#one day i’ll churn some more shit out. one day.

[heymrspatel]

Your art of Ian’s hand in Mickey’s mouth still makes me so crazy! I look at it all the time and it makes my mouth water lololol

wooo anon! i’m glad it’s still having an effect on you 😇 he needed to cooperate 😇 ian helped 😇

also! thank @whatthebodygraspsnot’s genius work, in that glorious chapter 10 of their kinktober series, that inspired that baby! 💙 it destroyed me and i said bet!

[lvnleah]

003. | this isn’t right

word count: 2.2k

find the masterlist here!

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October 15th 2023 | 15 weeks pregnant.

Your eyes fluttered open as Leah’s alarm blared from the bedside table beside you. She lifted her arm from where it was draped over your stomach and reached over for her phone, turning the alarm off.

“Morning love,” she whispered, placing a kiss on your temple once she saw you were awake, “sorry my alarm woke you up.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, your eyes closing shut for a moment again.

As your eyes reopened, nausea hit you once again like it had done every morning for the past fifteen weeks. You tried to swallow the feeling down and let it pass but it didn’t.

You threw the duvet off of your body as quickly as you could before running into the ensuite that you and Leah had. The cool tiles of the bathroom floor met your bare feet as you stumbled in, one hand pressed against your mouth. The nausea intensified, starting to already overwhelm you.

Leah followed closely behind you and you fell in front of the toilet. You leaned over the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach until there was nothing left. Leah held your hair back, her fingers soothing against your scalp as she ran her hand up and down your back.

You thought by now the morning sickness would’ve passed like everyone said it would but it hadn’t. It was controlling your life. Your diet was plain and beige and any time you did eat or drink, you were sick soon after it.

All you felt like you were doing was constantly sleeping and being sick. You’d been to see your doctor multiple times who’d given you different anti-sickness tablets to try but none of them seemed to work.

“You’re so so well, pretty girl,” Leah encouraged you, “Can I get you anything?”

You managed a weak shake of your head, your throat raw from the repeated retching. Leah's unwavering presence was both a comfort and a burden. She needed to get ready for training, but here she was, tending to you. Guilt ate away at you.

“Le, you need to get ready,” you murmured, head resting in your hands as you finally got a break.

Leah shook her head, “No, you and our bubba our more important,” she sternly said, “Jonas knows our situation, he knows you’re struggling, if I’m late then I’ll just explain.”

Twenty minutes later, you were finally able to tear yourself away from the toilet. Leah helped you into the living room, flicking the TV on before draping the blankets over you.

Leah made you some dry toast and water, two of the few things that you could stomach. You sat on the couch together and watched some TV before Leah got ready for training.

“Right pretty girl, I’m off,” Leah smiled as she leaned down to kiss you on the sofa, “Our ultrasounds at four right?” She double-checked.

You nodded, “Yeah it is, I’m hoping I’ll be able to get something better for this morning sickness.”

“We’ll talk to the doctor,” Leah nodded. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching for yours. “Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”

“I promise.” You pressed your lips to hers. “Have a good day, tell Beth I say hi.”

“I love you,” her hand dropped down to your bump as she leaned down to place a kiss on your stomach, “I love you little Gooner, be good for you Mummy.”

You smiled, “I love you too.”

Leah left, and you curled up under the blanket, praying the nausea would pass. But it clung to you like a shadow, refusing to let go. You closed your eyes and soon fell into a deep sleep, catching up on the sleep you’d missed out on last night.

A few hours later, you were woken up by Leah. Her hands ran up and down your legs as you laid on the sofa, your hair in a mess as it laid all over your face.

“Hey,” she whispered, brushing your hair back. “How are you feeling now?”

You sat up, and the room spun. “Better, I think. What time is it?”

Leah’s brow furrowed. “You sure? It’s three o’clock, pretty girl.”

You nodded, but your stomach still churned, “shit, I’ve been asleep all day. I’m so tired, the nausea is still there but I haven’t been sick since you left.”

“That’s good, love,” Leah smiled, sitting down beside you and placing your legs on her thighs, “and don’t feel bad about doing nothing, you’re growing a baby. That ain’t nothing.”

You rubbed the sleep away from your eyes, “I’ve slept the whole day away! The flat is a mess, Le.”

She rubbed your ankles calmly, “Hey, don’t stress, it’s fine. We’ve got an hour until we need to be at the doctors so why don’t you go get yourself ready and I’ll tidy.”

You sat up and nodded your head, “Okay, I love you so much.” Your emotions washed over you quickly and you felt tears building up in your eyes, “What did I do to deserve you?”

Leah laughed, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen, “Don’t cry, pretty girl! You’re doing amazing, I’m proud of you. I know how things are tough right now but I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t make me cry even more!” You warned, pointing your index finger at her. “Stupid fucking hormones!”

You leaned over and pecked Leah’s lips before wandering off into your bedroom and getting yourself ready. As you were doing your makeup, a wave of nausea washed over you.

Dropping everything, you dashed to the bathroom before throwing yourself down beside the toilet. You empty the little contents that your stomach contained, only getting a few minutes of peace before you were dry heaving.

“Woah, pretty girl,” Leah said as she entered the en-suite, she scooped your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, “sick again?”

You nodded and hummed, “I’m so sick of this, Le. I feel like it’s just dragging on now. It’s three thirty, I shouldn’t be sick!”

“I know love,” Leah nodded, “I think we should talk to the doctor about it and see what she says. I don’t want you to worry but there’s this thing, hyperemesis gravidarum, where your morning sickness lasts for longer than the usual pregnancy does. You’ve got all the symptoms, maybe we should mention it to the doctor?”

You groaned, sinking back against the cool bathroom tiles. “Hyper-what?” you mumbled, trying to focus through the haze of nausea.

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” Leah repeated gently, keeping her voice steady. “It’s a severe form of morning sickness. I read about it last night.”

You closed your eyes, feeling tears prick at the corners. “But what if it’s something else? What if there’s something wrong with the baby?”

Leah’s hand rubbed up and down your back comfortingly. “I’m sure everything’s okay, but we need to talk to the doctor. It might mean we need to get you on some different medication or maybe even some IV fluids.”

You took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the rising panic. “I just want to feel normal again.”

Leah kissed the top of your head, her voice soothing. “We’ll get through this, I promise. One step at a time.”

You nodded, feeling the overwhelming discomfort. “Okay. I think I’m okay to get ready now.”

Leah helped you up slowly, and you leaned on her. After managing to get dressed and gather your things, you and Leah headed out to the doctor's appointment. The drive was filled with a mix of anxious silence and supportive hand squeezes from Leah as the radio played quietly in the background.

“Lovely parking, Leah.” Leah complemented herself as she reversed perfectly, “Well done.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “you did not just compliment yourself.”

“Hell yeah, I did!” Leah smiled before getting out of the car and admiring her parking, “Look at how perfect that was!”

You got out and joined her, “Amazing babe, well done. Maybe take a photo to remember it!”

“Don’t take the mick out of me!” Leah gasped as you wandered off into the doctors.

You walked into the doctor’s office, Leah’s hand securely around yours. The familiar antiseptic smell mixed with the soft murmur of conversations from the waiting room made you feel a little uneasy.

After a short wait, a nurse called your name, and you and Leah followed her into an examination room. Dr. Thompson, your doctor, entered soon after, her kind eyes scanning the room.

“So, how are we feeling today?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

You exchanged a glance with Leah before answering. “Not great. The nausea and vomiting have been really bad, worse than the usual morning sickness. Leah read about something called hyperemesis gravidarum.”

Dr. Thompson nodded, taking a seat and opening her notebook. “I’m glad you brought that up. Hyperemesis gravidarum can be quite challenging. We’ll discuss your symptoms and see what we can do to help.”

You described the relentless nausea, the constant trips to the bathroom, and the struggle to keep anything down. Dr. Thompson listened intently, making notes.

“Based on what you’ve told me, it does sound like you might be experiencing hyperemesis gravidarum,” she said thoughtfully. “We’ll need to run some tests to be sure, but in the meantime, I can prescribe some antiemetics and we might consider IV fluids to keep you hydrated.”

Leah’s grip on your hand tightened. “Will the baby be okay?”

Dr. Thompson smiled reassuringly. “With the right management, both you and the baby will be fine. It’s about finding what works best for you to manage the symptoms.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Thank you. Are there any foods I can avoid or that will help?”

Dr. Thompson nodded. “There are some dietary adjustments you can try. Eating small, frequent meals can help, and bland foods like crackers, plain rice, and toast are often easier to tolerate. Ginger tea or ginger chews might also ease the nausea. Avoid greasy, spicy, or acidic foods as they can make the symptoms worse.”

Leah gave you a supportive smile. “We’re already stocked up on all the bland foods.”

You chuckled, appreciating her attempt to lighten the mood. “Guess I’m going to follow your plain and beige diet!”

Dr. Thompson handed you a pamphlet. “This has more tips on managing hyperemesis. Don’t hesitate to call if your symptoms get worse or if you have trouble keeping fluids down. Are you ready to see your baby?”

You and Leah both nodded before you laid back on the examination table. You hadn’t seen your baby since your first ultrasound so you were both intrigued as to what they’d look like at 15 weeks.

Dr. Thompson dimmed the lights in the room and wheeled over the ultrasound machine. She applied a cool gel to your abdomen and began moving the transducer gently over your belly. The monitor flickered to life, revealing grainy shadows and then, suddenly, a clearer image emerged.

"There's your little one," Dr. Thompson said warmly, pointing to the screen. "And there's the heartbeat." She zoomed in, showing you the tiny flutter of movement that indicated a strong heartbeat.

Leah gasped softly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Oh wow," she whispered. "Look at them."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a surge of emotion as you watched your baby wiggle and squirm on the screen. Their little arms and legs were just beginning to form, and it was a miraculous sight.

"They look healthy," Dr. Thompson commented, tracing a measurement on the screen. "And it seems like they're quite active already, you should start to feel some movements in the next few weeks.”

You smiled at Leah, “When can we find out the gender?” Leah asked.

“I can tell now but I’m not a hundred percent sure so it may be incorrect,” Dr. Thompson said, “I’d say around twenty weeks I’ll be able to correctly tell.”

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded, “They’ve grown so much.”

You left the clinic, clutching the ultrasound image of your baby. Leah couldn’t tear her eyes away from it once again and as soon as you were home, it was hung up on your fridge with your other ultrasound picture.

“I’m so tired,” you yawned as Leah laid down on the couch, pulling you down to lay on top of her, “I feel like I could sleep for years!”

Leah laughed as you rested your head on her chest, her hand absentmindedly falling to your small bump, “Why don’t you take a nap, pretty girl. It’s been a rough day for you.”

You nodded before leaning up and kissing Leah’s jawline. Your eyelids grew heavy and Leah draped a blanket over both of you. You felt Leah’s warmth beside you, her heartbeat like a lullaby for you. As Leah gently stroked your hair, her touch soothing and comforting, you nestled closer to her.

"I love you," you whispered softly, your words barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Leah pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too, pretty girl."

With her arms wrapped protectively around you, You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fall asleep. The steady rise and fall of Leah's chest beneath you, the comforting touch of her hand on your belly where your baby nestled, lulled you into a deep, restful slumber.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 5

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 5: Strobe Lights and a Strong Drink

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Oof, what do you guys think? Thanks for reading and all the support guys!

Word Count: 6k+

Shit.

She kissed you.

She didn’t know why she kissed you.

Her fingers trembled even when you were gone minutes later. She brought the shaky fingers up to touch her burning lips, ignoring her sisters’ amused yet quizzical stares.

This whole week with you at her parents house has been nothing short of blissful. It was almost like domestic how you two acted around her family. Unspoken touches and longing stares.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

All she knows is when she turned to wish you luck, her stomach churned at how delicately you were looking at her.

But before Jenna can think on it some more, her sisters are pulling her away to find a good spot for your performance; Mia, asking passersby which stage people had flocked to.

You didn’t tell her who you were performing with so they didn’t know where to go. Jenna had forgotten to ask.

“Do you know what time she’s going on stage?” Aliyah asks, holding the actress's hand firmly.

“No…” Jenna replied.

“Okay, do you at least know which stage?” Mia asked.

“No.”

“Do you guys ever talk or do you just share silent looks all day?” Mia sighs, fishing for her phone.

Jenna blushes. “I’ll text Link and ask.”

—

She’s buzzing with excitement but she’s impatient. It’s been two hours since you left her.

Jenna keeps sending texts asking when you are coming out to perform but of course, all you do is tease.

You: Stop being impatient, you’ll see soon ;)

Jenna isn’t sure if her suspicions are true but people around her are talking about a surprise guest for Metro Boomin’s set but she doesn’t remember having heard if you had worked with the producer before.

This could be the song you were working tirelessly over this last week.

“Do you think it’s Y/N?” Aliyah asks, peeking her head past the others in the crowd.

They can practically feel the excitement as the music pumps loudly through the gigantic stage.

“I’m not sure.” Jenna shouts, “This is a good set though!”

“Yeah!” Her sister agreed, pulling her to dance. 

The cheers get louder when the song finishes, setting up to transition to the next one; the crowd is amped with anticipation. 

“Everyone, give it up for The Weeknd!”

The crowd explodes as he comes out in an all-white jumpsuit and blacked-out sunglasses.

“Give it up  for Metro Boomin, Coachella!” He praises as he comes out; talking to the crowd as they cheer audibly.

Jenna feels disappointed that it wasn’t you but is still excited when she sees the familiar face. Her sister Mia is practically jumping in her spot, he's one of her favourite artists.

“Jen, come on!” Mia laughs, tugging her closer to the stage, smiling largely.

She fights the urge to pull out her phone and text you again.

10 minutes go by of The Weeknd performing and Jenna’s enjoying herself; forgetting about you for a moment as she dances with her sisters; taking pictures and videos; allowing the music to consume her.

The Weeknd performs well and the crowd is evidently loving him.

Eventually, the music quiets down and the singer starts speaking.

“Can we play some new shit for a second, Coachella?” The crowd screams, excited to be the first to hear a new song. “Alright… then make some noise for Y/N motherfucking L/N.”

A synthesized deep reverberating beat drops and strobe lights flash blindingly in Jenna's eyes making her squint as you ascend through a cloud of thick fog from backstage.

Her jaw drops.

When Jenna gets clear sight of you, she knew you were a sight to behold. "Wow..."

The outfit you are wearing hung off your figure so well and so tight that Jenna wouldn’t be surprised if she was drooling. The heeled boots paired with it give you height accentuating the rest of your clothes well. You changed your hair and makeup and suddenly she understands why everyone she has spoken to has been enamoured by you.

“Woah…” Aliyah trails off, in awe and then turns to her sister with an amused smirk watching her sister's comically enormous round eyes as she continued to stare at you.

You looked like a superstar on that stage.

At first, she thought Link called you that as a joke but as she watched you walk to centre stage, she understood why.

You start singing and Jenna thinks she can pass away now. She can barely hear you as the crowd starts freaking out when seeing you. A sea of phones are immediately pulled out to capture the rare moment of you on stage. Jenna feels like the ground is shaking as the crowd gets ridiculously noisier the longer you sang the unfamiliar words along with the melody.

The beat drops again and Jenna watches as you bounce around on stage with the largest smile plastered on your face as you expertly performed with the other singer.

That's when Jenna felt it.

She knew it then.

Fuck.

She’s so screwed.

—

“Thank you so much for having me Coachella! It's been such a blast!” The crowd screamed thunderously prompting you to painfully clutch your in-ears when you hear just how deafening the audience was now that the backing track wasn't playing.

“Oh shit,” You wince.

You feel loved as you look at the vast and far ocean of blinding lights. This feeling never gets old. It’s been a while since you’ve been on stage; taking a step back to focus on film. When your good friend asked you to do a surprise performance, there was no way you were going to say no.

“You killed it!” Abel laughs in your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks!” You say bashfully, leaning into the embrace.

“Everyone, give it up for the King of Coachella and Metro Boomin!” You praise, pulling away to yell into the mic, smiling wide and large. 

For a hopeful moment, you scan the crowd, trying to find Jenna knowing she’s watching you somewhere.

Somehow, you spot her past the masses immediately. 

Like a moth to a flame, you find her through the faceless crowd. Jenna had her hands cupped around her mouth as she cheered for you, trying to peek her head above the others.  She drops her hands, landing back on the balls of her feet when you make eye contact and just smiled at you proudly.

As if time stops; you and her just stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

Longer than usual.

Longer than necessary for this PR relationship.

You have no doubts that videos of you and Jenna’s stare-off will be trending by tonight when you see people swinging their arms to pan between you and the other actress when they see your line of sight.

Briefly, you hear mutterings of people in the front row saying Jenna’s name and pointing; getting louder.

You blink, realizing where you were and wave goodbye one last time, steadily springing off stage — itching to get all the eyes off of you.

“That was great Y/N!” Link smiles, hugging you immediately. “Did you hear how loud the crowd was? Holy shit!”

“Thanks, Link… and yeah that was crazy.” You laughed appreciatively, the high of performing and having tens of thousands of eyes on you was starting its comedown. “Come on, I’m dying to get these boots off… no matter how pretty they are.”

“Don’t let your stylist hear that. She was excited about the boots — talked my ear off for 10 minutes.” He rolled his eyes, leading you to a tent backstage.

You follow him, ducking and nodding your head in appreciation as people cheer and compliment your performance.

“Yeah, she does that.” You chuckle.

“So what was that?” He asks lowly.

“What?”

“That kiss.” He looks at you sternly.

“Oh. I’m not sure. She just pulled me in.” You answer honestly, not really having the words to describe it yet.

You’ve been pulled left and right as you got ready for the performance.

“Can you sound anymore like a guy? Give me details how was it?” He leans in.

“I—I don’t know.”

“What do you mean I don’t know. She kissed you! That has to mean something! Maybe you two can finally say goodbye to all that weird silent pining you guys have going on.” He wrinkled his nose in memory of how often he caught the two of you staring into each other’s eyes or swinging hands as you walked in tandem.

The two of you are the very definition of oblivious.

“It’s not pining.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

You sigh, “I don’t really know what it means, Link. It’s just a kiss, it might not mean anything to her..”

“To her?” He takes special note.

You roll your eyes, swinging open the flap of the tent. “Yes for her.”

“What did it mean for you, then?” He turns his back to face the wall as you rapidly change.

“Why do you care so much? When was the last time you were on a date?” You huff; tugging the leather boots off your feet. “Did you try that dating app I told you about? I promise it won’t be like last time.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He growled deeply.

You’re no longer allowed to set him up on dates after that experience.

Huffing, you give in, “I’m not really sure what it meant to me, yet. It all happened so fast but… I don’t think I hated it.”

“Mhm.” You were like a toddler learning to walk. He had to slowly coax you as you learn to do things; like talk about your feelings. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Do? Nothing, why would I do something?”

“God, you’re dense.”

“Dude!” You throw your hands up.

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, you should do something! Did you not see the way she was looking at you?” He asks confused. 

How did you not see how you two looked at each other?

“I–I, maybe. But I don’t wanna read into it.” You admit. 

“That look from her seemed like it meant something, I don’t know.”

“What? No way.” You wave off, despite your heart darting wildly in your chest at his words.

You don't want to get your hopes up.

“Dude, I’m this close to knocking you out. I don’t care who you are.” You hear his loud puff echo in the room. “Why is the thought of being with Jenna so bad to you? You guys are practically acting like you’re together – you’ve been sharing a bed with the girl when there’s a whole mansion here in the Valley for you. You even started doing chores around her parent’s house Y/N... In all my years of knowing you, you have never even turned on the dishwasher at home. Be honest with yourself for once, really.”

“How do you know about the chores?” You peek your head out the divider, sending him a confused look.

“Jenna… who else. We talk, you know.” He says, back still facing you.

“What do you guys talk about?” 

“None of your concern.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing out long and tired.

“We’re both so busy all the time, there’s no way it’ll work. Do you remember the last person I tried to date? I don’t want that with Jenna. ” Link shudders; he‘s had his fair share of close calls with filing a restraining order… given your history of flings and relationships.

“They’re all either psycho or it just ends up crashing in flames. I don’t want to have to show up at an award show and awkwardly smile at Jenna, pretending like I don’t know her. Or have a song or movie made about me.. again. I knew this PR stunt was bad news.” You shove your head in the t-shirt, feeling much more comfortable in the soft, loose fabric.

“Okay, you don't mean that. Don’t you think you’re –I don’t know–overthinking this a little? Also, I don’t see Jenna as the songwriting type. Maybe an essay about you?”

“Are you done?” You scoffed at the timing of his joke, stepping out from the wall divider. “Also, I think what I said was very reasonable.”

“I’m just saying, maybe she’s different.”

“I doubt it.” Much like your lyrics; you were just as much a pessimist.

But you know you’re lying — you felt instantly just how different she is from anyone you’ve ever met before.

You just didn’t know it could develop into… this.

Even through thousands of people, you managed to find her from that stage. 

Jenna has an omnipotent pull on you that was getting harder to evade.

Something tells you the harder you try to yank away, the tighter the leash will start to feel.

You hated feeling suffocated.

“Y/N.” He says disapprovingly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know, maybe I do.” You try to appear indifferent; looking away from your best friend to find the matching sweater to your pants.

“Hey. I’m serious. Don’t shut yourself out from the potential of something good just because you’re a little scared.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Link.” You grow annoyed.

When were you going to get some time for yourself? Without someone questioning you or bombarding you?

"Really? Cause it sounds to me like you're a little scared. I mean, think about it. How different would it be if you two actually dated? Everyone already thinks you're together and you've already been travelling apart for work. Not to mention... you two already act like a couple. It's crazy that you don't see it."

"What?" You look at him bewildered. "No, we don't. It's all for the cameras."

"Dude, it's me. Who are you trying to bullshit? Even Enrique won't stop talking about you two. And you know that guy’s around Jenna all the time.”

You scoff, "That—that doesn't mean anything."

"Please, " He holds a hand up, "I can't handle this today, I'm clocking out. Jenna can deal with you now." Then turns and walks out of the tent.

You huff, not wanting to think about his words.

You could play the fool and say that you have no idea what he's talking about. But you see the longing glances from the other actress.

You pretended not to notice her stares when you were around her family this past week. When her dad was complaining about his car not starting so you offered to look at it for him; a chance for you to get to know her dad a little more (if people asked you, his constant silence still kinda scared you). Or when you were the only one who could get her niece to calm down after fussing that one afternoon. Or when you played basketball with her brother Markus – trying desperately not to trash-talk and cuss out the young, competitive teen.

You get the point, she was always watching and you’re not dumb. You definitely see it; the little hairs on the back of your neck always stand when she’s near. Like your own version of Spidey-senses but with… Jenna. But that doesn't mean anything? 

The two of you are at her parent’s house – she’s bound to be around.

Maybe she was drunk? You did order some cocktails throughout the night and she’d begged you for a couple of sips — even offering to hold it for you when you saw some friendly faces amidst the crowd. You may have indulged her. Hey, she's drank before, you know she can handle her alcohol.

Yeah, that has to be it right? Just the high of the crowd and the buzz of a strong drink.

You certainly felt like you needed one if you had to face Jenna soon.

Walking over to the bottle of tequila gifted to you by the producer’s team, you pop the top off and grab a shot glass. You pour yourself a generous shot and immediately down it, wincing at the burn it leaves in your throat.

You pour another one and another one before you feel like you've had enough — you're taking too long in here.

"Hey, there you are!" Jenna's voice exclaimed behind you after the sound of a tarp being pulled open.

You turn, surprised, still holding the shot glass and bottle of Don Julio 1942.

She perks a brow up, amused. "Celebrating alone?"

"We live alone—"

"We die alone. Orson Welles. Somebody to Love." She cuts in.

"Snob." You laugh then turned and grabbed another glass. "Want one? I won't tell."

"Yes." Jenna grinned and walked closer. "Why does no one ever talk about the second part of that quote?"

"There's a second part?" You wrinkled your nose in confusion.

"Yeah, only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." Jenna quotes, grabbing the shot you held out for her.

"Oh... that's sweet I guess." You place the bottle down, turning to her; ignoring the added meaning behind her words.

"Yeah, it's one of my favourite quotes." Jenna clinks glasses with you.

"Salud." You raise the glass, tap the table and then take the shot heartily.

"You're a dork." Jenna coughs out, wincing at the burn.

"It's customary, darling." You reply teasingly, pulling out a posh English accent.

Jenna laughs a little too hard at your joke, crinkling her nose. "Is that the Little Women accent?"

You blink, taken aback. "You've seen my movie?"

Jenna reddens. "Yeah..." coughing, "like five times. It got you an Oscar nomination."

"That's cute." You grin, heart practically leaping out of your chest.

"I thought I was supposed to find you?" You remembered.

“You were taking too long… and there’s a steady crowd waiting to congratulate you outside but... I wanted to be the first one.” She looks down, kicking the carpet with her booted toe. 

You grinned, “You liked it?”

She glanced up, laughing, “Liked it? You were amazing! The crowd was so loud, I definitely lost some of my hearing… I think my Mia and Aliyah might even want you as a sister instead.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Thank you, Jenna… but nah, I think the one they got is pretty cool too. They’re lucky to have you.”

She smiles up at you. And like earlier, you find yourself getting lost in her soft, kind eyes. You two have come a long way since that first meeting…

A part of you thinks, how it feels nice to have someone waiting for you backstage after a performance. Someone that doesn't work for you.

"Hey, so um— are we gonna talk about it?" You gain the courage to ask. Usually, you'd beat around the bush, hating confrontation. You're probably the first person to take a hike at the sign of an inconvenience. But this is Jenna.

Your Jenna.

She had kissed you.

Somethings you can brush off and forget, but not this. You find yourself not wanting to do so, so easily either. Something tells you that it's a memory that'll stick with you for a while, if not forever.

You could probably get Alzheimer's and you still won't forget you and Jenna under the strobe lights and rip-roaring crowd.

A tiny part of you held onto the hope that she’d say she meant it but you would never say that out loud.

"Yeah, I guess we should. Um— did you hate it?" She bit her lip in question.

"Did you?" You cowardly cop-out.

She rolls her eyes, smiling a bit but taking the bait and stepping closer to you. "Not really no..."

"Me too." You blurted and Jenna looks pleased.

"Good." Stepping closer. "Do you think, we can, I don’t know maybe do it again?" She whispers, looking up at you.

"Maybe..." You breathe out; arms stiff by your sides as she leans into your personal space.

"Maybe?" She cocks a coy brow, smirking. "You gonna make me work for it?"

She runs her fingers up your hands to your arm to your shoulder before resting them on your neck. A trail of goosebumps litters your skin.

You bit your lip, not missing how her eyes followed your movements. "I—uh,"

"What? Did I finally make you speechless?" She scrapes her nails against the back of your neck as her other hand rested on your stomach anchoring herself. "If I knew all it had to take was kissing you to shut you up I would've done it a long ti—"

You cut her gloating off, pushing your lips firmly to hers; tightly gripping her sheer button-down shirt. You pray a thousand blessings come to whoever bought this shirt for her because the way her skin burned through the fabric had you clutching her tighter than ever.

She groans against the sudden pressure but melts against you; pulling you down by the hand on your neck; kissing you back. Jenna tilts her head to the side, allowing you to slip your tongue past her lips and into her mouth.

When you traced your hand down her back relishing the way she shuddered under the touch — you made sure to stop and toy with the hook of her bra, just teasing before shamelessly moving your hand on her waist; lower than what should be considered modest for a second kiss.

But you don't care because Jenna is in your arms, kissing you back with the same intensity and for the first time, you feel all the tension between you and her fizzle away.

Like two teenagers who finally managed to find some time alone —she's slotting her leg in between yours making you flinch back.

"Mhmm. Jen not here." You mumble against her lips.

"Sorry, sorry. I got carried away." She blinks, unwrapping herself from you.

You laugh, tugging her closer. "I didn't say move."

Jenna gulps at your tone, feeling flushed. "Okay..."

"We should definitely talk about this though, right?" You sighed, leaning your head on top of hers. Jenna leans into your chest.

"Yeah probably. But this is nice too." She wraps her arms around your waist. She decides she likes the way the curves of your waist made a perfect mould for her arms to rest on.

She looks up, chin on your chest to link eyes. "Maybe it can wait until we're home? My sisters are still waiting outside..."

You look down at her, gently smiling. "Yeah, at home."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Okay." She pulls herself away; linking hands to tug you outside.

But she stops walking just before she can open the flap, promptly spinning on her toes and pulling you down to kiss you again. You only hear her satisfied sighs fanning against your skin.

Then she's pulling away too fast for your liking. "Now we can go."

You can't help but grin ear to ear at that.

—

“The Weeknd, really? I guessed him.” She grumbles from beside you as you two walk back to her sisters.

"I told you, he's a friend. We’re working on some of the soundtrack for his new HBO show." You chuckle, swinging your arm over her shoulder to link hands and tugging her close; wanting to feel closer to the young actress.

"The Idol?" She perks up, having heard about the show.

"Mhmm. Just the music." You hum and Jenna wants to laugh at how nonchalant you sound. How did you have time to do music, act and play your part in this PR relationship? "I composed the arrangement of the song."

"What? That's so cool, I actually want to get into composing." She mentions excitedly.

"You're gonna have to come by the studio sometime then, maybe I can show you a couple of things." You grin, eyes tinged with interest.

"Maybe... but don't change the subject, I guessed The Weeknd." She squeezes your hand, mulling over the idea.

"What do you want? A reward?" You chuckle.

"Yes." She mutters.

"Okay. What would you like? I have a lot to offer?" You say teasingly as you approach her sisters.

But Jenna doesn’t say anything, just takes her free hand and wraps it around your neck to pull you down; connecting your lips in another sensible kiss. You couldn’t fight the sigh that leaves your nose when you feel her tilt her head to the side; deepening the kiss.

Multiple bright flashes breaks your moment.

"Mia! Aliyah!" Jenna glares as they keep smiling.

"What?" Mia asks pretending to sound confused, "Oh shit, these are kinda cute, Jenna you might want this."

Jenna grumbles under her breath, embarrassed and tugged you along to stand a fair distance away from her sisters and closer to the stage.

"Send me those!" You manage to yell before she pulls you out of earshot.

"You two are a match made in heaven." She stands in front of you, leaning against your chest with your arms wrapped around her waist— like before you were pulled away from her to perform.

"Is that jealousy I hear, Ortega? I already told you, there's only one that I care enough to impress. You place your head over her shoulder tugging her close.

Not even the humid desert heat can keep you from wanting to feel closer to the other actress. Jenna seems to be just as comfortable as you so you don't pull away.

"Mhmm. Just checking." She traces a finger over the arm steadily wrapped around her midsection; sending shivers down your spine.

—

“A wedding dress?” You perk up, scanning yourself in the mirror. The Prada x Thom Browne custom gown made just for you made you feel like a Disney princess; hints of gothic design and golden tassels hung haphazardly on the train of dress as it’s still in its work-in-progress stage.

“Mhmm.” Your stylist mumbles, watching the fabric flow down your figure. “With its own flair, this is just the base of the dress. We’ll be adding more details to match the theme.”

“It’s stunning but why this?” You ask, twirling on the podium making the seamstress and tailor scowl beside you.

“To match Jenna, darling, what else for?” She says like you’re stupid — which in hindsight, you might be. But hey, it’s been a long week.

"What is she wearing?" You couldn't help but ask.

She snorts an obnoxious laugh, "Nice try sweetie. You'll see what she wears on the day. Thom would also kill me.”

"I thought you worked for me." You grumbled.

“Not for the Met — I don’t. I’ve seen that tiny girl’s wrath. I’ll deal with you over her.”

After Coachella weekend, there was no 'going home' and 'talking about it' with Jenna because you were already being pulled by Link in the other direction by the end of the night. Telling you about how you need to drive back to L.A. to pack for New York, once again.

Sometimes you felt like you were living most of your life on planes.

This meant you had to leave Jenna (and your dog with her) behind in California as you prepare for the annual fashion gala — where this year, you were tasked with the honour of co-hosting among a panel of other stars and Anna Wintour.

Jenna made sure to send you daily updates on their daily walks. You might have saved a couple of those photos… but as of the last few days, you hadn’t heard from the other actress.

"Now go, Link wants you back in your hotel room to go over your duties for the Met." She holds your hand as you step off the podium. The rest of your fashion team scattered off to their own respective corners; taking notes.

"Thank you, darling. It's always a pleasure to work with you." You say appreciatively.

"The pleasure is all mine." She kisses both of your cheeks before ushering you to a room to change.

—

“Hey, you gotta see this.” Link says as soon as you walk into your hotel suite.

“What is it now?” You ask, sliding in to see what he was looking at.

‘Y/N caught with cocaine? Rumours of a possible arrest. Will this be the end of this young star’s career?’

“How did they find out about the coke?” You grabbed the phone out of his hands, re-reading the article for a possible source.

“Not sure. But Liv has her suspicions. She said she’s looking into it and not to worry. Lawyers are saying they don’t have basis to charge you. Some people don’t believe it but you know, people love to stir shit up.” He watches your creased forward. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it? They’re drug allegations, lawyers are involved. Jake said that part wouldn’t get out to the press because they weren’t mine. He promised.” You give the phone back to him and start pacing the room.

“Hey, hey. Jake and Liv are handling it and Sarah is already in talks of tracking down whoever the possible source is.”

“Sarah… Sarah’s involved.” You mutter.

“Yeah? This kinda affects Jenna too.” He shrugs.

“Fuck. Fuck Jenna knows…” Your eyes widen in realization. Is this why she hasn’t reached out?

The two of you haven’t had time to talk these last few days. She’s been busy with her family and her Dior event while you’ve been on the East Coast prepping for the MET.

Does she know?

“I’m not sure. But if Sarah is involved. Good chances are… Jenna’s heard about it ‘cause she’s been warned.”

“Fuck.” You groan into your hands.

“Does Jenna not know?” Link asks confused.

“I don’t know what she knows, to be honest. I think she might have heard about the coke in the beginning but Jake and Liv made sure to keep that part under wraps. Only my drunken disorderly got out to the press. I–I’m not sure if Jenna ever knew it was true…”

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s Jenna. I’m sure she’ll understand once you two get a chance to talk.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk about that night, Jake. Especially not with her. It’s not exactly my best moment…”

“Well… I feel like she’s gonna have questions, regardless.” He walks off to the kitchen.

You head to your room to nap away the bad news you just got.

Met Gala duties can wait.

—

“You'll look great beside Jenna."

“Where is she, Enrique?” You tugged on the base of the dress.

“In her room.” He plainly answers, brushing down any wrinkles.

“Can I see her? I need to talk to her.”

His eyes flicker up to you, stopping his fretting. You don’t miss the slight judgment in his eyes. “No can do. She’s still getting ready.”

“I thought we were walking the carpet together?"

“You are. But you’ll see her when she’s done getting ready.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” You couldn’t help but ask, making your makeup artist stop for a moment.

He flicks a brow up, “It’s not my place to be mad at you. You should talk to Jenna.”

“What does that mean?” You furrow your brows.

“Like I said, just talk to her. She’ll be ready in a bit. Meet us on her floor.” Then he walks off

You sighed.

“You’re good to go, hun.” Your glam team confirms.

Eventually, your team trickles out one by one leaving you with a moment to yourself. Closing your eyes, you lean back against your chair and let out a heavy sigh.

You really wanted to talk to Jenna before tonight’s gala.

The news of your ‘possible arrest’ and ‘charges’ is abuzz all over the internet and social media.

It seems like whoever leaked that you were caught with coke made you public enemy number one on certain news outlets, once again.

But people on the internet have differing opinions. Some make fun of the situation, some defend you, and some are outright bashing you.

You’ve deactivated various social media’s, only keeping your Instagram to check on Jenna and her family’s posts from Coachella weekend, but your comments are limited.

The slew of hate you've been hit with from randoms is overwhelming despite you not caring about their thoughts on your life and the way you chose to live it.

There's only so much you can take when the first thing you read when you open social media is your name.

But, you’ve been so swamped with rehearsals and duties as a host that you couldn’t even greet the other actress when she landed. By the time you made it back to your hotel room in the dead of night, you didn’t feel you should disturb Jenna’s much-needed rest — knowing she’s a bit of an insomniac.

“Hey, I just got the okay. We’re good to go. We can meet Jenna.” Link pops his head through the door breaking you out of your thoughts.

You open your eyes, and sighed, taking your time to get up making Link raise his brow. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He reassures you once you stepped out of the door, holding the lavish train of your dress behind you.

“Yeah…” You mutter distantly, bunching your dress up with one hand to walk to the elevator.

When you make it to Jenna’s floor your hands begin to perspire. Enrique’s words from earlier ringing loudly in your ears, he definitely made it sound like Jenna was mad at you.

She was right, you do jump to conclusions.

You force yourself to take a calm, deep breath as you wait for her door to open; nervously tapping your high-heeled foot on the carpet.

When the door creaks open, your eyes are snapping to it immediately.

“Wow…” You do a double-take, with a wide-eyed goggle — taking a step back to admire her custom tuxedo dress.

“Thanks…” She tucks a hair behind her ear, glancing down shyly.

“Jenna… I mean it, you look— wow. I mean—“ You stutter embarrassingly. 

In all your ears as a performer, you have never been so tongue-tied. What is this girl doing to you?

Even Enrique couldn’t help but laugh behind her, easing the tension as Jenna just flicks an amused brow at you, despite her reddening cheeks.

Clearing your throat, attempting to hide your unabashed staring, “Sorry, I just mean— you look beautiful.”

“Thank you… so do you.” She muttered gingerly.

“You like it? It’s a little on the nose.” It was your turn to blush as you glanced between your outfit and hers — a bride and groom. You try not to put too much meaning on the implication.

“It was my idea, actually.” She admitted.

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” She steps out, walking ahead of you. “It’ll be great for the press.”

That word was starting to grind your gears whenever it left her mouth.

You frowned as she walked further away.

"Can we talk? I need to tell you something." You slide in next to her.

Damn her and those heels.

"Not now, Y/N," Jenna whispers coldly, sparing you a warning look.

"It's important Jenn—"

"Y/N. I'm serious. Don't make things worse." She says with certainty that made you slightly afraid but knowing when to keep your mouth shut has never been your strong suit.

"You know... about the article." You trail off, unsure how you feel.

"Of course. I know, Y/N. God." She rolls her eyes and walks into the elevator.

You keep your head down and shove yourself into the opposite corner of the metal box; not wanting to be close to the other actress as you attempt to cool down.

She really believed a gossip article?

When the door opens, you couldn’t help but slide in beside her. “And you really believe it? Over me?”

She sighed, pulling you aside to a secluded corner and let both of your teams walk ahead; ignoring their prying eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe Y/N.”

You scoff, brows furrowing, “Me… believe me, Jenna.”

“How?” She says bluntly and you feel your heart drop at her tone and how sure she sounded about her accusations. 

You know you’re the farthest from a saint. Did what you do warrant this reaction from her? 

Maybe. 

But you felt like you should still be able to explain your side.

She takes your stunned silence as a prompt to keep talking.

“This is what you do. You run away from things until it catches up to you. We’ve spent the last few months by each other sides and you never brought up the—“She takes a deep breath, glancing around wearily, “Coke… so you tell me Y/N, what should I believe? ‘Cause it feels like you haven’t been upfront with me.”

“Upfront with you–” You laugh resentfully.

“Guys, we gotta go!” Link yells before you can give in to your rising anger.

I guess you know where you stand with her. 

“We—We’ll talk about it later,” Jenna sighs, hanging her head low as if she were tired.

Deep breath...

“Don’t bother. Point made."

“What was that?” Link asks, holding his elbow out for you to take as you walked away from the other actress.

“My answer.” You mumbled, bitterly.

Maybe she is just like the rest of them.

–

not even sorry about it…

(fun fact: my @ is a play-off of House of Balloons by The Weeknd)🫢

-

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-

[shitouttabuck]

this could be the year for the real thing

buck/eddie | 1.7k | 7x06 coda(ish)

Eddie can count on one hand the number of times he’s been this horrifically hungover. His pre-teenage-pregnancy body bounced back blessedly quickly from tailgate parties and keg stands and beer pong tournaments, but after that? His cousins threw his bachelor party before he married Shannon, which involved a lot of mixed liquor, and then there were a couple miserable nights out after she left him, and now, last night, him and Buck the sole bachelor party members standing after Chim didn’t show up.

This is his worst hangover, because at least all the other times he wasn’t seized with worry about one of his closest friends and regret that he and Buck hadn’t noticed the empty hotel bed the night before. The nausea from hell doesn’t help, either.

Chim’s safe now, under the careful monitor of Cedars hospital staff and Maddie no more than three feet away from him at all times. The relief is a palpable thing, and Buck offering him a steaming paper cup of green tea soothes the churning in his gut a little bit, too.

He takes a sip and sighs gratefully, slumping against Buck in the hospital waiting room chairs when he takes the seat beside Eddie.

“Still queasy?” Buck asks, voice a rumble.

“Mm,” Eddie says, “back-to-back shots of tequila and sambuca are not it.”

Buck shudders beside him. “Don’t,” he begs, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “I’m still very much in range of hurling.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Eddie’d only managed half a banana when he went home to shower and change, but he knows Buck’s been with Maddie most of the day, and when it comes to taking care of other people, he sometimes forgets about himself.

“Had a granola bar,” Buck says, eyes still closed. “Can’t—don’t wanna think about food yet.”

His stomach chooses then to grumble audibly, with traitorously comedic timing, and Eddie snorts. Buck opens one eye to grin at him.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says, patting his belly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She doesn’t, huh? Then I guess she’s not interested in stopping by the juice bar on Sunset on the way home? Some sweet, sweet smoothies, all that fresh fruit and hydration, don’t even have to chew…”

Buck’s stomach rumbles interestedly and they both laugh.

“That sounds—so good, actually,” Buck admits. “We can pick up the peanut butter one for Chris, he’s always hankering—”

He breaks off as Hen appears at the end of the hallway, looking around and hurrying over as soon as she spots them. Eddie doesn’t think anything’s wrong—she’s beaming—but he and Buck sit up quickly in their seats anyway.

“Ugh,” Buck says, and Eddie’s dizziness at the sudden movement wholeheartedly agrees.

“We’re having a motherfucking wedding,” Hen grins, tugging them both to their feet, uncaring of their delicate dispositions. “Right here, right now.”

“Hospital wedding?” Buck asks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, okay, what do we need—who do we call—fuck—”

“Calm down, Buckaroo,” Hen smiles. “Just get friends and family over here, Karen’s gonna pick up Maddie’s dress, I’m gonna call Bobby, and we’re having a wedding.”

Buck’s already pulling up a copy of the guest list on his phone, squinting at it and muttering names under his breath.

“You boys got this?” Hen asks while dialling Bobby.

“Yep,” Eddie gives her a mock salute. “We’ll split the list and make some calls.”

He types out half the names Buck reads off to him in his notes app, and the two of them work through them methodically, calling Chim and Maddie’s nearest and dearest for this impromptu ceremony.

“Chris will kill us if he misses it,” he says suddenly, and Buck looks up at him, mid-text.

“He’s with Isabel, right? Pepa’s place is only a ten minute drive from here.”

Eddie nods. “I don’t have my car, though. You drove me.”

Buck tosses him the Jeep keys. “I’ll finish calling people, you go get them.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and nearly bodies himself with the instinctive urge to lean over and kiss Buck on the cheek as he stands. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be, because it’s an urge he fought and failed about thirty times last night, Buck’s sweaty skin pressed to his, salty under his mouth every time he dropped an innocuous, friendly kiss to his face with nothing but alcohol in his veins.

It hadn’t seemed out of place then, everything shiny and bright, Buck leaning right back into him.

Now, under the fluorescents of the hospital, organising a makeshift wedding for their family? Eddie doesn’t think it would land quite the same.

“Back in twenty,” he tells Buck instead, and has to physically tear himself away from the smile Buck turns his way, warm and golden under the harsh lights.

Chris and Abuela are delighted to be included, and, true to his word, they’re back at the hospital as the rest of the guests begin arriving, too.

Eddie’s—okay, he’s not going to say he’s not a crier, it’s just that his best friend is Buck, who cries at anything remotely tearjerky, so in comparison, Eddie’s not a crier. Now, though, they’re both very much damp-cheeked, much like everyone else crowded into this hospital room, watching Maddie and Chim exchange rings and vows with little Jee between them.

They’re a family, have been and would still be even if they never got hitched, but the fact that Chim refused to wait another few weeks, another few days, another minute before marrying Maddie? Eddie’s chest aches in the best way, and he slings an arm around Chris, and, before he knows he’s doing it, he looks for Buck.

The ceremony’s over, and Buck’s grinning at his phone, and Eddie pats for his own automatically, anticipating a goofy text.

But Buck’s edging backward, slipping out of the room, still grinning at his phone, and the ache inside Eddie spreads like an inkstain, blotting his insides.

And then Buck reappears with Tommy, which Eddie knew he was going to do, because who else would have Buck smiling at his phone like that, leaving his sister’s wedding even for a minute. Not me, Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t.

He’s not ready to make sense of the churning inside him—he doesn’t think he can blame the hangover for this one—when he clocks Tommy’s soot-stained everything and the way Buck’s own smudgy face matches like a puzzle piece.

He sees the way Chim notices, and Hen and Karen, Bobby’s eyes going wide and then soft. He sees the way Margaret Buckley doesn’t even attempt to school her face into anything but distaste and he hates her, but Buck’s not even looking at her. He’s looking at Bobby, and then he’s looking at Chim, and he’s smiling, this wide, guileless spread of happiness across his face.

Eddie’s helpless to smile too, the churning too complicated to parse beyond easy joy at every step of Buck’s sexuality journey, and this second-hand relief he’s not sure he’s got any entitlement to—he doesn’t, does he? Sure, he can be relieved that Buck doesn’t feel like he has to stay closeted, that everyone who matters loves him just the same, but he doesn’t get to feel like any of the relief belongs to him. Not now.

Not—yet.

Tommy’s made his way to Chim’s bedside to congratulate them properly, and Buck’s squeezing through the guests to get to the Diazes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Chris. “Hi, Isabel.”

His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.”

Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat.

And beside the joy and the second-hand relief, there’s—this sense of profound loss. This emptiness, a space inside him he didn’t realise Buck had been occupying all this time. And now it’s like Eddie’s entered the room, finally, but the door is swinging shut on the far wall and Buck’s footsteps are echoing softer and softer as he leaves. Eddie’s late, he’s missed something he didn’t know was waiting, much less had a timeline on it.

The room empties out slowly, everyone giving the Buckley-Hans some space to rest, and Buck disappears down the hall hand-in-hand with Tommy.

“Y’all ready to go home?” Eddie asks Abuela and Chris. “We can get take-out.”

“Is Buck coming?” Chris asks.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie glances down the hall. “Although—” he pats his pocket, retrieving the Jeep keys, and startles when Buck appears by his shoulder.

“You have my keys,” he informs Eddie, stretching his hand out for them. Eddie drops them in his palm dutifully. “Juice bar? The fancy one on Sunset.”

Chris whoops excitedly, and Eddie smiles, even as his brow furrows.

“You’ve not got a hot date?” he asks Buck quietly as they walk to the exit.

“I drove you,” Buck shrugs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, stopping Buck with a hand at his elbow. “I think we can manage getting a cab.”

“I seem to recall you promising me a ‘sweet, sweet smoothie,’” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. “You tryna stiff me, Eds?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Uh—do you wanna ask Tommy along?”

“Nah,” Buck says easily. “Maybe another time. He’s just gotten off shift. I’m seeing him tomorrow, anyway.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods slowly, ache bittersweet. “Just us, then.”

Buck beams. “Me and my boys,” he crows, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him forward so he can wrap the other one around Chris. Isabel makes a noise of offense, and Buck hastily amends, “Me and my boys and Abuela. Dream team!”

Christopher groans at the very public embarrassment and Abuela smiles indulgently at Buck and Eddie lets himself get pulled along, safe in this room in his heart that won’t ever be empty, even if Buck’s not filling it in the same capacity as Eddie’s getting ready to allow himself to want.

It doesn’t matter. The door on the far wall’s not quite swung shut after all; it sits ajar, crack of light and Buck’s love spilling through. Maybe one day he’ll come back through it. Maybe one day Eddie’ll follow after him enough to ask.

[littlejuicebox]

Skin to skin.

Surprise surprise! A little drabble about baby Gale’s first few days of life. I love Dadstarion. This isn’t edited. Maybe I’ll edit it a bit later.

Warnings: babies, pregnancy, breeding and daddy kink if you squint really hard and hold a magnifying glass lol, mostly just fluffy feel good ridiculousness

A/N: I love Dadstarion and baby Gale OKAY

In case you’re new here’s the gist. Astarion had the Wish Spell turn him mortal, courtesy of Gale of Waterdeep (see ‘The Wish Spell Worked’ for details). Baby Gale was named to honor the Wizard. Here’s the labor and delivery story if you’re interested.

****

Baby Gale’s previously pink skin is tinged yellow when Astarion peers into the bassinet to admire the infant a few days after his birth. The sight instantly worries the elf; his stomach churns with concern.

The new father glances to where you are sleeping so soundly in bed, your first real lengthy stretch of rest in several days.

Shit.

Astarion doesn’t want to wake you and cause worry when you’ve had such a hard time sleeping these past few days. Every small whimper and coo from the newborn practically ripped his little love from precious, much-needed rest in a panic.

He thinks it might be nothing. Gale is still breathing and sleeping peacefully, and he doesn’t feel feverish. But he doesn’t know what to do, and wants to be absolutely sure, so Astarion carefully scoops the little one up, wrapping him tightly in the soft, embroidered blanket he’d made for his son one Midwinter evening.

“Come now, little prince. Let’s see what Auntie Shadowheart has to say.” The elf whispers to the bundle of blankets as he heads to the guest chambers.

After a quick examination, Shadowheart eases Astarion’s concerns with an uncharacteristically gentle tone. He thinks it’s likely because Gale is still sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“It’s just a bit of jaundice, Astarion. Quite common in newborns. It’s good you didn’t wake Tav, she would’ve had a fit if she saw Gale like this with no explanation.” The cleric murmurs, peering down at the little one, “Perhaps a bit of sunlight and fresh air for Gale, and I’ll draft some herbal teas for Tav to drink so the supplements will reach him when he feeds. I can sit with Gale in the sunroom, if you’d like to go back to Tav.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take him.” Astarion responds, and with a genuine tone that seems to be more and more common as he addresses his friends throughout the years, he whispers, “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

*

Ever since the Wish Spell granted him mortality, Astarion quite liked the sunroom. He typically took his afternoon tea here, basking in the sun’s rays and trying desperately to make up for the hundreds of years where he missed out on that wonderful aspect of nature.

But now, Gale is fussing slightly as a breeze carries through the open window, tossing his tiny silver curls about and causing a new sensation he doesn’t seem to like. His yellow-tinged face grows red in irritation, and his father is bouncing him, offering whispered coos of comfort and trying to settle the newborn. And Astarion is beginning to think the sunroom is a horrible place to be.

The baby is wailing when you appear in the doorframe, holding a tray of tea, and watching your husband as he worriedly begs Gale to settle down.

“Perhaps a bit of skin to skin, daddy.” You suggest gently as you enter the sun room and place the tray on a table nearby. You wrap Gale in your arms and gesture for Astarion to remove his shirt. He obliges with a frustrated huff and small roll of his eyes.

“You don’t need to use your flower child sensibilities as an excuse to see me shirtless, love. You really need only ask. I fail to see how this—“

You admonish Astarion with a small shh as you unwrap the still fussy newborn from his blanket before placing Gale on the elf’s chest. Then you drape the small piece of cloth over the baby.

“Now lay back.” You command, propping a pillow slightly so that Astarion can recline himself further onto the sofa. All at once, Gale seems to melt into the warmth of his father’s chest with a satisfied coo.

“What was that about my flower child sensibilities?” You ask your husband as you sit down on the couch, intent on sipping some of the tea Shadowheart brewed for you.

Astarion sighs. Bested, once again, it seems. He brings his hand up to rest it on Gale’s small back, feeling the sensation of his tiny body rising and falling with each tiny breath.

“Nothing, dear.” He murmurs before placing a gentle kiss on the newborn’s head.

You chuckle softly and then watch the duo with a content, love-sick smile, “I should tell you, Astarion. I don’t think you’ve ever looked more handsome than you do right now, shirtless and holding our jaundiced newborn in the sun.”

Your husband’s eyebrow cocks as he lifts his gaze from Gale to you, a small smirk stretching across his lips before he offers you a playful wink, “If you like this, darling, just wait until you watch me change a diaper or bathe Gale for the first time.”

You shake your head and laugh softly again as you sip your tea, “Yes, you may positively turn into a god before my eyes when I see that… and convince me to have more of your offspring, just to keep those visions coming.”

A little hum from Astarion as he considers this, “Then I shall certainly do my best to be as domestic as possible, darling. You were quite fetching, when pregnant with Gale, dear. I do hope that’s not the last time I get to witness you like that.”

“I don’t think it will be the last time I’m swollen with your seed, daddy.” You whisper with a wink in your husband’s direction, causing the flush on his ears to rise, “But for now, let’s just worry about returning this first one back to pink. Then we can discuss others.”

Astarion nods with a content smile and then closes his eyes as he holds Gale. Before long, your husband is sleeping with the newborn on his chest, unable to stay awake any longer as he’s also been positively exhausted from the past few days. The new father stirs slightly when you remove Gale from his arms, readying for the baby’s next feeding, but you soothe your partner and tell him to go back to sleep.

Astarion remains napping for a few hours, basking in the warmth of the sun and dreaming about three or four little silver-haired children running around the house, filling it with laughter.

[whimsicalpolitical]

I arrived - Matty Healy x Reader

you smoke weed for the first time and call matty cause you don’t know what’s happening

content warning: weed, sweet matty<3, comfort, also bsf!matty

Fuck. What did you think smoking with some guys from your classes one day before an important exam.

Your stomach churns violently as the world spins out of control. Everything feels too loud, too bright, and the streetlights flicker like they're mocking you. You feel like you’re floating one second and then crashing the next. Your heart is racing and you can barely hear yourself think over the noise around you. You stumble a little, catching yourself on a wall, your fingers gripping the cold brick for balance.

With trembling hands, you pull out your phone, scroll down to Matty’s name, and hit call.

It rings once.

"What's up, darling?" His voice is warm, casual, like he’s been waiting to hear from you all day.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you can’t even form words. "Matty... m’not feeling very well—fuck." Your voice comes out shaky, cracking a little at the end. The panic is so thick you can taste it.

There’s a long pause on the other end, and then his tone shifts instantly from laid-back to sharp concern. "What happened? Where are you?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your palm against your forehead as if it’ll help stop the spinning.

"I—I did something stupid," you mumble, voice thick with embarrassment. "Fuck, Matty, I... some guys convinced me to smoke weed and I’ve never-." You groan softly, wishing you could just melt into the ground.

There’s a shocked silence on the other end, before he blurts out, "What? What guys? Angel, you’ve never even smoked a cigarette!”

"I know, I know!" you cry, feeling like an idiot. "It’s just—they made it sound so okay, y’know? Like, 'Oh, just try it, it’ll calm you down,' and... now I feel like I’m dying." Your voice cracks on the last word, and you can hear him moving around, grabbing his keys or something.

"Shit." He exhales, frustration mixed with worry. "Alright, alright. First off, you're not dying, love. It's just your body freaking out because it’s not used to it. But fuck those blokes. You should’ve called me before you even thought about it."

"I know, Matty. I just didn’t wanna bother you... I thought I could handle it."

"Bother me?" His laugh is soft but incredulous. "Darling, you're never a bother. Now, where are you? Can you get inside?"

You look down the alleyway toward your apartment building, the shadows stretching out like they're waiting to swallow you whole. "I... I don't think I can. Everything feels so far away. I feel like I might pass out if I move."

"Alright, alright. No more moving. Just stay where you are. I’m coming to get you, okay? Don’t move a muscle."

"Matty—" you start, but he interrupts.

"I’m serious, angel. Don’t try to be brave and start walking. Stay right there, talk to me. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

“I’m a mess, this is so embarrassing.”

"Darling, listen to me. You are not a mess. You're just... in a bit of a situation, yeah? And I’ve seen you in worse, trust me," he teases lightly, trying to make you smile. "Remember that time at Ross’s party when you—"

"Matty," you groan, half in embarrassment, half because you're genuinely about to puke.

"Okay, okay, no jokes. Just breathe for me. Close your eyes if you need to, lean back against the wall, and keep talking to me. What did the guys say to convince you to do this?"

You let out a long sigh, trying to focus on his voice. "They just... I don’t know. Said it would take the edge off, make me feel better about the exam tomorrow."

"Ah, fuck the exam. Who gives a shit about that right now?" He huffs in annoyance. "And they’ve just left you then, alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I don’t even know them and they already piss me off, just, I’ll be there in a minute. Everything’s going to be alright.

You nod even though he can’t see it, your grip tightening on the phone like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. "Thanks, Matty."

"Course, love.”

You chuckle weakly. "Hurry up, yeah? I think the shadows are starting to look at me funny."

"M’coming. Just stay on the phone with me.”

And with his voice in your ear, the world feels just a little less terrifying.

You lean against the wall, knees feeling weak, barely holding yourself up as Matty’s voice keeps you grounded. The minutes crawl by, your heart still racing, and every noise feels like it’s trying to pull you out of your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensation that everything is just too much.

“Just keep breathing, darling. I’m almost there, okay?” Matty says over the phone, his voice steady, like he’s trying to will you calm through the line. “You’re doing amazing. Just keep talking to me.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” you mumble, your voice shaky. “Everything’s spinning, Matty. It’s so loud here... feels like my heart’s about to burst.”

“Hey, hey, shh... I’ve got you. Your heart’s fine, I promise. It’s just the weed, love. Makes things feel bigger than they are. It’s gonna pass soon.”

You hear his footsteps quicken through the phone, then, “Alright, I’m here. I see you.”

You blink, trying to focus, and through the blurry street lights, you finally see him—Matty, walking towards you in his usual black jacket, a water bottle in one hand, eyes searching for you.

The moment he reaches you, he tucks his phone into his pocket and crouches down in front of you, his eyes soft with concern. “Hey, angel. I’m here, yeah? I’ve got you now.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you at the sight of him. He looks so calm, so steady, like a lifeline in the chaos you’re drowning in. “Matty, I—" you start, but the words won’t come.

He shakes his head, gently shushing you. “No need to talk, darling. Let me take care of you, alright?” He uncaps the water bottle and holds it out to you. “First, take a sip. Slowly, yeah?”

Your hands are still shaky as you reach for the bottle, but Matty’s there, steadying you as you bring it to your lips. The cool water is like a balm, and you close your eyes, focusing on the simple act of swallowing.

“Good, that’s it. Just small sips,” Matty murmurs, his hand lightly resting on your arm, grounding you.

You take a few more before handing the bottle back, your breathing starting to even out a little. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, feeling embarrassed all over again.

“Don’t be sorry, love. Nothing to be sorry for.” He gives you a small smile, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Now, do you think you’re alright to walk inside? Or do you need me to carry you?”

You blink at him, trying to gauge how steady your legs feel. “I... I think I can walk. Just... slowly.”

He nods, standing up and offering his hand. “That’s fine. We’ll go at your pace, yeah? Here.” He wraps an arm around your waist, gently pulling you up, and you grip his shoulder for balance, leaning into him as he holds you up. His touch is warm, reassuring, and you immediately feel safer with him close.

"Got your key?" Matty asks, and you nod, fumbling in your bag for a second before pulling it out and handing it to him. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it open before looking back at you. "Ready?"

You nod, leaning more heavily into him as the two of you shuffle inside. It feels like the distance from the door to the couch is miles, but Matty is patient, guiding you gently the whole way. He helps you sit down carefully, as if you might break.

“There we go,” he says softly, crouching in front of you again. “Let me get these shoes off, yeah?”

You don’t protest, too tired to care as he unties your laces and slips your shoes off, setting them aside like it’s second nature. His movements are so gentle, so considerate, and you realize just how lucky you are to have him.

Just as you’re starting to feel like you might calm down, a piercing sound cuts through the quiet—sirens blaring outside, loud enough to make your head pound.

You wince, immediately clapping your hands over your ears. "Matty—" you whisper, your voice tight, eyes squeezing shut as the noise seems to fill your entire head.

Matty’s hand is on your shoulder in an instant, his touch soothing. "It’s alright, love, I promise. That’s just the weed playing tricks on your senses. It can make everything seem... too much. Your hearing, your sight, it all gets heightened."

You keep your hands over your ears, trying to block out the sound. "It’s so loud. Why’s it so loud?"

“It’s gonna settle down soon. Just focus on me, alright? You’re safe here."

You nod, focusing on his touch, on the soft sound of his voice. “You promise it’ll go away?”

“I promise, you just have to ride it out a bit longer, but I’m not leaving your side, okay? I’ll stay right here until you’re feeling yourself again.”

The sirens fade into the distance, and your ears stop ringing, but the tension doesn’t completely leave your body. Matty senses it and stands up, moving over to the sink to fill the water bottle again. He returns and crouches in front of you once more, offering it to you with a soft smile.

"Another sip, yeah? Gotta stay hydrated."

You take it, drinking slowly, grateful for the small gesture. He watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Better?" he asks quietly, and you nod a little, still shaky but feeling slightly more like yourself.

"You didn’t have to do all this," you whisper. "Coming out here, taking care of me..."

"Of course I did, darling. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you. No way I’m leaving you out there to deal with that alone."

“Besides, those fucking wankers just left you there, I wouldn’t be better than them if I did the same.”

You smile faintly, the gratitude washing over you. "I don’t know what I’d do without you, Matty."

"Good thing you’ll never have to find out," he says, his eyes soft as he brushes his thumb over your hand. "Now, how about we just sit here for a bit, yeah? Let you come back to earth, and then we’ll figure out what to do next."

You sit back on the couch, trying to focus on your breathing as the spinning finally starts to ease. Matty’s still next to you, his hand resting on your arm, grounding you like always. He’s watching you, his brows furrowed in concern but trying to stay calm, as if you might break at any second.

Just when things are starting to settle, there’s a knock on the door, loud enough to make you jump slightly. You look at him, confused. "Who’s that?"

Matty gives you a sheepish grin, standing up slowly. "I, ehm... might have ordered us some food."

Your eyes widen, and for a second, you think you might cry. "Food?"

"Yeah," he says with a little shrug, running a hand through his hair. "Thought it might help, y’know? Something greasy, soak up all the anxiety. Plus, I know you get hungry when you're stressed."

“Matty,” you smile, “you’re a lifesaver.”

Matty laughs as he strides over to the door.

He knew what you needed before you even knew yourself, and that’s what makes your chest warm as you watch him open the door and grab the food.

He brings the bag over, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you with a proud grin. "There you go.”

You lean in impulsively, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best, Matty.”

His grin widens, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, I know. But don’t let it go to my head.”

He pulls out the burger, unwrapping it and handing it to you like it’s some kind of prize. The smell hits you immediately, and your stomach growls in response. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were until now.

You take a bite, and a soft groan escapes your lips at the taste. “Oh my god,” you mumble through a mouthful of food, “this is so good.”

“M’glad,” he chuckles.

You glance at him, the warmth in his eyes as he eats his fries making you melt even more. You take another big bite, feeling the tension in your body slowly unwind with every chew. “Seriously, Matty... you’re a genius.”

He winks. “I know my shit, love. Stick with me, and you’ll survive just about anything.”

“I will.”

He leans back on the couch, watching you with amusement as you devour your food. “I’m just glad you’re eating. Means you're coming back to yourself.”

You nod, realizing that with every bite, you’re feeling more and more grounded. “I think I am. Still a little spacey, though.”

“That’s alright,” Matty says, popping another fry into his mouth. “It’ll take a bit. You’re doing way better than you were ten minutes ago, though.”

“Yeah, because you’re here,” you admit, taking another bite of your burger. “If you hadn’t shown up, I think I might’ve called an ambulance or something.”

“Love, if you’d called an ambulance for a little weed freakout, you’d never hear the end of it from me.”

You laugh, the sound coming out easier than before, lighter. “I guess that would’ve been a bit dramatic.”

“A bit?” He grins at you. “But that’s what I’m here for. To save you from yourself.”

You swallow the last bite of your burger, sighing contentedly. “Well, you did a damn good job tonight.”

“I’m aware,” he says, smirking. “Next time please do it with me in the first place instead of some random dudes, alright?”

“Sorry,” he’s right, though. He would’ve made you feel way more comfortable, “I don’t think there’s going to be a next time, I was just so stressed and they’re friends with my study partner and-��� you groan, “I thought it was an easy solution.”

“That’s alright,” he says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it, “you learn best by doing. Doesn’t mean I won’t knock them out if I see them.”

“Matty!” You push him slightly, “I’ll never show them to you, it’s not their fault. They probably thought I can handle it.”

You watch him as he takes a napkin and brush it against his mouth.

Matty just shakes his head, not buying your attempt to defend the guys. “Look, I don’t care what they thought,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I’m on your team, alright? They should’ve made sure you were okay, and they didn’t. That’s all I care about.”

You let out a small groan, leaning back into the couch, your body sinking deeper into the cushions. “Matty...”

He cuts you off with a smile. “Nope. Not hearing it. End of story.”

You sigh, but there’s no point in arguing with him. He’s being overprotective, but it’s also why you love him. “Fine,” you mutter, watching as he stands up, collecting all the wrappers and containers from the table.

He moves around your apartment like he’s been here a hundred times before—which, to be fair, he has—tidying everything up without saying much. Once he’s cleared the coffee table, he grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and shakes it out.

“Alright, up a bit,” he says, motioning for you to scoot over. You do, albeit slowly, and he drapes the blanket over you, making sure it’s tucked around your shoulders. The warmth feels immediate, and you find yourself sinking even further into the couch, already feeling more at ease.

“Better?” he asks, kneeling beside the couch again, his hand brushing lightly over your hair.

You nod, your eyes feeling heavy. “Yeah. Way better. Thanks, Matty.”

He smiles softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You should sleep, alright? Rest is gonna help you feel normal again.”

“Will you stay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, a bit of vulnerability sneaking through.

Matty’s smile softens, and without hesitation, he nods. “Of course, love. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

You let out a small breath, feeling relief wash over you. “Okay,” you mumble, your eyes already starting to drift closed. “You’re the best, Matty. You know that, right?”

He chuckles softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that a couple of times tonight.”

You smile, but it’s sleepy, your body already giving in to the exhaustion that’s been tugging at you for the last hour. “Good... just making sure you know...”

Matty stays by your side until your breathing evens out, the soft hum of the city outside the window fading into the background. You feel safe, warm, and completely at ease with him there.

Just before you fully drift off, you hear him whisper, “Sleep well, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

[thatrandomwriter]

Caught

Ghostface Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, sexual language, knife-play

Summary: What happens when Reader catches Stu before he can cover up the evidence of his latest murder?

It wasn’t like I’d never showed up to Stu’s unannounced before. In fact, I had done it plenty of times - either to surprise him, or simply because I could not be bothered to call ahead. But something felt off today, when I stepped through his unlocked front door and into his house. His was always leaving the front door open, even when his parents were out, which they had been for a few days now. I was always telling him to keep it locked, especially now with a killer on the loose, but he never managed to take my concern seriously.

“Hey, Stu, you upstairs?” I called up to him from the hallway.

“Yeah, I’ll just be a minute,” his voice raised at the end of the sentence, strained slightly.

I began to climb the stairs, “Everything okay?”

“Yep, yep, of course, just gimme a minute okay? One minute and I’m all yours, okay baby?”

I waited. One minute turned into five, and I decided that enough was enough. I finished my climb and pushed open his bedroom door.

“Stu?”

He turned to me, shirtless, his sweater bundled and bloody against his chest in one hand, a knife in the other. This was no kitchen knife, either, long and curved and dramatically pointed. It was the sort of knife meant for tearing through flesh.

“Stu,” I repeated his name - what else was there to say? His sweater was stained deeply red, he must have been in the middle of cleaning up whatever mess this was when I had arrived.

A grin broke out across his face. Then a laugh. My feet were frozen to the floor. This was a sound that should be heartening, but instead my stomach churned.

“Are you - are you the killer?” The words felt unnatural, ludicrous, even. Stu, my Stu, a killer? This was insane. There must be some other explanation for this, I thought, but still my body was frozen and my stomach felt choppy as an ocean.

“Oh baby, you’re so stupid,” Stu’s sweater had dropped to the floor, but he retained the knife, “How are you possibly surprised by this? Aren’t you supposed to know me better than anyone?” he pouted at me. Mocking.

“I thought I did,”

“Come on, now, don’t be like that - don’t act all high and mighty, hoity toity, morally superior,” he punctuated his sentence with the knife, gesturing into the air, “I know you get off on this shit - no-one watches Halloween that many times if they don’t want to fuck Micheal Myers,” Stu stepped towards me, slow and deliberate. I felt like prey.

My words stumbled, “That’s - it’s not true. And this is real life, not some movie, or a stupid fantasy,” So maybe I had an unhealthy interest in slashers. That was irrelevant. Micheal Myers had not killed any of my friends.

“Can’t I be your stupid fantasy?” He had backed me into a wall. There was no avoiding him now, no escape, no evading his touch. He placed an arm above my head, caging me in.

I felt cold metal sliding across my neck, down my chest. “Please don’t kill me,” my eyes were blurry with tears.

“Looks like you know your lines already,” Stu tilted his head down, lips making contact with my neck. Then teeth, pulling and sucking at the soft skin beneath his mouth. My breathing caught. I was achingly aware of the knife pressing into my side, and the feeling of him kissing my neck. My heart was pounding, and I was not sure which sensation contributed to it more - my persisting attraction to him, or the imminent threat posed upon me. Perhaps it was some strange combination of the two.

He pulled away to take in my face. I turned my head away, sure that if he saw my face directly, he would see the conflict on my face. But his hand gripped my jaw, turning my chin towards him so that his eyes could meet mine.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He was grinning madly, “Now I need you to promise me baby, that you won’t tell anyone about this? I can make all your fantasies come true, but you know what I’d have to do if you told anyone, right?” His knife, which had been pressed into my side just enough for me to be aware of its presence, began to press deeper. Enough to make me gasp. Stu groaned. “You make such pretty noises, don’t you?” he pressed the knife against me harder. I felt it cutting, not deeply, but just enough to draw blood.

“I promise, I won’t tell anyone,” It was not as though I had a choice. But still, my breath was heavy. I did not hate this, or Stu, nearly as much as I should.

“Good,” Stu did not remove the knife straight away, instead sliding it forwards, lengthening the cut. I cringed, attempting to pull away from the burning sensation at my side, but Stu had me held in place. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

“I said I promise, okay?”

Stu leaned in, catching a tear on his tongue as it fell. The corners of his mouth twitched up. “Prove it to me,” he challenged. I was not sure exactly how I could fulfil his request, but I made my best guess, leaning up to kiss him on the mouth. The knife let up as my mouth slid against his, my chin upturned towards him. His hand found the back of my neck, cradling the back of my head in a movement that pressed my mouth further to his. My lips parted to allow his tongue to glide against mine, playful, teasing. The heat of his bare chest burned even through my clothing, igniting my skin wherever we made direct contact, burning even hotter in contrast to the cold blade now grazing my ribs. My body arched under its caress. It was so wrong for me to derive any enjoyment from this, but I had no choice, I told myself. I was doing this to stay alive, that was it, not because the sensation of Stu’s knife against my body made me feel alive, sending sparks shooting up my spine. My hands found his back, tracing the hollow of his spine, fingernails finding friction. Stu’s teeth caught on my lower lip, biting down to elicit a gasp from me.

“Can I really trust you, baby?” Stu had pulled away, only slightly, to murmur against my lips.

All I could manage was a nod.

The knife rose to my neck, “I need to hear you say it for me,” Stu’s eyes were wide, wild. I did not doubt in that moment that if I did not give him what he wanted, he would slit my throat and likely enjoy it. The thought had my breath hitching in my throat.

“You can trust me, I promise,”

His eyes narrowed, analysing my face, scanning for any insincerity. I scratched down his spine again with my fingernails and he groaned, leaning down to kiss me again, long and lingering, “You sure know how to make keeping you alive worth my while,”

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | june 17 - june 23

note: this chapter contains NSFW content. it also contains references to (tw) nudes being leaked (spoiler alert), so if that bothers you or triggers you in any way, you may want to skip over that part. unfortunately, it is pivotal to the story. this chapter is 24.2k, so strap in. it will also be the last chapter for a little while (maybe two-three weeks) because i want to work on some requests and churn those out for my followers who aren't as passionate about this project as i am and some of you are. i need to feed everyone in our community, not just the STG Truthers!!

22:90 – HONEY

“So what happened while you were in the closet with Cole?” Honey asks, biting into a peach slice and gesturing with the remaining food. “We never had the time to discuss it.”

Bea blushes, the apples of her cheeks dusted in a sweet pink. She starts to giggle– the same reaction she has every time that Honey brings Cole up since the events of Seven Minutes in Heaven the day before. 

“Okay, it can’t have been that good,” Honey scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Quit your giggling and tell me what happened.”

“Okay, okay,” Bea says, taking a few deep breaths and calming down. She wipes under her eyes like she’s wiping away tears, but it’s an over exaggeration. Honey is unimpressed by the dramatics from her friend. “I’m only laughing because I severely underestimated him.”

“Severely,” Honey repeats, mouth wide open in surprise. “What happened?”

“So we go in the closet and I’m expecting to talk about Jack and his dick, like I told Cole I would if he spun and landed on me,” Bea says. She’s talking with her hands, waving her own peach slice at Honey. “But I get, like, two words out before Cole interrupts me and asks if I’m actually trying to sleep with everyone this summer.”

“Which you are,” Honey confirms. “So Jack told him?”

“I’m sure he did. I told Cole I was, and then he asked if I wanted him to make things easier for me.”

“What?”

“Then he kissed me and fingered me against the closet door and he made me come before our time was even up,” Bea reveals, counting off on her first three fingers and waving them in Honey’s face.

Honey gasps. “You’re kidding.”

“I am not. He just moved my panties to the side and fucked me with two fingers until I came. All the while, he was telling me about how badly he wanted to get his mouth on me,” Bea sighs, a faraway look in her eyes. “Then we went upstairs and he ate me out until I came three more times. Like, what the fuck?”

“Cole did all this?” Honey asks, barely able to believe it. 

“Dude, Cole,” Bea confirms, nodding vehemently. “I told you. I underestimated him.”

“Has Quinn even made you–”

“No.” Bea shakes her head, cutting Honey off. “Quinn has only made me come twice in a night. Cole made me come four times and we didn’t even fuck.”

Honey’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ but she doesn’t say anything.

Bea nods, holding eye contact with Honey.

“That’s wild,” Honey says.

“Dude, I know,” Bea replies. “I adore Quinn and he’s still my favorite of the guys, but, like… holy shit.”

“Well, you didn’t even fuck,” Honey points out. “Maybe he’s bad in bed and he gives head to make up for it.”

“I don’t give a fuck. If I want head, I’m going to Cole,” Bea states.

“That’s lofty,” Honey says. 

“I’m serious.” 

Honey feels a little stunned, blinking to clear her head. She can’t believe that Cole– Cole Caufield, the giddiest and goofiest man that Honey has met in years– is secretly a master munch.

“Rank them,” Honey suggests. “Of the three that you’ve hooked up with, who’s the best? What are their scores?”

Bea pops the rest of her piece of fruit into her mouth, chewing emphatically. “Great question,” she says. “But also, why do you want to know? Are you interested in joining me this summer? You can’t have Quinn, but I’ll share the other ones.”

“Well, I don’t really want to mess around with any of them, but especially not Jack,” Honey replies.

Bea hums, frowning. “You’re right. I think I’ve committed to the timer idea we had, but it might be too mean as is. I might have to sweeten the deal so I don't feel like a bitch. I have an idea about how, but I’m not sure about it yet.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me think about this ranking thing.” 

The girls fall into silence. Honey snacks on the rest of her peach slices, sucking the juice off of her fingertips. She cleans up her plate, walking into her kitchen and loading up the dishwasher. 

“Can you get me a pencil and paper?” Bea calls. “I’ll love you forever.”

“You already do,” Honey responds with a roll of her eyes. “Are you actually giving it this much thought?”

“There are a lot of factors!” Bea defends herself, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She cocoons herself in the blanket and seems to enter a conversation with herself in her mind.

Honey would laugh if she didn’t do the exact same thing in the car after her kiss with Jamie on the hike. She had actually spoken out loud to herself, weighing her options before eventually deciding that she needed to indulge Trevor at least once, just to see how she felt after.

The thing is, Honey was attracted to Jamie. She thought he was cute, she wanted to kiss him, and she enjoyed hanging out with him.

On the other hand: he wasn’t Trevor. Honey was drawn to Trevor inherently. That fact is still true after their rushed blowjob in the closet. It’s still true after Trevor’s desperate kiss. Honey hasn’t been able to shake the image of Trevor sinking to his knees and reaching for her. Honey knows she, like Cole, is good at giving head, but she hadn’t expected a reaction like that. 

Trevor was boneless and easy, agreeing not to tell the boys. He was eying her mouth almost constantly after she made him come, leaning into her space and putting his hands all over her. He whined when she stepped away, a sound that Honey can pull from her memory and replay over and over. It was a carnal sound, drawn from the depths of Trevor’s chest, and she swears he hadn’t even made the sound on purpose.

Truthfully, Honey wants to see how far she can go with this. Trevor is frustratingly annoying, filled with jealousy that’s boiling over each time Honey starts to bond with the other guys, and he’s hard to get through to. He’s a challenge.

Honey wanted something easy, she really did, but Trevor bore his soul to her in the closet and it won her over. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him any longer and what happened, happened.

She hasn’t told Bea. 

She really needs to tell Bea.

Honey’s just not sure how to broach the subject. 

As she opens her mouth to blurt out a quick “I sucked Trevor off in the closet while you were upstairs and no one knows but me and him and I don’t know what came over me!,” Bea claps her hands and announces that she’s ready to reveal her ranking.

Honey snaps her mouth shut and gives Bea her full attention.

“I need to seduce Luke if I want to make this a comprehensive list,” Bea clarifies. “So it’s incomplete until I get with him.”

“Okay,” Honey acknowledges, gesturing for Bea to get on with it.

“Jack is on the bottom, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Honey agrees. She and Bea had had an intense discussion the previous day before going to the boys’ house about Bea’s experience with Jack. They had meant to talk about the encounter briefly, but Bea and Honey had started laughing and making jokes about how quickly it was over, and they accidentally lost track of time. They were almost two hours late to the boys’ house last night, but at least Quinn cooked dinner for the girls.

“I’m giving him a five and a half because I feel bad going lower,” Bea decides. “He’s got room for improvement and it was fine. I didn’t come, but he was good at kissing and he made the prettiest little noises.”

“Hmm.” Honey nods her head, keeping silent about her own opinions about a boy making ‘the prettiest little noises.’ She hasn’t heard Jack’s moans, nor does she want to, but there’s no way that Jack sounded prettier than Trevor did while Honey blew him last night.

“Next is Cole,” Bea says. “I’m giving him an eight-point-eight.” 

Honey blinks in surprise. “Shit,” she says, impressed. “Without even fucking you, he’s almost at a nine?”

Bea reminds Honey that Cole made her come four times the previous night, dropping the detail that he never even took her dress off once they were upstairs. All he did was slide her panties down her legs and flip up the hem of her skirt, going down on her like it was the last night on Earth and he couldn’t be bothered to remove her clothes.

It’s appealing, to be honest. Honey might have to dig out one of her own sundresses and see if Trevor has a similar response.

Hmm. She hadn’t planned to hook up with Trevor again after that first time, but he was like a drug. Honey wants to see him be that soft and desperate for affection again. He’s sweet, so sweet, and Honey fears that she might like him a lot more than she wants to. She might even dare to hook up with him again.

She resents that fact. She can barely admit it to herself– nor will she admit it to Bea when she eventually tells her about Trevor. She sure as hell will not admit it to Trevor. He doesn’t need a bigger head.

“Quinn is number one, always,” Bea finishes. 

Honey nods. There was no question about it.

“I give him a nine point seven. He loses part of a point because Cole made me come more times in one night than Quinn has.”

“Are you going to tell him that’s why he’s not a perfect ten?” Honey asks.

Bea thinks about it, tapping her chin. “I’d say no, but he’s so competitive that I think he’d really try to beat Cole’s record. I know that would be such a good night for me, so… honestly? I might tell him.” Bea pauses, then she barks out a laugh. “Should I reveal the scores to them? We could do, like, a PowerPoint night.”

“That could be funny.” Honey drinks from her water bottle, then swallows quickly when an idea pops into her head. She snorts. “What about the chalkboard that they use for pool scores?”

“What, you want me to erase it? I think Luke’ll get mad at me,” Bea laughs.

“No, I want you to recreate it,” Honey replies. “Dude, you don’t even have to tell them what it means. We could see how long it takes for them to notice that you’re rating them based on sex.”

“That’s so funny,” Bea agrees. She raises a finger, tilting her head. “But do you think they’ll feel objectified?”

“Great question,” Honey replies in the same tone. “What if you give them a reward at the end? The winner gets… something. Sex tape for when they go home?”

Bea hums, intrigued by the idea. “We’ll workshop that. I could be down, but what if the boys aren’t?”

Honey shrugs. “We’ll think of something. Wanna go to the fruit stand and the grocery store and buy a board?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bea says. “Let me just text Quinn and tell him that I can meet up with him when we’re done. Do you want to drop me off after?” She’s already pulling her phone out and tapping out a message, a text that seems way longer than just an ‘I’ll see you when we’re done.’

She’s been texting a lot lately. Honey cannot believe that Quinn enjoys receiving all these messages.

“What do you guys even talk about?” Honey asks, grabbing a threadbare cardigan that Sacha knitted for her a few years back. 

“What do you mean?”

“You and Quinn,” Honey clarifies. “What do you guys talk about?”

They walk out of Honey’s house and to her car. Bea turns on the stereo, turning on her favorite music like she always does.

“We talk about a lot of things,” Bea says. “We talk a lot about hockey and his family. He told me about his ex-girlfriend the other day. It’s over between them, for good, but he misses her.”

Bea pauses, looking down at her lap. 

“He misses her?” Honey repeats, incredulous. “And he told you that?”

Bea sighs, rolling her neck back to stretch her muscles. She’s stalling. 

“Bea,” Honey insists.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bea says quietly, shaking her head. “We’re not exclusive, I’m not dating him.” She scoffs out a laugh. “I’m fucking his brothers and his friends. I think he’s allowed to miss his girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Honey corrects. 

“Ex-girlfriend,” Bea amends. She sighs again. “It’s fine, really. I want him to be open with me. I want to talk to him about everything. Unfortunately, that includes his exes.”

“You want to talk to him about everything?” Honey teases.

“He’s a great guy,” Bea says simply. She purses her lips and sucks her teeth before adding, “I think if I wasn’t having a Slut Summer, and I didn’t live in Litchton, I would want something more. But we’re having fun, and he’s leaving at the end of the summer, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Baby-Bea, you don’t actually believe that,” Honey says.

“I do. It’s just a summer.” Bea holds her hands up in surrender. “And he’s just a guy.”

Honey doesn’t reply. She just hums out a little tune along with Bea’s music, patting the steering wheel. They pull into the grocery parking lot and make their way across the parking lot. Bea is still singing the last song that played on their drive, and she and Honey are holding hands, swinging their interlocked fingers back and forth in big waves. Bea is skipping.

He’s there.

Honey stops dead in her tracks, right in front of powdery blue minivan. Her sudden stop yanks Bea’s arm back and she whirls to face Honey. 

“What?” She asks, her song dying out with a giggle that fades into a concerned frown.

“I blew Trevor in the closet last night,” Honey rushes out, entirely at a normal volume. 

A mother and her teenage daughter make a face when they pass Honey and Bea, certainly overhearing the sentence.

“What?” Bea repeats.

Honey clears her throat, borderline gagging on her breath. “He’s sitting at the fruit stand with a bouquet of flowers.”

“What?” Bea raises her voice, eyes widening as she twists. She squeezes Honey’s hand, clutching it tightly. When she spots the boy, she claps a hand over her mouth. 

“Oh my God,” Honey breathes out, feeling sick. She covers her own mouth. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh my God,” Bea repeats, a smile splitting her face. 

“You cannot talk to him,” Honey hisses. She holds Bea’s hand with a vice grip, keeping her from running towards him. “Bea, you can’t.”

“I have to,” Bea says, pulling Honey along. They struggle forward bit by bit until Trevor notices them and stands, smiling like a dope.

His eyes are on Honey’s. He doesn’t even look at Bea until she speaks.

“Trevor, those flowers are gorgeous!” Bea chirps, sounding extra bubbly. “What are they for?”

Trevor’s smile turns to a sharp glare when Bea snatches at them. He pulls them out of her reach and scowls. He keeps his mouth shut, but Honey knows there’s something crossing his mind.

“Go inside,” Honey growls, pushing Bea away. 

Bea practically goes limp, smug and gigging about having caused Honey’s struggle. Eventually, Honey tips her weight and she goes, stumbling into the store with a cackle. 

Then, Honey turns back to Trevor.

He thrusts the bouquet at her and bites his lip in a tiny smile. 

Honey brushes them away with the back of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t know what time you were coming to the stand today, and I didn’t want to miss it like last week, so I showed up when they opened, and bought these flowers around lunchtime because I needed to do something… or else I’d go crazy…” He speeds through the lengthy sentence, trailing off at the end. “I already sound crazy.” He looks down, bouquet drooping.

Honey feels lightheaded. She’s burning up. She presses the back of her hand against her forehead, staring at the boy. “Yeah,” she agrees. She nods. “You sound fucking crazy.”

Joan clicks her tongue at Honey, but returns to her magazine when Honey’s eyes flicker over to her. 

“We are in public,” Honey says to Trevor, speaking through her teeth. “I told you that you couldn’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t,” Trevor denies, tone combative. 

Honey almost bursts out in laughter. “What part of showing up in public with flowers for me is not telling anyone?”

“Well I didn’t– I didn’t say it,” Trevor stammers out, defending himself desperately. He shuffles back, waving the flowers between them.

Honey stomps over a few petals that fell from the bouquet when Trevor used it like a sword to keep her back. “I could strangle you.”

“Please don’t,” Trevor pleads. 

Honey takes a deep breath. She clenches and unclenches her fists at her sides. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to make you mad by not showing up,” Trevor explains. He nods, drops his gaze to the flowers in his hand and offers them again to Honey. “And the flowers are ‘cause I like you.”

Honey gasps, covering her face with her hands. “Trevor, we hooked up once,” Honey whimpers out, unable to believe it. “I don’t like you!” She chokes a little from the panic. 

Oh, my God, he assumed that Honey wanted more. 

“Trevor, I’m not looking for a relationship,” she whisper-shouts.

She sneaks a peek at him, and he’s blinking stupidly, back pressed against the wall of the building behind the stand. The flowers are pulled up against his chest, crushed beneath her own. She hadn’t realized they were so close. She steps away.

“You– you’re not?” Trevor asks, staying still. “But you said you were thinking about me–”

“Yes, I was thinking about you. I’m ovulating, Trevor!” Honey feels faint again and turns away from him, back to the edge of the road.

Trevor follows after her, reaching for her hand. “That’s fine,” he says. He catches her fingers and slides the bouquet into her hand, closing Honey’s fingers around the stems. “Honey, we can do whatever you want. I will take anything you give me.”

Honey lurches forward like he just slapped her on the back. She presses a hand to her chest. “Trevor, it was one blowjob. You know that, right?”

He pales a little, letting his fingers fall from her hand. Her fingers are slack around the stems. It’s a grouping of pink azaleas. The stems are a little stick-like against her skin. “You don’t want to go again?” Trevor asks. 

“I don’t know,” Honey drawls. She brings the bouquet to her other hand, holding her hands together like a prayer. “...maybe?”

“Scruffy’s has live music on Wednesdays, I looked it up,” Trevor says. 

The abrupt change of subject makes Honey blink in surprise. “I know,” she says. She loves Scruffy’s, but she usually only goes in the winter, when it gets dark early in the night. 

“I thought you would like it. Go with me.” Trevor ducks his head to capture Honey’s gaze. “All the boys can come, and Bea too.”

“Bea can do what?” The girl asks, returning with a large whiteboard in her hands. A bag with a pack of dry erase markers dangles from her wrist. 

“Come dancing with us at Scruffy’s,” Trevor explains in a rush to the deviant girl, just as Honey says, “Nothing, Bea, this doesn’t involve you.”

Bea’s eyes slide from Trevor to Honey. “I love Scruffy’s,” she says, nodding with a smug smile. “We’ll absolutely be there on Wednesday, Trevor. I will make sure of it.”

“Bea, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Honey hisses, her eyes narrow and full of fire. “I will not be driving you to see Quinn anymore.”

Bea snorts out a laugh, a look of delight on her face. “Trevor,” Bea calls, her eyes still glinting at Honey. “Will you drive me to your place right now so I can fuck Quinn in exchange for bringing Honey to Scruffy’s on Wednesday?”

“Absolutely I will,” Trevor agrees with a beam. 

“This is kidnapping,” Honey hisses at Bea. “I’ll have you arrested.”

Bea giggles, then leans into Honey’s face. Her nose nearly touches Honey’s, scrunching with pride. “Quinn will bail me out,” she brags, teasing Honey. 

She reaches up, taps Honey on the nose, then steps away. She loops her arm with Trevor’s and begins to walk off, taking the boy with her. 

Trevor waves a goodbye at Honey, grinning like a fool. “See you Wednesday, Honey,” he bids, his mouth wide in a laugh and eyes squinted shut.

She’s left standing there, bouquet in hand. She watches them retreat, blinking and unable to identify how she feels. 

There’s a tap on her shoulder. 

When Honey turns, Joan hands her a bag of peaches, filled to the brim. “Your friend bought you some peaches, too. He said you’d like them more than his silly flowers.”

23:90 – TREVOR

Trevor is taking a break. 

He just finished showering after a long training session outside with the boys. Before that, he and the guys had gone to Winston to find a tailor that could fit the Hughes boys for their NHL Awards suits. Ellen had been pestering the boys for a few days about the suits, wanting her sons to look sharp and handsome for the event. The excuse that the event was over a week away meant nothing to the boys’ mother, and Trevor decided a long time ago that he wasn’t going to disagree with Ellen. 

He deserves a break, and today, he wants to sit on his balcony and watch the sunset.

The sun has just sunk below the mountains, leaving the sky a dark orange. The clouds reflect the color, painted across the horizon in swirling strokes. The air is thick with the smell of impending rain and the sounds of cicadas in the trees. There’s a bullfrog in the distance, always croaking when Trevor least expects it, and it sounds a lot like Trevor’s father’s snores.

They’ve been in Litchton for almost a month. Bedford has always been Trevor’s home, and Anaheim is the place where Trevor really learned how to be on his own, but Litchton is special. It’s a fixed place, as silly as that sounds– Trevor feels like nothing from the outside world can affect him here. He feels free.

“Can I join you?” 

Jamie’s voice sounds from the balcony door behind Trevor. He’s soft-spoken, still treading lightly even though Trevor apologized for his behavior and tried to make things go back to normal.

Staying true to his promise, Trevor hasn’t told Jamie about the blowjob in the closet. 

It’s killing him. He needs to talk it out with someone– especially after what happened yesterday. Honey doesn’t want a relationship. Trevor doesn’t know what he wants, just that he wants her. Honey can’t seem to figure out how she really feels about Trevor. Trevor knows exactly what he feels. He doesn’t want to let her go when he leaves at the end of the summer.

“Yeah, come sit,” Trevor agrees. He pulls one of the rocking chairs on the balcony closer to his own.

Jamie takes a seat.

They rock together, staring out at the mountains and woods in front of them. Breaking the silence, Jamie speaks first.

“You know, Honey says if you can count ten rows of mountains back, you’re in Tennessee.”

Trevor finds himself counting the rows in his minds immediately. The clouds are heavy today. The orange is already fading and he can’t see that far. Five rows, maybe the shadow of a sixth if he squints. “That’s cool,” Trevor replies.

Another silence washes over the space between them, but it’s shorter than the previous one. Trevor breaks it this time.

“What happened on the hike?” He asks. Trevor’s been dying to know about the hike since Jamie left with Honey on Saturday, especially considering how close the two seemed after going on the hike together. He knows that something happened, as if driven by his gut, and Trevor knows that he’s not going to be happy about it.

“We hiked, ate lunch. She asked questions about me and I asked questions about her while we walked. She’s a really cool girl, Z.” Jamie stares straight forward, one foot up on the railing in front of them.

“What kind of questions?” Trevor presses.

Jamie snorts and shakes his head, looking down at his lap then up at Trevor. “You wanna know?”

“Obviously, or else I wouldn’t have asked,” Trevor sasses, narrowing his eyes at Jamie.

“I asked her how long you two had been fucking,” Jamie reveals without hesitation. He laughs when Trevor’s jaw drops, then continues. “Then I asked her why she wasn’t fucking you yet.”

“Oh,” Trevor says. It’s all he can think to say. There’s nothing else he could say.

“And then we conspired against you to make you jealous, so that you would make a fucking move. She was going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven until she got to go into that closet with you, even if it took all night.” Jamie nods when Trevor tilts his head at him, flabbergasted. “Z. Honey and I don’t want each other. Sure, we kissed, but she wants you. She wants you.”

“You kissed?” Trevor demands, all of his surprise turning to rage. “You kissed her?”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Relax.”

“Relax? You kissed my fucking girl, dude,” Trevor snaps, shifting forward in his chair and facing Jamie. 

Jamie takes a deep breath and shakes his head, closing his eyes in annoyance. “Jesus-fuck, Trevor. It is a miracle that the other boys haven’t caught onto this thing that’s happening between you and Honey. You’re even luckier that Quinn’s keeping your secret.”

“Quinn knows?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He knows that he gets on the older boy’s nerves and, usually, Quinn uses any ammunition he has to take Trevor down. 

Jamie stares at Trevor for a minute, amused yet baffled by Trevor’s ignorance. “Bea knows,” Jamie tells Trevor. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, then gestures at Trevor. “And if Bea knows…”

Trevor feels stupid for assuming otherwise. “That makes sense,” he concedes, pressing his lips into a thin line out of frustration for not realizing that on his own sooner. He reverts to anger. “You still kissed my girl.”

“Okay,” Jamie says. “Let me put it like this: I show up here, you guys tell me that there’s a girl hooking up with everyone, then a beautiful girl shows up at our door and drops a book off for you. She checks me out, blushes when I talk, even stutters a little bit, so I assume she’s the one who’s having her Slut Summer. When she comes back the following night, I learn that she’s not the one who’s hooking up with everyone, but she’s still gorgeous and not tied down. You hadn’t told me that you wanted her yet. I take a body shot off of her, and it’s hot, and we hang for the rest of the night. Then, she invites me on a date the following morning. You wouldn’t kiss her?”

Trevor scowls, wanting to grow talons and sink them into Jamie’s neck. Part of it is that he’s still pissed Jamie touched Honey at all, but the other reason is that Jamie is being logical and reasonable. Trevor absolutely would have kissed Honey if he was in Jamie’s position. He resents it.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Trevor lies.

Jamie blinks at him, unimpressed. 

“Okay, yeah, I would’ve kissed her,” Trevor amends. He sighs. “I still hate it.”

“I expected no less,” Jamie says. “You never really learned how to share, did you? Puck hog, girl hog… someone needs to put you back in preschool, buddy.” 

“I’m not going to share her,” Trevor declares. “Honey is mine. I’ve never felt like this before, Jim.”

Jamie hums, acknowledging Trevor’s words. “Are you sick?”

“What? No.”

“This is new for you,” Jamie says. “You’ve never been the most… committed guy.”

“Okay, I’m not a fucking cheater, dude,” Trevor snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly someone who wants to be with a girl long-term,” Jamie replies.

Trevor knows he’s right, but he doesn’t like the way Jamie says it. He refuses to respond, falling into silence with the boy next to him. The sky is turning navy and they can hear the boys yelling at the TV in the game room. They’re probably watching game five of the Cup final– Trevor hopes that it’s closer than the last game was. 

“How was the blowjob?” Jamie asks.

Trevor jolts to face him again. “You know about that?”

“She told me that you’ve gone crazy because of it,” Jamie replies, digging his phone out of his pocket and clicking around for a second before handing his phone to Trevor. “She also said you were freaking out and that you bought her flowers. What were you thinking?”

Trevor takes Jamie’s phone and scrolls through the messages. Jamie and Honey have been chatting consistently since Honey dropped the boy off on Saturday. The final message is from about an hour ago and it’s Honey telling Jamie to go talk to Trevor about ‘the blowjob in the closet that made him lose his fucking marbles.’

“So what happened?” Jamie asks, taking his phone back from Trevor.

Trevor thinks about what to say. There are so many explanations that he could give Jamie, but they all boil down to one thing. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Trevor sighs. He shakes his head, unable to believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth. “I need her like I need to breathe.”

Jamie is silent, speechless from the shock of Trevor’s statement. “What the fuck?” He asks, laughing nervously.

Trevor continues, explaining himself. “I know I just met her, J, but she’s so special. I need her in my life and I will take whatever she gives me.”

“What if she only wants to hook up?” 

“Then we’ll hook up.”

“What if she only wanted to do it this one time?”

“Then I’ll keep trying to convince her to give me another chance.”

“What if she refuses you and hooks up with Jack instead?”

“I’ll kill him.”

A smile breaks over Jamie’s face and he nods slowly. “You’ve got this all thought out.” He slaps his hands over his knees, then stands. The chair rocks behind him from the force of his movement. “I’ll report this exchange back to my boss.”

“Tell Honey that I’m excited to see her again tomorrow and that she needs to save me a dance,” Trevor says.

Jamie sucks in a breath between gritted teeth. “Oof,” he breathes out. “She already declared that I was her dance partner for the whole night.”

“Don’t make me pull your shoulder out of its socket,” Trevor threatens with a chilly smile.

Jamie just raises his eyebrows subtly and smirks, walking back inside the house and leaving Trevor alone.

The stars are starting to twinkle above Trevor’s head, and he tilts back in his rocking chair to search the sky. He’s nearing the end of his book and he’s been challenging himself to find the constellations he’s been reading about. 

He wishes Honey was sitting next to him and staring at the same stars. Although imaginary, he can almost feel her fingers intertwined with his.

24:90 – HONEY

Hiding from Bea was never actually an option. Honey knows that in her heart of hearts, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try. Her best bet was somewhere around The Reading Nook, since Scruffy’s is just down the road and they’re leaving directly from work. 

Bea actually brought clothes for Honey to change into when she showed up to work before lunch– a cute denim maxidress that has tiers of different washes on the skirt. It’s exactly something Honey would wear to Scruffy’s in the winter, with a little cardigan to keep her warm enough while dancing. This is the outfit that Honey’s wearing now, having been forced to change during her break by a watchful Bea. 

Honey is tucked between two of the stacks and a beanbag chair, hoping that her corner of refuge will be enough for Bea to leave the store without her. Then, Honey will sneak to her car and drive home, effectively avoiding Trevor for another day. She can’t avoid him forever, but she might be able to make it a little while longer before she’s forced to face him.

She decided that Trevor’s a lunatic who is looking too much into the relationship he and Honey share. She gave him one blowjob and he bought her flowers– a disproportionate response that left Honey reeling on Monday. She might’ve watered the flowers and thrown them in a vase on her bedside table, but that doesn’t mean she wanted to accept the bouquet. Accepting the bouquet is too real– it would give Trevor too much hope.

He forced it into her hand and offered her anything she wanted, so Honey thought about it. She wants him to not be so fucking obvious. 

Honey has lived in Litchton for a long time. In that time, she’s gone on two dates: one, with Gillian’s grandson while he was visiting for Christmas that went okay. The second was with some guy from a dating app that Bea made Honey download, and that date ended in tears because Honey was overwhelmed by the boy’s cologne– the same one that she used to know all too well when she and Bea were still living in Charlotte.

The townies know Honey as an independent girl. They know her as a person who won’t stand for nonsense, a person who isn’t interested in frivolous things. She likes what she likes and her routine stays the same. 

Trevor has completely overthrown her routine.

In a normal summer, Honey goes through book after book, reading and writing and having fun. She creates terrible art that never sells in the town-side yard sale in August. Bea drags her to Winston or Boone one or two weekends a month and they talk to guys their age until Bea finds someone to flirt with. Then, Honey heads back to Litchton to her own bed and usually has to wake up early to pick Bea up from her conquest’s house.

Now, they’re spending every weekend with the boys. Bea is even spending non-weekend days with the boys. Honey walked herself into a trap by declaring that the fruit stand was her and Trevor’s “thing,” whereas it’s supposed to just be hers. They’re going to the lake not to tan, but to boat with the guys. Bea is satiated and happy, giggling and glowing the way she does when she’s seeing a guy she really likes. 

This is Bea’s ideal summer and it’s quickly turning into Honey’s hell.

She’s not a relationship girl. She hasn’t been for years, opting to be independent and satisfied with herself, refusing to worry about being alone. That life, that stress, was left in Charlotte when she moved away. She’s determined to keep it that way.

Which means that she cannot, under any circumstances, hook up with Trevor again. She cannot give him a reason to believe that this was more than a one-night thing. It was just a moment of weakness and it can’t happen again.

Honey has taken some necessary precautions. She texted Jamie the previous day and begged him to dance with her all night, get drinks with her at the bar, sit at the table when she’s sitting at the table, and never leave her side. He swore he would, even pinky-promised over the thread of messages. 

It’s that fact that helps Honey remain calm when Bea finds her and rips the beanbag out of her clutches, pulling her up from where she’s curled up on the floor. 

“I can’t believe you tried to hide from me and made me close the entire store alone,” Bea complains, dragging Honey to the back room to grab their purses before heading out. She steals Honey’s keys rather than using her own to lock the bookstore, effectively taking away Honey’s only means of escape– her car. Had Honey bolted, like she considered, there would be no way to get into her vehicle and outrun Bea fast enough without her keys. 

Damn Bea. She thinks of everything.

They walk down the street, arm in arm. Bea’s brown cowboy boots click against the sidewalk with each step and the ruffled sleeves of her romper sway with the summer wind. The romper is a pastel yellow with white daisies dotting the fabric. It’s short, short enough that Jack will probably drool over her and Quinn will make sure his hand stays on Bea’s waist all night. 

The walk to Scruffy’s takes less than five minutes. They don’t even have to cross the street. Scruffy’s is the building on the corner of the main road, the last thing you see before you drive past the town of Litchton and head further up the mountain. Past Scruffy’s, there are only ranches, farm life, and Honey’s little abode. Scruffy’s is like the end of civilization.

It’s been in business for generations. Scruffy’s is where Earl and Vera met, funnily enough, more than half a century ago. Last year, their anniversary fell on a Tuesday, and Vera came into The Reading Nook gushing about how they’d been married for fifty-three years officially. Honey had asked and she had gotten the full story– that Vera and her girls (the same knitting group) went dancing in Scruffy’s after their senior prom ended and it was there that she was asked to dance by the most handsome man in the joint. That man was Earl, who won Vera over with just once dance, and they were dating by the end of the night. He was sent to Vietnam less than two months later, but they were married in a short ceremony the night before he was shipped off. Earl was 21. Vera was 17.

It’s a little gross to Honey, but she’s impressed that they stuck it out this long. She’s impressed that Vera and Earl still love each other, even after fifty years. They had multiple kids, lived in the same small town their whole life except for Earl’s stint in ‘Nam, and they’re still happy. Part of the reason why Honey came to Litchton after leaving Charlotte is because of relationships like Vera and Earl’s– they stand the test of time up in the mountains. Everybody finds their person.

Honey loves Scruffy’s because it represents the culture of Litchton. It’s one of the longest-running businesses in the area. It’s a place where people go to meet, dance, and have fun. There aren’t many places like it anymore. Honey would much rather go to Scruffy’s than join Bea on a night out in Winston-Salem– it’s where she first learned to play pool.

Selfishly, Honey wonders to herself about the odds of stealing Quinn away from Bea for a night of pool. It would frustrate Bea to no end– and it might be the perfect revenge.

“Before we get in there, I want you to know that you’re not playing pool tonight,” Bea says as if she can read Honey’s thoughts. “And if I see you by the pool table, I’m telling the boys that you blew Trevor in the closet.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “First kidnapping, now blackmail? Who are you? What have the boys turned you into, a villain?”

Bea laughs, a twinkling sound that has her whole body rolling. “Baby, I was always a villain,” Bea says with a wink. “The boys are just encouraging me to be the worst version of myself.”

“Yeah, at my expense,” Honey shoots back.

Bea just grins. “Exactly!”

With that, Bea swings open the door and the girls step into the bar. It’s shabby and dive bar-esque, but the music spilling from the speakers near the stage transforms the place. 

The band is made up of a group of local dads who have been playing in the area since they were teens, having abandoned their big dream of becoming rock stars to settle down in their hometown with their wives and families. Honey has hustled most of these guys before at the pool table, although she’s never been quite able to beat Andrew, who plays bass for the band. 

Whereas the wood floor seems creaky when there’s silence in the halls, now it seems to glimmer beneath the dancing feet that adorn it. The exposed brick walls echo the laughter of drinkers in the booths, reflecting the cheers of when a new round appears as if by a miracle.

Bea leads Honey to the back of the bar, where they find the boys in one of the bigger booths. Quinn is sat on the edge of the booth next to his brothers and he easily pulls Bea onto his lap, perching her on his thigh. Honey stands at the end of the booth, her palms flat against the table separating the groups of boys.

“You can sit right here, Honey.” Cole offers his own thigh, gesturing to the “seat” like Vanna White. 

Honey forces a smile onto her face. “I’ll stand.”

“No, you don’t have to stand,” Trevor jumps in, trapped between the wall and Jamie on Cole’s side of the booth. “We can find you a chair.”

“It doesn’t look like you’ll be escaping anytime soon to find me one,” Honey retorts. She’s pleased that he’s stuck in the booth, but she’s still itching to put some distance between them. “Jimmy-Jam, want to go dance?”

“Sure, Honey,” Jamie says with a smile, nudging Cole so the boy can let him out of the booth.

“Oh, that’s too cute,” Bea coos. “Honey and Jam. You’re like a little kindergartener’s lunchtime sandwich.”

Honey and Jamie, now standing next to each other, turn and make eye contact. They evaluate each other briefly, then Jamie shrugs. “I guess it is like that.”

Honey sees Trevor frown, but puts the image out of her mind. Focusing on Trevor leads to disaster (like in the closet), which leads to even more disasters (the bouquet of flowers and Trevor tripping over himself to date Honey), so Honey really ought to avoid him altogether. She drags Jamie off, across the bar and towards the dance floor, finding a place near the stage. They’re dancing with the music on one side and the old, 1950s pinball machine on the other.

Honey loses track of time, spinning with Jamie under the dim light of the bar. The spotlights are all trained on the lead singer of the band, a man named Arn who is still desperately clinging to the hair left on his head. 

She and Jamie laugh and talk as they dance, having the best time. It’s Jamie’s last night in town, he reveals during one of the slower songs of the set. He’s driving back to Charlotte tomorrow with Trevor, flying out of North Carolina and back to Toronto around two in the afternoon. The men are singing ‘Amarillo By Morning’ by George Strait and Honey is overcome with a brief feeling of sadness.

“You’re really leaving?” Honey asks. “So soon?”

Jamie smiles, sympathetic and sad. He nods gently, squeezing Honey’s hand in his own. “Z only booked me for a week.”

“Cancel your flight.” Honey pouts, resting her forehead on Jamie’s shoulder, pulling him closer with the hand on his shoulderblades. “You should stay.”

Jamie drops a kiss on the crown of her head, then rests his chin on top of where he laid his lips. “I’ll text you all the time.”

Honey wishes she could stomp her foot and put a petulant glare on her face until Jamie relents, but she knows it’s just not realistic. 

“I should warn you,” Jamie whispers into Honey’s hair. “Trevor’s coming over here and he’s not going to take no for an answer.”

Honey looks over her shoulder and catches Trevor’s eyes as he approaches. He’s determined, staring directly at Honey.

“May I?” Trevor asks when he makes it to the pair, nodding to Jamie in a dismissal. 

Honey feels betrayed the moment Jamie lifts her hand to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles. He’s got a hint of laughter glimmering in his eyes and if she weren’t so sad he’s leaving tomorrow, she would pop him on the noggin for abandoning her. 

Jamie hands her off to Trevor, placing her palm in his, and Honey suddenly feels shy.

Trevor pulls her close, reaching his arm around her waist and clutching at her opposing ribs. Her hand rests in his, just inches away from their bodies. Her other hand slides across his back and her fingertips brush the hair at the nape of his neck. She peeks over Trevor’s shoulder, watching Jamie walk away. 

The band is playing something more upbeat now, a modern country song that Honey vaguely recognizes. 

Jack and Bea are dancing off to their left, halfway across the dance floor in the direct middle, and Jack is trying to spin himself under Bea’s arm. She’s giggling and Jack tumbles against her, crowding her space. His hands find Bea’s hips and he sways against her, leaning in to touch his nose to Bea’s own. She throws her arms around his neck and allows him to dip her, pecking his lips on the way back up. 

Trevor’s not as energetic. He sways with Honey, but his touch is more like a grasp than a lead. Honey aches.

“Why didn’t you ask Jamie to stay longer?” Honey asks quietly. She’s embarrassed to ask the question at all, embarrassed to admit that she’d grown so fond of the boy. She knows that they’re all just visiting, but saying goodbye to Jamie is a daunting task that makes Honey think of why she left Charlotte. 

“I did,” Trevor replies, surprising her. “I asked him if he would stay for another week, but he’s anxious to get back to his buddies and training. He’s got his own summer routine.” Trevor’s temple presses against Honey’s own, his mouth hovering right next to her ear. “He only came because I was desperate.”

Honey fails to respond to his statement with anything more than a hum. She’s distracted, watching the remaining boys at the table polish off a pitcher of beer. Quinn stands to get more and brushes off Bea’s invitation to come dance with a good-natured wave. 

The band starts to play a cover of one of Bea’s favorite songs, a duet between a man and a woman that Honey only remembers because of how anguished the couple sounds. The lyrics of the song are something about begging for time to come back and Honey grimaces at how real the song feels.

“I wish he didn’t have to leave,” Honey admits, the pout on her face feeling permanent. 

“Me too,” Trevor says. It’s reassuring. “I’ll miss him.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor steps away, raising his hand and guiding Honey underneath it. He guides her through a series of steps, surprising Honey with his sureness and precision. She ends up facing the stage, her back pressed against Trevor’s chest. 

“How do you know how to dance?” Honey asks, a little laugh affecting her words.

“Cotillion and lots of weddings in the summers,” Trevor replies, spinning Honey away and then pulling her back into their original position. He smiles, inches from her face. “I know my way around the floor, just never really had a partner to dance with.”

Honey’s smile fades as he reaches the end of his sentence. She pulls away from him, dipping her head to avoid his eyes. Her hands fall to her sides, then she hugs herself, shaking her head. “We’re not partners, Trevor,” Honey says. “That isn’t what this is.”

Trevor’s own hands fall to his pockets. He’s got jeans on, and some creased white sneakers, and it’s the most dressed up Honey has ever seen him. He looks normal, like any other guy that she would dance with in another bar– in another life. 

“What is it, then?” Trevor asks. He’s not pushy. He doesn’t sound curious. He just sounds resigned. 

“A mistake,” Honey whispers, rubbing over the goosebumps on her arms to try and soothe them away. “We hooked up once, Trevor.”

“Honey.” Trevor’s face falls and it’s a sight that makes Honey want to run for the hills. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

Honey bites the inside of her cheek, thinking over her next words carefully. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“And you’re running away from it. Give me a chance, Honey,” Trevor implores, reaching for her hand again. “I promise, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I just want you to give me a chance.”

Honey pulls away. “I can’t do this again, Trevor.”

“I need you,” Trevor says.

The words settle in Honey’s stomach like a cinderblock at the bottom of the lake. He’s telling the truth– Honey does not see an ounce of doubt in his eyes. 

“Honey, I have not been able to think about anything except you for weeks,” Trevor continues. “Please.”

Honey steps back, her throat tight. Her eyes are darting every which way, just trying to avoid Trevor. She can’t hold his eyes for longer than a second, but a second is long enough to shake her head. 

She leaves him on the dance floor, joining the boys at the booth. She squeezes herself between Jamie and Luke, leaning into her friend’s figure. Jamie wraps his arm around Honey’s shoulders and she buries her face in his chest, squeezing her eyes shut. 

She’s right. She can’t do this again. She left her hometown after her last real relationship soured and rotted. Honey cannot let the same thing happen to her life in Litchton, especially not when Trevor’s going to leave at the end of the summer anyway. She’ll never see him again once he’s gone and things will go back to normal. It’s better this way.

25:90 – TREVOR

“I can’t believe you have to go,” Trevor says. He and Jamie are parked in the daily garage outside of Charlotte’s airport. 

“You’re the one who booked the ticket,” Jamie replies, the same excuse he’s used every time Trevor has brought up the end of his stay in Litchton. He’s got half of a smile on his face as he looks at Trevor.

“You could’ve changed it,” Trevor argues.

Jamie scoffs, laughing. “Dude.” He opens the passenger door and starts to climb out of the car. “You’re never going to make any moves on Honey while I’m still here.” He slams the door shut and rounds the car, pressing the button so that the trunk starts to open.

Trevor gets out of the car and joins Jamie in the back. He hops up and sits on the edge of the trunk, letting his feet dangle. “Was she serious about what she said to me last night?”

Jamie furrows his eyebrows. “What did she say? She didn’t tell me anything.”

Now it’s Trevor’s turn to be confused. “She didn’t say anything when she went back to the table?”

“No,” Jamie says. “Should she have?”

“I mean…” Trevor trails off.

“What did you do?” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face. He grabs his carry on and sets it on the ground next to him.

“I didn’t do anything, really,” Trevor replies. He looks at his nails, then brings his index finger to his mouth to bite off a hangnail. “She just… shut down.”

“What did Honey say?” Jamie repeats, voice hard. He’s staring at Trevor now, eyes full of disdain. 

“That hooking up with me was a mistake and she can’t do it again,” Trevor says begrudgingly, a sarcastic smile on his face. 

“That’s… weird. I’m going to call her when I get through security.” Jamie extends the handle of his carry on, then kicks the bag so it’s perched on two of its wheels, ready to roll out. “You should go to the store when you get back. You finished that book today, right?”

“Yeah, this morning,” Trevor confirms.

“Return it. Buy it, I don’t care. Just talk to her– you can win her over.” Jamie shrugs. “I know she’s got some baggage that she doesn’t really like to talk about, but you could always ask. That’s how I won her over.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you got to kiss her,” Trevor grumbles.

Jamie takes a deep breath. “On that note, I’m out.” He reaches out to pull Trevor onto his feet and into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Thanks for the week, Trev. Don’t let her push you away, really. She likes you, I can tell. She’s just not ready to admit it yet.”

Trevor pulls away, dapping Jamie up as he does so. “I’ll try.”

“Just be yourself,” Jamie corrects. “Don’t try too hard.”

“Yeah, you’re right, she’d hate that,” Trevor says, chuckling to himself a bit.

“She’d hate that,” Jamie confirms at the same time. 

They stand in the parking garage for a moment longer, chuckling until their laughter dies in the wind. Trevor clears his throat and smiles, pulling Jamie in for another hug.

“Have a safe flight, Jim,” Trevor says. 

“Have a safe drive, Z.” Jamie begins to walk away, raising his hand over his head in a wave. “See you when the Ducks play the Flyers.”

“Yeah, if neither of us gets traded– again– before that,” Trevor adds. He closes the trunk of the car and climbs back behind the steering wheel. 

“Get over it!” Jamie’s voice is distant, echoing off the cars. 

Trevor responds by slamming his door and laying on the horn. 

He pulls out of the garage, paying the toll, and finds his way to the highway. He’s heading north to Litchton and he’s got about an hour of interstate time before he pulls off and takes the winding mountain roads the rest of the way. 

Trevor spends all of that time trying to stop thinking about Honey. He plays his music and sings out loud. He rolls his windows down and lets the wind wash over his face, messing up his hair in every direction. He even tries out an audiobook, which he hates, and turns it off within five minutes of starting it. 

The drive goes by faster than he thinks it will, or maybe it’s just getting easier each time he does it. 

Trevor feels a little bit like he does every time he heads back to Anaheim after the summer now that Jamie’s gone. The feeling never changes, even though he’s gotten better at managing it. It’s pure melancholy– knowing that he won’t see Jamie again for so long. It’s like when he leaves the Hughes boys or Cole, or even worse, when he visits home for a while and has to leave his family behind.

Trevor pulls into the driveway of the rental house, leaving the car running while he heads inside to grab his book. 

He knows just the cure for this weird mood that he’s found himself in.

Honey.

From the kitchen, Luke asks Trevor what he’s doing, but Trevor pays him no mind. He’s busy. Once he’s got his book in his hand, he’s walking back out the door and taking off in the car. 

He plows past Quinn, who is pulling back into the driveway after spending the night with Bea. That’s the best news yet for Trevor– if Quinn is only just now getting home from Bea’s place, then Bea is still getting ready to go to The Reading Nook. There’s a good chance that Honey is alone. 

Trevor has to get there first– he has to talk to Honey without a crutch. He’s going to convince her that he’s worth it. He just has to be less… direct. The commitment to Trevor is what’s scaring Honey, he can tell, and her fear is the one thing that’s really holding them back.

After almost a month on the mountaintop, Trevor feels comfortable enough to take the curves up the mountain the same way Honey does, loose and fast. He makes it up the mountain in record time and pulls into the grocery store parking lot, but walks the opposite way. 

He approaches The Reading Nook and finds the front of the store mostly empty. There are a few adults wandering around, but he doesn’t see Honey. 

Trevor follows the echo of voices to the back of the store, through the stacks to the cozy children’s reading area, where Honey is perched on a stool with a short picture book in hand. There are about fifteen kids of different ages crowded around her, all giving her their rapt attention as she reads the story. 

The book is familiar to Trevor– he was about the same age as these kids when his teacher read this book to his class for the first time. He doesn’t remember the name of the book, or the message, but he remembers the image of the dark-haired girl’s skin turning into rainbow stripes. Trevor’s face twists at the mention of lima beans, but he quickly realizes that he just forgot about that very important (and absurd) detail.

Honey hasn’t noticed him yet– she’s making faces at the children and doing different voices for each character. She’s making the toddlers giggle and the school-aged kids howl. Her nose is almost constantly scrunched up, accompanying a smile, and it’s infectious.

Trevor crosses his arms against his chest and leans on the edge of one of the stacks, admiring Honey. He’s hidden among the parents, smiling a little at the anonymity. In his mind, he’s acting out a movie scene where he’s waiting to pick his girlfriend up for a date and she’s running late because she’s nurturing the youth of the town. Trevor imagines Honey’s face lighting up when she spots him. He imagines Honey wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss when he approaches.

The real thing is not quite as romantic. 

As Honey is closing the book, wiggling her eyebrows at the kids and laughing a little when they whine and beg for another story, she scans the faces of the parents around Trevor. When she spots him, he gives her a little wave, and her mouth straightens into a thin line. It’s the only indication that she’s seen him because she just keeps looking around the room.

There’s a little boy kneeling in front of her, pulling at her skirt and pouting when she waves him off. 

“Luca, I’m not Bea,” Honey teases. “I’m a one story kind of girl and you got a long one today.” She taps his nose with a smile, which causes the little boy to giggle and grab at her fingers.

“It’s a shame, you know,” the mom next to Trevor says. “He loves it when she reads.”

“She’s entertaining,” Trevor agrees, not sure why she’s talking to him.

“Is this your first time at Story Time? I don’t think I’ve met you before. I’m Jessie,” the woman says, sticking her hand out for Trevor to shake. “Luca is mine. Which one is yours?”

Trevor shakes her hand, but lets out a relieved breath. “Trevor. I’m not a dad. I’m just here to drop my book off and I didn’t see Honey up at the counter.”

Jessie laughs. “Is Bea still not here? She used to be so much better about being here on time. It’s not like her to miss Story Time.”

“I think something came up,” Trevor covers, knowing full well that Bea and Quinn were tied up in the sheets until the early hours of the morning. 

“I was 22 once,” Jessie says, a smile curving her lips. 

“Mmm, and I heard rumors that you and Tyler used to drink at the water tower when you were 16,” Honey interrupts, sidling up next to Jessie and Trevor. The little boy, Luca, is attached to her side, hugging her thigh with one arm and sucking his thumb with the other. “So I can’t imagine the trouble you got up to at 22, Jessie.”

“A lady never kisses and tells,” Jessie replies, leaning in to press a kiss on Honey’s cheek. “Thank you for the amazing performance, as always. Luca wishes you would read more often. He misses you.”

“He barely has time to miss me now that his Mommy stays at home with him,” Honey says fondly. She reaches down to ruffle Luca’s hair and puts her hands under his armpits to lift him up. She sets the boy on her hip and presses a kiss to his forehead before handing him off to Jessie. 

Jessie takes her son and sets him on her own hip. Luca wiggles in her grasp, reaching for Honey. He whines, lower lip wobbling when his mom won’t let him go back to Honey. “Maybe Honey can come hang out with you sometime soon,” Jessie soothes her son. She looks to Honey. “Mommy and Dad can go out to dinner.”

Honey giggles, cooing as she reaches to wipe the fat tears from the corners of Luca’s eyes. “I’d be happy to babysit my favorite little man. Just call me when you decide on a date night and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Honey.” Jessie bounces Luca on her hip. “Say bye to Honey, baby.”

Still pouting, Luca raises his hand and waves. It’s less of a wave and more just the toddler flopping his wrist around so his hand moves, but Honey returns the wave nonetheless.

“Nice meeting you, Trevor,” Jessie calls as she walks away. Luca turns in her arms and his big eyes peer at Honey for as long as they can. She’s smiling at the boy until he and his mother are out of eyesight, then she turns to Trevor.

“What do you want?” Honey asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

It never fails to impress Trevor how quickly she can turn on and turn off her charm. Not that he’s not charmed by this. He’s always charmed by Honey, even when she’s being mean.

“I’m here to return my book,” Trevor explains, lifting the item so she can see the cover. “Or buy it, I haven’t decided yet.”

“You can’t buy it,” Honey says in a monotone voice. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” She walks off toward the counter and Trevor follows.

“That’s a stupid reason.”

“Well, it’s a stupid reason for a stupid person. Fitting.”

“Hey,” Trevor laments. 

Honey looks up at him, sliding onto her stool behind the counter. She holds her palm out, ready for Trevor to balance the book on the surface. “Give me the book.”

Trevor holds onto the book with both of his hands, frowning at Honey. “No,” he replies. “Ask nicely. You’re being mean.”

“I could be a lot meaner,” Honey says, pointedly glaring at Trevor as she snatches the book from his grasp. She types something on the computer, then slides the book onto a cart behind her. When she turns around, she folds her hands on the counter and stares at Trevor. “Do you want your receipt?”

Trevor makes a face. “No, I don’t want my receipt. What–”

“Good. Get out.”

Trevor’s mouth is agape. He’s staring at Honey in bewilderment. “I thought Jamie talked to you.”

“He did.”

Trevor flounders, trying to think of a response for her curt, two-word sentence. It’s barely even a sentence! It doesn’t even have a predicate! He fails to think of an answer and stands uselessly at the counter, unmoving in front of Honey. 

Honey waits. She watches him. They’re still for a good minute, just looking at each other until Honey pulls a book out from under the counter and opens it. She flips to a page about a quarter of the way through and begins to read.

Trevor is still standing in front of her.

The store has cleared out for the most part. A few children and parents are still in the kids section and an older woman is sitting at one of the tables near the back room, flipping through her own book. 

Trevor leans down, crossing his arms and leveling himself against the counter. He sets his chin on his hands and waits for Honey to look at him.

“What are you doing?” She asks, barely glancing at him before turning the page and cocking her head to the side, paying extra attention to the new words on the left side of her book. 

“I’m hanging out with you.”

“Why?” Honey’s lip curls in judgment and she scoffs. 

“Because you cheer me up, and the boys wouldn’t get it.”

“The boys wouldn’t get what?” Her eyes linger on him a little longer this time before returning to her book.

“They won’t be sad that Jamie left, but I know you are. We can be miserable together,” Trevor says, batting his eyelashes at Honey. 

She just looks him up and down, then pushes his arms off the counter.

Trevor straightens up. “C’mon, Honey. It’s hard to be apart from your friends, especially if they’re more like family. I was just hoping to see you.”

“Because seeing me makes you feel better,” Honey adds, unimpressed. She glares at Trevor for a moment, then turns to the next page of her book.

“I like hanging out with you. It’s easy to forget my problems when you’re around.”

“Good line.”

“It’s not a line, it’s actually how I feel.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were so in tune with your emotions.”

“You, of all people, should know that I’m a big fan of following the heart.”

“I couldn’t possibly care less about your heart, Trev–”

There’s a rustle of paper and a thud as the older lady sets her book down. “Honey,” she snaps.

Honey lights up at the interruption, looking over to the woman. “Yes, Ada?”

“Put the poor boy out of his misery,” Ada scolds, a tilted frown on her face. “You’re not helping him.”

“Ada–” Honey tries.

The woman raises her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. One of your friends is upset and you’re being rude to him.”

“I promise you, he’s not–” Honey says, but she’s interrupted again.

“I want you to take the day off tomorrow and spend it with him.” Ada nods at Trevor, then continues. “Because we spread kindness in this town. We do not perpetuate another person’s misery.”

Honey ducks her head. “Yes, ma’am,” she grumbles.

Ada picks her book back up and flips through the pages. “Now I’ve lost my page,” she complains. “Consider how Christ would view your actions, Honey, and how they affect others around you.”

Honey gawks at the woman, affronted and angry, shown by the tilt of her eyebrows. She snaps her jaw shut and looks up to the sky, thoughts racing behind her eyes and through her mind. 

Trevor’s got an amused little smile on his face, but he wipes it from his expression before Honey can spot it.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” Honey snaps. “Bea will text you the directions. We’re hiking up Stone Mountain. It’s an hour drive from here. I’ll meet you there at ten. Don’t be late, or else I’m starting the hike without you.”

“Do you want me to bring a sandwich for you?” Trevor asks, careful not to argue with Honey. He remembers Jamie packing a lunch for Honey and he wants to do the same– maybe if he recreates Jamie’s hike, then he’ll have the same success.

Honey looks at him with disdain. “I’ll pack my own. Thanks. Go away.”

Ada hums, but doesn’t look up. 

Honey cuts her eyes at the older woman, but plasters a smile on her face when her eyes return to Trevor’s. She turns her charm on, just for appearances. “Thank you for visiting The Reading Nook. Feel free to come back anytime.”

Her voice is sweet, customer service-y, but she’s glaring at Trevor and shaking her head ‘no’ as she says the words. She does not want him to return. 

Trevor most certainly will be back, if only to plant a smacker on Honey’s boss and thank her for the set-up. “See you tomorrow, Honey.”

“Yep.”

Trevor walks away, but he catches another scolding from Ada to Honey as he walks away. It sounds like Ada wants Honey to attend church this Sunday.

Maybe he can convince Bea to bring him and the other boys along.

26:90 – HONEY

She’s standing at the trailhead, next to the information board. Honey’s been here a thousand times, the view at the top of the mountain being one of her favorites in all of western North Carolina, and Trevor is late. It’s 10:11 and she told him to be on time or else she would start without him. It was an empty threat, but now she’s really considering it.

Honey’s phone rings in her bag and she has to scramble to dig it out.

“Hello?” She asks, not glancing at the screen. There are only a few people that have her number and would know that she’s off work today. Those people are Ada and Bea– and Honey is pretty sure Ada isn’t calling her.

“Trevor wants to know where you are.” Bea’s voice is choppy due to the service being so finicky in this area. 

“What? I’m at the trailhead. Right next to the sign. He doesn’t see me?” Honey asks, searching the parking lot. She raises a hand above her hand and waves. “I’m waving. Tell him to look for the girl who’s waving.”

“I don’t have two phones,” Bea snaps. “How am I meant to talk to you both at the same time?”

“Yes, you do,” Honey scoffs. Of course Bea has two phones– she’s at work right now. She can use the store phone to call Trevor and relay the message. “Use the phone at the Nook.”

Bea groans into the phone. “That’s so much work. Are you sure I can’t just give him your number?”

“Absolutely, I’m sure! What the fuck?” Honey exclaims, covering her eyes with her hand. “I told you no.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t listen. I already gave it to him, but he wanted me to call you first.”

Honey opens her mouth, a snarl rising up her throat.

“Have fun with your loverboy!” Bea laughs a little as she hangs up, the dial tone ringing in Honey’s ear. 

Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and scowls to herself, closing her eyes and looking up to the sky to calm herself. Bea has been on her nerves lately. Honey understands that the girl wants what’s best for Honey, but good God– does she have to meddle so much?

The phone starts to ring in her hand, a (914) number flashing across the screen. Honey stares at it, letting the phone ring a few times before she answers it.

“Hello?” She asks as she answers, annoyed.

“Honey? It’s Trevor.”

“I figured.”

“Where are you? I’m at the trailhead.”

Honey blinks, then looks around her. “No, you’re not. I’m at the trailhead.”

“No, you’re not? I don’t see you.”

Honey looks at the information sign next to her. She reads the location in her head, then it dawns on her. She winces, covering her eyes with her hand again. “Are you in the upper parking lot?” She wipes her face, then her hand drops to her hip. “Look at the sign next to you.”

Trevor is silent on the other end of the call. After a moment, his sheepish voice fills Honey’s ear. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Honey sighs. “This is Bea’s fault. I’ll come to you.”

“No, I’ll come to you!” Trevor corrects, sounding like he’s already jogging back to his car. “Don’t move an inch. I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up, leaving Honey standing next to the lower trailhead. She’s lucky that no one really wants to hike the five-mile loop that Honey chose, especially not in the summer, otherwise there would be a constant stream of people passing her while she waits for her date.

Not that it’s a date. She’s being forced.

Trevor is racing across the parking lot towards Honey before she knows it, catching her hand in his as he approaches and panting out an apology. “I didn’t know there were two different trailheads,” he says. 

Honey pulls her hand away. “It’s okay. Bea should’ve told you.”

Unable to take a hint, Trevor just grins. “Well, now you have my number. We can just talk directly.”

“I already had your number. I don’t want to talk to you directly. That’s why I made you go through Bea,” Honey tells him, turning her back and starting up the trail. 

Trevor follows after her, quickly falling into step next to Honey. “You already had my number?”

Honey hums, nodding. “Bea gave it to me.”

“Why didn’t you use it?” Trevor wonders.

“Because I didn’t want to.” Honey adjusts her bag on her shoulders. She keeps her fingers wrapped around the straps as she walks, just in case Trevor does something stupid like try to hold Honey’s hand. 

“Honey, I really think you should just give me a chance–”

“Do you run, Trevor?” Honey asks, cutting him off.

“Not really. I’ll do sprints and stuff on the ice, but I’m not really a runner,” Trevor replies, making a confused face at Honey. “I broke my–”

“Cool.” Honey tightens the straps of her bag and looks down to make sure her shoelaces are double-knotted. “Race you to the peak. Just follow the trail.”

She takes off, putting distance between herself and Trevor. Honey hasn’t run consistently in a while, but she’s able to manage her breath well enough to run the two miles to the stone top of the mountain. Trevor plods along after her, but she loses him about a mile into the run.

Honey catches her breath once she breaks through the trees and steps onto the clearing of the peak. The stone is ashy and dry, but the different shades of stone across the face of the mountain give off the appearance of a waterfall. 

Honey reaches into her bag and takes out her camera, looking through the viewfinder to capture the skyline. She takes a few pictures, even balances her camera on a rock to set up her own timer picture. Finally, she hears the pounding of feet against ground coming up the trail and she turns her camera on the entrance to the clearing.

She captures Trevor’s final moments in quick succession– the relief that the run is finally over, the way his breath continues to run away from him even as his feet slow, and the annoyance washing over his face at the sound of Honey’s laughter.

He stalks toward her, grimacing noticeably when he steps out with his left foot. Honey dances away from him, evading his grasp and snapping pictures as she goes, giggling at his annoyance. The more Honey steps away from Trevor, the harder he tries to catch her, and the harder it is for him to keep a smile from making its way onto his face. 

Honey documents the whole thing– the transformation of his gaze from irritated to playful, the growing curve of his lips into a fuckass smile and a laugh, and the final moment when he snatches the camera out of her hand. 

Trevor turns the lens on her, snapping away and getting all up in her face. She pushes him, and the camera, away when she notices him trying to zoom in up her nostrils. He’s so fucking weird. 

Honey takes the camera back from him and tucks it into her bag, swapping the item for her lunch. It’s a little crumpled up from the time in her bag, but the food is still good. She reaches for her peach, looking to snack on the sweet fruit. She pauses when her hand brushes against the second peach she packed– the peach that she packed for Trevor.

“You know, you were right the other day,” Trevor says. 

Honey can hear just how feigned his nonchalance is from the second he opens his mouth. He’s thought this moment out, probably reenacted an idealized version in the shower yesterday, but he’s still hesitant to say anything.

“I really haven’t spent enough time trying to get to know you.”

Honey’s head snaps up, eyes fixing on Trevor. That’s not what she expected him to say. She doesn’t know where she thought this was going, but it wasn’t here.

“I want to know you, you know?” Trevor continues with a shrug. “I don’t want to have you around just to have you around. I want to know everything about you.”

Bea’s voice echoes in Honey’s ears. “I want him to be open with me. I want to talk to him about everything.” The realization washes over Honey like a spill soaking into a paper towel. She feels sticky, a result of the understanding, and a little panicked. Trevor likes me the way Bea likes Quinn. 

Honey ducks her head and studies the peach in her hand. It’s fuzzy and prickly against her fingertips, grating against the grooves of her fingerprints. She turns it over, moving the fruit from one hand to the other. It’s mostly red, dark and ripe. It’s got a bruise near the bottom and the stem is still intact. Honey picks it, twisting until it comes free, and she flicks it away.

Trevor keeps talking. Honey is barely listening, but he captures her attention again with an apology.

“I’m sorry I haven’t put more time into getting to know you– I was caught up in how I felt about you. It’s kind of shallow, but I think I didn’t try hard enough to talk to you because I felt like I already knew you.”

Honey stares at him, lips parted. They’re growing dry with each ragged breath she draws in, but she can’t speak.

“I feel… tied to you. You’re special,” Trevor explains, finally floundering over himself. Honey expects that he didn’t think he would get this far. “I’ve never had to try to prove myself to someone before, and I probably should’ve given up by now, but I just… I like you so much, Honey. I feel like I can’t lose you, and I don’t even have you yet.”

“You don’t even know me,” Honey says, a weak defense.

“That’s my problem,” Trevor agrees. “I haven’t even tried.”

“No, you haven’t.” Honey’s voice is far away, indicative of the mess of flames and smoke swirling around in her head. 

“Will you let me get to know you?” Trevor asks. He has stepped forward, closing in on Honey, and the hem of her t-shirt has found its way between his thumb and index finger. He’s just feeling the fabric, unaware that he’s keeping her from stepping away with his featherlight touch. His mouth quirks at the edges and he gives her shirt a little tug. “I’m desperate,” he adds in the wake of Honey’s silence, looking a little amused at his own words.

Honey tears her eyes away from the pinched fabric between his fingers. She lets her bottom lip drop from between her teeth, an unconscious reaction to Trevor’s words that she finally recognized and corrected before she drew blood. Her hands are shaking, so Honey tightens her grip on her peach and clamps the fingers of her other hand on her wrist. 

Trevor notices, of course he does.

“I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready,” he says, dropping his hand to his side. Honey misses the weight of it already. “I really will take anything you want to give me, Honey.”

“I can’t date you,” Honey says. “I can’t do that.”

“If I asked why, would you tell me?” Trevor prods delicately.

Honey shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Is it because of me?” Trevor asks, some reluctance seeping onto his face. He looks down and scuffs his shoes against the stone face of the mountain. “Is it because I’m in the NHL?”

Honey shakes her head. 

Trevor barely catches the movement, only looking up at Honey when her silence stretches too long. “It’s not me?” He asks, his features softening.

Honey could cry. His concern, his relief, his overwhelming and obvious desire for her, and his ability to just come out and say it is too much. She lets out a breath, reaching out to pinch the hem of Trevor’s shirt the same way he held hers. She tugs him closer and Trevor comes easily, tilting his head and raking his eyes over her features in admiration. He brings a hand up to her jaw, thumbing over her cheek.

“It’s not you,” Honey tells him quietly. “I’m just… stuck.”

“What do you mean?” Trevor asks, matching her pitch. He traces the collar of her shirt.

“I moved to Litchton five years ago after some stuff happened in my hometown. It wasn’t pretty and I kind of, you know… swore off dating and everyone from Charlotte except Bea,” Honey explains, ducking her head to the side and sighing in the middle of her sentence. “So I can’t date you, Trevor. I’m not there.”

“We don’t need to date,” Trevor assures her. He pauses, then rolls his eyes and cringes. He forces his next words out, an edge cutting into his voice. “We can be friends if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God, I hate you,” Honey sighs. “Obviously I don’t want to be your friend, Trevor.”

“Yeah, for a second I forgot that you hate me,” Trevor says. He twists his lips with an exaggerated “ugh,” then smiles at Honey. “I was thinking about the blowjob. It’s very hard to think you hate me when you’re swallowing my cum.”

Honey scoffs, clenching her jaw. “Fuck off.”

Trevor hums, pouting at her. “What do you want from me?”

She takes a deep breath, then glares at him through her eyelashes. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the second peach, dropping it in Trevor’s hand. “I want sex.”

“Now?” Trevor exclaims, looking around. There’s no one on the peak with them, but Honey shushes him anyway.

“Not now, you moron,” she chastises. “Why would we have sex now?”

“That’s a really good question,” Trevor says. He points at Honey, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. I was just excited that you said that.”

Honey laughs and shakes her head. “Just sit down and eat your peach, Trevor.”

He nods, a big goofy smile on his face. Trevor plops down right where he stands, reaching for Honey’s hand and tugging her down to sit next to him. “Thank you for the peach.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So you were thinking about me,” Trevor teases. “Are you still ovulating?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Honey snaps, rubbing a hand over her face so that he can’t see the smile on her face. She only takes her hand away once her face smoothens itself out and she can look at him without blushing.

Trevor bites into his fruit and chews, watching Honey with an amused glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about you,” Trevor prompts through a mouthful.

“Well, for starters, I don’t like it when guys talk with food in their mouth,” Honey announces. 

“Mm, I guess I’m out of the running.” Trevor leans against Honey, taking another bite. 

Honey rolls her eyes, an unimpressed smirk taking over her mouth. “Just… shut up and I’ll tell you my favorite movie.”

Trevor lights up, then makes a show of zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. He bites his bottom lip and scoots closer, their knees touching. 

Honey doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t tell him anything substantive about her life either. Trevor doesn’t push her, although he does ask her a few questions that she has to shake her head at– the first: the names of all the people who made her want to leave Charlotte, the second: if he could lick the peach juice off her lips, just to name two examples. He’s frustrating and annoying and a loser, but Honey would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy herself. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like Trevor’s company.

He tells her about his family on the way down the mountain. She tells him about how she doesn’t talk to her parents anymore. He tells her about his teammates and reveals a few embarrassing stories from the years he spent with the Hughes boys and Cole. Honey tells him about the times she and Bea would go out in the city and she’d hustle the pool players while Bea found a date. He tells her about how he broke his ankle this past year, and for a moment, Honey feels bad about making him run up the mountain after her. Then she remembers that he has her phone number now and he will certainly abuse that privilege, so she gets over her guilt quickly. Trevor talks about his life and Honey talks about hers– despite their differences, Honey likes hearing about his life as an athlete in California. It’s a side of life that she’s never heard about before. 

About halfway through the hike, Trevor’s hand brushes against Honey’s and she almost reaches to intertwine their fingers. She can barely hold back.

When they make it back to the parking lot, Trevor walks Honey to her car. He tries to open the door for her, but it’s locked, so Honey laughs at him a little bit. He pinches her hip for laughing, then swats her keys out of her hand to unlock the vehicle himself. He successfully opens the door for her and hands her keys back, then leans against the vehicle, blocking Honey from shutting the door. 

“Will you come over tomorrow?” Trevor asks.

“I think Bea already invited us over, so I’ll probably make an appearance.” Honey keeps her voice light, aloof. 

Trevor is unimpressed, frowning at her. “How can I get you to promise to come over?”

Honey mulls the question over, taking extra time before she responds just to make Trevor squirm a little. “Can you promise me something?” She asks as an answer to Trevor’s question.

“Anything,” Trevor vows, sincere in his words.

“I don’t want anyone to know about this. How am I supposed to maintain my street cred if I suddenly act like we’re friends?” 

Trevor chuckles a little, leaning down to press his lips to Honey’s cheek. They’re soft, but his skin is growing a tad bit scratchy. He must not have shaved this morning. “Whatever you want,” he says. “I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

“Then I promise to come over tomorrow,” Honey says with a smile. “Now, get away from my car before I run over your foot.”

“Yes ma’am,” Trevor drawls, raising his hands in surrender and stepping back. 

Honey reaches out and closes the driver’s side door, hitting the lock button out of instinct. Trevor hears the click and frowns at her, his eyebrows scrunched together. Honey rolls her eyes then waves goodbye, pulling out of her parking spot and heading home.

Trevor passes her on the highway ten minutes later and Honey can’t have that, so they race the rest of the way to Litchton.

She wins. Obviously.

27:90 – TREVOR

“Stop texting me!!! I’m at work!!!”

This morning, Trevor grinned at his phone. “I only texted you once and all I did was ask what you’ve got on today”

“& I’m not answering that! Stop being a creep! I can’t stand you”

“Ok, so sit down. Can’t a guy get to know a girl over text?”

“I am not telling you what I’m wearing. Do not sext me at work.”

“Whoa, whoa. I only asked what you’ve got on. Got GOING on. You’re a dirty girl, Honey.”

“Oh My God. What is your fucking problem?? Don’t make me block you, Trevor.”

“:(”

After the events of the hike yesterday, Trevor has been using and abusing Honey’s phone number. He texted her that he had gotten home safely last night, which she hadn’t replied to. He texted her a goodnight message, which she hadn’t replied to. He texted her a good morning, to which she gave a thumbs up. Taking that as a good sign, Trevor typed out a question of what Honey had going on today, but then giggled at the potential double entendre and sent “What have you got on today?” instead. 

He thought it would get him a reaction and the rewards he was reaping were so, so sweet. Talking to Honey, no matter how angry she was, was a joy. 

Trevor wants to do it all the time. He likes her so much. 

It feels impossible, but Trevor is even more connected to Honey than before. He’s on a high and has been since she told him that her hesitance is not his fault. 

The relief leaving his body was almost comparable with the feeling of Honey’s mouth around the head of his cock.

And once that image entered Trevor’s head, he was helpless. He couldn’t think of anything else all day. Honey is coming over tonight, and he’s been very, very hard since this morning.

It’s getting harder to hide from the boys, too. Trevor can only sit with a pillow halfway over his lap for so long before one of the four immature goons notices and starts to chirp. 

Trevor has reread his texts with Honey no less than six times since he sent his final sad face– now that Honey’s shift is just under an hour from ending, Trevor thinks it’s time to send her another message.

“When are you coming over? I miss you” Trevor types, not hesitating for a moment before he hits send. He grins at his phone like a goof, then tucks it into his pocket when Jack looks his way. Trevor pulls the edge of the pillow up to hide his erection from the boy. He’s really got to get his dick under control before the girls show up. He stands, drawing the eyes of the boys. 

“I’m going upstairs,” Trevor says. “Holler for me when the girls show up.”

Quinn snickers from the corner of the couch, his laughter breathy and quiet. Other than that, no one says anything, eyes glued on the television once again. Cole had turned on some reality show that Bea recommended, and all the boys are enraptured. 

Trevor pads upstairs, tugging his shirt off as he enters his bedroom. He collapses onto his bed, face down, and groans into his pillow. He stretches his limbs, feeling the joints in his shoulders pop. With a sigh, he rolls his hips once against the mattress before turning over and palming his cock. 

He scrolls on his phone for a while, mindlessly watching Instagram pictures load and clicking through stories. He fists his cock over his shorts, just holding the length. He glides his hand down to cup his balls and turns his phone off, shoving it under his pillow. 

Trevor feels himself out, squeezing and releasing his cock every so often. He’s not quite stroking, at least not until Honey’s face pops into his head again. 

“I want sex,” she had said the previous day. To say that Trevor was down for that was an understatement– sure, he wanted to be around Honey in more than a physical way, but he’d be an idiot if he pushed the topic. He’ll win Honey over eventually, but for now, he’ll just make her feel so good that she forgets she ever disliked him at all.

He can’t seem to decide which fantasy he wants to focus on while he takes care of his problem– it’s like every possible sexual encounter he could have with Honey is flashing through his mind at a rapid pace. He considers her hands, then her mouth, her tits, her pussy, over and over again, never deciding on one image as he starts to move his hand over his cock.

Trevor loses track of time and most of his clothes in the passing minutes. He’s only just wrapping his hand around his bare cock, imagining Honey’s soft lips against his own and her delicate fingers under his, when someone opens his bedroom door and gasps.

Trevor flinches, immediately scrambling to cover himself up with his blankets. “Dude!” Trevor exclaims, expecting to see one of the boys in his doorway. “Knock much?”

When he turns to face the intruder, Trevor pales when he sees that it’s Honey. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open, one hand frozen on the doorknob and the other covering her heart like she’s a grandmother clutching at her pearls.

“I’m so sorry,” Honey rushes out. “I was just coming up here to yell at you for being fucking annoying, I didn’t realize you were… occupied. I’m just gonna–”

She starts to turn, pulling the door behind her, but Trevor calls out her name to stop her. 

“No, you should stay,” Trevor corrects. “After all, you’re here in my imagination. You might as well watch in real life.”

“Watch?” Honey snaps, incredulous. “Have you lost your mind?”

Trevor pushes the covers off his body, fisting his dick and stroking it back to full hardness after it had flagged a bit upon Honey’s original intrusion. It’s not difficult to get back to the point where Trevor was before she walked in, just the sight of her causing a chill to run up his spine. He bites his lip and groans when he swipes his thumb over his slit, spreading his precum over his tip. 

Honey is still frozen, but her eyes are drawn to Trevor’s cock and her bottom lip has found its way between her teeth. 

“Better yet,” Trevor continues, allowing his hand to stop moving and rest at his base. His cock jumps in his hand, seeking out more friction. “Why watch when you could help?”

Honey’s jaw drops again, blinking in surprise. “Help?” She repeats.

“You still want sex, don’t you?” Trevor asks. “You told me so.”

“I– well, yeah,” Honey says, stumbling over her words. She opens her mouth to say something else, but ends up shaking her head and shrugging. 

“So come here,” Trevor beckons. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to. I was just thinking about how your fingers would feel on my cock. Will you show me?”

He starts to move his hand over his cock again, slowly. His skin slides against his palm, the glide that was harsh at first becoming more and more effortless as he continues to leak precum from his tip. 

The shock of the moment has painted a pretty pink blush across Honey’s cheeks and her open mouth further exacerbates her dangerously attractive cheekbones, reminding Trevor of the way they looked when her lips were wrapped around his cock. Honey stays frozen, but Trevor can see that her nipples have grown hard and are pebbling against the fabric of her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. Excellent.

“Honey,” Trevor says, waiting for her eyes to find his. “Please don’t make me ask again.”

Honey shakes her head. “No. Ask me again.” She takes a step forward, then another. 

Trevor relents, watching her approach the end of the bed. “C’mere,” he pleads. “Come help me.”

Honey climbs onto the bed and crawls toward Trevor, running her hands up his thighs and sitting back on her heels between his legs. She runs her hands up over his hips, deliberately avoiding his groin in favor of feeling over his stomach and sides. 

Trevor drops his cock, lacing his fingers behind his head. His member stands away from his hips, erect and twitching invitingly at Honey. 

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor requests.

“No. We’re not elongating this any more than we need to. I’m going to make you come and then we’re going to go downstairs and I’m going to kick Luke’s ass at pool and you’ll try not to get hard again when you watch me bend over the table,” Honey replies, reaching for Trevor’s dick. 

Trevor moans when Honey leans down and spits over the head of Trevor’s cock. He watches her saliva drip down his shaft and disappear between her fingers, acting as a sort of lube. She licks his tip like a kitten at a bowl of milk and moves her hand up and down, her grip on Trevor’s cock deliciously tight and practiced. Despite swearing off dating five years prior, it’s like Honey hasn’t lost any of her talent. 

Trevor’s hips buck up into Honey’s hand when she circles her lips around his tip and suckles lightly. The tip of her tongue flicks over his slit, then lathers the skin around his cockhead. In this position, Trevor has a great view of the curve of Honey’s lower back, the waistband of her jean shorts pulling away from her skin and revealing the lavender underwear she’s hiding beneath her clothes. Trevor lets out a low whistle when his eyes trail further up her body, fixing on the tattoo marking the small of her back. He’s surprised he hasn’t noticed it before. It’s a dragonfly, surrounded by two branches of flowers. The tattoo is made up of thin but sweeping black lines and it’s so perfectly Honey that Trevor makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

“C’mon, Trev,” Honey goads. “People are going to start wondering what we’re up to. Hurry up.” Her hand speeds up, twisting over his shaft. 

Trevor keens, pushing up into Honey’s grasp. 

“It’s embarrassing how badly you want me,” Honey teases. “You’re so easy.”

“You’re so pretty,” Trevor replies, voice strangled and caught in his throat.

The pleased little smile that crosses Honey’s face makes his heart jump. She shakes her head at him fondly, then takes him back in her mouth. She hollows her cheeks, creating a vacuum around Trevor’s cockhead. She hums a little against him, the vibrations causing Trevor’s thighs to spasm. Her left hand soothes his quad, kneading the muscle with a scratch of her fingernails, and Trevor spills over her tongue. 

Honey takes it all in her mouth like a champion, sitting back and swallowing, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Trevor watches the line of her throat move with her swallow and he wishes that his refractory period was nonexistent so that he could fill her mouth again. 

“Now that that’s over,” Honey says, shifting on her heels. She crawls up, straddling Trevor’s waist and hovering above him. 

Trevor tilts his chin up and purses his lips.

Honey covers his mouth with her palm, effectively forcing him to kiss her palm, and glares at Trevor through narrowed eyes. She leans in close, making it almost impossible for Trevor to maintain eye contact. 

“Do not fucking text me while I’m at work,” Honey says. “I mean it.”

She swings her legs to one side of his body, clambering off the bed and returning to the door. With one last look, Honey slips through the little crack of the door and shuts it behind her. Trevor hears her walking down the hall, then down the stairs. 

He throws his head back against his pillow and covers his eyes with the bend of his elbow. 

It takes him a few more minutes to catch his breath and move again. He washes his hands and goes to take a leak, replacing his boxers and shorts. He pulls a sweatshirt over his head, his favorite pink hoodie. He ties the strings into a cute little bow and leaves the hood over his hair, covering the mess beneath it that is, quite frankly, none of his business. 

He just came in Honey’s mouth for a second time in a week– his hair is the least of his worries. It’s not even a worry at all. In fact, Trevor might never have another worry again.

When Trevor makes his way downstairs, he finds Honey in his line of vision immediately. She’s standing next to Luke as he lines up a shot, hoping to sink the maroon seven into the third pocket. Trevor only knows which pocket is which because Jack tried to show Quinn up last year with his technical billiards knowledge, considering he couldn’t beat Quinn until halfway through the summer.

Honey’s eyes are drawn to Trevor’s movement, away from Luke’s long fingers creating a good base for his shot. Almost unconsciously, her eyes are flooded with pride and the edge of a smile quirks her mouth before she looks away, focusing back on the pool game.

Luke takes his shot, but the ball bounces off the cushion next to the pocket. He groans, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe under his eyes. Honey pats his arm as he paces past her, evidently frustrated by his game. 

Trevor looks to the table and finds that Honey only has a couple of striped targets left, while Luke has to sink four more shots if he wants to catch up to Honey. Having played against Honey before, Trevor is not confident in Luke’s ability. 

When he looks to the leaderboard, Honey’s name is starred. She hasn’t played as many games as the other boys, but she’s undefeated. She’s beaten everyone except Bea, but it’s a no-brainer about who would win that fight. 

Trevor spares one last glance at Honey before spilling across the loveseat. He lays for a minute, then turns over and gets comfortable. He pulls one hand up next to his head, using it as a pillow, and pulls his legs up toward his chest. He evaluates the room.

Quinn and Bea are sat in the plush recliner chair, sharing the small space. Bea has her legs thrown over Quinn’s lap, halfway seated on the arm of the chair. Quinn’s hand rests on Bea’s thigh, keeping her in place. She’s kissing over his neck and nuzzling into his side, letting her hands roam over his torso. Quinn catches Trevor watching them and fixes him with a hard stare, expression mostly unreadable. He’s mastered the art of the pokerface, but Trevor knows him well enough to know that his look is a warning. 

Jack and Cole are standing up from the couch, Wii controllers in hand and pushing each other over to try and get Player 1. Both younger siblings, Trevor snorts at their stubborn desire to be in charge for once. They found the Wii yesterday while Trevor was out, tucked away in the closet where he received his first blowjob from Honey, on one of the highest shelves.

Cole immediately dug it out and went searching for games. So far, he’s only found Wii Sports, but that’s all they really need. Last night, Cole and Jack had boxed, and things had gotten so heated that Quinn had to ban boxing from the house. He even hid the nunchucks that were necessary to play the sport– so the rest of the boys were straight out of luck.

They’re pulling up a game of golf right now, which causes Bea to roll her eyes. 

“You’re such boys,” she grumbles, lips pressed to Quinn’s cheek. “Golf is boring in real life. It’s even worse virtually. Can’t you play something good like bowling?”

Quinn chuckles a bit, pulling Bea closer. He wraps his arms around her waist and nips at her collarbone, causing the girl to shriek with a giggle. “I promise, if you come out on the course with me, I’ll teach you to like the game.”

Bea pushes him away, squirming on his lap until she finds a position where she’s comfortable. “You just want to get me in a little golf outfit so you can look at something pretty.”

“I will be looking at something pretty,” Quinn agrees. He leans in, pressing his forehead against hers and bumping their noses. He pecks her lips, brief and fleeting before he finishes his sentence. “The greens.”

Bea groans, tossing her head back. She goes to climb off of Quinn, but he holds her tightly on his lap and brings his mouth to her shoulder.

“Just imagine it,” he muses between kisses. “The smell of the freshly mown grass, the even blades, the sound of the club hitting the ball and the flag in the hole waving in the wind…”

“I can’t possibly think of a hole that you might be more interested in,” Bea deadpans, her bottom lip jutting out just a tad.

Quinn smiles, deciding to tug on Bea’s pouted lip with his teeth rather than deign her with an answer. 

Trevor watches the exchange in disgust. The disgust transforms when he hears Honey whoop and gloat from the back of the room, evidently still undefeated. His gaze on Bea and Quinn softens a little bit, tinged with envy. Oh, how sweet it would be if Honey was sitting on his lap the way Bea is sitting on Quinn’s. He’s so jealous that he has to look away.

“Update that board, Lukey,” Honey teases, her voice cutting through the rest of the chatter like the beacon of a lighthouse. 

Luke mimics her words, high-pitched and whiny the way only a younger sibling can sound, but reracks his cue and turns to the blackboard. He wipes Honey’s scores away with the dustrag that they repurposed into an eraser, then scrawls out a chicken-scratchy “6-0” next to her name. Next to his own, he erases the number of losses and replaces the number with one higher.

Honey beams at him, laying her stick along the table and walking around to gather all the balls from the pockets. She racks them up in a neat triangle, then leaves them immobile on the playing field. Honey joins the group, making herself comfortable on the corner cushion of the couch.

Luke plops down on the other end of the couch, closer to Trevor. Both pool players are studying the game on the screen with equal amounts of intensity, right thumbs pressed against their top lips and eyebrows drawn together in a tight pinch. 

Trevor pulls his phone out of his pocket, chuckling to himself and types out a message. 

“Look at Luke and Honey,” it reads.

Quinn pulls Bea’s phone out of his back pocket, glancing at the screen and making a face when he sees Trevor’s name flash across the screen. He eyes Trevor out of the side of his vision once Bea unlocks her phone and reads the message, tilting her screen so Quinn can see it. 

They both look over at Luke and Honey, eyes flickering between the two, and Bea giggles. She presses her hand to her mouth, but the damage is done. Quinn turns back to look at her, eyes shining as he admires the girl sitting on top of him. 

Trevor doesn’t know the details of his breakup, but he seems to be doing okay. Jack expected a whole lot worse, even briefed Trevor and Cole about the recent split during the drive down to Litchton, but none of them had expected to meet Bea and Honey.

It’s hard to be down in the dumps when there are people like them around.

Honey’s hand drops, dangling over the edge of the arm of the couch. “What?” She asks, apprehensive and skeptical. She glares at Bea, frown etched deeply on her face. There’s a little crease between her brows and Trevor itches to soothe it with a kiss. “What?” Honey repeats, looking around. 

Luke is unperturbed, sitting in the same position and watching Jack putt the virtual golf ball. He laughs out a breath when Jack misses, grinning against his thumb.

Honey seems to recognize the pose immediately, making a face at Bea when the girl giggles again. 

Quinn adjusts Bea on his lap, spreading his legs so there’s more room for her to sit in his arms. She’s practically cradled in his lap, legs no longer thrown over his lap but over the edge of the chair. 

Honey sticks her tongue out at Bea, then returns to the screen.

The sun has started to set by the time Jack and Cole’s game ends and they’re almost in complete darkness once Bea has beaten Honey in bowling. 

Trevor gets a kick out of seeing Honey lose– only because he’s never seen this side of her before. She’s competitive and she likes to win, so when she loses, she sulks the same way that Quinn does. Bea, to rub in her win, grabs Honey by her cheeks and plants a loud kiss on her nose. She overexaggerates a “mwah” and pinches Honey’s skin. Honey is blushing and pushing Bea away, wiping the kiss off of her nose. 

“You are such a sore winner,” Honey chastises, crossing her arms over her chest.

“At least I’m not a loo-hoo-za-her,” Bea replies, wiggling her finger in Honey’s face like Ace Ventura. She spins and beams at Quinn, crawling back onto his lap and pushing her fingers through his hair. 

Trevor isn’t sure that Quinn has told Bea that he’s getting a haircut before the Awards next week– or if he’s told her about the Awards at all. Trevor does know that Bea will be heartbroken when Quinn’s long hair is cropped back to a Catholic-school length and she can’t twirl the strands between her fingers as easily.

Honey blows a raspberry at Bea. She turns to walk toward the basement bathroom, evidently forgetting that it’s being occupied by Cole, and has to redirect upstairs.

Trevor misses her as soon as she disappears up the stairs and out of sight. 

Luke sets out to try and get a perfect score in bowling, but gets distracted making a Mii of himself. It takes far too long and Luke defends himself when Jack chirps him for trying to make his Mii’s body less like a stick than he actually is, which is when he rushes through the rest of his design to get to the game. He scores two strikes in a row, then restarts the game upon only hitting eight pins in his third frame.

He’s less successful the second time. And the third. On his fourth try, he gets a third strike in a row, but then loses momentum.

And Jack is getting antsy, itching to prove that he can do better.

He usurps the Wii, and Trevor realizes that Cole returned from the bathroom a few minutes ago, but Honey has not.

Trevor frowns. She can’t have gotten lost in the house since she’s been here enough times to know the layout and she’s certainly capable of going to the bathroom on her own. She should be back by now. He should go check on her.

“Anybody want a drink?” Trevor asks, rolling off the loveseat and catching himself before he hits the floor, straightening up. He stands still for only a moment before taking off towards the stairs, not allowing anyone to affirm or deny his request. He’s not bringing them drinks. He doesn’t care about that– all he wants is to go find Honey and see what’s taking her so long.

He scampers up the stairs, a baseball cap hitting him squarely in the back as he goes, probably a result of Cole wanting a drink and Trevor running away before he could say so. Trevor laughs a little as he goes and as soon as he makes it up to the kitchen, it’s evident where Honey has found herself.

The balcony door is cracked open and her back is to Trevor. She’s leaning over the rail, looking up towards the night sky. 

Trevor pauses, watching her.

Her hair falls freely over her shoulders, cascading down her back. It’s messy, windswept in a movie-star way. Her jean shorts are doing that gap thing again, showing off the dimples at the base of Honey’s spine and the tramp stamp– her mouth-watering tramp stamp– decorating her skin. Her hip is popped to one side and she looks good enough to eat.

She was right, too. Trevor has to make a very concentrated effort not to get hard while watching her bend over. 

He approaches the door and slides it open. “Hey,” Trevor says softly. “What are you doing out here?”

Honey jumps at the sound of him, but she calms down and returns to her original position in an instant. “You’ve got a lovely view out here.”

Trevor sidles up next to her, bumping her hip with his own before settling in. He looks up to the sky. 

Honey swallows, clearing her throat. “Do you get to see the stars like this in California?”

Trevor’s heart flutters with the question. She’s asking me about myself. She’s asking me about California. She cares. “I live outside of LA,” he explains. “So there’s a lot of light pollution. The stars are harder to come by.”

“Oh,” Honey says, sounding disappointed. 

“Which is why this is so nice,” Trevor adds. “Up here, you can see everything. I’ve been learning the constellations because of that book. It’s really cool.”

“What got you interested in space?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of like hockey for me. I always loved it.” Trevor shrugs. “When I went to Boston for college, I was an astronomy major, but I went to the NHL before I got to take any of the really cool classes.”

“So that’s why you’ve been looking for books.” Honey looks at Trevor for a moment, locking eyes with him for a split second, then she turns back to the sky. 

It’s dark, but her face is lit up by the moon and the stars are reflecting in her eyes. They’re dimmer than normal due to the clouds rolling in from the west, dark and threatening. They seem far away. A strand of hair falls into her face, distracting Trevor, and his fingers twitch with the desire to sweep it back behind her ear, but Honey gets to it first. 

Trevor looks up. “I think some of it has to do with all the Greek myths attached to the constellations, too,” he murmurs. “I think it’s really cool that the Ancient Greeks were able to see all of their stories in the stars. Plus, I’m Greek, so I guess I feel connected.”

Honey hums, considering his words. 

They fall into an easy silence for a while, surveying the sky. Every so often, Trevor watches Honey from his peripheral. He catches her looking at him twice, and both times, they each blush and look away.

Trevor fixes on one of his favorite constellations– Cygnus, partially covered by a sprinkling of smaller rainclouds. It’s on his list of favorites because it took him so long to find and he’s proud that he was able to do so. Cygnus depicts a swan, who represents Zeus. He reaches his finger out and tries to point the constellation out to Honey.

“See there? That bright star separate from the others?” Trevor asks, pointing at the twinkle of light.

Honey furrows her brow and tilts her head, trying to line Trevor’s finger up with the star he’s pointing at. “No,” she replies. 

“Here.” Trevor stands behind Honey, bringing his hand up and pointing so that she can look down his arm like a scope. Honey leans against his arm, one of her eyes squeezed shut. “There’s Deneb, which is the tail. It’s so bright because it has the power of more than sixty thousand suns. Isn’t that cool?” He drags his finger across the sky to another two major stars in the constellation, spreading his fingers in a peace sign to point them both out at once. “And there’s Xi and Albireo. Albireo is the swan’s beak and if I had a telescope, I’d be able to show you that it’s actually a star that glows blue and yellow.” Trevor unfolds his palm and sweeps it across the sky, drawing the path of Cygnus’s wings. “And those little stars are the swan’s wings. He’s flying across the sky for all eternity. I think that’s really cool.”

Trevor stands, proud of himself, admiring the constellation and his explanation. It takes him a moment to realize that Honey has turned in front of him. 

When he does, he only has a second to take her in. That second of time suspends when his eyes meet hers. He can feel her breath puffing against his lips. Her back is pressed against the railing and Trevor is so close to her that he can feel her heat radiating outward and reaching for him. Honey’s eyes are big and wide, thoughtful.

Then she leans in and kisses Trevor.

Her lips are soft, just like they were when he kissed her in the closet. She tastes sweet, but not like any food Trevor has ever tasted before. He can’t pinpoint it– it’s just Honey.

Trevor barely registers Honey’s hands sliding into his hair, curling the strands around her fingers. He’s too busy reaching for her waist and pulling her close. Her skin is burning under his fingers and Trevor slides his right hand around to her back, resting his palm against the tattoo he discovered just earlier today. 

When Honey’s hips press against his, her torso brushing against his, Trevor allows his left hand to rise. He brushes over her collarbone, then up to her jaw. 

Honey’s fingers tug on his hair and Trevor groans, which is when she licks over his bottom lip and into his mouth.

And he thought he was giving his all to avoid a boner before. That effort is nothing compared to this one.

One of Honey’s hands leaves Trevor’s hair, finding his chest. She presses her palm against his shirt, between his pecs, and Trevor is sure that she can feel his heart pounding. All the while, she’s kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

Trevor crowds into her space more at that thought, taking charge of the kiss. His hand slips from her jaw, resting at the base of Honey’s neck.

And in a beautiful turn of events, she whimpers.

Trevor could bottle the sound up and put it in a safe for the rest of time. The breathy sigh only spurs him on and suddenly his teeth are clinking against hers with the ferocity of his movements. Like an electric shock, Honey breaks the kiss.

Trevor wishes he could take a picture of her.

Her cheeks are flushed and her gaze is a little foggy, focused on his lips until she blinks the confusion away. She sucks in a breath when she looks up at Trevor and her lips are plump, still parted like they’re seeking his own. 

Trevor stands still, not even daring to let out a breath lest it scares her away. He watches her expression go from dreamy to concentrated, and he’s ready to step away, but her fingers clench in his hair and she pulls him back in.

The kiss is not sweet by any means. Honey pulls Trevor’s hand back to her throat, then her hands pull at the fabric of his shirt. She tugs him close, making an indignant keen when he’s slow to move. Trevor is stunned, but the noise snaps him out of it. Her fingers are impatient, tapping against his sides, and Trevor springs forward. 

His hand caresses the column of her neck, feeling all of her little noises rise up and vibrate through her vocal chords. His other hand dips lower, under the gap her jean shorts created. His fingertips dip under the lavender band of her underwear, but they stop there, just teasing her. Honey rolls her hips against Trevor’s cock, totally not erect at all, obviously, and they break apart again.

Honey looks much more surprised this time, caught off guard by her own actions. She pushes Trevor away and he stumbles back, putting enough space between them that Honey can cover her lips with her hand. She feels over the pink skin, her hand shaking.

Trevor can still feel the ghost of the kiss and he expects Honey is feeling the same thing. 

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t interrupt whatever is going through her head. He can’t– he won’t give her any more reason to run away. He knows that’s what’s coming next.

Honey’s mouth is wide open. Her chest is heaving and she’s staring at Trevor. 

Trevor starts to worry when her silence stretches a moment too long. “Do you want me to get Bea?” He asks.

Honey snaps her mouth shut, swallowing the lump in her throat and shaking her head vehemently. “I need to go home.” Like her hands, her voice is shaking.

“Okay,” Trevor says. He’s not sure what else he can say.

Honey steps toward the sliding door, then halts in her tracks. “Bea drove me,” she realizes aloud, eyes widening in panic.

“I’ll drive you,” Trevor says, the words falling from his lips like an avalanche. “I’ll say you got sick. I’ll drive you home right now and I promise I won’t try anything, I swear–”

Honey cuts him off with a nod, meeting Trevor’s eyes for just a second before she looks away and starting blinking more rapidly. She looks like she’s fighting something internally, lost but panicked but ashamed that she’s acting this way, and Trevor just grabs her hand. 

He leads her inside, closing the sliding door behind them and beelining for the front door. He grabs his keys and presses them against Honey’s palm. “Go start the car for me, okay?” He says, talking quietly. He holds Honey’s shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers. She closes her eyes and leans against him. “I’m gonna go tell everyone that you threw up, or something, and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Honey agrees, whispering the word out. Trevor opens the front door for her, keeping a hand on her until she’s across the threshold. He leaves the door open and bounds downstairs.

“Hey,” Trevor calls, catching the attention of everyone in the basement. Jack gripes a bit, missing a strike because of Trevor’s call, but Trevor cuts him off. “Honey’s sick. I’m taking her home.”

Bea’s head pops up from where it was snuggled under Quinn’s chin. She bumps into his head by accident, petting over the point of contact as an apology while she turns to Trevor. “What? Is she okay?”

Trevor waves her off. “She’s fine. She doesn’t want to cause a big deal. She said it might be something she ate.”

Bea scowls. “I told her not to eat that turkey we found in the fridge at work,” she says. “I knew it had gone bad. Poor Honey.”

“She’ll be fine,” Trevor assures the girl, waving her off when she starts to stand up from Quinn’s chair. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Bea looks hesitant, but Quinn’s hand on her hip seems to convince her to stay. “Okay, fine,” Bea says eventually. “But be careful, okay? It’s supposed to storm tonight. You’re not used to the mountains in the rain. The roads get bad.”

“If it gets bad, I’ll convince Honey to let me borrow her couch,” Trevor says. “I’ll text you when we get there.”

Quinn pulls Bea back down onto his lap, kissing her temple and rubbing her waist comfortingly. “They’ll be fine, baby. Honey’s a big girl.”

“I’m more worried about Trevor,” Bea grumbles in reply, barely audible. “The curves are slippery.”

“He’ll be fine,” Quinn repeats. He looks at Trevor, glaring at the boy, before opening his mouth to boss him around yet again. “Don’t be fucking stupid on the roads.”

Trevor flashes a thumbs-up in Quinn’s direction, then hurries back up the stairs. It’s starting to drizzle already– he can see the sparse raindrops falling towards the ground. They’re lit up by the lights of his car, already up and running. 

Honey is curled up in the passenger seat, her fingers clutching the collar of her shirt and tucked under her chin. She’s looking out the window at the rain and doesn’t acknowledge Trevor when he joins her in the car. 

He drives home carefully, having to turn the windshield wipers up as the rain grows harder. Honey directs him in hushed tones, her voice monotone. Trevor wants to reach over and take her hand. He wants to distract her from whatever is going through her mind. He doesn’t– it’s not his place. 

“Pull in here,” Honey mutters, pointing toward an overgrown driveway marked by a painted-floral mailbox. It looks like a child had painted it and Trevor spots a flower made of little thumbprints on the front flap as he turns in. He creeps down the driveway, approaching the dark house.

He throws the car into park, then gets out of the car. He walks around in the rain, shrugging his sweatshirt off as he does so. He opens Honey’s door and unbuckles her seatbelt, putting the hood of his sweatshirt over her head to protect her hair from the drops. 

Trevor leads her by the hand to her front door, which Honey opens easily. She left it unlocked. Trevor feels taken aback for a moment, but then he remembers that she’s been living in Litchton for five years and there’s barely any crime in town. She’s fine. She probably knows better than Trevor does, anyway.

He stands awkwardly in her doorway, watching Honey navigate the space with memorized ease. Her footsteps are light. She disappears up into the lofted area above her living room, which is just as eclectic and unique as she is. He takes in the knick-knacks and the lived-in space. The blanket on her couch is thrown over the back haphazardly. He can see into her backyard, the big windows on the back side of her house taking up almost the whole wall. 

The house is dark, but it lights up with a flash of lightning. The house shakes with a crash of thunder. Trevor looks outside again and realizes he can barely see to his car, parked maybe twenty yards from Honey’s door. 

He sends a quick text to Bea, letting her know that he just got to Honey’s safely and that he’s going to hang out for a little while before the storm dies down. 

Trevor walks over to Honey’s kitchen, making sure he shut and locked the front door behind him. He finds a peach in a bowl on her counter and a knife in one of her drawers. Trevor washes the peach and cuts it into cubes, plating them. He searches for a glass and fills it with water, then takes both the plate and the cup in his hands.

Trevor climbs up to the loft, moving quietly and slowly so he doesn’t disturb Honey.

She’s curled up in her bed, just a little lump under the covers. It’s dark in her bedroom, but Trevor can see her eyes glinting. Her face lights up with another flash of lightning and he wants to break at the sight of the tears lining her face. 

“Honey,” Trevor breathes out, placing the plate and cup on her bedside table. He rounds the bed, kneeling on the other side and reaching out to touch her face. He wipes away one of the tears streaking her cheeks. 

Honey whines, squeezing her eyes shut and turning to hide her face in her pillow.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Trevor says. “I didn’t mean to.”

Honey groans, lifting her head to fix him with one big stink-eye. “You didn’t do anything,” she glowers. “I’m the one who kissed you.”

“Yeah, but I–”

“No, you didn’t.” Honey drags herself into a seated position, pulling her hair out of her face. She wipes her eyes and sniffs, looking miserable. “I’m just… working through everything.”

Trevor pauses, watching her. He feels absolutely helpless, unable to do or say anything that could make her feel better. “I brought you food and water,” Trevor says, feeling lame. “You should make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

Honey’s in the middle of wiping her eyes again as he says it, and Trevor panics when her shoulders start to shake again and a fresh batch of tears leak from her eyes. He moves back from the bed, eyes wide. Maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t said anything at all. Now Honey’s crying because of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Honey tells him, her voice thick with tears, hiccuping. “You are so fucking insufferable,” she continues, and Trevor realizes that her shoulders are shaking with laughter even as she cries. 

His mouth forms an ‘o’ and Trevor looks around, afraid to look at Honey for too long lest she start bawling again.

“Just–” Honey cuts herself off. “Can you–”

“Anything,” Trevor agrees immediately, interrupting her.

Honey presses her lips together, letting the words form in her mouth. She seems to consider not saying them at all, but she eventually continues. She’s sheepish when she looks at Trevor, small and caved in on herself. “Can you lay with me?” The words are resigned when they leave her mouth, her eyes miserable.

Trevor scrambles onto the bed and has her in his arms before she can finish the sentence, all of the breath knocked out of his lungs with relief. He can do that easily– he wants to do that for Honey. He holds her against his chest, tucking her head into the curve of his neck. She’s sniffling again against his skin, marking his neck with wet tears. Thunder crashes outside again, and Trevor just holds her as tightly as he can.

She shakes for a little while, crying silently. Trevor coos at her and wipes her tears away, kissing her temple and rubbing her back in what he hopes are soothing motions. Eventually, her breath evens and her tears dry up, but she stays curled up in Trevor’s arms. 

When she calms down, Trevor starts to feel awkward again. She’s just laying there in his arms and he’s sitting on her bed, not really sure what he’s supposed to do. 

“You should sleep,” Trevor decides. He’s speaking softly, prompting Honey like the gentle nudge of a finger pointing her in the right direction. “The storm has died down, so I’ll head back–”

Honey frowns against his neck, pushing away from his chest to look up at him. “Stay with me,” she pouts. 

Trevor is helpless to say no.

They maneuver themselves down to lay on the bed, and Honey presses against Trevor. She bundles a hand in his t-shirt, throwing the other over his waist. She hides her face in his chest and Trevor hopes that she can’t hear his heart racing, punching against his ribs in harsh beats, even though he knows that she can hear that and more, like the rumbling of his stomach. 

She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She falls asleep, one last tear falling across her cheek as her face finally relaxes.

Trevor wipes it away and pulls her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. He doesn’t know what happened to Honey in Charlotte, what made her swear off dating, but he’s determined to find out. He’s going to do everything he can to reassure her and keep her safe. He never wants to see her like this again. 

Trevor’s last thought before he falls into his own restless sleep is, God, I hope I don’t ruin this by waking up hard in the morning.

28:90 – HONEY

It was inevitable. Honey should’ve expected it. Trevor’s dick is hard, nestled against her ass, and he’s holding her there. He’s still asleep, breathing evenly on Honey’s neck with his nose nuzzled behind her ear. 

He snores. It woke her up.

An hour ago.

She doesn’t have it in her to wake him up. Trevor was so sweet last night, trying so hard to do everything right. He cut her peaches up into cubes and poured her a glass of ice water while she expected him to walk right out the door and leave her alone. He held her while she cried and his stupid face, his dumbfounded and panicked expression, made her laugh through the tears.

He handled it well and Honey slept soundly in his arms. She was okay. She’s calmer now, more steady on her feet than she’s ever been after Bea talks her down from a freakout. 

Trevor’s arms are strong around her, affording her very little wiggle room. About twenty minutes ago, Trevor’s hand had shifted to graze her boob, tickling Honey with his movements. Unconsciously, when she leaned back against him, his hand found the curve of her breast and cupped the weight in his palm. 

Honey is surprised Trevor was able to sleep through her giggles. 

His hand is still holding her chest, occasionally squeezing the flesh through her shirt. It’s a comfortable weight now and Honey finds it too endearing to push him away. She also understands the comfort that comes with holding a boob– whenever she finds herself watching TV and lazing around on her sofa, she catches herself with one of her hands on the slope of her chest. It never fails to make her laugh at herself. She really is no better than a man.

Trevor’s finally stirring, though, so Honey has to push his hand away. His wrist ends up curving over her hip, leaving his hand to dangle near the hem of her shorts. His other hand is nice and snug against the curve of her waist, trapped between her body and the bed. Trevor sighs, his voice deep and thick with sleep, snuggling against Honey with a smack of his lips and a yawn before he realizes that he’s not alone, nor is he in his bed at the rental house.

He twitches, pulling himself away from the drowsiness that was threatening to overtake him again. He scrambles back, putting distance between himself and Honey. When Honey turns to face him, mourning the loss of the warm body against her back, Trevor’s eyes are wide and his lips are pulled back in a grimace. He’s watching Honey like he’s afraid of her next move.

She lays facing him and puts her arm under her head, using the curve of her elbow as an extra cushion. She tries to keep her expression neutral. She licks her lips, then reaches her other hand over and tugs Trevor’s shirt. 

He’s stupid, so he doesn’t get it. Trevor stays frozen, way too much distance between his body and Honey’s for what she wants to say. 

Persistently, Honey tugs again at the hem of his shirt. When he still doesn’t move, she rolls her eyes and sits up, scooting over. If Trevor moves any farther back, he’ll fall off the bed. Luckily, he seems to realize that and he stares up at Honey, lips parted. If she weren’t so sure he was freaking out about overstepping and staying in her bed after she calmed down, Honey would think that the look in his eyes might be something akin to awe.

With a huff, Honey lays back down and intertwines her legs with Trevor’s, keeping a hand on his waist. She drops his shirt, but rests her palm on the waistband of his shorts, thumbing over the bare skin above the fabric. 

Trevor shivers and his eyelids flutter a bit. 

Honey wants to laugh. She does, but now is not the time. He’s just so easy. 

“About six months before I moved to Litchton, my high school boyfriend and I broke up,” Honey says quietly. “We had been dating for almost two years and things were great until they weren’t.”

Trevor closes his mouth, watching Honey. His hand, hesitating in the air, comes to rest on her cheek. He pushes her hair over her shoulder and catches one of her waves between his fingers, feeling it out.

“He wanted to go to college. I didn’t. He wanted to make the most of the end of senior year and I wasn’t as into the party scene as he was. I had Bea, who gets invited everywhere by her adoring gaggle of fans, as you well know,” Honey continues, crinkling her nose and nudging it against Trevor’s in a teasing manner. “But there was still that distance growing between me and Thomas.”

“What happened?” Trevor asks, brows furrowed in concern. 

“He started doing drugs,” Honey explains with a shrug. “Speed, mostly, but a lot of acid in between trips. He liked the high of those things more than he liked me.” She looks down. “The first time he mentioned reaching into a pill bowl, I broke up with him.”

Trevor’s hand soothes Honey, running over her cheek. His thumb barely grazes her skin, just there enough that Honey can feel her peach fuzz moving with his fingerprint. He’s paying attention to her, staring at her like she’s the only person who has ever walked the face of the Earth. Honey wants to blush, wants to cover her face with an embarrassed hand, all too aware of the way Trevor is taking her in and admiring her. It’s scary, the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way Thomas looked at her before everything turned to shit.

Honey looks away. She stares at the logo branded on Trevor’s t-shirt, tracing the line of the design with her fingernail. He draws a breath in when she scrapes over his nipple, making her smile.

“He didn’t take it well,” Honey continues. “Why would he, you know? He couldn’t handle losing all of this.” She gestures down at her body, watching Trevor’s eyes follow her hands. His eyes, unlike Thomas’s, make their way back up to her face. She starts to feel hot tears prickle in the corner of her eyes, but Honey shakes them away. “And I wouldn’t tolerate his behavior. He just wanted someone who would sit idly by as he ruined his life.”

Trevor hums, pulling her closer. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then closes his eyes as he leans against her. Honey brings her hand up between them and runs her finger down the curve of his nose.

“He thought that revenge was the best course of action,” Honey says delicately, smiling ruefully at the memory. It still affects her, even now, although Thomas hasn’t occupied her mind in a substantial way in years. She feels a little silly, gearing up to say what comes next, even though she knows it’s not her fault. She’s not to blame. It’s a shame it still affects her so much, five years later.

“He…” Honey clenches her teeth, cringing in a long pause. “Took things that I shared with him in confidence,” she decides on, her voice shaking not with sadness, but with anger. “And he sent them out to my entire class. They sent them out to other people in the city and they sent them to… explicit websites, not caring that I was underage at the time.” 

Trevor lets out a breath, his grip tightening around Honey’s body. He buries his face in her hair, squeezing her.

“So, I dropped it all. I dropped him, I dropped my other friends, I dropped the whole city of Charlotte and I left. My parents were great– they paid for a lawsuit and got all the pictures taken down from those websites. They finally accepted that I wanted to move here full time and my dad offered the house. I had to pay, yeah, but I had somewhere to live. Eventually, I stopped talking to them, but I wasn’t alone–”

“You had Bea,” Trevor completes the sentence for her, sounding equally as sad as Honey. Trevor tilts Honey’s chin up, capturing her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss. 

Honey needed that.

When he pulls away, Trevor takes a breath. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Honey replies. “I’ve had five years to process it. Sometimes it’s hard for me, and I'll freak out, but I want to keep doing the… things… that we’ve been doing. I just can't have everyone knowing– it makes me feel like there's pressure to be okay and have everything seem 'perfect' all the time.”

“You do?” Trevor asks, biting his bottom lip. His eyes rake over Honey’s features, then he brings his lips down in front of hers. Honey can feel the little puffs of breath leaving his mouth, his bottom lip sliding against hers in something less than a kiss when he lifts his chin. "You know I'll do whatever you want, Honey. Secret or not, we should absolutely keep doing the things we've been doing."

“Don’t get too excited,” Honey says, pushing against Trevor’s chest. She smiles, lips pulled tight over her teeth. “I let you sleep way too long. I have to go to church with Ada in thirty minutes and I still have to shower.”

Honey tears herself away from Trevor, dragging herself out of bed. 

Trevor leans up on the back of his elbows, his hair still messy with sleep. “Do you want me to join you?”

Honey scoffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Absolutely not. I’ll take you home before the service. You can shower there.”

“Mmm,” Trevor hums. “Bea can bring me some church clothes.”

Honey lets out a little laugh, exasperated by his determination to see her naked. “You’re coming to church with me?” She asks, stepping through her conjoined bathroom door and reaching for the spout of her shower. She turns the knob, watching the water from the showerhead spurt to life and start to warm up. “I should warn you, I’m not a big believer. I kind of lost all that after… well. Now, you know.”

“I’m not a huge believer either,” Trevor says. “I only join Bea at church when I think I’ll see you. All one time so far.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” Honey laughs, sarcasm twisting her tone. She realizes that it was the wrong response when Trevor lets out a cackle, still bundled up under her bedsheets. 

“You would know,” he teases. “After all, you’re the one who’s tasted me… twice.”

Honey stares at herself in her bathroom mirror, unimpressed. “What the fuck are we doing?” she mouths at her reflection, throwing her hands up. She smooths her hair back, pulling it into a ponytail before letting it loose and shaking her hair. A smile takes over her face until she ducks her head, burying her head in her hands. 

“I’m not going to give you the privilege of a response,” Honey calls, turning and reaching her hand under the water to check the temperature. Steam is starting to rise toward the ceiling, and the water is warming up by the second, so she sheds her shirt and shorts, leaving her in just her underwear. 

Not taking the chance, or the distraction, Honey closes her bathroom door and locks it. 

Trevor knocks soon after the lock clicks, calling for Honey to let him in. Honey just laughs, loud enough that he can hear it, and hops in the shower.

She takes all of fifteen minutes to shower and get ready, leaving them with plenty of time to make it to the church along the main road. Trevor has to wear the same clothes as the night before, while Honey has changed into a flowery skirt and a white bodysuit. She looks much more put together than Trevor, who insists on hiding out in the car once they park in the church parking lot until Bea smuggles some clothes through his driver’s side window. Trevor changes in the backseat, hoping that the tinted windows are enough to cover him up (they’re not– Cole looked through the back window and affirmed that he could see Trevor’s dick… “and balls”). 

Instead of hanging around with the group, Honey walks into the church and finds Ada. She stands in the pew next to her elderly boss, holding Ada’s hand in her right and the hymnal in the other. 

Just before the usher approaches the podium to greet the congregation, Ada whispers to Honey: “Did you help that young man feel better after your poor behavior on Thursday?”

Honey wishes she could throw her head back and laugh aloud. She smirks, throwing a look over her shoulder and catching Trevor fiddle with his tie. Bea notices him loosening it and reaches over to tighten the knot, causing Trevor to faux-gag in the girl’s face. Honey looks at his neat white button-up and his dark jeans, snug against his hips with a brown belt, and she bites her bottom lip. Trevor catches her eyes and grins.

Honey looks back at Ada. “Yes ma’am,” she says, a little smug. “I would say that he definitely feels better now.”

[myonos]

diner girl

heeseung x f!reader genre: fluff strangers to lovers

wc 576 warnings: pov changes, light cursing

heeseung remembers the day he saw you for the first time

his friend jay had found a new diner in town and said it was amazing

so the whole friend group decided to go

when he walked in the first thing he remembered was the smell, it smelled like good food

then he saw you

and you were beautiful

the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen

he must’ve been staring at you for awhile because his friends had to smack the back of his head to get him out of his trance

they sat at a table and he made sure to have a clear view of you

his friends noticed very quickly

then came the teasing

“ooo heeseung’s in love”

“man sees one girl and goes crazy”

but he can’t help it

heeseung starts coming there almost everyday to see you

he somehow manages to figure out your schedule

he knows it’s weird but he’s enchanted by you

he thinks you don’t notice but you do

he immediately caught your attention when he came in

you were staring at him when he wasn’t staring at you 😭

you noticed how he started showing up everyday that you worked

some might find it weird but you found it sweet

you figured if he didn’t make a move soon you would

but at the same time

you’re a pussy

and the thought of talking to him makes your insides churn

he’s so fine

how can you approach him without looking stupid??

maybe you’ll write your number on a napkin?

but what if he doesn’t see it and just throws it away?

you could give him his order on the house to let him know you’re interested?

that sounds like a great idea

and now you’re walking up to him with his order

and his heart is beating out of his chest

because omg omg you’re so beautiful even more so up close

and then you say “this orders on the house.”

you send him a wink as you walk away

and he just stares

and stares

and stares

because did that just really happen???!!

the inside of his head is like £~£~*}++]¥&;&;&/$;&¥\\¥~¥>•\£@:@;

he’s malfunctioning

while you’re crying on the inside because

what’ if you just embarrassed the shit out of yourself

what if he was staring cause he thought you were ugly????

now you’re rethinking your entire life

about 30 minutes pass

you’re facing away from him

and unknown to you

he walks up to you at the counter

and clears his throat awkwardly

you’re expecting another customer, not him

and your eyes widen, COMICALLY

like are we in a tv show??

“i just wanted to thank you for the order. i’ve been coming here for the past couple of days thinking about how i was gonna make a move on you but i was nervous. i had to pluck up a lot of courage to come up here but i feel like i should take the chance. so, can i have your number?”

and you’re ecstatic

the smile on your face grows, showing your beautiful teeth

(yes even your teeth are beautiful)

“i’d love to give you my number, i’m y/n”

“heeseung”

you write your number down on a piece of paper handing it over eagerly

“i’ll text you” he says before leaving the diner

and now you’re thinking about him for the rest of your shift

#newmansecured

hiiii another headcannon this time with heeseung ! i love diners so this thought came to mind

permanent taglist: @escapetheash @vatterie @kaexox

[thafunkyrca]

The Stressed Feeder and Overfed Himbo:

Back in my first retail job, things were pretty chill and not as serious at this job so we always had a lot of free time to do fun bonding activities inside and outside of work. A few other coworkers and myself were invited to come over for a movie night! insisted that all snacks, foods and drinks would be handled through her as she just loved being host for events like this. I love hanging out with friends and coworkers, even if it’s just for a movie I just like to be around people and have a good time. Day of the party, I was running pretty late per usual and expecting to get there to a bunch of people couch watching movies or playing games. To my surprise, I pull up to her house and everything just looks dark and empty. No cars parked, no porch light on, just nothing. I walk up to the door thinking there’ll be a few people around. My coworker/the host opens the door and greets me very excitedly! To my surprise, there is no one here. And behind her being excited, I can tell she’s stressed and a little sad. But I was happy to be there and cheer her up. Walk in the kitchen to a table of brownies, soft pretzels and pizza! And of course I was ready to dig in. Couple hours go by, we’re playing switch games. I can tell her mood is shifting so I ask “is everything okay?” She responds that I’ve hardly touched any of the food she made. And I can tell she worked hard getting all the food out together, so I went for some more hoping to cheer her up. Each time I got up for a plate, nothing but warm smiles from her. By the time I was heading for third plate, my belly was already full. And I didn’t think I could eat another bite. “Do you even like the brownies? Please eat a little bit more, I made em from scratch.” And how could I resist, they were so warm, rich and delicious, I also just couldn’t bare to break her heart. So I added 3 brownie slices on my plate and dug in. Then after a round of Mario Kart, she got up and made me another plate with a few soft pretzels on it. “I just hate that no one got to try my food but I’m so glad you’re enjoying it all.” I look at her with a whimpering smile as I feel like I’m going to burst. At this point , I’m not even tasting the food. I’m just chewing and swallowing, that’s the easiest way it can all get down. By the time she handed me another plate of soft pretzels, I began to feel my stomach churn. I had to come forward with her. The food was so fucking delicious but I could have another bite, it’s time to let her know and go home. “Hey Eliza, I’m getting a bit fu….” I’m silenced by a slice of brownie that had gotten shoved into my mouth. Looking into her eyes, she didn’t give a shit what I was feeling. After one more big slice shoved in my mouth, she finally spoke. “I worked too damn hard all day making all this fucking food from scratch. So everyone can have a good and fun time. Just for those backstabbers to not even come and fuck me over. But you…you were so kind enough to stay and spend time with me, and clearly you enjoy my cooking. So I’m gonna make sure you finish every last crumb of my cooking. There will be no leftovers, and I’ll brag to those assholes about all the fun that they missed.” At this point, I’m a little scared…but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t turned on in the slightest. And again, her cooking was quite phenomenal. She sat me down at the counter and kept bringing me plate after plate. I begin to feel a bit drowsy and woozy. Chocolate crumbs, pizza sauce and pretzel salt all dripping down my lips. We looked at the clock and it was midnight. “You’re gonna have to start heading home now!” She grabs both my hands and I began to waddle to the door, belly dangling and all. But she didn’t care. As we got to the door she gave me a kiss on the forehead. Instantly melted all over, especially in my trousers. “Thank you for coming over, we’ll have our own movie night again soon!” She smirked, took a look at my overstuffed belly and tickled it with both her hands. Wish I could say I giggled but it didn’t do anything but let out a big burp. She chuckled and closed the door on me.

[venus-haze]

I’ll Keep a Light in My Window (Starlight x Reader)

Summary: After her Believe Expo speech, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on Annie. Among the messages flooding her Instagram DMs is an encouraging one from you, an old friend from her Capes for Christ days. The two of you reconnect, and Annie finds more than friendship with you this time around.

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is my first Starlight fic! I hope I did her justice since this is mostly from her perspective. Inspired by the song from The Get Down because it’s so Annie. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: This is pretty much fluff with some angst, related to canon events and mentions of homophobia in the context of American Christianity. Obviously playing with the plot of S1 for this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Despite the crowd’s chaos in response to her speech, Annie felt her smile falter when she got backstage and was met with varying degrees of rage and disgust. Her own mother looked like she’d spent the past five minutes sucking on sour candy. 

‘Hello!’ Annie wanted to shout. ‘Did you see what I did out there? Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?’

Hughie had disappeared after meeting Ezekiel. She tried to pretend that him not even saying goodbye didn’t bother her. If she could get up on stage and bare her soul to thousands of people in person and millions at home, at the very least she could admit to herself that she was hurt. 

The drive back to the tower was tense. Everyone seemed to avoid making eye contact with her. As if she’d done something wrong. The longer she sat with what she said and did, the more she was convinced she made the right choice. Between what The Deep had done to her and how she was treated after saving a girl from suffering the same fate, they were just mad she called them on her complacency. 

As soon as she made it back to her suite, she pulled out her phone to find her Instagram had blown up even more than when she first joined The Seven. Her phone nearly crashed from the amount of notifications she had. Thousands of comments and messages, either rants or support. She scrolled through her clogged DMs, her stomach churning at the glimpses of abuse that piled on from irate strangers. One DM caught her attention, addressing her by her real name rather than Starlight. 

Hesitantly, she tapped the message to see the full contents.

‘Holy shit Annie!! You’re so badass🤩 Our Capes for Christ counselors must be shitting themselves right now lmao way to go!’

There were a lot of people from her Capes for Christ days, a constant rotation of hopeful young superheroes ready to use their powers for the glory of the Lord. Looking back, it was just a self-righteous vanity project for their parents and whatever religious sycophants hovered around. She tapped your photo, bringing her to your profile. Your brief bio gave your first name and that you were living in the city, but your supe name was nowhere to be found. 

She tapped your most recent photo. In a brightly lit hospital hallway, you posed in black scrubs with a handful of balloons. You’d posted it just a week earlier, the caption celebrating working as a nurse for three years. Most of the comments were congratulating you, but one comment finally jogged her memory.

‘might be thinking of someone else but were you red heart?’ someone commented.

You replied with, ‘Yeah I was a million years ago! Lamest name ever😂😂’

Right. Red Heart. Healing powers. Red Cross spokesgirl. White top with a red skirt and sparkly red shoes that reminded her of the Wizard of Oz. You were on the Capes for Christ circuit with her. At one point she considered you a close friend, close enough to invite you to the roller skating party she begged her mom for when she was ten, only allowed to invite three girls because that’s all they could afford. Memories of skating to Britney Spears songs and balancing a paper plate with room temperature pizza on her lap came back to her. You’d bought her one of the special edition birthday Barbies. Her mom never let her take it out of the box, claiming it’d be worth a lot of money some day. It was probably still collecting dust in their attic.

She could remember you going off to college after high school, dropping your superhero identity not long after. With healing powers, it made sense you’d go into nursing. Her mom had expressed a judgemental disbelief at your decision. Annie wished she at least had a choice like you. 

She scrolled through more of your photos. You seemed to be doing well since you got out. Got out. Like it was a cult. Maybe in a way, it was. 

Annie hit the follow button on your profile and messaged you back.

‘Thanks Y/N! I made a lot of people mad, but I’m glad I did it 😊’ she hesitated a moment before typing, ‘We should catch up sometime! You're still in New York right? I’m pretty new to the city.’

Before she could get too in her own head about whether asking you to hang out was weird when the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, you responded with the names of a few coffee shops on the Upper East Side and that you were off work the following day. 

Her mood had tanked before meeting up with you, getting chewed out by Stilwell and feeling some guilt for Ashley losing her job. She had to remind herself it wasn’t her fault. If they hadn’t enabled a sex pest for years, she wouldn’t have had to make her speech. 

Following the directions on her phone and getting a bit turned around in the subway, she walked up to the coffee shop a few minutes after eleven, when the two of you had agreed to meet. She rushed inside when she noticed you were already sitting at a table with your drink. 

Annie sat down across from you with her coffee, playing with the cup sleeve. “I’m so glad you had time to hang out. I still don’t really know anyone here, and it’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Yeah! I'm not really in touch with a lot of people from back then, but I can totally introduce you to my friends. It’s an adjustment, but the city has a lot to offer if you know where to look.”

“Way more to do than Des Moines at least.”

“I can’t believe I nearly forgot,” you said, lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “congrats on getting into The Seven! Out of everyone in our weird ass group growing up, I always had a feeling it was gonna be you.”

“Thanks.” She gave you a strained smile. “It’s not exactly what I expected, but I’m making the best of it.”

“Sometimes that’s the most you can do,” you said.

“How about you? What part of the hospital do you work in?”

“With my powers, they have me all over the place, but it’s good. I can see I’m really making a difference.”

“That’s what I want. Sometimes I feel like they just parade me around to look nice, but they won’t let me do anything,” she said. “Like that stupid new costume. It’s like they make me wear it just to humiliate me for helping that girl because I didn’t do it their way. I feel like a joke.”

“Not after the Believe Expo. Anyone would be an idiot not to take you seriously now,” you said. “I mean, you said what so many people were thinking but were too afraid to say. It’s bullshit they’re treating you like this.”

“No, it’s—I’ll deal. We’re supposed to be catching up, and I’m like dumping all my problems on you. How have you been? Are you seeing anyone?” she asked. 

She wasn’t sure how she’d answer the question if you’d been the one to ask. Hughie could be so hot and cold, like he was hiding something. 

You were silent for a few moments before answering. “Not really. My girlfriend and I broke up a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great! I mean—not great that you broke up, I’m so sorry,” Annie said frantically. “Just you being—dating women. I’m happy for you.”

“That means a lot, Annie. I kind of parted ways with Vought because of it. I mean, they have this progressive face, but then they let Ezekiel spout his bullshit and put their name on that too?” you ranted. “That’s just me. It’s pretty much impossible to have a career as a supe without Vought, so I don’t judge.”

“Do you think I’m crazy for trying to change things from the inside?”

“It can’t hurt to try. Then at least you know you did what you could.”

She smiled. At least she could vent to someone who understood and actually gave a damn. Hughie was nice, but he didn’t quite get it. There was always some kind of disconnect. Maeve wasn’t nearly the mentor she was hoping for. She got it a little better now. Maeve had been in The Seven for years, Annie could only imagine how much it’d wear her down. 

On her way back from getting coffee, Annie stopped in front of a bookstore with a huge Vought display in the window. Her comics were front and center, a cardboard cut-out of her next to one of Homelander. The Deep’s comics were barely visible with clearance stickers slapped on the covers. Serves him right. She couldn’t believe he’d been her favorite at one point.

Sleepovers with the other Capes for Christ girls almost always led to a “who’s your favorite member of The Seven” discussion. The answers were always a lot of Homelander, some Lamplighter or Marathon Man, but you always answered Queen Maeve. Back then, she thought it was because you admired her strength, her trailblazing as the first woman in The Seven. Maybe it wasn’t that simple.

“That’s her! I swear to god it is!” Annie overheard someone whisper-yell.

“Who?”

“Starlight, over there!”

Annie kept her head down, speed-walking up the street. She ducked into the nearest subway, getting on the first train that stopped even though it was going further uptown. Pulling her hoodie up to obscure her face, she sighed. She had everything she ever dreamed of, but it seemed more and more like it was turning into a nightmare.

The following weeks were busy between her obligations with The Seven and helping Hughie with whatever cryptic stuff he was up to. She still found time to see you. Hanging out with you was the only thing that made her feel normal anymore. You were so confident in who you were, she felt comfortable finding out who she was outside of Starlight. With you, she could just be Annie. 

All of a sudden her association with Hughie had Homelander nearly turning on her. Maeve took up for her in nothing less than a Hail Mary moment. Then, to make matters worse, her entire world came crashing down when she agreed to meet up with Hughie despite his fugitive status. She wasn’t born with her powers, no supe was. Instead her mom signed her life away to Vought and allowed them to basically experiment on her. The cherry on top of the melting ice cream sundae that’d become her life was definitely getting shot immediately after finding out the news.

When she came to in the hospital, she saw you in your scrubs, slouched in the chair next to her bed. She reached out, taking your hand in hers. 

“Y/N?” she croaked out.

“Annie!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the chair. “Holy shit, how are you feeling? I did what I could when you got here. You heal fast, so you should be—“

“It’s all a lie! Our whole lives, Y/N! They fucking lied about everything!” she raged, her vision blurred by tears. “At least you got out. I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, don’t call my best friend stupid.”

She laughed weakly, sniffling a bit. “Thanks Y/N, for everything. All this time I was thinking I was doing what I wanted, but it was what everyone else wanted for me. It always has been.”

“Then start living for you, whatever that looks like. It’s never too late,” you said.

Her hand still intertwined with yours, she pulled you closer to her, your faces inches apart. Taking in your features, she admired how pretty you were. She’d always thought so, but didn’t know how to place it before. Since you’d reconnected, however, it was different. Butterflies in her stomach when you'd smile at her. Texts from you brightening her day. Hanging out with you being the highlight of her week. She didn’t have to try when it came to you. 

“I think I’ll start now,” she whispered.

In a moment of nerve-wracking bravery, Annie pressed her lips to yours. Relief swept over her when you kissed her back, smiling against her lips. Whatever happened next, she knew she could get through it with you by her side.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Just Friends, Chapter Three:

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

rating: M (infidelity, age gap (20+ years), steamy moments but no smut yet)

wc: 3.9k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

Morning dawned, waking you with the rise of the sun, its yellow light peeking in through the sliver between your closed curtains. With a smile still on from the events of your birthday party, you turn over in bed expecting for your mood to be dampened by Will’s presence beside you, but it seems he chose to stay at his own place up the street rather than face you after bailing on your party.

Forcing the thought of him out of your mind, you start your day as quickly as you can muster knowing that it will be spent beside Joel, though how it would be spent was still a mystery. You selfishly hoped whatever he had planned would take place behind the safety of closed doors so you wouldn’t have to keep your composure around him and pretend as though he was simply a friend.

As you jogged down the stairs, you were surprised to find Will in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes from the breakfast he made only for himself. Letting out an annoyed scoff, you walked up behind him to reach into the cabinet for a mug, earning an oblivious smile.

“Hey, morning,” he chimed. “How was the party?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you said, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “You miss my birthday, don’t come up to bed, and then use up my groceries to make yourself breakfast—“

“You were sleeping,” he argued, placing one hand on his hip. “Was I supposed to wake you?”

Rolling your eyes, you gave up on the entire idea of fixing yourself coffee, hoping that Joel would be able to provide what you needed—in more than just one sense.

“Where are you going?” he asked, following as you headed out of the room. “I took work off to make things up to you—“

“I already made plans with Joel and Ellie,” you said, thankful for the fact that you and Joel had established your friendship publicly enough that your time together didn’t seem strange. “Sorry.”

“Well, I can come—“

“Ellie’s sort of particular about people,” you interrupted, offering him an insincere shrug. “Sorry.”

“Well,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll go tell Tommy I can work after all. I just—“

Will walked over, pouting his lip out as he held your shoulders tenderly, looking down into your eyes.

“I really am sorry. I just wanted to make things right between us. We’ve been so off lately.”

“Yeah, well,” you looked down at your feet, unable to feel anything but resentment towards him. “You should’ve been at my party, then.”

Will gave you a shocked look as you pulled away to grab your bag, shrugging it over your shoulder before slipping your boots on.

“Babe—“

“I’ll see you later, alright?” You rested your hand on his arm and he nodded, his throat bobbing as he seemingly swallowed down his feelings.

“Alright.” He leaned in and you allowed him a kiss on the lips, her stomach churning with guilt the entire time. “How about we meet at the Bison after I get off for some dinner?”

Swallowing, you nodded, forcing a smile onto your face. “Sure, yeah. That sounds good.”

Leaving the house feeling like you just cheated on Joel, you were thankful that the morning air had yet to turn warm as you inhaled deeply, letting it refresh you and wash away all the gross feelings of your own betrayal.

Joel’s house was a short walk from yours, living across the street and one house over, the green, two-story lodge a stark contrast to its surroundings in the winter and almost camouflaged by the trees around it in the summer. As you walked up the path to his door, you started to think about how you’d been here in his front yard more than a few times after walking Ellie home on multiple occasions or catching Joel for a quick chat as he stumbled home after a shift, but you’d never been inside of it before.

In a strange way, it almost felt more intimate to take this step rather than the kiss you’d shared the night previous. A kiss could just be a kiss, but entering someone’s space means that there’s trust there—trust you weren’t sure you were deserving of.

As you stood there, watching Will as he left your place to walk in the opposite direction towards the patrol gate, you heard the door click open in front of you.

“There you are,” Ellie said, stopping herself in the doorway as if she was just about to jog over to your place. “The old man’s been pacing around like a puppy waiting for you to show up.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you apologized for being so late as she let you into their home, allowing you to kick your shoes off and drop your back in the entryway before guiding you past the living room and into the kitchen where the smell of sizzling bacon filled the room.

“I’m gonna go study with Dina and Cat,” Ellie announced, grabbing her backpack from the table and slinging it over her shoulder.

“Alright, kiddo. Dinner’s at six!” Joel called out to her as she made her way out of the house through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard.

“No fucking way,” you spoke after a beat, causing Joel to turn around as he stood in front of the stove, his soft as he took you in.

“Didn’t realize you were here,” he said, giving you a smile.

“I thought Tommy said it would be another week before the pigs were ready?” you asked

“Yeah, well,” he smiled, turning back to the pan in front of him. “He knew there’d be a bloodbath for it, I reckon, but you’re welcome to take some home with ya. Got plenty.”

“No, it’s probably safer here. Will would just steal it,” you said, instantly regretting bringing your boyfriend up as you watched Joel’s smile fade into a tight line as he brought a cup of coffee over to where you sat at the dining table.

“He show up last night?” You sucked in a sharp breath before shrugging.

“I don’t know. If he did, I don’t think he came to bed.” Joel nodded, his stern face unchanging as he walked back to the stove to turn off the flame. “Was there this morning though, cooking breakfast.”

“Oh,” he said, pausing as he started to make you a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Did you already eat?”

“No! No,” you assured, hating the look of disappointment in his eyes. “He just made breakfast for himself.”

“While you were there?”

You nodded.

“After standin’ you up?”

Another nod.

“On your birthday?”

You laughed and nodded one final time before he was carrying two plates over to the table, setting yours down in front of you before taking the seat across from you and setting his own down.

“Said he didn’t want to wake me up.” Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stabbed at his eggs.

“Dumb ass,” he muttered under his breath. “He ask where you were goin’?”

“Yeah, and I told him,” you said, watching as one of his eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “What? He knows we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, tipping his head to the side. “Does he know about the other stuff?”

“No,” you replied meekly, flashing him a smile from over the rim of your mug. “Don’t think he would’ve been so okay with me coming over here if he did.”

Joel’s brows twitched up as he smirked at you, full of mischief.

“That would’a been a real shame,” he purred, something unabashedly hungry and new in his voice as he spoke, sending sparks through your core. Shaking your head with a smile, you tried to change the subject.

“So, what do you have planned for today?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his bacon and letting out a satisfied groan. “God, it’s so good.”

“You’re doing that on purpose,” you said, watching as he feigned innocence.

“I know it ain’t the most romantic first date idea, but I was thinkin’ maybe you could help me paint Ellie’s room? She hates it bein’ pink, and I found some purple paint at the old lodge when I was on patrol. Thought it would be a nice surprise for her.”

Swoon.

“Such a softie at heart, Miller,” you teased, flashing him another smile. “That sounds like fun. Might have to go home and change into something else.”

“You can just borrow some of my clothes,” he suggested. “Save yourself a trip.”

“You okay with me ruining your stuff?”

Joel smirked, his dimple showing as his stare flickered down to your chest before climbing back up to your eyes.

“You can ruin whatever you want, honey,” he drawled, causing your breath to hitch.

“You’re awfully charming, you know that? I’m sure you must’ve been a real ladies man back in the day.”

“Didn’t have the time,” he chuckled. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

“Oh, whatever,” you teased. “You expect me to believe you’ve been a saint this whole time?”

“I didn’t say that,” he smirked.

“Has there been…anyone else in Jackson that’s gotten to see your charm?” you asked, dropping your eyes to your hands as they held your mug of coffee.

“I took someone home when I first got here but…couldn’t really manage anything impressive,” he admitted and you tried to conceal your jealousy with a weak chuckle. “She avoids me like the plague now.”

You only nodded in response as your food suddenly became harder to chew and swallow, your appetite gone due to the image of Joel with another woman. Joel must’ve noticed, his throat clearing as though it could wash away his confession.

“Didn’t mean nothin’ or anything like that,” he offered softly, watching as you gave him a flicker of a smile. “Not like…not like if you and I were to.”

“Is that right?” you asked, hoping to ease yourself out of your jealousy with thoughts of the two of you instead of him and someone else. “You’ve…thought about it?”

Joel chuckled as he stood up to walk his empty plate over to the sink.

“Only every day,” he replied, watching you as you joined him by the sink with your plate in hand. “What about you? You think of us like that?”

“Remember how I said I spent all day in bed yesterday?” you asked, delighting in his smile as he nodded. “Yeah. I think about you, Joel.”

Breathing in deep before letting it go, Joel shook his head at you.

“Gonna be a long day today, ain’t it?”

After changing into Joel’s clothes—a pair of his boxers acting as shorts and a pre-stained t-shirt—you and Joel headed into Ellie’s room to start on the painting.

“Alright, now I don’t know if we’ll get all four walls done,” he said, grunting as he pulled her bed away from the wall and into the center of the room. “But as long as we get one done, she’ll be able to get the picture.”

“Such low expectations,” you teased, following him over to the dresser to guide it away from the wall in tandem.

“Maybe if my back wasn’t as testy as it is,” he chuckled. “You’re workin’ with an old man here.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him.

“You’re not old.” Joel handed you a roll of painter’s tape and pointed at the baseboards, silently commanding you to your next step. “Old is gray.”

“Hate to break it to ya, honey, but I got plenty of grays,” he said, reaching up to work on taping the ceiling trim.

“Do you want the compliment or not?” You smiled and turned to him, resting your hands on your hips. Joel chuckled and nodded, walking over to you until he was towering above you like the broad wall of man he is. His eyes flickered to your lips before lifting again, dark irises searching your own for a moment. “Besides…maybe I’m into old men.”

“That why you’re with that boy?” he teased in a whisper, earning an eye roll.

“I’m hardly with him.” Joel’s brow lifted, his eyes continuing their dance between your features. “Don’t let him touch me.”

“No?” he husked as his hand settled on your hip, his thumb moving beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers to stroke across your heated skin. “You savin’ that for me?”

Nodding your head slowly, you relished in the soft chuckle and tick of his jaw you elicited, his hand’s soft hold turning into a grip at your admission.

“We gotta stay focused,” he reminded himself as you set your hands on his chest.

“One kiss,” you negotiated, your voice hardly a whisper. Joel looked pained as he nodded, leaning down to ghost his lips over yours.

This was the difference between Joel and Will. While you recoiled from Will’s advances, pushing yourself away from the slightest of touches, you found yourself melting into Joel. It was like you couldn’t get close enough, every nerve in your body alight, your head spinning with desire, your heart and center throbbing from something as simple as his breath fanning over your lips.

“You want me to kiss you?” It was more of a statement than anything, but you nodded eagerly regardless, not caring enough to play hard to get.

Joel smiled, his hand leaving your hip to frame your jaw as his lips pressed softly to yours at first before turning deeper, more desperate. He swallowed your moan, letting out a groan of his own as you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip.

“Baby,” he sighed, resting his forehead against yours to catch his breath. “Makin’ it hard to do the right thing here.”

“And what would that be?” you asked in a breathy pant.

“Not…not goin’ there while you’re…involved,” he replied.

“I don’t care about doing the right thing,” you said, your hands gently clutching at the collar of his flannel to keep him from pulling away. “Do you?”

“M’tryin’ to,” he drawled, brushing his nose along your cheek. “Tryin’ to be a better man than I’ve been.”

“For who? Me?” you asked, tipping your head back enough to look into his dark eyes. Joel nodded, lowering his hands back to your hips to grip at the hem of his t-shirt covering your frame. “Joel, I don’t care about you being a ‘better’ man for me. You’re fine as you are.”

Chuckling, Joel let his eyes close as though he was struggling to gather the strength it took to pull himself from you.

“I…I wanna wait, honey,” he said, swallowing thickly before meeting your eyes again. “Don't wanna hurry with you.”

You nodded, managing a sincere smile at the care he was showing you, even if it was driving you mad with frustration.

“Okay,” you breathed, patting his chest before stepping away from his orbit. “Glad at least one of us is thinking straight.”

“Oh, believe me, it ain’t easy,” he chuckled, turning back to the wall to resume his taping while you did the same.

“Joel? You here?” Ellie called up from the bottom of the stairs, causing you and Joel to turn to each other with wide eyes.

“I’ll go stall her,” he said, dropping his tape on the dresser behind him while you nodded, hurrying up with your task.

Joel’s steps were heavy as he jogged down the stairs, his eyes searching for Ellie until he found her in the living room sitting with Dina, Cat, and…Will?

“Hey,” Joel announced his presence, causing every eye to turn to him. “What’s up?”

“We just wanted to leave the Bison. Too loud,” Ellie said. “On our way, we saw Will.”

“Yeah, I had the day off and wanted to see if I could come hang out with the two of you. I know we’re not very close, but I think it would mean a lot to her if we were.”

“I’m not so sure ‘bout that,” Joel muttered under his breath and chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So what do you say?” Will stood up and walked over, holding his hand out with a smile. “Friends?”

Ellie smirked as she watched the scene in front of her, not knowing everything but knowing enough to be amused by his predicament.

“Yeah,” Joel sighed and slapped his hand into Will’s. “Friends.”

Turning to Ellie and her friends, he tried to focus on his plan of action there, but very quickly just gave in to telling her the surprise since he knew it would take only about five minutes for her to figure it out.

“Hey, El? Come upstairs, I got a surprise for ya,” Joel said, glancing at Will who geared up to follow them. “Now, it ain’t even started yet because you came home too soon, but—“

“I was gone for like an hour,” she interjected, forcing Joel’s ears to heat with nerves.

“Yeah, well,” he flickered his eyes back to Will who climbed the stairs behind him. “She didn’t have any breakfast so I had to feed her.”

Will’s eyes lifted to meet Joel’s for only a second before he was looking back down to the wood beneath each of his steps.

As Joel opened the door to Ellie’s bedroom, he saw you already hard at work on painting the perimeter, a smile tugging at his lips at the sight.

“Oh no,” you frowned, taking in Ellie in the doorway. “Well, surprise.”

“Oh, there’s a better surprise for you right behind me,” Ellie said, smirking as she walked into the room. The furrow in your brow disappeared as Will came into view, standing beside Joel in the doorway with an eager smile.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes flickering over your new wardrobe. “Thought I’d come hang out.”

You said nothing, simply turning back to the wall, taking the paintbrush in your hand and dragging it along the baseboard.

“This is so awesome, man,” Ellie chimed, sitting on the bed to watch you. “Thanks, Joel.”

“No problem,” he said, trying to keep his eyes off of you as you bent over. “You and your friends wanna come help?”

“Uh…”

Joel chuckled and waved his hand at her as he walked over to stand beside you, grabbing his tape to finish off the rest of the ceiling trim.

“I was kiddin’,” he said. “Go back downstairs, I’ll get ya when it’s ready.”

“Sweet. Thanks.” Ellie hopped off her bed and made her exit, leaving the three of you alone in awkward silence as you all began working and painting in one small room, but Joel actually preferred the tense quiet over conversation.

He didn’t want to have to answer questions about himself or his path, didn’t want to hear the two of you talk to each other, but most of all, he didn’t want any reason for you to get upset and leave.

“So,” Will started with a smile. “I see you’ve got a new set of clothes on.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore his attempt at starting a fight for Joel’s sake.

“Yeah, Will,” you said flatly. “I didn’t know we were going to be painting.”

“Yeah, I thought you said Ellie was supposed to be here, too?” he continued prodding, earning a scoff.

“She is here,” you argued.

“Yes, but she wasn’t before—“

“You tryin’ to insinuate somethin’?” Joel asked, meeting the man nearly thirty years his junior in the eyes.

“Just think about it from my perspective,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I come here, you two are all alone upstairs, she’s wearing your boxers—“

“I’m wearing underwear underneath,” you chuckled darkly, beyond irritated at his sudden possessiveness. “It’s not like I’m fucking naked in his bed, Will.”

“You could have been, though,” he pressed. “You know? It’s just—listen, I know that you’d never do that to me, baby, okay? But the rest of town likes to talk and misconstrue shit—“

“So let ‘em,” Joel spoke up, resting one hand on his hip. “If you know it ain’t true, then let ‘em talk. I don’t know why you wanna come in here claimin’ to wanna be my friend and then start all this.”

“Well that was before I saw—“

“Fucking Christ!” you shouted, resting your paintbrush down in the pan before reaching for the hem of Joel’s t-shirt on your body and tugging it off. You did the same with Joel’s boxers next, leaving you in your sports bra and underwear, both men looking at you with wide, shocked eyes as you stomped over to Ellie’s bed where your clothes were folded, hurrying them on. “This what you wanted? Fine, I’ll ruin my shirt. I’ll ruin my jeans. Just please, for the love of god, go home. You’re being so fucking annoying.”

“Babe—“

“No,” you whined again, hating that he was bringing this side of you out in front of Joel who stood watching you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Please fucking go, Will.”

“Fine,” he snapped, putting his hands in the air. “I’ll go back to my place. You two have fun.”

Waiting until he descended the stairs and the front door slammed shut, you let out the breath you’d been holding and covered your face with your hands.

“I’m so sorry, Joel. That was…mortifying. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Joel shook his head although you couldn’t see it. “Hey, look at me.”

You let your hands drop at the sound of his command, you teary eyes meeting his soft ones.

“You don’t gotta apologize for him. He came in here lookin’ for a fight.”

“Still, I wish I hadn’t been so dramatic,” you said, frowning.

Joel chuckled and tipped his head to the side as he reached down to pick his clothes still warmed by your skin off the floor before walking them over to you.

“I kinda liked the show,” he joked, earning an eye roll. “Remind me to thank him for that.”

“Stop,” you laughed, stealing his clothes from his hands. “I’m not even in my cute underwear.”

“If you think I was lookin’ at your underwear, you’re outta your mind, honey,” he drawled. “Go change, I’ll go make us somethin’ to drink?”

“Wait—“ You reached for his hand as he moved to leave, tugging him back to you with enough force to earn an “umph”. “Kiss me?”

Joel agreed easily, not needing any sort of persuasion to press himself close to you and kiss your lips with the sort of tenderness that made you feel like you were being apologized to. Holding the back of his head, you kept him there, unable to part with him until you got your fill and he seemed content with letting you take.

Resting your forehead against his, you smiled down at your feet. “Thanks. And thanks for standing up for me, too.”

Joel let out a puff of laughter and shook his head against yours.

“Anytime you want me to put some fear into him, I’m more than happy to oblige, honey.”

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 9

Just moving right along with these. Here I introduce two new people to befriend Steve. Because I like Steve having friends his own age that he hasn’t trauma bonded to. Starting tomorrow I’ll be putting up a little plot bunny that got away from me but have no fear, this one will return.

On the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 

*

Steve was biting his nail as he waited his turn at the back of the crowd to see if he had made it.

“Ain’t doing it for this time, big boy,” Eddie told him. “I will stay for emotional support though.”

Steve gave Eddie’s arm a squeeze. “Thanks, man. I’m just so nervous.”

Finally they got to the front of the line and Steve’s finger slid down the list and next Thompson was Steve Harrington.

“I got it!” he said jumping up and down. “I got it!” He hugged Eddie.

And Eddie gave him a small tap on the back in return.

“We need to celebrate!” Steve said. “I’m taking everyone out to dinner.”

Eddie laughed. “The whole school, huh? Man, I knew you were rich, but that’s a lot.”

Steve playfully shoved at him. “Noooo...I mean you and the rest of Corroded Coffin. If it wasn’t for you guys I wouldn’t have ever tried out and I want to thank everyone.”

“Sounds great, pretty boy,” Eddie said. He turned Steve around and pushed him toward his first class. “Now go, before you’re late.”

Steve laughed and started walking. He looked over his shoulder and smiled softly.

Butterflies took off in his stomach looking at Eddie. He shook his head and went to class. That was another thought for another time. If he was going to graduate, he couldn’t be late.

*

Eddie went to go pick Steve for the celebration dinner but when he pulled up to the house there was a shiny silver BMW in the driveway and the front door was open.

Shit, shit, shit.

He wasn’t going to back out now. Steve needed him. He got out of the van and skipped up to the door.

He knocked on the door frame and an elegant woman in her early forties came out of one of the side rooms.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking in his band tee and ripped black jeans with a sneer.

He held out his hand. “Edward Munson, ma’am. Steve and I are in math together.”

Just then Steve came out of his room with his dad. Mr Harrington looked thunderous and Steve more than a little frightened.

“Eddie!” Steve called out.

“What’s all this then?” Mr Harrington boomed.

“Stevie and I are doing a project in math,” Eddie explained with a grin. “Mr Vinke assigned pairs to research noted mathematicians. We picked Gosta Mittag-Leffler, the dude that is the reason the Noble prizes don’t have a math award.”

Mrs Harrington turned to her son. “Couldn’t you have worked with any of your friends?”

Steve blushed.

“It’s just Tommy and Carol in that class and since they wanted to work together, Mr Vinke put me with Eddie.”

“Can’t be helped, I suppose,” Mr Harrington said gruffly.

“I’m here to pick him up to go to the library,” Eddie explained. “But we can do it tomorrow if you’re busy?”

Steve looked to his parents, in half agony and half hope. Agony because he did want to go celebrate with his friends. Hope because even if he couldn’t do it tonight, at least he would be able to see his parents and tell them all about his good news.

“It’s fine,” Mrs Harrington said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’re only stopping by for a couple hours anyway. I wanted to get some of my nicer jewelry and don’t trust the mail system to get it to me intact or at all.”

Steve’s face fell. “You aren’t staying?”

“Big meeting in Chicago tomorrow morning with some very important Japanese investors,” Mr Harrington boomed, pounding Steve on the back. “Can’t be missed.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll just go get my school bag.” He ran back into his room and grabbed his things. He was back out in a flash. Steve squeezed past his dad and thundered down the stairs. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“You ready to go?” Eddie asked softly.

Steve nodded.

Eddie waved at the Harringtons. “It was nice meeting you both.”

As they walked to the van they heard Mrs Harrington say, “Well, at least he’s a polite boy.”

“I didn’t know manners were taught to trailer trash,” Mr Harrington replied with a guffaw.

Eddie winced and Steve gave his elbow a squeeze. Once the were in the van and pulling out of the drive way, both boys relaxed.

“I’m sorry about that, man,” Steve said. “They literally came home ten minutes before you got there. I tried calling but Wayne said you had already left.”

Eddie turned and looked at him. “Hey, it’s okay. Because at least this way it wouldn’t leave me and the boys hanging at the diner wondering where you are.”

Steve blushed. “It was still rude of them. They didn’t tell me they were coming home and then to just dash off like I didn’t exist. Even I can tell that this is an aesthetic that is carefully, artfully done.” He waved at Eddie’s look.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”  

“The shoes,” Steve explained. “They are too white and too new to be trash.”

Eddie grinned. “Look at you, being all observant.”

Steve just shook his head. “It’s not rocket science, dude.”

“No, but it is Sherlockian,” Eddie said.

Steve laughed. “Fair enough.”

*

They arrived at the diner to see that in addition to Jeff, Gareth, and Brian, Gethin and someone he didn’t know was there, too.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie greeted.

The new boy was a shocking curly-haired redhead with more freckles then hairs on his head.

“Hey, Steve! Eddie!” Jeff greeted. “This is Marty. He’s part of Hellfire Club, too. He’s a senior this year, so we’ll miss him next year.”

Steve waved. Eddie slid into the booth and Steve next to him.

“I wanted to celebrate Kyle not getting the role,” Marty said with a grin.

Steve eyed the new boy with new appreciation.

Eddie’s grin was feral. “In addition to Marty being in the club, he’s head of stage crew.”

“And assistant director this year,” Marty added with a grin.

“Ooh...” Gethin said. “Many hats this year.”

“Yeah,” Marty said. “It’s going to be hectic. I can’t wait.”

Steve grinned. Marty reminded him of Dustin a lot. “I’ve gotta ask. Why didn’t you want Kyle to be Thomson?”

“Because he cheated on the first audition,” Marty deadpanned.

All eyes went to Marty as they stared at him in shock.

“How?” Brian asked.

“He recorded a perfect version of himself singing and lipsynced with the Walkman in his pocket,” Marty explained.

“So how come he didn’t do it again?” Eddie asked.

Marty pulled something out his pocket. It was a small cassette tape. He waved it back and forth with a smirk.

“I may or may not have removed the tape just before he went on.”

Steve laughed. “I think you’re my new favorite person.”

Eddie clutched his chest. “I’m wounded, Stevie. So wounded that I am no longer your favorite person.”

“All right, all right,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Marty is my second favorite.”

“But I’m the one that destroyed your art project!” Gethin protested.

“Tied for second then,” Steve amended.

Suddenly the other boys were fighting over being his third favorite. Or fourth. There was some debate over that.

They only stopped when it came time to order.

Once they all got their drinks, Eddie held his up. “To Steve!”

“To Steve!” everyone else parroted back.

“Thanks, guys!” Steve said, blushing.

*

It was very late when Eddie pulled up to the now empty and darkened house.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmured. “That was fun.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Just let me know if you need a fake report to show your parents.”

Steve laughed. “I don’t think they’ve looked at so much as my report card since seventh grade. I think I’m good, man.”

Eddie just shook his head. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

“Good night, Eds,” Steve whispered. He got out the car and waved good night.

Eddie waved back and waited until Steve was inside, before his eyes slipped shut.

He was in so much trouble. It had been so long since Eddie had a crush on anyone that he forgot what the warning signs were.

Wanting to spend every minute of every day with them. Check.

Wanting to do things for them all the time. Check.

The warm fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he saw them. Check.

Wanting to be even more outrageous to catch their eye. Check.

Being jealous of other people spending time with them. Triple check.

Fuck.

When Steve had said that Marty was his new favorite person, Eddie’s own personal green-eyed monster began hissing in his ear. It immediately went running when Steve amended his statement, though.

Which was something Eddie should examine more closely. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to. In case the answer wasn’t the one he wanted.

Eddie was a little bit furious with himself. Steve was a known ladies’ man. like besides his hair, it’s what he was famous for. So unless Steve was secretly a Rock Hudson or Rupert Everett then Eddie was screwed. Crushing on straight boys was a death sentence to any gay man. But especially when that was all that was available in Bumfuck, Indiana.

He pulled out the driveway trying to come up with ways to break his crush on Steve without breaking their friendship.

By the time he got home he was no closer to an answer than he was at Steve’s.

Part 10 Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

@shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead  @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot  @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

[whereslynx]

could i request oscar coming home from jail to find the girl he loved in an bad relationship and he tries to get her out of it ?? maybe she’s always loved him but never thought he would get out

TW: toxic relationship + abuse — please be mindful to care for your wellbeing if you’re sensitive to these topics!

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Oscar had barely stepped out of the gates of the prison before a feeling of hope mixed with trepidation settled in his chest. For years, he’d counted down the days, holding onto one steady image in his mind—the girl he left behind, the one person who had unknowingly given him strength to get through the darkest of days. You.

But as he made his way back to Freeridge, a sense of worry gnawed at him. He’d heard bits and pieces through the grapevine, whispers that hinted at you being in a tough spot. And even though he’d tried to push those thoughts away, they resurfaced with a vengeance as he walked down familiar streets, the memories and dreams of what could have been filling him with bittersweet ache.

He hadn’t even gotten a chance to change out of the clothes he’d worn the night he got locked up, when he saw you at the corner market, barely recognizing the woman he’d kept in his mind all those years. You looked tired, like life had taken more from you than it’d given back. Bruises peeked out from beneath your long sleeves, and Oscar’s heart twisted. His suspicions weren’t just rumors; they were real.

Your eyes met, and for a split second, the years melted away. But then, you looked away, nervously glancing over your shoulder as if someone might be watching. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know. You were still in love with him, he could feel it in the way your eyes softened just slightly, but he could also see that you were trapped.

He approached you, fighting the tension tightening his fists. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he said softly, his voice controlled but carrying a hint of his frustration.

You gave him a tight smile, avoiding his gaze as yours darted around nervously, “Didn’t think you’d ever be back.”

“Yeah, well.. I’m here,” he replied, his voice a bit harder than he intended. “But damn, I didn’t think I’d come back to this. You good?” His eyes lingered on the bruise peeking out from your sleeve, making his stomach churn with anger.

Youse stood there in silence, the bustling noise of the market around them feeling distant. You hugged your arms around yourself, a defensive stance that Oscar noticed all too well. It broke his heart, seeing you like this, a shadow of the girl he remembered.

“I’m fine, Oscar. Life’s just.. complicated.”

“Complicated?” he repeated, his voice rough, barely containing his frustration. “That’s how you’re gonna play it off? Who did this to you?” He leaned in, his voice dropping lower, sharper. “Whoever this fool is, he got no idea who he’s messin’ with.”

You looked away, your expression tightening. “It’s not that easy. He’s not the kind of guy you can just walk away from. He made it real clear I don’t have options.”

Oscar took a steadying breath, his jaw clenched. “Options? Nah, that’s where you’re wrong.” He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm with a surprising gentleness. “You got options. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you stay with some piece of shit who thinks it’s cool to put his hands on you.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, breaking down for a moment in the safety of his presence. “I thought you were gone for good.” You mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your top, “He made me think this was it, that there wasn’t anything else for me.”

Oscar’s face tightened with a mix of pain and anger. “That’s what he told you? That you got nowhere to go?” He shook his head, his voice low and steady but laced with fury. “Nah, he doesn’t get to decide that. I’m here, aight? And I don’t care what he says. I’ll be damned if I let some wannabe keep you trapped.”

You looked up at him, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes before it was swallowed by doubt and fear. “Oscar, I can’t just—he’ll know. And he’ll come after me.”

Oscar’s jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. “He tries anything, he gon’ have to go through me,” he promised, his voice a quiet, dangerous calm. “Listen to me, I’m not about to let him lay another finger on you.”

You took a shaky breath, your eyes searching his. For a moment, your guard dropped, and you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could escape.

“Just say the word,” he murmured, his hand strong and steady on your arm, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I’ll get you out of there, and I’ll make damn sure you never have to look back.”

Before you could answer, a figure emerged behind you, sliding his hand possessively around your waist. He was tall, stocky, his arms covered in tattoos that looked more like threats than art. The guy’s name was Marco, an old associate from Freeridge. Oscar remembered him as one of those punks who never knew when to back down, the type who got off on control and intimidation. He’d seen Marco in and out of small-time trouble, always trying to climb the ranks in the most twisted ways.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Marco’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it, his grip tightening on your waist as he pulled you a step away from Oscar. You winced slightly at his touch, and that was all Oscar needed to know.

Oscar’s gaze hardened, meeting Marco’s eyes with a simmering defiance. “Just catching up with an old friend, Marco. Problem with that?” He kept his tone cool, but a dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes.

Marco chuckled darkly, his arm never leaving her waist. “She don’t need friends. She’s got me.”

Oscar took a step closer, his stance steady, unyielding. “Friends don’t leave marks, Marco.” The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a split second, he saw the slightest hint of unease in Marco’s expression.

“Careful,” Marco sneered, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his gaze. “You don’t wanna mess with me, Spooky.”

Oscar’s patience snapped. He stepped forward, placing himself directly between you and Marco, his tone low and dangerous. “Nah, you don’t wanna mess with me.”

Oscar stood tall, the tension radiating off him like a storm ready to break. “You might think you run things around here since I’ve been locked up, Marco, but lemme remind you—I’m the leader of the Santos. You got a problem with me, you hit up the crew round the block, and we’ll settle this.” His voice dripped with authority, each word punctuated by the weight of his reputation. The streets respected him, and he wasn’t about to let Marco act like he owned this turf.

Marco’s grip on her tightened for a moment, anger flashing in his eyes. “You think just ’cause you got some muscle, you can roll back into town and take what’s mine? You don’t get to decide who she hangs with. I control her, not you.”

“Control?” Oscar scoffed, his voice rising slightly, filled with disdain. “You ain’t controlling anything but the fear you put in her. That’s not power, that’s cowardice. You don’t get to treat her like a trophy.” He pointed an accusing finger at Marco, each syllable deliberate and fierce. “She’s a person, not some piece of property you can flaunt.”

“Keep talking, Spooky,” Marco shot back, the irritation seeping through his bravado. “But you and I both know it ain’t just about you. She’ll come crawling back to me, just like she always does.” He turned to you, a predatory smirk on his face. “Just remember, girl, he’s not your savior. This is the life you chose.”

Oscar felt a flicker of frustration, not just at Marco, but at the situation itself. “She didn’t choose this,” he snapped, taking a step closer, his eyes never leaving Marco’s. “You made her think she had no options, that she had to stay with you. But now she’s got me. And if you think for a second I’ll let you pull this shit, you’re dead wrong.” He rasped, “You’re lucky I just got out the box, woulda pulled a gun on your ass by now.”

The intensity of the moment hung thick in the air. Marco hesitated, realizing the tide was turning, his gaze flickering to the lingering stares of those who walked past. He could feel the weight of the street’s reputation behind Oscar, the respect he commanded from the Santos and beyond. “Fine,” Marco spat, finally letting you go, shoving you toward Oscar as if you were nothing more than an object. “But don’t think this is over. I’ll be watching you, and when you mess up, don’t come crying to me.”

You stumbled slightly but caught herself, glancing between the two men, You heart racing. Oscar’s expression softened as he turned to you, the anger fading to concern. “You good?” he asked, his voice low, almost gentle now.

You nodded, though your eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I think so.”

“Let’s get you outta here,” Oscar said, stepping forward and taking your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. “We’ll figure this out together.”

As you walked away from the market, Oscar could feel Marco’s glare burning into his back, the tension of the confrontation still buzzing in the air. But he didn’t care. What mattered now was your safety, your happiness. He’d faced down worse than Marco, and he wasn’t about to let anyone—especially not some punk with a need to control—put you back in a corner.

“So, what’s the plan?” You asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Plan? We get you somewhere safe first, then we talk. You’re not alone in this, alright? Not anymore.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles reassuringly, and he couldn’t help but feel that, despite everything, this was where he belonged—right here, fighting for you.

As they walked through the familiar streets of Freeridge, Oscar realized that coming back wasn’t just about reclaiming the past; it was about forging a future. A future where you could finally be free, where youse could rewrite your guys’ story, leaving the shadows of your past behind youse.

[dr-demi-bee]

Day 16--------------------Read on AO3--------------------------

Pairing: Raphael/Tav

Prompt: Accidental Stimulation

Alternative Act 3, make a deal with the devil, possessive, SFW

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

Raphael snapped his fingers - and suddenly everything was quiet. The incessant pressure in her mind, the constant chatter and presence of the others - silenced. The sounds and feelings she’d gotten used to over the last several tendays, miraculously hushed. The world was suddenly quiet. Too quiet.

Tav realized with a start that he had done something to the tadpole in her mind. Eerie and unsettling.

Blocked it out somehow. And now she was startlingly alone in this room. Just her. And him.

“What did you do?” Tav eyes him skeptically, her guard up. There’s no way he had removed it, that would be entirely too easy and charitable of him.

“Fret not, my dear,” he purrs with a soft grin, “I merely shut out that illithid in your pocket for a while. It can’t hear us.”

“To what end?”

“So we can enjoy some privacy,” he returns, positively churning with self-satisfaction. “Come, let us discuss.”

The cambion turns and gestures to a small table nearby - a paltry thing, meant more for an end-table or a nightstand, rather than the pair of chairs set up on either side of it. Tav gives him a withering, skeptical glare, but strides across the room and sits heavily, her armor rattling noisily. Raphael makes a brief, amused laugh before following. Somehow his steps are ever more graceful and composed.

Tav crosses her arms over her chest, keeping her chair a bit back from the table. Raphael, however, leans forward, crowding closer.

“Let us speak plain,” he drawls, “I’ll admit - you’ve impressed me. I wasn’t sure you’d make it this far.”

His words sound like admiration and mockery both. Tav sneers back at him. “Get to the point, please.”

“Ever impatient,” Raphael chides. “I think you will want to hear what I have to offer, my dear.”

Tav extends one hand palm up with fingers splayed, encouraging him to continue. Speak plain he says, and yet he never just gets to his point. He insists on drawing everything out into prose at a snails pace. You’d think he’d understand the urgency of the realm’s destruction breathing down their necks. Or perhaps he cares not at all. His shit-eating grin certainly suggests he doesn’t. Would that it weren’t so infuriatingly handsome.

Raphael scoffs a short laugh at her expense. “I have in my possession a tool which will aid you in felling the wretched plight bearing down on this fair city. With it, you will be able to use the key to success already in your possession.”

Tav frowns, but leans in slightly closer. It’s easy enough to put the puzzle pieces together, no matter how obtusely he lays it out. “A way to free Orpheus?”

“There’s that clever wit. Precisely,” he returns with a grin. “Very perceptive, little mouse.”

“And what do you want for it?”

“I want to become your patron,” he answers simply. Tav’s lips and brows curl inward with an incredulous indignation.

“I’m not a warlock,” she counters, tapping a gauntleted finger heavily against the table, “Nor do I want to be one. Why would I want to be yours?”

“Hah!” Raphael puts a hand on his stomach as he leans back with a hearty laugh. “Oh, Please,” he returns gratingly smugly, “We both know just how ambitious you are, little warrior. And who better to provide you with all the power you could ever want, right at your fingertips, than the devil you already know?”

Tav’s expression curdles further with distaste. “I’ve no interest in being tied to you for gods know how long. I don’t hate you, but I certainly don’t like you, Raphael.”

“Ah, don’t play coy with me, Tav,” the devil returns with that same self-assured air. “You and I both know the truth. Not to mention,” he pauses to gesture grandly towards her head and the city out the window, “You quite need my help, my dear.”

“It’s awfully convenient you just so happen to have exactly what I need.”

“Isn’t it just?” Raphael preens, “And it’s even more convenient that you can give me exactly what I want in return.”

Tav stares him down for a moment more, a thousand and one arguments playing out in her mind. She can already hear her companion’s arguments for and against, even without the tadpole’s prodding. But she’s seen first hand the pros and cons of having a devil as one’s patron... But in light of what they stand to gain... And Raphael’s not so bad...is he?

Tav’s confidence wavers.

“Just what do you hope to gain by making me your warlock?” She questions with a dubious arch of her brow. Raphael clearly sees the bluster of her rejection fading, and his grin already shows triumph. It’s enough to make her shiver as his brows draw low and his eyes have a wicked gleam.

“Power. You free Orpheus with my artifact and my power - and in doing so, save the city, the Sword Coast perhaps the whole world. And own precious skin, too.” His hands gesture about with his usual air of theatrics. But she can tell he’s just trying to draw her in - dazzle her with purring words and enamoring movements. But she doesn’t miss the obvious lascivious turn in the last phrase. “And in return, I gain a most powerful ally. The future hero of Baldur’s Gate, a mighty warrior and cunning tactician, imbued with the power of the hells.”

“Generous to call a warlock and ally.”

Raphael arches a brow back at her, cradling his chin in his hand as he regards her shrewdly. Something about the heat in his gaze has her stomach heating and a shiver racing down her spine. And gods dammit, the lilt of his lips suggests he knows.

“I’m not a cruel patron, my dear,” he returns coolly, “Quite the opposite.”

Raphael very intentionally leans forward, planting both elbows on the meager table to thread his fingers together before his chin. His gaze seems to see straight through her - to take apart the armor and soft layers beneath- cracking open her ribcage to see the raw beating red of her. Tav bristles slightly and leans back into the chair. The slight arch of his brow in response is questioning. Scared, little mouse?

Tav hardens her expression. No. There is no weakness. Not in her armor, not in her resolve, and not in the soft quivering of her insides.

“Come now,” Raphael purrs lowly, “You need not wear the mask with me, my dear. I know the truth in your soul.”

“Ask me if I care, devil,” Tav grits back through her teeth, “I won’t be conned and manipulated and kowtow to you.”

“No?” Raphael leans back in his chair, though his presence looms as large as ever. Even in his humanoid form he exudes the aura of those massive wings, those great horns. There’s no hiding the cambion red beneath this façade. His lips tip up in that sanguine smile. “You haven’t even asked the most important questions. It’s quite unlike you, curious pup that you are.”

Tav bristles, showing her teeth in a mockery of disgust. She won’t give him the satisfaction of openly displaying how those pet names worm their way into her. How that confidence makes her feel more than intimidation.

“Fine. What do you get out of having me as your warlock? A ‘powerful ally’ to what end?”

“Ah, now you’re showing just why I like that keen mind of yours.” His grin turns decidedly predatory, and when his booted foot taps against hers beneath the table, Tav feels a shockwave of sensation rocket through her so hard she nearly jumps in her seat. The room rather suddenly feels too warm.

“I’ll hold no secret in this from you, my dear. I want to unite the Nine under one Archdevil Supreme. Me.” When Tav balks at he suggestion, his arrogant self-assuredness bubbles up to the surface of his expression. Raphael gestures to her, “And you, my dear, are just the woman I want at my side as I do it.”

Something wicked worms it’s way through her. Touching heart and lungs and pooling low in her stomach. To be his. As he conquers the hells. Gains more power than she could imagine. Potentially shares it with her.

Raphael slides his feet further between hers.

Tav panics.

Her foot rockets out before she can think twice and it slams into the cambion's shin. His expression breaks with wide eyed shock before he’s roaring in furious pain.

But Tav doesn’t stay to see it, she flies from her chair, sending it clattering to the floor as she flees from the room. Tav slams the door behind her, moving to vault down from the balcony, but before she can reach the railing there’s a column of flames blocking her path.

And it’s quickly filled with Raphael’s hulking true form. His wings flare and block out her view of the city - her escape route. And his lips are twisted in a furious sneer.

“You can’t run from me, little mouse.”

@lanafofana @lastlight-inn @waterdeep-weavemoss

@crimson-and-lavender @feedthepheasants @spooky-lil-bee

@heartfluttered

[gazs-blue-hat]

Whumptober Day 1: “How many Fingers” (John Price X Reader)

Summary: Even the most simple of of missions never end up all that simple.

Word Count: 1,514

Tw: Canon typical violence, blood. (LMK if I missed any)

The mission was supposed to be a simple one. A regular smash-and-grab of intel that took no more than thirty minutes. Like all well-laid plans, this one went to total shit. Gunfire filled the air and the sound of explosions rocked through the air.

Your team had been forced to split up, pairing off. Ghost and Soap as a team, Gaz and Price as a team, and..yourself. You always were better alone, acting as a shadow that followed the carnage of your boys. The decision to split up caused the predicament you were in now. Pinned down by an enemy sniper that you were playing chicken with.

“Shade, how copy?” The voice of your Captain and lover flowed through your earpiece like honey through a sieve. You felt your heartbeat slowing down as if he was right next to you rather than a mile away in a different building.

“Still playing chicken sir. This bastard won’t give up.” Your words were punctuated by the harsh sound of a sniper’s bullet crashing into the wall slightly above your head. You swore as you ducked down, thanking the stars above that you were wearing a helmet. Flakes of drywall and plaster rained down on you, knocking against your helmeted head.

“You need to get out of their Shade!” Price shouted from his point at his position. You rolled your eyes and poked your head up, trying to get a glint of the enemy’s scope. No luck, as usual.

“Can’t do that sir. He’s got me pinned down here. If I move from this position, there’s no way I’m making it more than ten feet before I’m turned into mush.”

“I don’t need the visuals thank you.” He replied. You could almost imagine the look on his face. There was another shot above you, sending more debris down on you. In this cluster of debris was a large piece of sheet metal. If you were clever…you could use it as some sort of shield to get you to the next batch of cover.

“Captain, I’m about to do something stupid.” You whispered, your voice was soft, filled with all the words you wanted to tell him into it.

“Shade? Repeat your last?” Price asked. You could feel the churning in your chest, the mustering of courage. This is what you were here to do, this was your job. For better or worse, in victory or defeat. You needed to get back to Exfil.

“I’m gonna use a piece of sheet metal here as a shield. Won’t. Block a bullet but should slow it down enough to not be fatal. I’ll see you in fifteen.” You then removed the com from your ear, not needing to hear his shouting at your stupid stupid plan.

You bent down, grabbing the piece of metal and shifting it so it covered you. You used some straps from your tac vest to strap the metal to your side, kind of like a wonky turtle shell.

“I better get a medal for this. This is so MacGyver..”. You continued to grumble to yourself as you made sure the sheet metal was attached as firmly as you could. You took a deep breath and then sprinted into the open.

————-

Price was standing atop the hill that had been designated for exfil. The helicopter’s blades were whirring above and he watched with his hands on his hips at your last known location. he used his binoculars to try and find you but to no avail.

“Captain! I’ve found them!” Gas shouted from his side, pointing at a small figure huddled under a massive piece of sheet metal.

“Jesus Christ on a bike. What are they doing?!” Soap. Shouted from his sniping position in a different building. He had been trying to find the sniper that had pinned you down, to no avail. The boys watched as you used the large metal piece as a shield, taking bullet after bullet and falling apart as you scrambled your way across the battlefield.

You were almost there, almost to a point where they could provide cover fire. You were ten feet away, seven feet, five feet.

Price watched through his binoculars with horror as a single bullet pierced through the large piece of metal and slammed against your cranium.

“SHADE!”

————

You were relatively proud of your shield idea. It was working way better than you had thought it would! You felt each bullet hit the shield as it wobbled and shifted. Bits fell off as the metal grew brittle from the series of holes punched into it. You knew you were close to cover, so so very close. Until blinding pain seared through your right temple.

A bullet had found a weak spot in the metal, pierced it, and then slammed against your helmet. You felt your body shift as the momentum of the bullet forced you to the side. The piece of sheet metal fell on the top of you, and a good thing too, because if it hadn’t, you would have been completely exposed to the enemy sniper.

On the positive side, the plethora of gunshots meant a large number of muzzle flashes. Soap was able to find the sniper and eliminate them.

“Target KIA. Someone get down there to help!” He shouted into his mic. He didn’t need to say anything though, John Price was already sliding in the muck at your side, hefting the piece of metal off your side. The amount of blood was staggering.

The bullet had pierced your helmet, but you were still breathing. Your eyes were crossed and your mouth opened and closed in the muck, trying to form words. John didn’t move you, not until he was sure your neck or back wasn’t broken. Once he deemed those parts of you alight, he shifted you, sitting you up against him. And removing your helmet.

You couldn’t see, you couldn’t think. All you could sense was the warmth of blood on your face and the chill of the air. You tried to form words, try to ask what was going on, but your brain wasn’t working right.

“Uh….John…Wha?” Your voice was raspy and your eyelids fluttered. John examined the wound on your head and began speaking rapidly into hi radio. You couldn’t hear him at all, you could hardly even see the man. The only reason you knew it was John was due to the faint scent of his cigars and the aftershave he used that morning.

“We need immediate extraction! Shade is down!” Johnny’s voice

“Someone call base, get them ready. It’s a bad one.” Kyle

“Someone with a med kit get down there! Stop the bleeding!” Simon

“Love..look at me. Darling focus on me.” It was this voice that snapped your eyes forward, away from your nose. John’s figure blurred and wavered before your face but he was there. His bright blue eyes, his silly hat you thought was so cute.

“John…”. Your voice came out slurred as blood stained your teeth. You must have bitten your cheek as you fell. Why couldn’t you feel anything? Why did you feel so sick? You were cold, so so cold.

“Darling, look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?” His voice was strained, you could see tears welling in his beautiful eyes. You wanted to lift your hand to wipe them away, but it wasn’t responding. You watched as he lifted his hand, holding up some fingers. You tried to focus, you did, but you were pretty confident that John didn’t have six fingers on his hand. Did he? Could be possible. You didn’t know much anymore.

“Six….four? I dunno…” You felt a surge of weakness wash over you and you heard John shout as he shook your vest a bit.

“Stop yelling…” You slurred, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. You could hear the whirring of the helicopters and you could smell the iron of blood. An icy realization surged through you.

You’re dying. You had been shot in the head, and you were dying. You were bleeding out in John’s arms.

“J..John..I…”. You were trying to say those words. The words you had only ever traced on his back as he slept. The words you would blink in Morse code from across the helicopter at him. You needed him. To hear you say it. before it was too late.

“No. No, no, no. You don’t say that now. You say that when I can ravage you like you deserve.” John whispered as he held your head close to his chest. You usually loved resting your head on his chest, but now you could only feel the sticky blood coating your cheek.

“John.” You didn’t hurt, it didn’t ache. You felt…safe. John looked down at your form, stress all over his face. You smiled and lifted a hand, drawing a little heart on his cheek with your blood.

“I love you.”

The world went black and the last thing you heard before you passed out was his deep reply.

“I love you too.”