#Candy's Bulletin Board

[dsaf-reverse-au]

Welcome To CandyCat's Family Diner! (2073)

Currently, this is our only location open. We aren't doing so great and we really are hoping for more customers.

Here's who's avaliable: Kevin Yendeck: Our new employee! A nightguard. Edith Yendeck: Kevin's sister. She often stops by in the day with Rick. Rick Yendeck: Kevin and Edith's brother. Unemployed and lounges on the couch drinking beer and watching Transformers. Miller Tonic: Co-founder and adopted son of Yugo Yugo Willer: Founder and adoptive father of Miller. Kindest soul we've seen in a while! Tom Wöm-Nizer: Prize corner worker! Everyone hates that twink, but he's somehow not a virgin. SwapMod: The mod for this blog! Yes, I'm swapping between 3rd and 1st person so what? Also, yes, you cant talk to me, I don't bite :D

They're all alive and we're hoping to keep it that way.

Here's how to navigate through the tags we at Candy's put out for you:

#Candy's Bulletin Board - Updates And Information #!eroL ehT - Lore Posts #Event! - Events! #SwapMod Draws Things - I draw things #derewsA ksA - Asks that get answered. @reverse-au-reblogs - for the reblogs

Now, of course, like every good establishment, we have rules.

-No NSFW! This is a kid-friendly diner. -No hate-speech (towards SwapMod. Bully the characters they need it /hj /silly) Have fun, but don't stir up any trouble. -No racism! The majority of people here are black, and this takes place in the future. -We don't have a DNI. Everyone is welcome! Just don't make things weird.

These rules may be updated in the future. Until then, Have fun and WELCOME TO CANDYCAT'S!

[rafesangelita]

…NERD!RAFE X BITCHY!POGUE!READER AU

⋆𐙚₊˚👛⊹♡

NERD!RAFE X BITCHY!POGUE!READER who first spoke on the phone with each other when bitchy!pogue!reader found nerd!rafe’s number in an ad that was posted on a bulletin board inside the only library on kildare island. she decided to give him a call when his flyer stated that he offered aid to those who required a little help enrolling in school, tutoring, and any other academic services that may be needed. seeing as bitchy!pogue!reader wanted to start going to school for fashion and business, she saved the piece of paper with rafe’s number and stuffed it at the bottom of her purse and forgot all about it until she got back home. “i would love to help you, would you say you’re available to meet tomorrow at the library around two o’clock in the afternoon?” he asked, scribbling down her information once she agreed to meet.

NERD!RAFE X BITCHY!POGUE!READER who were both taken aback once they were sitting next to each other. bitchy!pogue!reader couldn’t help but flirt with him once she found nerd!rafe incredibly charming and sweet, the glasses sitting high up on the bridge of his nose making him look innocent and a tad bit shy. nerd!rafe on the other hand is absolutely enthralled and terrified at the same time when he saw a bombshell like bitchy!pogue!reader approaching him in nothing but a push-up bra, a bodycon dress, and pink pleaser heels adorning her feet. “are you rafe?” on top of him being star struck, he also loved the sound of her voice, its sugary sweet tone making his heart beat erratically in his chest. everything about her, from the body glitter sparkling against her skin, to the cotton candy scent of her perfume, he was obsessed.

NERD!RAFE X BITCHY!POGUE!READER who began seeing each other everyday, both of them going over test prep, material checklists and enrollment forms. “do you have any tech equipment by any chance? you know, so you could do homework or get a headstart on any assignments?” she blinked at him, pulling out her outdated pink blackberry. “i just have this.” rafe nodded, eyes flickering between her glossy lips and the small device in her hands. “okay.. well, i’ll make sure that changes soon.” without knowing what he meant by that, she was in for the shock of her life when rafe surprised her the next day with a macbook pro and an ipad. “i don’t normally do this.. like ever— but i want you to have the proper learning tools to help you out. i truly believe you have so much potential.” bitchy!pogue!reader kissed him when she accepted the gifts, having never been supported like this before.

NERD!RAFE X BITCHY!POGUE!READER who often get distracted from their studies due to bitchy!pogue!reader’s advances. yawning, she’ll reach back and stretch her arms up until the hem of her crop top reveals the underside of her tits, the pretty, plump swells of her breasts making nerd!rafe’s cheeks turn bright red. “i think we should take a break..” she’d suggest, resting her hand on top of his thigh underneath the table. rafe was a nervous wreck anytime she was in close proximity with him, let alone when her hands were on him, he couldn’t help the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead as her manicured fingers inched closer and closer to where he ached for her with need. “i-i don’t think that’s appropriate to do here— oh..” nerd!rafe panicked internally when she palmed the growing bulge in his trousers, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he surrendered to her touch.

NERD!RAFE X BITCHY!POGUE!READER who celebrate all of her academic victories; both big and small. “alright, let me see..” rafe would be scrolling through her school portal, her grades illuminating the screen as he looked over the numbers. pacing nervously behind him, she’d squeal in excitement when rafe would cheer her on, his chest filling with pride as she took a seat in his lap, pressing kisses to his cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “see how smart you are, doll? i told you that you could do it.” he’d praise her, his words melting her heart. bitchy!pogue!reader was so used to everyone telling her that she should just worry about what her next nail set should look like and not about going to school or starting her own little fashion line. “you’re the only person that has listened to my ideas and took me seriously..” she pouted up at him, “how could i ever thank you for that?”

[hexescore]

hey, hey, let's match!

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: little snippets of matching items with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.

❀ ◞ author note: this is my first time writing for the arcane characters, so i hope i wrote them well! please enjoy!

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

bracelet or ring

The silver band was wrapped perfectly around Caitlyn's wrist, catching the light as she pulled her hair back into a high pony tail. She had come home later than usual and despite claiming she'd do better and work/life balance, she picked up right where she left off at work.

"Cait?" You call, peaking your head into her little workspace, seeing she's hung up a few new leads on her bulletin board. "Dinner's done," You walk further into the space, glancing around. It looked different than the last time you'd been in there, messier.

"Mmhm, I'll be there in a minute," She murmurs, "Just got a few more things to take care of..." You nod in acknowledgment, but don't leave. Instead you glance around the room some more, inspecting random but meticulously put together files and pictures.

Finally, you've made your way to where she sits in her leather desk chair, your hand gently touching her shoulder. She tenses at the sudden contact, but almost as quickly melts into your touch. She tilts her head just enough to press a kiss to your hand- her eyes catching the matching silver bracelet you wore. Despite it being subtle, the fact you two are matching causes her to grin, little butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "It's your favorite," You refer back to the dinner you mentioned, "Let's eat together."

Blue eyes trail from the silver band up to your eyes, and she bites her cheek to hold back from cooing at how much she adores you. "Alright," She sighs, pressing another kiss to your hand before packing up her work. She'll have time to do it later.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

small couple trinket set.

The smooth, wooden surface of the little cat trinket in Ekko's jacket calms his mind long enough for him to find his footing. It's not often, but when the responsibilities and fear of failing start piling up, Ekko's anxiety reaches peak. When his thumb runs over the cool wood of the trinket though he's able to calm his mind and remember back to a better moment.

"Isn't it cute? It looks like you, don't you think?" You tease as you hold the pouty looking cat trinket up to his face. You almost choke on a laugh at the way his expression matches the cat so perfectly. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at your antics as he spots the matching trinket. He picks up the other cat and smirks, holding up the cat to your face.

"Now that's a match." He says, and when you peak at the cat it's got a rather confused and dumbfounded look on it's face. You scoff, grumbling that you do not look like that. He chuckles as you set the cat down in defeat, moving on to the next stall. As you're distracted, he picks up the matching trinket set and buys them to surprise you with later.

He'll never forget the way you lit up as he handed you the cat that apparently "looked like him." Your giddy, child-like smile as you accepted it and proudly declared you named it 'Ekko Jr.' before informing him you'll 'treasure it forever and ever.' He then promptly showed you the matching piece, which you rolled your eyes at but ever so graciously allowed him to keep. Yeah, a better moment to remember.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

outfits.

"You two truly are disgusting." Viktor commented, with no malice, as you and Jayce entered the lab. Jayce just held a grin akin to a child in a candy store on his face as he looked over your outfit again- which matched his perfectly. It was surprising how many outfits Jayce coordinated in order to match you in some way or another.

"You're just jealous." Jayce held his head high with pride, turning to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'll pick you up later, okay?" You smile, leaning into the kiss and soaking up what warmth you could from him. Anyone who saw you two would surely get a tummy ache at how sweet the moment was.

"I'll be the one in the matching outfit." You chuckle, your laughter only growing at Viktor's faux vomiting. You decide to leave willingly before you were forced out, but not before giving Jayce quick peck on the lips. You run away as you hear a playful argument rise between the two.

"Seriously, how many outfits can you possibly match together?" Viktor sighs, shaking his head as he turns to continue his work.

"All of them." Jayce says earnestly, almost too prideful to not have a single article of clothing that doesn't have a matching counterpart to yours.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

nail polish.

It was easy to be captivated by Jinx, her voice like the lure of a siren, as she chats away about her day to you. She only gets this way because she trusts you, which in turns makes your own walls come down. Your eyes closed as you relax in her presence. Last time she had convinced you to match nail polish with her, a subtle way to claim you as hers to those in Zaun who eye you, thus you lay with your hand in hers.

Eventually she runs out of things to say and begins to just hum random tunes as the brush of the nail polish runs along your fingernails in a precise motion- as if she was painting on her newest creations. "Pink, blue, pink, blue~" When she's done she blows on them to help dry them faster.

"Jiiinx, that tickles," you whine, causing her to eye you with a mischievous smirk. At the quiet, you peak an eye open, which you regret as that's when Jinx pounces, straddling your lap and tickling you with a menacing laughter escaping her lips. "N- No! St- Stop! Please! I c- can't!" You squeak between laughing, thrashing around as she continues her attack- eventually you manage to get her off, but she looks ready to lunge at you any time.

"If you keep it up I won't let you finish my nails-" You lightly threaten, which causes her to hesitate, but she ultimately decides that maybe you could pull off a one-handed nail polish thing before attacking you again.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

stationery (pen).

It was a beautiful fountain pen with gold accents, and along the side in beautiful calligraphy was engraved 'forever.' It was by far Mel's favorite pen, it wrote smoothly, was beautiful to look at, but even more than that, it was a reminder of why she did what she did. For at home there was a matching counterpart to this pen, engraved with 'and always,' that always had her thinking about you.

Late nights had long since become a part of her routine, but the pen weighed heavy, like a message for her to wrap up her work before it got too late, and head home into the loving arms of you. So that's what she did. Mel wrapped up the last of her paperwork for the day before leaving, the commute home quiet as she fiddles with the pen, thinking of what you did throughout the day.

She smiled as she thought about how you'd greet her home, wrap your arms around her, kiss her. You'd pull her into the dining room and tell her about your day, chatting over dinner. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when the carriage pulled up outside her estate.

It wasn't until your head peaked out the door that she was pulled out of her daydream, tucking the pen safely into her purse. She exited the carriage, her tired and weary body carrying her towards you until she was inside, ready to finally relax after a long, hard day.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

whiskey glasses.

Idiots. She swore everyone she had to work with were idiots and purposely made her work harder to do. Sevika was much too ready to return home, and upon doing so, pulled out the matching whiskey glasses. You entered the room, sitting yourself on to the kitchen counters.

"That bad, huh?" You ask, accepting her offer and taking the whiskey glass. She sighs, shaking her head. She didn't even know where to begin, but she decided on pouring herself a glass was a good start. You listen to her complaints, your finger outlining the simple design on the glass. Yours and Sevika's initials engraved into the glass- a gift from a friend.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink after she finishes telling you about her day, and you decide to bring over the bottle as you sit with her on the couch. "Whatever, I don't want to think about it anymore." She grumbles, taking the bottle and taking a swig from it. She wraps her mechanical arm around you, pulling you in closer to her.

"Tell me about your day instead," She insists, watching the way you try to mimic her in taking a swig of your drink- it goes down less smoothly than Sevika made it out to be. She chuckles at the way you cough a little, and then at the way you throw her a glare. She's quiet though, when you finally tell her about your day. It's these small moments that have her thinking about just how lucky she is.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

keychain.

"Vik, look at this!" You call him over, holding up the matching keychains for him to see. They were in the shape of puzzle pieces, and when they got close, they connected with a magnet. "Aren't these cute?" You hand them over to him and he looks over them inquisitively.

"Very," He says, before looking up at you with a small smile. "Should we get them?" He asks, though he already knew the answer. You try to act nonchalant, shrugging your shoulders and saying if 'he wanted to you two could get'em' but it was obviously all an act.

"I don't think we could leave without them." Viktor chuckles, because if there was anything Viktor loved more than his work it was indulging your whimsy. Thus the keychains were promptly bought and put to use. It was the only "fun" keychain on Viktor's, which only made it all the more special to you.

"Wait, but now we have to separate them," You realize, feeling a little guilty for forcing the two puzzle pieces to be away from each other. Viktor sighs, holding his half of the puzzle piece up for you to connect.

"It matters not the time they spend apart, as they're made for each other, and will inevitably always meet in the end."

Did he not realize he just said the most romantic thing to you? And now he's shocked you're tearing up? smh

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VI

boxing gloves.

"One, two, one, two," Hitting the striking pads, Vi stood sturdy despite you putting your full force into each hit. Breathless, sweaty, and pretty tired, Vi decides a break is well in order for you both. You thank whatever god took mercy on you and take off your boxing gloves as you search for your water.

"Hey, babe..." Vi is rummaging around in her duffle bag, the crease between her brown deepening as what she searches for continues to evade her. "Did you take my gloves?" You look up at her, before looking down at the gloves. Inside on the label, written in sharpy, is the name 'VI' clearly written.

Sheepishly you hand them back to her, "Sorry, I thought they were mine," You say, now wondering where you last put the matching boxing gloves Vi had gotten you last year. In retrospect, Vi realizes that maybe getting you the exact same pair would inevitably lead to this situation.

"Nah, it's fine. I like when you wear my stuff anyways." She teases, enjoying the way you grow flustered at her words. She always had to say something in order to mess with you, and sadly for you, it always worked.

[silvergyus]

paper hearts- c.sb

pairing: kindergarten teachers! soobin x reader

summary: you and soobin teach kindergarten classes across the hall from each other. when the day to hand out cards finally arrives, you notice one card in your mailbox that’s not like the others

warnings: this fic is all-ages!/ a kindergartener falls at recess/ odi is still alive because I think teacher soobin with a pet hedgehog is adorable

word count: 2,400+

author’s note: part of my valentine's day event!

song rec: valentine- laufey

Paper hearts lined the hallway bulletin boards, shades of pink, red and white signaling to all who passed through what holiday was soon approaching. Holidays, spirit days, and any big event of the like were your not-so-secret favorite part of your job. You loved cutting construction paper into new shapes, stapling themed borders to your announcement boards and finding new crafts for your students to create. You’d been a kindergarten teacher for years now, and viewed each group of students as a new opportunity to create lasting memories for them to look back on as they continued through school. You taught because you loved your students, loved helping them discover a love of reading, loved seeing their eyes grow wide as they watched a caterpillar burst from its chrysalis transformed into a butterfly. You loved their curious eyes and silly takes on arts and crafts. In short, you loved the kids. But the holiday decorating, that was an extra bonus that made you love the job even more. And this year, there was an extra special bonus.

Across the hall from you taught Mr. Choi, or Soobin, as you called him in the teachers’ lounge. Tall and handsome, he had a way with the kids that most didn’t. He had a natural softness that made the kids feel safe, a charm that made them laugh, and a way of explaining things that made them understand the world in a whole new light. There weren’t many male teachers in your elementary school, and as embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help but crush on Soobin.

He didn’t make it any easier for you either, standing by you during recess when you went outside to watch the kids play, sitting by you at lunch, asking you about your students, what books you’d been reading, even showing you pictures of his pet hedgehog. His careful attention made your heart flutter, and you desperately wished you could see him outside of work.

With Valentine’s approaching, you couldn’t help the hopeless romantic in you from daydreaming about having him as your Valentine.

—

Monday, February 10th

You slid into your usual chair in the teachers’ lounge, reheated leftovers from the weekend on the table in front of you. Pulling out your current read from your bag, you dug in, relaxing into the quiet. The brief moment of solace was soon interrupted as Soobin sat down across from you, his long legs bumping into yours beneath the table. He quietly apologized for the unintentional invasion of personal space but you didn't mind, not when it was him.

You asked how his day’s been so far, tell him your kids have also been bouncing off the walls, excited for the holiday. Taking a sip of his drink, he replied that he’s sure your kids are more excited than his, your classroom being decorated so much more than his. You could feel your cheeks heat at the compliment, appreciating the recognition of your secret passion.

“So um,” he cleared his throat between words, “do you have plans for Valentine’s?”

“You mean besides my hot date with twenty five-year-olds?” You laughed, stirring your leftovers. “Nah, I'm gonna read the cards they give me and eat leftover candy on my couch probably.” You took a bite and looked at Soobin, “it's all I ever do for Valentine's.”

He smiled empathetically, the left side of his mouth quirking up first to show his dimple. “Yeah, that's probably all I'll be doing.”

Part of you wanted to seize the moment, suggest the two of you hang out, go out, or eat half-melted chocolates together. But before you could speak, Miss B- who taught second grade- sat down next to you and very excitedly began to tell you about her newest sewing project. The moment was over, but when you looked back at Soobin, his eyes were still on you.

—

Tuesday, February 11th

Twenty students napped on their vinyl pull-out mats. The lights in your classroom were dimmed, blinds turned shut to keep out the afternoon light, the tip-tap of your fingers on your keyboard the only sound heard over the quiet rise and fall of tired breaths. A soft knock at your door pierced the quiet, drawing the attention of the few kids not sleeping. You slowly stood, smiling to calm the little ones that have stirred before peeking through the glass to see who the visitor is.

Soobin stood on the other side of the door, smiling sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. You cracked the door open slightly, stepping into the hall so as to not further disturb your students with your conversation. 

“Soobin!” you whispered excitedly, still trying to keep your voice down during naptime. “What’s up? Do you need something?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was here for naptime?” He smiled at his own joke and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered when his dimples pressed into his cheeks. He shook his head before whispering back, “I actually need to borrow your glue sticks.”

“My glue sticks?”

“We have arts and crafts next and I had to throw half mine away last week after one of my students took a bite out of them.” He grimaced at the memory and you stifled a laugh, hand coming up to cover the sound. “Purple glue was everywhere! It was a disaster; I had to call his parents!” His whispers were desperate, only making you laugh more.

When you recovered from your threatening giggle fit you took a breath, smoothing down your shirt. “Yes, you can borrow my glue sticks. But, I expect to get them back without bite marks.”

A smile brightened his face and butterflies filled your stomach again. “Lemme go get them.”

“Thank you! I owe you!”

—

Wednesday, February 12th

You waited with your students as their parents arrived to pick them up, occasionally bending to tie a shoe or zip up a backpack, reminding everyone to stay away from the curb until their grown ups were ready for them. You looked down the line of approaching vehicles and locked eyes with Soobin. He quickly looked away, turning his attention back to his students, but you couldn’t help the heat that rose in your chest. How long had he been looking at you?

You waited a little longer that day, holding hands with one of your students as she waited for her dad, running late from work. Once she was finally on her way home, you made your way back inside the building, eager to grab your things and go home.

Across from your classroom the lights were still on in Soobin’s room. You couldn’t help but peek inside, still buzzing from catching him staring. His door was shut, and when you peered through the glass, you could see him at his desk, mouth twisted in focus as he held a glue stick and sheet of dark red paper.

—

Thursday, February 13th

Recess was dusted with a flurry of fresh snowflakes. The kids were eager to get out onto the playground, and you were on edge as you kept an eye on everyone, making sure no one slipped on hidden ice or threw snowballs at someone else’s head. Your students loved when it snowed, but you wished today had been an inside recess. Fresh snow always meant someone got hurt.

It was no later than you thought it then you heard the sound of crying. Every teachers’ head whipped in the direction of the cries, and you watched as Soobin ran towards his student sitting on the blacktop, cradling her arm. You approached him, concern washing over you. Other students tugged on your coat, asking what happened. You comforted them, telling them to give the girl some space while Mr. Choi figured out what was wrong.

Soobin’s voice was gentle as he spoke to the girl, asking her what happened and where it hurt. Through tears she said she slipped and now her elbow hurt. He picked up her hat from where it fell during her fall and placed it gently on her head. “Only your elbow, right? Your legs feel okay?”

The girl nodded, slowly calming under Soobin’s careful attention. “Do you think you can stand up for me? I’ll go with you to the nurse’s office and we’ll make sure that you feel better.” The girl nodded again, wiping away tears with her tiny pink mitten. Soobin took her non-injured hand in his and began slowly walking inside, careful to lead the girl away from the patch of ice that had caused her fall.

“Can you watch my students while I take her inside?”

“Of course.” 

You spent the rest of the day replaying the moment in your head. Soobin’s quick reaction, his careful attention, the way he calmed her almost instantly. It made you feel a warm, almost domestic affection towards him. You had to keep your mind from wandering, from imagining if he would be the same as a father.

After school that day you asked Soobin about the girl.

“She’ll be alright. Nurse thinks it’s just a bruise, but the parents are taking her to the doctor to make sure she didn’t break anything. She wasn’t even crying anymore when her mom picked her up.”

You sat down in the tiny kids’ chair in his classroom, knees coming up to your chest. “That’s good. I was worried about her.”

“Yeah, it was scary.”

“You’re really good with the kids you know.” Your voice was heavy with sincerity. “They adore you.” You picked at a stray fabric on your pants as you spoke next. “We all do.”

He looked into your eyes after you spoke, holding your gaze, starting a fire in your chest. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.”

You stood, wanting to diffuse the intensity of the moment. “If I ever slip on the ice, I hope that you’re there to pick me up.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll make sure I catch you before you fall.”

It might be too late for that, you thought.

—

Friday, February 14th

The kids all chattered over one another as they opened the Valentines they shared with one another, a nostalgic Charlie Brown special playing in the background. They couldn’t possibly sit still and watch the movie after snacking on frosted cookies and heart-shaped chocolates all afternoon. Their crafted mailboxes from earlier in the week were now stuffed with treats from their classmates and teacher. Your mailbox was also stuffed with cards, lollipops and gifts from thankful parents. You weren’t going to open them until after school, as per your tradition.

The school day ended on a high note, lots of giggles and excited little ones running to show their cards to their parents at pickup. You waved goodbye to all of them with a full heart before retreating from the cold back to the warmth of your classroom.

Slumping into the oversized bean bag chair in the reading corner, you began to rifle through your mailbox of Valentines, looking for something sweet as a pick-me-up before you tidied up and went home. At the bottom of the box sat one Valentine that stood out from the rest. Instead of store-bought cards with cartoons, or handmade cards still sticky with purple glue, this one was expertly put together, dark red cardstock folded into a perfect heart with white lace decorating the edges. “Be my Valentine?” it read in the neat script of an adult across the front. If this was from a parent, it was awfully personal. You opened the card with apprehension, not sure what you would find inside. In the same white pen it read “from your secret admirer in 2B.”

2B? That was the classroom across from yours, Soobin’s classroom. Your heart raced. This card was from him? A Valentine? This must have been what you saw him working on the other day. A Valentine for you?

Did this mean he liked you back? Maybe it was something he did for all the other teachers. But if it was just a friendly Valentine between coworkers, then why did he sign it “from your secret admirer”? You had to ask him about it.

You stuffed the other cards back into the box, shuffling to get up out of the beanbag. At that moment, Soobin walked past your open door, heading towards his classroom. You called his name, still struggling to stand. He turned, eyes wide, towards you. You walked towards him, card in hand. His ears flushed as you held the Valentine up. “Is this from you?”

“I was hoping that you’d open those at home.”

“I wanted a snack before I drove home.”

You took in the way he shifted his weight between his feet, hands itching towards his pockets, ears growing redder by the second. “Did you make anyone else a card?”

He shook his head, lips twisting into a small pout. “Just you.”

“I should’ve made you one.” Your voice was quiet, hoping he read into what you really meant.

His eyes shot up from where they had been focused on the floor tiles, finding your gaze and holding it. “So you don’t think I’m overstepping?”

“Oh my gosh no! I actually thought it was from a parent at first, and that would’ve been weird and overstepping, but I um,” you paused, scared to admit the secret you’d been harboring since the fall. “I actually really hoped you’d ask me to be your Valentine.”

His eyes lit up like a puppy’s, a smile breaking over his face, dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. “Me too.”

You laughed, he was just too cute not to. “Well I really should’ve made you a card then.”

He shook his head, stepping closer. He reached for your hands, holding them in his much larger ones. His skin was soft against yours, and you could barely focus on his face when every cell that touched his felt like a tiny firework. “It is still Valentine’s Day, you know. We could always celebrate without twenty kids hyped up on sugar.”

“You’re saying that like the twenty kids aren’t what makes it fun.” You smiled at him, heart swelling at the thought of finally getting to spend time with Soobin outside of work. “But I would like that very much.”

“Let’s go, right now. Let’s go somewhere.”

“Right now? Won’t we need a reservation though? It’s Valentine’s day, and a Friday night.”

He paused, enthusiasm faltering. “Well, true, but we’ll find something.”

“Even if we don’t,” you smiled, squeezing his hand in yours, “this is already my favorite Valentine’s Day.”

Just like that, you finally had a Valentine.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire @notyourjaem @https-yeonjun @mapofthemazeinthemirror @ohhdet

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[st3f13ily]

EXTRA CREDIT

• Reverse Romance Trope

• Academic rivals but two teachers are competing for the best class.

• English Teacher Itoshi Rin x Math Chaotic Teacher Reader

• Sorry for my disappearance, and I'm also sorry for not posting some Blue Lock High Au for a while, I have some drafts but it needs more editing.

Rin Itoshi hated mornings, but he hated them even more when they began with glitter.

There it was again—sparkling, infuriating, and somehow shaped like a smiley face—stuck to his freshly printed poetry analysis worksheets. It winked up at him like it knew exactly what it was doing. He stood in front of the copier, shoulders squared and jaw tight, staring blankly at the page, wondering at what point in his otherwise meticulously controlled life things had gotten so... stupid.

He lifted the next sheet. Another smiley face. And the next. And the next. All glimmering, obnoxiously cheerful, and completely unprofessional. It was like the ghost of a kindergarten art project had cursed his part of the English department.

He didn't need to check to know who was responsible.

Ms. (L/N) (Y/N), the math department's human equivalent of a sugar rush, had probably used the copier before him and left behind an explosion of joy and chaos. Again.

Rin exhaled slowly through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching—not in amusement, but in the barely restrained fury of a man who had already dealt with glitter once this week. And it was only Tuesday.

He glanced over at the copier like it had personally betrayed him. A few sparkles clung to the tray, proof of the crime committed. There was even a rogue sequin stuck in the crack of the feed tray. Of course, there was. She'd probably printed her ridiculous fraction bingo cards or whatever it was she passed off as curriculum, leaving behind a trail of sparkle like some kind of budget fairy godmother.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to crumple the glitter-stamped worksheets and toss them into the recycling bin. But no. He was above that. He was mature. Professional.

This was war.

You on the other hand twirled a dry-erase marker between your fingers, practically bouncing on your toes as your students worked through an activity. It was your favourite lesson: probability through a board game you created yourself, complete with dice, candy rewards, glittery laminated cards, and ridiculous trivia questions. Your classroom was filled with laughter, fake arguments, and occasional screams of victory. One group was in a heated debate about whether Skittles or M&Ms had better odds in the candy round, while another was trying to bribe you for bonus rolls.

Exactly how you liked it.

Your bulletin boards sparkled, the math puns on the walls made even the grumpiest student groan-laugh, and the scent of watermelon-scented markers perfumed the air. The soundtrack of your teaching life was upbeat music, crinkling candy wrappers, and your students yelling things like "PROBABILITY GODDESS! I ROLLED A SIX!"

And then—

The door creaked open.

Rin Itoshi's tall, brooding figure filled the doorway like a looming thundercloud over a birthday party.

He didn't step in. He didn't need to. Just one glare swept through the chaos of your candy-colored classroom like a freeze ray. A few students paused mid-roll. One kid dropped their D20 and whispered, "Oh no. It's him."

"(L/N)." Rin said, voice cool and flat as ever.

You blinked innocently, twirling the marker like a baton. "Yes, Mr. Itoshi?"

He held up a sheet of paper between two fingers like it was contaminated. On it, clear as day, was your glitter-smiley signature watermark—stamped right onto his poetry analysis worksheet.

"You're contaminating shared surfaces." he said, in the same tone one might use to report a toxic spill.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart and staggering back a step like he'd just confessed his undying love. "Rin, you've finally admitted we’re sharing things. I’m honoured. Truly."

His jaw clenched. "I mean the copier."

"Semantics," you chirped, unbothered. "Still sharing."

He didn’t even blink. "There's glitter on my handouts. My students were blinded by a smiley face. One of them asked if it was a metaphor."

You pretended to swoon. "Your class is finally developing critical thinking skills. You’re welcome."

There was a pause. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

"You need to be more careful." he said.

You gave him a dazzling smile. "I was careful. I only used the pink glitter. You should see what happens when I use the holographic one."

"Don't."

"Too late." you sing-songed.

His eyes narrowed into slits of academic rage. He turned without another word.

And you?

You grinned like the cat who'd just knocked over the teacher’s coffee mug.

"Have a mathemagical day, Mr. Itoshi Rin!" you called sweetly.

He kept walking.

As he left you now turned to your wide eyes and mouth students. "Alright, so where were we?"

One of them raised their hand. "Yes?" You respond to the girl whose face is full of curiosity.

"Are you two dating?"

"I'm sorry what?"

Their rivalry was infamous among the faculty. Rin, the ever-serious English teacher, ran a class so silent you could hear a pencil drop. The kind of silence that screamed discipline and demanded respect. His students, wide-eyed and reverent, took notes as if their academic futures depended on it—and honestly, they might have. He was a force of sharp glances and precision.

You, on the other hand, were the hurricane that blew down the hallway every morning with a travel mug in one hand and a pile of colourful worksheets in the other. Your math classroom was chaos in the most educational sense—music playing softly in the background, students laughing over group activities, candy being passed around like currency, and posters with memes explaining calculus plastered across every surface. It was loud. Unapologetically so. And you loved it.

It started innocently enough. Simple, professional competition. Who had the better class test scores? Whose students performed better in school-wide competitions? Who got mentioned more in the yearbook superlatives? (You were voted "Most Likely to Start a Flash Mob"; Rin was crowned "Scariest When Angry.")

But slowly, steadily, it escalated. The rivalry evolved into something far pettier. And far more personal.

The tension had been brewing all week, ever since the principal announced Teacher Swap Day—an annual event where two teachers temporarily switched classes for one period to "foster interdisciplinary learning." For most of the staff, it was a fun tradition. For you and Rin, it was a declaration of war.

He was assigned to teach your bubbly, sugar-fueled math class. You were handed his solemn, poetry-loving English students.

Neither of you took it well.

"They're going to eat him alive," you whispered gleefully to your students the morning of the swap.

"Try not to let your emotions show on your face," Rin deadpanned to his class. "Even if the math teacher starts tap dancing."

The bell rang. You adjusted your bright cardigan, grabbed your dry erase markers, and strutted into Room 3B—Rin's domain.

Silence.

Twenty sets of eyes stared back at you, stone-faced. No fidgeting. No chatting. The scent of serious academia hung in the air like a storm cloud.

You grinned. "Alright, you lovely literary scholars. Today, we're doing probability... with dice, candy, and competitive chaos."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed a few faces.

Meanwhile, Rin stepped into your classroom.

A student immediately yelled, "Are you here to take over the world, Mr. Itoshi?"

Another passed him a friendship bracelet. Someone else offered him a Capri Sun.

He stared, dead-eyed. "Today, we're analyzing sonnets. Sit down."

Back in his class, you were trying to break the ice. "Let's say we roll a six-sided die. What's the probability of landing on an even number?"

A student raised a hand. "Miss, will this be graded based on effort or accuracy?"

You blinked. "Uh... Both?"

He nodded seriously and began calculating with textbook precision.

You muttered, "Rin's raised an army of overly competent robots."

Over in your room, Rin stood before a whiteboard covered in doodles, glitter residue, and a quote that said, 'Math is just number poetry.'

He erased it. "No, it isn't."

Your students gave him side-eyes. One brave soul whispered, "Miss (L/N) lets us write poems in the shape of cats."

Rin twitched.

He turned, arms crossed. "You're writing traditional sonnets. Fourteen lines. Iambic pentameter."

Groans echoed.

Meanwhile, you were standing in front of a graph projected on the board, your usual jokes falling flat. The students followed everything with unnerving efficiency.

You paced, muttering under your breath. "Okay, maybe they're not robots. They're just... terrifyingly competent."

In your class, Rin held up a poetry book. "This is 'Ozymandias.' It's about pride, ambition, and the inevitable fall of great empires."

A girl raised her hand. "So like Miss (L/N)'s candy kingdom?"

Rin paused. ".....Exactly like that."

Later, you both slammed the door open at the same time, leaving the class and now meeting at the hallway.

You: "Your students are brilliant, emotionally repressed machines!"

Rin: "Yours are sugar-fueled goblins with a cult-like devotion to you."

You pointed a finger. "Are you jealous they gave me a macaroni art trophy that says 'Best Math Wizard'?"

He pulled out a folded haiku. "Your student wrote this about me. It’s titled 'Grumpy Cat in a Cardigan.'"

He paused.

You looked up, expecting a snarky comment.

Instead, he said, "Your students did well. They were... confident. Happy."

You blinked. "That sounded dangerously like a compliment."

Rin leaned against the table. "It's not a weakness to be liked."

"Are you okay? Did the poetry corner run out of existential dread?”

He almost smiled. Almost.

Then he surprised you again.

"Why do you always try so hard to make it fun?" he asked.

You shrugged. "Because math was scary to me once. I don't want it to be that way for them."

He looked at you, and this time, there was no smirk, no sharp edge. Just quiet understanding.

You blinked. "...Why do you teach, Rin?"

He was silent for a long moment.

"Because I didn't think I had anything to say. But books taught me otherwise. So now I make sure my students always have something to say. Even if they whisper it."

You were quiet then. The rivalry, the teasing, the chaos—it all suddenly felt like a front. Like a weird, overly-decorated mask you both wore because it was easier than admitting the truth.

You respected each other.

Maybe even liked each other.

"You wanna get coffee?" you asked.

Rin blinked. "Now?"

"Sure. We can talk about how I'm going to crush you at the next department challenge."

He rolled his eyes, but he grabbed his coat.

"Fine. But if there's glitter on my coffee, I'm quitting."

You grinned. "No promises."

"I swear I'm gonna crush you, your little mathematics brain is gonna turn traumatic."

"Whatever 🙄"

But you two had one thing in mind: I need to make my class better.

Somewhere down the hall, your student whispered to her friend, who is Rin's student.

"Told you they were in love."

"We should tell our classmates about what happened right now."

"I mean both our sections did team up just to make them love each other, even though our teachers won't admit it."

@pinkymangacaps @levihanmyotp

[mysterystarz]

kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical. 

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling. 

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish. 

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories. 

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography. 

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!) 

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression. 

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury. 

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.” 

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment. 

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction. 

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works. 

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place. 

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.” 

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision. 

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer. 

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you. 

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle. 

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm. 

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.” 

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke. 

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.” 

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.” 

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze. 

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down. 

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat. 

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place. 

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.” 

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?” 

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door. 

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?” 

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.” 

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation. 

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually. 

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” 

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name. 

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing. 

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice. 

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits. 

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door. 

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.  

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you. 

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills. 

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big. 

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere. 

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad. 

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.” 

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed. 

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.” 

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.” 

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you. 

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in. 

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!” 

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too. 

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks. 

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime. 

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?” 

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?” 

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.” 

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake. 

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash. 

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on. 

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.” 

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.” 

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable. 

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside. 

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake. 

This sucked ass. 

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along. 

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering,  you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when. 

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake. 

You could almost call it picturesque. 

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed. 

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you. 

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk. 

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte. 

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did.  “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.” 

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.” 

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.” 

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again. 

His presence had a way of putting you at ease. 

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you. 

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much. 

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings. 

What could be more human than that? 

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent. 

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.” 

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations. 

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better. 

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space. 

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness. 

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours. 

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out. 

A grand gym and an even grander boy. 

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit. 

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.” 

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.” 

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation. 

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.” 

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?” 

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you. 

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards. 

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.” 

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping. 

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion. 

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.” 

“We always love the extra coverage.” 

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was. 

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.” 

“Not true.” He huffed. 

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.” 

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager. 

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with. 

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.” 

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.” 

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?” 

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.” 

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.” 

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too. 

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean. 

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends. 

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky. 

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset. 

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings. 

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition. 

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it. 

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.” 

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit. 

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?” 

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.” 

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open. 

You weren’t sure what to say. 

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret. 

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper. 

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine. 

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.  

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity. 

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru. 

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face. 

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.” 

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression. 

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.” 

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees. 

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.” 

“It’s been here…?” 

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.” 

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?” 

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.” 

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.” 

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.” 

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.” 

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.” 

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.” 

“Mean. But seriously, why?” 

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless. 

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him. 

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin. 

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.” 

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over. 

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.” 

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually. 

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to. 

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.” 

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.” 

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face. 

The way he looked at you now was like worship. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think. 

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?” 

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours. 

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips. 

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt. 

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you. 

The way he held you was reverent. 

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much. 

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots. 

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up. 

He didn’t kiss and tell after all. 

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.” 

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could. 

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.” 

“Am I not allowed to have good days?” 

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?” 

“With my sets, yes.” 

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.” 

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking. 

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight. 

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him. 

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could. 

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through. 

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride. 

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning. 

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?” 

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.” 

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life. 

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness. 

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness. 

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!” 

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.” 

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you. 

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through. 

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.” 

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?” 

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.” 

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in. 

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully). 

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.” 

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously. 

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.” 

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together. 

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.” 

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.” 

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.” 

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?” 

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her. 

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty. 

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur. 

“When?” 

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you. 

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly. 

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.” 

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing. 

“Shush.” 

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house. 

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.” 

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did. 

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.” 

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.” 

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?” 

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.” 

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest. 

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like. 

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out. 

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.” 

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing. 

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag. 

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever). 

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth. 

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.” 

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside. 

“Wow. How did you know about the name?” 

“I have my sources,” you winked. 

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.” 

“So you do know.” 

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.” 

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you. 

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.” 

“We don’t have to right now.” 

“Thanks Tooru.” 

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.” 

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?” 

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.” 

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes. 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance. 

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.” 

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“ 

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.” 

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle. 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.” 

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.” 

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty. 

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively. 

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response. 

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.” 

Correction: something was horrifically wrong. 

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.  

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.” 

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to. 

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment. 

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?” 

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet. 

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.” 

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.” 

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.” 

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant. 

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus. 

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled. 

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame. 

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been. 

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.” 

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?” 

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.” 

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?” 

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.” 

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.” 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room. 

“Je suis fâché.” 

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.” 

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?” 

“Je ne veux pas continuer.” 

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again. 

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now. 

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move. 

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air. 

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth. 

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?” 

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.” 

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.” 

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.” 

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?” 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you. 

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you. 

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours. 

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this. 

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid. 

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall. 

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point. 

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him). 

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.” 

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up. 

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.” 

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react. 

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it. 

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.” 

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance.  I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.” 

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?” 

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad. 

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?” 

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling. 

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.” 

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile. 

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?” 

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today. 

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign. 

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually. 

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths. 

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop. 

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!” 

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!” 

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands. 

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations. 

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit). 

“This is pretty amazing, huh?” 

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.” 

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?” 

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound 

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.” 

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?” 

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.” 

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?” 

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure. 

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.” 

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool. 

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week. 

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you. 

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself. 

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.  

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa? 

You weren’t sure. 

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass. 

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit. 

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.” 

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money. 

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.” 

You snickered. “Not a chance.” 

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.” 

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row. 

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later. 

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line. 

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?” 

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.” 

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in. 

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands. 

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene. 

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today. 

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range. 

This was intriguing. 

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!” 

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.” 

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye. 

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.” 

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand. 

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable. 

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line. 

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line. 

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered. 

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?” 

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.” 

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra. 

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.” 

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand. 

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress. 

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said. 

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.” 

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. 

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him. 

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss. 

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you. 

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them. 

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was. 

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands. 

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. 

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession. 

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections. 

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe. 

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

masterpost

a list of my haikaveh meta in one place!

The Haikaveh Essay - Genshin Impact and Queercoding: Identifying Queercoding in Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship, 55k (Latest update: 15/07/2024) - Medium - PDF

Masterpost series of Alhaitham being endeared by Kaveh - Part 1 - The Archon Quest - Part 2 - A Parade of Providence - Part 3 - Kaveh's Hangout - Part 4 - Alhaitham's Story Quest - Bonus: Alhaitham being intolerable for attention - Bonus pt 2: Alhaitham being a romantic through actions

The Archon Quest - Camera angles: establishing Kaveh's importance to Alhaitham - The Archon Quest as a metaphor for Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship + the resolution in Cyno's Story Quest

A Parade of Providence (2023) - The ultimate analysis of how A Parade of Providence changes Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship - Miscommunication and misunderstanding: a call for change - <ask> Kaveh's reaction to The Traveller vs Alhaitham

Cyno Story Quest II (2024) - General Thoughts (Haikaveh/Cynonari) - The Improvement in Alhaitham and Kaveh's Relationship - Kaveh referring to Alhaitham's house as 'Home' and its significance - Reconciliation: Parallels between Alhaitham and Kaveh's research on The Temple of Silence and their abandoned thesis - Looking into the mirror: The balancing of Alhaitham and Kaveh's opposing viewpoints - The parallels between Alhaitham and Kaveh and Naphis and Cyrus - 'The Dead Past is the Living Present' quest title and its connection to Alhaitham and Kaveh - Analysing Alhaitham and Kaveh's body language in A Parade of Providence compared to Cyno's Story Quest II

An Odd Textual Mystery (2024) - Overall thoughts [Part 1] - Overall thoughts (analysis of the final scene with Alhaitham and Kaveh) [Part 2] - Alhaitham's curiosity around Kaveh being the catalyst for the event - How the event can relate to Alhaitham and Kaveh's past thesis - <ask> The further progression of Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship

Chromatic Ode of Candies and Roses (2024) - Overall thoughts - The scene blocking for Kaveh and Alhaitham's private conversation - The further development of Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship - Alhaitham and Kaveh as 'friends'

Miscommunication - Alhaitham's manner of expression - Port Ormos Bulletin Board analysis - The Omissions in Alhaitham's Character Stories - Alhaitham's Egoism in relation to Kaveh - Alhaitham and Kaveh's argument - <ask> Alhaitham and Kaveh complaining about each other and fandom misconception - <ask> Kaveh and Alhaitham's differing philosophies founding their friendship - <ask> How close were Kaveh and Alhaitham as students? - <ask> Who yearns harder, Alhaitham or Kaveh? (Part One, Part Two, Part Three)

Queercoding - The Double Entendre of 'Roommates': Madam Faruzan - Parallels Between Kaveh and His Mother: Companionship and Romance - Pride and Prejudice: Alhaitham's Story Quest in Relation to Kaveh - Alhaitham and Kaveh - not 'friends' but 'roommates'

Sumeru Bulletin Board Analyses - Mahamata Bulletin Board - Puspa's Cafe Message Board - Port Ormos Bulletin Board (revamped)

'Home' - Alhaitham as Kaveh's 'home' - Alhaitham and Kaveh As Each Other's Home and Family - <ask> Alhaitham and Kaveh as found family pre and post argument

Birthdays - Kaveh's letter: Home and Alhaitham (2023) - Alhaitham's Birthday art musings (2024) - Alhaitham's lack of Kaveh mention (2024) - Alhaitham's Birthday: Coffee and Domesticity (2025)

Other things of interest - <ask> Analysis of Alhaitham's Character Stories (the hidden sentiment) - <ask> Kaveh's Hangout: The implications of Cyrus knowing both Kaveh's and Alhaitham's parents - <ask> Alhaitham buying wine for Kaveh as an apology - <ask> Alhaitham and Kaveh as Teapot companions: similarities and differences

[birbleafs]

I really like how Alhaitham hung around long enough to listen to Kaveh’s concerns about Mehrak's disappearance, even listening to Kaveh discuss his candy tower designs—and all this when he's actually supposed to be busy working. And at one point, Alhaitham even led the way to the tavern Kaveh was supposed to meet the others, and he only left after Mehrak returned and Kaveh was feeling better true love lol. The popular interpretation that I've seen mostly on twitter is that Alhaitham had intentionally used work as an excuse to go all the way to Port Ormos simply because he knew Kaveh would be there, and that Alhaitham had set it all up just so that Kaveh would "accidentally" run into him. While that's seemingly plausible, I personally don't think that was the case here and would posit a different reading. Port Ormos may be quite a distance from Sumeru City but most of it is still under supervision and jurisdiction of the Akademiya. That is the main purpose of Wikala Funduq as the Akademiya's trading hub office, after all, to monitor trade and travel activity in and out of the port. I imagine that Alhaitham makes work trips to Port Ormos off and on, probably to collect research findings/materials from Wikala Funduq for further documentation and record-keeping, or perhaps to deliver trade ordinances he'd drafted out under the Akademiya's directives. There are also lines we can read on the Port Ormos bulletin board and NPC dialogues from the ship maintenance workers and the fishermen (Kira) that suggest Alhaitham visits Port Ormos enough for the locals to recognise him as the Akademiya's Scribe. So, presumably, Alhaitham was indeed there for work in this instance, and that Kaveh did indeed run into him by chance. And to be honest, I find this exceedingly funnier because Alhaitham has a reputation (which he's smug about) within the Akademiya for being someone who is extremely difficult to find, especially when he doesn't want to be found. But no matter how many times he manages to slip off and hide away like a cat, Kaveh is almost always that one person who can still serendipitously bump into him—either because Kaveh knows Alhaitham and his habits well enough to accurately guess where he would be hiding away or simply because the universe just cosmically wills it to be so LOL. (The other two instances I can recall where Alhaitham had gone off somewhere but Kaveh still finds him easily happened in Act 5 of the Sumeru AQ and the epilogue cutscene of An Odd Textual Mystery WQ. Including this one in the Sabzeruz Festival event, that makes it a total three times we see this happening in game canon). Anyway, I digressed hhjsdjsd but my original point was: Alhaitham didn't really have to accompany Kaveh to the meeting point at all. He could have just stayed put while they were talking in the streets. But no, Alhaitham decided to continue walking down the path while Kaveh was flustered, leading the way towards Djafar Tavern. And Alhaitham only turned around and went the opposite direction after Mehrak finally appeared and once Tighnari arrived. He stayed with Kaveh long enough until Kaveh's mood improved and until he was certain that Kaveh was reassured, and only then did he decide to head back to Sumeru City. I just think that's a nice subtle detail to demonstrate how Alhaitham looks out and cares for Kaveh in his own way :__)

[natti-ice]

The Blind Date- Sirius Black.

Pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader

Summary: Hogwarts annual valentines party has a twist. A test that pairs you with the best match

Warnings: written in third person (she/her pronouns) (1.6k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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Valentine's day.

The one day of the year card and candy companies thrive. Couples around every corner, corny love songs on the radio. The perfect day to make all single people feel bad.

This year at Hogwarts they have decided to do a cupid event. Sixth and seventh years who are interested, take a test to see which student they are most compatible with. Each pair can attend the valentine's party together the following week. Most students were excited to be paired with someone, and then there was Y/N,

"Come on Y/N it'll be fun." Lily Evans said dragging her friend into the great hall

"No no, it won't" Y/N protested

"And why is that?" the redhead questioned

"Going on a blind date isn't really my style"

"Lighten up Y/N, who knows maybe you'll meet the one" James Potter chimed in as he sat down wrapping his arm around his Girlfriend Lily

"Right, maybe you won't be so lonely. Honestly, it's getting depressing." Sirius Black said strolling alongside his best friend James.

"Shut up Black, Why are you two here anyway?" Y/N asked the boys

"I came to see my Lily flower" James gushed causing Sirius and Y/N to make faces. Earlier this year James and Lily became an official couple, Ever since they've been inseparable.

"Ew. I'm here because I don't have a date this year, couldn't pick one" Sirius said shrugging

"How humble of you" Y/N said sarcasm in her voice

"Attention please students," Dumbledore announced to the great hall. Heads turned to face him faces full of wonder. "As most of you are aware, we will be hosting a Valentine's party this 14th. For all the sixth and seventh years who are interested in being paired with a date, please see Professor Flitwick for a compatibility test"

"I think it's a great opportunity to put yourself out there Y/N" Lily said wanting to get her friend out of her comfort zone.

"Fine okay I'll do it" Y/N agreed in hopes to get Lily off her back about it. She hesitantly stood up, walking over to the growing line.

She hoped that she didn't get some creep who only tries to get in her pants. Please not Gilderoy Lockhart she thought. Patiently waiting to get the test, glancing around to see all who were in line. Turning around she comes face to face with Sirius Black.

"So who do you want to get?" Sirius asks her

"anyone, I don't care" she lied

"What if you get me?" he smirked

"okay anyone BUT you" she grinned at him

"Ouch, I'll have you know I am the best date anyone could have." he said pretending to be offended

"Oh yeah I bet" she said rolling her eyes. It was her turning in line, thanking the professor as he handed her the paper. Taking it back to her table to fill out the form, pulling out a quill. Filling in the basic information, name, grade, house.

Okay, first question "what's your favorite color?" she read in her head. Easy, Y/F/C. This won't take long, she thought.

She was right, it took her about 5 minutes to fill it out. Walking back up to the table to turn in her paper.

- February 13th

The day before Valentine's Day, the results of the test come out.

Nervously a group of kids walks up to the bulletin board to see who they've been paired with. Most were happy about their partner, others were nervous, some were just confused.

Y/N saw the crowd and knew the list must've been posted. She worked her way through the swarm of people to find her name, scanning it carefully.

Y/N L/N ..... Sirius Black

You have got to be kidding me, she mentally groaned. Of all people, it had to be him. Maybe she could get it changed before he found out. Moving through the sea of people once again.

"Well, it looks like we matched after all" Sirius said leaning up against the wall with his signature smirk.

"You seem awfully happy about this" Y/N said with a questioning eye.

"I just think it's kind of funny" he replied with his hands up in defense. "You seemed so confident we wouldn't be paired" Sirius said wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Did you copy my answers or something?" She lightly knocked off his arm.

"Of course not, I never cheat on test" he said defensively

"Really?" She furrowed her eyebrows

"Okay okay maybe once or twice but not on this, I swear" He crossed his heart "don't act like this is the worst thing that ever happened to you"

"It kind of is" she said playfully

"Oh please, do you know how many girls would kill to be you" he matched her tone

"They can have you"

"But in all seriousness, do you want to go to the party with me?" Sirius asked slightly hoping she'd yes

"Well" she sighed "I did promise Lily I would go with a date so, I'll go with you." She agreed

"Fantastic! I promise I'll make it worth your while" he grinned from ear to ear sending her a wink.

"I'll see you tomorrow then" Y/N says walking off

"It's a date!" Sirius yells into the hallway knowing he'd embarrass her

- "Are you excited about tonight Y/N?" Lily asked Y/N walking out of their last class of the day

"Terribly" she replied with a straight face.

"I'm sure you'll have a great time, but you know what this means right?" The redhead said with a mischievous smile

"What?"

"Make over time!" She was ecstatic

"Yay" she faked excitement. But honestly, a makeover didn't seem THAT bad

- As the night approached, the tension in the air rose. Everyone was nervous about this big group date the school has decided to have. What if it's totally lame and they're stuck with awkward conversation for hours?

"Okay, I'm ready to see myself now" Y/N said impatiently, antsy from sitting in a chair for so long

"Alright alright, open your eyes" Lily told her friend

Opening her eyes allowing them to adjust, glancing at herself in the mirror. Lily had only done light makeup that enhanced her already beautiful face. "Wow. I look quite pretty." Y/N said admiring Lily's work

"You always look pretty Y/N" Lily spoke genuinely "Now, go get dressed the boys will be here any minute"

Doing as told,  putting on an outfit she thought was "fancy" enough for the occasion. It was a school function so, not fancy at all.

A rapping on the door in an unrhythmic beat told the girls one thing. James is here.

Lily opens up the door and is greeted by 2 slightly spiffed young men. "Greetings miss Evans, are you prepared for our gala this evening?" James said in a posh accent. Taking her hand and kissing the back of it gently, causing Lily to blush

"Gross" Sirius commented "Is Y/N here?"

"Yeah she's just getting dressed"

"Hi boys" Y/N said walking out of the bathroom. Lily and James head out first leaving Sirius and Y/N alone.

"I must say, you look very beautiful tonight." Sirius told the girl

"Thank you, Mr. Black" she said mocking his friend

" Are you ready madam?" He offered her his arm

"Certainly" accepting his gesture

- As one could expect, school parties are lame. Sappy songs couples awkwardly slow dance to. That one teacher who thinks they're one of the kids. And of course the infamous punch bowl.

"I knew it would be bad but not this bad" Sirius cringed

"Most of the paired couples didn't even show up." Y/N stated

"Do you want to get out of here?" Sirius suggested

"Gladly"

Walking out of the hall, they figured out why some of the couples didn't show up. They were in the halls, snogging.

"Looks like Hogwarts is a great matchmaker after all" Y/N stated not sure to believe it or not.

"Yeah I guess you could say that" The boy replied

Wondering the halls, discussing the uncomfortable things that were seen at that said "party". Eventually, the two make their way into the Gryffindor common room. A few younger students were scattered around probably catching up on homework, sitting on the couch not knowing what to do. Sirius came up with an idea.

"How about a game of wizards chess?" He asked

"Sure, let's play" she agreed

"Good, if I win... I get to kiss you" Sirius said calmly

"You're crazy" Y/N said dismissing the entire idea

"C'mon, afraid you'll lose?" He challenged

"Alright Black you're on. If I win you have to run around the halls in a ballerina outfit, deal?"

"Deal."

- A tough neck and neck game of chess with great concentration and skill led to one's defeat. As Y/N's pawn captures Sirius' king, victory overcame her.

"Checkmate Black, time to get your tutu"

Accepting his defeat and holding his deal of the bargain, he ran around the school acting like a ballerina. He actually kind of liked it, but you didn't hear that from me.

Y/N's stomach hurt from laughing so much. She was glad he didn't get upset with the deal, he was so lighthearted and good-natured. It was hard not to like him.

After Sirius retired his ballet flats, it was already late. This "date" had come to an end, Y/N felt a little sad but didn't know why.

"I should probably go to bed, but I had fun tonight, really" Y/N smiled

"I'm glad you did, I thoroughly enjoyed your company" he brought back the fake posh accent. "Goodnight m'lady" he bowed

"Goodnight good sir" she curtsied.

"I still can't believe you beat me at chess, who knew you were so good" Sirius laughed

"We all have our secrets" she shrugged. Standing on her tippy toes giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Goodnight Sirius"

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

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[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 12 - 18

wc: 20.1K

note: this is the second to last chapter! i can't believe it! we're so close to the end, you guys :( honeytrev have a big week this one... some may say that this is the biggest week of them all. but i think i say that every chapter, so. that's for YOU to decide!

78:90 – HONEY

Honey takes a breath. The air washes over her knuckles. Her hands are twined together, the fingers on her left hand squeezing her right thumb while she chews on the nail of her left thumb, and she’s staring out the car window. They just turned off Providence Road and they’re just about two turns from the street where Honey grew up. All they have to do is turn on Fairview, then take the second right. Then, she’ll be home. Another deep breath. She closes her eyes. 

“You okay?” Trevor asks. He reaches over the console and slides his hand over Honey’s thigh. 

Honey sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest. She looks toward Trevor. “Nervous.” Her hands fall to her lap and unclasp, her right covering Trevor’s. 

He squeezes her thigh before turning his palm over and interlocking their fingers. “Don’t worry,” Trevor says. “I think everything will be okay. If it’s not, I’m here.”

“What if they’re not home?” Honey asks.

“I’m willing to stake out the house ‘til they get back.” Trevor shrugs and flicks on the turn signal. “Or we can give up and go home. There will be other summers and Thanksgivings and Christmases where we can see them. We don’t have to do this now if it doesn’t seem to work out.”

Honey reaches over with her free hand and fixes a strand of Trevor’s hair. He turns back to the road after daring to look at her for a moment longer. Honey keeps playing with his hair. They turn down the final street a minute later and Trevor parallel parks in front of her house.

The driveway is empty, but it always is. Unless they have company, of course. Honey’s parents prefer to park in the garage anyway. 

The dark gray siding on the house is the same as it was five years ago, the last time Honey saw it. They’ve painted the wooden front door from white to black, to match the shutters on the windows. The glass panes are clean, reflecting the lush yard that her father keeps.

The grass is mown in neat lines. The flowerbeds are bright with wildflowers, packets of which her mom used to dump into the dirt and wish for the best rather than taking delicate care of. The bushes are a little overgrown, as is the tree in the front lawn. Fifteen years ago, Honey would’ve spent a day like today outside. She would have hid in those bushes and climbed that tree and sat on the branches until her dad got home from work.

Her bedroom curtains, the left-most window on the second floor, are open.

She can imagine the rest.

Her bed is made. The pink bedspread she’s had since she was in fourth grade is folded over neatly and her favorite stuffed animal sits in the middle of the headboard, laying against the pillows. Her bookshelf is littered with chapter books and trinkets. The bulletin board above her desk is missing a spot. Several, actually, where the cork shows and the pins remain in place. There’s a scrap of paper captured by a blue thumbtack, torn from where Honey ripped a letter from Thomas away and put it down the garbage disposal in the kitchen. The only clothes in her closet are ones that she didn’t fit into at 17, when she moved away, and the white dress from her high school graduation. There’s a picture of her and Bea on Halloween in 2008, smiling over their bags of candy, tucked into the corner of her mirror.

“Any last words?” Trevor queries, gentle and teasing. He unbuckles the seatbelt for Honey, then his own, and leaves the car. He rounds the front and makes a face at Honey before he opens the passenger door and bends down to kiss her. 

Honey shakes her head, but pulls him back for another kiss when he leaves her lips too soon.

“Whatever happens in there,” Trevor murmurs. He tweaks her bottom lip with his thumb. “Doesn’t even matter. No matter what, I’m taking you to Chick-Fil-A to get Ice-Dream cones and Dokes for the ride back to Litchton.”

“Dokes,” Honey laughs. “Only Californians and pretentious people drink Diet Coke, Trevor.”

“And Bea,” Trevor adds.

Honey squints one eye and tilts her head. “Doesn’t she count as pretentious?”

Trevor grins. “Well, if you insist.” He takes Honey’s hand and leads her out of the car, closing the door behind her. “Christian and Stephanie, right?”

Honey smiles fondly at his effort, but shakes her head. “Christopher and Stephanie,” she corrects.

Trevor snaps his finger. “Damn it. I was so close. Good thing we cleared that up before I embarrassed myself.”

“I think they would introduce themselves anyway,” Honey says. 

They’re approaching the door now, walking up the stone-lined path, and they pause on the front stoep. Honey surveys the door. She’s standing just inches from it, but she can’t seem to find the energy to raise her fist and knock.

“I have a key, you know,” she says after a minute. She’s talking to Trevor, but really, she doesn’t need him to hear it. It’s more… like she’s stalling for time. 

“Oh, do you?” Trevor asks, sounding intrigued. “Do you want to use that instead of knocking?”

Honey laughs. “No, I don’t think so. That would be too normal.” She chews on the inside of her bottom lip. “I just have to knock.” She repeats the mantra in her head. All Honey has to do is knock. It’s not that hard.

Still, she doesn’t raise her fist. 

Trevor eyes Honey. “Do you want me to do it?” he offers.

All of Honey’s breath leaves her lungs in a rush of relief. “Would you?”

Trevor flashes his chipped tooth at Honey when his lips stretch upward and he nods. “‘Course, baby,” he says. He lifts his hand and knocks on the front door three times. The sound seems to echo and sink into Honey’s bones.

It isn’t long before she hears shuffling and footsteps behind the door. It’s her dad. She can tell by his footfalls.

He’s grayer than he was when she left. Honey supposes it makes sense. He was almost forty when she was born, so he’s past sixty now. When he opens the door, they stare at each other for a beat of silence.

“Honey,” he says. Honey can’t tell what he’s thinking– his face is impassive and his voice could fulfill a myriad of emotions: confused, surprised, intrigued, even a tinge of upset. Honey hopes it’s not that.

“Dad,” Honey replies. He’s wearing a shirt from their annual church Oyster bake. He got this shirt the year that he volunteered to be a shucker and Honey had to leave early with the McLean family because the seafood smell was making her sick. 

He blinks at her, then opens the door even wider. “Is everything okay?” His eyes flicker over to Trevor, then back to Honey. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yes, please,” Honey says. 

She knows the house like the back of her hand, even five years removed. Her dad leads them to the living room regardless and gestures toward the sofa. “Take a seat, Hon. Your mom isn’t home yet, she had to stay at work for a little while longer. We’re going to House of Pizza when she gets back, would you want to join us? I mean, it’s tradition, isn’t it?”

Honey sees the olive branch that he’s extending, but she can’t seem to take it quite yet. “We actually have dinner plans, but thank you.”

“Okay, no problem,”  her dad replies. He sits in the armchair across from them. “So.”

“So,” Honey echoes.

They nod at each other awkwardly, waiting for the other to say something.

Trevor looks between them. He chuckles a little bit, then covers his mouth when Honey glares at him, betrayal probably coating her features. “Sorry,” Trevor apologizes. “This is just so…” he trails off, shaking his head. He extends his hand towards Honey’s dad. “I’m Trevor. You have a really nice house.”

“Christopher,” Honey’s dad supplies, reaching out and taking Trevor’s hand. They shake hands for a second, then drop. “Tell you what,” he continues. “Why don’t I head down to the garage and see if I can scrounge us up some drinks? Honey can give you the tour. There’s a lot of house left to see.”

“Sounds great,” Trevor confirms. 

“Your mom should be home in about fifteen,” Christopher announces to the room. He slaps his hands over his knees and stands, heading towards the kitchen, which connects to their garage.

Honey can’t seem to decide what to call him. He’s familiar and she knows him, but it’s been a long time. There are two glass shields between them– the one that she put up to protect herself and the one that he raised in front of himself– and Honey can’t tell whose is thicker and stronger. It’s still her dad through the glass, but she doesn’t know if he’d respond to ‘Dad’ if she lowered her defense and called out to him. ‘Christopher’ doesn’t seem right either. That’s for people like Trevor– not his blood relative. Honey has half of his DNA. She can’t just call him Christopher.

“I think this is going well,” Trevor offers when her father leaves the room.

Honey glares at him. 

Trevor laughs and takes her hand. “C’mon. Show me around. Get comfortable in the house again, then you’ll be more comfortable talking to your dad. He seems nice.”

“He is nice,” Honey grumbles. “That’s why I’m annoyed that this is so awkward.”

“I mean, I get it, Hon. You don’t talk to the guy for five years and then show up on his doorstep? That’s a surprise for sure. I think he just needs some time. Plus, your mom will be here soon, so we’ll see if she can diffuse the tension at all.” Trevor squeezes her hand. “Show me around, babe.”

The tour starts simply. Honey introduces each room in a sullen voice, listing them. Living room, where they just sat. Dining room. Her chair was that one. Kitchen, downstairs bathroom, her parents’ home office, the laundry room. It’s once they head upstairs that Honey opens up a little bit.

It’s because of the baby pictures that line the wall. Trevor makes her stop and explain them.

“That’s me and Mom on my first birthday,” Honey says about the first one. “It was just us. They waited until my mom was 35 or 36 to have me, and my dad’s parents were elderly already, so they couldn’t come visit because they lived so far away and it wasn’t easy for them to travel.”

“What about your mom’s parents?” Trevor asks.

Honey shakes her head. “Her dad wasn’t around and her mom died when she was in college.”

“Oh.” 

Honey shrugs. “She’s okay.” She moves onto the next picture. “My daycare put on a play the first year I was there. I played a bunny and I really loved my ears, so my teachers let me take them home. I wore them every day for almost a year, probably. From the time I was two until I turned three.”

“That’s really cute,” Trevor coos, nuzzling Honey’s cheek with his nose. “Should I start calling you ‘Bunny?’”

Honey blanches and pushes him off. “No,” she says. “That makes me sound like a tramp.”

Trevor slides his hand under her shirt and taps the tattoo at the base of her spine. “Well, if this doesn’t already.”

Honey pushes him away again, further this time. “Don’t be a dick, Trevor.”

Trevor grins. “Okay, baby. Keep telling me about these pictures. You were adorable back then.”

“If the next words that come out of your mouth are ‘What happened?’, I’ll kill you,” Honey threatens. 

Trevor zips his lips and locks them with an invisible key.

Honey points at the third picture. “I’m eating pomegranate in that. My parents used to cut them up for me and let me pick out all the seeds by hand, which would take forever, but it kept me occupied instead of in front of the TV.” Her finger fixes on the fourth. “I got that bike for Christmas when I was eight and I would ride it around the neighborhood every summer until someone stole it when I was eleven.”

“I recognize that girl,” Trevor says before Honey can explain the fifth picture.

Honey smiles. “Yeah, that’s my Bea.” That was a fun day– they went ‘camping’ with their dads that day, but it was more like their dads went fishing and the girls were left to run around and get up to no good under the guise of supervision. It was Bea’s idea to smear mud on their faces like war-paint and Honey’s idea to weave ferns in their hair. They claimed it was camouflage from the monster army in the woods and their dads played along, abandoning their fishing rods in favor of playing pretend. It was after they defeated the enemy that Honey’s dad had snapped the photo on her mom’s digital camera before making them wash the mud off. They weren’t allowed to maintain their costumes in the McLean’s minivan.

“You guys have been best friends this long without a break?” Trevor asks. “Really?”

Honey nods. “Yeah. We just get each other, always have. That’s my girl.”

“That’s cool.”

They continue down the upstairs hall. Honey shows Trevor her parents’ bedroom, the guest room, and the old playroom that her parents have converted into a half-assed gym. There’s just a treadmill and a yoga ball in there. When they pass the bathroom, Trevor plants a kiss on Honey’s cheek and says he’s doing to take a leak. There’s only one room left, at the end of the hall, door facing them menacingly, and Honey accepts. Entering her old room will be like going back in time and she doesn’t know if she’s ready for Trevor to do that with her. It would be nice to have a moment alone.

When she enters the room and sees how everything is frozen in time, Honey feels tiny and seventeen and sad all over again. It was here, five years ago, that she was sent those videos of herself. She was laying in that bed when it happened. In the months before she could leave and run away to Litchton, her bedroom door would get stuck from how hard she slammed it after finding out. It was pure anger and it actually warped her doorframe.

Honey feels dizzy all of a sudden, like a sudden onset of vertigo, and she needs to lay down. She will not lay in that bed, not that rotten time capsule where she lost her virginity to Thomas Jones when she was just a child.

So Honey lays on the floor.

She used to do this a lot, actually. Bea would call it ‘Honey’s Mandatory Floor Time.’ She always said it looked silly and Honey was ridiculous. She said it with a laugh, but Honey is not laughing now. 

This is ridiculous, Honey thinks to herself. Why are you lying on the floor? Get up. Get up.

Her eyes focus, bringing everything back into view where it had fizzled away while she zoned out. She can feel thin tear tracks drying on her cheeks and at the corners of her eyes.

There, at the base of her bedframe, Honey spots a carved heart. Inside the heart lies a scribbled “H + T.”

Honey deflates, finding herself immobile where she lays. H + T. She carved that for Thomas as an angsty sixteen year old, frustrated that her parents hadn’t allowed her to stay out with her boyfriend after homecoming. She’d had to come home for curfew and she missed out on a really fun night. The letters had been her tiny act of rebellion, just out of sight.

She had forgotten about the carving. If she had remembered it, she’d have gotten rid of the bed frame a long time ago. Shortly after his betrayal, probably.

Trevor knocks at the door and enters Honey’s bedroom. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he drops to the floor and joins her. Trevor lays with his head next to Honey’s, body close to hers but not touching, except for their hands. He intertwines their fingers. “What are we doing down here?” Trevor asks.

Honey shrugs.

He looks around, allowing the silence to rest. “H + T,” he mutters eventually, lifting their intertwined hands to run his index finger along the carving, tracing Honey's handwriting. “You and me.”

And, yeah. Honey can live with that.

She nods. “You and me,” she echoes, staring at the carving.

Out of her peripheral, she sees Trevor turn his head to look at her. She does the same, mirroring him. He smiles. She smiles. His thumb rubs her hand soothingly and Honey feels dried up. It's hard to cry whenever Trevor's around. He makes everything better.

Trevor sits up, then drags Honey up into a sitting position by her wrists. Honey goes limp to make it hard for him. “Oh, come on, Hon,” Trevor groans. “Don’t be difficult. You’ve gotta sit up so you can tell me all about this childhood bedroom of yours.”

Honey rolls her head back on her shoulders and sticks her tongue out of her mouth like she’s dead. 

Trevor lowers her back to the ground. “Fine,” he huffs. “I’ll snoop myself.”

“Good idea,” Honey says. “You knew you wanted to go through my underwear drawer anyway.”

“I only go through your Litchton underwear drawer,” Trevor retorts. “Don’t be weird.”

Honey scoffs and rolls her eyes. Duh, she’s the weird one in this relationship.

Trevor brightens and reaches across her bed. “Who’s this guy?” he asks, dangling the stuffed animal by his tail in front of Honey.

“Puppy,” Honey replies.

Trevor balks and brings the animal up to his face. “This is a monkey.”

“I know,” Honey says. “I was two when I got him. He kind of looks like a dog, though, don’t you think?”

Trevor tosses Puppy down onto Honey’s lap. She picks him up and makes him sit up on her stomach. She traces his stitched nose. “I don’t think so,” Trevor says. “He’s very monkey-like.”

“Yeah, well. His name is Puppy.” Honey rubs his soft front paw between her thumb and forefinger. 

Trevor has moved onto her desk, but doesn’t seem to find anything that interests him. He walks to her wooden dresser and eases the bottom drawer open. It’s full of pants and he rifles through them for a bit while Honey looks at the stuffed animal she left behind.

Her heart pangs a bit, thinking about how she used to take Puppy with her everywhere. It was a miracle she didn’t lose him out in public or when she’d sneak him into her backpack at daycare and kindergarten. Toy Story must have done a number on Honey. Puppy must have been lonely while she was gone. Five years is a long time to wonder where someone went. She hugs him to her chest.

“Honey,” Trevor says suddenly. He’s moved onto her second drawer, full of old t-shirts. He holds one in his hands, turning around and showing it to her.

“Oh, I used to love that shirt,” Honey says. “I used to sleep in it all the time. Bea and I found it while we were thrifting when she first got her license. I like the font, it makes me think of NASCAR.”

Trevor holds the shirt out in front of him, double checking the words. “Baby.” He stares at Honey. “This is a Ducks shirt.”

That makes Honey sit up. “No, it’s not. I don’t even watch hockey. Why would I have a hockey shirt?”

“It is, look–” Trevor points at each of the words. “‘2007 Stanley Cup Champions, Anaheim Ducks.’” He tosses the shirt into Honey’s chest and she has to drop Puppy to catch it. “And I thought the Nike tattoo was our invisible string.”

Honey takes in the lettering. Trevor’s right– it does say that. Maybe she never cared enough to actually look at the words before now. She just liked the “vintage” design.

“You manifested me,” Trevor teases, smiling smugly.

“Fuck off,” Honey laughs. “You know that we met by coincidence.”

Trevor plops on the ground in front of her, crossing his legs. He brings his hand to her jaw and drags her forward into a kiss. “Nah, you and me are fate.”

“Don’t be a goof,” Honey chastizes. She hears the front door open, then close. Her mom sets down her bag on the dining room table. “We gotta go downstairs before you find anything else and become even more annoying.”

“I’m keeping this shirt,” Trevor declares, wrestling it from her grasp. He plucks Puppy from the ground. “And the monkey.” He’s standing and moving away before she can snatch him back.

“You can’t just take my things,” Honey whines. She stands and chases Trevor as he leaves the room and goes down the hall. She catches him at the top of the stairs, jumping on his back and trying to slow him down. 

They get down the stairs and bump into the wall in the main hall of the house. That’s where they run into Honey’s mom.

“What in the world?” she exclaims before she sees Honey on Trevor’s back. 

Honey freezes a little bit. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Honey,” her mom replies. Unlike her dad, Honey can read the expression on this face. It’s pure confusion. “What are you doing here? Who’s this?”

Trevor extends his hand the same way he did to Christopher. “I’m Trevor. We’re visiting.”

Stephanie takes his hand gingerly. “That’s great,” she says warily. “But who… are you?”

“Trevor is my boyfriend,” Honey reveals, sliding from Trevor’s back and finding her footing on the ground. He keeps the shirt and stuffed animal out of her reach. “I thought… it might be nice for y’all to meet him.”

Her mom inhales deeply, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip just like Honey does when she’s thinking deeply about something. “Okay,” Mom says. She looks to Trevor. “I’m Stephanie. I’ll join you two in the living room in a few minutes. I believe my husband found some drinks in the garage.” She squeezes past them and goes up the stairs. 

The awkwardness is creeping back into Honey’s bones, but she’s doing her best to push it away. She told her mom that Trevor is her boyfriend and didn’t get this big, negative reaction. Maybe Honey is always imagining the worst.

“I found some LaCroix,” Dad says when she and Trevor sit down on the couch for the second time that day. “You still like LaCroix, right, Hon?”

Honey never liked LaCroix. Bea did, and Bea was a bad influence who swore up and down that it was better than regular water. Honey drank it to play along and avoid a debate. “Sure, Dad,” Honey says. She doesn’t want to embarrass him by saying no, especially since he seems so proud of himself for finding something she enjoys.

Trevor eyes her, but doesn’t say anything. He knows Honey doesn’t like sparkling water, but he seems to recognize that Honey doesn’t want him to do anything.

“How’s the house?” Christopher asks. He sits down in the armchair and cracks his own LaCroix, making a face when he drinks but trying not to make it obvious.

“It’s good. I’m taking care of it. The basement steps rotted out that first year, but Earl– I don’t know if you remember him– he repaired them for me.” Honey feels like she’s talking too much. That’s her own doubt and anxiety talking. She’s talking a completely normal amount.

“I remember Earl,” her dad replies. He sips from his can again and does a much better job of keeping his expression neutral this time. “He’s a good man. How’s Ada?”

“She’s good. It’s blackberry season, so she’s making lots of goodies. The patches in her garden are growing really well this year.”

“And your ladies?”

“They’re still the town gossips.”

“Honey had a very good time drinking with them at Litchton’s annual softball game,” Trevor interjects. “Scarlett especially was a hoot and a holler.”

Honey cuts her eyes at Trevor. Why is he telling her dad about how she was drinking with the ladies? He doesn’t need to know that she gets drunk… as a completely legal, 21+ year old woman.

Her dad laughs anyway. “I bet. That woman has always been crazy. I remember the baby shower my mom attended before Sarah was born. Even sober, Scarlett was the life of the party.” He quiets slightly. “Wonderful lady. She’s got lots of love to give.”

Honey nods. 

Her mom rejoins them. She has changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a loose shirt. She’s also grayer than she used to be and her hands are developing age spots. She sits on the arm of the chair that Honey’s dad occupies. “So, ‘just visiting,’” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s good, Mom,” Honey repeats. “I just wanted to bring Trevor by. I thought it would be nice to introduce y’all, since I’m dating him and all.”

“Oh, you’re Honey’s boyfriend!” Christopher exclaims. He sets his drink down with a clink. “What do you do, Trevor? Do you live in Litchton as well?”

“Are you pregnant?” Stephanie asks.

Honey’s jaw drops. “No. I am not pregnant.”

“Definitely not,” Trevor adds. “We only just said ‘I love you’ two nights ago.”

“When did you start dating?” Stephanie crosses one leg over the other and laces her fingers together.

Honey cringes and doesn’t answer.

Trevor answers for her. “Technically, our first date was July 22nd, but Honey only called me her boyfriend on August 3rd.”

Honey’s parents stare at them and Honey stares back. She understands their concern– it’s only August 12th. Why would she love her boyfriend after only nine days of exclusivity? Trevor ignorantly sits next to Honey with a big smile on his face.

“We’ve been seeing each other since May,” Honey justifies. “It’s not– it’s not like we’re rushing into things.”

Honey’s dad squints at them and traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, he shrugs. “Eh, mountain time is different. Good for you. Now, again: Trevor, what do you do?”

The grilling is pretty normal after that. Trevor answers all her dad’s questions about hockey and the league, about his salary and about the travel. He answers her mom’s questions about how he expects to make Honey happy if he’s gone all the time. 

Trevor handles the questions with grace and ease. He’s got an answer for everything, without hesitation. He’s charming, too– Honey’s parents are laughing with him and playfully poking fun at Honey. They even offer to bring up some old home videos and yearbooks from the basement… which is when Honey cuts them off and reminds Trevor that they have dinner plans. He’ll have to see her baby photos another time– well into the future, when she’s more prepared to cringe and blush and hide her face in a throw pillow.

Trevor whines and complains a little bit, but Honey eventually convinces him that they have to go. He doesn’t leave the house without promising to see Christopher and Stephanie over Christmas, though. 

It looks like Honey now has plans for the holidays.

79:90 – TREVOR

“Where is everybody?” Trevor asks. He woke up a little while ago, having slept in late after the drive back to Litchton last night– he and Honey hooked up in the backseat of the car, too, which tired him out a bit– and the house was quiet. The only person he’s been able to find is Jack, who is out back playing around on their makeshift rink.

“Out, I don’t know,” Jack replies. He flicks a puck towards the net. “Quinn might be at Bea’s. Luke said something about meeting Emma-Kate in Greensboro for a movie. Cole is a mystery.”

“Cool.” Trevor doesn’t need all the details. Jack gave him plenty. “Can I shoot with you?”

“Yeah.”

Trevor walks underneath the covered patio, where the hot tub is, to grab his skates from the little pile they made. He laces them up, pulling his socks high enough that the skates don’t rub on his calves uncomfortably, and tugs his shirt off before he joins Jack on the patch of concrete. The August sun is hot and beaming down on them. Trevor can feel himself sweating already.

They fool around a bit. They take turns shooting at the net, then play couple of games of Horse. That eventually dissolves into a sort of 1v1 scrimmage or game of keep-away, and before Trevor knows it, more than an hour has ticked away. 

Once Jack accidentally flicks their final puck outside of the rink in an attempt to bounce it off their wooden boards, they take a rest. Jack doesn’t want to go get the puck right now and neither does Trevor, so they lay down on the concrete slab and soak up the sun.

Jack pokes Trevor with his stick.

Trevor pokes him back, harder this time.

“Ow!” Jack exclaims, catching his bicep in his hand and rubbing it dramatically. “I didn’t poke you that hard, Z.”

“You’re such a wimp,” Trevor replies, but there’s no heat behind his words. He’s just messing with Jack. “For a guy in the NHL, you’re kind of prissy. A little bruise hurts that bad?”

Jack scowls. “Fuck off.”

After a beat of silence, where Trevor watches a red cardinal hop through the branches above them, Jack speaks again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, man.”

“It’s about you and Honey.”

Trevor is a little more hesitant now. “Okay…”

“Are you guys, like… that serious?” Jack asks. 

It’s a stupid question, in Trevor’s opinion. They’ve said ‘I love you.’ Of course they’re that serious.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Jack closes his eyes and spreads his arms out, palms facing the sky. “I thought I was dreaming when we all camped out the other night. When I went inside, I saw you and Honey sleeping together in the hammock. Was pretty sure it was a hallucination.”

Trevor raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You saw us and didn’t say anything?”

Jack shrugs. “Like I said. Thought I was hallucinating. I was pretty tired and still kind of drunk from all that wine we had.”

“Oh.”

“Why’d you keep it a secret?” Jack asks. “It wouldn’t have been a problem, you know. We like Honey. She’s cool.”

“Honey wanted to keep it a secret, actually,” Trevor says. “I didn’t have a preference, really. I would’ve been fine telling you guys from the start, but she didn’t want to. So we didn’t.”

“She was ashamed of you, then?”

Trevor scoffs. “No, she wasn’t ashamed of me.”

Jack tuts. “I find that hard to believe.”

Trevor reaches out with his stick and smacks Jack with the blade. 

Jack sits up and moves away, to the other end of the rink and out of Trevor’s reach. He leaves a patch of sweat on the concrete where he had lain. It’s the same shape as his shadow. “Stop it, dude. You know what I mean. She was all about pissing you off for a while, or she’s just a really good actress.”

Trevor shades his eyes from the sun and finds Jack in his eyeline. “She’s a good actress.”

“So why’d she want to keep it a secret?” Jack pries.

Trevor frowns. “That’s not for me to say. Honey doesn’t have to tell you everything just because you’re friends, you know.”

“Ugh,” Jack groans exaggeratedly. “What’s the point of even having this conversation if you won’t tell me all the nitty-gritty details?”

“I’m not just going to tell you all of my girlfriend’s business, Jack. How would you like it if I started pressing you about Lani?” Trevor knows he’s hit a chord because of the way Jack tenses up.

“Well, to start, Lani isn’t my girlfriend,” Jack grumbles.

“And yet you hook up with her every summer when we’re in Michigan. Without fail, you and Lani fuck the first night and then fool around for the rest of the summer. You do this every year and never answer anyone’s questions. Why should I reveal Honey’s secrets when you’re so dead-set on keeping your relationship with Lani private?” Trevor is on a roll, venting out the thoughts he’s had for years. “I mean, you didn’t even invite her to Litchton this summer. You’ve invited her to Jersey in the past, but you won’t bring her here. And I know you’re not talking to her. What’s that about?”

Jack scoffs and pushes himself up into a seated position. “You don’t know shit about me and Lani because there’s nothing to talk about. We’re not together. We hook up sometimes. We’re friends. It’s a summer thing.”

“That doesn’t explain why you drunk dialed her last year when you got injured and begged her to come out and stay with you,” Trevor bites back. “That doesn’t seem very summery to me.”

“That’s not your business,” Jack insists.

“Well, Honey’s isn’t yours.”

They reach a stalemate here. Trevor is mad because Jack is being stupid, Jack is mad because Trevor is trying to push him to talk about something he doesn’t want to discuss, and they’re both stubborn.

Jack breaks first. He always does.

He kicks a rock, then reaches out to pick it up and hurl it into the woods. “She’s not happy with me. I didn’t tell her we’d be gone all summer and then I told her about Bea when we were still hooking up, and she got mad at me for ‘being such a slut.’”

Trevor snorts. “Lani slut-shamed you? Good, you deserve it. You’ve been treating her like a fall-back ever since you started hooking up.”

“How was I supposed to know she wanted more,” Jack mumbles under his breath, glaring at the ground. “She never told me. And now she won’t talk to me, even though it’s been over between me and Bea. At least Bea knew that we weren’t serious.”

“Because she’s obsessed with Quinn.”

“No, dude,” Jack groans. “Like, yeah, she’s obsessed with Quinn, but hooking up with Bea was never a thing. She didn’t want anything out of it and neither did I.”

Trevor reads between the lines. Lani wants something and Jack doesn’t– or, he doesn’t know what he wants, so he just wants everything to stay the same.

“I don’t know.” Jack starts to untie his laces, his movements much more violent than they need to be. It must be the frustration. “I wish she would just tell me what she wants instead of being all coy about it. We’re supposed to be friends first.”

“You kind of screwed that when you started hooking up with her.”

Jack sighs. He pulls his skate off. “Yeah.” He sighs again and Trevor lets it go– he doesn’t want to beat up on Jack like this anymore.

They sit in silence for a few minutes longer. Trevor sits up and starts to undo his laces too. They’re done practicing for the day and he needs a shower. He can feel the sweat dripping off of his body.

Jack is the first to stand. He walks to Trevor and extends a hand, pulling him to his feet. He claps Trevor on the back as he walks towards the house. “Look, man, secrets or not, I’m happy for you.” He reaches the sliding glass door near the hot tub and drops his skates into the pile. 

Trevor is very wary of the smile on Jack’s face.

“You know, when I was hooking up with Bea, I had this awesome dream about having a threesome with her and Honey.” Jack’s grin is wicked and Trevor can feel his temper rising like steam in a kettle. “If she’s half as good in real life as she was in my imagination, you’d better lock her down real quick.”

He disappears inside and Trevor tries to stamp down the urge to strangle Jack until the life leaves his eyes. 

80:90 – HONEY

If Bea wants to cause a scene at Scruffy’s tonight, then she’s doing something right. She told all of the boys to meet at her place because she had a surprise for them. Honey was already there. Bea dragged her straight from work up to her building and got Honey hooked with the promise of a homemade margarita.

It turns out, since their Target day two weeks ago, Bea has been plotting a funny T-shirt day. She was inspired by the matching T-shirts that Cole bought for him and Honey, the bright pink one with the unicorn and rainbow. She bought a T-shirt for each person in their little group, wrapped them up in giftwrap, and now she wants to go out to dance at Scruffy’s in their new shirts.

The reveals are admittedly hilarious. 

Honey loves her shirt. Bea ordered it to be about two sizes too big for Honey, which will make it into a good sleep shirt after tonight. This is probably the only time she’ll wear it out into the world, this white T-shirt with red lettering that reads “I lost my virginity at Toyotathon!” with the Toyota logo on the back of the shirt. Honey wishes she lost her virginity at Toyotathon. That would make an incredible story. She threw it on first thing, stripping out of her work top right there in front of the boys and pulling it on. It’s too hot in Litchton in August, even after the sun sets in a few hours, to wear both layers.

Quinn loves his shirt almost as much as Honey loves hers. They’re similar in make: a white T-shirt with red writing. That’s where the similarities end. Quinn’s reads, “Women want me. Fish fear me. Raccoons find me oddly comforting.” He laughs out loud when he reads it, folds it up and looks at Bea, then reads it again like he can’t believe what it said. He starts to laugh again and covers his face with the shirt. “I didn’t know you were buying us silly stuff when you asked for our shirt sizes,” Quinn says. 

“Duh,” Bea replies with a hint of sass. She’s tugging her own silly shirt over her head– cream colored with black text that reads, “4th Wife Material.” Honey thinks any person would be happy to have Bea as their first wife, but less their fourth. If Bea is number four, then they’ve done something wrong in their life. Her shirt is cropped and tight, showing off the lower part of her ribcage and the expanse of her stomach. Honey dares to say that she sees an imprint in the suspicious shape of a mouth on Bea’s abdomen, right where her hips start. Her pleated black mini-skirt ties the outfit together so well, but it’s not something that Honey could ever pull off. She’s sure Quinn loves how tiny the skirt is.

“I don’t have autism,” Jack complains, although he dutifully pulls his “Weaponized Autism” shirt over his head. 

Bea shrugs. “Maybe not. But you memorize hockey facts and games like no one I’ve ever met. It’s your special interest, J. Would you rather wear the ‘Of course I cum fast, I have fish to catch’ shirt that I bought as a backup?”

Cole snickers. “Yeah, Jack. Do you want everyone knowing you’re a quickshot or do you want to wear a shirt with a sick pistol-wielding skeleton on the front?” He gestures at the navy shirt on his chest, equally as cropped as Bea’s, with orange words that spell out “dickrider.” The dot over the ‘i’ is a little cowboy hat. “I don’t ride dick, but this shirt is sick.”

Luke’s shirt is tight on his chest too, accentuating the feature that Bea had in mind when she bought his shirt. It almost matches hers in color and font, although it’s not quite as cream-colored. It’s somewhere between white and Bea’s shade. The font stretches, only emphasizing Bea’s point. “Small Heart, Massive Tits” declares Luke’s shirt, and Honey laughs about how real it is. She’s going to text a picture of Luke to Emma-Kate if she can sneak it. Apparently, they saw each other yesterday– but Honey doesn’t expect that it’s anything too serious. Honey thinks Luke might like having a person outside of their little group, especially one closer to his own age.

“Is this me?” Trevor asks. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet since he opened his wrapping and caught a glimpse of his shirt. His question is incredulous and the look in his eyes is equally as disbelieving. “Did you customize a t-shirt with my face on it?”

Bea grins and giggles, proud of herself. “Well, don’t hide the shirt from your friends. Put it on.”

Trevor stares at the shirt for a moment longer. “How did you even do this?”

“It’s not hard to personalize a shirt, Trevor,” Bea laughs. “Especially not when you’re a famous athlete. Do you know how many people use your likeness online?”

“Show us what it says,” Cole demands. He reaches of Trevor’s shirt, snagging the dark gray fabric in his fist and tugging it from Trevor’s hands. He holds it out in front of him and his face clouds. Cole pouts before he looks at Bea. “This is so funny, why didn’t you get this one for me?” He turns the shirt so everyone can see what it says; in the center of the shirt, there’s a framed photo of Trevor with hair that is longer and fluffier than it is now. Surrounding the frame are the words “Rest in Peace Princess Diana.”

Honey has to cover her mouth to keep a laugh in, so as not to offend her boyfriend, but she’s with the rest of the group as they try to convince him to put it on. He relents after a few minutes of begging. Honey knows that he’ll never wear that shirt again– and she can’t wait to steal it for herself. 

They’re quick to go out to Scruffy’s after that, walking down main street so no one has to drive and waste gas. They’ll sober up at Bea’s afterward anyway, on the off chance that they overdo it. Honey isn’t planning on overdoing it. She might not have to open the store tomorrow, but she doesn’t exactly get to sleep in, and she hates being hungover at Story Time.

Arn’s voice is pretty scratchy today. Honey expects that by the end of the night, they’ll be taking karaoke requests from the black binder of songs that the guys know how to play. She can’t guarantee that she’ll get up on the stage and sing, but she bets Bea will. She wouldn’t be surprised if Cole gets up there too. 

Scruffy’s is a bit more full than it normally is, to Honey’s delight. She gets to show off her shirt. All of her ladies and their husbands are in the building for once. While Honey and Bea haven’t been in Scruffy’s as much this summer because of their new friends, it’s rare to see all the ladies together at the same time unless it’s a Tuesday morning and they have their knitting needles in hand. They like to remind the younger ladies that they too have lives, even though they’re all eligible for the Early Bird Special at the Hardee’s down the road. 

The first order of business is to grab a table. The big booths are taken, unfortunately, but there are a couple of people that look like they’re close to getting up. Bea, Quinn, and Cole decide to stay back and “hover.” Honey is confident in their ability to pressure a group into leaving, just from sheer impatience.

Jack and Trevor task themselves with going to the bar and ordering drinks and food for their future table. Honey doesn’t know how they’re going to carry seven drinks and food, but it’s not her business. She and Luke are going to play pool.

It’s there that Honey experiences the first reaction to their shirts. Tyler, Jessie’s husband and Luca’s father, is in the middle of a game. He goes to greet Honey with a wave, then his eyes catch on her shirt. Then, his eyes go to Luke’s shirt. His expression is priceless– wide eyes and pure confusion, his mouth hinged open and then snapped abruptly shut. It’s funny. 

As the night stretches on, more people notice the T-shirts. When Jack and Trevor deliver drinks to Honey and Luke, there are more glances of confusion and a few laughs from those around them. The boys pay them no mind, jumping in on the pool game and making it into a doubles game. Jack pairs up with Luke and Trevor pairs up with Honey– the game is over quickly after that and Jack’s food buzzer starts to beep, so they head to the bar to pick up all of the things that the ravenous, gluttonous boys ordered. 

The bartender, a middle aged woman whose name is escaping Honey’s mind at this current moment, laughs at their shirts and makes them back up so that she can see them properly. She takes out her phone and takes a picture of the four of them. Honey stands in the middle of the guys, between Jack and Trevor, and they all have their arms around each other. Before the end of the night, she’ll have to ask the bartender to send the picture to her. It would be nice to get it printed and put it in a frame.

They load their arms up with plates and baskets of appetizers and find Bea, Quinn, and Cole sitting at a booth. They succeeded in securing one, evidently, and they get up so that the rest of the group can squeeze into the remaining space. Bea produces a pack of Uno cards from Quinn’s back pocket and they lose track of time, playing and shouting meaningless insults when someone puts down a +4. 

The band plays on and people dance around them, food and drinks from the table slowly disappear and they take turns going to get the next round for whoever feels like drinking more. Quinn has been on a cleanse for a while, since the season is coming up. Honey has a couple of drinks, but she’s pacing herself. The boys are enjoying themselves, knowing that Quinn can drive them home afterward. Bea is enjoying herself because her place is walking distance from Scruffy’s.

When the band starts to do karaoke, just like Honey expected, Bea issues a challenge to Trevor.

“I will give you…” Bea hums, tapping her chin. “Fifty dollars to get on stage and sing Candle In The Wind while showing off your shirt.”

Trevor laughs. “Where are you getting all this cash, Bea? I know Ada doesn’t pay you enough to spend $250 on your friends in one week.”

Bea shrugs with one shoulder, her smile coy as she snuggles into Quinn’s side. She slides a hand over his stomach and looks up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. “Can I borrow fifty dollars?” she requests sweetly, her voice dripping with flirtaciousness. 

Quinn grins and rolls his eyes at Bea, pretending not to fall for her charms. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For a dance,” he bargains. “Need you to work for my money a little bit, baby.”

Bea giggles. She scoots from the booth and drags Quinn with her. “As if you even needed to ask, Q.”

They disappear into the middle of the crowd and the boys shuffle around the booth to fill the space they left. Honey catches a glimpse of Bea throwing her arms around Quinn’s neck and tossing her head back in laughter at something he says. His hands are pinching her hips like they did when he followed her up the stairs on their first night together. He’s holding Bea’s lower half close to his and brushing his nose against hers, his mouth moving and yapping away before placing a kiss on her cheek.

Honey wishes at first that Bea wasn’t so stubborn about leaving this in the summer. It’s one of those things that she can’t control, which is sad. Honey is a little jealous of them in this moment after her fleeting tryst of sadness. Quinn and Jack know about her and Trevor now, but there are still two people, Luke and Cole, who don’t know. So she can’t really ask Trevor to dance, but she can hint at it. 

Honey frees herself from the booth and stands at the head of the table. “I want to dance,” she says. “Who’s going to dance with me?” She looks at Trevor pointedly before continuing around the rest of the table.

Jack opens his mouth milliseconds before Trevor does. “I’ll dance,” he offers, grinning. He looks delighted at the idea and Honey remembers how excited he was to dance with Bea the first time they went to Scruffy’s. 

She’ll get to Trevor later, she’s sure. Dancing with Jack isn’t a problem for Honey– it’ll actually be rather fun. It’ll be like when she danced with Jamie.

They find their way next to Bea and Quinn as the band kicks up a fast-paced, fun country song that Honey distantly recognizes as a Toby Keith original. She feels lightheaded with how much she’s laughing and how Jack is spinning her under his arm and dipping her as low as he can– he drops her to the floor at one point and falls to his knees in a fit of giggles, apologizing profusely between his laughter. 

Honey has so much fun that she forgets to ask the bartender for that picture of her and her friends. It’s a night that’ll only live in memory– except for the paragraph that she scrawls in a journal when she gets home at the end of the night, just before Trevor honks his horn to pick her up and bring her back to the rental house to sneak a sleepover.

81:90 – TREVOR

“You would think after so many weeks, I’d have to stop reminding you that my eyes are up here, Trev,” Honey teases. 

When Trevor meets her eyes, tearing his gaze reluctantly from her tits, she’s smiling knowingly with raised eyebrows. Her hair is piled in a bun on top of her head and she’s toying with one of the strands that she always pulls from the front of her updos, curling it around her finger. 

It’s early in the morning, way earlier than Trevor normally wakes up even when he’s spending time with Honey, but she has to sneak out before work and she’d proposed that they take a bath together in Trevor’s ensuite jacuzzi. He certainly wasn’t going to say no to that, so he’s up and out of bed and ogling his girlfriend with sleepy eyes. The warmth of the bath, since Honey likes her water hot, isn’t doing anything to wake him up.

Honey’s being unfair to tell him not to look at her tits, though. She made them all soapy, rubbing suds into her skin and twisting her nipple piercings. When Trevor asked why she was doing that, she said it was so she could clean the skin where the holes are because if she doesn’t, the area around her piercings will get crusty. Trevor thinks she was trying to kill the mood by mentioning crust, but she seems awfully proud of herself after distracting Trevor. 

Trevor leans forward and circles his fingers around Honey’s ankles, tugging her closer to him. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You have my undivided attention.” He pulls at her ankles until Honey is coming to sit on his thighs and putting her hands on his shoulders. 

“I’m just messing with you,” Honey replies. She gently brushes a kiss over Trevor’s bottom lip. “It’s funny, how much you like my tits.”

“They’re good tits.”

“Mm, my best feature, wouldn’t you say?”

Trevor hums. “I’m not saying that,” he denies. “But they are very beautiful.” His hands come up and cup Honey’s boobs, thumbing over the remaining suds near her nipples. He’s sure to keep his eyes on Honey’s while he does this. “They match the rest of you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Honey groans. 

“I will not,” Trevor declares. He kisses Honey and pulls her closer, her cunt coming into contact with his semi-erect cock. “My beautiful girlfriend. The pretty girl that I love.”

Honey squirms. “Stop it,” she whines. 

Trevor peppers kisses over her face, refusing to stop the onslaught of affection. She’s squealing and turning her face away from his wandering lips, but her hands are gently tracing the planes of his shoulders and keeping him close. 

“Can I make you come?” Trevor asks. “Been a while since I had my dick inside you.”

“Not true,” Honey replies. “We hooked up in the car after my parents’ place.”

Trevor blows a raspberry against Honey’s cheek. “Ugh, you never let me get away with it when I try to be dramatic.”

Honey laughs, a twinkling sound that makes Trevor’s heart swell. He digs his fingernails into the meat of her behind, making it so her pussy is fully aligned with his cock.

“C’mon, I’ll make it quick,” Trevor says. He pecks Honey’s mouth. “You’ll still be able to make it out of the house before the boys wake up.”

“I’m not fucking you in the jacuzzi, it already felt gross enough when I fucked you in the hot tub,” Honey says. “If you want to fuck me, then we’ve got to go somewhere else.”

“Oh, your wish is my command,” Trevor sighs. He squeezes Honey’s behind once before allowing her to get up and off of him.

She cups some water in her hands and lets it run over her body, making sure that all the soap has dissipated before she stands and leaves the tub. 

Trevor’s hands trail over Honey’s thighs, to her knees, and calves as she steps onto the bathroom tile. He admires how long her legs look from this angle and how water droplets roll down her smooth skin.

She takes Trevor’s towel and wraps herself in it, leaving him with the washcloth next to it. He forgot to put out a towel for Honey before they got in the jacuzzi– that’s Trevor’s fault. When they move in together, he’ll be sure to install a towel rod that can fit both of their towels side-by-side. His and hers. H + T.

And when Honey shivers a bit from the change of warm water to cool air conditioning, Trevor vows to make the towel rack heated so that her towel is always hot and fluffy like it just came out of the dryer.

Trevor pulls the stopper from the drain and watches the water ripple as the pipe drinks it up. He sits in the water a moment longer and rushes out of the jacuzzi only once Honey starts to leave the bathroom. He nearly slips on the tile, but he catches her arm and brings her back. He presses her body against the bathroom counter and starts to kiss Honey’s neck. “Tryin’ to dip out on me?”

“No,” Honey giggles. “I was trying to get to your bed, silly boy.”

“We don’t need a bed,” Trevor tells her. “Why don’t I fuck you right here?”

“How romantic.”

“I’ll make it nice for you,” Trevor promises. He pinches Honey’s chin softly and guides her lips to his. “Just relax and I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl.”

“You’re such a smooth talker,” Honey whispers, breathing out a laugh. She touches Trevor’s brow when he pulls away and bites her lower lip, tampering with her smile. 

Trevor frees her lip with his thumb and untucks the towel, spreading the fabric and revealing her body. He hums like she’s the most appetizing thing he’s ever seen, letting his gaze wander down her body. Trevor palms her thighs and slides his hands around to the back, lifting Honey so that she is sitting on the counter. Trevor spreads her knees and licks his lips. 

She’s glistening.

“So wet,” Trevor says, dropping down to kneel on the tile. He shifts around to try and find a position that is comfortable, given the hard ground.

“It’s from the water,” Honey snaps back sassily. “Don’t be fooled.”

Trevor glances up at her, unimpressed, then playfully nips at her skin. He sinks his teeth into the meat of her inner thigh, nibbling.

Honey seizes Trevor’s hair and pulls him off. “Stop that,” she admonishes. “I’m not wearing pants to work because you want to mark me up.”

Trevor sighs, feeling put out. “You never want me to have any fun.” He’s complaining, but he’s complaining with a smile. He lowers his mouth to Honey’s core and dives in.

Honey’s head hits the mirror behind her when she throws it back. There’s a small thud that accompanies the movement, but she waves him off when his eyes flicker up to check on her.

She’s fine, so Trevor closes his eyes and loses himself in the pussy at his lips.

Trevor admits that in his hookups before Honey, he hasn’t been known to munch without being asked. He craves Honey like her slick is her namesake. Maybe that’s cliché, but while Trevor’s tongue is caressing the sweet folds at her core, he can’t be bothered to care. She tastes good and she’s his, and the only way to describe her is in clichés. That’s how much Trevor feels for Honey. 

Sometimes he thinks that he might be living in a dream. He used to dream about moments like this, where Honey would tease him devotedly and make fun of him like they’re sharing a joke instead of like she’s trying to bring him down and purposefully stop him from falling in love with her. Now that it’s happening, he almost wonders if it’s real. Honey is a dream. She’s everything that Trevor has been waiting for without her even trying, without him even realizing that he’d been waiting for Honey. 

Trevor wishes he had found her sooner. He would’ve loved to know Honey when he was younger, before Thomas got to her and before she lost her taste for her big hometown. He thinks about what it would’ve been like to tell Honey about his day while he was playing for the NTDP, how he would have called her on the buses to and from games, how he would’ve brought her to the draft with him and thrown his new jersey on her body to share that his life wasn’t just about him. It would’ve been about them from the beginning and she would’ve been by his side.

At the same time, Trevor knows that it’s not that simple. He can’t rewrite history and include Honey. He probably wouldn’t have loved her as well as he should’ve, if he’d known her in high school. They probably would have broken up in some massive, explosive fight about how Trevor only cared about hockey and not about Honey and they’d never speak again. He wouldn’t be as bad as Thomas, but she’d think of him along similar lines. Trevor will never allow that to happen.

His tongue parts her folds eagerly, ears prickling proudly at the dreamy sigh that escapes Honey’s mouth. He picks up beads of her wetness, feeling them seep into his tastebuds and warm his stomach like he’s full, even though it’s impossible and entirely a placebo effect. Trevor pushes Honey’s thighs farther apart when they threaten to close around his head, keeping his hands on her supple skin and rubbing his thumb over the area because he can. He tenses his tongue into a sort of spear and licks into her entrance, greedy for everything she offers him. His nose bumps against her clit, which he knows Honey likes, so he keeps doing it. He nibbles on her folds and kitten-licks her clit in a mundane routine that always ends with him fucking his tongue into her heat and feeling her clench down in surprise.

Honey is pressing the back of her hand against her mouth to try and keep her sounds inside, but little mewls escape her anyway. It’s only after a drawn out whine leaves her, and Honey’s muscles quiver under Trevor’s palms throughout her climax, that Trevor pulls back and comes up to kiss her again.

“Good?” Trevor asks. “Satisfied, baby?”

“Fuck me,” Honey requests breathlessly, her fingertips digging into Trevor’s lovehandles and dragging him closer. “Fuck me, Trev.”

A self-satisfied smirk comes over Trevor’s face. How things have changed– Honey once said she wouldn’t beg for him, but here she is. She’s touching him impatiently and moving restlessly to try and get closer to Trevor, and frowning up at him when he stalls.

“We should do this every day forever,” Trevor tells Honey. 

“How about we start with today?” Honey answers him, sounding exasperated.

Trevor laughs at her retort and kisses her forehead. His hands weasel underneath her arms and find her backside, palming her cheeks.

Honey shoves her hand between their bodies and aligns his tip with her entrance. As his cockhead makes contact, Trevor helps her out and shifts forward. She melts in his touch as his cock slides inside of her warm and welcoming pussy.

“Fuck,” Trevor murmurs. 

Honey hums in reply, rolling her hips. “Trevor,” she says.

“Shh, I know,” Trevor says. He takes a breath in and pushes further, sinking into Honey until her cunt has enveloped his member. “Hon, you always feel so good.”

“Wanna come on your cock,” Honey keens sweetly, her bottom lip jutting out in a cute pout that Trevor can’t resist kissing. 

“Okay,” Trevor agrees. He moves his hands to the counter beneath Honey, finding leverage by laying his palms flat against the cool granite. He tucks his head against her neck, mouthing at the skin covering her pulse and doing his best not to leave a mark, even though he can’t resist sucking a little bit. She tastes clean and sweet and Trevor knows that he’ll do this for her whenever she wants, wherever, for the rest of time. He’s completely and entirely whipped.

Honey’s hands scramble for purchase on his back and shoulders as Trevor’s hips snap forward, pounding the walls of Honey’s pussy like he’s drunk on pleasure. Her gasps are choked and quiet, though the sounds between their bodies are anything but. Trevor really hopes that none of the guys decided to wake up early for any reason– they certainly had plenty of time to sneak Honey out before they started their bath, but now… Trevor isn’t so sure. He also isn’t shy about wanting to draw this out. Honey just feels so good around him, so tight and hot and eager for more.

“Fuck, baby, I love this pussy,” Trevor groans. He kisses over Honey’s shoulder, lathing his tongue against her collarbone. “Squeezing me so tight, making me feel so good. Love you. Love you.”

“Mm, gonna come, Trev,” Honey replies. Her hand slides to his hair and pets through the curling ends at the base of his neck. She kisses his jawline and Trevor feels her whimper vibrate against his skin.

“Come, Hon. Come for me,” Trevor encourages. He kisses over her body to her mouth, capturing her lips and slipping his tongue inside.

Honey arches into him, her mouth opening against his. Honey breathes into Trevor’s mouth, writhing against his body. “Yes,” she pants. “Oh, Trevor.”

Trevor nearly loses his shit when she inflects his name like that, all needy and whiny. His rhythm stutters and he keens involuntarily, the noise embarrassingly high-pitched. 

He fucks Honey through her orgasm, even as tight as her cunt is around his cock, and her cum drips down his shaft to form a ring of moisture at the base. It’s only once her entrance relaxes and welcomes him back in that Trevor lets go and floods her cunt with his own climax.

Honey likes it, Trevor knows she does, but she’s still playing her game with him. She rolls her head back on her shoulders, then comes back to level and looks down at her dripping pussy. “Gross,” she complains. “After we bathed and everything? How am I supposed to go to work with all of this inside of me?”

“I kind of like the idea of that,” Trevor teases.

Honey glares at him, barely concealing a laugh. “You would. I don’t want to go to Story Time with a bunch of cum inside of me. I would feel so dirty.”

Trevor chuckles. He kisses the underwisde of Honey’s jaw. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s clean you up.”

He hooks his arm under Honey’s knees, then wraps the other around her waist. He moves her to the edge of the bathtub and grabs the handheld showerhead, which makes Honey laugh out loud. Trevor washes her cunt clean, then overexaggerates to clean her more thoroughly– pushing his fingers through her folds and spreading them to let the water run through until Honey actually pushes him away and wraps herself in his towel again.

Trevor is supposed to drive her home, but they’re running out of time, so he’s going to drive her straight to work. It’s lucky that Honey plans ahead, because she brought a change of clothes with her last night in case something like this happened– and knowing Trevor, it was going to happen. He’s the first to admit that he’s going to try and soak up as much time as he can with Honey.

They manage to sneak out to the car, even though Trevor and Honey can hear Quinn and Luke shuffling around in the kitchen. They creep out of the driveway and when Trevor drops Honey off at The Reading Nook, she says goodbye with a kiss and an “I love you.”

82:90 – HONEY

Bea tugs a baggy Canucks hoodie over her head after they finish closing the Nook for the weekend. The sweatshirt falls over her athletic shorts and makes it look like she’s wearing no shorts at all. She stands behind Honey and frees her hair from the neckline of the hoodie, fluffing it up and then smoothing it down. “You’re sure you don’t want to come to the movies with us tonight?” Bea asks. “I’m sure we can find some movie that you’d like to watch.”

Honey chuckles. She jiggles the doorhandle to make sure the Nook is locked up properly before turning to look at Bea. “Nah, no thanks. I don’t really have an interest in going to see It Ends With Us, nor do I want to hang out with the boys while they watch Deadpool & Wolverine. Trev and I are going to hang out at the rental house.”

“We decided against It Ends With Us,” Bea informs Honey. She shoves her fists into the pocket of the hoodie. “The domestic abuse was a jumpscare when I looked up the synopsis. I should’ve known, considering it was a Colleen Hoover book originally.” She rolls her eyes, sighing. She and Honey share the same opinion about Colleen. They also work in a bookstore and read often, so they have their opinions about what makes a ‘good’ book. “But I like Hugh Jackman. I liked him in The Greatest Showman, anyway.”

Honey shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. I’ll see you after.”

“Alright,” Bea agrees. “We’ll probably be home around ten-ish. Do you want us to bring you any food after or anything?”

“No, we’ll be okay. Just bring some popcorn back with you.” Honey waves goodbye to Bea, since she parked in the opposite direction of the movie theater. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun with Ziggy,” Bea replies. She pulls her phone from the front pocket of the sweatshirt while she’s turning to walk away. 

When Honey gets in the car, she texts Trevor, asking about their plans for the night. He has very few. To be exact, he’s got one in mind: 

Horror movie!! is what Trevor says. 

Honey scoffs out a laugh. You want me to get scared and cuddle with you.

What if I want you to protect me from the monsters?

Honey leaves that one on read. She heads home before going to Trevor’s, changing into something a little more comfortable. She replaces her jean shorts with a pair of Trevor’s Ducks joggers that he insisted she steal– it’s not really stealing if Trevor forces her to take them and leaves them behind every time she gives them back– and her top with that big, faded muscle tee that shows off her sides. Honey doesn’t bother putting a bra on. Trevor will find it a hindrance anyway.

The drive over to the rental house is nice. The sun reached its peak hours ago, so Honey can tell that sunset is coming. There isn’t a cloud in the sky today. She hopes that is a good sign for the town-wide yard sale tomorrow. The town does this every year to encourage an end-of-summer cleaning and it’s never fun to shop around Litchton in the rain. 

Honey arrives at the house, lets herself inside, and finds Trevor in the kitchen. He’s flipping a grilled cheese in a pan, but he sets the spatula down when he sees Honey. “Hey, baby,” Trevor greets, reaching out to Honey to pull her into his orbit. He kisses her before turning back to the stove.

Honey sits at the island, watching the muscles in Trevor’s back as he cooks. He’s shirtless and tan, the epitome of summer, and he’s cooking for Honey. Even though his cooking is a little juvenile, she watches him with fondness. 

“Your sleeve looks like a farmer’s tan,” Honey says. “Did you know that?”

Trevor looks down at his arm, surprise quirking his eyebrows. “You think so?”

“I don’t dislike it,” Honey replies. “I love your tattoos. But it is a little goofy, just because it ends right where your clothes do.”

“I’ll just have to get another,” Trevor says, tossing a smirk over his shoulder at Honey. He plates the second grilled cheese and flexes his bicep, showing off for Honey. He smooths his hand over his shoulder and the bare skin there like it’s a canvas. “I’m thinking that I’ll put your face right here?”

Honey laughs out loud. “Don’t do that, Trevor. I will not let you get a tattoo of my face.”

Trevor places a plate in front of Honey and grabs a peach from the bowl next to the fridge. He rinses it under the faucet and hands it to Honey before coming to join her. Trevor puts a hand on the back of the chair where Honey sits. “Don’t worry. I was just messing with you. Do you want to eat up here or should we start our movie?”

“Did you choose one already?”

Trevor smiles. He tilts his head forward and lets his grin turn more evil and monstrous.  “We’re watching Smile,” Trevor reveals, the grin on his face not budging. “I heard it was very scary. There’s a new one coming out this year and I want to see the first one before it does.”

“I saw the trailer for it before it came out,” Honey says. She picks up her plate and hops up from the chair, wrapping her arm around Trevor’s waist and corraling him towards the basement. “But if I get scared, you’re not allowed to smile at me until at least tomorrow morning.”

“What if you make me laugh?”

“Do it with a frown.”

Trevor snickers under his breath, leading Honey down the basement steps. He plops down on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table, grabbing the remote from the cushion next to him and going to the search engine that is built into the TV, ready to scour all the apps they have to watch this movie.

Honey falls onto the couch beside Trevor, tucking herself beneath his arm, which was already extended over the back of the couch. She bites into her grilled cheese and tries to consume as much of this “dinner” as she can before the movie starts– she has a feeling that she’s going to lose her appetite at the first sign of horror.

Rightfully so. Honey knows herself well. As soon as the main character Rose’s patient Laura dons that creepy smile and starts to carve into her own face, Honey is no longer hungy. She puts her plate down and pushes it away and grimaces at the screen, knowing she’s in for a tough viewing. 

Trevor doesn’t make things better, with his own little flinches and jumps with each scare and tense moment, but he does do one thing right. After Rose traumatizes her nephew for the rest of his life at his birthday party, Trevor moves on the couch so that he’s sitting with his back against the arm and he pulls Honey’s back to his chest. 

And then he diffuses the tension altogether by putting his hands through the armholes of her muscle tee and using her boobs as his own personal stress balls.

The movie is still scary, but Honey has a real sense of security with Trevor’s hands on her breasts. It’s very grounding, even though it’s the stupidest and most boy thing ever to be mindlessly playing with her boobs to distract himself from the full effect of the scares. Granted, she wore this shirt with the intention of Trevor having easy access to her chest. She just didn’t think he’d take advantage of that fact in this way. 

When Rose arrives at her childhood home, still hallucinating, Honey senses another jumpscare coming and looks away. She studies the whiteboard that still remains in the basement. It used to be covered in Bea’s ranking system, but now the only bits of that that remains is a big circle around Quinn’s name and a yellow crown drawn on the ‘Q.’ The whiteboard has been used for something else now, which Honey hadn’t noticed before. On it are a list of dates in various handwritings, written under an underlined ‘GUESSES’ like a secret code: 12/31/2024, May 2025, 8-24-24, and 8/10. Honey assumes the last one is this year– last week– rather than August 2010. She squints at the whiteboard and tries to piece together the puzzle just based on the answers alone. None of the handwritings look like Bea’s– they’re all boyish chicken scratch, so Honey just assumes it has something to do with a hockey thing.

Her attention is ripped from the whiteboard just before she’s about to ask Trevor if he knows what’s going on with that. She’s jolted by the way Trevor jumps and moans fearfully as Rose’s mother starts to… transform… and follow after her daughter. He buries his face in Honey’s hair for a minute, then seems unable to bear the fact that he’s missing the climax of the film. Trevor alternates between the two and Honey stares at the screen, mouth wide open and heart racing.

Rose defeats the smiling demon, or whatever it is, with a massive fire. Trevor sighs in relief as she drives back to Joel’s house, releasing his grip on Honey’s skin. She turns from his back, now facing Trevor. She throws her legs over his lap and intertwines their hands before turning back to the television screen. The credits won’t be far off now.

How naive Honey is for thinking that the movie would wrap up so simply.

A sense of dread fills her again when Joel, Rose’s one ally in this movie, starts to smile at her in his apartment. When Rose wakes to find it was all an illusion, that the house didn’t burn down, Honey almost buries her face in Trevor’s shoulder and laments aloud for Rose. The poor girl cannot catch a break and the movie is shot so that the viewers are experiencing the twists at the same time Rose is. 

Rose’s mother, appearing as the demon, becomes less and less human. Honey’s skin is crawling and the monster reveals itself as this fleshy, gross… thing with razor sharp teeth. She squeaks when it touches Rose, finally taking hold and–

–screams when the lights in the basement shut off and she and Trevor are plunged into darkness.

She’s not the only one. Trevor is screaming too and getting up from the couch to do something, Honey guesses? But they can’t see anything, so his ‘doing something’ is completely futile. This same monster crawled from their screen like the girl in The Ring and is now infiltrating their lives until they’re completely overtaken by it and killing themselves because of this curse.

The lights come back on and Jack starts to laugh. “I thought that would freak you two out,” he jokes. He walks over to the couch and plops down next to Honey who, reacting completely reasonably, starts to whack Jack with a pillow over and over until he’s wrestling it away from her.

“You– are– such– a– stupid– idiot,” Honey insults between swings of the pillow, then between slaps from her own palms to the same pillow that Jack is now using as a shield. “I hate you!”

Jack keeps on laughing. The movie is ending. It’s not nearly all the way over, as Joel has only just entered the house to see what became of Rose, but Honey is wholly distracted. Even Trevor joins in, berating Jack for his trick and startling them so much. 

“What are you even doing here?” Honey finally accuses. “It’s early. You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

Jack shrugs, tucking the pillow under his arm and throwing his feet up on the table before them. “Didn’t feel like getting ice cream with the group, so I threw a tantrum until Quinn gave in and drove me back here and dropped me off.”

“Is Quinn here?” Trevor asks.

Jack waves him off. “No. He dropped me at the top of the driveway and went back with Bea and them.”

Trevor laughs. “He made you walk from the top of the driveway? That’s funny.”

“I expected it,” Jack replies. “He’s against my tantrums. But, hey, they work. I wanted to leave and he wanted to get rid of me. The walk was good. The stars are out.”

Trevor turns to Honey and tilts his head inquisitively. “Go stargazing later?”

“No thanks, babe,” Jack replies sweetly, jumping in to respond before Honey can. 

“I’m not talking to you, dumbass,” Trevor hisses.

Jack grins, pleased that he’s getting on Trevor’s nerves.

“Maybe later,” Honey says to Trevor about the stargazing. She steals the remote from his hands and clicks through the apps on their TV until she finds Peacock. “Let’s watch something goofy to take the edge off.”

She’s meaning to find New Girl, but Jack steals the remote from her hands and turns on The Office. He must have been watching it earlier in the summer, because he’s in the middle of season four. 

They get through one episode before Jack pauses the television and says something Honey didn’t expect. She should’ve, given how she’s still tucked into Trevor’s side and her legs are once again thrown over his lap. 

“I think you guys should tell everyone,” Jack announces.

Honey draws her eyebrows together and turns to glare at Jack. “Who did you tell?”

Jack lifts his hands in surrender. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he denies, defensive. “I swore I wasn’t going to and I haven’t!”

Honey narrows her eyes at him. “Not even Luke?”

Jack grits his teeth. “I have not told Luke yet, but it is very hard for me to lie to him. I told Trevor this a couple of days ago, Honey– no one cares if you two are dating. We like you. It’s not like anything is going to change for you.”

Honey sighs. Jack… she thinks. 

Trevor voices her thoughts. “Jack,” Trevor says sharply. He shakes his head. “Why–? Why.”

“Why what?” Jack scoffs. “We only have a week left here, Trevor. You and Honey– it’s going to come out anyway. You guys… when we leave Litchton, you’re not going to stay a secret forever.”

Honey swallows around a lump in her throat, lips pinched together tightly.

“We can keep it a secret as long as we’d like,” Trevor snaps. His hand grips Honey’s knee, holding her still on top of him. He squeezes Honey’s leg in a way that she thinks signals comfort, but it doesn’t quite feel that way. She sees what Jack is saying.

He continues. “You know why we came here in the first place, Trevor. It was your idea. I know those girls broke into my lake house, but you were there too. I wasn’t the only one they wanted to see. People aren’t going to just leave you alone, you know that.”

“Girls broke into your house?” Honey asks. The boys might’ve told her that before, but she doesn’t remember it– she feels like she would remember it. 

Trevor sighs heavily. “Yeah, that’s why we came here. Cole and I wanted to get away and we convinced the boys to come with. I couldn’t take another summer of everyone knowing who we were and treating us like that. Even though it’s fun to be known, it’s exhausting when shit like that happens.”

“It’s not going to stop happening,” Jack says. “But, like, me? I’d rather you guys let people know on your own terms. Especially the guys– I think Luke has a feeling already and Cole is a mystery to me, but you don’t want them to find out from other fucking people. I don’t want them to find out from me, but if Luke asks… you know I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Maybe you should figure that out about yourself–” Trevor starts.

Honey interrupts. “You’re right.”

Trevor snaps his mouth shut and looks at Honey. “He’s right?”

Honey takes a breath. “I think it’s time the boys know. They’re the only two left that don’t know and it’s not really fair to keep things a secret from them anymore. The Thomas thing isn’t really holding me back anymore, so… why not?”

“Are you sure?” Trevor asks. His question is like a prod to Honey’s side, trying to get her attention.

Honey leans her head back on Trevor’s bicep and smiles at him, close-lipped and soft. She nods. “I think it’s time, Trev.” She misses Jack fist pumping behind her, but she does catch the glare that Trevor shoots him. Honey touches his sternum and brings his attention back to her face. 

Trevor surveys every inch of her expression and stares into Honey’s eyes, searching for some trace of doubt. Honey lets none of that shine through. 

The only doubt that she has involves the public, not the guys. Trevor’s fans knowing things about Honey is different than Luke and Cole finally being let in on the secret. A conversation about their private life going public eventually, just due to Trevor’s status, is something that will have to come later. Honey doesn’t want to talk about that right now. She’s already lucky that she doesn’t have Instagram anymore, having deleted it after leaving Charlotte. She’s sure that the second Trevor posts her, or the second she hypothetically posted him, it would be over for them. Their little bubble would pop.

“Okay,” Trevor says simply. “Let’s tell them.”

“Tonight,” Honey states.

“Tonight.”

“Finally.” Jack leans forward and hits play on the remote, starting the next episode. “I thought I was going to have to convince you a lot more.”

“Shut up, Jack,” Trevor tells him. 

Jack flicks his middle finger up at Trevor, and Honey smacks it away. 

When the front door bangs open, Honey’s legs fly off Trevor’s lap and she straightens up. She fixes her shirt out of habit, even though her boobs have been covered by the fabric– Trevor only got to them through the sides of her shirt. They might be telling the rest of the group when they traipse downstairs, but Honey doesn’t think that she should have her body thrown all over Trevor’s while they talk about it. 

Bea comes down the stairs first, hugging a bucket of popcorn to her body with one arm. “Hey,” she greets. She sets the popcorn bucket on the table and settles in the armchair, tossing her legs over the arm of the chair and facing the TV. “Feeling better, Missy Prissy?” She’s giggling at Jack when she spouts the nickname.

“Don’t call me that,” Jack complains. “And yes, I am feeling better.”

Quinn and the boys came down the steps behind Bea. Quinn goes to the armchair and pretends not to see Bea, lowering himself down slowly as if he’s going to sit right on the curve of her body. 

Bea laughs and squeals at Quinn, pushing him away. “Hey, you’re going to squish me!”

Quinn gasps in faux-surprise. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even see you there!” He lifts Bea and spins them around so he can sit in the chair and bring Bea back into position on the chair with him, just draped over his lap now. 

Luke and Cole head to the ping pong table to play, but Honey calls to them. “Hey, can y’all come sit? I have something to tell you,” she says.

Luke’s eyebrows raise and his eyes go to Jack immediately. 

Honey wants to roll her eyes and shake her head. Of course he looks straight to Jack, she thinks. The boy who can’t lie. What are the odds he already told Luke, even though he swore he didn’t? Honey pushes that thought to the side.

Cole sits on the loveseat and Luke comes to lean against the wall. He doesn’t sit down.

“What’s up, doc?” Cole asks, his voice entirely full of jokes and laughter. “You look awfully serious. Who died, Hon?”

“No one died,” Honey says. 

Bea frowns at Honey. Her fingers drop from the back of Quinn’s head, where they were petting through his hair. “You okay?”

Honey nods. “I’m fine,” she confirms. “I just wanted to tell you guys that Trevor and I are dating.”

“Oh. I already knew that,” Bea states. She turns back to Quinn and twirls a curl between her fingers. 

Luke crosses his arms over his chest and starts to laugh. One of his hands comes up to cover his mouth. “Are you kidding?” 

“What’s funny?” Trevor asks, sounding offended. He puts his arm over Honey’s shoulders.

“That��s your big news?” Luke asks. He mirrors Honey’s nod, crooked smile overtaking his face. “Obviously you’re together. You’re wearing his sweatpants right now. You two have been fucking since Jamie was in town and you were interested in each other way before that.”

Honey gapes at him. Trevor gapes at him. Jack shrugs as if he’s saying ‘I told you so.’

“Huh?” Cole bursts out. “You two have not been fucking that long. Have you?”

“You knew?” Bea asks, half-scoffing and half-laughing.

“It wasn’t my business, I just wanted to give Trevor a hard time every time he lied about being on Raya,” Cole says. “There aren’t any girls on Raya here. I checked! There aren’t any girls on Raya within fifty miles of here.”

“When do you think we started hooking up?” Honey demands. 

“Well, he’d been having sex dreams about you for weeks,” Cole brushes the matter off nonchalantly. “But I figured you guys finally hooked up when we all got high together and he was texting you about eating you out and getting his dick inside you.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “You saw that?”

Cole laughs. “Yeah, dude. My head was laying on your lap. You were holding the phone right in front of me. You’re not slick. Was it really the third week when you started hooking up?”

Trevor looks past Honey to Jack. “You really can’t keep a secret.”

“I didn’t say shit to them!” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah, Jack didn’t say anything,” Luke says with a frown. “Don’t blame this on him. You guys are just obvious. I’m surprised you didn’t hook up immediately after the whipped cream thing. We saw how hard you were when Honey put her fingers in your waistband, Trevor.”

“Yeah!” Cole interjects. “I designed that fucking thing and you guys didn’t even take advantage of it! What’s that about?”

Honey suddenly feels like she’s on trial. “Whatever,” she sneers. “You guys suck.”

Cole throws his head back, laughing. “We suck ‘cause we’ve been trying to get you idiots together since May? Fuck off, Honey.”

Honey glares at him in reply, but it’s hard to keep a straight face. It’s even harder to keep a laugh inside when she looks to Bea for support and finds her with her index finger pressed against the tip of her nose, pushing it back. She looks a bit like she’s got a pig snout and Honey snorts.

Which, in turn, makes Bea laugh.

Then everyone is laughing. 

Honey turns her head into Trevor’s neck, curling into his side, and feigns a scowl at the others in the room. “You guys ruined my big news.”

Luke leaves the wall and goes to the ping pong table. Cole joins him, squeezing Honey’s shoulder when he walks behind her on the couch. “Sorry, Honeybun,” he apologizes without feeling. His smile is still evident on his voice. 

“Whatever,” Honey repeats. She kicks Jack’s thigh. “Just play the stupid show.”

Jack laughs and hits play for a third time on The Office.“If it makes you feel better, I really didn’t know until you told me the other night,” he offers. “I thought I was dreaming when I saw you sleeping together in the hammock.”

Honey groans and covers her face with her hands.

Trevor pulls Honey’s legs back onto his lap and slides his arm through the armhole of her muscle tee, rubbing his hand over her back slowly. They sit like that for the rest of the night.

83:90 – TREVOR

“That’s the ugliest sofa I’ve ever seen in my life,” Cole laughs, pointing at a piece of furniture across Joan’s yard. 

Trevor joins in on the laughter, following the guys over to the part of the yard laden with larger items. He sits down on the tacky couch with Luke, splaying his fingers over the plaid, contrasing colors. The fabric is kind of itchy and coarse, but it seems like it was once soft. Perhaps it’s some sort of velvet, just different than any velvet Trevor has ever seen. 

The couch is mostly green, although it’s overlaid with pinks and oranges and yellows, plus the occasionally blended blue. The edges are dark, smooth wood and Trevor likes that– he runs his fingers over the polished edges and makes himself comfortable.

The girls are shopping around, so they’ll be here for a while. It’s been an all day event, going from house to house in Litchton and finding trinkets. 

Trevor has been tasked with carrying Honey’s things, the ones that don’t fit in her little mesh bag that she uses to bag fruit from the stand on Mondays. He’s got a crocheted shawl over his shoulders and a leather belt looped across his chest like a crossbody bag. He feels like Indiana Jones. He’s also got a pair of driving gloves in his pocket, which are such a bright blue that Honey declared that she had to have them. The boys have been making fun of him all day, but Trevor likes being Honey’s personal coatrack. If that makes him whipped– and he knows he’s whipped– then so be it. Walking around with his arm over Honey’s shoulders, keeping her tight against his body, is more than enough to make up for all the jeers and chirps from his friends.

Quinn’s doing almost the same thing as Trevor, but he’s only got a jewelry box from Sacha’s house– painted and decorated by her young granddaughter, who Bea talked with for about fifteen minutes before paying five dollars more than she should’ve for the box– and a flowery apron that Bea bought from a woman Trevor didn’t know. He hasn’t even put the apron on, which Trevor thinks is a waste. It’s got a cute design. 

Honey and Bea come over to the couches, each of them holding a shoebox. Bea settles on Quinn’s lap and Honey sits on the arm of the couch next to Trevor. He wraps his arm around her and settles his hand on her hip.

Honey runs her fingers over the cushion behind Trevor. “I love this couch,” she says, just to herself and Trevor.

“You do?” he asks. He looks down at the fabric. It’s still ugly and tacky and too much contrast for his eyes.

“Love it,” Honey repeats, nodding in confirmation. “The colors are so fun. I’d put this in my living room and keep it forever.” Her fingers find the price tag and she frowns. “But not for $75. I don’t know how I’d get it to my house anyway… and I already have a couch.” She sighs with her whole body and flicks open the lid of the shoebox, pulling out a stack of pictures and thumbing through them. “I’ll get over it. Maybe Joan will still have the couch next year.”

Before she even finished speaking, Trevor had made up his mind. He’s buying this couch for Honey. He’ll surprise her with it. $75 is nothing to him. He’ll put it in his apartment, front and center, and when she visits him in Anaheim for the first time, it’ll be there waiting for her. She’ll see that he’s been making space for her in his life for as long as they’ve been together. 

“Whatcha got there?” Trevor asks, peeking into the shoebox.

Honey turns the pictures toward Trevor. “Just old Litchton pictures. I like looking at this stuff. They’re like ten cents each. Four for 25¢.”

Trevor hums. He rubs his hand up and down Honey’s side as she flicks through the photos, listening to the boys talk amongst themselves. They’re trying to decide what to do tonight and who’s going to cook dinner. 

Honey and Bea pass pictures back and forth. Quinn files the ones that they want to buy into the empty jewelry box Bea bought.

“Hey.” Trevor pokes Honey’s side. “Where does Joan get her fruit?”

“She’s got a grove out back, but most of the stuff is grown on a farm down the road,” Honey replies. “I bet she’ll show it to you if you ask. She’s over there.” She points toward the driveway of the house.

Trevor spots Joan almost immediately. She’s chatting with a middle-aged man who is holding a porcelain lamp in his hand. Trevor expects that they’re haggling. 

When he stands to go talk with Joan– the perfect opportunity to tell her not to sell this ugly couch until he can come back with a truck or a uHaul– Trevor plants a casual kiss on Honey’s lips before walking away. He gets to do that now. The boys will hum and haw about it each time for at least the next two days, but he gets to lay one on her whenever he wants now. Because everyone knows. It’s the greatest feeling.

Honey dips her head and smiles to herself when Jack whoops, then Luke follows. Trevor tweaks her cheek and walks off.

“You’ll give me fifteen for that lamp, Matthew, it is a bonafide antique,” Joan says with an air of finality as Trevor approaches. 

Matthew grumbles, but he tucks the lamp under his arm and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He thumbs through a couple of notes, counting them out before he hands over the cash. Trevor intercepts Joan as soon as Matthew departs.

“Joan, I was wondering,” Trevor says, his hand catching her elbow for a moment to fully gain her attention. “Honey said you’ve got a garden out back. Could I see it?”

Joan smiles. “I’m a bit busy, Trevor. I’ve got to preside over this yard sale, sweetheart. Why don’t you come by tomorrow evening and you can help me pick some goods out for the stand on Monday?”

Manual labor? Trevor questions to himself. He doesn’t expect to be paid for the work, but he can make this work in his favor. “Sure, if you can help me get that couch to the house I rented for the summer,” Trevor offers. He twitches his head toward the ugly couch where his group sits. “Honey wants it, but she won’t buy it for herself. I want to surprise her with it.”

Joan quirks an eyebrow. “Have you got a truck, young man?”

Trevor makes a face. “No. Can I borrow yours?”

“I don’t have a truck,” Joan laughs. “I’ve got a refrigerated van. Where do you think all the fruit goes, Trevor? I can’t fit it all in my refrigerator, even for one night a week.” She’s teasing, but then she turns serious. “And I’m not putting a piece of furniture in my nice van.” She looks past Trevor’s shoulder, her eyes softening as she looks at the group there. Joan looks back at Trevor and continues. “If you come back with a truck, though, you can have the couch for free.”

Trevor agrees in a heartbeat. The only problem now is… how the hell is he going to get a truck on such short notice?

“Hey, Zegras!” Bea shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. “We’re going to the next location. Are you coming with or are you going to keep flirting with taken women?”

Trevor glares at her. He’s not flirting, which Bea knows, but now everyone at the yard sale is looking at him. She wanted to embarrass him and she has succeeded. Even Honey is laughing, so he lets it go. “I’ll be back tomorrow with a truck,” Trevor tells Joan. “Don’t let anyone else buy that couch before I can pick it up.”

“Darling, nobody wants that couch,” Joan assures Trevor. “I’ve been bringing that out during our yard sales for five years. This is just the first time Honey made her way to my house on a day like today.”

Honestly, Trevor believes her. It’s a terrible couch. It’s comfortable even though it’s slightly itchy, but it’s also ugly and it doesn’t match anything. It’s a piece that you have to build the room around, not that you can throw into an existing room. 

Honey doesn’t care. She loves it. Trevor believes that she’ll be able to fit it seamlessly into her living room if that’s what she wants to do. He is going to get that truck and pick up this sofa for Honey.

He returns to the group, walking behind the girls as they put the shoeboxes of pictures back on the table from which they came. Honey shuffles a couple of dollars into Joan’s hand as they leave, piling into Quinn’s big rental car. Quinn and Bea sit in the front, wrestling Jack away from the shotgun door when he tries to steal it from Bea. Jack and Cole are in the middle seats, then Honey, Luke, and Trevor are in the back.

They pull right into the driveway of the next stop. It’s late in the evening, nearly dinner time, so Trevor is hoping that this will be their last stop. When he sees Vera in the front lawn, Trevor thinks it will be.

A realization hits Trevor. He stares at the truck parked in front of their car, rusty bumper and all. He knows that the truck bed is big enough for a couch– it’s big enough for five boys to fit in the back with plenty of extra space. His head whips toward the front porch of the house– Earl is there, sitting in a rocking chair, asleep.

He will use Earl’s truck tomorrow to pick up Honey’s couch, even if he has to grovel and beg the old man.

They exit the vehicle like a clown-car. Honey tucks her arm behind her back and makes a grabbing motion, knowing that Trevor is behind her. Trevor slips his hand into hers and they walk into the yard sale hand-in-hand.

“Oh, my word!” Vera exclaims when she spots them. “You two finally figured that out, did you?”

Honey blushes. Trevor laughs. “I had a feeling you ladies knew all along,” Honey murmurs, rolling her eyes fondly. “I’m surprised you didn’t let me know exactly how you felt from the first day.”

“Babygirl, I would’ve if you’d have listened to me,” Vera teases. She shakes her head and waves her hand, brushing them off.  “I knew you’d get there eventually. Plus, Earl’s been telling me to butt out of other people’s business since our boy decided to get a divorce.”

“Hm, that sounds like him,” Honey says with a smile. “Is he sleepin’ again?” Her little accent always gets thicker when she talks to the knitting ladies, probably because their Appalachian accents are so heavy and prominent. 

Vera glares at her husband from over her shoulder. “Yes. He’s always sleeping on the job. There ain’t been a yard sale in the past fifteen years that this man hasn’t fallen asleep at, in that same damn rocking chair.”

“Maybe next year, you’ll have to sell the rocking chair,” Trevor jokes good-naturedly. 

Vera loses herself in thought for a second, tapping her chin. “You know, that’s not a bad idea, Trevor. I might just have to do that next year.”

Honey chuckles. “Just don’t tell Earl it was Trevor’s idea. He’ll never forgive him.”

Vera locks her lips and gives them a wink.

“Hon, come look at this,” Bea calls. “It’s perfect for tomorrow.”

Honey’s eyes light up. She releases Trevor’s hand and pushes him away. “Go, go look at something else.”

Trevor makes himself limp against her hands. “I wanna see what you’re so excited about.”

“It’s a secret,” Honey whines. “Let me surprise you.” She kisses Trevor’s jaw, distracting him with the fleeting brush. “Shoo.” She pushes Trevor off with one final shrug. 

Trevor grins, shit-eating and annoying, at Honey. He’s going to take the chance to talk to Earl while Honey is occupied. The boys won’t bother him either– Vera has commandeered Cole to get him to move some boxes and the Hughes brothers are wandering through the aisles of junk and tchotchkes that Earl and Vera are selling.

Trevor climbs the stairs of the porch, crossing the wooden slats with light feet. He sinks into the rocking chair next to Earl as the man opens one eye. 

“What do you want?” Earl grunts. “Waking me up, stomping over here without a care in the world. Being disrespectful to my house, boy.”

Trevor just bites the bullet. “I need to borrow your truck tomorrow night.”

Earl curls his lip and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No.”

“C’mon, man,” Trevor complains. “You let Bea borrow your truck.”

“I’ve known Miss McLean for five years and I rode in the truck with her behind the wheel three times before I let her take it on her own,” Earl replies. “I love my truck and I’m not letting you wreck it.”

So Trevor grovels. “Please,” he sing-songs in a sugary-sweet voice. He clasps his hands together in a praying position and bends forward, entreating Earl. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Earl side-eyes her. “My truck ain’t a boat. It ain’t no ‘she.’”

“I have a clean license and it’s not set to expire for another couple of years,” Trevor says. “I’ve never gotten into a wreck and I swear I won’t let tomorrow be the first time.”

“I said no, Trevor.”

Trevor heaves out a huge sigh. He sits in silence for a second, rocking his chair and gazing out into the yard. 

Earl closes his eyes to go back to sleep.

“It’s for Honey,” Trevor says after a minute. He listened to the wind blow through the chimes hung in the corner of the ceiling of the porch before he spoke. “Joan has the world’s ugliest couch on her lawn and Honey loves it. It’s a horrible mix of colors and it’s kind of velvety and itchy, but she had to convince herself that it wasn’t worth it. She can’t spend $75 on it. She doesn’t have the means to move it.”

Earl gives no sign that he’s listening. Trevor knows that he is.

“I need your truck so I can buy the couch. I can’t decide if I want to swap it with her couch while she’s hanging out with Bea, or if I want to put it in my apartment and surprise her when she comes to visit me for the first time. I think the look on her face would be worth it a few months down the line, once she’s forgotten about it,” Trevor continues. 

He watches Honey dig through a box and pass a bundle of fabric to Bea, nodding. Bea nods and admires it, running her fingers over the fabric before slipping it into a quilted bag that she must have found on another table. 

“The couch won’t fit in my car. So I need to borrow your truck,” Trevor repeats. “I promise I will take care of it and fill it with gas when I’m done.”

Earl squints at Trevor. “When do you need it?”

A blossom of hope blooms in Trevor’s chest. That’s basically a yes. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Earl makes a noise like a humph. “Come to the hardware store at 4. I’ll drive you. We’ll keep the couch here until you can find some movers to take it to your place. It’ll stay in the apartment above the garage. Finally, it’ll be good for something.”

Earl lays out the plan with such conviction that Trevor knows he can’t say no. This is the most the Earl will budge, simply because Trevor explained that he’s doing it for Honey. So the old man does have a heart– he’s a softie, like Honey says.

“Do you think you can still carry a couch, old man?” Trevor teases.

Earl grabs the newspaper on his lap and rolls it up, swinging at Trevor. He dodges it. “Boy, get off’a my porch before I take my offer back.”

Trevor laughs, but scurries away from Earl like a convict who just dug his way out of jail with a spoon.

84:90 – HONEY

The silk beneath Honey’s fingers is smooth and light, but that doesn’t mean it’s not intimidating. The baby blue color and the cream colored lace around the neckline and the hem of the shorts are beautiful, but not enough to offset Honey’s hesitation. This beautiful, vintage slip with thin spaghetti straps and a lightly cinched waist was purchased yesterday for one specific purpose: to give Trevor something to remember Honey by while he’s gone. 

Of course, they’ll be calling each other and texting all the time during the season, but the principle stands. Honey wants to give Trevor something sexy and, quite frankly… she wants to prove to herself that she does trust him with something as intimate as a series of photos. 

It was an idea Honey had after Trevor went cold on Thomas, but she’d let it go. It resurfaced when they’d hooked up in the car after visiting her parents on Monday, when Trevor had run his hands over the curves of her body and whispered, “I wish there was a way for me to remember this perfectly, forever.” Since then, it’s been weighing on her mind. The idea to take pictures for Trevor has never been far from the forefront of her brain. 

She debated back and forth until yesterday. Honey had told Bea, just to try and talk it out and come to a decision, and then they’d found a box of pretty clothes that Vera had sewn when she was side-hustling as a seamstress. She said that the clothes had never been worn, since she’d never sold them before they opened the hardware store, which made Honey feel better. She was not going to buy lingerie from Vera if it was… used. Honey shudders to think about that. Luckily, Vera assured them that she would not sell that sort of thing. She’s a God-fearing woman, she says, and she will not participate in that type of public indecency. Vera, appartently, has dignity to spare.

It was a bit dramatic, but it made Honey laugh, and she loved this piece. It’s so her. The baby blue contrasts her tanned summer skin and her pierced nipples are going to brush against the silk like how clean bedsheets soothe freshly-shaven legs. 

Still, the hesitation remains. It’s very real to Honey, that she’s taking sexy pictures of herself for the first time since her nudes were leaked when she was 17, but there are a few things to console her. One: she won’t be stripping down. She’ll be wearing this slip, which covers everything but still reveals enough to pique the imagination. Two: the photos will be physical copies rather than electronic. They’ll be taken on Honey’s polaroid camera, the same one that she and Cole used when modeling their matching t-shirts. Three: the person taking the photos is very trustworthy. Bea would sooner bite the bullet by her own hand rather than share Honey’s photos, even if she was mad at Honey and wanted to get back at her, while Thomas was the opposite. Four: Trevor has assured Honey over and over again, and he will continue to reassure Honey as long as he needs to, that he will never treat her the way that Thomas did. Honey believes him and she wants to show him that she believes him and trusts him– so this is what she’s decided to do.

She takes a deep breath and eases her robe off. She just took a shower and styled her hair the way she thinks Trevor will most enjoy. It’s slightly messy, but cascading down her back in curls. About halfway through the photoshoot, Honey expects that she’ll get overstimulated and tie her hair up on top of her head in her classic bun. Trevor likes that too and he’ll enjoy being able to see the planes of her back, whereas they were hidden before.

Honey slides into the baby blue slip carefully. Since it’s old, and spent decades in a box in Vera’s attic, she’s worried about breaking the seams or tugging on the straps too much. By being careful, she’ll keep it in such pristine condition that she can continue to admire it for years to come. It’s a pretty piece of fabric. 

She tilts her head at herself in the mirror. Honey likes how she looks, but her reflection almost seems like a different version of herself. It’s still her, but her reflection just shows how much she’s changed and grown since the beginning of the summer. She smiles at herself.

“You ready?” Bea asks, knocking on the wall of Honey’s bedroom. She’d been banished from the loft while Honey got ready, but she was only banished to the downstairs bathroom to put on her own outfit. 

Bea won’t be starring in many photos today, but she will be doing a couple. Her plan is to demonstrate poses and angles for Honey and if the pictures work out, she’ll hand them off to her boyfriend when he leaves. Part of it is because he won her whiteboard challenge and the reward for winning was a boudoir shoot, but the other part is because Bea actually wants to give Quinn something to look at when he’s in Vancouver and she’s still here. Honey can’t imagine handing a sexy photo to a boyfriend who is going to become an ex by the end of next week, knowing that he’ll keep it and look at it. Bea seems fine with it, always taking every new development in stride while maintaining her decision to break up with Quinn by the end of the summer. 

Honey is trying to be okay with it. Honey’s mom always used to say, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” so Honey is doing her best to stay silent when she disagrees with Bea. There’s nothing she can say to change Bea’s mind. It will just start a fight. She doesn’t want to fight with Bea when she’s already going through enough.

Bea managed to find a pink teddy that fits her aesthetic perfectly. It’s still girlish without being too pretty-princess-pink and innocent. It’s sexy. The flowing dress part that covers Bea’s stomach and falls halfway over her behind is sheer, while the cups of the bra push her cleavage up and make them look absurdly round. 

“Fake tits?” Honey asks.

Bea flashes a smile. “All real.” She puts her hands near her chest, emulating the snap portion of the ‘Bend and Snap,’ and poses. “I’m surprised how good they look in this, to be honest.” Her hands drop to her sides. “It’s literally fate that we both found shit that we like, that actually fits us well. You look cute, babe.”

“Well, I don’t want to look cute,” Honey says. “I want to look sexy.”

“You look sexy too, but you’re a taken lady, so who am I to comment on your bedroom appeal?” Bea laughs. She reaches out and fixes Honey’s strap, which had sllipped from her shoulder. She turns around in front of Honey, looking over her shoulder. “Do my panties match well enough?”

She’s wearing her ‘fuck-me’ panties, the pink pair that she loves. They’ve never done her wrong and, like fate (if Honey is using the same words as Bea), they match the teddy perfectly.

“Dude, they’re perfect,” Honey replies. She hums, the edges of her mouth tilting down into an evaluating frown. “I like them a lot.”

Bea shimmies her shoulders. “Oh, you like them a lot, huh?”

Honey laughs. “Fuck off.”

Bea crosses the room and picks up the polaroid on Honey’s bedside table, turning it on and moving it between her hands to get acquainted with the device again. It’s been a while since she used it. The last time was around Christmas, when they had a miniature photoshoot in the Nook after decorating. Bea points at the bed. “Okay, lay down, pillow princess. Let’s get you comfortable with the camera.”

Bea barks suggestions to Honey as she poses. They only have 24 photos for this, since polaroid film is so expensive and, as much as Honey loves Trevor, he does not need more than 20 photos to get the hint. He doesn’t need more than 15, really. The split that Honey and Bea decided is that she’ll get 16 of the polaroids and Bea will get eight. Honey expects that a couple of the photos will be entirely unusable, so she’ll probably end up with about 12. Bea might get five– but she’s also not that picky when it comes to photos.

The first picture is of Honey laying back against the pillows, one leg up and one leg stretched out. She rests her head on her fist, propping her elbow against the mattress. She turns onto her stomach next, popping her butt up and using the book on her nightstand as a prop, like she’s casually reading in sexy lingerie. Honey probably wouldn’t ever sit around and read in sexy clothing, because it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but Trevor Zegras doesn’t know that. He also probably thinks that a woman in lingerie, reading a big book and looking studious, is sexier than Honey without the book.

She transitions up to sit against the headboard, ruffling her hair like she’s stretching with a yawn. Bea snaps a picture of that, then snaps one of Honey settling back and lacing her fingers beneath her bent knee. 

The sexier pictures are more difficult. When Bea tells Honey to sit up on her knees and arch her back, they take two pictures that Honey hates before she tells Bea that she needs to demonstrate for her. 

The pictures turn out much better for Bea, almost like it’s effortless. If Honey didn’t know better, she’d swear that Bea has done this before. Either she’s done a lot of research or she’s a natural at this, spurred on by her confidence. Honey should really try that when it’s her turn.

The photos that she takes of Bea are a good demonstration, which Honey appreciates. She tries to emulate the positions when it’s her turn: kneeling up on the balls of her feet and pushing her chest out, spreading her thighs and W-sitting on the bed and leaning forward so that Bea can capture the V of her chest in the photo as well. Her straps slip down her shoulders again, but Honey doesn’t fix them. With each picture, she feels better and better.

By the end, she and Bea are trading pictures– one for Bea, two for Honey– and giggling as they develop. Bea is pointing at the ones that she thinks Trevor will “blow his load over without even touching himself” while Honey is waving the pictures that emphasize the round globes of Bea’s ass in the girl’s face and swearing that Quinn is going to freak.

Even if Honey wasn’t going to give these pictures away, the process still reclaims and twists her feelings from the past. For the past five years, she’s been uncomfortable in front of the camera unless she’s with Bea. She didn’t love it when there was a picture taken of just her, especially in the first year, fearing that it would be plastered everywhere online and somehow, in some insane way, her nudes would resurface and ruin her life again. 

Although Honey is going to press this stack of photos into Trevor’s hand shortly before he leaves Litchton, she feels like the photos are just for her right now. It’s like when she stared at her reflection– Honey is looking at a different person entirely. In the back of her mind, she knows that it’s herself, but Honey barely recognizes the girl in the photos. This girl is oozing sexual energy. Honey sees why this girl is sexy and believes it when Bea tells her that she looks amazing. She knows that her boyfriend will think the same thing and will probably jump her after he’s done looking through the pictures. 

That’s a different reaction than Thomas, too, but Honey is certain of it. Thomas used to go back to the pictures and videos Honey sent him and was balatant about it. Maybe it’s because he was a stupid 17 year old at the time, but Honey knew how much he liked the photos and asked for them, and she felt pressured to give them to him because she wanted to make him happy and she loved him. He started demanding them much more often when he started partying and abusing drugs and it started to feel like he would treat Honey as his personal OnlyFans model (before OnlyFans even existed). She was right there, but he liked the pictures more, and she still wanted him to like her, so she kept sending them. It backfired in a way that nearly killed her and certainly changed everything about her.

And Honey knows that Trevor’s eyes are going to go wide at the pictures, but he’s going to put them to the side and touch her after he sees them. He’s still going to prioritize her, as a real person, because that’s who Trevor is. He loves Honey, not the things that Honey does for him.

It’s the thing that she least expected when she turned to May on the calendar hanging in the back room of The Reading Nook. Honey wasn’t looking for anything at the beginning of the summer, and now she’s taking sexy pictures for her boyfriend and giggling about it as she looks over them. There’s nothing but giddiness coursing through her veins. Honey doesn’t want this to ever end.

[dsaf-reverse-au]

how come when i invert dave he's green BUT the opposite of purple on the color wheel is YELLOW and im not talking about lime green im talking GREEN GREEN. PINK and RED turns green. Look chat look

so what if Dave was actually pink and we've all been bamboozled

also im changing his color to yellow. I HAVE ENOUGH GREEN CHARACTERS AS IS.

I also forgot to add Tom (matts counterpart) so i have to do that. also i should robably start color-coding dialouge

also NO I AM NOT AVALIABLE OVER THE SUMMER!!! just needed 2 drop this

[wchswift]

⟡ maria!reader

ADDRESSED TO: director @daylighted of @campdaylighted.

CAMP DAYLIGHTED COUNSELOR APPLICATION .ᐟ.ᐟ

☼ name — maria. goes by “mari” but some campers call her " reddie" and she will answer if you're charming enough. Dean is the only one to call her “gingersnap” (some people think it's weird, and he always says it like he’s daring her to hate it—she pretends to, but never really does). 5'4. white. immigrant. latina—spanish dad, brazilian mom. Grew up on empanadas, bossa nova, and ghost stories. swears in portuguese when she’s pissed (which is rare, but memorable). big hazel eyes that flirt with blue under certain sunlight. sharp eyeliner, full bitten red lips, usually smirking. two small scars on her left knee (she says it was a tree, others say otherwise), freckled shoulders, always warm to the touch, even after midnight swims. and a lean and strong frame from years of dance, swimming, and climbing things “just because.”

crop tops + cargo pants. band tees tied at the waist. sports bras and oversized flannels. blood red or neon pink chipped nail polish—no in-between. muddy white sneakers. gold hoops. layered woven bracelets from campers + a leather anklet from age twelve she never takes off.

☼ personality — first to joke, last to trust. flirty without trying to be, chill, lowkey competitive. a wildfire underneath. sharp with her words, soft with her hands. the campfire storyteller with just enough bite in her tone to make you believe her ghost stories. observant and intuitive, she reads people easily. fiercely loyal once you’re in her circle, but that circle’s tight. has a "break glass in case of emergency" attitude when it comes to opening up emotionally. keeps her trauma funny, thanks. never loses her cool—even when she absolutely should. charming in a way that makes you question what she’s hiding (spoiler: something). has that “fun counselor” energy and definitely the counselor kids go to for secret candy, bad advice, or a shoulder to cry on. might leave a note in your cabin that says “get it together” in glitter pen. sometimes talks to herself in portuguese. whispers “porra” under her breath more than once a day. loves hard, argues harder. quietly intimidating in a way most can’t explain. always watching. always knowing more than she lets on.

☼ why she's here — used to come to Camp Daylighted every summer until she was 14. left after something strange happened in the woods and no one believed her. this is her first time back. she signed up last-minute after spotting the old camp flyer on a café bulletin board 3 towns over. says she’s here for the nostalgia, but there’s something in her eyes that says unfinished business.

☼ interests + hobbies — ✴︎ swimming, especially at night (even if the lake creeps her out). climbing trees just for the view and to prove she can. horror movies. urban legends. creepy folklore. knows every campfire story—sometimes adds her own. foraging and plant identification (she'll tell you which berries will kill you… then smile and offer you a handful) ✴︎ knife throwing (she says it’s “for fun,” but she's too good at it). night hikes + stargazing. DIY survival gear & first aid queen (always has a suspiciously well-stocked backpack). dancing barefoot to old tapes. can still hit the splits like it’s nothing. ✴︎ teaching campers how to make fire without matches. always smiles too wide when it finally lights. sketching landscapes in the margins of her journal. tarot, astrology, energy stuff she won’t admit she takes seriously

☼ vibe — campfire smoke in her hair. laughter that turns into a scream. wearing someone else's hoodie. eyes like secrets. a splash in the dark. the silence after something goes wrong. friendly, but you’ll never get all of her. not really. says she doesn’t care. cares too much. the kind of girl who would help you bury the body—but ask what they did first. sunshine when she wants to be. storm when she doesn’t. Dean often says she’s “trouble in a tank top.” she tells him to shut up. still always sits next to him at the fire.

☼ always has on her — silver lighter engraved with her nickname from her mom: “mar.” grandpa’s knife tucked in her sock. vintage red walkman + overplayed tapes. an old friendship bracelet from someone she won’t talk about. a photo strip from the last camp fair. half-ripped. the other half’s missing. a small notebook full of camp rumors, drawings, pressed leaves, cryptic notes in spanish and portuguese.

[lost-girl-2021]

I'll elaborate more later, but I'm coming off a 12 hour shift and about to sleep before my next 12 tonight, so enjoy the tight I had on my drive home this morning:

I see your (our, I also wrote this lol) City Kid Spider with his skateboard and asthma and raise you Country/Small Town Kid Spider.

Instead of a big city called Pandora, think of a small town in the middle of nowhere. There are more trees than people (as it should be, if you ask Kiri) and everybody knows everything about everyone. News travels fast, even faster if you post of the actual real life bulletin board outside the single grocery store in town (yes, it is a Walmart)

Spider lives in a treehouse him and his friends found as kids. He's run away so often they've stopped taking down the "Have You Seen Me?" Posters hung around town. Everyone knows that Spider guy lives in the woods. The younger kids drop off candy and cans from their Mama's pantry as offerings to the Lord of the Woods.

Some of the parents think he's on drugs, most of them tell their kids to steer clear of him. Better safe than sorry, when it comes to him. (Haven't you heard, his father killed his mother? He looks just like him, too.)

Quaritch doesn't quite fit into this world, but imagine he's from the Deep South, not this small town-almost a suburb-almost the country wishwash. (Think Tennessee vs Texas. Different cultures/experiences entirely) When meets his son, he's expecting a younger version of him, for lack of a better idea. He doesn't care if he's bad at school or has a bad attitude, he even expects it, cuz that's how he was at 15/16.

Spider is an amalgamation of all things Pandora. Pandora, with it's strong Native American ties and even stronger traditions. He wears his hair long like most of his friends do. He does hunt and fish and ride around on the Sully's ATV any chance he gets. He takes the familiar winding roads sharp and fast, his beat up, barely running truck gliding down the street like they're flying.

He does still have asthma, but this kid has not been to a doctor since he was ten and didn't care enough to pay attention to what his foster parents told him most of the time. That wheezy thing his chest does? Rub some dirt on it, he'll be fine. So what if he needs to sleep it off or pass out to feel better. He's fine. He's tough.

Jake is ofc from a big ass city, stationed in the city after an incident with the elementary school nobody will talk about. He met Neytiri, a police officer and the mayor's daughter, and she showed him the beauty of a small place like Pandora (knowing people you see walking the street, feeling safe enough to leave your doors unlocked, big town events, etc)

The whole reason Quaritch is the Bad Guy is because he was trying to (eh legally not really) evict/kick people off their land to drill for oil. Pesticides on farmer's crops, cutting fences, building expensive shops to drive the price up, etc.

Lo'ak and Neteyam are roughhousing, military kids who follow every order to a tee only to fuck around and find out every time they're left alone.

Kiri is the weird kid. She cut her hair short last summer and wears a lot of handmade bracelets that rattle whenever she moves. She wears overalls with daisys on them she painted herself and flowy flower patterns, only to pair it with the muddiest, ugliest boots you've ever seen. She talks back and took much for most people's liking and doesn't seem to care that people think she's weird. Or at least doesn't show it.

Tuk is loved and lovable across all universes.

Boom

Done.

For.now....

Bedtime. Goodnight.

[prismaticpichu]

Miscellaneous FF7 Floofcanons To Heal Me From Rebirth 💕

• Zack, unsure of how to properly use chopsticks just sticks them in his mouth and pretends to be a walrus. Angeal tells him to have some respect just before Sephiroth picks up his own chopsticks and imitates Zack

• Genesis, quietly reciting Loveless lines to Sephiroth as the man lays ill in bed. There’s a steaming bowl of soup on the nightstand that Angeal just brought in. Gradually, Sephiroth begins to fall asleep in the presence of his two treasured friends. Friends who had been gone all week on a mission, all the way across the continent, and now were back safe and sound by his side.

• Zack, bringing Aerith a handmade Cactuar plushie for her birthday and then proceeding to do the Dance™️

• Zack and Cloud, having claimed a table in the mess hall that they eat at every day together. Zack is often invited to sit with his posse of other SOLDIER buddies, but always chooses to stay right there with Cloud. The two share a bucket of french fries every Friday.

• Lazard, having access to the files, sending out a mass email to everyone in ShinRa informing people that it’s Sephiroth’s birthday; everyone chips in to throw a surprise party for their general—all orchestrated by Genesis and Angeal, who keep Sephiroth out of the base by taking him on a picnic

• Sephiroth and Zack, devising a plan where Seph secretly stitches Zack’s clothes back together every time he rips something on a mission. He always makes sure to mend the uniform before Angeal ever finds out.

• Cloud, writing anonymous appreciation letters to Sephiroth that he asks Zack to deliver; Zack delivers them personally, and Sephiroth always writes back thank you notes for Zack to deliver back

• Angeal and Genesis, getting Sephiroth a little fish to brighten up his office. Sephiroth names the animal “Yūjō”, which translates to “friendship.”

• Angeal and Genesis and Sephiroth, rotating between their apartments each Saturday for movie night. When Angeal invites Zack into the friend group, he added the tradition of bringing candy and soda.

• Angeal and Genesis, always making sure their schedule is clear on Mother’s Day so they can stay by Sephiroth’s side. The first time Genesis and Angeal used their permission to deny a mission as a First was so they could be with their friend that day.

• Angeal, always making sure to have Zack’s favorite dinner prepared for whenever he returns from missions. Genesis always makes sure the TV remote is free while Sephiroth greets Zack in the hallway. He asks for his usual “secret Zack hug”, and the two only go inside once it’s been given.

• Angeal and Sephiroth & Genesis, all tutoring Zack to give Zack the education he missed out on when he ran away from home at age 13. Genesis focuses on art and literature, Angeal focuses on history, and Sephiroth focuses on math and science.

• Tseng, delivering Zack a hefty check on his birthday with a little note that reads “SOLDIERs really should be paid equal”

• Zack, putting up a bulletin board over his bed that reads “Home”. Over his time at ShinRa, the sparse photos of his parents and childhood are gradually joined by photos from missions and his fondest memories with Genesis, Angeal, Sephiroth, Cloud, Kunsel, the Turks, and all his other treasured friends

• Zack and Sephiroth, cocooned in each other’s arms as they lie in bed together. Their heads are touching, their eyes are closed. And in that delicate moment Zack mumbles, “you and me, Seph…” To which Sephiroth softly completes with, “forever.”

This has been your friendly dose of Pichu. Hope you have a wonderful night! <3

[aaronstveit]

random rambling about what is on my mind today

there is a blue sticky note pinned to the bulletin board in my bedroom. for eight years, this sticky note has gone everywhere with me. it’s faded now and the edges are curling up, but i can still read the writing clear as day. in dark, deliberate cursive, it says: it will get better.

a clichéd phrase, i know. but what what you have to understand is this: in 2016, i was a closed queer teen in an ultra-red state. i am now an openly queer woman in an ultra-red state, eight years later when so much has changed and so little has changed. but in 2016 i was 16 years old, and i was so frightened all the time. i was frightened and sad and angry in ways that nobody seemed to understand or even to notice. pretty much everyone feels that way when they're a teenager, i know. but knowing that doesn't mean that it feels any less scary.

i didn't go to school the day after the 2016 election. i was too anxious, to the point that it made me physically sick, and anyway, i knew that i couldn't face my classmates yet. not when they were already so obnoxious, not when i knew they would only be emboldened by their victory. i stayed home and i cried, and i tried and failed to imagine any way to go forward.

after school, i got a message from a classmate of mine. val and i were friends, in the way that you sit together in some of your classes and you talk about random stuff. we didn't see each other outside of school or eat lunch together, but still, we were friendly. val was messaging me to see why i wasn't at school, and to tell me about the assignments i missed.

when val asked how i was feeling, i told her the truth: i felt helpless. sad and scared, and absolutely dismayed at the world we were growing into. val told me she felt the same, but that we were going to be okay. i appreciated the sentiment, but i didn't particularly believe her. that's just the type of thing you say to each other when things seem particularly dark, right?

the next day, i returned to school with my earbuds in and my eyes cast low. i still had not figured out how to muddle through, but i had too many classes that i just couldn't afford to miss, so i fell back into my routine.

val found me before class that day. i thought she was just going to tell me about classwork or maybe offer another meaningless platitude. instead, she handed me something without a word and walked away, before i could even say "thank you?"

it was a candy bar, with a little blue sticky note on it. it will get better. she had gone out of her way to find out a candy that i liked and to give it to me on a day when i was having a hard time. when both of us were having a hard time.

i went to the bathroom, and i cried until the bell rang.

it was such a small thing. the smallest thing, in fact. a piece of candy and a cliché note. but i would be lying if i said that that tiny, tiny thing didn't change my life. somebody that i only sort of knew went out of her way to do something kind for me, just because she could. while i had been feeling hopeless, val had chosen to do something kind for someone else.

everywhere i have lived for more than a few days on end, i have taken this note with me and put it up on the wall. i look at this note every day, and i try to embody not only its words, but its intentions. i tell myself, one tiny random act of kindness changed my life. maybe i can do this for someone else, too. whenever i feel hopeless, i picture this note in my head; i could recreate it from memory, if necessary. i don't know val anymore — we graduated and went our separate ways — but i take her everywhere with me. i take her kindness, so unexpected and so worldchanging.

when i woke up this morning, the first thing i did was look at that note. and even though i still felt fucking sad and fucking angry and fucking sick to my stomach, some of the tension left my shoulders as i thought about 16-year-old val, sitting down and carefully writing out that note for me, just because she could.

i don't know what point i'm trying to make. be kind to yourself, and be kind to others. do something for someone, just because you can. don't give up. it all sounds so trivial, but that doesn't make it any less true. love each other, even when it's hard. especially when it's hard. i love you. if i could, i would hand each and every one of you your favorite candy bar today and a little blue sticky note. but i can't, so i'm telling you about it instead, and i hope that maybe it makes you feel just a little less alone, like it did for me.

[endcant]

Crossposted from my Tumblr Community: The Trans South

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The Trans South Monthly Bulletin Board

Our pinned post for the month of November, 2024.

comment anything you want to add, and i'll add what fits in this month's post. i'll be making a new post each month, so you may need to resubmit any links that are applicable for multiple months. check the comments for anything i missed!

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the bright side:

the fact that you're alive is good news to me!

"Good News: Some States Passed Protections for Abortion Access, Marriage Equality, and More" | Here is an article with some upshots and progress from the 2024 election.

"Lipstick Lounge Owners Break Ground on Sports Bar Venture" | "The Lipstick Lounge is one of only 32 open and operating lesbian bars in the United States registered with the Lesbian Bar Project."

"Florida's LGBTQ+ community defies queer repression with advocacy & preservation" | "I will not paint a desolate picture of the state. And, there still is hope."

"The Candy Shop: Columbia SC Rallies to Honor Landmark Black Gay Bar" | "Researchers and preservationists at Historic Columbia have joined the struggle to correct the way the club has thus far been "written over" in the historical record."

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TTS crowdfunds:

help fellow transgender people in your community today!

Catgirl-smash needs help with bills and moving!

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fun links:

things that gave me dopamine and kept me going

Read "When We Call a Place Home" by Chinelo Onwualu | "A utopian tale of historical memory, the dangers of forgetting…and vampires."

WEBFISHING | "WEBFISHING is a multiplayer chatroom-focused fishing game! Relax and fish (on the web!)"

Memory Games | I've been using these memory games to try to heal my brain a bit from long covid brain fog.

Mahogany's List of Black Banned Books | Read some books they don't want you to read!

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useful links:

interesting resources and organizations you should know about

Trans Reads | "Trans Reads is an ambitious project created by and for transgender people to openly access writing related to our communities."

Southerners On New Ground | "SONG is a home for LGBTQ liberation across all lines of race, class, abilities, age, culture, gender, and sexuality in the South".

Winners from The LGBTQ+ Victory Fund | Check out this list of winning LGBTQ+ candidates for various political offices from around the U.S. who were supported by the Victory Fund.

Lambda Legal's Help Desk | "a resource for the community we serve in providing general legal information and resources relating to discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity and gender expression, and HIV status."

Every State has a DD Council! | Did you know that it's federal law that every state must have a council whose job it is to hold their state accountable on behalf of developmentally disabled people?

Help the Palestinian People with a Click | "Your free click generates donations from our sponsors. Remember, you may click once a day, every day. Donations raised will go to UNRWA to assist the Palestinian refugees."

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If you're an adult trans person in the U.S. South, join my Tumblr Community: The Trans South.

If you're a teen trans person in the U.S. South and you create a youth community for trans southerners, let me know and I'll link to it in The Trans South.