#i think google slides should be taken away from me

[codecicle]

like this post to give god!bizly it/its pronouns. reblog this post to kiss someone with blacklung on the mouth sloppy style. i am severely mentally ill

[sonarspace]

love cramp, choso

wc: 1.8k content: fluff (reader has period cramps and he takes care of you). nsfw (oral. fem! receiving. multiple orgasms. face riding. overstimulation if you squint.) a/n: not proofread as usual. idk why its taken me so long to write for him but here we are :D.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

the first time choso eats you out he thinks he’s in heaven. sweet taste and honey like consistency. he can never get enough of tasting you. so when you get your period it’s like his source of food is gone.

you wake up to find your underwear covered in a light shade of red. the cramps come soon after. choso comes over at night, a smile on his face — excited to be around you.

the smile is soon wiped off his face when he walks around the couch to see your eyes scrunched. your body curled up, and your hands clutching your lower abdomen, a cramp hitting when he walked in. “are you okay??” he moves over to you. his hand moves over yours holding your stomach. trying to pry them away to see if you're hurt in anyway.

"cramp," you cry in pain. he pushes the hair sticking to you back and presses a kiss to your head. you huff out a laugh "ha, that was a bad one, but yes i'm okay.. i got my period in the morning".

"ohh," choso elongates the word in understanding. he asked you about it earlier when he noticed the pads in your bathroom shelf and you explained to him what it was then. how your cycle happens once and sometimes twice if the universe was trying to fuck with you.

and sure the universe was trying to fuck with you this time cause only two weeks later your cycle starts again. having done his own research about it, choso's patient and understanding when you lose your temper or get too emotional.

as soon as he finds out your on your period he gives you a quick peck on the lips and is out the door. not because he doesn't want to be around you but because he wants to take care of you in the best way he could. "text me, if you need anything specific i'll be back in twenty minutes."

you text him a "come back quick, i wanna cuddle 😞" after he's gone for ten minutes. he replies "be back real soon sweet cheeks :)". he does a quick google search on foods to reduce menustral cramps and grabs whatever he thinks you'd like from the list: dark chocolate, bananas, avocados, chamomile tea, pineapple and some ice cream just cause, and a heating pad since you've lost yours.

you're sitting up on the couch now, knees brought up to your chest. he gives you a short haul of all the things he's got you. a smile on your face and his love gripping your beating heart as you watch him explain why he bought each item.

a happy tear slips from the corner of your eye and he notices, "why are you crying? does it hurt too much?" you shake your head and chuckle softly "i'm just really happy you're here choso". he blushes "wouldn't wanna be anywhere else, darling".

fifth day of your period and you're barely bleeding. the cramps are almost gone unlike usual. you can't help but notice how he's being a little distant. you're about to ask him but that is until you notice his hard on and connect two and two together. he's sitting beside you trying really hard to keep up with the movie instead of getting on his knees and eating you out like a starved man.

he gulps when you move your hand to his thigh. you know you shouldn't tease him but you do anyway because it's fun to see him get flustered by your touch. your hands slide further up his shorts, your nails lightly scratch his inner thigh. his breath hitches when your pinky finger lightly rubs over his boner.

you fake a yawn and competely remove your hand. "i think we should go to bed," you tell him. he follows you with a confused look. "is there something you want to tell me, choso?" you tease him. "um...can i-" he clears his throat.

he gets on his knees then. "can i please, please, please eat you out?" you're taken aback. your lips parting in a silent gasp — expecting him to ask you for a blowjob instead. "is that why you're so hard?" you raise an eyebrow.

"god yes, baby, please let me touch you. let me make you feel good, please it's all i've been thinking about for the past five days. thought i'd be able to spend the night between your legs but you got your period," he pouts. you laugh, your hand grasping his cheek, "oh choso, you're a such a needy boy, aren't you?" and he nods feverishly.

"go ahead." you tell him. and his lips are immediately kissing up a path to your shorts. his hands on your hips to keep you steady, as he kisses you over your shorts. his nose nuzzling against your clit and he whimpers. his hands make their way under your shirt, his cold fingertips cupping your boobs. you gasp your head falling backwards.

you feel his teeth nipping at the skin of your hips. you look down to see him pulling off your shorts with his mouth. determined to keep massasing your boobs he successfully pulls down both your shorts and panties. "choso," you whine at his neediness. he stands up and press a quick kiss to your lips. his hands under your shirt helping you remove it. fully nude now, he gets rid of his own clothes quickly and pushes you down on the bed. "just relax, i'm going to take such good care of you sweet girl."

he kisses his way down to where you need him the most. leaving hickeys on his way — obessed with the way your skin felt under his lips and between his teeth. his arms move under your legs as he gets comfortable. he slowly licks once from your entrance to your clit, twice, thrice until you moan out a please.

"shh sweet honey, need to take my time. been waiting for five days, you can wait a bit longer for me, can't you?" he pouts. and his pouts always have you melting. "yeah i can wait," you pant. you're so wet — all because of him, he thinks. he takes pride in having you sprawled and needy for him like this, it's rare. sometimes he can't believe he has the same effect on you like you do.

he takes a finger and gathers your wetness on his tip, smearing it all over your stomach. he moans as he bites your inner thigh and inserts a finger into your needy hole. he moves up your body to lick at the wetness he left on your abdomen. the sounds he lets out as he licks it off you are pornographic.

"clenchin around my finger so much, breathe for me baby, deep breaths," he guides you. he chuckles when you give him a blank expression. another kiss to your hips. he always had to kiss you. it's as good as oxygen for him — the taste of you on his lips, on his tongue.

his tongue pokes out and licks lightly at your clit. "that pineapple's made your taste sweeter," he hums. he loved your taste. could live off of it forever. he presses his tongue on your clit, heavy. his eyes meet yours. your lips parted in a whine. his finger plugged in you starts slowly moving in and out, curling — trying to reach that spot in you.

your eyes roll to the back of your head. his long fingers reaching deep inside of you, curling and meeting your sensitive spot. you buck into his hand. your hand makes its way into his hair, scratching lightly. he replaces his finger with his tongue. dipping in and slurping. making filthy noises.

he links a hand with your free hand. the need to hold you through this in some way. his tongue alternates between flicking and sucking your clit and dipping into your needy hole. his thumb rubs your clit quickly trying to get you to reach your orgasm. he feels your walls tighten around his tongue as you cum.

he doesn't stop though. his tongue moves over your clit sucking. desperately wanting you to cum once more. and you do with a loud cry of his name "choso, choso, god, choso".

"no god here baby, just your choso." he smiles. his chin drenched in your juices and his hair slightly undone, sticking to his face. he tries to go down on you once more but you pull him away with the grip you have on his hair. "i can't" you pant.

"it's been five days, sugar. please, please, just one more," he begs and you give in. his tongue moves over you quickly. his teeth coming out to lighlty nip. adding an extra sensation. making it harder for you to keep your orgasm in, you let go. he lays beside you, breathing heavily. he kisses you deeply, enough that you could taste yourself on his tongue. you look down to his cock, rock hard and covered in white liquid. "did you..?" you ask with knowing smile. "yeah, your pussy drives me crazy." he laughs.

still unsatisfied, he grabs your hips moving you over him. "choso?" you question. "need you to ride my face, doll. get yourself off on me, come on. please?" he asks. grabbing your ass and moving under your pussy. you clench around nothing when his breath hits your core. "it's just beggin for my mouth, peach," he pulls you down on his face.

his tongue works you to yet another orgasm. your hips have a mind of their own as they move over him. his nose pushes into your clit. his ministrations this time have you more than cumming. you gasp as you squirt all over his face. surprised that he made you reach this state, he takes it all in like a proud man. satsified groans and whines falling out of his lips.

you pant pushing yourself off him. you lay beside him, breathing heavily — too tired to move. you hiss when you feel a warm towel between your legs. he cleans you up quickly and softly. a gentle peck on the marks his nails left inside your thighs. "choso, no more. please." you whisper.

"no more baby. just cleaning you up". he smiles softly. his hair fully undone and framing his face perfectly. he lays down beside, pulling you in as close he can. "really tired you out, huh?" he pushes your hair back so he could take in your features clearly. your eyes slightly open, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red.

you take him in for the first time in hours as well. his lips flushed a darker color than usual and his cheeks warm as your palm cups his face to pull him in for a kiss. you hum a yes into the kiss. "my girl, my sweet girl. my girl. the most perfect girl. my honey bun. my sugar filled doll. i love you. thank you." he whispers against your lips.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 10 - june 16

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

15:90 – TREVOR

“You’re burning, Trevor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hasn’t been able to jack off. 

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

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

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

Trevor could sing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

“Why weren’t you at the fruit stand?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

16:90 – HONEY

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

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

No, Honey is furious at herself. 

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

Busy with Quinn, because everything is easy for them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone knocks on the doorframe and Honey whirls around. 

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

“Don’t,” Honey says. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor fishmouths, shrugging with one shoulder. 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t get me,” Honey repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trevor steps forward.

Honey steps back.

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

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

Trevor hums, disapproving. 

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

“Trevor,” Honey warns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

17:90 – TREVOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again, where?” Jamie repeats. 

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

Jamie is silent on the other end. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mid-evening, Jack knocks on his door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Trevor replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you hooked up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

18:90 – HONEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey knows all of Bea’s tells by now.

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

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

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

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

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

Bea is unperturbed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey rolls her eyes and shakes her head. 

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

“So, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honey traces her finger over the blue spine, feeling the silver lines swirl underneath her fingers. She pulls the book out and reads the title: ‘Tales of the Night Sky: Revealing the Mythologies and Folklore Behind Constellations.’

Oh, hell, Trevor’s going to love it.

Honey dreads seeing him. but she can’t imagine allowing anyone else to see the grand smile that’s going to overtake his face at the sight of the book. He’s going to be so excited and Honey doesn’t want Bea to be the one to receive that smile. No, it’s hers. She’s the only one who can make Trevor smile like that.

What? No, she’s not.

Honey cringes at the thought, shivering in disgust at her own imagination. She meant what she said the other day: Trevor couldn’t be more wrong for her.

He’s a West Coast boy, even if he’s from New York originally. He’s a traveler, an athlete. He’s got an attitude like he’s hot shit and he knows it, and even if she’s seen softer moments from him, she knows in her gut that he’s the kind to ditch a girl after getting in her pants. 

So what if he matches her wit? So what if he is blatantly obvious about his flirting? So what if he says he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants Honey?

He could be lying. He’s a boy in his twenties. He’s just thinking with his dick, looking to say anything right to get Honey into his bed. She’s not going to fall for it, even if he’s pretty and passionate about the things that he likes. He even cares deeply for his friends, especially when they annoy him. 

Honey runs her fingers over the illustration of the fish on the cover. She bites the inside of her cheek, then slaps the back cover of the book against her other hand in a satisfying clap. She returns to the counter and picks up her own book, removing her bookmark and assuming her post. 

There’s about an hour until The Reading Nook officially closes. Bea starts on their chores as soon as she finishes stocking the new books, leaving Honey to man the entire store in case someone walks in. They won’t, because they never do. 

Honey finishes her book with twenty minutes to go and decides that that’s not enough time to find another and take it home with her.

The cover of the constellations book tempts her.

She stares at it, and the silver illustrations stare back. Honey frowns at the book, annoyed at her own interest. How dare Trevor like something as interesting as astronomy.

Finally, Honey relents. She picks up the book and turns to the introduction, her eyes raking over the page. 

“When you go stargazing on a clear, dark night, the star-studded heavens form a vast, dark dome over your head. It is the same everywhere on Earth.”

Honey blinks and hums to herself, adjusting atop her stool. She might have to borrow this book after Trevor is done with it, if the rest of the writing is as captivating as the first two sentences. She buries herself back in the pages, getting all the way through the introductory scientific sections. 

When Bea comes out of the back carrying Honey’s bag and sweatshirt, Honey is almost upset that she couldn’t start the section about constellations and the Zodiac. She’s been meaning to learn more about astrology lately, and this book is just interesting enough that she nearly forgot it was Non-Fiction. 

The girls walk out together, making their way down the sidewalk as the sun finally fades behind the mountains in the distance. When they reach the point where they have to say goodbye, Bea reaches out and squeezes Honey’s hand.

“Thank you,” Bea says sincerely.

“You owe me,” Honey replies. She squeezes Bea’s hand back. “Enjoy your very late dinner.”

“I owe you so big,” Bea confirms, leaning in to plant a kiss on Honey’s cheek. 

Honey watches her go for an extra moment, seeing her approach a car in the dark. Under the streetlight, Quinn leans against the driver’s side door, a smile curving his lips as Bea skips over to him. He connects with Bea in a sweet hug, lifting his chin so it rests on the crown of her head. He lifts a hand to wave at Honey, letting it hover before it falls back on Bea’s shoulder.

Honey smiles, waving back in the same way. She takes the sight in for a second– her best friend bouncing over to a guy and wiggling her way into his space. Quinn’s a quiet, generally grumpy guy from what Honey has seen, but he’s soft and comfortable when he’s around Bea.

The smile fades into a slight frown after a moment, and Honey turns away. She’s forlorn suddenly, hit by the desire to have someone act like that with her. She wishes someone was waiting for her by the car, that someone was holding her like she’s something precious. Honey shakes her head, willing the feeling away.

She unlocks her car and climbs behind the wheel, pulling out of her spot and driving down the mountain, almost missing the boys’ driveway in the dark. She pulls up to the wooden front door, knocking on the surface a few times. 

Honey chews her bottom lip as she waits for someone to come answer the door. She taps nervously on the front cover of the book, listening for the approaching footsteps of someone on the other side. 

Please, don’t be Trevor.

Then, fuck. Please be Trevor.

It’s not Trevor when the door swings open, and Honey is ashamed to admit that she’s a little disappointed. She also feels a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of the other boy. She catches a glimpse of dark hair and sighs, thinking it’s Jack.

At a second look, Honey blinks to make sure she’s seeing things right. There’s the foyer, all covered in wood and terribly designed. There’s the chandelier of antlers, hanging above his head. 

The man, however, Honey has never seen in her entire life.

He’s got a square face. Honey’s eyes are drawn to his jaw immediately, the curve of it sharp and flat, further embellished by the dusting of dark stubble on his face. His hair flops over his forehead in dark waves, parted messily just off-center. She can’t tell the color of his eyes, but his dark eyebrows are just as strong as his jaw and his mouth tilts down a little bit, even though he’s plastering a polite smile on his face. He’s wearing a plain gray sweatshirt with the hood above his head, and one of the strings is longer than the other.

Honey feels a bit like she’s forgotten to breathe. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Hi,” Honey breathes out, caught off guard. 

“How can I help you?” The man asks.

His voice is higher than she expected, but it’s cute. He’s cute.

“I’m, uh, dropping a book off for Z,” Honey says, her voice higher than normal. She clears her throat and forces a smile on her face to rectify her stunned, probably obviously stupid, expression. She used Trevor’s nickname. Why is she so much unsteadier than normal?

She blames it on Quinn and Bea.

The man looks Honey up and down and his smile turns sweeter. She damn near blushes. “You’re here for Z?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Honey shakes her head. “Not really, just… dropping off the book.” She fumbles with the paperback. She shoves it into the man’s hands, pausing when his fingers brush over hers. He holds them there for a second longer, just long enough for Honey to look down at the point of contact, smiling knowingly when she looks back up at him.

“I’ll give it to him.” He nods at her, his eyes soft and genuine. “Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Honey replies, standing there for a moment. The boy starts to close the door and gives her a little look when she doesn’t step away. They make eye contact and Honey opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by another voice, one that’s growing closer with each syllable.

“Jim, who was it?” Trevor calls.

Honey’s eyes widen and she turns to her car, practically jumping in the vehicle and speeding away. 

Nope. No Trevor for her tonight.

If she’s acting awestruck by some pretty boy she’s never seen before, she doesn’t even want to know how she’d act around the infuriating boy who “has never wanted anyone as much as he wants her.” She just can’t do it.

19:90 – TREVOR

Things are looking up. The reasons are threefold. One, that Trevor’s best friend is in town, staying in the house with him and his other best friends. Two, that Quinn had dinner with Bea last night and no longer wants to kill Trevor. Three, that he has a new book to read and it’s cool. 

It’s a short book, something that would take him less than a day if he had all the time in the world, but between workouts and hanging out with his friends, it’ll probably take him a week or so to finish it. He’s eager to read more, having finished the introduction last night. The book is clear without dumbing down any of the information and Trevor feels like a real astronomer. 

He wants to cancel their plans tonight and just sit on his balcony and search for each constellation he reads about, but he’s looking forward to tonight. He hasn’t seen Honey since Tuesday, three full days, and he can’t wait to introduce her to Jamie. 

He’s been debating telling Jamie the whole deal about Honey– about how Trevor had to go back and talk to her after he met her, about how she terrorized him on the pool table and overjoyed the goons by making him do a Zulu Run, how she decimated Jack in one breath, how she and Trevor have this indescribable, insurmountable tension between them, and how much he likes her…

…but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

Instead, when Quinn left the night before, Jack launched into planner mode. He stole Trevor’s phone and texted Bea about coming over for beer night and bringing Honey with her. Jamie had asked about the girls and Jack assured him that he would meet them soon enough and not to worry about it.

Trevor understands why Jamie gets quiet around Jack when the boy says dismissive replies like that.

After Jack’s impromptu planning session, Jamie had gone to bed, and Trevor had lost his chance.

Then, this morning, he and Jamie had played a little roller-hockey in the rink, and they were having too much fun laughing to talk about Honey at all. 

Then, Jamie had gone upstairs for a shower and a nap and Trevor read his book.

Other than that, they haven’t really been alone. Someone is always in the room with them, whether it be Quinn making himself a sandwich for lunch, Cole and Luke running a game of ping pong in the basement, or Jack recruiting Trevor to run to the store with him to buy more liquor and “beer night supplies.”

Trevor suspects that Jack might have an ulterior motive for the evening.

Now, it’s past dinnertime, and Jack’s only just putting a frozen pizza in the oven. He’s got a big, fluffy oven mitt on his hand, and Luke can’t stop taking pictures to send to their Mom. Jack’s hair is back in a baseball cap and he’s shirtless. He claims he was out back tanning before Trevor came downstairs, but Trevor doesn’t believe him.

No, Jack is shirtless so that he can draw Bea’s eyes when she walks through the door. What a slut.

Jack, that is, not Bea. 

The girls are a few minutes away, as per Bea’s text on Trevor’s phone, when Jamie patters down the stairs. He’s wearing an old Flyers t-shirt, something he probably got from a teammate when he was traded there. 

Jamie approaches Trevor in the kitchen, sliding onto the stool next to him, and Trevor goes to wipe the logo off of his shirt. The attempts are futile, obviously, but Jamie gets the message.

“Hey, the girls coming tonight,” Jamie begins. “Are they the same girls you guys were talking about?”

Trevor shrugs. “Yeah, we don’t really know anyone else in town. I’m not even sure there’s anyone else our age in town.”

Jamie nods, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is one of them the girl that dropped off your book last night?”

Trevor laughs. “Yeah, that was Bea. She’s the one who’s hooking up with all the guys.”

Surprise causes Jamie’s lips to part, blinking like he’s taken aback. “Her?” He furrows his eyebrows. “I thought Quinn was going to meet Bea last night.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor remembers. “He was.”

Trevor pauses, his features knitted in confusion. Bea wouldn’t have had the time to drive all the way down to the house, especially since Quinn had left to go into town right as her shift ended. She was cooking him dinner and, Trevor had assumed, talking to him about the hookup situation. It wouldn’t have made sense for Bea to drop off the book and then go all the way back to her place with Quinn.

“I guess Honey must have dropped the book off last night,” Trevor realizes quietly, speaking more to think aloud to himself rather than to explain the event to Jamie. Honey was here and he didn’t even realize?

“Honey,” Jamie repeats, feeling the name out.

Trevor nods. “Yeah, I meant to tell you about her. She’s a townie and she’s really great. I think I’m going to–”

He’s cut off by the sound of the front door banging open and Bea tumbling through it. Honey follows behind her, swinging her keys around her finger and giggling when Bea trips over her own foot.

“Bambi,” Honey chides, looping her arm around Bea’s and walking with her to the kitchen. “Still can’t walk after last night?”

“I missed a step,” Bea complains. She turns to the boys in the kitchen. “I swear.”

“Whatever you say, Bambi,” Trevor replies, teasing the girl. 

“Hey,” Honey says, her voice soft. 

Trevor’s back straightens and his eyes light up, turning to face his girl and greet her, but when he looks at her, Honey is already looking at Jamie.

“Hey,” Jamie parrots back. He holds eye contact with Honey for a second too long and Trevor starts to frown. Then, his eyes turn toward Bea and Jamie sticks his hand out. “I’m Jamie.”

Bea takes his hand and shakes it, surveying him. “I’m Bea.” She wets her lips. “This is Honey.”

“We met,” Jamie replies, looking over to Honey again. 

Trevor doesn’t like how he takes her in from head to toe. He especially doesn’t like how Honey bites back a smile and looks away from the dark-haired boy. Her eyes meet Trevor’s for a second and they grow wide before she drops her gaze completely.

Trevor’s seen that look before– it’s the same deer in headlights look that Jack adopted when Quinn walked in on him talking to Cole about Bea this morning.

Honey turns to Bea and nods. “Yeah, Jamie answered the door when I dropped that book off last night.”

There’s the confirmation that Trevor needed– so it was Honey at the door last night. He wishes he could go back in time and hop up from the couch before Jamie did so that he could answer the door himself. 

“The rest of the guys are downstairs,” Trevor says, changing the subject and hopping up from his stool. He starts to gesture towards the stairs, his hand hovering above Honey’s side but not quite touching her. “Jack planned a spectacular party for you girls.”

“Oh, God,” Bea laughs, taking a step towards the steps. “Here I was, thinking this was just another beer night at the boys’ house. I would’ve dressed up if I knew it was a party.”

Honey presses her lips together for a split second, then grins at Bea. Her tone is playful and teasing, but still biting. “I don’t think it matters what you wear, Bea.”

Bea pulls back with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrows. “Why not? I’m allowed to look nice.”

“It all looks the same on the floor, wouldn’t you agree?”

Trevor’s jaw drops open and he laughs, catching himself off guard with the sound. “Holy fuck, Honey.”

Honey shrugs. “It’s true.”

“You can’t just say shit like that–”

“I mean, she’s right,” Bea agrees, interrupting Trevor and grinning like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “It all ends in a pile anyway.”

Jamie snickers, standing partially behind Trevor. 

Trevor loathes the way Honey looks past him to smile at the quiet boy. He presses his fingertips into the small of Honey’s back, guiding her towards the basement. Ha. Suck on that, Jamie. I’m touching Honey and you’re not.

Honey pulls away from his touch and shoots him a sharp look. She shakes her head minutely, making a face at Trevor. It stuns him, and when she bounds down the stairs after Bea, Jamie bumps into the stationary boy with an “oof.”

“Dude,” Jamie complains.

“What happened last night?” Trevor asks. “When you answered the door and picked up my book?”

“Nothing.” Jamie shrugs. “Honey and I talked for like two seconds, I took the book from her, and then you came to check on me, and she left.”

“Huh,” Trevor replies. Why didn’t she want to see me?

“She’s cute,” Jamie says, sounding far away.

Trevor whirls around to face him. Jamie’s got this distant smile on his face, eyes looking down the stairs where the girls disappeared. 

“I know,” Trevor states. He stares at Jamie, frowning a little. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees. He meets Trevor’s eyes and grins. “Wanna go party?”

Trevor relaxes a little. It’s hard to be suspicious of Jamie, since the kid is so happy all the time. It’s fine if he thinks Honey is cute. Trevor and Honey already have something going on and that isn’t just going to change because Jamie is here. Trevor’s going to continue flirting with the girl, going to keep trying to win her over. Jamie’s presence is a comfort to him, not a threat to his flirtationship with Honey.

Right.

With a deep breath, Trevor and Jamie make their way down the stairs. Jamie heads to the couch, striking up a conversation with Luke about the movie on the big TV. Cole is tossing a football up and down, laying on the loveseat with his feet dangling over the edge. Jack and Quinn are playing pool, and Honey and Bea are sitting on the stools giggling with each other. 

Trevor wanders over and catches the tail end of what Bea’s saying, a snide remark about one of the shots that Quinn took. 

“I’d like to see you do better,” Quinn replies, looking unimpressed. He holds the cue out towards Bea, but she waves him off.

“I’m okay watching, actually.” 

Trevor leans on the windowsill behind Honey, one of his arms resting on the edge of her stool. “Why don’t you show him how it’s done?” He asks, tilting his chin up at Honey in a little nod.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m okay.”

Trevor shrugs in assent, not pressing the matter. “How was your day?”

Honey pauses and shares a glance with Bea. “It was good. How was yours?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you,” Trevor bites back with his most charming grin.

Honey raises her eyebrows in surprise and chuckles out of the side of her mouth. She opens her mouth to say something, cut back with a snarky remark like she always does, but it never comes.

Jack sinks the 8-ball with an interrupting clink and cheers, whooping in a circle around Quinn. 

Quinn glares at him, reracking his stick. He snatches the stick out of Jack’s hand and adds it to the line of cues. 

“Sore loser,” Jack teases, playing with fire.

“Sore winner,” Quinn replies, his face dark. 

“Oh, cut it out,” Luke groans from the couch. “No one wants to hear another fight between you two. Quinn, c’mere, we’re going to play Mario.”

With one last threatening glance at Jack, Quinn joins his brother on the couch and grabs a controller. They’re starting up the game now, picking characters, and Trevor turns to Honey. 

“Do you want to play?” He asks. “I’d love to see you kick some ass in Mario.”

He sees Bea roll her eyes out of his peripheral vision, clearly unimpressed by his compliment. Jack sidles up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his hand on her hip. “Wanna do a shot with me?”

Bea hops up and nods. “Sure.”

Trevor looks at Honey expectantly, waiting for her to answer.

“I think I’m just going to stick with Bea, but thank you for the compliment, Trevor.” Honey reaches up and pats Trevor’s cheek, a little harder than he thinks is necessary. “Why don’t you go play for the both of us?”

“Will you cheer for me when I win?” Trevor smiles, trying not to feel hurt by the rejection.

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Sure, Trev. I’ll cheer for you when you win.”

“Cool,” Trevor says. “Keep an eye on me, yeah?”

Honey fixes him with a look. “It’s very hard to take my eyes off of you, Trevor.”

Even though she says it sarcastically, Trevor grins like she meant it. His chest warms like she meant it. At least she admits to looking at him, even if she’s teasing him when she does. He’s worried about nothing– Honey is getting comfortable and Trevor isn’t doing anything to push her away. She’ll be his girl in no time.

Trevor nods and taps her knee in farewell, turning to hop over the couch and settle in next to Jamie.

The boys are racing with the screen split into four. Jamie’s playing as Luigi, Luke is Yoshi, Cole is Bowser, and Quinn is a Shy Guy. They’re playing some castle circuit, and the game quickly gets heated.

Cole, as a testament to how peculiar he is, wins each game. He can’t play pool for shit, but he can dominate in Mario Kart. It’s his one calling card and he never stops bragging when they play. 

Eventually, they finish the circuit. Trevor had kept an ear out for Honey and Bea in the area behind him, laughing and giggling. Occasionally, they’ll clink tiny shot glasses together with Jack and down them, and Bea winces every time. 

Quinn looks over his shoulder with each cough that leaves Bea’s mouth, but bites his cheeks instead of wandering up to her when Jack rubs her shoulders soothingly. 

Honestly? Trevor admires his restraint. He’s taking Bea’s ‘Slut Summer’ very well, now that it seems to be in full swing. 

Trevor doesn’t notice Jamie grow quieter and quieter with each time one of the boys yells over him. He had procured Cole’s controller when he left to take a leak and a few shots with the other three “partygoers,” so Trevor’s focus is his kart and Peach’s position on the leaderboard. 

They’re in the middle of Rainbow Road when Cole comes back and demands to take the final lap. He snatches his controller back from Trevor, since Trevor was in second and “it was his controller first!” 

Trevor blanches and complains, and Jamie silently passes over his own controller. Fifth place isn’t bad, but Trevor can do better. He thanks Jamie for the controller, remembering why Jamie’s his best buddy, and Jamie sinks into the couch. He sets his feet up on the coffee table and stretches his arms out over the back of the couch. Trevor leans forward, focusing.

“Trevy-baby,” Bea’s voice calls from behind him. Trevor bites his lip as he takes a turn on the difficult course, managing to swipe an item box while drifting. “Will you come here a minute?”

“Kind of in the middle of something, Bea,” Trevor replies. 

Quinn makes a noise of disapproval, but his eyes stay focused on the screen and he throws out a red shell, hitting Luke’s kart.

“Okay, well, we need another person,” Bea bites back, sounding a little annoyed. 

Trevor nudges Jamie with his elbow. “Can you go see what they’re talking about?” Trevor has just climbed into second place, and he has eyes on the back of Cole’s kart.

“Yeah, bud, no problem,” Jamie agrees easily, standing from the couch and disappearing from Trevor’s eyeline. 

Trevor refocuses on the game, eying an item box that will hopefully afford him a blue shell, giving him the chance to knock Cole out of the running and win, so he can listen to Honey cheer for him. 

Just as Trevor gets the box and triumphantly shouts out a “Yes!”, Luke strikes them all with lightning from fourth place and ruins Trevor’s chances. Luke even speeds up and beats Trevor out for second place, but it wasn’t as tight as it was for Cole.

“You know that was my fucking controller, dude,” Trevor grumbles at the other boy. “I was in second, I could’ve won. You’re an impatient fuck.”

He tosses his controller on the table in front of him and crosses his arms over his chest. He wanted Honey to cheer for him, wanted her attention on him again. 

I guess I can see what Bea wanted now.

Trevor turns, looking over the back of the couch towards the girls and Jack and Jamie. “What did you need from me, Bea?” He asks, voice still pouty from his loss.

He’s met with the sight of Honey and Bea sitting on the edge of the pool table and his jaw slackens. They’ve both lost their shirts, left in bras and shorts. Trevor’s eyes fix on Honey’s chest and he can already feel his mind turning. Her skin looks soft and smooth and the curves of her cleavage are visible in the bra, but not bulging up like a corset. She looks like she would if she were lazing around in Trevor’s bathroom while he takes a shower, getting ready for the day. He can imagine talking to her over the spray of the shower, begging her to come wash his hair even though she’s already said no three times.

Trevor notices the shot glass resting between her breasts, balancing against the band of her bra. She’s looking down, fixing it and trying not to spill a drop. She has no idea that Trevor is practically salivating at the sight of her.

There’s a lime between her lips, facing outward. 

Oh, fuck.

Jamie licks the back of his hand, sprinkling some salt on the patch of wetness. Jack does the same thing, standing between Bea’s parted legs, and Trevor’s head whips toward Quinn.

The older boy’s expression is nonchalant, barely passing over Bea and Honey before returning to the television. The only sign that he could be bothered is the clench of his jaw and the hard stare of his eyes, but Trevor receives that look every day, so he quickly realizes that he’s not going to find any shared outrage from Quinn.

Trevor frowns. He feels like he’s turning sour, rotting from the inside out as Honey brushes her hair back and looks up at Jamie, the edges of her mouth turned up in a smile. The lime wobbles between her lips, but doesn’t fall. 

“Cole,” Bea calls, distracted. She pushes her boobs together and Jack plops the shot glass securely in her cleavage, letting his hand linger there. “Can you count us down, please?”

“No problem,” Cole replies, not even looking at the scene in front of them. “From three? Or do you want, like, a ten count?”

When Trevor looks around, he realizes that he’s the only one staring at the four people. Quinn’s facing forward, debating a new circuit with Luke. Cole is tossing a piece of popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it. 

“Three’s fine,” Bea replies, bringing a lime up to her own lips.

“Whenever you’re ready, Coley,” Jack adds, fitting his hand into the curve of Bea’s waist. He stares down at her and she stares right back, the air between them heated. 

Trevor looks back at Honey and Jamie, at the way Jamie is slightly bent over so that his eyes are even with Honey’s. She carefully reaches her arm up and removes his ball cap, turning it backwards atop her own head. She smiles at Jamie when she does so, and Trevor’s vision turns red at the edges. 

That’s his smile. Honey is his girl, not Jamie’s.

Cole starts to count down from three, and Trevor can’t look away. When Cole says “go!”, Jack licks the salt off of his hand and lunges forward to retrieve the shot glass from Bea’s cleavage, throwing his head back and downing the liquor without using his hands. Bea reaches up to remove the glass from his mouth, then his teeth bite into her lime. He spits it out after the citrus bursts over his tongue and it lands with a plop on the floor, but neither of them care. Bea’s eyes are wide when Jack’s lips close over her own and his tongue slips into her mouth, but they quickly flutter shut and she pulls him close.

Quinn is not looking. If he was, Trevor thinks he might rip Jack’s hair out.

Jamie is much more delicate with his body shot, taking his time. Trevor grinds his teeth, watching how Honey’s eyes sparkle as they take in the dark-haired boy in front of her. She inches forward a little when Jamie laps at the salt on his hand, then she pushes her chest out so he can take the glass from her body with ease. Jamie brings his hand to his mouth to take the glass out, setting it neatly on the edge of the table beside Honey, and leans in, plucking the lime from Honey’s mouth. He pulls away from her, giving her a goofy lime-rind-covered smile and Honey matches it.

Trevor is aghast– his mouth is wide open and he’s staring at the big hand that’s palming Honey’s thigh. He wants to rip Jamie’s hand off of her skin and replace it with his own, lean in and kiss her the way that Jack is kissing Bea.

Fuck, why didn’t he listen when Bea called his name? Why did he send Jamie over to see what they needed? That could’ve been him between Honey’s legs.

He’s never playing Mario Kart again.

The moment is over in under a minute, but Trevor feels like he’s been watching it for years on end. He can feel the muscles on his face clenching, his eyebrows narrowing at the sight of his ex-best friend and his girl so close together. 

In an instant, Honey is looking at him, and Trevor just knows that she’s startled by the anger she sees written all over his face. She looks at Trevor, then to Jamie, then back to Trevor. Her lips part and her chest heaves, but Trevor refuses to let his eyes fall. No, he’s keeping his gaze locked on Honey’s until she starts to squirm, feeling behind her for her shirt and pulling it on.

She looks at Trevor again when she’s finished covering herself up, and Trevor nods. 

Then he stands and goes upstairs, locking himself in his bedroom and punching his pillow until he feels better (and until the pillow stops bearing a striking resemblance to Jamie’s face).

20:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes in an unfamiliar bed, groaning at the soreness of her muscles. It’s a twin sized bed, smaller than the one she has at home, and she feels squished. It was this or the couch, and Honey didn’t want to sleep on the couch, so Jamie took that instead. 

She was too drunk to drive home last night, even though it’s less than ten minutes on the road and she knows this mountain by heart. She slept at the boys’ house, in the spare room. Jamie had found a big shirt for her to wear and helped her pull it over her head. He had messily braided her hair out of her face, then wished her goodnight, and left the room.

That was it. 

Honey’s stunned by how gentlemanly it all was, even now, hours later.

She didn’t dream the night before– she never does when she goes to bed drunk. 

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and sways with dizziness, blinking hard to clear the spots of darkness from her vision. The sun seems to be just peeking over the mountains, bright and harsh against her eyes, even when they’re closed. 

“Ugh,” she mutters, knowing that now that she’s awake, there’s no way she can fall back asleep. Her stomach growls, loud and embarrassing even though she’s the only person in the room. She clutches at her middle, rubbing over the skin to soothe it. 

Honey stands, taking a moment to gather her bearings. The hangover is hitting her hard, even though she didn’t drink that much. 

Well.

After Trevor stormed upstairs, Honey was upset and annoyed. She let Jack mix her drinks until Bea dragged him upstairs, and then she employed Cole as her personal bartender. 

Together, they learned that Cole is a terrible mixologist, but he is able to juggle. He and Honey tossed a lime back and forth for almost an hour without dropping it, all the while giggling and chatting. When Honey finally dropped the lime, Cole grabbed three and threw them up in the air, laughing until he figured out how to stagger the limes properly. 

She had almost fallen asleep on the couch, tucked into Luke’s side. She had crawled up to him and tousled his curls with a pout on her face before turning and facing the TV to watch the movie he had thrown on. She also remembers Quinn snorting with laughter after Honey laid her head on Luke’s shoulder, to which she had slurred: “What are you laughing at?”

Before she could slur out something embarrassing and mean about Bea hooking up with Jack instead of Quinn, Jamie had appeared in front of her and helped her up, saying that it was late and she looked ready for bed. 

Everything else comes to her in little flashes and there are gaps missing. Honey’s not too concerned. She’s never been an embarrassing drunk.

Plus, after three weeks, she might actually consider these guys to be her friends.

Honey wanders upstairs to the kitchen, finding a pot of fresh coffee in the maker and pouring herself a mug. She finds milk in the fridge and cereal in the cabinets, pouring herself a bowl. With her cereal in one hand and her coffee in the other, Honey approaches the sliding glass door to the balcony. 

She makes it to the door and frowns to herself, trying to find a way to open the door without putting down one of her items. 

As she’s tucking her mug into her elbow, burning herself a little bit on the ceramic, Jamie appears on the other side of the door.

He jumps back a little, just like Honey does. They both let out a laugh at their mirrored actions, and Jamie reaches out to slide the glass door open. 

“Coming to join me?” He asks.

“What are you doing up?” Honey asks at the same time.

They laugh again. 

“I did a quick workout this morning,” Jamie explains. “I missed my practice yesterday, so I wanted to get up and get some extra work in.”

“Cool,” Honey muses, setting her cereal bowl on the armrest of one of the rocking chairs. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be up.”

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Jamie says. “You were pretty out of it last night.”

Honey crinkles her nose. “Was I?”

“It’s not every day that Luke has a pretty girl trying to figure out his curl pattern from touch alone.” Jamie smiles, lines appearing on his cheeks, but not dimpling like Cole’s. 

“Well, if that’s the worst thing, at least I remember it,” Honey replies. She eats a spoonful of her cereal, waving her spoon towards Jamie. A splash of milk flies at him, but he brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “You were really quiet last night,” Honey notices. “Why is that?”

“These guys aren’t, like… my guys,” Jamie explains, shrugging and making a face. “Trevor knows that I’m not the best with this crowd, but he said he needed an ally. So, I came as fast as I could.” 

“Why don’t you like the guys?” Honey asks, furrowing her brow.

Jamie shrugs again. “Jack doesn’t like how quiet I am, Cole and Luke like Jack more than me ‘cause they've known him longer, so that makes sense, and Quinn just doesn’t really like to stray from his normal group of friends.” 

“Well, what about Trevor?”

“We’re close because we were on the same team in California. We became fast friends when I was drafted to the Ducks, but I’m not childhood friends with Trevor like the other guys are. Now, I’m in Philly, so Z and I aren’t even together all the time anymore.”

“Does he prioritize Jack over you?”

“Jack’s needier than me,” Jamie explains, shaking his head. “Trevor tends to him more. It’s really important to keep Jack happy.”

“I’ve noticed that he can be a little… full of himself,” Honey agrees.

“Yeah.” Jamie cracks a smile. “I’m a little easier to get along with, I think.”

Easier.

It triggers something in her. Honey straightens up like an electric current ran through her. 

“Do you want to go on a hike, Jamie? With me?” She asks, the idea clicking in her head half-formed.

The easiest way to get over someone is to get under someone else, Bea says. 

They can talk and get to know each other. It’ll be like another workout for Jamie, making up for the missed practice even more. Plus, Honey wants something easy. She wants to be as happy as Quinn and Bea. Jamie’s sweet and they clicked last night, and she wants to learn more things about him. He’s not as volatile as Trevor and Honey doesn’t think that he would upset her as much as Trevor does, all the time.

“Just the two of you?” comes the voice from behind Honey, the creak of a floorboard signaling the arrival of another person.

Honey spins around in her chair, looking at the sliding door. Of course, it’s Trevor. Just when she thinks about him, he appears, and of course he heard her invitation. His tone is a little judgmental, a little sad, and a little hopeful. 

“Just the two of us,” Honey doubles down, pummeling all hope Trevor had of joining them.

Jamie smiles at Honey, grateful that she’s willing to prioritize him over everyone else in the house and willing to invite him out. “That would be awesome, thanks, Honey. I’ll go pack some waters and make some sandwiches.”

He stands from his chair, then reaches down and clasps Honey’s hand, giving it a squeeze before walking back into the house. 

Trevor watches Jamie walk past him through the balcony door, then turns back to Honey. 

“You can’t go out with him,” Trevor says.

“Why not?” Honey asks, affronted. 

“Because he’s not me,” Trevor replies.

“I know. That’s why I should go out with him. He wasn’t afraid to full-send a body shot, unlike you. He also helped me to bed when I was drunk last night, and you locked yourself in your bedroom because you were pouting,” Honey bites back, still stewing about the way Trevor had ignored Bea's wave over. 

She really had wanted Trevor to take the body shot off her, wanting to test their chemistry again after the whipped cream incident. She had expected him to want to do the same. She was wrong, again, and she hates being wrong. 

“Jamie isn’t very wishy-washy about his intentions, Trevor.”

“Do you want to know my intentions?” Trevor demands. “I intend to get you to go out with me. I intend to make you like me. I’m not going to ruin that by rushing into this too fast. I saw how you looked the other night.”

Honey blanches at Trevor’s words. “Don’t bring that shit up.”

“Honey, you ran out of the house and took Bea with you. You looked horrified,” Trevor presses.

“Does it look like I’m reacting the same way now?” Honey replies, incredulous. “Clearly, things have changed and you need to accept that. I’ve decided I want something different, Trevor.”

“Like Jamie.”

Trevor’s voice is chilling. His volume is low and definite. He glares at Honey, crossing his arms over his chest. He bites his tongue and taps his foot. 

Honey looks him up and down, a little nervous at the sudden change up. Did she go too far?

No, she decides. She hasn’t gone too far. Trevor won't let her run away from this right now, and she has to get him to let her go. She hasn’t gone far enough.

“Yes, like Jamie,” Honey confirms. She crosses her own arms over her chest. 

Trevor glares at Honey a moment longer, and his anger flashes, but Honey catches a glimpse of resignation.

“Fine,” Trevor spits out, shaking his head. “Do what you want. Don’t let me or my feelings fucking stop you.”

Honey opens her mouth to retort, but he’s already closing the balcony door behind him.

She doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Honey returns to the kitchen and dumps her cereal down the sink, turning on the garbage disposal. Jamie asks if she wants anything particular on her sandwich, and she says no. She walks to Jack’s room, remembering where it was from Cole’s tour, and knocks quietly. 

There’s no movement inside, so Honey cracks the door open. She sees Bea stir and blink an eye open, becoming more alert when she spots Honey in the doorway. Jack lays fast asleep, his arm over Bea’s stomach.

“I’m going hiking with Jamie,” Honey whispers. 

“Okay,” Bea mouths. She side-eyes Jack, then widens her eyes at Honey.

“How was it?” Honey says, voice still low. She’s wary, knowing that look.

“So. Fast.” Bea rolls her eyes back and sticks her tongue out, pretending to be dead. “I need to go to Quinn’s room.”

Honey snickers behind her fingers, a loud snort escaping her.

Bea opens her mouth in a silent scream, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She has to squeeze her eyes shut and mouth “Go away!” to Honey so that she doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy beside her. 

Honey slips from the room and meets Jamie down by the front door, a backpack on his shoulders full of water and their lunch. He tells her that he even packed a blanket for when they stop to eat, so they don’t have to sit on the ground. 

She spots Trevor over his shoulder, the back of his head unmoving, but Honey can tell that he’s still seething. She feels a pull to him, wanting to brush a kiss behind his ear and tell him that she’ll be back soon, but the feeling is overtaken by guilt and she almost gags. 

That’s right– she’s still hungover. 

“We’ll just have to stop by my place really fast so I can get into some hiking clothes,” Honey tells Jamie, sliding her shoes on and grabbing her keys from the table next to the door. 

Trevor releases a breath and seems to shake his head, listening in on them. Honey wobbles a little bit at the noise, frowning deeply. She grasps the door handle and allows Jamie to lead the way out of the house, relishing in the fact that she can slam the heavy door behind her and show Trevor that he’s not bothering her. 

Jamie talks a little bit on the drive and offers to wait in the vehicle while Honey changes inside. She comes back in athletic shorts and an old wrinkled practice jersey from Bea’s volleyball days. It’s supposed to be a hot day, otherwise Honey would be wearing one of her favorite ratty tees and her best leggings. The jersey falls like a muscle tee and she knows Jamie can see her black sports bra when she walks, but it’s no different than when Trevor felt over the lace around her ribs last Friday.

They go to Honey’s favorite spot, twenty minutes up the road. A few years ago, she got really into running and used to run this trail all the time. It’s two and a half miles up to the outlook from the parking lot, so she figures that she and Jamie can hike up and stop for lunch at the top.

“I have a proposal for you,” Honey says. 

“What’s up?” Jamie asks, hooking his backpack over his shoulders and making sure his shoes are tied. 

“Tell me about you on the way up and I’ll tell you about me on the way down.” Honey presents the idea with a big smile, shrugging enticingly at Jamie. 

“Like what?” 

They start to make their way toward the mouth of the trail, and Jamie motions for Honey to go first.

“I don’t know. Where’d you grow up? What’s your family like? What’s the deal with you guys and hockey? Stuff like that,” Honey says, looking ahead of her but calling over her shoulder. “I’ll lead the way up and listen, and then you can lead the way down and ask me whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Jamie agrees. “I grew up in Toronto, moved to California when I was drafted, lived with Z for a while. That was fun. I was traded to Philly this past year and I’ll be playing there for a while, I guess.”

“What do you like most about Toronto?” Honey asks.

Jamie responds and they trek on, filling the trail with the sounds of soft steps and chatter. They reach the peak in a little under an hour and a half, making great time. Jamie sets out the blanket for them facing the rest of the mountains, and Honey sits cross-legged on the edge of the fabric. She toes her shoes off and leaves them off to the side, giving her feet a rest. 

Jamie hands her a sandwich and a water, which they eat in silence. After finishing the first half of his sandwich, Jamie pauses, leaning back on his hands. He looks out over the horizon, squinting at the brightness of the sun. He adjusts his white ballcap on his head, trying to shade himself from the light a bit.

“It’s really pretty,” Jamie says. “I get why you would want to live here.”

“It’s the best place in the world,” Honey says simply, following his gaze. She breathes in, feeling the fresh, crisp, mountain air fill her lungs. 

She looks over at Jamie and he meets her there, smiling softly. His eyes glint in the sun and Honey notices his freckles, sprinkled all across his nose and the apples of his cheeks. They break eye contact simultaneously, looking back out. Honey adjusts so she’s sitting the same way Jamie is, leaning back on her hands. 

“You can see so far,” Jamie observes.

Honey nods. “Yeah. My dad used to say that if you could count ten rows back, then you could see all the way to Tennessee. That was at my house, so maybe it’s eight here.”

They pause and Jamie raises a hand, pointing at each layer and counting quietly. He points to a faded, barely visible row to the right of Honey’s vision. “Nine,” he says confidently. “We’re practically in the central time zone already.”

His hand drops, next to Honey’s. His pinky covers hers, splayed out on the blanket. 

Honey’s stomach flips a little bit and she feels the tips of her ears grow hot. She bites back a grin and looks down at her lap, then reaches for her bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Can I start asking you questions yet?” Jamie teases, knocking his shoulder against hers, tilting his head down to catch Honey’s eye. “Or do we have to wait until we’re actually walking down the mountain?”

“Whatever you want, Jam,” Honey says. 

Jamie teases her, forming an ‘o’ with his mouth and wiggling his eyebrows. “Whatever I want.” He grins.

“You sound like Bea.” Honey rolls her eyes and lengthens her neck from side to side, hoping to crack it.

“Let’s start there,” Jamie suggests. “How did you guys become friends?”

“We met in preschool. She had a pack of pink markers and a boy named Will stole mine because he was a dick and Bea shared hers.” Honey smiles fondly at the memory. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

“You still have beef with this Will kid?”

“Absolutely, he sucks.”

“Was that here? In Litchton?”

Honey’s smile fades. She pauses, then shakes her head. “No, we grew up in Charlotte. Litchton was my dad’s vacation home when he was a kid and he wanted me to have a similar experience as him.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you and your dad close?”

Honey grimaces. Jamie doesn’t know. He’s just asking about Honey’s past, the same way Honey asked about his on the walk up here. He doesn’t mean any harm.

“Um… we used to be,” Honey replies. She looks back out at the mountains. “When Bea and I chose to move up here, I bought the house from my dad for a cheaper price– I spent every paycheck for like a year on the place, plus all the money I had saved up from my high school job, and most of Bea’s paycheck since she was living with me. We stayed in touch until I handed him the last check.”

Jamie hums, listening intently. It’s a neutral sound, non-judgmental. Honey’s lips quirk up and she continues.

“My parents didn’t love when I decided to move up here and decline my college acceptances. I wasn’t willing to budge and neither were they, so we… lost touch.” Honey trails off, taking a deep breath.

“Do you miss them?” Jamie asks, thoughtful. “Do you miss Charlotte?”

“I miss them on, like, my birthday.” Honey shrugs. She extends her legs and crosses her ankles. Her fingers twitch under Jamie’s. “Their anniversary, and whatnot. As for Charlotte, I don’t miss that place at all.”

“Not a city girl?”

“Not at all. Charlotte was too rigid for me. People are busybodies there and they have great jobs and drive nice cars and go to good schools… I just wanted to live somewhere where I could relax and no one would bat an eye.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, nodding. He frowns, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. “I get it.”

They sit in silence a little longer and Jamie moves his hand so it completely covers Honey’s. She smiles and turns her head to the right, away from Jamie. She bites her tongue between her teeth and takes a deep breath. Her stomach is flopping all over the place.

God, does Bea feel like this all the fucking time? It’s miserable.

“Here’s a lighter question,” Jamie chuckles, shuffling closer to Honey. “What curl pattern did you decide on for Luke?”

Honey throws her head back laughing, pulling her hand out from under Jamie’s and reaching for her shoes. “I think it’s time we head back down,” she says. “Since you’re starting to ask me questions that I can’t answer.”

“Do you mind if I take my shirt off? It’s hot out here,” Jamie complains, removing his hat from his head with a dazzling grin and placing it on Honey’s head. “Hold that for me, will you?”

“I don’t mind,” Honey replies, fixing the hat on her head. She grins over at Jamie, then reaches down to tie her shoelaces again.

Jamie pulls his shirt over the back of his head, stuffing it into his backpack. He takes Honey’s trash and his own, pushing them into the side pocket of his bag, then sliding his water bottle on top of them. 

Honey helps him pack up the blanket and they head down the mountain. Jamie peppers her with questions, both easy and funny and hard and deep. He makes her laugh, he makes her think, and they have fun. 

They make a good pace and Jamie does a good job of leading the way. He stops with half a mile to go, and Honey bumps into him, trying to watch her step.

“What?” Honey asks, peering around him to see if there’s something blocking the way. 

Jamie turns to face her and Honey gets an eyeful of pale torso due to their proximity. She looks up at Jamie, stepping back. She stumbles back, tripping over a root, and Jamie catches her waist, steadying her.

He opens his mouth in question, then closes it. He looks down at Honey’s lips and she feels her mouth go dry. His eyes are wide, clear, and light and they’re regarding Honey, swirling with an unidentifiable emotion. 

Honey takes in a breath. 

“New question,” Jamie murmurs.

Honey nods, and Jamie’s other hand sweeps her hair off her shoulder, thumbing the side of her neck.

“I really want to kiss you.”

“That’s not a question,” Honey comments, voice hushed.

Jamie licks his lips, breathing out a laugh. “Can I kiss you?” he corrects.

Honey gulps, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her hand makes its way to Jamie’s traps, his muscle hard beneath her palm. His skin is pinking a little bit, affected by the sun and the heat, and Honey tilts her head. It’s peculiar. She just feels… like she’s an inch out of place.

She looks into his eyes and he’s gazing at her so patiently that Honey can’t help but lean up and slot her bottom lip between his. 

There’s relief washing over her, taking all the tension from her shoulders. She loses herself in the kiss, overwhelmed by how good it feels to be doing this.

It’s not because of Jamie, Honey realizes. It’s because she’s finally ready to do this sort of thing again. Maybe she is looking for this, searching hard.

He swipes his tongue across Honey’s bottom lip and she opens for him. Honey brings her hand from his traps up into his hair, raking through the strands. He smiles against her lips and Honey repeats the motion.

And then it hits her again– she’s just an inch too far to the left. This isn’t right. 

There’s nothing wrong, Honey reassures herself, using Jamie’s hair as a crutch to keep her in place. It fails, because the strands are too short and too thin and too straight, and it all clicks.

Honey pulls away.

Aw, hell.

“Jamie,” Honey sighs, closing her eyes. She bites her lip and covers her eyes with one of her hands. 

“Nope, it’s okay,” Jamie replies, surprisingly upbeat. He plucks his hat off Honey’s head, hiding his own hair underneath it. He wraps his arms around Honey’s shoulders and drops a kiss on her head. “I know that tone.”

Honey groans, frustrated. She presses her face into Jamie’s pec, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“I have my next question for you,” Jamie teases, poking her arm when he pulls away.

“What?” Honey snaps, miserably.

“How long have you been fucking Trevor?”

“Fuck off,” Honey mewls, sagging like the weight of the world just fell on her shoulders. 

“Nah, I saw that look between you two.” Jamie grabs Honey’s hand and starts to lead her along the trail again.

She follows, rolling her eyes and shaky on her legs. “I’m not fucking Trevor.”

“Why not?”

Honey opens her mouth, then stumbles when she realizes she has no answer for him. She thinks, searching her mind, and she misses the smirk that grows on Jamie’s face with each minute of passing silence. 

Honey still doesn’t have an answer when they make it back to the mouth of the trailhead, parking lot visible. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers when Jamie comes to a stop, swinging his backpack around to his front and digging for Honey’s keys. 

He looks up at her through his lashes, pausing. Then, his lips pinch like he’s trying not to laugh. “Maybe you should,” he suggests.

Honey pauses, her brain feeling fried. “Yeah,” she agrees, the word forming slowly in her mouth. 

Jamie fishes the keys out and unlocks the car. He pulls his shirt out of the bag, then hesitates. “It would kill him if I drove us back to the house shirtless,” Jamie considers. He looks up at Honey, waiting.

Honey feels a smile start to take over her face. “Don’t fucking wear that shirt back.”

Jamie breaks out in laughter and opens the passenger door for Honey, helping her into her own vehicle. He rounds the car and starts it up, dropping a hand on Honey’s knee. He gives her joint a squeeze and flashes a dazzling smile. “He’s cooked.”

Honey laughs and rolls the window down, feeling the wind dance over her face as Jamie starts to drive down the mountain. 

When they pull into the driveway, the boys are skating along the patio. Cole’s trying to do a backwards one-legged glide, and keeps wobbling off the concrete. Jamie comes to a stop a good ten feet from the boys, leaning over Honey to open her door from the inside of the vehicle. As Honey steps out, he unbuckles and rounds the vehicle, pressing the keys into her hand. He wraps an arm around her neck in a hug and pulls her forehead to his lips, pecking it quickly. 

“Make sure you give me a wave on the way out,” Jamie conspires in a whisper, then pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Bring Bea.” He walks backwards away from her, pointing in farewell.

Honey goes to the driver’s side of the vehicle and climbs in. Quinn skates up next to the car, tapping for her to roll down the window. 

“What’s up?” She asks.

Quinn just nods for a few seconds before he answers, pressing his lips together. “Bring Bea tomorrow,” he repeats. 

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

“Tell her I found the stopwatch she wanted.”

Honey laughs aloud at that, looking over to Jack. Quinn’s follows her gaze and snickers. 

“Figures,” he says.

“Bye, Quinn,” Honey bids, and shifts the car into drive. 

He waves and skates away, and she inches forward. 

The rest of the boys part the driveway for her. Cole waves goodbye enthusiastically, and Jack, Luke, and Trevor just stand there. Honey looks back and finds Jamie, raising her hand with a smile. As she pulls away, her eyes slide over Trevor and she can’t hide the smug grin that overtakes her face at the sight of him.

He has no idea what’s coming.

21:90 – TREVOR

Trevor hasn’t talked to Jamie since before he left for his hike yesterday. He’s wallowing, admittedly, and the boys are getting a kick out of it. Trevor was consoled by the fact that no one else saw the body shot last night except Jack, but Jack had to preach his tale of triumph to the crowd. 

Over brunch, after walking Bea to the door– Quinn was waiting in the car to drive her home– Jack launched into a dramatic recreation of the event, using Cole as his mannequin. He didn’t do an actual shot, nor did he touch Cole’s body the way he did Bea’s. Cole even puckered up, pretending to hold a lime in his mouth, but Jack didn’t kiss him.

Cole feigned disappointment until Trevor laughed, then he just hopped off the counter and kept eating his food. 

After brunch, Cole and Luke filled Trevor and Jack in on what they missed after they disappeared upstairs the previous night: Cole learned how to juggle, Luke and Quinn watched a movie, and Jamie took Honey to bed when she cuddled up into Luke’s side and pushed her fingers through his hair, slurring about curl patterns.

“‘Righ’now you’re a 2C, but we can make your hair pretty like a 3B if y’use the right products an’ procedures,’” Cole mocked, making sure to slur his words and hiccup over the longer syllables. 

Trevor had tried not to smile at their caricature of Honey, but the thought of the girl slurring and falling over herself and still using words like ‘procedures’ made Trevor feel warm inside. 

Luke just blushed and shook his head at the mockery, grinning to himself and rubbing the back of his head. 

Shortly after, Quinn had joined them again and proposed that they skate around a bit. They weren’t playing road hockey or anything, so the skating became a game of driveway tag until Cole got mad that he couldn’t catch anyone and quit. He started trying to do figure-skating tricks instead, and the rest of the boys just hung out.

Trevor had felt fine until Jamie pulled up in Honey’s car, behind the wheel and shirtless. Honey had looked a little dazed and pink in the cheeks, but Trevor blamed it on the heat. Who hikes in this weather? 

He had bit his tongue when Jamie opened the door for Honey, leaning over her. He had clenched his jaw when Jamie gave Honey a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and scowled when Honey waved goodbye to Jamie, and only Jamie. Then, she had had the audacity to smirk at Trevor when she drove away.

So, suffice to say, Trevor wasn’t all that interested in what happened on the hike. He wasn’t excited that Jamie was in town anymore, he wasn’t in the mood to congratulate Jack on bagging Bea– although he did notice the smirk that Quinn tried to hide when Jack brought it up again, and he was not looking forward to the next time Honey and Bea hang out with them.

Which, apparently, is today.

Jamie had invited Honey over for a fun, lazy Sunday at the house and he had told her to bring Bea along. 

Quinn was the one who revealed the plan to Trevor when he came up to Trevor around noon and asked him very quietly if he would text Bea on Quinn’s behalf.

In the end, the message said “Quinn wants to know what time you’re coming over? He says he has your stopwatch. Also, GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER ALREADY SO I DON’T HAVE TO BE YOUR MESSENGER PIGEON!”

Bea texted him back within minutes and said: “Just got out of church u ratty bitch don’t tell me how to live my life” and “H and I are coming over at like 3 we need to debrief the Jack thing from last night first.”

“Why do you have to debrief? Was he bad”

“he wasn’t BAD”

“... He came early didn’t he”

“No comment. Leave me alone this is why I can’t give anyone else my number… bc you’re BLOWING UP MY DAMN PHONE!!!!!”

Trevor didn’t dignify Bea with a response then, but it’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon now, and the girls still haven’t shown up. Trevor is getting impatient and the other boys are getting antsy, tired of waiting for the girls to show. Cole has started pacing, mumbling about how they could’ve done something in the time they’ve spent waiting. He blames Trevor for it and bothers him until he puts down his book, which is still very good, and texts Bea again.

“Tick tock Bea”

Bea laughs at the message, but doesn’t give Trevor a real response until he asks if they want Quinn to cook dinner for them: “yes we’re leaving now”

Trevor passes the message along and Quinn adds two burgers to the grill. Trevor reopens his book and dives back into the world of astronomy. 

Quinn’s burgers are done and plated in fifteen minutes, ready for the boys to descend on the platter and assemble their burgers. 

The girls arrive just as Trevor sits at the dining room table with Luke and Cole. They wave into the dining room as they pass it and Trevor notices that Bea is still wearing her sundress from church, while Honey is wearing some red gingham shorts and a tiny little tank top. There’s a little sliver of her lower back showing as she walks away and Trevor swoons. 

He covers it up by biting into his burger and starting at one divot on the wooden table. 

Quinn joins them soon after and sits at the head of the table. He starts eating silently, ignoring the other boys. Bea and Jack walk into the room together and sit down at the only two seats next to each other that are left open– the one next to Quinn and the empty one next to it. 

Bea sits between the brothers and Trevor smirks into his burger, chewing the meat and eying the girl. She catches his gaze and glares at him, a deathly look that doesn’t bother Trevor in the slightest. Bea can’t do any harm to him– all of her looks are just empty threats. Maybe if Trevor were hooking up with her, he’d be a little more afraid, but that will never happen.

When Jamie and Honey enter the room, giggling quietly between the two of them, Bea turns Trevor’s smirk against him and sticks her tongue out before taking a sip of her water. 

Luck is on Trevor’s side, because the only two remaining chairs aren’t next to each other. There’s one on his left and one at the other head of the table between Luke and Cole. Jamie gestures for Honey to take her pick of the seats and, to Trevor’s disappointment, she walks toward the head of the table.

Jamie takes his seat next to Trevor and bumps into him good-naturedly, giving him a smile. Trevor side-eyes him and glares, taking another bite of his burger. 

They eat in silence for a little while, until Luke finishes his burger and throws his napkin atop his empty plate. 

“This is miserable,” Luke complains. “Can we do something?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing nothing all day and Trevor is getting on my nerves,” Cole agrees. 

Trevor places his burger on his plate and slams his hands down on the table. “Why me? I haven’t even done anything to annoy you.”

“You haven’t talked to me all day,” Jamie mumbles off-handedly, fixing the bun of his burger so it stops sliding away.

Honey coughs, then clears her throat. “You haven’t talked to Jamie all day?” She asks, frowning at Trevor.

Cole looks up to the ceiling and claps his hands together like he’s praying, his cheeks dimpling as he mouths a “thank you” towards the sky.

Trevor flashes a threatening finger at Cole and swallows the bite he’d been chewing. 

“No, I haven’t,” Trevor answers simply. He swallows again and intertwines his fingers, pushing his plate away. He lifts the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stay disinterested and annoyed, the same way he’s been feeling about Jamie since his hand found his way to Honey’s thigh on Friday night.

Honey’s lip curls and her nose crinkles, visibly ruffled. “What’s your problem?”

“Honey,” Bea interrupts, shaking her head with a pointed look. 

Jack throws his arm over the back of Bea’s chair. “No, I want to see this. Give it to him, Honey.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at Bea when Jack’s fingers brush her shoulder. Trevor notices his arm moving under the table, flexing like he’s reaching for Bea’s leg. Bea shrugs Jack off, pouting at Quinn. Quinn nods at the girl, then brings both his hands to his burger and lifts it to his mouth. He looks up at Honey, chewing. 

“Don’t jump in on this, Jack. It doesn’t involve you,” Honey snaps. “Quickshot.”

Cole’s jaw drops, then he claps both hands over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. 

“Oh, do you think this is funny?” Honey asks, rounding on Cole. “Do you really believe that your little honky ass is innocent? Should I bring up all the ways you’ve pissed me off these past few weeks?”

Cole freezes, paling.

Trevor knows that he’s only escaping Honey’s wrath temporarily, but it’s still a treat to see. Cole had been on Honey’s nerves since he thought up the whipped cream dare the week before, and Trevor is a little turned on seeing Honey gives Cole his comeuppance. 

“The only people in this house that haven’t pissed me off are Luke and Jamie, and you’re on thin fucking ice because you don’t talk to Jamie either,” Honey continues, pointing a finger at Luke.

He leans back, away from Honey’s finger, looking stunned. 

“Still feeling miserable, Luke?” Honey demands. “Or are things starting to look up for you?”

“Honey,” Bea repeats, harsher this time. She clears her throat, coughing loudly to mask the “enough” that slips from her lips.

Honey glares at Bea.

Now that’s a murderous look that Trevor never wants to receive.

Honey sits back in her chair and bites into her burger, chewing angrily as she places the burger back on her plate. She crosses her arms over her chest, then gestures at Trevor. 

“Jamie has spent more time trying to get to know me, and Bea, in the past two days than any of y’all have in three weeks,” Honey declares. 

Quinn opens his mouth to retort, but Honey holds a finger up to silence him and Bea rests a hand on his. He closes his mouth and goes back to his burger.

“Where am I from, Trevor?” Honey asks, calm and pointed. 

Trevor blinks, taken aback. “Here,” he replies, shrugging obviously. “You’re from Litchton. You’re a townie.”

“No. I’m not.” Honey merely states. She returns to her burger and eats it in silence.

Trevor stares at her, following her movements. His mouth is slightly open and his throat feels sort of dry. 

She’s right, Trevor thinks. I don’t actually know all that much about her.

Honey sneaks a peak at Jamie and smiles at him, then returns to her food.

Trevor pushes his plate even further away, not feeling hungry anymore. Luke grabs it and stacks his plate underneath Trevor’s, doing the same with Cole’s empty dish. He stands and takes their plates to the kitchen, scraping the leftover pieces into the trash and then starting to wash the dishes. 

“You know what we never did,” Bea says, breaking the silence and putting a positive spin on her words. She turns to Jack. “We never played Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“I could be down for Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Honey says, her voice a bit muffled as she tries to dig food out from between her teeth with her tongue.

“I’ll play too,” Jamie agrees, wiping his lips with a napkin and winking at Honey.

“That’s a really good idea,” Jack says, humming to himself. “I like how you think.”

Trevor doesn’t miss the way Bea glances at Quinn and holds a smile at bay. “Thanks, Jacky.”

Cole claps and stands, pushing his chair back. “I’ll get a bottle.”

“There’s an empty one downstairs,” Honey tells him. “We polished it off during the body shots.”

It’s like she’s trying to rile Trevor up on purpose. She’s sharing looks with Jamie, which makes Trevor want to act out to get her attention. She’s shooting retorts at each of the boys, which is making Trevor a little stiff in his shorts. She’s outspoken, finally coming out of her shell, and it’s affecting him.

But it’s also pissing him off because Trevor doesn’t enjoy being spoken to this way. He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s not doing as much as he could– the fact that he didn’t even know that Honey’s not originally from Litchton is a travesty. What’s next? She has a twin that he doesn’t know about?

And worse, Jamie is putting in the effort. He’s reaping the rewards, too, the rewards that Trevor should receive because he’s the one who flirted with Honey first. He knows that she’s attracted to him. He knows that she wants him. 

Trevor is fuming because she’s pushing her feelings away. Maybe she does think that Jamie is hot, but she’s throwing it back in Trevor’s face and flourishing it in a way that makes Trevor want to tear his hair out. She wanted Trevor first. Why is Jamie making it further than Trevor has? 

Why did Honey invite Jamie on a date instead of Trevor?

A date that Jamie didn’t even tell Trevor about. Trevor might not be talking to Jamie because he went on a date with Honey, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Jamie to tell him what happened on the date.

If he plays Seven Minutes in Heaven, there’s a 15% chance that he’ll get Honey alone, and then he can ask her. And he’ll have Honey alone for seven minutes. 

Trevor’s chubbing up at the thought of it.

“I’ll play,” Trevor adds, belated. Cole already has a foot out of the room and Honey is polishing off her burger. 

She flicks the crumbs off her fingers, in Trevor’s direction. “Joy,” she replies, sarcastic and biting. 

Trevor scowls when she smiles wide at Quinn and he returns the look.

Honey, Bea, Jack, and Quinn head downstairs to the basement to join Cole. Trevor and Jamie help Luke with the rest of the dishes. Luke grabs a beer from the fridge when they’re done and shuffles down the stairs himself, leaving Trevor and Jamie to grab the rest of the drinks.

They fill their arms and Jamie kicks the refrigerator door shut behind them. 

“Hey, man,” Jamie calls.

Trevor stops and turns to him at the top of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“You’ve gotta stop freezing me out. Honey hates it.”

Trevor grinds his teeth. “I don’t like how close you are with her.”

“Dude, I’m only here for a week. You have the whole summer. Me and Honey becoming friends is not the end of the world,” Jamie says, nodding at Trevor. He pushes past Trevor and descends into the basement, leaving Trevor to follow after him.

The crew rearranged the sitting area while the boys did the dishes upstairs. They pushed the coffee table up against the wall and moved the couches back so there’s plenty of room for everyone to sit on the floor. Jack and Cole are missing from the circle.

“Did you start without us?” Trevor asks.

Jamie passes drinks to Honey, Bea, and Quinn, sitting cross-legged in the circle next to Honey. 

Trevor takes the spot next to Luke, almost perfectly across from Honey. 

Bea nods. “Jack and Cole are in the closet.”

As if on cue, Jack storms out of the closet and Cole follows. 

“The whole thing about Seven Minutes in Heaven is that we have seven minutes to do whatever we want in the closet,” Cole carps, trailing just a step behind Jack. “I want to see if you manscaped before you hooked up with Bea!”

“I don’t want to show you my dick,” Jack retorts, plopping down in the circle and taking a beer from Trevor. He twists the cap off and takes a swig.

“Cole, if you spin and get me, I’ll tell you all about it,” Bea promises. “It’s not your turn, though. Jamie, go.”

“You’re so bossy, Bea,” Jamie teases. He spins the bottle in front of him and it nearly lands on the girl he just addressed, but it points to Quinn instead. Good-naturedly, Jamie continues. “Alright, Quinn. Let’s do this thing.”

“Go ahead and start that timer for me, sweet Bea,” Quinn murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek before shuffling to his feet. 

Bea glows a little at the contact and Trevor chortles when he sees the little necklace Bea’s wearing. It’s the same kind that Jim uses when he helps the boys train in Michigan. Trevor is not surprised that Quinn had an extra of the same kind lying around, one that he’s now giving to Bea. 

Honey watches the boys walk away, leaning back on one of her hands and taking a sip of her drink. “Do you think they’ll talk at all in there?” She asks, bottom lip still pressed against the mouth of the bottle in her hand.

“No way,” Cole jumps in. “They’re both so quiet.”

“I think they’ll both be very happy to sit in silence,” Bea agrees, sounding fond. “It’ll be a nice break for them.”

“Are you calling us annoying?” Jack teases, grinning at Bea.

“Well…” She trails off, coy.

“You, Cole, and Trevor at least,” Honey finishes, smiling so big that her tongue pokes between her teeth.

“Ha-ha,” Luke laughs, beaming a little.

Jack pouts.

Bea reaches out and pinches Luke’s cheek, which makes him blush and push her away. “Yeah, how could this sweet face be annoying?”

“Alright, cut it out,” Luke groans, but he’s still glowing at the compliment.

Seven minutes passes in a flash and before Trevor knows it, Jamie is putting his arm around Honey and pulling her into his side. She makes herself comfortable there and Trevor clenches his jaw, feeling like he could growl at the sight.

“Who wants to go next?” Jamie asks, looking around the circle.

“I’ll go,” Luke offers, reaching out to spin the bottle.

Mercifully, the neck of the bottle points at Honey and she has to pull away from Jamie. She stands and smooths out her shorts. They’re puffy and Honey can’t fix that, but Trevor loves that they reveal Honey’s long, smooth legs. He wishes that he were the only one in the room with her, selfishly, so that no one else would be able to get any ideas.

Jamie’s staring up at her too, biting his bottom lip and admiring the girl standing above him, and the only thing keeping Trevor from lunging at him is the fact that Luke is entering the closet with Honey instead of Jamie.

Honey holds her hand out for Luke to take. She pulls him to his feet and he stands, the inches he has on Honey seeming to dwarf her. 

“Jesus, you’re tall,” Honey notices, then leads Luke into the closet and shuts the door behind them. 

“Does Honey actually know anything about haircare?” Cole asks Bea, slighting the absent girl.

“She moonlights as a hairdresser,” Bea replies, playing along. “She used to cut my hair when we lived together.”

“You guys used to live together?” Trevor asks, genuinely curious. He can’t imagine that– Honey is independent and quiet, a lover of alone time. Bea is loud and cuddly and just as annoying as Cole, Jack, and Trevor are in her own eyes. 

On second thought, maybe they worked as roommates. Quinn is quiet and independent like Honey, but he’s taken with Bea. Even if she’s hooking up with other guys, it’s clear that she and Quinn have a special relationship.

“Yeah, we slept in the same bed for about a year,” Bea confirms, waving Jack off when his face brightens. “She hogs the covers.”

Bea reminisces for a couple of minutes about the year they spent in Honey’s house. Her stories are broken up by Jack and Cole’s probing questions. The timer goes off as she assures them that yes, she and Honey would make a beautiful pair, but neither of them are interested in each other like that. She calls for Honey and Luke and holds a finger to her lips when Jack goes to rag on the other girl, seeking more details.

“Quit,” Bea tells him. “Or I’m kicking you out of the game.”

Jack clamps his mouth shut and pouts, whining a little.

“I’m going next,” Bea decides, crawling forward to spin the bottle.

Trevor rolls his eyes, not seeing that Honey does the exact same when she sits down. Jack’s mouth quirks in a smirk as he eyes Bea’s chest, missing Quinn’s hand slide up the back of Bea’s thigh and rest just under the hemline of her dress.

Despite the scenarios that are no doubt running through both Hugheses’ minds, the bottle lands on neither of them. 

The mouth of the bottle stares at Cole, who lets a smile creep over his face. He stands and walks over to the closet, swinging the door open and holding it for Bea. “Ma’am,” he teases, sweeping an arm out to further emphasize the doorway.

“Loser,” Bea jibes, but she’s laughing when she hops up and pulls the hem of her dress a little lower. She curtsies when she makes it to Cole, then loops her hand over the collar of his shirt and pulls him into the closet, effectively closing the door behind them. 

Jack grumbles, eying the bottle in front of him. “I feel like that’s pointed more at me than it was at Cole,” he complains.

“Get a grip, dude,” Quinn says. “She’s sleeping with everyone, remember?”

Trevor and Luke laugh out loud, delighted in Quinn’s use of Jack’s own words against him.

Jack is stewing on the spot, clenching his fists and glaring at his older brother. Quinn is smirking and Luke reaches forward, pulling the bottle towards himself and out of the middle of the circle. Jack’s eyes flicker over to Luke, his gaze grim.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Jack reaches forward and snags Quinn’s shirt, whereas Quinn traps Jack in a headlock. They squabble and Honey scoots away from the two of them, burrowing into Jamie’s side. Trevor sees red when he wraps his arm around Honey’s waist and lifts her over his lap, setting her on his other side. Honey shrieks a little when she leaves the ground, her eyes wide with surprise when she stares up at Jamie.

Oh, he’s not special, Trevor could shout. I can do that easily!

“Do they do this often?” Honey asks when Luke reaches over and pulls his brothers apart. 

“They’re only allowed to fight if they haven’t gotten over their problem for three or more days,” Luke explains. “Mom didn’t want us to fight at all, but Dad said the forced hugs weren’t cutting it. This is only, like, the fourth time they’ve fought. The fight has a five-minute time limit.”

Quinn snickers, thumbing over his bottom lip and grinning devilishly at Jack. 

Jack is still grumbling, but his attention suddenly catches on the closet door. Bea is stumbling on her feet, holding a hand on the doorknob while her other is looped over Cole’s shoulders.

With all eyes on them, Cole just grins.

“We’re gonna go upstairs for a sec,” Bea says, a bit starry-eyed as she explains herself. Her cheeks are pink and one of her sleeves is slipping down, revealing her bra strap. 

No one speaks, but Cole sticks his tongue out at Jack and wiggles it. He tosses his head back with a laugh, then takes Bea’s hand and pulls her toward the stairs.

“We’ll be back!” Bea calls, allowing herself to be pulled up the stairs and out of sight.

For a moment, the air is still.

Then, Honey starts to giggle. She covers her mouth, but it does very little to muffle the endearing noises she’s omitting. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?” She asks Jack between laughs. “But you don’t see much coming, do you?”

“There’s a reason his nickname is The Cock,” Trevor adds, relishing in Jack’s annoyance. 

Honey’s eyes make their way to Trevor and she’s still giggling. Trevor shares a smile with her, then winks. The moment fades when she buries her face in Jamie’s shirt and Trevor remembers that they’re not the only two in the room.

“Are you calling me stupid?” Jack asks Honey, frowning.

Luke places the bottle back in the middle of the circle.

“No.” Honey shakes her head, blinking innocently at Trevor. “I would never call you stupid.”

Trevor’s breath seems to stop when Honey leans forward and spins the bottle. It spins quick, rattling on the ground before it comes to a stop. 

Honey frowns. “Well, that’s no fun,” she complains. “I don’t want to go in the closet alone.”

Jamie rubs her back. “Spin it again, who gives a shit?” He asks, looking around the circle. “Do any of you care if Honey gets another turn?”

“Why, you hoping it points at you?” Trevor hears himself reply, reaching up to itch his nose. He drops his hand back to his lap and tilts his head at Jamie.

“I should be so lucky,” Jamie replies easily, laying his head atop Honey’s for a moment. “She’s excellent company.”

There’s something about the way he says it. Trevor furrows his eyebrows, looking between Honey and the dark-haired boy. They’re too comfortable together. In an instant, it all clicks. Something happened between them on the hike yesterday.

Honey is already reaching forward to spin the bottle again, but Trevor’s gaze is fixed on Jamie’s. 

The look in Jamie’s eyes is pure arrogance. He’s bragging without saying a word and Trevor can practically hear Jamie’s voice in his head. I know something you don’t.

“Trevor.”

Honey’s soft voice snaps him out of it and her sweet smile causes all his suspicion and anger to fade away. Honey nods toward the bottle.

It’s pointed squarely at Trevor. There’s no question about it. The bottle doesn’t even consider Jack or Luke on either of Trevor’s sides– and Trevor mentally thanks whatever divine being controlled the spin of the bottle.

“This is gonna be funny,” Jack mutters to Jamie, who is now sitting next to him in Cole’s absence. “They’ve been beefing for weeks.”

“Yeah, we hate each other,” Honey agrees, climbing to her feet. “We’re going to pull a Hughes and scuffle for seven minutes.”

“Let us know who wins,” Quinn chirps, grabbing Honey’s hand as she passes him. He tugs her down and she bends at the waist, putting her ear next to his mouth. Trevor climbs to his own feet and catches the word “ankle” as it leaves Quinn’s lips.

Trevor shakes his head, smiling to himself. Honey’s a firecracker, sure, but she’d never actually beat him up.

He pauses, approaching the closet door. Wait.

Maybe she would.

Trevor looks at Honey and finds only sweetness in her eyes. He watches as she casts a look back at Jamie, then taking in the nod from the boy. 

And wouldn’t you know it, he’s mad again. Trevor enters the closet regardless, already feeling a little claustrophobic.

Honey closes the door behind them and plunges them into darkness.

It takes a minute for Trevor’s eyes to adjust. He blinks a few times, then Honey’s figure comes into view. She’s leaning against the back of the door, her arms crossed, and her head is tilted to the side. 

“Are you thinking about the best way to take me down?” Trevor asks. “You look like there’s something on your mind.”

“I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with you,” Honey replies. “You’re being so mean to Jamie. He misses you.”

“I’m not being mean to him,” Trevor argues.

“But you’re not talking to him, either,” Honey says. “He said you asked for him to be here, but now that he’s here, you’re acting like Jack.”

Trevor feels a flash of guilt run through his system and he slouches a bit. She’s right– he hasn’t really protected Jamie from Jack’s ire, but things didn’t seem so bad. Jamie is still hanging out with them. He’s just a quiet guy. He doesn’t really speak unless spoken to, and Trevor is normally the one who speaks to him, but he’s been so mad about Jamie and Honey. Trevor rubs his arm, feeling goosebumps prickle over his skin. 

“Why are you treating him like this?” Honey asks.

Because of you.

Trevor’s mouth opens immediately like he wants to tell his thought to Honey, but he knows it’s not a good enough explanation for the girl. She’ll resent it, even, that Trevor is treating his best friend poorly because of her.

“He got to touch you,” Trevor says.

Honey makes a face and a disapproving noise.

“He got to touch you the way I want to,” Trevor tries again. “He got to spend time alone with you.”

“Oh,” Honey breathes out, straightening up from the door. 

“Honey, I want that.” Trevor steps forward. He searches her face for discomfort, any sign that he’s going too far. “If you really want Jamie,” he says, forcing his words out. His throat feels like it’s closing up. “Then I want you to have him. I would be a bad friend if I got between you and him. Honey, I just–”

Trevor cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He looks down and runs his fingers through his hair, grinding his teeth.

“You what?” Honey asks, so quiet that Trevor can barely hear her. Her eyebrows are curved in concern and there’s dislike tugging at the corner of her lips. 

Trevor’s hands fall helplessly to his sides. He wishes he could touch Honey, that he could intertwine their fingers to ground himself.

“I thought you wanted me,” Trevor mutters, feeling his cheeks turn red at the admission. He cringes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I thought you lied the other day and that you were just holding back, but now you’re all close with Jamie and I guess I was wrong. I was wrong to assume there was something between us.”

“Trevor,” Honey laments. His eyes shoot open when the pads of her fingers come into contact with his hand and he’s surprised by how close she is. She looks sad, so sad, and Trevor mistakes her look for pity.

“I’m sorry about… all this,” Trevor says, looking away from Honey. He can’t meet her eyes like this. 

“Don’t be,” Honey says. She runs her thumb over his and the movement makes Trevor shiver. 

He pulls away. “But I was wrong, and more wrong to act the way I’ve been acting.” Trevor looks up to the ceiling, biting his tongue in hopes that the sharp pain will distract him from how foolish he feels.

Honey’s hands find him again, curving over his waist. They’re warm as they run down towards his hips and it makes Trevor squirm.

“You weren’t wrong,” Honey whispers. She shakes her head. 

Trevor’s eyes snap to hers. 

“You weren’t wrong,” She repeats now that she has his attention. 

Trevor feels her hands move again, her fingers inching into his waistband just like they did over a week ago. They’re just as delicate and careful, the pressure light enough that Trevor wants to beg her for more, but his voice is caught in his chest. He looks down, losing his breath at the sight of her fingers hooking over his shorts, tugging at them.

Honey drops to her knees effortlessly and Trevor gasps like he’s been shocked by an AED. 

Maybe he is being shocked by an AED. Maybe he died and they’re trying to bring him back to life. 

Honey tugs at Trevor’s shorts, inching them lower. 

He’s motionless, absolutely powerless when it comes to Honey. He can’t move. He’s frozen in place.

“What are you doing?” Trevor chokes out. One of his hands finds the shelf of board games next to him, scrambling for something to ground himself.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Honey says. She blinks up at Trevor through her eyelashes.

Trevor can see down her tank top. The space between her tits is like a void and Trevor is tumbling deeper and deeper into it. There’s no saving him. He might permanently warp the wood of the shelf with how hard he’s gripping it.

“You–” Trevor’s voice is high. He coughs. “I–”

“Have you thought about it?” Honey asks, tilting her head and licking her lips. “Did you think about this after Cole’s dare?”

Trevor can only nod. He didn’t think about this, but he thought about Honey. He dreamt about her. He yearned to feel her hands on him again, her tongue on his skin or in his mouth, but he never thought it would go down like this.

“We should thank him, really,” Honey says like an afterthought, her eyes raking down Trevor’s body until they fix on the tent in his shorts. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this that night.”

She leans closer, brushing her lips in an almost non-existent kiss over the front of Trevor’s shorts.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Honey continues. One of her hands inches toward Trevor’s bulge and he lets out an involuntary whimper, biting hard on his lower lip. Honey looks up at Trevor again and he wishes the lights were on so he could see her better. Her eyes are bright in the darkness, shining with desire, and Trevor might die. “Are you going to let me blow you, Trevor?”

Trevor keens, nodding. “Yes,” he gasps out. 

A smile creeps onto Honey’s face and she stares up at him for a second. She almost looks evil, drinking him in like a succubus.

But then her attention turns back to Trevor’s cock, so hard that he’s leaking from the tip and certainly moistening the fabric of his underwear. Honey drags his shorts down to his ankles, capturing the head of his cock in her mouth as soon as she frees him from the confines of his clothes.

Trevor groans, his mouth dropping open at the feeling of Honey’s warm, wet mouth closing around him. He almost weeps when she pulls away.

“You have to be quiet, Trevor,” Honey chastises. “The boys are just on the other side of the door.”

Trevor nods helplessly, unable to deny Honey. He wants this so bad. He’s needed her since the second he bumped into her at the fruit stand, scrolling on his phone and not paying attention. He’d do anything for her to take his cock in her mouth again.

Her hand finds his base, squeezing his shaft and pumping it in an easy rhythm. She traces the head of his cock over her bottom lip, rubbing it back and forth, and a little precum blurts out of his slit. She spreads the precum along her lips like a coat of lipgloss, then Honey’s tongue pokes out and licks the salty liquid away, closing her eyes and moaning lowly at the taste.

Trevor’s knees shake a little. If he wasn’t holding himself up, he’d collapse right on top of her.

“Tastes good,” Honey murmurs. For a second, Trevor feels like he’s impeding, like he wasn’t supposed to hear that, like he’s not supposed to be here– because this can’t be real.

All of those feelings fade away when Honey takes him in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in. Trevor’s other hand lurches forward like a marionette and he gathers Honey’s hair into a makeshift ponytail. He needs to see her face. He needs to see her eyes.

As if Honey knows what he’s thinking, her irises find his face. Trevor is stunned by how blown out her pupils are. They’re dark and wide and swirling with lust. Trevor loses himself, feeling his hips stutter forward.

Honey takes as much of him as she can, gagging on the length in her throat. Her gag squeezes Trevor and he whimpers, pulling on her hair. He’s close, he’s so close even though it’s been only a minute or two since Honey attached herself to his cock.

“Honey, fuck, I’m going to come,” Trevor whines, struggling to stay still and let her control the pace.

Honey pulls off, a line of saliva tying her mouth to Trevor’s dripping length. It breaks as she continues to pump him, thumbing over the tip of his cock. “Isn’t that the point?” She asks. She plants a chaste kiss over his slit, kitten-licking the opening with little flicks of the tip of her tongue.

Trevor groans, trying to keep his voice low like she wanted, but he’s not doing the best job. He brings his hand to his mouth and bites his knuckle, just as Honey lowers her head back down. She bobs on his length, sucking harshly and swirling her tongue in all the right ways to make Trevor unravel. As she lays her other hand on Trevor’s thigh, Trevor loses his breath. He pitches forward, shaking underneath her touch as he comes. Her thumb on his thigh is his anchor, keeping him from passing away then and there.

Marvelously, just when Trevor thinks that things can’t get any better, Honey swallows his come like she’d been starving. 

Trevor is speechless, unable to look away from Honey. He’s never come like that before, never been so completely overtaken by an orgasm that he can’t speak. 

Honey smirks and licks her lips, wiping her thumb on the sides of her mouth to clean up any stray fluids.

Trevor’s eyes are fixed on her mouth, her beautiful, beautiful mouth.

He sinks to his knees like he’s melting and plants his hands on her body, one on her waist and one cupping her jaw. He kisses her with everything he has, licking into her mouth and tasting himself until he’s breathless and lightheaded and has to pull away. Stars dance across his vision, framing Honey’s face. 

She’s dazzling. Trevor can barely remember that there was a time when he didn’t know she existed. He can’t imagine a time after her. He’s stuck in the current moment, where Honey is absolutely everything, and he leans in to kiss her again.

Honey presses a hand to his mouth, keeping him in place. 

Trevor’s lips are pursed in a kiss against her fingers and he frowns. 

“You need to pull your pants up before they open the door,” Honey tells him.

It’s like whiplash. Trevor feels slapped across the face by how quickly she recovered after that blowjob. He’s still moving slowly, like he’s not in control of all of his muscles because they’re so relaxed, but Honey is making her way to her feet. 

Trevor scrambles to meet her, rising to his normal height and bringing his bottoms with him. He tucks himself away and straightens his clothing. He watches Honey flick her hair out of her face and pull the strap of her tank top back into place. Trevor follows her hand, daring to look a little lower. He nearly drools at the sight of Honey’s hard nipples poking against the fabric of her top. 

Honey snaps her fingers in front of Trevor’s face. He’s dazed, but meets her eyes.

“This never happened,” Honey tells him, voice hard. She tilts her head down, prompting Trevor. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Trevor nods, feeling far away. Whatever Honey wants.

“Trevor,” Honey groans, reaching up to fix his hair. “I’m serious. You can’t tell the boys.”

“I won’t,” Trevor agrees, leaning into her touch. He’ll do anything Honey asks, just as long as he gets to kiss her again. He’d chop his hand off right now if that’s what she wanted, just so he could get another taste of her sweetness. He stares at her lips, truly stares, leaning forward again. He’s a breath away from her mouth when she pulls back, stepping away.

Trevor actually whines like a child at the loss of her. His hands feel empty without her skin underneath his palms and he’s running cold as her warmth steps away.

Honey shows him a little mercy with a slight smile and a breath of a laugh. “Pull yourself together, Trevor,” she says, a playful lilt in her tone. “You’re a mess.”

Jamie calls for Honey on the other side of the door and she opens it, the light stunning Trevor. It snaps him back into reality and the gravity of the situation dawns on him as he takes in the fluorescent light. He just came down Honey’s throat in a dark closet and kissed her so hard that his lips might be bruised and swollen. 

Then he agreed not to tell anyone, because he was so drunk on Honey that he lost control of himself.

Honey’s fine, seamlessly fitting back into the group and telling Quinn that she was the obvious winner of her and Trevor’s scuffle. She doesn’t give Trevor a second look.

He’s so fucked.

[playmiya]

chapter twelve: tha greatest moron of our life and times previous ⎯ masterlist ⎯ next

You're buzzing with excitement as you're sitting patiently at the dilapidated internet cafe, waiting for Spider-Man. To think that you were, quite literally, a walk away from the person that could get you your big break into the world of journalism had you ready to gnaw the table in anticipation. (You, for obvious health and safety reasons, don't, because you don't want to die a young death caused by a splinter infection.)

Instead, you patiently wait, finding it hard to focus on finding the arsonist as much as deciding how to play it with Spider-Man. As much as you wanted to devote your day to unmasking the hero by finding a list of suspects, you begrudgingly remembered your calling to the citizens of Tokyo as well, and hurried to this rendezvous spot in a backalley on Aoyama-dori.

"Calm down, you can do this," you exhale, trying to channel your inner broody, DGAF attitude that you'd usually need to tap into when being Vigilante. You re-calibrate your attention onto the Jurassic PC in front of you, scanning the shopowners forum of the complex that had recently been shut down.

One recent headline catches your eye, and you sigh upon clicking it since the computer nearly has an aneurysm accessing the site.

HATTORI K-MART DECLARES BANKRUPTCY, TO BE SHUT DOWN BY END OF MONTH. BIDS FOR EMPTY LOT TO BEGIN.

The name is familiar to you. You refer to the map on your lap, where you'd encircled the few buildings that had been completely scorched to rubble. The mart was one of them. Your brain latches onto these words, and you feel the familiar tug of intuitiveness that you get when you're onto a legit lead for an article. There was something here that you were missing.

Scrolling down to the comments, you're met with a flurry of replies of interest by businessmen, but one specifically catches your eye.

korigashi76: about time... enough payment defaults have been made. yet another sunk venture wwwwwww +56 -3 "Yet another sunk venture?", you read aloud, and squint your eyes. Hattori K-Mart's tax returns should be publicly available, along with the details of the person who ran it.

You're waiting for the computer to recover from the shock that comes from opening two tabs at once when the doorbell jingles open to reveal Spider-Man walking in, hands tucked into a brown jacket.

"Sorry. Had an urgent, er, thing," he says, dragging a wheelie chair towards you and sliding across the floor. You recover from the slight fright you felt, freezing up when you saw him, to clear your throat and wave him off.

"You're good. Hey, do me a favour and look up the shops that were completely burnt down by the arsonist. I think I have a lead," you say, your voice a little thick.

"Oh, thank God," Spider-Man groans, relief flooding his voice. "I was gettin' a bit sick of this case."

You're jittery now at the proximity by which he's near you, booting up the PC next to yours. That damn mask was practically begging to be pulled off, enticing you with the prospects of the life you've always dreamt of. You swallow the lump in your throat, choosing to focus on the glowing screen in front of you.

Thankfully, the tax returns load in front of you in a neat PDF before you can fantasise about yanking the mask off, and you squint in suspicion at the name that greets you at the top.

HATTORI K-MART CO. BOOTH #34, MINATO SHOPPING COMPLEX REGISTRATION NUMBER: 6548812A PROPRIETOR: ISHIDA, YUSUKE

That name... you'd seen it somewhere before. To be specific, you remember the face associated with it. A middle-aged man with a head full of jet-black hair, distraught. A not-so-quick Google search leads you to an interview taken minutes after the Shinjuku fire. Speeding through irrelevant clips and commentary, you finally come across the man.

"....And now, we're talking to one of the victims of this fire, whose shop, JV Sports Co., was just burnt down. Sir, sir, what do you have to say?", the reporter frantically asks in front of the cordoned-off building, smoke rising in streaks in the background as Yusuke Ishida's face takes up most of the screen.

Eyes red from smoke exposure, face sooty and hassled, tears well up in his eyes as he struggles to speak without his voice cracking.

"My shop...my precious shop, it's gone. It was a labour of love for me, and now it's been reduced to ashes," he laments, bravely sniffling as he's handed a tissue under the camera to wipe his eyes. "It was a haven for sports fans and the sole sustainer of my family. Now what should I do? Some hooligan's taken away my entire life from me! I beg the police, please find them and bring them to justice," he whines, finishing his statement and pushing the camera away from him to break down into wracking sobs.

This was convincing. Spider-Man, who'd been peering over your shoulders, whistles lowly. "That's a good actor right there. But a bad liar," he says, blowing a raspberry.

"He says that shop was his 'sole sustainer', but according to the business association records in Ginza, he's also the owner of a failed conveyor belt restaurant that was just hit with an eviction notice a month ago," Spider-Man explains, and your interests are piqued.

"How interesting. Here, even in the Minato complex, he's listed as the proprietor of the K-Mart that was just burnt to the ground."

"Convenient. Because that restaurant's in the dust now, too," Spider-Man counters, and for a second, the cogs turn in your head simultaneously.

"I think we've got our perp, Spidey," you say, with a small smile underneath your mask.

"That's what I was thinking too. But the motives don't add up," he contemplates, stretching back on the chair and tucking his arms underneath his head.

You hum.

Multiple sunken ventures, all now destroyed, connected to one man. He needs money, clearly. But what would burning down those plots get him? Revenge? Vindiction? What path would clearly lead him to money?

Spider-Man shoots up as if struck by heat lightning. "I've got it," he declares, proudly. "He's doing it to cash an insurance claim," he explains, and you gape, instantly feeling as though the puzzle pieces have fallen in place. An unexpected stroke of genius.

"Shit, that's it," you breathe lowly, pushing the chair back. "We gotta catch him before he can cash out," you agree, fumbling to switch the computer off.

Spider-Man is already one step ahead of you, shrugging his jacket on. You catch the peek of a keychain with the motif of a golden fox before he's shoving gloved hands into his pocket.

He looks back, and you can tell he's grinning under his mask. You, for the first time, feel a pang of guilt course through you.

"What're we waitin' around for then, partner?"

taglist: @diorzs @egoistars @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @dailyakira @giocriedpower @southernfrogprincesd @iiwaijime @punkhazardlaw @dazqa @gsyche@loverlunaire @milesmoralesluvs @thiisisntlovely @kuroppiii @ihatetakumi

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 34**

Again, sorry about chapter 33, I know if was a hard one! But as someone said, it bonded us and brought us together! And I cannot tell you how good it felt to finally post it and be able to talk about it even though I was really nervous people would be genuinely offended. But it's all good! No got angry (yet anyway...).

So we're past the worst of it and Frankie and his girl are about to leave the QZ so please enjoy their journey that led to me using Google Maps an extraordinary amount!

Series Master List

Chapter 35- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 8.8k

Getting out of Boston is scary, Frankie drives and dodges around the runners that are attracted to the noise of the car. You regret your decision to leave every minute of the drive but Frankie hasn’t met a vehicle he can’t safely push to its limits. When you dare to open your eyes again you’re speeding down an empty highway, the Boston suburbs disappearing behind you.

“That was fucking intense,” he huffs, glancing in the rear view mirror at the fading city skyline. “Let’s not do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie, but I really haven’t thought about where we should go,” you say, looking over at him as he drives, “I had no plan apart from getting you away from the QZ.”

“It’s ok, cariño, we’ll figure it out,” he slides his hand over to your leg, squeezing it lightly, “I’ll just get us as far as possible today, out into the countryside, and then we’ll see where we wanna go.”

“How far do you think we’ll get in this car?” you ask, looking over the small sedan. It wasn’t the sturdiest car even when it was new, and it wasn’t new when the outbreak happened.

“As long as we find petrol and it doesn’t blow a tyre, it should be fine. I hope,” Frankie gives the dash a gentle pat as if willing the car to hold itself together.

You fall silent for a few minutes, looking out through the window and the passing trees. You’ve passed Worcester and the landscape is changing. You’d forgotten how green it could be, the QZ was devoid of almost all plant life, all trees taken down for firewood, any park dug up for crops. But out here, on a bright May day, everything is so green it almost hurts. In the past ten years nature has taken over and when you drive through a forest it’s like being inside a tunnel of green, tall grass and thick bushes caging in the road and slowly creeping over it. In a few more years even the asphalt will be broken up by roots and plants, you can already see it in places.

The miles pass and you see less and less civilization and no sign of infected. Frankie makes sure to drive around any towns or cities, staying well away from any places that used to be populated. You leave Massachusetts and keep making your way west, after a few hours you reach Pennsylvania and one of the big state forests. The green hillsides remind you of Denny’s cabin, of the drive up there. You haven’t thought about it in years but now it seems like a haven.

“Could we go back to Denny’s cabin?” you ask, looking over at Frankie again, “Maybe it’s still untouched.”

“After all these years, I doubt it,” he says, shaking his head, “I did lock it when we left but someone’s bound to have found it, raiders or looters. And even before it would’ve been a two day drive, now, who knows how long it would take?”

“But we need somewhere really remote, maybe up towards the Canadian border?”

“Yeah, but past the Great Lakes first, too many people on this side,” Frankie says, “And not too far north, the winters are too harsh.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and you hear him inhale a couple of times, you know he’s getting ready to say something so you wait while watching his profile, his eyebrows knit together and he tightens his jaw.

“I gave the last pills to Joel,” he says, finally, “And the key to the apartment, to give to Will.” He glances over to you, “But I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me about the pills, I know I’ve lied a lot lately.”

“Frankie…” you begin and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to say anything, I’m just going to prove it to you, prove that you can trust me again,” he nods, more to himself than to you, “I’ll prove it to you, but,” he takes his eyes of the road again and looks at you, his eyebrows bunched up with nerves, “…the thing is, I’m already getting shaky, and I don’t know what shape I’ll be in once the withdrawals really kick in. I might need you to drive soon.”

“Of course, Frankie, whatever you need,” you put your hand on his leg and you can feel him trembling, “Pull over as soon as you find a good spot and I’ll take over.”

He nods and takes a deep breath, breathing out through his nose, “I don’t know how bad it’ll get, you remember last time, right?”

“I remember you being sick as a dog for a day, you couldn’t keep any food or water down,” you move your hand to his forehead, he’s starting to look pale and his skin is cold to the touch, “Frankie, we should find a safe spot as soon as possible so that you can relax while it works it’s way out of your system.”

He nods and you pull out the road map that you’d found in the car, scanning the land ahead of you. You guide him and he turns on to increasingly smaller roads, finally arriving at a dead end with a small cabin tucked away deep into the forest. He stops the car and you sit quietly in the yard in front for a while, listening to the sounds of birds and nothing else. Eventually he turns the car around, parking it for an easy get away and you both get out and make sure both the cabin and the area is clear. It reminds you of the early days of the outbreak, when it was just you and him and you fall into the routine of you covering his back while he goes in first.

The cabin looks untouched, the door still locked and you easily find the key hidden under some rocks near the door. The rocks are covered in moss and you have to clean the key before it slides into the lock, but it fits, and the door swings open on creaking hinges. The inside is empty and dusty, just one big room. It looks like an old hunting lodge that’s been emptied out long before the outbreak. The only remaining feature is a big fireplace on the back wall.

“Safe and dry,” Frankie says, closing the door behind you. The shutters are closed and you switch on your flashlight.

“We’ll be alright here for a few days I think, although you might not be too comfortable,” you sweep the light across the room, there’s nothing, not even firewood in the cabin.

“I’ve slept in much worse, trust me, cariño,” he gives you a weak smile, he’s pulling out the camping light and cranking it. It’s not bright but spreads enough light to illuminate the room. As you put your flashlight away Frankie puts his backpack down by the wall, when he stands up again he suddenly wobbles and puts his hand out to steady himself.

“Frankie,” you say, rushing over and wrapping your arm around his waist to hold him up, “are you alright?”

He nods but lets you lower him gently to the floor, “I just got dizzy, it’s starting…” he breathes deeply and even in the dim light you can see his pale complexion under a sheen of sweat.

“How do you feel about food? I think you should eat something before it gets worse,” you kneel down next to him and pull out the camping stove and a can.

“Just give me some of those dry crackers you made and some water,” he says, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

…

The night is bad for Frankie, his body shivers and you drape his sleeping bag over him but then sweat pours off him and his anxiety spikes. He’s got his head in your lap and you rake your fingers through his damp curls, soothing him in what little way you can as the opioids work their way out of his system. You refuse to let him keep watch, insisting that he gets what sleep he can, you sleep sitting up, a simple noise trap set up in front of the locked door. By morning Frankie is curled into a tight ball on the floor, sweating through his t-shirt and whimpering in his sleep. He’s thrown up during the night and you’ve forced him to drink water but now he’s fairly peaceful so you let him sleep for as long as his body will let him.

You only meant to stay overnight in the cabin but you end up bunkering down for three days. Frankie curses every decision he’s ever made that’s led him to lie shivering on the floor while he tries to at least keep liquids down. The forest around the cabin is quiet and you venture out in search of more water, leaving Frankie sleeping. When you come back a few minutes later he’s awake and anxious, irritated at you for leaving without him.

“You can’t go out on your own!” he snaps as you close the door behind you, wrinkling your nose at the stale air inside the cabin after three days. “What if something happens to you and I don’t hear anything?!” You put down the water container and he grabs your arms, pulling you close, “You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Frankie, honey….” you soothe him, “I was gone for a minute, there’s a stream just behind the cabin, “this is just your withdrawals messing with your brain.”

“You know I worry about you, you can’t just fucking disappear on me,” he growls, his temper getting the better of him as you try to calm him. The aggression has been simmering under the surface for the past twenty-four hours and you know he’s ready to peel his own skin off from sheer frustration. You carefully inhale a deep breath, letting him hold on to your arms as his jaw snaps shut around whatever angry words he wanted to spit out. This is not your Frankie, you have to keep reminding yourself, and you put your hands on his waist, his fingers still digging into your arms. Finding the small gap between his pants and shirt, you rub your thumbs over the soft skin, letting the warmth of your hands seep into him while you watch emotions work their way across his face; from anger to frustration to guilt and grief. When he lets go of your arms and wraps himself around you, pulling you tight, you know he’s snapped out of it for now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m such a fucking mess right now.”

“I know, Frankie, but you’ll get past it, the worst is almost over,” you caress his messy curls, cupping the back of his head with your hand to keep him close. “I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere, just stay with me and I’ll take care of you, ok?”

He nods while you gently take his hand and pull him down onto the floor again. He sits against the wall, his fingers twitching as he tips his head back against the rough timber, closing his eyes.

“I’m actually a little bit hungry, maybe the worst is over.”

“That’s great, do you want something to eat? See if you can keep it down now?”

“Yeah, give me one of those crackers to start with,” he opens his eyes again and accepts the dry piece of thin bread from your backpack.

You watch him eat it and then a small helping of canned baked beans that you heat up on the camping stove. He’s still shaky and nauseous, but it stays down and he starts to feel better. You eat your own food and sit down next to him, pulling him into you with your arm over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek, “for putting up with me. Just for once I’d like to have a life where I don’t feel like I’m always trying to make up to you for my mistakes.”

“You know I’ll always think you’re worth it, Frankie,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He hums contentedly and sighs and you sit in silence for a while. His breathing is calmer than it has been in days, he’s not trembling anymore and he’s starting to feel warm again, like himself.

“I’m sorry I forced you to leave Will and Benny behind,” you say eventually, “but I couldn’t let them know, I didn’t want them to risk anything, this is just you and me.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting up so that he can look at you properly, “I know you did what you had to do to get me away from it and I’m grateful. You sacrifice so much for me, cariño.”

“And Santi…” you begin to say but tears well up and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from falling apart. You see Frankie’s eyes fill up with tears too and he pulls you into his chest.

“It’s not your fault, Frankie,” you whisper between quiet sobs, “I know I said it but I know it wasn’t your fault, you got betrayed by someone.”

Frankie shakes his head, “I fucked up, I feel asleep, it would’ve been different,” he tightens his hold on you and you feel him tense up, “he was so disappointed in me for still using, he told me he was going to tell you when we got back and then kick my ass.”

“You talked to him before he got caught?” you ask, pulling back a little and wiping the back of your hand over your eyes, “you didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah, right before, I told him what had happened and he said we’d been betrayed, that it wasn't’ my fault, but…I-I don’t know…” Frankie sighs and you reach up and wipe away another tear from his cheek, “He wasn’t mad at me, just disappointed and told me I had to get over it, get clean, I’m just such a fucking mess, a disappointment to you all.”

“You’re doing it now, Frankie,” you say, letting the back of your hand caress his cheek, “you’re past the worst of the withdrawals and now you stay clean for Santi. And I’ll help you, all the way.”

Frankie sighs and gives you a weak smile, “He told me he wasn’t sure I could survive without you anymore, and he’s right, what the fuck would I do without you?”

“What the fuck would I do without you, Frankie?” you say, pressing your lips to the bare patch on his scruffy cheek, “And I don’t mean all the times you’ve actually saved my life. But how would I survive in this world if you didn’t love me? You’re the only reason I actually want to stay alive.”

“I don’t know how long I can keep us safe out here though,” Frankie says with a deep sigh, looking towards the door of the cabin as if he can see all the monsters, infected or not, waiting for you. “We’ll be in danger whenever we leave and even in a place like this, there’s always a risk of someone showing up.” He looks back at you, his eyebrows knitted and serious, “I don’t want to scare you, but there’s only us now and our odds aren’t good.”

“I don’t care, Frankie,” you let him wrap his arms around you so that he can tuck you in under his chin, “I just want my old Frankie back, without the drugs, and I’d rather have just a little time with you like that out here, then watch you succumb to your nightmares and addictions in the QZ.”

“Maybe I should’ve just left on my own…” he mumbles, “putting your through this isn’t fair.”

“Pfft…as if I’d let you,” you snort, “I would’ve come after you.”

“I know, and you coming after me then would’ve been much scarier than any infected or raider,” you can hear the smile in his voice and you give him a soft dig in between his ribs and he chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head while he runs his hand over your arm for a few minutes while you sit quietly.

“I never could’ve left you though, I’m too selfish,” Frankie says after a little while, “I need you, even when I’m my shittiest, lowest self. I never could’ve left you, even if you’d begged me to, Pope was right when he said I can’t survive without you.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone, I miss him,” you say, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

“Me too,” Frankie mumbles, “me too.”

…

On the morning of the fourth day Frankie feels stable enough to continue westward. The cabin you’re in is decent but still too close to civilization, so you refill your water canisters and load up the little car. You’re going to need to find gas soon though and when you hit the highway again Frankie sorts a siphon and fills up the tank. It’s slow going, stopping and getting more gas every hour but you make your way west, giving Chicago a wide berth. As soon as you start getting closer to towns or cities, you see infected. There are hordes of them, roaming around what used to be populated areas.

“Any town or city is off limits,” Frankie says as you watch yet another group of infected in the distance, “We’ll have to resupply by hunting or looting farmsteads. One or two infected we can handle, any more than that and we’re pushing our luck.”

You nod and agree, luckily you only see infected near towns or cities, you haven’t seen any in the farms you’ve explored. It seems people either left during the outbreak or the infected somehow naturally gravitate towards each other. In the years since the outbreak some attempts have been made to understand how the infection works and how it makes the infected behave. But apart from them seeming to group into larger hordes and moving with the seasons, no one really understands much about them.

You get past Illinois and enter Iowa, avoiding Des Moines and following the pin straight highway twenty through endless fields.

“Haven’t they heard of curves in this state?” you grumble as you stare at the road that stretches towards the flat horizon, “these roads are literally designed for people to fall asleep while driving.”

“You’ve never traveled by car across the Midwest before the outbreak?” Frankie asks, he looks relaxed, the road is almost empty, just a few cars along the sides, and he’s got his elbow out through the open window, the wind ruffling his curls under yet another trusty cap he picked up somewhere, this one says ‘Pennsylvania University’.

“No, I always flew when I went home from college and the only road trip I did was from Seattle to Portland.”

“I’ve driven coast to coast, the Midwest is the worst for straight roads,” Frankie says, waving his hand out the window, “we just need to get through Iowa and then Nebraska, then we’ll start seeing some mountains.”

“Is Nebraska where you wanna head?” you ask, following the highway on the map.

“Maybe, it gets pretty remote once you start getting in among the reservations, they were never very populated, but lots of open land. But I was thinking maybe Colorado too, but away from Aspen and Denver, somewhere remote up in the mountains but not so far up that the winters get too harsh.”

“Maybe down in the foothills of the Rockies?” you say, looking at the states that creep up to the big mountain range cutting you off from the coast, “Colorado, Wyoming, Montana?”

“Pick a state, cariño, and pick a farm,” he chuckles, “We’ve got a lot of land to choose from.”

…

At night you try to find shelter somewhere away from the road, out of sight. If you’re lucky you find an empty cabin or house, if not you try to hide in a forest, or at least a patch of trees. You sleep in watches, never trusting any place enough to both sleep at the same time. Frankie always makes you sleep first, and once he’s tired enough, in the middle of the night, he wakes you up and then he falls asleep easier and has less nightmares. They still plague him though, and there are new elements to them, he mumbles Pope’s name and you try to calm him before he gets to the point you know he revisits every night.

You still see him too, up on the scaffold every night in your dreams. Sometimes you can run towards it, other times you’re glued to the spot, unable to move, but the outcome is always the same; the trap door opens and he drops before you can get to him. Some nights are worse than others, then all four of them are up there, Frankie next to Pope, with Will and Benny there too. Those nights you wake up screaming as the trap door opens, and Frankie scrambles to pull you into his arms, to calm you down.

“You’re getting good at this,” you mumble, pressed into his soft flannel shirt as your breathing slows down. His hands are rubbing up and down your arms and back, grounding you under his touch.

“I have a lot of practice,” he whispers before he kisses the top of your ear, his warm lips tickling you and making your heart slow down a little bit more, “how many times haven’t you had to do this for me over the years?”

You hum into his chest, drifting off to sleep again even though it’s almost dawn, the dark night sky has a slight tinge at the eastern horizon as Frankie glances around the clearing you’re camped in tonight.

Suddenly he hears a high pitched cry, weak and in the distance, but distinct. You hear it too, even though you’re already half asleep, and you stir, sitting up.

“What was that?” you ask, turning towards the sound. As you listen you hear it again and this time you recognize it.

“It’s a baby,” you whisper, looking up at Frankie who’s straining his eyes to see through the darkness. It’s coming from across the road you’d been on before you took shelter in this copse, hidden from sight now by the trees.

“Yeah, an infant,” Frankie whispers back, getting up from the ground and continuing to look towards the sound.

“What do we do?” you look around the car, trying to hear or see anything else around your simple campsite.

“I’d like to say we leave, get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible,” Frankie says, looking down at you, “But I don’t think I can…”

“Me either,” you nod, “who the fuck are we if we leave a baby crying?”

Frankie gives a little shake of his head and you see him square up his shoulders as he looks towards the shrill, faint sound, “C’mon, we go quietly, we leave the car here, but grab your pack.”

You quickly pack up your things and pull out your gun, all traces of sleep are gone now as you follow behind Frankie. He leads the way across the highway and into the sparse forest on the other side. The baby goes silent sometimes but always starts crying again and suddenly Frankie puts his fist up, signaling you to stop. Through the forest you hear the soft sound of a woman shushing the child. Frankie motions for you to crouch down and slowly you move forward together, making as little noise as possible. The breeze masks your footsteps and as you step around a large oak tree you see the source of the sound; leaning against a boulder is a woman, a few years younger than yourself, with a baby cradled in her arms. Even in the faint light you can see her ghostly pale skin and gaunt look, her chest rising in short rapid breaths, like she’s gasping for air and something tells you she’s dying, her body is slumped over, like she doesn’t have any strength left. Frankie scans the area around her for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Don’t scream, we’re not going to hurt you,” he says, half visible behind the tree. The woman startles but doesn’t cry out, she just holds the child closer to her chest.

“We heard the baby crying, do you need help?”, you ask, still half hiding behind Frankie. He’s lowered his gun but you can tell he’s still on full alert. The woman is painfully emaciated and scared looking but she seems to relax a little when she sees you.

“Are you hurt?” Frankie asks, he can see that her ragged shirt is dark with what looks like blood, and she nods, her face suddenly crumples as she begins to cry.

“Please,” she begs, tears streaming down her face, “take him, get him away from them.” She struggles to lift the baby, he begins to wail again and she almost drops him as her arms give out.

“Keep watch,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “I’m going to check on her.” He puts away his gun and puts his hands up.

“I’m going to come over, I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t hurt me, ok?”

The woman nods, sobbing, and Frankie closes the short distance, crouching down next to her. You keep your gun raised, your eyes flitting between Frankie and the woman and the trees around you. The sky is rapidly getting lighter but the surrounding forest is quiet, whoever ‘them’ are, you can’t hear anything.

The woman’s eyes are big and fearful as Frankie crouches down but he smiles at her, you see his warm eyes give her that comforting look you’ve seen so many times, and she relaxes, trusting him instinctively.

“You’re hurt?” he asks in a soft voice and she nods, looking down at her abdomen.

“It’s bad, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I-I’m dying,” she whispers and as Frankie gently lifts her shirt you hear him inhale, her shirt is soaked with blood and there is a nasty looking gash deep into her side. She’s been holding her hand over it but as Frankie makes her move it out of the way you realize there’s no way you can help her. She needs a hospital, and even that might not be enough.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says in a low voice, looking up at the woman’s pale face, “I can’t do anything, we only have a simple first aid kit. Who did this to you?”

The woman just shakes her head and tries to lift the baby again, “Take him, please, they’re hunting me, get him away from here.”

You scan the forest again, your finger on the trigger, straining your ears to hear anything above the chirping of the early morning birds that have started to sing.

“Who are they?” Frankie asks, gently dropping the woman’s shirt over her wound again.

“Slavers,” the woman shudders, “I escaped three days ago, I-I don’t have time, please,” she looks down at the baby in her arms and then back at Frankie, “Please, you’ve got to take him. His name is Jack, after my brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people, please find him.”

Frankie looks over at you and you see the question in his eyes, should you take this baby? But the option is to leave him to die with his mother, or be found by the slavers, and then what? You nod to Frankie and look at the woman, “We’ll take him, but we might not find your brother, Wyoming is a big place.”

“Just get him away from here, please,” the woman’s voice breaks, she’s bending her head down over her son, gently tucking in the blanket that’s swaddled around him. She looks up at Frankie again, he’s still crouched next to her.

“Take him and…and k-kill me…” she pleads, “Don’t let them find me alive, they’ll hurt me.”

“How many are coming after you?” Frankie asks, holstering his gun and taking the infant boy from the woman.

“Ten, maybe fifteen,” she says, looking at her son, now safely tucked into the crook of Frankie’s arm. “There were twenty-two in the gang, I killed one as I escaped.”

“Too many for us to fight,” he replies, looking back at you. Much as you know he would like to help, he won’t risk your life or his own for this.

“Come here,” he says to you, motioning over, “take the baby.”

“Jack, his name is Jack Connolly, he-,” the woman says, her voice breaking into a moan as she grabs her side, “he’s six months old, his birthday is January twenty-third,” she looks at you as you carefully take Jack from Frankie, “Please take care of him,” she whispers, “tell him I love him.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, “We’ll keep him as safe as we can. Do you kno-”

Your head snaps up as you suddenly hear someone shout in the distance, Frankie is on his feet in a flash, gun raised.

“We need to go,” he says, “back to the car, quick.”

“Please,” the woman urgently whispers, “don’t leave me alive, you have to kill me,” she sobs, glancing over her shoulder towards where the shout came from. Frankie looks at her and then back at you before he kneels down by her again.

“Do you know where in Wyoming?” he asks, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. “And what is your name? So that we can tell your son when he grows up.” You turn away from the woman as you see Frankie reach for the hunting knife behind his back.

“Julia,” the woman says, her voice breaking around another painful moan, “They were heading for Wind River.”

“We’ll find him, we’ll bring Jack to him,” Frankie says and then you hear the breath knocked out of the woman in a gentle gasp. You can’t help but glance back, shielding the boy in your arms. Frankie’s hand is covering her mouth and his hunting knife is in her chest, angled just into her heart. As you watch, her wide eyes, locked on Frankie, go still and lifeless. He gently sweeps his hand over her eyelids, closing them as he pulls out his knife.

“C’mon, we need to move,” he says quietly, getting back to his feet, sheeting the knife and pulling out his gun again. A man with a gruff voice shouts again, closer this time, and as you spin around, Frankie grabs your arm and pulls you behind the large oak tree. He gives it a few seconds and then moves you forward with his hand still around your wrist.

“Back to the car, quietly,” he whispers, “if the baby cries, cover his mouth as much as you can.”

You only make it a short distance before you hear voices behind you again and Frankie pulls you both down behind some low shrubs, not enough to hide you if someone comes too close.

“I found her!” someone shouts from between the trees, “but the bitch is fucking dead!”

“And the baby?” another voice calls, you can hear the undergrowth crunching as someone hurries towards the woman’s body.

“I can’t see it,” the first voice says.

Frankie tugs on your wrist and you move through the forest, crouched low, back towards the road. You glance down at the baby, you’re trying to hold him steady in your left arm, holding your gun in your right. He looks back up at you with large blue eyes, mercifully silent for now.

You reach the road, there’s a strip of long grass between the edge of the forest and the asphalt and Frankie stops, sinking to his belly.

“Stay here,” he whispers, “I’m going to check if the coast is clear.”

You nod and he slowly crawls forward through the grass, lifting his head and glancing down the road. He can see a pick up truck further down the road but no people. Glancing behind him he waves you forward and he watches you begin to sneak forward through the grass but suddenly you freeze, looking at the other side of the road, and he turns. He curses under his breath when he sees two men appear from the trees and stop, looking up and down the road. Frankie hears you slowly back up, into the tree line again, out of sight. He risks a quick look over his shoulder, you’re concealed behind the trees again and he carefully crawls backwards through the grass.

“No sign of anyone, that car could’ve been there for years,” one of the men says, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder.

“I’m telling you, I came through here with Lowell a week ago and it wasn’t there then,” the second man replies.

“Yeah, but that was a week ago, whoever left it is long gone by now.”

“And maybe they’re not, I’m just saying it’s weird that the car is there just as that bitch cut Jake and ran.”

“So what? She’s dead now, and who cares about the kid? She’s been fucked by everyone of us, we ain’t gonna know who’s it is anyway.”

“Yeah, she’s dead and we’re down one worker, so we might as well try and grab whoever drove that car as compensation.”

You’ve heard more than enough, bile is rising in your throat as Frankie finally reaches you again and crouches next to you. He puts his mouth next to your ear and whispers. “Follow the treeline, stay out of sight, we’ll take their truck if we can get to it.”

You nod and he holds onto your wrist as he slowly moves through the forest, out of sight. There’s no one by the truck and Frankie quietly opens the driver's side door and feels around for the keys.

“Bingo,” he whispers as he grabs them, still hanging from the ignition, “Get in from this side, keep the baby quiet.”

You do as he says and slide down between the seat and the dash when he points you to it.

“Hold on tight, once I start it up they’ll be all over us, keep your head down,” he whispers, glancing around the truck. There’s an old hunting rifle in the back, not well maintained but when he picks it up and checks, he sees that it’s loaded.

He hands it over to you, “If I say so, leave the baby on the floor and shoot at anyone who’s coming after us, ok? They probably have at least one more car and they might have time to get to it once I start this.”

You nod and Frankie reaches for the keys, holding his breath, he turns it and the truck rumbles to life. He quickly throws it in drive and accelerates, through the open window you can hear shouts go up.

“Someone’s stealing the pickup! Get after ‘em! Quick!”

“Joey! Get the other fucking car!”

“Shoot the tyres, shoot for fucks’s sake!”

Gunshots ring out but Frankie is already swerving, zigzagging the truck down the road. A few bullets ping off the metal and Frankie glances behind him.

“Cariño, I’m gonna need you to take their car out, they’re coming after us,” he calls over the sound of the guns.

His eyes flit between you and the road as you climb up onto the seat and crouch down by the open back window. The rifle is heavier than what you’re used to but you manage to shoulder it and aim down the barrel.

“Yank back on the lever on the side to reload,” Frankie calls to you and you almost roll your eyes at him as you pull back on the bolt action. You can hear Benny’s voice in your head as you go through the motions and hold the rifle as steady as you can while the truck lurches, ‘Push it up first, then you slide it back, the bullet pops out and then you reverse it, easy!’

Your first shot goes wide, the sights on the gun wonky and old. You can feel Frankie glance at you in the rear view mirror as you reload. The second shot hits the side view mirror of the other truck, you wish you’d been aiming at it but it was pure luck. But it does have the benefit of making the driver jolt and swerve and one of the men in the back of the truck topples over and disappears from view.

A bullet slams into the back of the truck, making you jerk your head back, for a second you think you’ve been hit but nothing hurts and you take a deep breath, aiming out through the window again.

Your third bullet hits the grill, you’re getting the hang of the aim of the rifle.

“Keep the truck steady for a few seconds,” you yell back to Frankie, “I need to hit a tyre!”

He does as you say and you take careful aim as the other pickup gets closer. You squeeze the trigger gently but a bump in the road jolts your aim and the shot rings out, going wide and you curse loudly, quickly sliding back the bolt.

But Frankie whoops, “Fucking awesome shot, cariño!” and you look back at the truck, the driver is slumped over, the broken windshield splattered in blood. Behind it you see the other man try to take control of the wheel.

“Take him out!” Frankie yells, “You’ve got him!”

You aim at the tire again and this time your aim is on point, the tire blows up and the man loses control of the vehicle as it spins out of control. It careens into the ditch and Frankie floors the accelerator, putting distance between you and the slavers. You slump down in the passenger seat, letting out a long breath as Frankie gives your leg a quick squeeze.

“Best fucking shot I’ve ever seen, cariño, you’re fucking amazing!”

You give him a weak grin, and pick baby Jack up from the floor, cradling the little bundle into your arms. It suddenly hits you, now you’re responsible for this little one and the promise you made to his mother. You’re heading for Wyoming now and it feels like faith made a decision for you.

…

The truck has almost a full tank of gas and for that you’re grateful. Frankie doesn’t stop driving for hours, turning off the interstate and getting lost on smaller roads, skirting towns and villages, until you’re forced to stop and refuel.

Jack, the little baby boy, cries and sleeps throughout the day until you figure out that he can eat the spaghettios from a can and seems to like it.

“Thank god he eats solid food,” you say, carefully spooning another small bite into the boy’s mouth, “And thank god you’re a baby encyclopedia, Frankie.”

“Never thought I’d use all that knowledge again,” Frankie says, glancing down at baby Jack on your lap. “But you know this complicates things, we need to figure out how to feed him and keep him clean. We’re gonna have to wash those diapers pretty much every day.”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought, there’s already a dirty one wrapped up in the back, “Ok, that’s gonna be your job,” you say and Frankie chuckles.

“I already sacrificed a t-shirt for him, you can do the diaper washing.”

You look down at the little boy on your lap, he’s got your finger in a steady grip and as you watch him he yawns twice and closes his eyes. Soon he’s sleeping again and you cross both your legs, letting him rest in your lap with one of Frankie’s hoodies draped over him.

“How far is Wind River?” Frankie asks and you pull out the map again.

“It’s marked on the map as Wind River Reservation,” you say, tracing the outline of the reservation with your finger, “It looks like about five hundred miles away, so a day’s drive if we’re lucky. But then we have to find this group of people.” You sigh and look at the map of Wyoming, it’s a very big state, even Wind River looks huge.

“I don’t think we’ll find them,” Frankie says, “I say we stick to the original plan of getting to the foothills and finding somewhere safe to live. And even though it’s only June, we need to settle soon so that we can prepare for winter.” He looks over at you and down at the boy, “It’s not going to be easy, even for the two of us. With him…cariño, it’s going to be hard…he might not…” Frankie trails off and you nod, you know keeping a baby alive in this world is hard enough. Out here, on your own, it might prove impossible.

“We’ll figure it out, Frankie, somehow, we’ll be there in two or three days, and find somewhere to settle.”

…

‘Famous last words’, you think the next afternoon as you stand next to the car. The good news is that you’re well away from Nebraska and any pursuing slavers. The bad news is that you’re still a good fifty miles away from White River and even further from the foothills of the Rockies. And you’re out of gas. There hasn’t been a car in sight for two hours and the last one you saw had only water in the tank. The pickup spluttered to a halt after running on fumes for a good half an hour.

Frankie is going through the supplies the slavers had left in the truck, replacing some of the stuff in your packs before he shoulders the larger pack. Little baby Jack has been wrapped against your chest with a makeshift kangaroo pouch made from Frankie’s one clean hoodie. You carry the lighter pack on your back.

“That’s it,” Frankie says, “we’ll have to leave the rest but it’s mainly junk or too heavy.” He comes over to you after tossing the car keys on to the driver’s seat. “You ok, cariño?” His voice is soft as he looks down at you and the baby sleeping tucked against your chest, “It’s going to be a long walk but I know you can handle that, just let me know if he gets too heavy for you.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve got the heavier pack anyway, Frankie,” you smile at him, trying to sound more alright than you actually are. The car represented some sort of safety out here, a way of running from danger. Now you feel exposed. You look around the empty prairie, nothing but grass until the hills appear on the horizon.

“I found you this in the truck,” Frankie holds out a weather worn John Deere ball cap, it’s grimy and sweat stained, “I’ll wash it when we pass some water but you’ll need it for the sun today.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” you say and stuff it in your back pocket for now and he takes your hand and starts walking, heading west along the highway, leaving the pickup behind.

…

Settlements are few and far behind in this part of Wyoming and it feels like you walk for hours without getting anywhere. The road looks the same, the landscape looks the same, just one big open sky above you and the sun beating down mercilessly. The only sign of time and distance passing is the sun slowly creeping down towards the mountains in the west. When it finally disappears it’s a relief, the evening air cooling your hot skin.

“There’s a river coming up in about two miles,” Frankie says, looking at the map and comparing it to a rusted road sign. “We should camp there for the night, get some fresh water and see if we can catch some fish.”

You nod, you feel dead on your feet and Frankie takes your hand, “Almost there cariño, then we can rest,” he says and gives you a kiss, “C’mon, not much further.”

You walk along the river for half a mile before you find a good sheltered spot. The night’s are still warm so there’s no need for a fire but Frankie pitches the small tent he got from the pickup. It gives baby Jack shelter from the wind while you change his diaper and feed him some of the spaghettios. Frankie comes back from the river with wet pants but a proud smile and a large trout hanging by the gills from his hand.

“Earned my nickname,” he grins, showing off his catch, “Jack might not be able to eat it but we’ll get a good meal tonight and tomorrow.

Sheltered behind a few rocks, Frankie risks a small fire, and quickly grills the trout, deboning it and serving you a large portion with a flourish that makes you laugh.

“Such a master chef, Frankie, this is the best fish I’ve had in years” you smile as he sits down next to you after kicking dirt over the fire to extinguish it.

“Not sure about ‘master chef’,” he chuckles, “hunger and fresh air probably has more to do with that taste.”

“Either way, I’m very impressed,” you lean into him and kiss his scruffy cheek. His whiskers are getting long again and they tickle your nose as you taste his soft skin. Frankie turns his head and catches your chin between his thumb and finger, pressing his warm lips against yours and you hum quietly under your breath. He feels so good and it’s been so long since you were in a place where you could relax enough to think about more than just a cuddle. Here isn’t safe either but the quiet of the open prairie around you lets you feel alone and secure. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbles on it, you can feel his smile as you let your fingers thread through the curls sticking out under his cap.

“I really wish we had a room with a sturdy locked door,” he mumbles, his lips still close to yours, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

“How fast can you get your pants back on if someone shows up?” you ask, cupping his rapidly swelling cock through his jeans. He groans and you can’t help but giggle at his instant reaction, his hips involuntarily thrusting up against your palm.

“Not fast enough, cariño,” he mutters, “fuck, we shouldn’t risk it but I really wanna fuck you right now.” The last words come as a groan as you palm him with a little bit more pressure, running your fingers along the outline of his hard length.

“Is the baby sleeping?” he asks, glancing over at the tent.

“Yeah, he’s down for the night I think,” you reply, sitting up a bit straighter and straining your ears to hear anything from around you.

“Hang on, cariño, hold that thought,” Frankie says and gets up, not without trouble. You’re camped in a small dip in the land, the river bank on the other side sheltering you from both the wind and anything, or anyone, else. He climbs out of the dip and looks around, the prairie is wide and flat, it feels like you can see for miles except for the few low trees and bushes that dot the landscape.

“C’mere,” he says as he returns down into the dip, “sit on my lap, if someone comes, I’ll shoot them with my dick out,” he’s smiling but his eyes are dark with lust.

You quickly pull off your pants and straddle his hips, reaching down to unbutton him and slip your hand into his boxers. He inhales when your hand closes around his thick length and you pull him free.

“Fuck…that feels so good, carino,” he groans as he caresses your hips, one hand moving up between your thighs to find you slick and warm. His fingers are soon coated in your wetness and you take his hand and make him spread it over his cock while you run your thumb through the silky drops on the fat head. He’s heavy and hard in your hand as you slide down, moving his hand out of way.

“You can come inside me today, Frankie,” you mumble, lining him up against your opening and your words, together with the feeling of your heat starting to envelop his swollen tip, makes him moan, his fingers digging harder into your hips as you slide down onto him.

As he stretches you open, you drop your head down onto his shoulder, his hands gently pulling you down over him. He’s starting to buck his hips up, planting his feet on the ground as he grinds himself deeper. You gasp against his neck when he’s got you flush against his hip, the coarse hairs at the base grazing over your clit. Frankie is already close, you can hear his breaths go short, growling as he hooks his hand over your shoulder and pulls you down again and again.

“Hermosa…” he gasps, “I’m not going to last, you feel too fucking good, so tight, fuck…” he groans and cups the back of your head, pulling you up so that he can slide his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as his fingers find your clit and circles it with practiced ease. He knows so well how to bring your climax to the surface fast. Heat builds rapidly in your body, Frankie’s tongue slipping over yours with a steady rhythm that matches his thrusts and as he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little bit, you topple over the edge. Gasping into his mouth you feel him pump himself up into your hard, groaning under you as he fills you up, you can feel the heat of his spend even through the last waves of your own orgasm.

Leaning your foreheads together you listen to the silence around you and your heavy breaths. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can feel Frankie’s pulse thrumming under your fingers where you’re holding on to his neck. Your knees are killing you and you wince as you carefully push yourself up, letting him slip out of you. The hard ground has been digging into them, but you hadn’t even noticed while Frankie was inside you. Now you groan and stand up, carefully brushing off your legs.

Frankie is looking up at your thighs, he can see his load drip out of you in the dim light and it makes his soft cock twitch again. He grabs your hips and sits up straighter, making your gasp when his tongue dips into your slit. You can hear him chuckle as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, pulling you closer. His nose is nudging against your sensitive clit while he tastes himself on you, sliding the tip gently through your folds.

“Frankie,” you giggle, he’s tickling your oversensitive nerves, and you grab his curls, pushing him away as he looks up at you. His dimple sits deep in his cheek and his eyes are mischievous as he licks his lips.

“Perfect dessert, cariño,” he grins, smacking his lips.

“Dirty boy,” you smile back at him and turn to put your pants back on while he chuckles. He tucks himself away and you sit down next to him, leaning against him as he hooks his arm around your shoulders.

“If it wasn’t for the whole outbreak thing and constant threat of raiders and infected,” you say, threading your fingers through his, “this would be a perfect ‘Frankie date’.”

Frankie chuckles low behind your head, “I used to serve you better food than just plain trout on those dates. And give you better sex.”

“That was plenty good sex, dirty boy,” you smile, turning your head so that you can reach his lips. You can still taste your combined releases on him and you kiss him again. He leans his head against yours and you hear him yawn and you should tell him to go to bed, to sleep while you take the first watch. But you remain sitting, wrapped up in his warmth and the feeling of having a more normal version of Frankie really close by for the first time in months.

Despite the dangers of the open country around you, you can’t regret your decision to leave the QZ. You meant what you said to him while the withdrawals were plaguing his body; you’d rather have a little time with him out here than watch him waste away in the QZ.

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, looking out into inky darkness around your campsite.

“I love you too, hermosa,” he mumbles behind you and you feel his arms tighten their hold.

Chapter 35

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @fangsandroses, @cryptic-michael

warnings: mention of menstruation, swearing

AN: images taken from google

I looked at my phone as I waited for a text or call from rusty. It had been a few hours since I heard from him and I knew he was running a job right now but the pain in my gut was making my thoughts run rampant. And not in a good way. So I picked up the phone and called him.

“hello?” Rusty answered. I let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall. “(Y/N)? Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just…” I breathed out a sigh of relief again that turned into a breathless giggle. “I’m just all over the place. Hormones and shit.” I ran my hand through my hair and closed my eyes. “Thoughts are kind of…”

“I get it. I know how you get.” Rusty said, a smile clear through his tone. “Why don’t you come up here? Let me love on you a little.”

“you’re in the middle of a job right?” I asked, worried I’d be walking into something I didn’t want to be a part of.

“Yeah. But they don’t need much. Everything is going smoothly.” Rusty said, slight rustling on the other line. “Come over. I’ve missed you.” I smiled at the soft tone he’d switched over to.

“I’ve missed you too.” I admitted. “You’ve spent too long on your ops rusty. We need a proper date night.”

“yeah.” He sighed. I heard the tell tale scratch of him running his hand over his beard. “When this one is done and you’re back to normal we should go out. Do something big.” I bit my lip and nodded.

“I’d like that.” I agreed. “I’m packing a bag now. See you soon rusty.” I started putting together a bag as I heard rusty shift through papers.

“I’m pulling out now. See you at the house.” He confirmed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I whispered before hanging up and making my way to his camp. I leaned out the window of my truck when I got to the check point. “Hey Mitch. Rusty’s expecting me.” I said. Mitch nodded and waved me through, radioing ahead so the other boys wouldn’t give me a hard time. I parked the truck in front of the house and climbed out, slinging my backpack on my shoulder as I walked towards the back of the house. Most of the men on the compound nodded at me as they passed by. “Rusty!” I called as I rounded the corner and climbed up to the porch.

“(Y/N)!” Rusty said, coming over and hugging me. “How are you feeling?” I shrugged as he let me go, hands sliding to the small of my back.

“been better. Been worse.” I muttered. “Took some pain killers before I came up.” Rusty nodded before leaning down and kissing me.

“good. I was just going to suggest that.” He whispered as he pulled away. I smiled at him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“you mentioned wanting to love on me a little.” I mentioned. Rusty nodded, smiling softly at me. “Wanna do that?” Rusty stooped down suddenly and hooked his arms under my knees, pulling me up with him as he stood. I laughed as he used his knee to scoot me further up into his arms. Rusty kissed me again before carrying me into the house. He kicked the door closed and made his way up to his bedroom.

“I hope you know I meant taking care of you. Not…” rusty said as he kicked the door open. I played with his hair and nodded. “Ok. Good. I know you always talked about the guys were with before wanting to…” he rolled his eyes and I giggled with another nod. “I just wanted you to know I wasn’t…” he shrugged as he laid me on his bed.

“I know.” I assured him, reaching up to cup his cheek. Rusty leaned into it and turned to kiss my palm. “You’ve proven that time and again.” Rusty climbed into the bed next to me. “So, what does this loving look like?” Rusty pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me.

“well I was thinking we could cuddle and watch some tv for a while. I could make you something to eat.” He said, rubbed his thumb over my hip. “We could talk. I know your mind drifts when you go through this and your anxiety flares up. We could make out. Maybe play a game later. Whatever you want.” I smiled at him and turned my head to kiss him. Rusty hummed as I ran my fingers through his beard.

“I like the sound of all of that honestly.” I said with a smile. Rusty nodded and reached over for the remote. He handed it to me and watched as I picked some random movie to watch.

“good choice.” Rusty muttered when I finally settled on something. Putting the remote to the side, rusty let me curl up against him with my head on his chest and our legs tangled together.

“thank you for this.” I whispered as I burrowed deeper into his chest. “I know you had an op to run…” rusty cut me off with a kiss.

“no op is ever more important than you. I’ll drop everything if I have to. Just to take care of you.” He assured me when he pulled away. I smiled softly at him before settling against him and taking in the movie.

[cartierdreamx]

Hacked into you - 3 (AU)

Hi guys! Hope you’re doing well and your week has been great, here’s a longer chapter that I definitely enjoyed writing and that you guys deserve, something mention here (the car) in the chapter is confusing if you don’t know Watchdogs lore but a quick google search should fix that!! To keep me writing, I am so down to take requests for Jenna or any of her characters so if you would like to send in a request or just to talk to me, feel free to!! Anyways, I hope you enjoy <333

READ PART 2  PART 1

Pairings: jenna ortega x fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing (that’s it I’m pretty sure)

*I plan to write smut in this story and it does have some dark themes like violence involved, the game itself was rated MA15+ where I am from (might be different depending which country you are in) so my fic will be 18+ because I am involving more adult themes, if you do choose to proceed, please keep that in mind*

BLOND - 3

What’s the CTO of Blume doing here at 3am on a jog? run? Hell, I don’t care, only thing I care about is trying to figure out where he placed the tracker, he takes me for a fool, but the rich white man underestimates me yet again, after collecting myself, I shake off the sand and see Jenna squinting her eyes at me, trying to decipher what just happened.

“Woah, are you okay b?” B? Babe, baby, bitch, either way a little lightning bolt electrifies my heart as if I needed to be revived.

“Yeah, yeah, that was Nemec”.

“Shit. SHIT. Fuck, what’s he doing here? And so close to Dedsec, he never gets this close, nor does he do his own dirty work”.

She’s hyperventilating, well about to.

I step closer to her and extend my arm, allowing her to grab on if she’s willing, to my surprise she takes it in an instant and pulls herself into my chest. I couldn’t help but to me taken a back, but I don’t pull away, I place one hand on her head and the other running across her shoulder blades, she smells of vanilla and apples, warm, like home. Y/N snap out of it, she’s not yours.

“Hey shhhh, I’m here love, it’s okay, you’re okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Her breathing slows but deepens, indicating that she’s calming down, I’m glad I can give her some comfort.

“Would you like to go get food or do you wanna stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Just a bit longer, please”.

We stay like this for around 5 minutes, it was comforting, she was comforting, and I didn’t think I needed it, she was waves of healing, like the ones that spoke to us on the beach.

“Thank you, y/n”.

“It’s really no worries, Jen”.

By this time, I was fully sober and so was she, I was sober enough to drive and vice versa, but I was craving that drive and I wanted Jenna to relax and focus on staying warm than figuring out the cars and roads. Now, obviously I don’t have my car, blindfolded was the transportation I took to get here, however when a single click of a button on my phone, an electric car around me clicks open. It was a sleek, batman black, asteria prime. It was an instinct to open the door for Jenna, on the way in, she winks at me and slides her hand past my waist. There was no alcohol in my system but her presence, weakens my knees and system, the way fermented yeast did. Once I hop into the driver’s seat and press the button for engine start, I can see Jenna shivering a little, she’ll never admit it but my eyes never deceive me, so, I turn on the heater and seat warmers allowing her raise her body temperature.

Being in this car with her raises the unspoken tension between us once more, so I decide to turn the radio on. I realise putting on RnB would only raise the tension but I can’t help it, it’s my favourite music genre and it is heaven to my ears, the slow melody that massages every nerve in your body to the soft yet sharp voice of the artist you’re singing, nothing beats RnB and it’s sub categories. As I reach for the touchscreen displaying Spotify, Jenna reaches her hand towards it to, our pointers touch.

“You’re so warm, I need you”.

“Me?” I knew what she meant, you as in my warmth, not the warmness of my soul but my physicality, my warm skin, the way my blood rises to warm me up. Ever since I was young I was able to warm myself up easily, I never knew the reason but I couldn’t complain, it’d be the coldest winters but my hands and face never knew glaciers, the cold wasn’t welcomed upon my skin. I knew what she meant but I couldn’t help but smirk and allow the butterflies to set in, her comment made me grasp the steering wheel even tighter.

“Not you- well, I, I meant, you but” before she could finish I cut her off to save her the embarrassment, I can’t lie though, I enjoyed it and I will not be living it down.

I chuckle, “well, well, well, now look who’s stuttering”.

“Shut up, it’s just cold”.

“Mmhmh, whatever makes you sleep at night, relax Jen, I know what you mean, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’ve just been able to do this all my life, my friends would grab my hands and place them on their cheeks to warm them up”.

“Cheeks, huh?”. She smirks.

“Oh, that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Hmmmm maybe, but I like seeing you flustered”.

“Careful Ms Jenna wouldn’t want people to think you’re flirting with me”.

“Flirt? With you? Never!” She exclaims, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Okay y/n, put your music on, let’s see, put on the wrong music and I’m jumping out the car”.

“Oh, well then I think you should just jump out the car honestly.”

“HEY!” She hisses and hitting me in my sternum, causing us both to laugh and wipe our eyes as they started filling with water.

I knew exactly what to put on, I needed something cruisy, but deep enough that it talks to both of us. Frank Ocean. Specifically, Ivy, from his albumb Blond, my favourite album of his.

The first line sings, I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me, the start of nothing.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I LOVE FRANK, YOU TOO????”

“Anyone given the gift of life should”.

“Well, I guess I just might stay in the car then”.

‘WELLLLLLLLLL” I shrieked.

“Whaaattttttttttt?”

We’re here, right outside a McDonalds, just what we needed after a long night, the bright M logo is lowkey blinding us but the light illuminates her face even more, she exults a beauty no words can grasp, but the soft yellow light upon her skin from the softens my muscles, every knot undone. Driving up to the speaker box, I know exactly what I want.

“Jen, what would you like?”

“Whatever you order, b”.

“Aren’t you pescatarian? I will most definitely not be eating a fillet o fish”.

“Technically yeah, but I can be flexible, within reason, and tonight is within reason”.

“Alright, well I could eat the entire store so be ready”.

“This lil lady can eat”.

“Alrightttttt”.

Hi! What can I get for you tonight?

Hi! Could I please get 2 double cheeseburger meals, no pickles, large and coke and sprite for the drink

Sure thing! Anything else?

Yes, could I also get 40 nuggets with sweet and sour sauce and big mac sauce with that, that’ll be all thanks!

Sure, no problem, drive down to the next window, thanks.

After arriving at the window, I pull out my wallet to pay but Jenna grabs my wrist.

“Uhhhh, what do you think you’re doing b, you’re not paying, you’ve already done enough tonight”.

“Nope, I’m not letting you pay”. Swiftly paying before she lets out another word.

“Damn, you’re slick” I wink at her and click my tongue. “Okay, but next time, I’m paying”.

“Mhmhm, not gonna happen”.

I drive to the last window to collect our food, as soon as they open their drive thru window to pass out our food I can smell the oil, the signature smell of McDonalds, the shoestring fries with a linger of salt. I can’t like, my mouth nearly starts salivating, though, there could be another reason I’m salivating, and she’s sitting right next to me.

Here’s your food, enjoy!

Thank you so much.

Now we have our food, I place it on Jenna’s lap and quickly catch her stealing a fry or two, I giggle, knowing damn well the temptation was there, and if I was in her position, I would have done the same. I have no clue where to go but I reckon home is where we should head. I say home as if souls and bodies embrace my apartment, but I’m young, single, and unavailable, in a sense that I don’t technically exist anymore. I am alive, breathing, living, everything but, everything I was, is now not everything I am, the same body, yet different minds, mind over matter and my heart above all.

“Where are we headed now? Ms Uber”.

“You think you’re so funny don’t you”.

“Just a bit”.

“Don’t mean to burst your bubble butttttt”.

She stares me down, giving me an iconic Kubrick stare.

“But what”.

“Hehe, but nothing”.

“Mhmhm, that’s what I thought, b”.

Something about b. One syllable, not even a word, and right now I don’t even know what it means, b to me could be different to her, she could be calling me bitch for all I know. Usually time goes fast when you’re having fun and when you’re with the right company, but with Jenna, with her. Time is nothing but us.

“Okay, before you kill me, we’re headed to my apartment”.

“What an honour”.

“Hmmm, maybe, I don’t know, I’ve had plenty of girls over”. I smirk, taking a hit on her, the smartass in me had my ears raised, and before I could say another word, I feel a warm sting on my stomach.

“OW, JENNA, what was that for?!”

“For trying to be a smartass”.

“Oh” I test my luck and shoot one more hit, “you know jealously is not a good look on you”.

“I’m not jealous, y/n”.

“Mhmhm whatever you say, anyways we are hereeeeee”.

“Finally, if it took any longer, I would’ve jumped out of the car”.

“Okay Ms big mouth, I’m the one with the key to the apartment”.

“Hm yeah? Well, I’m the pretty girl” she clocks at me whilst getting out of the car.

I stay in the car for a few seconds and giggle a little while turning off the car, honestly if I knew Dedsec would comprise of this, of Jenna, I would have joined a lot faster, it’s silly, I know but sometimes I think maybe I could have a chance at a normal life, a wife and kids, living with pride about who we are as a LGBTQ+ family, and maybe it could be her. I shut my eyes hard and and let out a sigh, that’s all that it is, a thought, a fantasy, a dream out of reach. It’s not my life, and honestly all this vigilante work and Dedsec is my life, it’s here in the palms of my hands, and I’ve worked too hard to let it go.

“Y/nnnnnnnnnnnn, if you don’t get your ass out here now I am going to find your apartment door and knock it down”.

“Okay, okay, the princess gets what she wants”.

“Yeah, she does”. She winks at me.

We walk into the lobby and Alfred; the doorman greets me.

“Good morning, Ms y/n, ma’am”.

“Good Morrow, Alfred”.

Jenna smiles at him and chucks a good morning to him as well.

“In the Dedsec world, where no one knows your name or face, who is he? No judgement at all, I was just curious” Jenna remarks as the doors open for the elevator and I press the top number and place my key card on the reader that will let us up. I look away from her face, looking anywhere but her, probably the first time tonight I did.

“I’m sorry, it’s okay you don’t have to open up to me, I didn’t mean to cross a line”.  

I immediately look up at her with my mouth in an O shape.

“Oh, Jen, no, it’s okay, please don’t apologise, you did nothing wrong at all and don’t worry I do want to tell you”. I take a deep breath and let my heart talk.

“I know how dangerous this life is, I knew the risk but Alfred, he’s the only family I have, well have left anyway, I broke ties from my family years ago and started living here, yeah they were blood but what choice did I have when the blood was drowning me and water was all I had left? I took this apartment, it was the only thing I took from them and Alfred, knowing me since then, became my family and after deciding what I wanted to do, what I wanted to join, I couldn’t just leave him behind, not when he was the only thing I had, when I had nothing”.

I take deep breaths, making sure no tears escape my ducts but one stubborn one escapes, I go to wipe it off but a small, soft, warm beats me to it.

“Hey b, thank you for opening up, I feel honoured, and I understand you completely, I’m here now, we’re here now, Dedsec is your family, you are one of us, and I promise you nothing is going to happen to Alfred, or you, I won’t let that even be a thought”.

“Thank you”.

That was another time where the 4th dimension was non-existent, but alas, the elevator door dings and finally opens. I hear a loud gasp which makes a smile break.

“Fuck, did Oprah join Dedsec?”

“Haha, I’m glad you’re amused, welcome to my humble abode”.

“HUMBLE? Y/N THIS IS BIGGER THAN ANY DEDSEC HACKERSPACE WE HAVE, WHO ARE YOU, WHO IS YOUR FAMILY”.

“Now, sweet one, that is for you to find out, quick get over here before your food gets ice cold”.

After a good 20 minutes of eating, chewing, and a lot of “Oh my God, I needed this”. We were both collapsed on the couch, in a food coma about to pass out. At this time of night, well morning, I offer to Jenna just to stay the night instead.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, there’s a guest bedroom over there to the right and the closest is filled with spare clothes if you need, toiletries and other things are in the dresser”.

“You’re too kind”.

“Always”.

“But first, let me see your room, I bet it’s bigger than my brain could even think”.

I lead her towards the bedroom and open my door, instead of a gasp I hear a-

“SHIT”.

“Impressed?”

“Very, hmm you know, in another life where I’m a world renown actress, this could be mine”.

I laugh, “I believe that Ms Jenna”.

“Ortega, my last name is Ortega”.

She opened up, it may not seem like much, but Dedsec members are super secretive about personal information, it’s better that way, it’s for protection, I mean our faces and names are wiped off the system anyway, but caution is taken. I smile at her and nod.

“Mines l/n, y/n l/n”.

“Well, nice to meet you Ms y/n l/n”.

“Likewise, Ms Jenna Ortega”.

“Now seeing that you’re sitting on your very comfortable looking bed, I’m assuming you’re about to pass out so I’ll leave you to it”.

She starts heading towards the door, but before she opens it to head out, my subconscious takes over me and becomes my conscious.

“Wait”.

She turns back with wide eyes.

“Stay”.

[rainbowonice]

writing down all my problems with this episode to heal my soul and release my inner hater self:

Athena pestering Amir and abusing her power as a cop once again without repercussions

the narrative using Amir, a man that lost his wife in a terrible fire and got literally scarred for life, as a red herring MULTIPLE times literally leave him alone he did nothing to deserve this

Eddie's parents character regression, Helena SMILING the whole time and Ramon saying that Shannon is "even in death that woman is making his life a chaos” like? neither he or Chris ever got over her and Kim made it 100 times worse and they didn't fix it or address how Shannon death affected them, Eddie is still romanticising her, his family is still vilanizing her and we have no idea what Chris thinks even if that should have been where the story was taking us, them finally having a real talk about Shannon, instead they made Chris run away.

daddy kink joke i already made a post about this but id like to add that daddy issues ≠ daddy kink and that making them equal is gross and is harmful having parental issues shouldn't be a sexual thing.

cartel not cartel thing taking up 40% of the episode for literally no reason and i already made a post on how racist that whole plot is

Bobby dying for 14 minutes and then being ok by THE END OF THE DAY and then 2 WEEKS LATER coming in at work without telling it to anyone else and without even taking away his retirement request??????

the zero stakes regarding Bobby's life the team looking unfazed, no one was crying, no one was really worried and at the end of the day we even got Buck having a dinner date wearing the same shirt he has been wearing THE WHOLE DAY (I'm not letting this slide I'm sorry that's my new roman empire) like ok i thought that we were a family lmao?

Bobby suicidal thought are healed ig now sure

Madney taking temporary custody of Mara first of all a quick google search told me it takes "after you complete your training, it usually takes about three to four months" and they did it in like a week help and the whole narrative is just lesbianphobia. Henren can't get a single family story without it ending with the kid taken away or the kid thinking that two mothers aren't enough there is a need of a dad... while is a cute scene or whatever it reeks of cishet couple does it better and without struggle while the black lesbians have to struggle and beg.

that old fart coming back he's 200 years old at best what the fuck a cold will take him out prince Philip looked better 2 days before perishing be real how is he supposed to be a threat? Just sneeze near him GOD

the episode overall was predictable af and honestly boring it fell flat and the screentime Amir got was CRAZY they cut so many scenes they cut a whole Eddie and Chris scene of them crying in Chris room (what was the context we will never know rip) just to get 100 scenes of the cartel, the ugliest date scene you've ever experienced in your life and Athena neighbour from 4 doors down.

this season was The Worst season they ever made even worse than season 1 and 6 and you guys have no idea how much i hate them. It was a whole mess rushed, dumb, badly written, badly executed, wasted time on useless scenes and cut away too much, they didn't had a single normal call, they didn't had a single fire engine scene, they all looked disconnected and it legit made no sense not even the actors liked it.

[realin808]

So todays complaint about the 808 state is how actually people in authority is still hiding because they teamed up with a group thinking they were superior and could over take the government and then take bribes and change identity aka for witness protection and lmao it was illegally and its an island you can’t run nor hide and sorry the virtual face mask comes off and tbh … you need to do cosmetic surgery if you still tryna live in Hawaii and not leave state … why they never left ? Because look the state suppose to help for when this time comes that people could help detect people location and see who actually is doing the crime . And look the original creators that created corona virus disease and look its spiritual but hard to get evidence of spiritual right so they added effects like noises and voices and an image of the person being or to blame and make like hacking the head by beeping noises but really raping the bodies of humans and thinking its ok. I know I’m someone special inside and I was the first one and the state did nothing to prevent it from spreading now we on broadcast and people hate us because the botches won’t get off and stop harassing bullying people and saying stupid shit just to get them to be victimized in crimes and have no one taken seriously . And some be forced to go and do time for them and they escape from doing time because they think they are superior and think they can get away with it. Illegal racist white privileged authorities or personals and thinking that they can get whatever they want and just live off of people !! Like you give everything a bad name and think you’ll get out of it !!! Like come on I’m fucking waiting for you to get to your original born self body !! Ok or soon I guess no matter water just eliminate all. Trust me I keep up with the stories and put it together fast you think you’re going to slide thru and survive but the REAL TRUTH… dead and ending everyone like you because its like a toxic cancer and it spreaded so bad and still causing issues that as soon as you get there bam ! Black out (: thank you for making this a game Hawaii !! Thank you and broadcasting it and trying to lie now because caught look they already knew who was the original and how the original person for the correct stories look like. And once you realize they are stupid because people will tell them things and seen differently or thinking certain things will help them but it won’t because look voice recognition… for any home, phone, google or any other system that recognize your voice because it needs to register yah look in the settings it’s registered and so it can be detected and tell you who that voice is recognized to and what account (: so how you going to change the voice say in the —— voice ? But you spoke it so that part should be detected original owner (: and global tel my voice is my password !!!! Wooooohoooo global !!! The whole world knows your voice !!!! Yah you belong to the system !!! Thank god you over use power in technology that damn caught by voice and the virtual face mask and illegal face mask of identity … yeah comes off and wouldn’t you use animation or animals for that because excuse me you don’t want to do nothing illegal then don’t do that face mask it’s federal illegal action / doings for you stupid people

Saying criminal act / actors (action - of actual showing to do - people can witness and take pictures or do a recording of )… sucks because if it’s real to them they can press charges … or tell authorities about and submit as evidence so doing all this acting is what ? Where the fuck is the authorities??? Oh yeah they corrupted and used all these illegal things to go hiding or blame other and took bribes so right now they hiding … is it clear to come out now … can I get my body back LMAO . Thank you sincerely kealoha investigation !! That remember said would be broadcasted !! And we would watch the trial lmao look it broadcasted to where are you … lol. What did you really do and running away .. so authorities and criminals on the run !! Yes because look I ain’t getting in trouble and some been sabotage because of course abuse of power, racism , hate and now scary … whole world watching … and I’m the little girl who started it all (: and what’s the game ? Be invisible and use people and things to blame someone other than the actual doer and get away with it. But if only they wouldn’t have started talking !!!! You stayed quiet and never talk then bam wouldn’t have been seen or heard be detected who was actually apart of the thing. So thank you for talking and then dressing up with spirit to let everyone identity you as some way or being (: and we are an island so like where you going to really hide and not be seen to where can you go.?! The airports would have wanted people so you can’t fly ?? Sucks .. you talked and revealed yourself and wanted to be celebrities … how and why would you if you identity your self in the streets !? Like common sense right ? Don’t tell people what you actually do right because it may be illegal and people can report you to actual authorities… so what was the purpose ?! Thank god they built a hate group for themselves and lol watch they can’t take the criticism or judgement that look suicide rates are going to go up because bullying invisible to others and then caught or just doing the wrong … just admit it confess and stop lying because to be honest people see what actually happens and it’s embarrassing … most of these people are older and they knew about this and thought they could have people reenact cases to get out of it but if your local and was in the same time era / period with everyone who actually know that story … wouldn’t you think they fix whatever story is now being told about that situation so people be like no that was so and so and look reveal who actually did what to who but question is why are authorities telling others to reenact it oh because they want to be free from doing timing and blame others and also stupid people are on drugs - substance abuse / drunk and then not in the best mind frame so they could manipulate others to do it control people innocent or just scam them and without knowing it intentionally that certain people will do things just to get someone to do the charge . It’s sad because almost 3 years and not even justice to why I never had privacy to now how come I got privacy sometimes ? People say I’m off screen then why the fuck ain’t I off the screen to why is my rights violated and still not getting justice to people confirmed and will talk to me in human face to face interaction … and then some people lying and trying to make like I’m going crazy knowing that they can make someone feel like no one will trust them and that’s what happened to me and caused me and my own family problems to then finding out it links to other family problems to why my mom told us things and we had to be away from my dad and now hearing these people did shit to my dad and thinking it’s ok and then me the daughter dealing with the shit and look where’s the money how come I’m so fucking famous !!! It’s because my fucking right and privacy was violated said it couldn’t turn off and being sabotage and a groups of people tryna kill me and look ruin everything I work for just to steal it from me or make me go so low that you know how much this shit impacted me !

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.47 - By Your Grace

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Kiera gets intimidating, yet surprising news; Simon is faced with one of his greatest fears; the 141 is due to return home; Kiera comes to terms with having to make a decision.

January 13, 2023

"Love, you should go to the doctor. Those cramps have gotten worse." Simon warned, frowning as he watched her spit used toothpaste into the sink, her complexion nearly ill. 

"I guess you didn't overhear me make my appointment yesterday," She breathed a chuckle. "I think my IUD moved. I couldn't feel the strings." 

"I don't know what that is?" He shrugged. 

"It's the thing that keeps a miniature you coming out of me." She scoffed playfully, glancing at him through the mirror as his cheeks flushed with what seemed like embarrassment when in reality it was excitement. He pictured the perfect combination of her with him compressed into a child, the thought making him eager to experience, although if he were to be honest, the thought of bringing a child of his own into the world was a new terror that he was worried to experience. If my own nephew can be taken from me by my enemies, I don't want to imagine what would happen if my enemies knew I had a child of my own, he frowned. 

"Oh. You said you thought it moved? I'd rather ask you before I Googled it." He chuckled.

"Yeah. Guess we can't be having rough sex for a while." 

"Can't help myself." 

"You'll have to if my OB/GYN tells me that's the reason why it moved, babe." 

She watched him blush, hiding a grin when he looked down to his lap, his eyes fluttering shut as he wasn't the best morning person. Why can't you make appointments in the afternoon? He huffed. Sliding on her sweatpants, a loose t-shirt and tossing a pair of Hey Dudes on the floor next to the bed, she sat next to Simon on the bed and swept back his hair with her fingers, "Watch me find out I'm pregnant." She joked. 

"Christ," He mumbled, keeping his eyes closed as he enjoyed her touch. "That's the last thing I need is another me running around."

"Hush, you're not that bad," She teased. "Might be a girl. Then you'll really be in trouble." 

"Don't remind me. Especially at the same time," He chuckled, his expression showing her that he didn't seem worried if she were to be pregnant at some point, seeming to be rather relaxed at the thought of being a father - a better father than his own. "Your father would kill me." 

"Nah. He's been wanting grandchildren." 

"Yeah, he would. I wouldn't blame him. I'd kill my son if he knocked up his girlfriend after a few months." He scoffed. 

"You're overthinking, babe," She assured him. "My IUD has done this before when I first got it. The pain is as familiar as before." 

"I still don't know what exactly that is, but I'll take your word for it." 

"I'm sure you'll still Google it after I leave." 

"Probably." 

"Don't forget that we have to take the guys to the airport. Unfortunately, they're going back home today." She reminded him, frowning at him as he sighed at her reminder. 

"I know." 

"They have to be there by three. I'll follow you all there so that you don't have to hitch a ride back to the ranch." She teased.

"Okay, love." 

She continued to comb through his hair for a few more minutes before she glanced at the clock, "Shit, I'm going to be late." 

"Yeah, best get there and reassure me that it's nothing major. I'll be worrying about it the entire time you're gone." He sighed. 

She giggled, "You're worrying over nothing, babe. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Surely you can do your research on your curiosity to pass the time away." 

"Two hours is a long time to wonder." He sighed, opening his eyes to look up at her after the feeling of her fingers in his hair disappeared. 

"It'll be alright. I'll text you when I'm on my way back." 

He nodded, feeling her lean down to press a kiss to his lips and mumbled "I love you" before retreating, Simon telling her that he loved her back as he watched her walk through the bedroom door, grabbing her purse from the couch and keys from the hook. He sighed, laying his head back on the pillow to battle the early-morning exhaustion and setting an alarm on his phone to wake him in two hours as his eyelids were too heavy to think about anything else except the thought of her coming home with unplanned news. 

He wanted a baby, but he also wanted to know that he didn't have to worry about the thought of an enemy crossing the boundary like before, the thought of Kiera and his own child taken from him making his teeth grind. Seeing Fernando being taken from Alejandro was bad enough, losing my nephew was worse, but losing my own child and the only woman I've ever loved? I don't even want to know what that feels like.

*

"Ms. Dutton?" The nurse smiled as she opened the door that led to the private examination rooms of the women's clinic. 

Kiera smiled, standing to her feet as she greeted the nurse, following her to get her blood pressure and weight recorded before going to see her OB/GYN who was also a fellow friend from high school and trusted OB. "Alright, blood pressure is normal. Weight is normal," The nurse hummed as she wrote her data on Kiera's chart. Shit, I need to stop letting Simon make dinner, she cursed to herself, punishing herself for eating more while in a relationship, knowing Simon never let her eat just a sandwich to compare to a full meal. Why is it that he can eat twice as much and lose weight, but I eat the same and gain?

"I see here that you're concerned that your IUD may have moved?" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"How long has it been since you had it put in?" 

"About six months. I got it put in a couple of months before I went on a deployment. Can't stand the thought of having a period while in the middle of a desert." She chuckled, her anxiety causing her to babble on instead of giving a simple answer. 

The nurse giggled along with her, "I understand. Thank you for your service." 

"Oh, I-I'm not a soldier," She corrected. "I work with the military, but I'm not, you know," She huffed. "I can't really say." 

"That's okay. You still went in the line of fire. Most people wouldn't even do that even if you're not a service member." She assured her, taking notice of her secretive job, but refusing to pry. 

"Yeah." Kiera nodded, looking to her lap as the nurse walked away with a completed chart in her hand, disappearing into the examination room with Rachel - Kiera's OB. 

"Are you here to cause me trouble again with that cervix of yours?" Rachel teased her dear friend, greeting her with a warm smile and friendly hug. "How are you? Are you in one piece? Let me look at you." 

"As far as I know," She chuckled. "I'm not quite the same, though." She continued, pulling the fabric of her loose shirt over her shoulder to show Rachel her healing scars, watching her gasp as she pulled back to look closer, recognizing the scar on her cheekbone and horrid scars on her shoulder from the blast, knowing that wasn't even the worst of it. 

"Oh, Lord!" Rachel gasped. "What happened?" 

"A damn grenade in Chicago." 

"Oh my God, I heard about that. I had no idea that was you. Wasn't it you and some Marines?"

"Yeah, Marines and members of the team I was assigned to work with." 

"Is- Everyone okay?" 

"Can't say the same about our opposed, but yes." 

She knew better than to openly talk about her experience with combat, but she trusted Rachel enough to be able to rant to her as Simon had been the only one she had talked to about it as well as her own father, but something about being comfortable enough with a best friend was more comforting than a father's advice. 

"I'm glad. I'm sure this is the least of your worries right now." 

"I hope so," Kiera sighed, following Rachel into the room and retrieving the medical robe from her before changing out of her clothes behind the privacy curtain. "I remember when it moved last time. Hurt so fuckin' bad." 

"Mine did that, too," Rachel said from the other side of the curtain, fumbling with her equipment while she waited on Kiera to return. "Cramping, spotting, some bloating, the whole nine yards. I'll see if I can find the string and I can take it out for you." 

"Oh, I need some type of birth control." 

"Why's that, Kiera? You find you a cute soldier instead of fighting off terrorists?" She teased. 

"Yes, actually, and fought off a terrorist." She corrected, appearing from behind the curtain. 

"Is that so? What's his name?" 

"I'm afraid you'll take a liking to him like you did my last boyfriend. I think I'll keep him a secret." 

"Oh, shut up!" Rachel laughed. "You know I won't mess with your man. Well, not in front of you, anyway." She teased. 

"I figured, you slut," She laughed. "His name is Simon." 

"And is he a fling or here for the long run?" She asked, happiness for her friend gleaming in her eyes. You deserve such a good man, Kiera. You've been through so much.

"I think I've found the one, honestly. He's so good to me. Better than what I deserve." 

"Shut up, girl. You deserve a good man. That last one was a piece of shit and I'm really surprised you didn't feed him to the wolves." 

"I was different back then. I was too dumb." 

"Nothing's changed," Rachel teased. "You got a picture of this Simon?" 

"I do, actually. I mainly sneak pictures of him because he doesn't like how he looks, but he doesn't see what I see." She replied, reaching for her phone to show Rachel her wallpaper: a photo of her and Simon in front of the Christmas tree in her parent's lodge. He was never much of a smiling type when it came to photos, but thanks to her father, he couldn't help but smile at the stupid joke, unaware that Kiera had told her father to tell him a stupid joke when she asked her mother to take the photo of them, knowing his natural smile was so beautiful, his white and straight teeth complimenting his natural tan-like complexion. 

"Oh, wow! He's handsome, Kiera!" Rachel gasped, slipping on a pair of latex gloves after washing her hands, her heart swelling for how happy Kiera looked in the photo, not able to remember a time where Kiera actually looked happy. "And he's tall, too! Almost can't see the tree behind him. You caught yourself a good one, girl." 

"Thank you." 

"Where's he from?" 

"Manchester." 

"And he's British? You'll have to let me meet him one day!" 

"Not if you keep swooning." 

"I'm not swooning," Rachel giggled. "You keep forgetting I'm married, huh?" 

"Mhm. Does Brandon know you're this much of a slut for your friend's boyfriend?" She teased, the pair laughing to ease the nervous tension Kiera held as she knew the procedure was about to be painful. 

"Totally," She rolled her eyes playfully. "What happened to your legs, girl?" She asked, furrowing her brows as she looked at the healing grafts. 

"From that explosion. Had third degree burns and they had to take grafts from my thighs for my back. I'll show you before I leave." 

"You don't have to if you're uncomfortable." 

"Rachel, you're staring at my fucking twat. I'm sure looking at scars on my back is less intimidating." 

"True," Rachel shrugged. "It's a job. You become numb to it after a while. Although I must say I'd rather look at yours than anyone else's." 

"Of course you would. Lesbian." 

Rachel giggled, turning on the lamp to give her a better view of her work, placing lubricant on her speculum before proceeding after Kiera's consent. After a few moments of minor discomfort, Rachel's head peered up to look at her. "Okay, I can't see your strings, so I'm going to have to use something to try and find it. It definitely moved. Hopefully it hasn't imbedded itself." 

"Fuck, I hope not." 

"Me either. I'd hate to have to dig into your cervix more than I'll have to," She sighed, taking a cytobrush from the nearby table to continue the search for the IUD string. 

"What usually causes one to move?" Kiera asked, breaking the silence. 

"Can be a number of things. Considering you have a boyfriend now, I'd say he's to blame for this one." She giggled, teasing her.

"I'm not surprised." Kiera scoffed, opening her phone to text Simon the good news. 

Today, 8:15 AM

Kiera: Definitely no rough sex for a while. You moved my IUD. Lol She's trying to find the string so she can take it out and replace it.

She knew Simon went back to sleep judging by how heavy his eyes were when she left that morning, but knew he'd appreciate the semi-good news to look at for when he got up. 

"I'm just kidding. Considering your line of work, it can be anything. Once I find it, I'll do an ultrasound on you to make sure it didn't imbed itself and I'll remove it and put in a new one." 

"Sounds good." 

"Have you been bleeding any aside from cramps?" 

"Occasionally. It's almost like spotting. It did this last time." 

"Okay." Rachel nodded as she continued her search for the string of the IUD, having to use a different method that was a little more uncomfortable but more reliable. "Found it. Take a few deep breaths. When I count to three, I'll take it out, okay?" 

Kiera nodded. 

With a wince, Kiera shut her eyes at the stinging pain as the IUD was removed, dreading the moment a new one would be put back in as the insertion pain was far worse than the removal. 

"I'm going to do an ultrasound real quick before I put in a new one. I need to make sure you don't have any damage to your uterus." She explained, preparing her machine as she placed a delicate dollop of gel on Kiera's stomach, Kiera wincing at the sudden chill. 

She pressed the probe to her abdomen, swirling a few times each way as Kiera watched her study the screen before deciding to fumble on her phone to distract herself of the discomfort. "Well, this is interesting." 

"What?" 

"I think I found the reason why you've been having your cramps." 

"Don't tell me it's a cyst on my ovary." 

"Can't find those with this type of ultrasound, dummy," Rachel poked, pointing to her screen. "You've got a little blip here." She finished, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile. You're going to be such a good mom, Kiera.

"A... baby?" 

Rachel nodded, "I'm glad you came to me today, but we need to keep an eye on you for a while. With you having an IUD and managing to get pregnant, you're at risk for a ectopic pregnancy." 

She heaved a heavy breath, her nerves rattling and her brain seeming to go in a spiral. He's going to leave me. He's going to leave me. "Wh-What's that?" 

"It's when the egg grows on the fallopian tube instead of your uterus. I'd say you're at about four weeks right now. I'll take a blood test from you today and have you come back after forty-eight hours to take another one. I need to keep an eye on your HCG levels. I'll do a vaginal ultrasound today too to make sure the gestational sac is in your uterus. If it is, then I'll have you come back in two weeks to check on it again." She explained, taking notice of Kiera's worry as she sat her phone aside and laid her head back on the bed, regulating her breathing at the news. 

"O-Okay." 

"You're worried he's going to leave, aren't you?" 

"Wouldn't be surprised. He doesn't take sudden news very well. He'll likely shut down and disappear for a while and leave me to wonder what he's thinking about." 

"He'll come back to you if he does that. All men are the same: they don't like talking about something that shocks them, so they shut down and give themselves space to think about it whereas us women want to talk about it now instead of later." 

"Fucking right." She sighed. 

"It'll be alright. I'm sure he's not going anywhere." 

"I hope not." 

*

With a folder of information in the passenger seat of her truck, she found herself resting her left hand on her stomach as she drove, curious about the life growing inside of her. Not only was this big news, but she had a decision to make that couldn't be taken lightly... 

She had to leave Shepherd alone. 

After a stressful cry, she pulled into the driveway of the ranch, slowly driving along the gravel to avoid harsh bumps to protect the life inside of her, everything seeming to come naturally to her as a newly expecting mother. Parking at the house, she looked out the passenger window at a group of riders trotting through the pasture, Teeter's head of purple hair indicating that the 141 was going on a final trail ride before their flight home, reminiscing on how they'd miss being there aside from the drama of Fernando being taken. All because of me, she frowned. 

Entering the house, she expected Simon to be among the group of riders, leaving her to cry in the emptiness of her own home, unaware that Simon was still in bed, the alarm on his phone bursting throughout the house. She walked into the bedroom to see him sleeping soundly, turned onto his stomach as his back embraced the cool air from the ceiling fan. Instead of waking him to let him aware of her return, she opened his phone to turn off his alarm, swiping up to clear out his previous apps to save the battery as he was notorious for not charging it. 

With her intrusive thoughts taking over, she inconspicuously tapped on his message app, seeing a recent text from an unmet friend of his - Ben.

Yesterday, 11:52 PM

Ben: The ball is next month on the 20th.

Simon: ok. I'll bring kiera with me. can't wait for you to meet her

Ben: Me too, mate. Hope she's making you happy.

Simon: more than you can imagine. convinced i've found my soulmate.

She smiled down at the phone, her chest fluttering at his words although she was expecting, out of past relationship experience, that he was talking about another woman, leaving her to, again, be the one that wasn't good enough.

Ben: Better put a ring on it before she wakes up and realizes who she's with. LOL!

Simon: thats the plan

Smiling, she cleared out the message's app, unsurprised that he had only been texting Ben, her, and Soap. Well, technically a group chat that was made for the members of the 141, leaving Soap and Gaz the only two that communicated through it, Simon occasionally replying a one-worded answer every now and then. She couldn't help but mask a giggle as he had, in fact, been Googling what an IUD was, his safari app on a website that explained in depth as to what it was. Shaking her head, she forced herself to quit invading his privacy as she sat his phone down, deciding to let him sleep even though she wanted nothing more than to nestle up against him, knowing she'd cry when he'd instinctively wrap his arm around her abdomen, afraid he'd take notice of a pending bump before she even had the chance to tell him. 

She quietly shut the door behind her, leaving Simon to rest in his truly relaxed state as she proceeded to lay on the couch, turning on the television to distract her thoughts of the sudden news, unable to keep herself from shedding tears again at the fear of him leaving her for being pregnant. How am I going to tell him? How am I going to tell my parents? 

*

A few hours later, she awoke to the smell of Simon's lingering cologne, indicating that he was up and nearby, Kiera suddenly remembering that he was going to ride with his teammates on the way back to the airport. "Funny how you'll sleep through a storm, but wake up when I'm trying to be quiet when walking around." He chuckled after noticing she had woken up, smirking at her messy hair and smeared mascara. It didn't take him long to realize she had been crying, but he didn't ask why. 

Not yet. 

"It's crazy, but I smelled you." She huffed. 

"So you're a bloodhound now, yeah?" 

"I guess so. Is it the afternoon already?" 

"Yeah," He nodded, pouring himself a cup of water before pouring a glass for her, meeting her at the couch to sit next to her, patting his lap for her to stretch her legs across him so he could rub her legs - something he found to enjoy. "We've still got a couple of hours before we have to go. Teeter told me she was going to take them out for a ride before they left." 

"I saw them riding out when I got back this morning. Knowing Teeter, her and Soap veered off to have one last time together for a while." 

The pair chuckled. 

"You're probably right," He nodded, ensuring to look at her as she drunk her water, taking the opportunity to really look at her to confirm his suspicions that she had been crying. He already knew - he was just mentally preparing himself for her to confirm it. "What did the doctor say?" 

"She took my IUD out. It was moved." 

"Guess I'll have to take it easy on you from now on." He smirked. 

"Yeah, because it hurt when she took it out and especially when she-" She cut herself off, knowing that Rachel didn't put a new one in, in confirmation that it would nearly terminate her pregnancy. She knew to cut herself off instead of saying that a new one was put in, knowing that Simon was more likely to understand the news of her pregnancy than to hear a lie. "-Had to find it." 

"I would've went with you if you wanted me to." 

No, I didn't. Especially with how I'm expecting you to react.

"It's okay. I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like that." 

"Do you have to go back?" 

"In a couple of days. You can go with me if you want. The appointment is in the afternoon." She winked, fighting the deep sigh as she expected him to not be around after she told him the news. 

"If you want me to," He assured her, massaging his heavy fingers against her semi-swollen ankles. "What's wrong?" 

She shook her head, "I've just been thinking." 

"Don't think too hard. Your head will explode," He poked, he too fighting a deep sigh as he wondered when she was going to tell him, taking notice of how hard it was for her to keep it a secret in fear of him leaving her. "What're you thinking about?" 

Her hands fumbled in her lap, looking down at her thumbs before she spoke, "After we find Shepherd, I think I'm going to resign as a Case Officer. I can't handle the thought of my family having to go through something like this again. The pain it caused my friends, my mother, the fights between me and Frankie, the constant worry, and the disappointment from my father. I can't handle that thought anymore, Simon." 

"You're not disappointing your father," He corrected, frowning at her worry. "You've had it handled since day one, love. You're very good at your job-"

"Maybe so, but I can't put my family in the line of fire anymore. This job has caused me more harm than good. You know that. This ranch is supposed to be a safe haven - somewhere we can all gather without having to worry about someone killing our cattle and taking our friend's son to hurt me. And I'm especially not putting my child in the mix of it all." She babbled, not realizing she had just unwillingly admitted what was bothering her while her mixed emotions took over, frowning as she felt Simon's hands stop massaging her ankles, letting himself fall into shock at what she had just said. 

He's going to leave. He's going to leave. 

"Are you fucking with me?" He asked, referring to their brief exchange of jokes earlier that morning. 

"I wish I was," She kept her eyes down, forcing the tears back as she was too scared to face him, expecting him to throw her legs off of his lap and retreat immediately as if she were comparing him to her abusive and former boyfriend. "I should've kept track of my IUD, but I didn't think nothing of it as it was pretty fucking hard to keep up with six months while deployed-" She babbled. 

His chest rose and fell heavily, containing his excitement as her emotions and his weren't twining together like they usually did. He sensed she was worried about something far more than just being pregnant and so was he, but there seemed to be something else that she wasn't telling him. "How far along are you?" 

"Sh-She said about four weeks," She sniffled, keeping her gaze at her lap and occasionally peering to her stomach, wondering what it was going to look like in a few weeks as this was her first time ever carrying a child. "I'm so scared, Simon." 

"Yeah," He scoffed. "Join the club." 

Fuck, that came out wrong, he grimaced to himself, shutting his eyes as he expected her to take it the wrong way, frowning at how she slowly pulled her legs from his lap, tears falling as she saw exactly what she expected: Simon let her. When usually, he would always pull her back to him when she would retreat. She needs her space. Maybe so do I...

She got up from the couch, rushing to their bedroom and wiping the tears from her eyes, leaving Simon in the couch to replay the wave of shock that he was conquering. She lay on their bed, pulling the pillow he had been laying on to comfort herself with the lingering scent he left behind, cherishing it as she expected him to get on the plane with the only family that he knew. Her tears stained the pillow, clutching it close as she whimpered, letting her phone play music from a playlist she was sure to make her cry. Just get it all out. Let your heart break before he does it for you. She squeezed her eyes shut as Zach Bryan's "Something in the Orange" started on her playlist, forcing the tears from her eyes as she assumed that's how her life was going to take charge after expecting Simon to retreat himself from her completely. 

"If you leave today, I'll just stare at the way the orange touches all things around; the grass, trees and dew, how I just hate you, please turn those headlights around..." 

Simon took advantage of the vape pen she left behind on the counter, taking a few long drags to help ease his nerves. He shook his head at himself for how harsh he sounded, but truly, he felt ten feet tall and bulletproof. His time to be a father - a better father than his own - had finally come. The emotions took over him as he found himself to push his palms against the counter, looking down at the granite as if he saw something in it, but he was just thinking about her words and how to handle it. 

Over and over again. 

He gave himself a few minutes to himself, taking consecutive drags from the vape pen as he knew Kiera wouldn't be needing it anymore, the familiar high he felt in his head taking away some of his nervous thoughts, thankful that he successfully fought the urge to want to open a pack of cigarettes instead of a fruity nicotine flavor, thankful that he found the strength within himself to not resort to old habits because of his nerves. 

Soon, he put aside his worrisome thoughts and found himself making his way to their bedroom, opening the door quietly to see Kiera curled up on the bed, frowning at how she clutched to his pillow as if she were mourning his loss. Her mascara left a dark trail on her cheeks while her gaze was fixated on nothing particular, whimpering as she took notice of his presence. "I'm sorry I took away your freedom," She sniffled over the low tone of her phone's speaker playing what seemed to be like a slow genre playlist, the upsetting tunes vowing to make her cry more than she already was. "Didn't even give you a chance to enjoy a relationship because I'm too stupid to check my birth control." 

Stop blaming yourself, love, he huffed. "No, you didn't," He replied, his voice low and absent of any anger or retaliation. "But that doesn't mean I'm wanting to leave it behind." 

He waited for her to look at him. Instead, he watched her close her eyes and her face curl into another sob. He didn't think it would bother him as much to see her cry, coming rather used to it after her sudden nightmares, but the way she cried in front of him now - it physically pained him. I'm not giving you your space anymore. You need me.

"I took your freedom away from you, Simon," She sniffled. "Instead of you worrying about what fight you're going to get into next, you'll have to worry about this baby-"

"Stop," He cut her off, moving to sit on the foot of the bed, still staying distant as he felt she needed her space, but was there just in case she wanted to cling to him. "I'd rather worry about you." 

"So you're telling me if Price were to call you right now and say that he needs you for a mission, you wouldn't go?" She scoffed. 

"No, I wouldn't," He huffed, his voice rising slightly to grasp her attention, but not negatively, but assuring. "Choices have consequences. Even if you made me go back, I wouldn't. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you when I couldn't be here to prevent it from happening." 

"You-You wouldn't?" 

"No. Before I met you, I would. I didn't have anybody at home waiting for me," He frowned, looking down at the floor as his hands were twined with each other, the sight of her in distress making him ill in the stomach. It's because of how you reacted, you idiot, he scoffed to himself. "Can I replace that pillow?" He asked, his dark irises looking at her hazel ones. 

"Please." She whimpered, taking the pillow and throwing it to the floor in an aggressive manner, causing him to chuckle as he found it humorous, bending down to pick it up and tossing it to the other many pillows decorating their bed. 

"That's my favorite pillow," He poked as he lowered himself onto the bed, opening his arm to her as she instinctively nestled up against him, his arm keeping her close to his torso, smirking slightly as he was growing eager to hear her complain about how she couldn't sleep up against him with her belly stopping her after a few months, the image of her carrying his child consuming him with immense pride. "You'll be shocked to hear this, but I'm scared, too." 

"Really?" 

He nodded, his cheek pressed against her forehead.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that you're scared," She sighed. "Why? I mean, you can do what some men do: they leave because they don't want to deal with." 

"That's where you have me confused, love. Those aren't men. Can't even face something they willingly caused and leave the other to deal with their problems. Leaving isn't in my vocabulary, priority is. Maybe when I was younger, I would've reacted differently, but not now." 

"You... You're not mad?" 

"Why would I be?" He scoffed. "Scared, yeah, but you're not going through this alone. I don't know why you think you are. I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to." 

"I don't know. I just... expected you to-"

"-to react like what you've probably experienced before. You've got me wrong." 

"I'm sorry..." 

"Don't be sorry. I'm not going anywhere." He whispered, assuring her by pressing a kiss to her forehead, feeling her sigh and relax her body against his - something he had been waiting for her to do. 

"How am I going to tell my dad?" 

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Don't rush yourself to babble it out like you did with me. We've got plenty of time. Just focus on keeping yourself relaxed." 

"Easier said than done, Simon." 

"I agree," He sighed, his gaze focusing on the ceiling above him, wondering how he was going to tell her the true reason why he was scared. It's not the right time... "I'll wake you up when we have to leave." 

"I'm not falling asleep." 

"Your mouth is saying that, but your body is telling me something different." 

"How so?" 

"You're relaxed. You never get up when you're relaxed." He breathed a chuckle, feeling her nuzzle her face into his chest grasping his shirt between her fingers as if she were begging him to not ever leave. I'm not going anywhere.

He stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the vague background noise coming from her phone, feeling her steady breaths against him while he held her, the music distracting him from his intrusive and past thoughts as he was grateful that he changed himself, knowing he wouldn't have even had a chance with Kiera if he was the way he was years ago. If you only knew... 

"Hey," He whispered, nudging her gently as she was teetering on the verge of sleep, feeling her hum in response. "You know I'm not good with words." 

"I know." 

"Just listen." He whispered, referring to the song that was playing, the first verse immediately making himself think about his past life, the lyrics seeming to say exactly what he had been wanting to say to her. 

"By your grace I have hope; You've already paid every debt I owe; Please take my chains and make me see that by your grace I've been set free..."

[robsth0r]

Food Fight (Loki x Reader)

A/N: I have been thinking about writing this for a long time but haven’t had the time to do it but i finally got to finish it!!

Warning: Nudity (non sexual), a little kising but mostly fluff.

Word count: 1728

I open my eyes rolling over looking at the red glowing numbers. 01:55. I groan but get up as I can feel that I aren’t gonna be able to sleep any time soon. My warm feet hit the cold floor of my bedroom as I silently walk to my door. The door handle feels cold against my warm hands as I creak the door open soundlessly. I walk out of my room into the hallway closing the door behind me. My stomach growls eagerly and I sigh. Well, food it is.

I walk to the kitchen opening the fridge to see if there’s anything easy and soundless to make. Well there’s leftover pizza- oh anyways it’s Nat’s pizza, and I am not gonna make the mistake of eating it again. I looked over the food quickly, deciding nothing special was there moving on the cabins. 

Before I get a grip on the handle of the cabin a couple cool hands rest on my waist. I smile to myself as I feel the familiar warm feeling in my stomach.

“Darling, what are you doing up this late?” Loki’s voice is a little raspy but no less soothing. I turn around to face Loki looking up at him as I am standing very close to him. In the dark I am only able to see his silhouette but his presence seems to make my whole body relax even more.

“Couldn’t sleep. Decided to go see if there was any food.” I say, my voice only slightly above a whisper. I relax into Loki placing my head on his chest, sighing. His hands go from my waist and over my shoulders, hugging me.

“You remember the brownie ingredients we bought with Peter earlier this week? How about we bake that?” He mumbles into my soft hair, and pulls away from the hug, letting his hands slide down to my waist again. I smile up at him at the thought of newly baked brownies. 

“Yes! I would love to.” I say slightly more energetic than last time I spoke. Brownies would make anybody less tired. Loki chuckles slightly at my outburst but proceeds to find the ingredients. Meanwhile I get two bowls and find the recipe we found on google the other day.

“Okay so this recipe says we should start with mixing the wet and dry ingredients in two different bowls,” I say gesturing to the two bowls I have just placed on the table, “I’ll take the dry and you’ll take the wet?” Loki nods, moving over to the larger bowl.

I pour sugar, flour, cocoa powder, powdered sugar, chocolate chips, and a little bit of salt. I mix the dry ingredients and Loki comes over and I take my bowl, pouring the dry ingredients into his bowl with wet ingredients.

As I am mixing in the ingredients together a big cloud of flour comes over me. I shriek at the sudden flour explosion. Loki bursts out laughing and I turn to see him standing with the flourbag in his hands and flour all over his right hand. I open my mouth in offense and put my hand on my chest as if I were taken aback, but before I get to say anything Loki digs his fingers into the flour once more, splattering it on me again.

That is the last straw for me and I pick up the cocoa powder and throw a hand full onto Loki. His face lights up in surprise at my suddenness and he flinches covering his face with his hands spilling loads of flour on the ground. At that we both start laughing hysterically. 

We both take handfuls of flour and cocoa powder getting ready to fire at the other. Right before he throws the flour at me I go to hide behind the counter making him miss me. I hear a muffled “Helvíti!” making me giggle. When Loki rounds the corner of the island counter I throw a surprise shot at him making him shriek before throwing loads of flour at me who is on the ground laughing.

“I give up! I give up!” I yell through my giggles making Loki stop the throwing, squatting down to me sitting lightly on top of my stomach. He wipes my mouth for flour and leans down, kissing me lightly. I relax at the touch of his lips and my hands land in his hair, combing it as our kiss deepens. When our lips part we both catch our breath and I feel a smile creep onto my lips.

“We should finish the brownies.” Loki says sitting down next to me. I sit up slowly with a sigh. 

“Yeah, we should.” I just answer. Loki gets up on his feet stretching his hands for me to take. I get up and we both go over to the brownie dough. I find a big pan for the dough while Loki turns on the oven to make it ready. The dough gets into the pan and we set it into the oven.

After I set a timer for the brownies, Loki and I just look at each other. Our hair is messy with both flour and cocoa powder in it and our clothes are covered in the ingredients as well. I giggle a little walking over to Loki wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Should we take a bath? I don’t think I can go a minute more with cocoa powder in my hair.” Loki says with a smile looking down at me. Not looking back I nod and he pulls back and takes my hand in his.

We walk down the hallway till we reach Loki’s room. As we enter the familiar scent comes over me and I take a deep breath relaxing. Loki leads me to the bathroom, closing the door behind us when we walk in. We get the water running and we both get undressed ready for the bath. 

“You first, my love.” Loki says gesturing to the big bathtub. I get into the hot water exhaling at the touch of the water. Loki folds the dirty clothes together, putting it into his laundry basket before getting into the tub with me. After getting all the way into the tub he starts moving over to me sitting himself behind me hugging my naked body. I lean into him feeling more relaxed than ever with Loki planting soft kisses on my jaw and neck. The butterflies in my stomach are going wild as I turn my head kissing Loki’s soft, perfect lips once again. God I’m lucky to have this magnificent person as my lover. 

We sit like that with Loki holding me for a little while till we remember we have to be quick with the brownies being in the oven and all. It seems we both remembered at the same time because just a moment later Loki stretched his arm over the edge of the tub grabbing the shampoo.

“May I have the honor of washing your hair?” Loki asks teasingly, making us both laugh a little. I nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than getting all the flour out of my hair. He starts massaging my scalp getting the shampoo into my hair. After that he washes it out, making sure there is no trace of flour left in my hair. We switch and I wash his hair.

We get out of the tub not long after Loki grabs two towels, throwing one at me which I catch easily. We get dry and it then hits me that I don’t have any of my own clothes with me. 

Loki seems to catch up with my thought process letting out a small “Ahh!” before disappearing out of the bathroom, while I take on my underwear. He returns with a handful of clothes, throwing them on the closed toilet seat. He hands me one of the many Thor t-shirts Thor has given him after he came to Earth to live here. I let out a little giggle at the memories of Thor’s puppy-like body language everytime he sees his beloved hammer on a shirt and how he will always scream “See! Y/n! There, Mjölnir on a shirt!” everytime.

We take on our matching pajama pants and I take on the Thor t-shirt, while Loki takes on a t-shirt with his helmet on, or well the t-shirt I gave him a few months back before we even started dating. My phone starts beeping from Loki’s room and I look up at Loki with a grin knowing the delicious snacks are ready at this very moment. I jump out of the bathroom excitedly earning a laugh from Loki.

We walk out of his room and back to the Kitchen which smells purely of brownies. I run over to the oven like any other child would have done looking through the glass “window” of the oven. They look done.

Loki has taken the pot holders on ready to take the brownies out. I open the oven for him, letting him take the pan out. He sets it on the counter next to the stove and I get a knife ready to cut it in pieces. I cut the brownies and I take up a piece for Loki, handing it to him.

“Here you go, my love.” I say as he takes it. I take a piece for myself as well and we both take a bite and as always it is amazing. Never disappoint. We eat a couple pieces more each when I suddenly feel a wave of tiredness come over me. Loki notices my change in body language and starts cleaning up after we have eaten and puts the brownies into the fridge of course remembering to leave a note close to it so there will be something when we wake up. The Avengers are brutal when it comes to food.

Loki comes over picking up my half asleep form from the chair I have sat myself on while he was packing down the brownies. He lifts me to his room laying me on his bed putting the covers over me and lays down next to me.

“I love you Y/n.” Loki whispers, kissing my forehead, making me snuggle into him even more. Like that we both fall asleep in each other's arms.

[gingersnaaps]

too much of a good thing

he's so sweet, so kind, so dumb - is bokuto really capable of anything besides the best intentions?

wc: ~2.7k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon sex to noncon creampie, manipulation, lovebombing and then neglect, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, a lil angst, timeskip!bokuto, fem!reader with inner genitals

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Being subtle was never really Bokuto’s thing, not even in the beginning.

In some ways, you suppose that you’re lucky - that you’re better off than your friends who you would always hear complaining, muttering about boys who didn't like to commit, didn’t like labels, who didn’t like texting first or buying gifts or putting in any effort at all.

Barely a week into your relationship, you come home from work with your head dizzy and feet aching from exhaustion, and discover a dozen bouquets of roses on your doorstep. Crimson petals are littered everywhere, strewn against the grey concrete of the steps, and although you feel your neck and face heating up with embarrassment at the grand gesture, you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

He really was so sweet. Who cares if he wasn’t exactly shy about expressing it?

None of the other guys you’ve dated before had sent you good morning texts quite like his, filled with exclamation points and emojis, and none of them had tried nearly as hard as Bokuto does with his breathy, eager i love you’s, his frequent hugs whenever he gets the chance to see you, or even his phone calls that come twice, three times, even four times in the middle of the day.

But the more days that pass by, the more intense it gets.

He picks you up after work all the time, cupping your face in his hands, eyes gleaming almost unnaturally bright. “I love you,” he’ll whisper. “You’re so wonderful, baby. You’re perfect. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

You can’t help but think that these are the sort of words that come months into a relationship, if not years, but… there’s nothing really wrong with what he’s doing, is there? There’s no reason you should be uneasy, no indication of even the slightest hint of trouble on his part.

You’re probably just paranoid.

Bokuto doesn’t stop at words, though - he earns a good sum of money from his job playing professional volleyball, and he’s never hesitant to use it on you. A week after he leaves you the roses, he asks you out on a date to a restaurant you know is ridiculously expensive, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you scroll through pictures of the establishment on Google Images.

“I don’t think I can afford it, Bo,” you tell him, voice hesitant and crackly over the phone. “If we go, I won’t be able to pay my share.”

“So?”

It’s just a word, but the implication isn’t lost on you. And if he’s fine with paying for you, if he’s okay with the hundreds of dollars you’ll be owing him, well - there’s no good reason to turn him down, right?

During the date, you talk with him as you spoon bites of delicate food into your mouth. The restaurant is too lavish, the plush velvet carpeting and crystal chandeliers almost a parody of luxury. You’re pretty sure the utensils are half the price of your rent.

He leans over in the middle of the meal, expression suddenly serious. “You’re enjoying this, right?” he asks.

“I am. I’m kinda lucky, aren’t I? Being spoiled like this.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his grin so bright it could rival the sun. “You really are.”

And suddenly - just for a moment - you catch a glimpse of something slightly off about his whole expression, as if it was a mask waiting to be ripped off to reveal something much, much different underneath, but the fleeting moment is gone so quickly you convince yourself that it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Bokuto has been nothing if not perfect, after all. If you’re uneasy, it’s probably just because you aren’t used to being treated like this, aren’t used to someone that lavishes you with constant gifts and praise and displays of affection like he does. On the way back in the taxi, he whispers everything he loves about you softly in your ear, his arm snaking around your waist as his thumb rubs tender circles into your skin. His body is pressed so close to yours, his breath gently tickling your ear, warmth radiating out from his firm, muscled body.

He’s so good to you.

-

It doesn’t last forever.

Bokuto’s affection dries up slowly, but his presence has been such a constant in your life that it’s impossible for you not to notice.

Some mornings, you find yourself waking up to a hollow feeling in your chest as you check your message notifications and find nothing - no late night rants, no funny pictures, no enthusiastic, joyful good morning texts. During the day, the silence now stretches on for hours too long, uncomfortably empty and devoid of the persistent calls that you used to get every single hour.

When he does see you, he’s remarkably reserved - eyes always downcast, fingers fidgeting incessantly, clearly disinterested in what you’re doing, what you’re saying - in fact, disinterested in all of you.

Maybe he’s just busy with volleyball, you rationalize, but your stomach churns with anxiety and deep down, you know that something’s changed.

You try and ignore the dull ache inside of you that seems to follow you around wherever you go, a little voice inside your head constantly reminding you of what Bokuto used to do. Two months ago, he would’ve picked you up. He would’ve sent you flowers today. He would’ve taken you out to eat.

It builds up slowly and steadily, a crescendo of pain that grows in volume the longer he’s gone, like a tidal wave of confusion and hurt that swirls around inside you - until one day, you’re sitting by yourself in the car, sobbing quietly in the cramped darkness.

At least he doesn’t turn you away when you show up on his doorstep.

Your eyes are rimmed with red, streaks of eye makeup running down your face as a frown twists at his features. “Please, Bo,” you whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”

And you’re not exactly sure what you did, but you want to fix it, want him back in your life, want to wake up to his smiles and his laughter and his incessant, boundless energy, and you know you’re willing to do anything to get that back.

“Really?” he asks, eyes glimmering faintly with hope.

You nod almost imperceptibly, about to reply yes, yes, want you back so bad, when he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls you in for a kiss so passionate it borders on harsh. It’s a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, a mix of sucking and licking and biting that leaves you gasping for breath, your red lips swollen and slick with spit.

He pulls you inside, his hands roaming all over your body, groping and squeezing at your supple flesh, goosebumps running down your spine as he brings a hand up to brush against your nipple. For the first time in weeks, you see excitement on his face, and his voice trembles as he leans close in. “Let me take care of you,” he says. “Wanna make you feel good.”

And even though there’s apprehension crawling under your skin at his sudden mood swing, you’re so, so glad this version of Bokuto is back that you brush off that hesitation, the mixture of happiness and anticipation overwhelming every single thought in your mind.

As his fingertips graze the soft skin of your torso, his hands - so much larger than yours - maneuver your body around with such ease and grace that you barely notice when you end up on his couch, legs spread wide open as he looks up from between your thighs hungrily. “I - fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, out of breath, eyes running over the swollen outline of your cunt.

You whimper softly as his nose brushes up against your clit, his piercing, golden eyes still gazing intently up at you.

He doesn’t waste any of his time teasing you, his flat of his tongue sliding up along your slit with the perfect amount of pressure to leave you squirming. It’s almost as if he knows exactly where to lick and suck, eagerly pressing his tongue up against your clit in insistent circles, lapping at your dripping pussy until your juices are running down his chin. He’s so eager in between your legs, and everytime he finds a spot that makes your legs tremble needily, he gives it so much attention that you already start to feel that wave of pleasure building in your core.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, your hands sliding into his hair as your hips thrust upwards. “Please.”

Bokuto doesn’t need you to tell him that. Shouldn’t have wasted your breath, he thinks idly, diving in and eating you out with renewed vigor.

When his tongue glides around your spasming cunt and dips in briefly, you can’t stop the moan that tumbles from your lips. His tongue is so stupidly long and flexible, sliding inside and licking at your sensitive walls, curling up and brushing against your g-spot until you start to shudder and tremble under him.

You cum embarrassingly quick, your hips jerking and stuttering wildly as he finishes you off. He fucks you through your orgasm, sucking gently at your clit until the border between pain and pleasure starts to blur and you’re moaning so loudly he thinks the neighbors will have complaints for him the next morning.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“How about another?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“I think you can handle it, right?” a huge grin splits his face as he spreads your pussy apart with two fingers, looking at your swollen, spent cunt. He barely gives your chance to respond before he trails his fingers against your lips, fingers teasing in and out of your slick entrance.

This time, Bokuto uses his hands to stretch you out, inserting his digits one by one until three of his thick, long fingers are nestled inside of your pussy. He thrusts them languidly in and out, his fingertips caressing your nerves until you’re tense and wound up for him again.

“Come on,” he encourages. “You can take it.”

Your brain is hazy from the stimulation, barely registering anything but pleasure as his fingers search and probe like they have some sort of job to do. You feel damp with heat and moisture, the pulsing, burning need in between your legs insistent and demanding.

“Almost there,” he breathes, voice raspy with arousal. A fourth finger brushes up against your lips, and the thought of more stretch, more stimulation, more pleasure, has you clenching desperately against the ones that your cunt is already spread out on.

You sob, your body strung out and wrecked, suspended on the tipping point of another orgasm.

As you cum again, the feeling of relief - white-hot and blinding - rips along your core. You’re not sure you’ve experienced anything quite so intense before, and as you look down at him, hands still manipulating your cunt so expertly, you don’t know if he has the intention of stopping anytime soon.

He stands up and your eyes drift to his cock, flushed purple and almost painfully hard, dripping with precum. His hand strokes along his shaft, soft curses muttered under his breath, but he opens them wide again and looks down at you sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice pleading. “I don’t have any condoms.”

Bokuto sounds so genuine, his tone kind and filled with regret, and guilt begins to sting at your conscience. He’s made you feel so fucking good, given you the best orgasms of your life - is it really fair if you leave him wanting and unsatisfied?

You’re fucked halfway out of your mind when you answer, eyes still fixated on his cock, head swimming with thoughts of how much you want to please him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your words slurred and hesitant. “You can.. you can use me. Use my pussy to get you off. Jus’ pull out at the end.”

Ecstasy flashes across his face, and he looks down eagerly. “Fuck, babe. You’re so perfect. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard those words for weeks.

His strong arms pick you up easily, maneuvering you around until he’s the one sitting on the couch and your cunt is positioned right over his dick. His hands grip tightly at your waist, fingertips pressing so insistently that you’re sure you’ll wake up the next morning with bruises dotting your skin. He lowers you down slowly, carefully, groaning as he fills you up and the warmth of your cunt envelopes him whole.

He already looked big, just from the cursory glance you’d taken earlier, but as you feel the tip of his cock shove against your cervix, your breath almost catches at how you feel your walls expanding to accommodate all of him.

The drag of his curved cock up against your sensitive walls leaves your legs trembling and squirming, but he holds you firmly down as he thrusts up inside over and over. “Stay still,” he coos. “Let me take care of you.”

Bokuto starts off gently, fucking you with shallow little thrusts that have you panting with desperation. He can tell by the way your cunt is fluttering that you're craving more, that the two orgasms he gave you earlier just wasn’t enough for a greedy girl like you, and he relishes the way your small hands grip desperately at his shirt.

He raises you up off his cock, running the tip up and down your slit until your pussy throbs, and slams you back down again. The rhythm he maintains is steady and even, bouncing you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, whispering stuttered curses and phrases of endearment against your ear, making you shiver from the overload of stimuli.

“Feels so amazing,” he moans. “Gonna.. Gonna cum soon.”

The heat in your core grows intense at the thought of his orgasm, involuntarily whining, and you start to rock your hips back and forth in an attempt to search out more friction.

Bokuto knows he promised to pull out. He knows that it wouldn’t be right if he stayed buried inside your cunt. But how is he supposed to stop himself when you feel this good, wrapped so obediently around him like a perfect little fuck doll? And the heat of your cunt is gripping incredibly tight all around his length, your little squirms and shivers so adorable as he uses you to get himself off.

He can’t help himself.

With one last, desperate thrust, he lets go, thick spurts of cum filling you up until he’s sure your insides are dripping white, and he caresses your stomach where your womb would be in satisfaction. It feels so good to cum inside of a tight cunt, much better than it would’ve if he’d forced himself to pull out, he thinks. And you look so pretty all full and leaking with his seed.

It takes you a moment to fully register the warm, wet feeling pooling inside you, your brain too fucked out, too stupid from the constant stimulation to truly understand what exactly dripping from your slit is.

When you do realize - oh god, he came inside me - panic starts to grip at the edges of your frayed nerves, your vision tunneling as the magnitude of what had just happened hits you. Tears start to blur the world around you, the dim lighting of his living room merging the furniture and warping the walls, and you faintly register the feeling of arms wrapped tight around you, a hand reaching up to caress soothingly at your cheek.

“You know,” Bokuto whispers, face lit up in wonder. “I think we’re soulmates.”

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes Imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 3

Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: After finding Sharon in Madripoor, you learn about the creator of the soldier serum (Based on S1 EP3)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 3,457

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language.

Once you arrived at Sharon’s you were itching to get out of the costume Zemo cooked up for you. 

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.” Sam gawked at Sharon’s place which was full of art work and collectables. 

“I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I’ll get for a real Monet?” Sharon shrugged as she lead you through her gallery. 

“Easy...Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.” Sam didn’t believe her as he stared at the artwork. 

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” Zemo defended Sharon as he followed her.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky informed Sam. 

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” Sam pulled out his phone and started searching a nearby paining. 

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Bucky teased him for it. 

“No shit.” Sam muttered as the realisation hit him. 

“You guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour.” Sharon beckoned you along to which you were silently thankful for. 

Sharon was kind enough to let you look through her vast collection of clothes until you picked out something you liked. 

“Hey... You okay?” You asked softly. 

You and Bucky were alone with your backs to each other as you changed in one of Sharon’s many rooms.

“I’m fine.” Bucky replied quietly. 

You knew he wouldn’t be fine after having to act like the winter soldier again. You watched him at that bar. He didn’t hold back when he attacked those men. 

“Buck, you know you can’t lie to me.” You tried to keep it light but Bucky wasn’t having it. 

“I’m not.” 

You didn’t push.

“Hey, will you zip me up?” You asked after stepping into your dress. You didn’t turn but you could hear Bucky’s footsteps as he approached you. 

You felt the cold of his fingers brush against your back as he slowly zipped up the dress. 

You turned when the zip reached the top. 

“Thanks.” You whispered. 

Bucky’s eyes were burning through you as he admired your choice of dress. 

“You look beautiful.” Bucky murmured, his eyes taking in every detail. 

“You scrub up quite nicely yourself.” You smiled as you admired Bucky in the suit Sharon had given him. You couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach as you thought about a possible normal circumstance Bucky could wear something like this. Like a date. 

“Come on.” Bucky took your hand and lead you to the door that would take you back to the others. 

“It’s alright. I’m gonna sort my hair out. Running through Low-town didn’t exactly do it any favours.” You retracted your hand and returned to the mirror. Bucky hesitated didn’t question you. 

“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” Sharon’s voice filled the room as you  heard the door open again. “Thought the two of you’d be together by now.”

“We’re coworkers. We’ve always been coworkers.” You were wary of Sharon’s new found attitude.

“Oh please. You two have wanted to jump each others bones the whole time I've known you.” Sharon rolled her eyes at you as she slump down on the love seat beside you.

You remained silent as you brushed through your hair. 

“Oh come on.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “You two have never?” 

“No.” You said almost too quickly. 

“Well it’s only a matter of time. I don’t know why you are dragging it out so long.” Sharon sighed dramatically as she picked at the fabric on the settee. 

“I don’t know why everyone is so invested in mine and Bucky’s relationship.” You spun around to face her. “You. Sam. Steve. You all poke and prod but you don’t take into consideration all the factors.”

“No you don’t take into consideration that there’s only so much time before one day you’re shot or killed or you have to go on the run and never see him again. You need to grow some balls, (y/n).” Sharon didn't bother sticking around after that. 

You groaned and closed your eyes. 

When you finally decided to rejoin the group, they were discussing Sharon’s status in Madripoor.

“What’s going on, Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?” Sam asked as he put on a shirt. 

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.” Sharon replied pretty matter-of-factly as she walked over to her desk. 

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but after the Blip and the chaos, I just––” Sharon cut Sam off before he could explain himself. 

“––Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy. 

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo felt the need to jump in. 

“By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked.

“Don’t get me started.”Bucky grumbled.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” Sharon smirked as she sat down beside Bucky.

“Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” Bucky said as he looked over at you.

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” You took the initiative to change the topic back to the reason you were here in the first place. 

“You guys really should steer clear of all of this for your own safety.”Sharon warned you as she shook her head. 

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the one who cracked the code.” Sam took the chair beside Sharon as he spoke. 

“We got a name. Wilfred Nagel.” Bucky told her. 

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.” Sharon informed you as she stood to pour herself a drink. 

“We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared.” Sam offered. 

“You haggling with my life?” Sharon smirked again.

“Not like that.” Sam shook his head. 

“I don’t buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name.” Sharon leant back against her bar. 

“Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.” Sam approached her with his good old puppy dog eyes. 

“I heard that.” Bucky frowned, unimpressed by Sam’s use of example. 

“I don’t trust charity.” Sharon sighed. 

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your name cleared.” Sam offered his hand. 

“Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I’ll see what I can find.” Sharon took the deal. 

The party seemed to suddenly start. 

Within minutes the whole place was jam packed. Music suffocated the space and the smell of sweat and alcohol was growing.

You stayed in between Sam and Bucky as you walked single file through the gathering. You reached back and linked fingers with Bucky’s to make sure you didn’t get parted in the crowd. 

As the bar came into view, you felt a hand grab your ass. 

“Hey!” Bucky took hold of the stranger and slammed him against the nearest wall. Holding him by the throat. 

Sam was there to diffuse the situation in a second. He placed a. hand on Bucky’s shoulder to pull him away. 

“Lay low remember.” Sam repeated what Sharon had told everyone over the blaring music. 

Bucky released the creep and stepped back. 

That gave you enough space to send your own punch. The man cried out, sliding down the wall and cradling his gushing nose. 

“Looks like she does not need help.” Zemo chimed in. 

You all left the guy without drawing too much attention to yourselves. 

The music wasn’t exactly your taste and you knew that it definitely wasn’t Bucky's but that didn’t stop you from taking him away from Sam and Zemo. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked you. 

“Got a bit boring just standing there, no?” You smirked. 

“You can’t expect me to dance to this, can you?” Bucky grimaced at the pulsing beat that classified as music. 

“You can try.” You smirked as you brought yourself closer to the man. 

You moved your body to the music, smiling widely him as he awkwardly tried to sway to it.��

“I thought you were a good dancer?!” You teased Bucky as you watched him. 

“I was!” Bucky defended himself. “When the music was Louis Armstrong and Glenn Miller!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the man before wrapping your arm around his neck. 

“You gotta move a bit more like this.” You tried to show him, taking his hand and placing it on your hip. 

Bucky was starting to look a little less like a grandpa as he got into the groove of it. 

His eyes were locked on you, a small smile on his lips. He looked undeniably handsome. 

“I think you’re getting it.” You leant up by his ear to tell him. 

“Well, we can’t look any worse than Zemo.” Bucky pointed through the crowd where Zemo was dancing. 

You burst into laughter at the sight of the war criminal dancing and buried your face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky laughed next to your ear. It was a rare genuine sound that sent tingles through your head. 

“Come on.. Let’s get some water.” You left the dance floor and rejoined Sam by the bar where he had started to speak to some other guests.

Sharon approached you a little while later with some good news and so you all immediately left the party. 

“Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam stated as you arrived at the location of Nagel. 

“They know how to party.” Zemo agreed. 

You followed Sharon through the shipping container yard as she searched for the right one.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” Sharon stopped and pointed over to a red container. “All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

“You want me to stick around out here with you in case you run into trouble?” You asked her as you all took an ear piece. 

“I’ll be alright. I’ll call if I need any back up.” Sharon dismissed your offer before walking away. 

You all entered the container cautiously before Sam contacted Sharon. 

“Hey, Sharon. You sure this is the right one? It’s completely empty.” He was right. To the eye, it was empty. 

“Positive. It has to be.” Sharon replied. 

You shared a look between Sam and Bucky as Zemo felt around the. back of the container. 

Suddenly, it shifted and a hidden door opened. 

Soft music played from below along with a muffled voice. 

It has to be Nagel. 

Sam, Bucky and you all went in armed. 

You silently negotiated between each other which urged Sam to go ahead and cut the music. Nagel spun around at the intrusion. 

“Dr. Nagel?” Sam inquired. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” The man wasn’t intimidating and didn't seem to have any weapons around him but you had learnt in the past not to underestimate your opponent.

“We know you created the super-soldier serum.” Sam informed him. 

“Get out of my lab.” Nagel demanded pretty boldly considering Sam was the one with the gun. 

“Hey! You know who he is, right?” Sam asked as he caught the shocked look on Nagel’s face at the sight of Bucky.  This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right? You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.”Nagel smirked. 

“Guys, we have company.” Sharon’s voice whispered through the ear piece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go.” 

“I’ll go up.” You lowered your gun from Nagel and went to turn when Sam stopped you. 

“No, we might need you.” Sam meant he might need your powers. 

“But...” You gestured to your ear. 

“She didn’t ask for back up.” Sam argued. 

You sighed but listened to Sam. 

Bucky moved Nagel over to a chair. He held his gun to the man’s temple. 

“Here’s your counter offer.” Bucky shot next to Nagel’s head which worked wonders to make him talk. 

“Okay. Okay. I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?” You asked, your eyes flicking over at Sam. 

“Because… Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” Nagel explained. 

“How many vials did you make?” Sam asked. 

“Twenty. Karli Morgenthau stole those, so I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.” 

“Where’s Karli now?”You stepped forward, rolling up your sleeve as a warning.

“I don’t know where she is. But a couple of days ago, she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” You took a mental note of the name Nagel mentioned. 

“Well, what happened to her?” You pushed

“Not my pig. Not my farm.” Nagel shrugged. 

You looked back at Sam with a look asking if you should check if he's telling the truth but Sam shook his head. 

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky asked. 

Nagel sent Bucky a deep glare but Bucky’s gun brought forth the answer. 

“No.”

“Now what?” Bucky asked you and Sam. 

“Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” Sharon bursted in, looking a little battered. 

All of a sudden, Zemo pulled a gun out and shot Nagel. 

“No!” Sam cried out

You lunged forward and reached for the man’s arm. If you could catch his final moments of life leaving his body you could still get the memories but as you hand touched his skin all you saw was darkness. 

You screamed as you went blind. 

You felt a pair of hands pull you up from the ground to which you could only assume was Bucky. 

“What did you do?!” Sharon gasped at Zemo’s action. 

“I can’t see, Buck.” You felt your whole body go limp in his arms as you muttered those final words before you passed out. 

When you felt your eyes open again, you were out of the container. Gun shots were muffled in your eyes as you heard Bucky and Sam arguing. 

You were covered in dust and you didn’t have your gun. 

“Where’s my gun?” You asked. That’s when the boys realised you were awake. 

You only managed to crawl over to Bucky to take it from him and start to fire. 

Your aim was off from how exhausted you were but the adrenaline was there enough for you to get a good few shots in. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as the firing stopped. Zemo was busy taking out the remaining bodies so it gave you time to sit back again. 

“Not really.” You shook your head. Your body felt cold and darkness still clouded the corners of your vision. It’s what happened when you tried to get the memories from a dead body, all you could see and feel is death. Your powers only worked on living people or people close to death. 

“Come on.” Bucky lifted you up, tucking his arm underneath you to keep you steady on your feet. 

You only lasted being half dragged/half running before Bucky picked you up. You hated being carried but this was a life or death situation. 

“Buck!” Sam shouted as some more bounty hunters appeared. Bucky put you down and you fell against the container door as he used a broken off pipe to fight them off. 

“Let’s go!” Sam tugged you both inside.

Bucky kicked open the back of the container so you could escape, only for you to be met by Zemo in a swanky getaway car. 

“Supercharged.” Zemo gestured to his ride. 

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam told Zemo. 

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo asked. 

“He’s right. We need him.” You tried to speak but your throat was hoarse. 

“And there’s only three of us, and at least 20 of them.” Bucky added. 

“Fine. But if you try that shit again...” Sam warned him. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo stated. Not that he was to be trusted. 

Sam helped you into the back seat. There was concern painted across his face. 

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon sighed as she placed her hands on the car. 

“Come back to the States with us.” Sam tried to persuade her. 

“I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me.” Sharon reminded him of the deal they made. 

“Thanks for everything.” Sam nodded. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. 

You laughed weakly as you remembered the same conversation back when Steve was still around. 

Back on Zemo’s plane, you took a position on the small couch with Bucky. You were resting your eyes but trying to stay awake as you listened to the boys talk. 

“Donya Madani. She’s a refugee, yeah.” Sam had contacted Torres about the woman Nagel had mentioned. “Call me if you get a hit. --- Thanks, Torres.”

“You okay?” Bucky asked Sam as Sam slouched down.  

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well, it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.” Bucky looked up from cleaning his hand. 

“Yeah, I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.” Sam confessed. 

“You did.” Bucky agreed with that statement and so did you but you kept your eyes closed. 

“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. Maybe I should have destroyed it.” Sam didn’t say what you expected. 

“Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain’t gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.” Bucky turned to face Sam as he spoke. You felt the couch shift.

Sam then got a call with the information on Madani. 

“They found Madani… Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go. I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.” Zemo’s voice was the last thing you remembered before waking up at landing. 

“Hey sleepy head.” Bucky whispered quietly. He’d rather be caught dead than let Sam hear him say that. 

“Have we landed?” You asked as you rubbed your eyes. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “Come on.” 

It didn’t take too long to get to Zemo’s place but when you did, Bucky decided to break away. 

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky announced before you entered the building. 

“You good?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded as he stepped away. 

“Be careful.” You warned him. 

You knew Bucky needed his space sometime but now wasn’t the best time for him to just be wandering the streets. Especially if Walker clocks on it was you three that broke Zemo out of prison. 

“Always.” Bucky winked at you before finally leaving. 

But that was a bad feeling in your gut. 

(PART 4)

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16@shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch@thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts @themaddies-obx @avenging-parker @delilahsdaydream​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @purplewcrld​ @opheliaaaa​

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

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

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[reidisreading]

Sleep Deprivation - Spencer Reid x Reader

Writing Prompt: Spencer Reid is so sleep deprived he doesn’t notice his actions and accidentally crosses a line with reader. Reader ends up being abducted by unsub and Spencer has to make a choice towards his feelings to reader.

POV: Third Person POV but following certain characters.

Spencer Reid with they/them Reader

Type: angst with fluff at the end

warnings / trigger warnings: abduction, mentions of killing, subtle mentions of some sort of mental illness, reader gets hurt physically (punching, etc.), mild cursing.

*author note* Hi, this is my first story and I just wanted to get it out of my google drive page. I didn’t proofread this at all so there’s probably plenty of mistakes (if there is just tell me). I promise future stories will be a lot better than this. 

*word count: 4,100*

To the outside world, Spencer Reid was the perfect person in control of all aspects of his life. 

The problem with Spencer Reid was that he was too smart and active for his own safety. He struggled with sleep deprivation among other things that made it hard for him to keep track of himself. At this exact moment he was struggling with holding six hours of sleep in the last three days. He knows the dangers, he sees statistics, but when he closes his eyes all he can do is see Y/N in danger like in their last case and he can’t go through that. Not again, not when he was the one that found them all bloodied and almost unconscious. This was Spencer’s third cup of coffee in just that morning and the clock hadn’t turned to seven thirty, yet. He finished the last sip and rushed out the door to head to the subway, his hatred for driving now a good thing with his exhaustion getting in the way. A buzzing came from his satchel as he got on his seat, the subway less full than usual. SSA Hotchner Calling 

“Good morning.” Reid’s husky voice shone through the speaker. 

“Good morning, Reid, we have a new case in California, how far away are you?” Hotch said anxiously.  

“Twenty five minutes away, including the walk.” Reid says confidently. 

“Okay, head straight to the bullpen on your way in. We have no time to waste.” Hotch says before hanging up the phone. Reid finished reading the book he started that same morning and moved on to the second book he had stashed in his bag on his way out. 

“Platform-.” He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings as he got off the cart and walked towards his job. The smell of the station made his nose hurt as he remembered previous cases of ill intent people doing foul things to their surroundings. 

Get it together, Reid. You can’t walk in there distracted, they’ll know something is wrong. You can’t have Penelope and JJ worried all over you. You especially can’t have Y/N worried for you, you need to keep your head leveled around them. 

It was probably easy to guess that their last case had taken the hardest toll on Spencer. His feelings for Y/N making it difficult to concentrate when the unsub had taken them as a means to keep the FBI scared. Spencer had spent most of his time away in a small office hunched over papers and profiles trying to get them back. 

“Good morning, Doctor Reid.” The receptionist greeted the young doctor. 

“Good morning!” Spencer said in a matched tone. He walked to the elevator, hitting the familiar key without looking at it at all. 

Okay, you need to wake up and be alert. No dozing off like you’ve been doing today. You have a job to do, people are counting on you. Spencer repeated the same words to himself like a mantra until he saw the clear doors to the BAU main office. 

Penelope Garcia POV

We have a tablet for Hotch, Rossi, JJ, Emily, of course, Chocolate Thunder, and using paper we have Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N. They would be so cute together, those two. I know I could find a way for Hotch to let them be together if only they would admit their feelings for each other, this is ridiculous. It’s very obvious to everyone but those two that they’re the perfect match made. Ironic how the two smartest people to enter this building are too oblivious to notice this. If I had a nickel for every time-

“How we looking, Baby Girl?” Morgan interrupted Garcia from her ramble. 

“Like I’d rather be watching something where someone doesn’t die.” She answered annoyed. 

“Don’t we all?” He shook his head as he took his tablet, scanning some of the images, the flash of hurt running through his facial features like a marathon. 

“Okay, we’re just waiting for Reid but he should be here any second.” Hotch says stressed while sitting down. The rest of the team, sans Reid, pile into the room taking their respective seats. Everyone opens their files on their tablets while Y/N scans through their paper folder. 

“Where is Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked looking directly at Y/N as if they would know anything; thankfully Y/N was too focused on the case in front of them to pay any attention. 

“Stop it.” Garcia whispered to him. Morgan looked at her and laughed while shaking his head. 

It’s safe to say that the entire team knew that those two were crushing on each other, they had that energy about them. 

Garcia got up from her seat, ready to direct the team along JJ on their latest case when the Boy Genius walked into the room in a hurry, his satchel already in his hands ready to be removed from his body. 

“I’m sorry, there was a minor mishap and- not important, sorry.” He said while moving towards his seat which was conveniently next to Y/N’s. He stopped next to them, giving them a light kiss on the head before moving to his seat, the small action causing everyone in the room to fall into a heavy silence. He didn’t seem to notice this small movement as he continued on with his regular routine of taking everything off to focus on the file in front of him. “What’s going on in California?” He asked looking up at Garcia, only to notice her stunned expression. “What?” He asked looking at the rest of the team, noticing their silence and awkward glances at each other. The only one not looking at anyone in particular was Y/N. 

“Nothing.” Garcia said while turning around to look at the slide show. 

“Family in California was brutally murdered in their home. Father was moved away from them, from the shows of it, it seems to have been postmortem.” Garcia says while looking at JJ frantically. 

“Two children were left in the closet- I’m sorry, I can’t do this. Reid, what was that?” Hotch asked while he asked JJ to pause the slideshow and turned to look at one of the two younger members of the team. 

“Hotch, no.” Garcia whispered. He’s going to ruin everything! No! We FINALLY have something that officially indicates one of them feels something. 

“I-I don’t understand?” Reid says confused. 

“Pretty Boy coming out of his shell.” Morgan chuckles. 

“What?” Reid asks, still confused. 

“You just kissed Y/N.” Emily says sliding closer to him. 

“I did what?” Reid asked with a raised tone. 

“Reid, what’s going on?” Rossi asks. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Reid said genuinely concerned.

“You look tired.” Emily said, “well, I mean, more than usual.” She says worried. 

“I mean, I haven’t really slept but it’s not that bad.” 

“How much is ‘not that bad’?” Hotch asks. 

“Six.” Reid whispered. 

“Six hours daily?” Hotch presses. 

“The last three days.” Reid finishes. 

“Reid, no.” Emily says sadly. 

“Can we get back to the case?” Reid asks, the entire room shifting energy. Y/N staying quiet as possible. It didn’t slip anyone’s notice that Y/N didn’t try to move from Reid, it was almost like they were shifting closer to him. 

“Okay, uhm, two children were left in the closet, their hands tied behind their back and their mouths covered with electrical tape. It seems like most of the extra things the unsub did were postmortem because the children were tied and silenced after this unsub killed them.” Garcia said. 

“The mom seems to have had the most anger targeted. She had leisure wounds around her neck and wrists, but that’s not what killed her. She was drowned in the bathtub, and it seems he may have stabbed her multiple times postmortem, too.” Y/N says as they go through their own file. 

“Maybe they had a bad relationship with a maternal figure and they’re looking for ways to get back at her.” Rossi says. 

“Any reason why the unsub may have targeted this family?” Hotch asks. 

“None that I’ve found yet, sir.” Garcia answers. 

“Okay, wheels up in thirty. Reid, I need to talk to you privately.” Hotch says as he dismisses the team. 

Arron Hotchner I will have a word with you.

Spencer Reid POV

“I need you to stay at the base for this one.” Hotch says automatically. 

“What? No, I can’t.” Reid replies. 

“Yes. What happened there is only a glimpse of what can happen in the future, Reid. I cannot take the risk with the rest of the team. You stay here, work the case, and rest up. Sleep deprivation can cause memory loss and you’re already seeing the side effect. I can’t put you or others in danger.” 

“Hotch, please.” Reid whispers. 

“Y/N will be okay, I promise Reid.” Hotch said sternly. 

“That’s not-.” Reid cut himself short. 

“Your job now is to stay here and look at everything we can’t. Come up with theories. I have to go.” Hotch starts to walk away, “and I want you to get home at a reasonable time to sleep. I need you in future cases.” He finishes, walking towards the last of his paperwork and walks out of the room. Reid looks around the room and spots Penelope at the door, trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous. 

“Let’s go Pen.” Reid calls out to her and picks up his own file. 

“Reid, I don’t think Y/N-.”

“Pen, please.” Reid stops mid track, “I’m not allowed to go and I’m already exhausted as it is. Please, let’s just focus on this.” He says to her as he turns around and comes face to face with Y/N. “Hi.” He whispers. 

“Hi.” 

“Are you- is everything okay?” He hushes. 

“Yeah, I just came to say bye to you both. We’re on our way out.” Y/N replies looking at Reid like a fragile doll, if they moved too fast, he may break. 

“Be safe.” He says, almost so quiet they miss it. 

“Always am.” Y/N replied with a smile, “see you, Pen.” They waved at each other before Y/N finally walked away from them. 

“Oh you’re smitten to the T.” Penelope teased. 

“Penelope Garcia, there’s a room we need to get to and have no time to talk nonsense.” Reid said frustrated. 

“Oh, we can most definitely talk while we’re in there mister Doctor Genius.” She giggled walking away from him. 

“No, Penelope.” He says in a rushed tone as he jogs behind her. 

————————

“Hello my furry friends, what can I do ya for?” Penelope asked in an enthusiastic tone. 

“I need you to give me any and all financial statements about this family. Down to what they spent money on leisurely.” Hotch said not bothering to comment on her strange wording. 

“Anything I should be looking for?” She asked. 

“Yes, anything that may have been spent on from time to time. No cycle, something that if anyone looking wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.” Emily pipes in. 

“Reid?” Y/N called out, Reid’s cheeks automatically turning a bright red, he’s ears matching. 

“Yeah?” He asked in a high pitched tone before clearing his throat, calling out to them again, “how can I help?” He asked. 

“I found some letters and cards and they look like different people wrote them but I need you to read in between the lines and assign who wrote which letter.” Y/N said picking up the different notes and holding them to the camera, “I’m going to have JJ scan these and send them to Pen, if she could please do the rest so I can have a detailed explanation of the potential unsub.” They finished explaining. 

“Yeah, I’ll have them finished for you as soon as I can.” Reid said confidently. 

“Thanks Spence.” The team said their goodbyes. 

“Oh you’ve got it bad, Lover Boy.” Penelope said through giggles. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Reid said uncomfortably. 

“That Y/N called you ‘Spence’ and you just about melted.” She teased. 

“That’s not true.” 

“Oh come on! When are you going to just get it over with and ask them out?” Penelope asked in a serious tone. 

“Never, they don’t like me and I probably made them uncomfortable today with something I don’t even remember doing.” He fiddled with his pencil. 

“Have you asked them?” 

“No.”

“Then, you don’t know.” Penelope finished turning back to her computers seeing the files JJ sent, “Come on Boy Genius, your future significant other has work for you.” She said excitedly. 

—————————

“Reid, another family was murdered twenty minutes ago, do you have anything that could lead us?” Hotch stressed. 

“Yes, it seems all these families have in common is their religious beliefs and where they do grocery shopping.” He said going through his own paperwork. 

“Those are two completely different things.” Emily said. 

“No, because all three families come from the same neighborhood, down to the same economic standard. That means they all went to the same place of prayer and they all shop from the same places. It goes down to us having already interviewed the unsub.” Y/N says, paper shuffling is heard by Garcia and Reid as Y/N moves around the room with the rest of the team. 

“They’re right. We concluded that the unsub is a white male in their mid twenties who comes from a household deprived of a mother figure or a divorce household. From the way the murders are being done, it shows they have a previous criminal record with small crimes, maybe petty theft or something big like sexual assault.” Reid goes on. 

“In that case, we have only interviewed twenty people. Garcia, can you narrow down the list?” Hotch asked. 

“You must be new here.” She says with an eye roll. 

“Keep us updated.” Emily smiles. 

“Stay safe.” Reid says, everyone knowing he’s truly directing it to one person, “all of you, stay safe.” He covers up before hanging up. 

Jennifer Jareau’s POV

“Hey, Y/N?” JJ had wanted to speak with Y/N since they got out of the bullpen but for one reason or the other never got the chance. 

“Hey, JJ.” Y/N smiled at the blonde. 

“I know what Spencer did today was out of norm. Are you okay?” She asked. JJ knew neither of the Doctors were big on being touched unless they initiated it. 

“I’m okay.” The young Doctor assured her. 

“Can I ask you something?” JJ started, “I’m probably way out of line and you don’t have to answer but…” She started off testing the water, she kept an eye on Y/N making sure they weren’t uncomfortable at any moment, “do you like Spencer?” JJ finished. 

The words coming out of their mouth wasn’t what gave them away, it was the way their cheeks and neck flared up in red pigmentation as their hands dropped the small cup of coffee they were holding, which had thankfully been empty. 

“What? No, that’s- JJ, I do not like anyone.” Y/N stammered and failed to control their movements. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to have asked you instead of Penelope.” JJ started laughing. 

“I do not like… JJ it is wrong to make assumptions of others. It’s- JJ, no.” Y/N continued. 

“Babe, it’s okay. Everyone and their mom’s can see that you and Spencer have a thing. For being the two smartest people I know… you’re both very daft.” JJ said sweetly. 

“I actually don’t think he likes me, JJ. I noticed that his behavior towards me changed into a more protective one after we finished the case. I think he’s guilty because he was meant to stay with me and we got separated.” Y/N said sadly. 

“You cannot possibly be serious.” JJ questioned. 

“I am.” Y/N retorted. 

“That man is in love with you.” 

“No.” Y/N said as they picked up the empty cup they’d previously dropped. “Anyway, we need to finish this before anyone else dies.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Hotch is waiting.” Y/N left the small room. 

When JJ walked outside, the rest of the team was doing a video call with Garcia and Reid. Y/N was busy looking through a stack of papers while Garcia gave more information about the possible unsub. 

“Hey Y/N?” Spencer spoke up once Garcia finished.

“I’m here.” Y/N left the stack of papers next to them as they paid close attention to Reid. 

Reid cleared his throat twice before he started detailing the information he’d found, “it seems like three people wrote those letters. It wasn’t easy to figure out because the same person switched through hand writings quite easily. So, unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t have seen it.” Reid finished while holding up the letters now filled with side notes. 

“Thanks, Spence.” Y/N smiled at him before picking up the stacks, “that actually narrows down the unsub to four different people.” They picked up a folder one by one and handed it off to others. 

“Garcia, tell us anything on Tony Carter.” Hotch asks. 

While Garcia was telling them all the smallest details she could find to Tony Carter, Spencer and Y/N both went over the notes again. 

“It’s Jared Tall.” They said in unison. 

“Babies, you can’t just bring out the genius in the middle of my genius.” Garcia said annoyed. 

“How do you know?” Hotch asks the both of them. 

“The notes.” Spencer said like it was obvious. 

“It did catch me off guard how this one was written, but it says Jared Tall.” Y/N said like it was no big deal as they pointed at the small details that brought out the name Jared Tall. 

Y/N’s POV

“Hotch, I’m by the south exit. There’s fresh tracks. I think he’s here.” Y/N told their supervisor. 

“Don’t go in without backup. He’s incredibly dangerous and will take out anyone in his place.” Hotch directed. 

“Copy.” Y/N finished replying when they felt a sharp pain come across their temple making them crash against the ground. The cold surrounded them as did darkness. 

Morgan’s POV

“Morgan, I need you to go to the south exit with Y/L/N. They said there’s fresh tracks and that’s dangerous.” Hotch directed. Morgan didn’t answer and just moved to the exit his supervisor had appointed him to. 

“Hotch, Y/L/N isn’t here.” Morgan said through the radio. 

“What?” Hotch asked. Derek didn’t need the radio to hear his directions towards the rest of the team. 

“Their radio is here, Hotch.” Morgan turned around to face him. 

“They couldn’t have gone too far. I gave them directions two minutes ago.” Hotch said while looking around. He turned his radio on and directed everyone to meet at the front of the abandoned cabin. “I need everyone in a group of three. Dogs need to go with you. Y/L/N has intensive knowledge on how to get out of hostage situations but there’s blood on the floor and they may be unconscious now. There’s a likelihood that the unsub took Y/L/N to the same location he has the rest of his victims, if that’s the case he’ll have two children. You need to be extremely careful and vigilant. We have until sundown.” Hotch dismissed everyone Morgan staying behind with him as Hotch called Garcia. 

“Genie in a lap. You have three wishes.” Garcia said in her usual chirpy voice. 

“Is Reid with you?” Hotch asked. 

“No. He went out to get us lunch.” Garcia said as the blood ran cold through her veins, “sir, please don’t tell me that I have to tell Boy Wonder that the person he’s in love with and he doesn’t even realize loves him back, has been kidnapped again.”

“Y/L/N what?” Hotch and Morgan could hear Reid from the other end of the line. 

“He knows.” Garcia whispered on the line. 

“Reid, I’ve got every agent and officer looking for them. They’ll be okay.” Hotch promised. 

“I’ve heard that before.” Reid said darkly. 

“I’ll call with any updates.” Hotch hung up. 

Y/N POV

I’ve got a concussion for sure. Okay, and one broken rib. I can’t open my eyes or move, definitely blindfolded and hands are tied. Probably underground. By the voices near me there’s two children here as well.  

“The fucking FBI. Fuck.” There was pacing around the room. Only one set of feet were moving around. “If you scream, I kill them.” The unsub said. Not knowing what to do, Y/L/N just nodded. “This wouldn’t have happened if that bitch had just ran away with me.” He continues. 

“Who, Jared?” Y/N asked calmly. 

“Patty!” Jared shouted. “She had to stay with her stupid perfect family. What about me?” He kept shouting uncontrollably. 

“This isn’t your fault Jared. She didn’t deserve you.” 

“You’re right. She had to pay.” Jared kept pacing. 

“Jared, I need you to do me a favour.” Y/N approached. “You need to let the children go. They’re innocent in all of this, just as much as you are.” The added in the end. 

“They’re right, Jared. The children are innocent.” Y/N heard Morgan say evenly. “They’re just as innocent as you. They’d never hurt anyone, just like you.” Morgan approached. Y/L/N could now hear him walking near them. Something must have happened in the ten seconds that there was complete silence, because all Y/N heard after that were three gunshots and suddenly they were being untied. “It’s Morgan, you’re okay, Y/N.” Morgan whispers to them. 

“The children.” Y/N whispers. 

“JJ’s got them.” Morgan replies. 

“I’ve got a broken rib.” Y/N tells him. 

“Anything else?” Morgan asks as he lifts them from the entrance. 

“Nothing I can feel as of now.” They reply surely, “Morgan, Reid is-.”

“He knows you were taken. He’s not happy at the moment.” Morgan replies. 

“Where’s Hotch?” 

“We found another child near here and he’s been assisting on that.” 

“This wasn’t his fault. None of us could have known.” They tell Morgan. 

“Tell that to your lover boy. He’s pissed.” Morgan laughs as he sets them on the bed of the ambulance. 

“He’s not my-.” Y/N starts saying before getting interrupted. 

“He’s in love with you. That makes him Lover Boy.”

Morgan teases. 

“I cannot wait for you to no longer be single.” Y/N teases him. 

“Right back at ya, Pretty Face.” Morgan flicks his finger against their chin and walks away; allowing the first responder to assess their wounds. 

Y/N had to get checked at the local hospital, the rib that had fractured was making it painful for them to breathe and couldn’t wait to get checked in Quantico. 

To say the ride back was long and uncomfortable was an understatement. They’d spend two extra days in California and that was two days too long. 

“You get to see your mans today.” Morgan teased. 

“Hotch, Morgan is being annoying.” Y/N said loudly. 

“Did you just tattle on me?” Morgan asked in mocked surprise. 

“And I’ll do it again.” Y/N said confidently. 

“Behave or I’ll ground you both.” JJ said sternly. Once the jet landed, all their teasing suddenly vanished. Garcia and Spencer were waiting for them at the entrance of the BAU floor. No one said anything as they all hugged each other, Y/N keeping their distance from the team as Spencer gave the rest of the team a small half hug trying not to be rude as his family came in contact with his arms. The all unsubtly excused themselves, giving Spencer and Y/N some privacy. 

Something changed inside Spencer when he found out that Y/N had been abducted. Something shifted, it was like he finally understood he could no longer pretend and show a façade every time he was around them. 

Gravity was working differently now, or maybe it was their legs, neither of them were sure which it was. They crossed the small space between them as Y/N crashed against Spencer’s arms; the world just that much lighter now that neither of them were holding anything in. Spencer held them so tightly he was sure he was going to turn them into dust. 

“Wait, your rib-.” Spencer started. 

“Shh.” Y/N pulled away further from him as they grabbed him by his sweater vest and their lips finally met. 

There was cheering in the near distance but they both pretended they didn’t know what was going on behind them. 

Spencer pulled away for a second causing Y/N to give him a slight pout, “go on a date with me?” Spencer finally asked. 

“Only if you go back to kissing me.” Y/N replied, Spencer attaching their lips together before Y/N could even finish the sentence.