takes the frame in his hand, inspecting it. He turns it over. More script, also in a Sharpie: “2019”, it reads. He replaces the item, making sure it’s back in the exact right spot.

“Bea, hurry up!” Trevor calls, returning to the couch.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” she replies, leading Jack out of her bedroom. She’s clasping a necklace as she walks, then holds out her wrist and a bracelet for Jack to clasp. “We can go now.”

They leave the apartment and climb back into the car, Jack beating Bea out for the passenger seat this time. He’s smug about it too, grinning to himself while he buckles up. Trevor opens the back door for Bea and helps her into the car with a guiding hand in hers. When Jack realizes that he fumbled the chance to look like a gentleman, his face returns to its scowl.

“If you’re not careful, your face will get stuck like that,” Trevor warns when he finally sits behind the wheel again. He shifts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking space.

Bea directs them to the church and Trevor pulls into the parking lot next to Quinn’s car, which is still running. They’ve got about five minutes before the service begins and Bea chastises the three boys for not going inside and reserving seats early.

“There’s only a few instances where the whole town goes out to do something,” Bea complains as they walk inside. “Church is one of them. We’re never going to find a spot for all six of us.”

“No Honey?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He expected her to join them, especially since the ‘whole town’ is here.

Bea casts Trevor a look and snickers into her palm. “You’re sweet, Trevor,” she says and Trevor rolls his eyes at her saccharine tone. “But Honey decided a long time ago that she had enough religion in her life growing up. She and God know where they stand.”

Trevor reaches the door to the church first and holds it open for the group, letting them file in. He’s grateful that they’re in the church now, because all of the other boys are either too respectful of the space and what it represents or too awkward in a silent building to make fun of Trevor for seeking out Honey. Or they don’t want to get on Bea’s bad side and act a fool in church and suffer her wrath.

They file into one of the back pews, Bea sandwiched between Quinn and Luke. Trevor sits on the other side, right at the aisle.

For an hour, he stays quiet and moves and speaks with the congregation. He counts the number of times that Cole tases Jack’s side, sticking his fingers between his ribs to cause him to flinch and make noise in the reverent area. He does this five times throughout the mass before Bea leans forward and threatens to cut his hands off herself.

For an hour, Trevor stares forward and lets his mind wander to Honey, and all the thoughts he has about her. She’s a mystery and she’s quiet like Quinn, but confident in a way that Quinn never achieved. She knows exactly who she is and won’t budge for anyone, won’t change herself or act in any special ways around certain people.

Trevor admires it– he’s spent his whole life performing for people, in a way. Hockey is his life and always has been, but sometimes it’s tiring to realize that all of his friends are people he met on ice. To think that he can be surrounded by his teammates and the fans in any arena and still feel lonely– it’s the kind of thing that leaves Trevor wondering if this career was a good idea.

In another world, he’s playing in a beer league in a town like this, with a girl like Honey on his arm.

The thought leaves him feeling heavy, weighed down. It ruminates in his mind, even after the service is over. It sours his mood completely and Trevor wishes he was back at the house so he could take a shower or something and stop the prickling feelings from taking over his skin.

In the parking lot, the group chats about nothing. Trevor doesn’t listen. Bea introduces the boys to come of the townsfolk and Trevor smiles and shakes the men’s hands, hugs the ladies or send a special look their way. Vera and Earl honk as they drive past the group, Vera blowing a kiss towards Trevor and Cole through the passenger window. Cole catches it and sticks it to his cheek, then sends one back. It makes Vera laugh.

Trevor tunes back into the conversation as the boys discuss plans for the upcoming week– Jack edges away from Trevor before he mentions that he invited Honey over that coming Friday and that Bea should come too.

“Well, you’ll rarely find a Honey without its Bea,” Bea teases. She claps. “Okay. I’ll see you guys then. Quinn, take me home?”

Quinn nods and puts his hand on the small of her back to direct her to the car. Bea pauses and waves Trevor over, shooing the other boys away. Quinn stays, his hand still on Bea’s body.

“There’s a fruit stand outside the grocery store on Mondays,” Bea says.

“I know, I’ve been,” Trevor interrupts.

Bea quiets him with a click of her tongue. She chooses her words carefully, her eyes hard. “Go tomorrow at, like, six,” she suggests, a faux-nonchalant shrug lifting her shoulders. “You might find something that you like there. I recommend buying the strawberries. They make a lovely gift, Trevor.”

Trevor frowns, confused. “I don’t like strawberries,” he replies.

Bea closes her eyes and processes his words for a moment, a tight smile on her lips. “They make a lovely gift, Trevor,” she repeats.

“Sick,” Trevor says, his voice hard. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “I’m not buying strawberries for you, Bea. I don’t know you enough to give you gifts.”

Bea stomps her foot. “Good fucking God, Trevor. Quinn, can you explain this shit to him?” She asks, then walks off to the car. She takes Quinn’s keys from his hand and gets behind the driver’s seat herself.

Quinn watches her walk away, then turns to Trevor. “She’s telling you that you’ll run into Honey, you fucking idiot, and that you should buy her strawberries.”

He leaves Trevor standing there, eyes wide.

Yeah, he’s definitely heading to the fruit stand tomorrow and buying strawberries.

He concocts his plan on the drive home, silent compared to the other three boys, that are laughing and flopping around the backseat with every turn in a game of Jell-O. They’re not wearing their seatbelts. When they get too loud, Trevor envisions ejecting them from the backseat, leaving them sailing down the mountain, falling through the air.

He holes himself up in his room to nap when they get home, too excited to see Honey to let the time pass organically. It’s like time travel, this way. Trevor will wake up and be two hours closer to seeing her, to getting another chance to win her over. This time, with a gift.

In the afternoon, he laces up his blades and skates with the boys. Quinn has come back by now, not spending much time at Bea’s apartment after church, according to Luke. They all skate and shoot for a couple of hours, playing a game of pickup with an extra player to sub in and out. When that ends, they run some drills. Luke and Quinn play defense, like always, with Trevor, Cole, and Jack recreating their legendary line from USNTDP. It works out perfectly, and each boy pushes himself like they’re playing a real game. It’s the brotherly competition that fuels them– and when the drills start to fall into disarray from hits and other penalties that would certainly be called out in a game, they head off to shower.

The night ends slowly, fizzling out compared to the way it ended the night before. The boys lounge in the game room, sprawling out on the couches and snacking and sipping their beer. Trevor isn’t made to perform another Zulu Run, no one picks up a pool cue, and they watch shitty TV movies on the Spanish channel instead of English. They make up the dialogue as they go and Trevor is the first to go to sleep. He makes it to midnight, but then he forces himself to go to bed.

He’s got a big day ahead of him… after 5 p.m., anyway.

–end–of–chapter–one–

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #cole caufield #hockey smut #hockey romance

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/writingquestionsanswered/730814386289131520/defining-terminology-via-pov?source=share

I saw this post and it inspired me to ask a similar question I was dealing with. Is it weird for the narrator to explain time skips or off screen events? They always feel so unnatural when I write them. Ive seen it done, but I can't judge the best way to do it.

Narrator Explaining Time Skips and Off-Screen Events

Nope, it's not weird, no matter who your narrator is. Your narrator is there to tell the story to your reader. If there is no way to show something through action or explain it through dialogue, the only other alternative is to have the narrator explain it.

With time skips, that's almost always going to be the narrator's job rather than something shown via action or told via dialogue, simply because action isn't often the best way to show time passing (though it can certainly work in some cases), and dialogue doesn't usually come right at the beginning of a scene (though it can sometimes.) The point being, although you certainly can show time passing with action or explain it through dialogue, a lot of the time it's just explained in exposition, aka narration. I talk about that in these posts: Guide: How to Skip Time in Your Story, Subtle Scene Transitions, and Skipping Broad Gaps in Time without Timestamp.

With off-screen events, you really have your pick between exposition, action (yes... action... I'll get to that in a second), and dialogue. It just depends on what works best for the scene/story. So, for example, let's say a secondary character had to run an errand for the protagonist, and what they find out from that errand is important, but showing the actual errand playing out isn't important. So, it happens off-screen. You can have the narrator explain it:

While Todd and Amy started pulling down the interior walls, Anna went to city hall to find out next steps for permitting. After waiting all afternoon to speak with someone and being told to come back the following day, she returned to the house feeling defeated but bearing mochas from their favorite coffee shop.

Alternatively, you could use dialogue to show this off-screen moment:

"How did it go?" Todd said, dropping his sledgehammer when he turned and found a defeated-looking Anna, who at least came bearing coffee.

"Not great," she said, handing him and Amy a mocha from their favorite coffee shop. "I was at city hall all day waiting to talk to someone in permitting, and after I finally got to speak with someone, they told me to come back tomorrow."

Amy frowned. "Yikes."

If the off-screen event happened before the story begins, or happened off-screen but was particularly important or memorable for the character who experienced it, you could also potentially use deep memory recall, a flashback, or a dream to show it happening. This wouldn't really be a great choice for Amy's long wait at the permitting office, but for the sake of the example, if it was worthy, it might look something like this.

Amy woke with a start, drenched in sweat, her nightmare addled brain telling her she was still inside the permitting office. The nightmare had been so real, she could still smell the stale coffee that permeated the small room--could still hear the quiet sizzle of the mildly flickering fluorescent lighting. She'd been suck waiting to speak with someone all afternoon, and they'd told her to come back tomorrow. Now she felt like she'd been through the ordeal twice in one day. She wasn't sure she could stomach going back again in the morning. She would have to make Todd go in her place.

I hope that helps! :)

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 1 year ago

Text

~ Reminder of Reality | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, fluff, angst, talks of pregnancy, talks of sex, food, OC eats meat, Jungkook is a sweetheart, beware of the in-laws!, idiots in love, guys we have some progress! (let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Sentiment sneaked into the large cracks in your marriage with Jungkook. Emotions revealed another side of him as well as an intimate point of view about yourself. The waters of your relationship are getting deep with both affection and obstacles between you two. Brought back from his dreams to reality, Jungkook must make a decision to change his fate, that is if he wants to keep you by his side forever.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N Let me know your thoughts in the comments, guys! This is a longer part than chapter 1, I really hope you will like it and remember that drabbles are open for this universe! My inbox is open so please send me some asks while I write the next part!

Please take care and thanks for giving this story a chance, happy reading everyone!💜

It's been two days since Jungkook recognised the feelings that have been residing in his heart for some time now. Since that talk he had with Jimin.

A text from his mother made his stomach churn with nerves, not because of what was written in it but because of the meaning of the words she texted him.

Jungkook stood in front of one of the large windows in his office, phone in hand while he pondered how to approach you about the matter of his mother's text. He planned conversation after conversation in his head only to discard it in the end.

His mental scripts were only making him more anxious than he already was with the fact that he had to call you during his work hours.

Anyone who could be in his shoes at that moment would have made the call an hour ago but this wasn't anyone. It was about you and Jungkook and the complicated yet still easy relationship between you two.

It wasn't of hate but it wasn't of love either. The word of marriage didn't resonate as sweetly as it should have been but he couldn't say it was a bitter experience. It was just unknown territory for the both of you.

Jungkook took a deep breath, pressing your contact in his phone as he pressed the device up to his ear. It rang and rang, with each tone as his call went unanswered, the more nervous he felt.

Not because of making the call, but because of who he was calling. It was you. The woman who carried the title of his wife, you with whom he had been living for nearly a year now, you whom he liked in a way that was supposed to be normal between husband and wife yet it didn't exist between you and Jungkook.

So he waited. Waited until you answered his call, eyes fixed on the city that looked so small from where he stood. Heart raising with anticipation of hearing your voice while his stomach churned with the nerves of messing up somehow.

You were pouring yourself some hot water on your favourite cup to make some tea to enjoy in the chilly flat. You had just finished writing yet another chapter of your book and now came the revision you gave it before sending it to your editor.

It was tiring to do so, but you also rejoice in the fact that you allowed your ideas to rest for a bit while also seeking the opportunity to improve your writing.

Just as you finished making your tea, you heard your phone vibrating in the quiet flat from the living room. With a sigh you put the cup down on the counter as your legs carried you back to the living room. Your hand reached for your phone and you felt how your heart skipped a beat when you read it was Jungkook calling you.

Without wasting another second, you picked up his call, your phone was pressed to your ear as you spoke.

"Hello?"

Your husband had to suppress the small sigh that left his lips in content upon hearing your voice.

"Hi, (y/n). I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

You smiled, eyes glancing back at the kitchen where your cup of tea rested before you answered.

"No, I was just making myself some tea. Do you need something?"

You heard him let out a deep breath from the other line as you walked toward the glass windows, the curtains were pulled at the sides and you were greeted with the beautiful view of Seoul from the tall building where your shared apartment rested in the quietness of the lonely sky.

"Yes, actually. I wish I could ask you this in a different way, though. But my mother texted me and asked if we both could join her and my dad tonight for dinner. I'm calling to see if you don't have any plans for later today."

How considerate. Was the first thought that crossed your mind after hearing his words. Jungkook had never forced you to do absolutely anything you didn't feel comfortable with nor did he ever put you in conflicting situations.

However, when you agreed to become his wife, there were other roles you also had to fulfil. One of them being a daughter-in-law.

You suppressed a sigh before responding in a neutral yet soft voice.

"I'm free tonight, actually. Should I wear something specific?"

Jungkook could sense the subtle tension behind your words, it wasn't easy for you to meet his parents and he knew it but there were things he couldn't help but get over with. The four of you haven't met formally for awhile and he knew such a meeting couldn't be postponed any longer.

"Thanks (y/n). I'll pick you up at 5:00 and wear something formal, please. You know how my parents are."

"Of course. Text me if there are any changes of plans."

He nodded, big doe eyes fixed on the city beyond him. Not knowing you were also looking at the enchanting view from your apartment.

"Sure. See you at five, then."

"Goodbye, Jungkook."

And with that, the both of you hung up at the same time. He pocketed his phone, heart racing with the echo of your voice invading his thoughts.

He knew you weren't too keen on these types of family gatherings yet you had agreed to go. Despite the raw circumstances in which your marriage with Jungkook bloomed. He knew marrying you was only a play in the big inheritance he was going to receive eventually.

Marriage was a business. That was what he was taught since early years but now, he hoped he could make the relationship between you and him something more than the cold signature and the expensive rings that bonded you as his wife.

Your phone was still in your hand, your arm resting by your side as the conversation you just had with Jungkook replayed in your mind over and over. His sweet tone, the soft words. It made your heart flutter with feelings you had been denying for a while now.

Yet there was a part of the conversation, a sentence he spoke to you that just wouldn't leave your mind. Getting engraved not only in your memories but, unknowingly, in your heart as well.

"I wish I could ask you this in a different way, though."

Ask me what? You thought to yourself, your left hand came to your neck as your fingers massaged the tender skin there as the sunlight reflected on the silver wedding band on your ring finger.

You didn't exactly know the meaning of those words. He sounded disappointed when he had expressed such a wish to you yet you couldn't determine the reason behind such a feeling.

Or maybe you knew it already, but your mind refused to accept it. A fact as tangible as the ring that screamed to the world you were taken but at the same it was a fleeting thought, a simple assumption over your own desires. Your own fantasies.

What did you mean by that, Kook?

The sun was about to set in the horizon. The sky was getting painted in different orange shades as the blue in it began to darken and melt with the rest of the colours, creating a beautiful view over the city.

Yet Jungkook was on his way to see another kind of beauty. His wife, you who were waiting for him to pick you up from the flat. He couldn't stop thinking about you since that phone call he had with you earlier today.

He imagined your smile when you would see him and how beautiful you would look dressed in one of the expensive dresses stored in your closet he bought for you.

His left hand was curled around the steering wheel of his car, wanting to stop somewhere before going back home to you, hoping that you would like his little surprise.

While exiting the building, Jimin gave him a knowing look, one that made the younger man roll his eyes at the teasing of his friend. But now, those feelings of excitement were replaced with soft longing in his heart to see you, not being able to deny the happiness that blossomed in his soul every time he got to see you or hear your voice.

You were spraying your favourite perfume over your neck and wrists when you heard your husband enter the flat, the door locking itself behind him. You couldn't help but smile at the mere thought of him, your feet carried you out of your shared bedroom, over the hallway and into the living room where you could see the entrance way.

Your eyes locked on his figure. A fluttering in his stomach tainted his cheeks a soft shade of pink when Jungkook's eyes rested over you. He took you in, your figure cladded in a beautiful and elegant black dress with a squared neckline and slightly puffed long sleeves. Your hair was styled beautifully with a simple headband also in black.

"You're home."

Your words reached him like a soft summer breeze, peaceful and delicate. He smiled, taking off his shoes with ease before walking to where you stood, his hands behind his back.

"I told you I'll pick you up at 5:00."

Jungkook stated, your eyes glanced quickly at the clock hanging on the wall only to notice it was five o'clock sharp. Just like he had said.

"You look beautiful, by the way."

A smile was painted over your lips at his compliment as your cheeks were dusted in pink. You had to glance down or you knew your face would be as red as a tomato if you were to look into his eyes at that precise moment.

"Thanks. I hope you like the dress."

Unknowingly to you, he smiled. Jungkook felt how his heart constricted with the rising tension in the living room. It wasn't a bad tension, nor in a sexual way. There was tension between two people who liked each other but were too afraid of saying anything. Chemistry, it's how he'd describe it.

"You are always beautiful, (y/n). It doesn't matter what you are wearing at all, you are and will always be the most beautiful woman in my eyes."

You couldn't help but snap your eyes up to gaze into his own. You drowned in his dark pools filled with emotions you didn't understand, unsaid words you weren't quick enough to catch.

Jungkook took a deep breath, as if he had resurfaced from being underwater. As if a bubble had popped and he was able to breathe once more. Perhaps he had been trapped in a bubble of perfection in which only you and him existed.

But he was back in the real world quicker than he would have liked.

"I... we should get going."

You cleared your throat, snapping out of your thoughts as you offered him a soft smile.

"Of course, let me just grab my purse."

And with that, you were back into your shared bedroom, leaving your husband standing alone in the middle of the living room. Your heart was hammering like crazy inside you as you gazed at your own reflection through the mirror, purse in hand while you prepared yourself to face Jungkook once more.

Your husband ran a hand over his face, trying to cool himself down and to stabilise his heartbeat. The motions reminded him of the thing he was hiding behind his back all this time. His eyes fixed on the marine blue velvety box he held in his left hand decorated with a small and elegant silver bow.

It was a small gift he wanted to give you, the reason why he left the company half an hour earlier than what he had originally planned. Only to buy you that. Why? He didn't know it yet. He only felt like giving you something.

"I'm ready, let's go."

Your voice made him turn around, hiding the present behind him once more. Jungkook could say he nearly jumped at your words, having not heard you walk down the hallway.

"Wait, (y/n)."

Blinking at him, you waited. Expecting his next words. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly with the motion.

"I-I have something for you."

You arched an eyebrow in curiosity and he sensed that as his cue to take a couple of steps towards you until he stood at arms length and handed you the box. Presenting it to you in an almost shy way that had you smiling softly.

"What's this?"

He watched as your fingers took the box, your fingers brushing his own with the action as your touch sent sparks of electricity throughout his body that he had to suppress a shiver.

You gasped when you opened the lid, your (e/c) eyes scanning over the beautiful necklace that lay over a thin layer of black velvet. The piece of jewellery was crafted in white gold, three chains followed the lock, each one a bit longer than the last one with a ruby tear at the end creating a beautiful design.

"Do you like it?"

Jungkook asked. Your expression told him nothing and he was growing anxious over what your reaction to his gift would be. Yet no words could escape you as you were mesmerised by the necklace itself.

"How... Why, Jungkook?"

You asked in a small voice. Soft like the wind yet carrying the strongest of emotions he wasn't able to grasp.

"I only wanted to give you something. I thought it would suit you."

Your eyes lifted from his gift and locked with his own dark yet wide orbs. You smiled, easing the worry craving in his chest.

"It's really beautiful, thank you. I wish I could give you something too."

Jungkook shook his head, a smile of his own appearing over his handsome features, that smile you loved so much.

"I'm glad you like it. You don't have to give me anything, (y/n). Your mere presence is enough."

You bit your lower lip, trying to suppress the big grin that threatened to break over your red lips.

"Will you help me put it on?"

His heart fluttered at your request. So innocent yet it broke havoc inside him. With a raging storm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, his heart skipped a beat as his fingers grabbed the necklace from the box.

You turned around, putting your hair to the side and exposing the back of your neck to him. Jungkook helped you click the necklace as you felt the coolness of the expensive jewel against your hot skin.

The smell of his cologne invaded your senses and the moment between you two lasted too long for your fluttering heart but it ended too soon for your yearning soul.

"There."

You turned around at his announcement, a soft smile graced your lips.

"I really like it, Kook."

Your eyes went wide at the small slip-up. That nickname existed only in your mind for him. Never had you ever thought of calling him that but he didn't seem to mind it as he only flashed you a smile.

"A beautiful jewel for my beautiful wife."

The ride to the restaurant was silent. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was nice. There wasn't tension between you two as you thought there would be due to each of you being stuck in your own heads.

Jungkook couldn't stop thinking about the way you had called him. That nickname was simply a short way of his given name but he couldn't say he despised it, not when it was you who had spoken it.

He couldn't ignore how his heart had skipped a beat at the sound of your referring towards him. He found it endearing; a memory that would stay with him despite the outcome of his own wishes of progression in the tangled mess of emotions he found himself in.

You on the other hand couldn't stop thinking of what Jungkook said to you. His words meant so much to you than he probably realised.

"A beautiful jewel for my beautiful wife."

He had said. He not only had called you beautiful, a compliment you had received throughout your adulthood more times than often, but he had called you his. His wife.

Even when you both were married under a cold arrangement, you weren't going to deny the butterflies that wildly fluttered in your stomach when he called you his. When he thought of you as his. A partner to stand by his side forever, a wife not only by certificate but bonded by different things, bonded not only with a ring but with feelings involved in between.

Could he feel something too?

But before you were allowed to ponder more into those kinds of thoughts, Jungkook parked the car and sent you a soft smile before he exited the vehicle.

You had been so engrossed in your own mind, your thoughts about your husband that the seemingly long ride to the restaurant felt like nothing. Time flew like wind, as if holding water in your hands. That was how you perceived time when Jungkook was in your life, being that physically or only existing in your thoughts.

He walked around the car and opened the door for you, offering you his larger and inked hand out for you to take. You did with a smile on your face, thanking him softly before you two ventured into the restaurant where you would meet his parents once more. The two people who arranged your marriage with Jungkook.

The greetings and fake smiles went by without you paying it much thought. You focused on your mother-in-law when she spoke during the meal while you were cutting a piece of steak for yourself.

"That is a beautiful necklace that you are wearing, (y/n)."

She commented, you felt Jungkook look at you briefly from where he sat next to you. A polite smile plastered once more over your features.

"Thanks, Jungkook gave it to me."

"Mmm, I see."

She answered, taking a sip from her wine as you ate a piece of your own dinner, feeling the soft texture melt in your mouth. The conversation carried itself mostly between Jungkook and his father, talking about the company and future plans.

From what you had learned yourself, Jeon Enterprises was a large company that made sophisticated electronics. Their most popular product was their innovative cell phones, you having one yourself.

You admired the company as it had been passed through generations of Jungkook's ancestors as they had first traded with ink back in ancient history. And you couldn't be more proud of your husband to inherit such an empire.

You sat quietly next to your husband as he explained one of his upcoming plans for the company, you were taking the last sip from your wine before Mrs. Jeon spoke once more in between a pause in the conversation.

"Tell me Jungkook, when are you two both going to have a child?"

Her question made you choke on the alcoholic beverage you were previously enjoying. You put the glass down as you coughed a couple of times.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded at your husband's worry, his big eyes resting over you.

"Yeah, sorry. I wasn't expecting to... you know, talk about this during dinner."

Mr. Jeon rested his cutlery against his plate as he spoke, his eyes dancing between you and Jungkook.

"When else are we going to talk about it, then? You need a child to inherit, Jungkook! That's why we married you off, so the company won't be lost to the actionists."

You felt yourself shrink into your seat, but you weren't going to give them the satisfaction. Did they really arrange your marriage with Jungkook only so that you would get pregnant? What if Jungkook had been so attentive and sweet lately because he wanted to have sex with you?

He needed an heir for him to inherit. He needed a child. He had to become a father but that child wasn't going to be produced by osmosis. He needed to be married, have a stable family so that he could inherit his empire of centuries.

Was that his purpose all along?

"(y/n) and I haven't talked about that, father. It is not only for me to decide."

You looked at your husband with a surprised gaze, your previous thoughts melting like butter in a pan with that statement, you could practically read the sincerity in his words.

"Well, you two better talk it out sooner than later. I want to have grandchildren, Jungkook. And you (y/n), haven't you initiated anything? You should be pregnant by now giving how much time you two have been married. This was the only purpose of your arrangement."

Now that hurts. You didn't know why but it did. Deeply. To be considered a child machine only for their legacy to continue.

"Mum!"

Exclaimed Jungkook, his hand tangling with your own beneath the table but you spoke before the situation could escalate more than it already had.

"I believe that is a private and intimate conversation I must have with my husband in due time, Mrs. Jeon. Please understand that is a matter we must solve as a couple whether we had been arranged or not."

Silence circled the table the four of you were sitting at. Your voice had been calm yet firm at the same time, stating your point without being rude. Call it a polite way of saying " don't butt in " and you hoped it had worked.

Jungkook gave your hand a squeeze under the table, you had forgotten for a bit that your hands were intertwined behind your in-laws' prying eyes.

"If that was all you two wanted to talk about, I hope you are satisfied with (y/n)'s response. We will be taking our leave now, the bill's on me."

Jungkook stood up after those words left his lips, he pulled you up with him and you barely had time to grab your purse with your free hand before he was pulling you with him toward the same way the both of you entered the fine restaurant.

"I'm sorry about what happened back there at the restaurant."

Jungkook spoke, his voice was filled with a heaviness you couldn't quite place.

"It's alright."

You said, not wanting to dwell on that conversation any longer. Your husband turned to look at you, he was sitting in the driver's seat while you were next to him, eyes locked on one of the walls of the parking lot of the apartment building. The drive back home was silent but this time it was tense. Not between you both but due to the predicament you were tangled in as a married couple.

"It is not alright, (y/n)."

You sighed, your right hand began playing with the wedding band around your finger in your other hand. This wasn't a conversation you wanted to have but you also understood. You knew it had to happen, you knew you couldn't evade it forever and you were also aware of the fact that you would end up pregnant, sooner or later.

His eyes locked with your own the moment you turned to look at him, your eyes revealed a thousand emotions hidden in your soul.

"I know, Jungkook. It wasn't alright, none of this tangled mess is. But we are here now, together. Whether we like it or not, we are in this situation together."

His heart clenched at your words. Did you see your marriage with him as a tangled mess? But you didn't allow his mind to ponder on that thought for another second before you were speaking again.

"You need a child to inherit the company, that is a fact we can't deny. It was part of the contract, Jungkook, the conditions. We can't ignore them forever."

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his heart beating rapidly against his chest. This wasn't how he had planned this conversation to go.

"I'm aware of the conditions, I know what I signed myself in when I married you, (y/n). I just don't want you to feel as if I am imposing it over you. It is your decision too. "

You stared into each other's eyes, time flew by slowly as if the Earth had stopped rotating.

"I just... I don't think I'm ready to have a child right now."

Jungkook heard your whispered words. A sentence, a hidden truth that was spoken as if it were forbidden to even think about. He didn't know if he should be sorry for the situation you both were in, nearly forcing you to carry his child or happy upon the fact that you had revealed a bit of your soul, your thoughts, your heart and wishes to him.

Even when it was a mere sentence, when that truth was constructed of only words. A melody made for his mind to sing, he treasured the honesty, the trust.

His hand covered your own, unfisting your fingers from clenching the fabric of your dress. You didn't even know you were doing such a thing as you looked down surprised at your now joined hands.

"I am not forcing you. I will never force you to do anything, you must know that by now."

You nodded and he continued. Your eyes met his gaze once more in the silence of the car. A space so casual to exist yet now was intimate between you and your husband. A box of truths. A keeper of honesty.

"I wish this evening had gone differently. I'm sorry about that but the arrangement only said we should have a child together, it never said when. It will happen when you are ready and if you never find yourself down that path, well then that will be a problem for future us to deal with."

A soft smile appeared over your lips. There weren't enough words in any language to express how grateful you were to your husband for those words. Jungkook mirrored your gesture, giving your hand a soft squeeze before he retrieved his hand from your own, leaving your skin cold, missing his touch.

"Let's go inside, it's already late."

You nodded at him. Feeling your soul lighter for you to carry. Your burden lessened by his words.

Jungkook lied awake in his shared bed with you. You were already sound asleep but the world of dreams hadn't gotten a hold of him yet. He thought of the conversation he had with you in the car. He thought of your words, your reactions, your small gestures. They were all engraved in his mind, replaying it to him over and over and over again like a movie he loved and never got tired of watching.

What had happened at the restaurant, what was spoken in the confinement of his car, what you had said about your situation with him were nothing more than a reminder of reality for him. A reality he was forced to live and now, you were also tangled in a web of arrangements, promises and longing souls.

Reality was a changing truth. And while he lived in a created fate by his family, carrying the name of his ancestors and the prestige of his bloodline, Jungkook also believed reality could be transformed.

It could be shaped with his decisions and reactions. Just like he wished to change the reality he lived with you, to progress in the relationship he was already in, to win your heart and claim you as his own, he also knew his reality as the chairman's son couldn't be moulded.

Today, he was brought back to the real world, away from his beautiful dreams, away from sweet fantasies. He was reminded of his stance, of his reality, of his position, of his duty.

But was Jungkook strong enough to break the chains of a created fate? Was he strong enough to keep you away from the harm those chains would make once broken? Did he even want to break them and be free or would he allow to be the prisoner of his bloodline, of his family forever?

You and Jungkook were bonded by a ring, the two of you lived a harsh reality. Was that reality open to change its course and allow you both to archive the sweet marriage you both desired?

No-one knew the answers to those questions, only you and Jungkook did. But would you be able to face the truths hidden behind a created fate and smokey lies? Would you stay together in the end?

~Masterpost

Sept/08/2023

Drabbles are open for this au! My inbox is open, darlings!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

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pokenimagines · 2 years ago

Note

Nsfw Grusha fic please? Soft and fluffy, with oral and foreplay.

NSFW fic for Grusha, my love? You got it! I am such a simp for the man, I will happily write something soft and fluffy. Apologies though, I have a lot of requests in the inbox so I was able to get to the oral part, but didn't have time to write a full on smut. It is implied at the end, though!

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one! Content Warning: Oral M!Receiving

Rules | Discord Server (16+)

NSFW Grusha: Whip Cream Dreams

It was late and freezing cold as you curled under the covers some more. You were cuddling so close to Grusha as you tried sucking in his body warmth. Your fingers trailing underneath his shirt to help unfreeze them. The man who was subjected to your cold touch shuffled uncomfortably from it.

"You're too cold..." Grusha murmured, still half asleep. He let out a small yawn and you chuckled, trailing your hands down to his hips a bit. Grusha hissed at the cold, wiggling away from you a bit more. You took the opportunity to follow his though, not letting up with your cold touches.

"Gruuuuuusha, give me some warmth." You whispered, keeping quiet, despite you being the only two in the home. Grusha finally opened his eyes halfway, trying to give you a glare that wasn't succeeding.

"If you're so cold, turn the heater up, but don't freeze me with you." He grumbled out. You chuckled, as you shuffled closer to him, until your body was flush with his own.

"That means I have to get out of bed, and it's too cold...you do it." You pouted and Grusha looked at you.

"I was fine until you started touching me." he reminded you. Despite you trying to pout and be cute, he wasn't having it. He didn't want to admit he was cold as well, and getting out of bed seemed like a nightmare.

"Pleeeeeeease?" You tried begging, but he shook his head, "Okay...what if I warmed you up before you got up?" You offered, making Grusha raise an eyebrow.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He aske, making you chuckle. You then slipped underneath the covers, confusing your boyfriend for a moment. That's when he felt your hands trailing over his thighs, one creeping a bit closer to the front of his pants. He groaned as your hand cupped his dick through his pants.

You began working on slipping his sweatpants off his well defined hips; you adored how he went commando most nights. It was so easy for you to play with him like this. Your hand ghosting over his slowly hardening dick; within a few strokes he was already hard and heavy in your hand.

"T-this is your brilliant idea?" He asked, sucking in a deep breath as he felt your lips kissing along the head of his cock.

"Everyone knows your body temperature rises when you cum. So if I make you cum, you'll be warm enough to turn on the heater for me. It's a win-win situation." You teased, your tongue laving at his length, going from top to bottom before placing the head against your lips again.

"Except your hands are still freezing." he pointed out, but he couldn't help how his body reacted to your touches. You chuckled, watching as he lifted the covers so he could get a good look at you.

You put on a show, sticking your tongue out and licking his shaft; you made sure to look him in the eyes as you did so, a small smile forming on your lips.

"They'll warm up, I promise...you taste really good today." You noted before finally taking his dick into your mouth. Grusha let out a drawn out moan at feeling your warm mouth engulfing his cock. His hands went to threat through your hair, helping guide your mouth along his cock. Your tongue lazily swirling around the length, one hand pumping what your mouth couldn't reach.

You moaned at the salty taste in your mouth, making sure to give the slit at the top extra attention every time you bobbed your head. Grusha's breath was coming out in small pants as he looked down at you with half lidded eyes. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth and you knew he was close.

You doubled in your efforts, sucking in your cheeks to give a bit more stimulation. Your tongue pressed along one of the veins on his cock; Grusha gasped as he came down your throat. He let out a few curses under his breath, as you tried lapping up all his cum, taking his cock out of your mouth and licking it clean. His cock twitched again in your hand, and you heard Grusha hiss.

You put one hand on his thigh while licking your lips, wiping a bit of cum that had spilled out the corner of your mouth, "Feel warm now?" You asked Grusha with a smirk. You loved how flushed his cheeks were and he growled, pulling you up until you were settled on his lap.

You then felt his lips against your own in a hungry kiss, his tongue easily slipping between your lips as he overtook the kiss in an instant. You moaned against his lips, your hands finding his shirt and bunching the fabric up.

He rolled his hips up against your own, "How about we forget the heater and I'll just warm you up myself?"

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• Thank you for reading! Did you know we have a discord? It has everything from RPs, General Discussions, and even an 18+ area to go hog wild in! We even do announcements early for when the inbox is opening for requests, as well as other events! Come in and join us!

#Pokemon Scarvio #Pokemon Scarlet #Pokemon Violet #Pokemon Scarlet and Violet #Pokemon Scarlet and Violet x Reader #Pokemon Scarlet x Reader #Pokemon Violet x Reader #Pokemon Scarvio x Reader #Scarlet Salts #Grusha x Reader #Grusha #Pokemon Grusha #Reader x Grusha #Grusha Fic #Grusha Fanfic #Pokemon Grusha x Reader #spicy salt

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slasherfckr · 2 years ago

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😭😭😭 I have no idea what the hell happened to the ask in my inbox. I might have deleted it or something. I'm so sorry about that 😔 Still trying to figure out how Tumblr works tbh. I hope you like this fic though :)

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Bo Sinclair x Fem!Reader - Better than Words

"Hey Bo?" You smiled. The man fiddling around with spare car in the garage didn't bother turning towards you.

"Hm?"

"Did you think we could get Jonesy a friend?"

The mechanic stopped what he was doing and turned towards you.

"What?"

"Get Jonesy a friend. Do you think he ever gets lonely being the only dog in Ambrose? I know he usually spends his time with Vincent or Lester but I know I would be lonely if I were the only person here."

Bo shook his head.

"I don't fucking know (Y/N). Why don't you make yourself useful and hand me the wrench?" He went back to focusing on the car, holding his hand out for the tool he asked for. Without missing a beat, you went over and retrieved the wrench. It was dead silent minus the sounds of Bo working on the car for a few until you couldn't stand it anymore.

"Did you know a baby puffin is called a puffling? And it's parent can hold, like, 10 fish in its mouth at once so it can feed it's baby. But the largest amount a puffin was recorded to have carried was 62 fish at once."

"The fuck you talking about woman?"

You let out a small giggle.

"Just stating some animal facts. It's just soooo quiet. Can't stand it." You complained.

"Then why don't you go check up on Vincent or something? I think I'm done here with the car and-"

Just then the phone rang. Bo grabbed a rag from the table next to him and wiped his hands before going to answer the phone in the other room. There was really only one person it could be. Wasn't long at all before Bo was back with you and the car.

"Was Lester. Said he got some people coming out this way. Better stay here and help me instead. Vinny can wait."

You and Bo went to the main room of the work shop, waiting for the guests to arrive. As Bo sat behind the counter, reading a magazine, you couldn't help but watch as his blue eyes scanned the pages. Sweat from working on the car still beading down his face, making a few brown curls from his hair stick to his temple. You wanted him so bad. You would imagine the two of you together, bodies intertwined in his bed. Or something more tame, such as you and him going out for drinks. The only thing stopping you from confessing to him was the tiny sliver of self-doubt in the back of your mind on if he would actually feel the same about you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement. You turned and there was a man and woman at the door. The man appeared to be in his 50's while the girl appeared to be around your age. Father and daughter perhaps? Either way, you smiled and greeted them as you let them in.

"Hey sorry to bother you guys. Our car broke down and we were looking to buy the parts needed to fix it up so we can get back on the road again?"

"Yeah yeah it's no problem at all. That's what we're here for, ain't it? Here, (Y/N), why don't you go show the man where he can find the parts for his car?"

You smiled at Bo as you grabbed the man's arm and lead him to the back. Except you went further than the back. You took him and led him downstairs of the garage.

"Sorry we had to go down here. Parts are kept downstairs and out of the shop itself so thieves aren't as keen to rob the place, ya know?" You kept the smile on your face as you turned on the light in the room.

"Think I should go back upstairs. Just head on up once you find the parts so we can get you guys back on the road." You waved at the man and left, locking the door behind you so he couldn't escape what was currently on its way to him.

When you got back upstairs, though, your heart sank. You were met with Bo flirting with the daughter. Her back was up against a wall as Bo hovered over her.

"You know, doll? This heat wave we hot here ain't got noth'n on you." The girl laughed and put her hand on Bo's shoulder.

"You think so? Maybe we could go somewhere more.... private so I could show you how hot I can really get? Hm?"

Despite feeling your world crumbling, you managed to hold everything together and hide it all underneath a big smile. You then coughed to get their attention. The girl and Bo split, with the girl looking down at the floor and Bo looking elsewhere but her.

"So did he find everything he needed, (Y/N)?"

"Yep." You said cheerily. "He's just waiting on you now."

Bo nodded and took the girl downstairs with him to finish off the job.

You had left while Bo worked with Vincent to take care of the mess. While they were doing their chores, Lester had come home. He surprised you with fresh ingredients from the next town over. All the stuff to make venison stew. You were delighted as you could now make a stew you had promised the boys you'd make one day. You and Lester quickly got to work on making dinner, joking and messing around while doing so but you couldn't get fully into it. You couldn't help but think back to Bo and that girl. What if he didn't kill her? What if he fucked her and ended up bringing her back here to the house? What would happen to you then? Would Bo even need your help anymore? Your heart sank further than it already was thinking at the possibilities. Lester knew something was up but before he could ask, Bo walked in.

Bo's suit was covered in blood and by the looks of it, it was his own. He immediately took a seat in the living room.

"(Y/N) could you get the goddamn medkit?"

You did as you were told. Bo ended up having a nasty gash on his left arm. Thankfully it wasn't bad enough to need stitches but you were still going to have to apply some disinfectant and bandages, which was going to be fun. Bo never handled getting disinfectant put on well. It was like taking a toddler to the doctor for a shot. You quickly sat next to Bo and pulled some bandages and the disinfectant out of the medkit.

"Gotta hold still now, okay? Don't want a repeat of last time you got hurt. Almost took my hand off" You joked.

"Damn it, (Y/N). How many times do I gotta say I'm sorr-FUCK!" Bo hissed and immediately pulled his arm away from you. "Goddamn that hurt!"

"I haven't even applied the disinfectant yet, Bo." You raised an eyebrow at him.

You pulled his arm back towards you and gently dabbed a cotton ball soaked with the disinfectant on his wound. Bo hissed again but didn't have a huge outburst like the first time.

"See? Wasn't so bad, right?" You smiled up at him from the floor.

"Yeah, whatever..." He grumbled.

"So how did this even happen, Bo?"

"Was noth'n (Y/N)."

"Doesn't seem like nothing considering....this." You gestured to his arm. Bo gave you a look which made you quickly drop the subject. "Here come on and get up. Lester and I just finished dinner. I'll grab you a bowl while Lester brings one down to Vincent."

You fixed up two bowls, one for you and the other for Bo. After a bite, Bo's face lit up.

"Holy sweet Jesus, (Y/N). You weren't kidding when you said you could make some good damm stew."

Hearing him compliment your cooking lifted your spirits up, which brought a huge smile to your face.

"Thank you, Bo."

The rest of the meal was ate in silence. Normally you'd be chatting up a storm with Bo but you haven't had a nice, home cooked meal made with fresh ingredients in so long. You just wanted to savor this moment for as long as possible.

When you both were done, you grabbed his bowl and yours and brought it over to the sink to start dishes.

"It was her."

"What?"

"That woman. In the shop. She did this." Bo gestured to his bandaged arm.

"Oh. Her loss I guess. She had an incredibly handsome guy flirting with her and she decided to attack him. Not what I would have done."

You froze when you felt hot breath come down on the back of your neck.

"Did I hear that right, (Y/N)? 'An incredibly handsome guy?' 'Not what I would have done?' So what would you have done then?" Bo leaned down so his mouth was right at your ear. You were completely frozen in place; couldn't move at all. You felt like a trapped sheep, cornered by the big bad wolf. Your face quickly grew a deep shade of red.

"I-I, uh...I would have..." Your words got caught in your throat. A deep chuckle came from behind you.

"Turn around and face me." You did as you were told. You weren't that much smaller in height than Bo but goddamn did you feel incredibly tiny in that moment. Before you could do or say anything else, you felt Bo's rough lips on yours. You kissed back and soon felt his arms around your waist before he pulled away from the kiss.

"(Y/N) you're not very subtle. I hope you know that. You didn't think I wouldn't notice you staring at me back at the shop? Could see you turning 30 different shades of red then." Bo laughed.

"But that girl..."

"Yeah so? You'd think I'd actually go after someone like that?" He rolled his eyes. "Wasn't even close to my type."

He went down by your ear again and nipped it, earning a small moan from you.

"She was way too quiet. You on the other hand..." Bo took your hand and led you out of the kitchen and up to his room.

"I want you to show me what you'd do, (Y/N). Really show me."

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Ahhhh this was my first fic. I hope everyone who reads it enjoys it! Especially Sketchy-rosewitch!

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x female reader #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slashers #slasher fucker #my first fic

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hellowhisperingstars · 1 year ago

Text

I See you

Summary: Maisie has a bad day at daycare and you talk to Steve and Robin about your worries.

Pairing: Ghost!Eddie Munson x Mommy!Reader x Psychic!Daughter

Words: 5K

Warnings: 18+, no y/n used, fluff, angst, ghosts, cussing, bullying, mentions of things from S4. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Part two! This one is still sad, so I apologize for that! Let me know what you think and please let me know if you have any requests! My inbox is open!

You can find more of my stories on my Stranger Things Masterlist!

You can also read this series on AO3!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

That night you had a long conversation with Maisie about her dad and how he passed in an accident. You never want your little girl to know the terrors of the Upside Down so you danced around the subject. When she’s older… way older… like fifty, maybe then you’ll tell her.

You also asked her to not let anyone else know that Eddie was still around and to be extra careful about talking to him in public. The town didn’t need to know that she was special. You didn’t want anyone to look at her the way they looked at Eddie. Plus, you were already a social pariah because you had a child out of wedlock in a small town. Not to mention she was the child of the so-called “cult leader” who everyone believes destroyed the lives of half the town. You knew he wasn't, his friends and family knew he wasn't but you still explained to Maisie that people will say mean things about her daddy but she shouldn't listen to them. They didn’t know him.

But her dad was a hero.

It's been at least a week since she dropped the 'your late boyfriend was haunting your house and he wants his Garfield mug' bomb and to say you were on edge was a little too on the nose.

You didn't know what to do. You had never raised a child before and for that kid to be a psychic, well that was just the tip of the iceberg. Both of you were learning how to walk down this path you were on, you just hoped the ground didn't fall out from under you as you went.

It took a bit of fighting with yourself but you were finally able to muster up the courage to talk to Steve and Robin about this while Maisie was in daycare. Pushing the door open you looked around the Family Video for your two friends, usually one of them was at the front. Over the years they had been promoted to Manager and Assistant Manager so they ran the place now that Keith was gone. “Hello? Guys?”

The sound of crashing tapes caught your attention, a quiet “Oh shit..” was heard as Steve muttered to himself. Your head snapped to the right as you slowly started to move around the rental counter towards the horror section.

“Welcome to Family Vide- oh! Hey!” He smiled as he walked out of the aisle and over to you engulfing you in a hug before he stepped back to look at you. When he noticed your pensive look his smile fell and he got worried. “What happened? Why aren't you at work? Is Maisie okay?”

“Maisie's fine.” You say holding your hand up. “I took the day off. But there is something about her I need your help with... Where is Robin?”

Looking at his watch Steve frowned. “She’s on her break. Went to grab some coffee. Should be back soon.”

“Cool,” You said, with a nod. Moving towards the counter you leaned against it.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as he went around the counter to lean on it next to you.

“It’ll be easier if I tell you both at the same time.” You mumbled turning when the bell above the door rang. Hoping it was Robin you looked over your shoulder only to come face to face with Mrs. Cunningham who was sneering at you. Slowly you stood up and moved away from the counter so she could return her videos, licking your lips you wandered over to the kids section looking for anything Maisie would be interested in watching. She really liked The Little Mermaid.

Maisie sat alone on the swing set of her daycare, her little Mary Janes kicking the sand below her to make a small pile. She didn't like daycare. She was alone a lot and none of the other kids wanted to be her friend. Plus the old lady inside was mean. Looking up she glanced at the window of the building to see the stern looking old woman staring back at her. Maisie didn’t understand why she didn’t like her, she always left some of her lunch and her afternoon snack for her when the other kids didn’t, always made space for her at the table so she could join them when they colored. All the other kids didn’t seem to even notice her which confused Maisie since the lady was always there. She asked Miss Britney about her once but she told her that there was no lady.

Maisie looked over her shoulder when she felt a cold set of hands on her back giving her a gentle push on the swing.

“Hey kiddo,” Eddie said as he smiled down at her.

“Hi. Mommy said I can’t talk to you outside of the house.” She muttered as she looked at the ground again kicking her legs out as he pushed her back again so she could go higher.

“Yeah, your moms smart like that.” He said as he pushed her once more. Looking over his shoulder at the other kids making sandcastles in the sandbox he turned back to her. “Why aren’t you playing with the other kids?”

“They don’t like me.” She shrugged with a sad pout. “They say mean things.”

“Well don’t listen to them okay,” He said as he moved to lean on the pole of the set as she swung back and forth. “You’re worth a hundred of them.”

“Mommy said you were my daddy.”

“Well, your mom doesn't lie.”

“Why can't she see you?” Maisie asked as she looked up at him as she continued to kick her legs back and forth. Going higher and higher.

“I don't know, bug.” Eddie shrugged as he watched her. “Don’t go too high. I can’t catch you if you fall out here.”

Or maybe he could…Nah, better not test it, it took a lot of energy just to push her on the swing.

Giving a quiet okay she let her legs dangle as she started to slow down. The two of them sat in silence for a while, Eddie watching her from his spot leaning against the swing set. It was strange to know that he had a daughter, that she was sitting on this swing. He was so proud of you for bringing this little girl into the world, but he was also incredibly sad he couldn’t be here to help you raise her like he wanted too. Glancing up at the school he narrowed his eyes at the old lady in the window for a moment as she glared at Maisie, you would think she would be more polite to the only living person that could see her. He watched her for a few more minutes until the daycare attendant walked from the building as she looked at her watch.

“Time to come inside!” Miss Britney called as all the other kids started running to her. Giving a quick headcount she looked up and waved her hand giving the little girl a smile. “Maisie! Come on!”

“Watch this daddy!” She said as she jumped from the slow moving swing landing in the sand about a foot in front of where she was before.

“Woah!” Eddie laughed as he followed her towards the house. “You're cooler than I am. You know that?”

Maisie giggled as she ran to the group and walked into the house. Turning she smiled at Eddie as he followed them inside.

The old lady glared at him. “You're not supposed to be here. You take that devil child and get.”

He narrowed his eyes at her his protective side coming out. No one was going to pick on her when he was around. Alive or dead. "Don't you dare call her that. She's just a kid, my kid. So if you have anything nasty to say you say, you say it to me, got it you old hag?”

The woman huffed in indignation before she disappeared. She'd be back. She was the old owner of this home before it was turned into the daycare, not like she could go anywhere. Eddie knew it was rude but he didn’t like the lady. Turning he gave Maisie a little wink as she sat down to color and he sauntered over to the long bench of cubies to perch on top of it. He'd be right here in case she needed him.

Once Mrs. Cunningham left you peaked around the shelf to see Steve glaring at her back as she walked to her car.

“Why don't you ever stick up for yourself?” Steve asked, looking over at you. “What happened to Chrissy wasn't yours or Eddie's fault. It was Vecna.”

“Do you really think anyone would believe me? Trust me if I had the money I would just leave this place and never come back. But I don't want to leave you guys or take Maisie away from Wayne. She's all he's got.”

Sighing, Steve gave you that look that said you were being stubborn.

“No need to rock the boat when the boat's already capsized. I'm just the girl who dated the devil, remember?”

The bell rang again and Robin walked in. “They didn't have any mocha so I got you vanill- hey!”

“Hey Robs.” You waved with a small smile.

“I just saw Mrs. Cunningham walk out… you okay?” She asked as she handed Steve his coffee and leaned on the same side of the counter as you.

“Yeah. She just glared.” You wave it away. No point in being upset about it.

“Great, now that Robins here you can tell us what's up with Maisie.” Steve said as he took a sip of his too hot coffee. He made a face when he burnt his tongue.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt? Sick? I can run to the store to get her medicine if you need me too.” Robin asked quickly. Maisie was the first baby of the group and the need to protect her was strong in everyone. This little girl sure did have a lot of loving Aunts and Uncles. It made your heart swell.

“She's fine.” You soothed, taking a breath you looked at them both. “But I think Maisie's a psychic.”

“She's what?” Steve blinked, rolling his sore tongue on the roof of his mouth to try and get the pain to stop. It didn't help.

“Psychic.”

Steve gave you a confused face as he looked between you and Robin. “You think she's… crazy?”

“That's psycho dingus.” Robin said, rolling her eyes at him. “Mai is like El or something.”

“So she has powers?”

You shrugged a little bit. “Well, she doesn’t have telepathy or anything like that. She's a medium. She can see and talk to ghosts.”

“But, I mean she's four… it could just be her imagination. Like an imaginary friend.” Steve said, taking another drink of his coffee.

“An imaginary friend who is named Eddie and looks just like her dead dad?” You argued as you looked up at him.

Steve choked on his coffee. You watched him sputter as he tried to breathe. “E-eddie?”

“That's what she said.” Wiping at your tired eyes you looked sadly at them. “She knew things that I never told her. Like that I called him Teddy. The jerk even opened every cabinet and drawer in my kitchen because he wanted that damn Garfield mug at his Uncle's. Twice now.”

“Did you or Wayne ever say anything about him in passing?” Robin asked as she fiddled with her coffee lid. “Maybe she picked up on something, you know? Or seen a photo?”

You shook your head. “No, we are very careful about what we say right now. She's already getting hate for being his kid. We don't want her being a bigger target for the town to go after cause she won't stop talking about him. I only told her that his name was Eddie after she mentioned he said she could call him Teddy. I have one photo in my room of him but it's at the top of a shelf that she can’t see."

“Can you… see him?” Steve asked quietly. Weirder things have happened here in Hawkins. “Eddie… I mean?”

You shook your head and looked down at the counter pushing a box of Mike and Ike’s across the counter. You would give anything to see him again. “No. Just Maisie. She described him perfectly, you guys. She told me about his hair and that damn green vest he was wearing when he died. Is this my fault? I didn’t know I was pregnant when we went into the Upside Down. Do you think the spores we were breathing did this?”

Robin and Steve looked at each other before they both sorta shrugged. Steve crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned on the counter closer to you. “I don’t know. But I know it’s not your fault. This might not have anything to do with the Upside Down, it might just be a Maisie thing.”

Nodding you sighed leaning your forehead against the counter top. A Maisie thing…

After your talk with Steve and Robin you tried to go about your day like normal, grabbed some groceries, a coffee, and when the time came you picked up Maisie from her daycare.

She wasn't her normal bouncy self when she ran over to you. Her arms going around your neck as you pulled her into a hug. “Hi baby. Have a good day?”

Shaking her head she shoved her face into your neck as you held her close.

“What's wrong? What happened?” Looking up at Britney as she walked over to you both. “What happened?”

“We had a little incident today.” Britney said as she gave you a sad smile. “I walked away to change one of the smaller kids and one of the boys called Maisie something mean and they got into a fight. Maisie has a few scratches but she gave that boy a black eye.”

“What did he say?” You asked, trying to keep in your anger as you pulled Maisie away from your neck to check on her. She was a little banged up, nothing that wouldn't heal in a day or two. Her eyes were a little red around the edges from her crying.

Britney hesitated a bit before she took a deep breath. “He said his dad told him that her dad was a murder and that you were a witch... He also said that she was a freak, and his dad said he should stay away from her.”

Anger boiled hotter under your skin as you looked around for a kid with a black eye so you could give his parents a matching set. “Where are they? I would like to talk to them.”

“They're already gone.” She said holding her hands out to soothe you. “I told them that since he started the fight that he wasn't allowed back for the rest of the week. He needs to learn that he can't speak to someone that way. But in turn… Maisie is also suspended for the rest of the week since she hit him.”

“Shit…” You mutter, pulling her close to you again. You have to go back to work tomorrow. Would Hopper mind if she came with? You could have her color at your desk... or one of the teens could watch her… “Okay. I’ll.. I'll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry.” Britney frowned. “She can come back next week.”

“See you next week..” Sighing, you picked Maisie up and started towards your car. Maybe Wayne could take her since he has days off… no he needs to sleep since he hasn’t been able to switch to the day shift yet. Once at your car you helped Maisie into her seat you crouched down next to the car so you could be almost eye to eye with her. “Are you okay baby?”

Sniffling Maisie nodded her head as she looked down at her hands.

Nodding, you brushed your hand over her head and gave her a quick kiss to the forehead before you closed her door and got into the driver's seat. Pulling away from the old house you turned on her favorite cassette and made your way through town towards home. It didn’t take you long to get back to Forest Hills and as you pulled into a spot by your house you looked back at Maisie through the rearview mirror to see her looking out her window, her breathing a little fast. “You see something?”

She nodded her head and looked away from whatever she saw, “She has a scary face.”

“It’s okay,” You soothed as you unbuckle your belt. You were trying really hard not to freak out so you didn't panic her. Sometimes her sight scares you. “Just close your eyes and I’ll let you know when it’s okay to open them. Okay?”

You watched her nod again and shut her eyes tightly in that kid way like when they faked being asleep and you quickly grabbed your keys from the ignition and threw your purse over your shoulder as you got out of the car. Looking around you tried to see something, anything, that could be what your daughter saw but as usual there was nothing. Taking a deep breath you moved to her door and went through the paces of getting her out of her carseat before you lifted her into your arms, closing the door behind you and walking up the steps to your home. Unlocking it you moved to the side so the door could swing open and you closed it behind you, quickly you moved to the couch and set her down. “Okay, there we go safe inside. No more scary lady.”

Maisie slowly let one eye open as she looked around the living room, seeing it was safe, you saw her relax.

“I still need to get the groceries from the car,” You said, helping her out of her jacket. “Why don’t you get comfy and then you can help me make dinner. That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled, completely forgetting about the ghost outside the house, as she bounced off the couch and then down the hall to her room to change out of her day clothes. Maisie loved helping you make dinner.

Smiling after her you left the trailer for just a few minutes to grab the bags from the trunk and locked up your car for the night and moved up the small steps to the front door. Turning you give one more sweep around the empty area, your eyes narrowed, and you square your shoulders. “I don’t care who you are or what you want but you leave my baby alone. You’re not welcome in this house.”

Turning you enter your home, closing the door behind you just in time for Maisie to run from her room in her home clothes. It was just a little dress that you made from an old set of curtains and a sewing machine from the goodwill but she loved it. “What’s dinner?”

“I was thinking of grilled cheese and tomato soup.” You said as you put the bag of food on the counter and started pulling out the cans of soup. “That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled as she ran into the kitchen to pull the step stool out of the corner and up to her usual spot at the counter. She was a good little helper and you let her butter the bread as you started on the soup. The knife she used was a kids learner one so there was nothing sharp to hurt herself with. You smiled at her as you handed over four single wrapped things of cheese to open.

Grabbing a pan from under the counter, you cleared your throat and started a second burner. “You wanna tell me what happened at daycare today?”

Maisie stopped peeling the plastic from the cheese to look up at you. “Tony was being mean about daddy and me. He was saying mean things that his daddy told him. I didn’t like it. I told him to stop but he didn’t.”

You listened as you stirred the soup. Letting her tell you in her own time, you had learned from being around Eddie as long as you had that sometimes pushing for an answer would just make the other person feel cornered so you nodded your head giving a little ‘mhm’ as a cue to continue.

“I told him I would tell Miss Britney,” She said as started to open the cheese again. “But he pushed me and called me a tattle tale and a fr-freak. So I got up and I hit him.”

“Gave him a black eye.” You said, looking over your shoulder at her. “Who taught you how to punch huh?”

“Uncle Steve.” She shrugged as she handed over the pieces of buttered bread now that you turned the burner for the soup off to cool.

“Okay,” You’d have to talk to Steve about that. He taught a four year old to punch when he could barely win a fight? “How’d you get those scratches?”

“He put his hands on my face and he scratched me.” She pouted.

“While I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and your daddy, you can’t hit people, baby.”

“I know,” She sighed as felt a zing up her spine and she looked around the kitchen to see Eddie standing at the kitchen door staring at you sadly. “Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweetpea,” Eddie smiled at her before he looked back up at you. Five years older but still just as beautiful as the last time he saw you.

Your back went ramrod straight as you looked over to where she was looking and just saw the empty doorway. “He’s… um… here?”

Maisie nodded and pointed her little hand to where he was standing. “Right there.”

Your eyes moved around the empty space before you gave him a little smile. “Hi babe.”

He smiled as he took a step towards you. “Hi pretty girl.”

Maisie giggled behind her hand as she looked up at you. “He said you were pretty.”

“As he should!” You said smiling back at her before you finished making your dinner.

The two of you sat at the table and ate your dinner chatting lightly about what's going to happen the rest of the week. You'd have to call Hopper later tonight and see if you can bring her down to the station. She had plenty of books she can read, pages to color, little toys she can play with. She'll be fine. You stared at her in awe as she told you about the rest of her day. You had to remind yourself that she was four, but she spoke so well for her age, guess that comes with having no one but adults for friends. She picks up on words and habits like a sponge.

After dinner you set her up with The Little Mermaid and a puzzle as you washed the dishes. After a while you caught yourself staring at your daughter as she sang along with the movie a puzzle piece in her little hand as she watched Ariel sing “Part of Your World” and you wished you could be like her. Seeing so many scary things, dealing with people being rude for the hell of it, and taking it all in stride with only a few bad patches here and there. Really you wished you could see what she sees. Help her learn how to shut the bad things out. How were you supposed to protect her from the things you can't see? You could barely protect her from the things you could.

So lost in your thoughts you jumped as you felt a cold spot grow on the small of your back. Like someone had placed their hand there. It was comforting. Eddie. It was like he was saying that everything would be okay. Looking over your shoulder you watched as a small puff of air left your lips in a little cloud like it did when it was winter. "Eddie, that had better be you or I swear to God…" You mutter trying not to get Maisie's attention.

The feeling left a few seconds later, but that spot stayed cool for a while after that. You finished the dishes quickly and moved to your room to change into your pj's. Looking up at the photo you had of Eddie in your room you smiled sadly. You loved that photo. Eddie was sitting on his Dungeon Master throne in the drama room of Hawkins High, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sat on his lap, his nose was buried in your hair as you laughed at something he said. Pulling on one of Eddie's old band shirts that Wayne gave you after Eddie died you left your room and got comfy on the couch to finish the movie with your little girl as she pointed out things you never noticed before.

You watched her yawn as the movie came to a close and you looked up at the clock to see it was time for her bath and then bed. Together you moved into the bathroom so you could give her her bath, the tub filled to the brim with bubbles as she played with her toys. Once you had scrubbed your girl clean, you wrapped her in a fluffy towel, and dried her off as you got her ready for bed. Tucking her into her little pink princess bed you kissed her forehead as you sat on the bed next to her. “Goodnight baby. I'll see you bright and early in the morning. Do you need anything before you're off to slumberland?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Do you remember what you say if you see something scary?”

“You’re not welcomed here. Get out!”

“Atta girl!” You smiled as you pushed her curls from her forehead.

“Night mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled as she got comfy in the bed, making sure to grab her stuffed bear, Mr. Noodles, that Joyce bought her when she was born, before you stood up and left the bed leaning down to switch on her nightlight before you moved to the door turning off the overhead room light. You stood in the doorway for a moment watching her in the dim purple light of her little nightlight before you left the room leaving the door open just a crack in case she needed you.

You took a few minutes to turn off the TV and clean up her puzzle pieces making sure not to lose any so she can continue it later. Moving into your kitchen you grab the phone off the wall and by heart you hit the buttons for Hopper and Joyce's home. You listened as the phone rang and rang before Jonathon answered.

“Hello?” He said into the phone.

“Jon!” You smiled as you leaned on the wall. “How are you?! Back from college already?”

“Hey!” You heard him smile as he said your name. “Yeah, got in this afternoon. How are you? How's Maisie?”

You caught up with Jonathon for a couple of minutes before you got the courage to ask for Hopper.

“Everything okay?” Jonathan asked.

“Maisie got into a fight at her daycare and now she's not allowed back until next week. I just needed to ask Hop if I could bring her with me to work.”

“Bring her here. I'll watch her.” Jonathan said as he pulled the phone away for a moment to say something to his mom about watching Maisie at their house.

Joyce jumped at the chance to see the little girl and through the receiver you could hear her say “Of course! She's always welcomed here, you know that!”

Your eyes stung with tears as you laughed a little. The love you felt for your found family was otherworldly. “Jon, are you sure? I don't want to mess up any plans you have with Nancy.”

"Yeah!" He said, "Yeah it's fine. Nancy has to work tomorrow so it'll be okay. Plus I'm sure she'd love to see her."

“Thank you guys. I'll bring her by on my way to work. Is eight o'clock okay?”

“That’s perfect!”

Letting out a sigh of relief you thanked him again before you let him go for the night and grabbed your book from the counter. You liked to use the time that Maisie slept to read uninterrupted. Moving back into the living room you got comfy on the couch and opened the book to your saved spot. You had just started to get into the story when the lights started to flicker. Looking at the lamp next to you your heart started to race. Eddie said that the lights flickered when Chrissy was killed by Vecna. It couldn’t be…

Slowly getting off the couch you dropped your book as you stared at the lamp as it continued to flicker randomly before you realized… It was morse' code. S.O.S. Eddie. Looking around the room you jumped letting out a little scream before you clamped your hand over your mouth to keep from waking Maisie as your TV turned on by itself. The static white noise was all you heard before you looked around for the remote that seemed to be missing. You needed to turn it off by hand. Slowly you moved towards it and got down on your knees so you could turn it off. The powering down sounds happened and you breathed a sigh of relief when the world went quiet again. Looking up at the TV your eyes went wide as in the reflection of the screen was Eddie. Sitting behind you so close you could feel the cold. You had been so preoccupied by the lights and the TV you didn't even notice the drop in temperature. Tears collected on your lower lashes as you looked over your shoulder at your empty living room and then back into the TV. "Eddie…"

He smiled at you. Looking as handsome as he was before the demobats attacked him. He looked healthy and whole. You couldn't hear him but you saw his lips move. "Hi baby."

"How…" Shaking your head you smiled at him with a watery laugh, you didn't care. Your daughter wasn't crazy and Eddie was here watching over you both.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #ghost!eddie munson #daddy!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #st s4 #echoes of you series

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