#me when bea gives me a reason to rant

[man-i-love-folklore]

are we just not going to talk about the fact that too sweet is four million streams from getting a billion on spotify??

i saw that!!!! we definitely SHOULD be talking about it because holy freaking shit is that an accomplishment.

as someone that has been hearing this song since it was just a snippet floating around the internet in early march, it has been crazy to watch Too Sweet evolve into the hit that it is today. Of all the songs to bring about the Mainstream Hozier Renaissance, i wouldn't have expected it to be Too Sweet but i'm happy that it was, especially since it was a gateway for a lot of people to realize he didn't just drop Take Me To Church and disappear for ten years. to think it was a song that almost never saw the light of day and now it has almost ONE BILLION STREAMS!!! IN LIKE SEVEN MONTHS!!!! THATS INSANE!!!!

i am a Too Sweet defender. is it one of his best songs? no. is it a bop? absolutely. and i will be celebrating the moment it hits a billion streams.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | july 15 - july 21

50:90 – HONEY

“Maybe this sounds stupid, but I didn’t think it would be so cold at the rink,” Bea says. She’s got a thin zip-up hoodie on over a t-shirt and a pair of leggings. She’s wearing long socks because Honey told her that she needed to go change out of her Birkenstocks and put on real shoes– “like, sneakers, Bea”– so that she didn’t get frostbite.

Honey’s only been to an ice rink once, on a date with Thomas just before Christmas when they first started dating. She had been dressed for the Charlotte winter in her big puffy coat and gloves, but she had worn jeans and thin socks that day, and she thought her toes would fall off by the end of the date. They were only at the rink for an hour and she made Thomas turn the heat to 80º in his car on the drive home so that she could thaw out.

Bea definitely wouldn’t have made it through the boys’ practice in Birkenstocks. That’s why they’re in Charlotte today.

It took Trevor an hour on the phone to convince Honey to come with him to Charlotte, since Jack had invited Bea along to practice. She feels a little trapped in the city, but as long as they’re in the Coliseum, Honey isn’t looking over her shoulder the whole time. After all, it’s only the seven of them in the rink besides a few workers that are doing their own thing. The boys are on the ice and she and Bea are on the home bench, sitting and watching the boys run a passing drill.

“It also echoes a lot more than I thought,” Bea adds. “Qu– they’ll smack the ice with their sticks and it, like, reverberates.” 

Despite her correction, Honey doesn’t miss the way that Bea was going to mention Quinn by name. She also hasn’t missed how Quinn has been showing off during practice– he’s never been the type to gloat, but every time he does something well or scores on one of the others, he looks over at Bea to see if she’s been watching.

But she hasn’t been watching him. Bea has been resolutely ignoring Quinn as much as she can, only sneaking a look when he’s completely enraptured with what he’s doing in that moment. 

“Why have you been acting weird?” Honey asks, the question bursting out of her like a cannonball. “Him blue-balling you one time isn’t that big of a deal, you know.”

Bea presses her lips together and rubs a fist over one of her eyes. She sighs and turns to face Honey, swinging her leg over the bench to straddle it. “I have been giving him so much attention,” she says. “It’s messing with me, honestly. I’m so attached to him, but it’s just not reasonable for me to be this attached.”

“Why not?” Honey prods. Bea sounds much more rational than the previous morning, when she hijacked the phone call between Honey and Trevor to rant about Quinn. That’s a good sign– or maybe it’s not, because Bea’s starting to sound a little resolute about her choice. She’s always been the kind to make up her mind and stubbornly stick with her decision, even if it turns out to be the wrong one.

Bea spreads her hands out to her sides and shrugs, an ironic laugh bubbling up from her chest. “He’s leaving.”

“So, what? You can’t visit him? You can’t talk to him on the phone?” Honey demands. “There are options, Bea.”

“That’s not what I decided to do at the beginning of the summer,” Bea says.

So it is stubbornness that’s causing Bea to act this way. Honey should’ve guessed that.

“Things can change,” Honey says, scoffing a bit. “You don’t have to stick with your Slut Summer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, Honey!” Bea snaps. She looks around to make sure none of the boys heard her outburst as they continue to practice, then she steels herself with a deep breath. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet and definite. “I like him too much. I am too attached to him. Even if I wanted it to work after this summer, it wouldn’t. That’s just the way that it is.”

“Why not?” Honey asks again. “Really. If you like him this much, then you shouldn’t have any trouble making it work outside of Litchton.”

“Honey!” Bea scrubs her hands over her face, then starts to count off the reasons against her palm, her tone sharper than it needs to be. “He lives across the country, in another country. He travels constantly. He might like me now, but I’m just some bitch from Litchton. It’s not like I’m a model from New York who understands the pace of his life.”

“Did he say that?” Honey interrupts, looking out onto the ice to Quinn. If he called Bea ‘some bitch from Litchton,’ she’ll walk across the ice right now and tackle him to the ground. Trevor would probably help her beat him up, just because it’s her, and it’s not like the other boys would stop her if she told them that he insulted Bea.

“Of course he didn’t say that, don’t be stupid,” Bea retorts. “But it’s the truth!”

“So, what? You’re just going to give up?” Honey shakes her head. “You’re going to fuck the other guys and ignore him until you like him an acceptable amount again and push your feelings for him into a dumpster that’s on fire?”

“Are you and Trevor going to stay together after the summer?” Bea asks, turning the tables on Honey with a quirk of her eyebrows. 

Honey frowns. The truth is, she doesn’t know. She has a lot of the same concerns as Bea, but despite how she felt last week during that brief– three day long– period of panic where she wanted to end things with Trevor, she doesn’t know what she wants. She likes him, but it’s the same thing: he’ll be all the way across the country and she’ll be here. “We haven’t talked about it.”

Bea laughs at Honey’s reply. “Well, Quinn and I have talked about it. It’s a one summer thing.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Honey murmurs, her frown only deepening. “I’m just saying that, if you like him, you should see if it works outside of Litchton.”

“It won’t. He won’t be around. It’ll be a seasonal relationship because his priority is hockey. I don’t want a boyfriend who’s only around for three months out of the year,” Bea says, her eyes narrowed. “And that’s it. That’s that.”

“Okay, geez,” Honey concedes. “I just don’t see what that has to do with your relationship with him now. You’re clearly upset ignoring him. He obviously feels like shit, too, but he’s not trying to cause a fuss. Why can’t you just talk to him?”

“I’m taking a break,” Bea states. 

“I don’t see how that helps you.”

“You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

Honey flinches back. “No, I didn’t,” she denies. “Why would I suggest that you and Quinn ‘take a break?’ You’re obsessed with each other.”

“Yeah, you did,” Bea insists. “You told me on the phone to take a break. Trevor agreed that it’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re following Trevor’s advice?” Honey sneers. “Bea, sweetheart, he’s an idiot and you don’t really like him all that much. Plus, Quinn doesn’t want to take a break from you.”

“You don’t know that.” Bea rolls her eyes.

“I do. I do know that,” Honey insists, her voice rising a bit.

“How?” Bea snaps. “How could you possibly know that?”

“He told me.”

“Great, well, he told me that he respects my decision and he agrees that it would be really hard to be together after the summer. And as much as he’s willing to try, I’m not. I like him so much that if we break up, I’m going to be miserable,” Bea says. “We’ll break up because of distance and it will change me on a fundamental level. So, we’re mutually parting ways at the end of the summer. It is the best outcome and you can’t change my mind.”

“So maybe you should suck it up and be happy with him now,” Honey bites back. “Ignoring him and making yourself miserable now isn’t going to make that ‘mutual’ breakup any easier at the end of the summer.”

Bea clenches her jaw and glares at Honey, clearly stopping herself from saying something. 

“Oh, don’t do that,” Honey scoffs. “Whatever you want to say, go ahead and say it.”

“You don’t want me to say what I’m thinking,” Bea says carefully through her teeth. “I think I’m going to go call Cece and see if she wants to grab dinner while I’m in town. She’ll drive me back to Litchton tonight. I’ll see you at work.”

Bea stands and stomps away, dialing her sister’s phone number and holding the phone to her ear. Her footsteps echo across the arena and the boys pause on the ice. 

“Hey,” Luke exclaims with a clap and a whistle to get the girl’s attention.

“Bea, where are you going?” Jack calls. 

Honey watches Quinn’s head turn as she makes her way to the doors, pushing them open with a crash and disappearing through them. Something seems to click in him and he skates toward the edge of the ice, finding an entrance and hopping up, following after her. His stilted jog on his skates is probably slower than he wants it to be, and all of his gear must be weighing him down. It’s probably going to ruin the blades of his skates, too, but he makes his way through the doors anyway.

Cole and Trevor skate up to Honey. 

“What was that about?” Trevor asks, concern written all over his face as he looks at Honey. As he surveys her, some of the tension in her shoulders melts away. His concern is for her, if she’s okay.

“Yeah, is she alright?” Cole adds, leaning over the boards on his elbows. “That was…”

“She’s fine,” Honey interrupts, words clipped and short. “She’s just calling her sister. She’ll be back in Litchton tomorrow.”

Cole nods. “Alright. Cool,” he says, taking Honey’s word as truth. That’s lucky for her– it’s good that he doesn’t pry. 

Trevor, however, is still standing in front of her, the look in his eyes much more skeptical.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Honey warns the boy.

Trevor pauses, then nods. “Okay.” He looks out onto the ice, then back to Honey. “Do you want to come skate? I can find some blades for you somewhere. I’m sure they have extras. I can go ask the equipment guy.”

Honey fully relaxes, endeared by his offer. “No, baby, I’m okay,” she says softly. “But thanks for asking. You’re almost done anyway, right?”

Trevor looks at the door to the lobby, which has been flung again upon Quinn’s return. He’s got a stormy look on his face, a scowl the likes of which Honey has never seen.“I think we’re about to be done for the day right now,” he says. “I’ll rinse off in the locker room and be out as soon as I can. We’ll pack the car and head home.”

He skates off, joining the other boys as they exit through the tunnel to the players’ locker room. Honey is left on the bench, checking her pockets to make sure she has all of her things before she stands and walks to the lobby. This rink is about twenty minutes from Bea’s house, so there’s a good chance she’s still in the lobby waiting for Cece to pick her up.

Honey should feel trepidation about being next to Bea again so soon after that argument, but there’s something about the way Trevor said ‘home,’ like Litchton really is his home. It felt like a kiss to the cheek and a squeeze of her hand. Trevor talks to her like they’re together-together, like they share a space, and it gives her butterflies.

Just like she thought, Bea is in the lobby. She’s sitting on a bench near the water fountains, arms crossed over her chest and a deep frown etched onto her face. She looks at Honey when she walks through the doors, but just tilts her head up defiantly.

Honey gets the message. Bea doesn’t want to talk anymore. Good– neither does Honey.

She turns her back to the girl, reading the fliers posted on the bulletin board over and over, as if there will be new information the next go around. Anything to avoid having to sit next to an angry Bea.

Whatever she wanted to say, but held herself back from spouting, must have been too mean. Honey understands. She’s seen Bea put the nail in the coffin of an argument before, even experienced it a few times herself. It’s never good and Bea always regrets saying it. It was her New Year’s Resolution last year to work on that, and she’s done pretty well.

A car horn sounds outside. Honey looks to the entrance. She recognizes the vehicle– it’s the old ‘Wagon’ that Bea’s dad used to drive. He passed it down to each of his girls, so Cece has it now. It’s not an actual Station Wagon, but it’s big like one, so that’s why they call it that.

Bea stands and heads toward the exit, her hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. She pauses at the door.

“We’re going to House of Pizza,” she says, voice hard. “Do you want me to say hello from you? If I see them?”

She’s referring to Honey’s parents. It used to be a tradition to go to House of Pizza on Mondays after school, to celebrate a good start to the week. Honey would get a side of fries to go with the pizza that she’d share with her mom and dad, who always left work early on Mondays to pick her up. Her dad always swore he didn’t want any pizza. He’d order a meatball sub and scarf the whole thing down, then eat two slices anyway. Every single time. 

Honey’s heart seizes for a second and she swallows. “Sure,” she replies, her voice feeling foreign. “If you see them.”

Bea nods once and leaves.

Honey takes her place on the bench. Her mind is racing. She traces the back of her teeth with the tip of her tongue.

Do they still go, now that I’m gone? Are they able to do that without me?

Honey doesn’t think she would be able to go to House of Pizza without her mom and dad if things were the other way around. There are too many memories with them there. 

There are too many memories in Charlotte, now that she thinks about it. It’s weird that she’s here. There are people in this city that knew her before Litchton. This is where her childhood cat is buried and her dad’s favorite dog. Honey has to take a deep breath before she feels suffocated by how fresh all of her memories still feel.

It’s lucky that Trevor comes out of the locker room with his gear as she exhales. His hair is a little wet and his clothes are sticking to his body, folding over awkwardly with the bag that’s thrown over his shoulder.

He’s alone, so when Honey stands to greet him, he leans in and pecks her mouth. “The other boys are going to throw their stuff in the back themselves,” he says. “So we can go sit in the AC. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Honey confirms. “We just got in a fight.”

“What about?” Trevor asks.

“Quinn,” Honey tells him with a shrug. “It’s fine. We just have different opinions about their situation.”

“Yeah,” Trevor says. “I figured it was something like that. I’m sorry you got into a fight.” They walk towards the exit and Trevor holds the door open for Honey. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Next time, don’t tell Bea to take a break from Quinn,” Honey replies with a chuckle.

“But that’s what you said.” Trevor sounds confused.

“I never told her to take a break from him,” Honey tells him. “But she seems to think that I did, too.”

“You told her to take a break from ‘all of this for a minute,’” Trevor says, using air-quotes. 

“Oh,” Honey breathes out. She does remember saying that, just to console Bea. She meant for her to take a deep breath and distract herself for a little while, just to put the emotional spiral aside. “Trev, I didn’t mean Quinn. I just needed her to ground herself so we could talk it out rationally later.”

“Oh.” Trevor blushes. “My bad.”

Honey laughs. She shakes her head. At the car, once he places his bag inside the trunk and they climb into the driver and passenger seats, Honey leans over the console to press a kiss against his lips. “‘s okay,” she murmurs, kissing him once more before the boys arrive. “They can’t stay away from each other long, no matter how much she insists. I bet by the end of the week, we’re back to gagging about their public displays of affection.”

“Oh, their ‘PDA,’ if you will… I better enjoy this while I can,” Trevor quips back, reaching for the radio to change the station to something that isn’t yelling about an advertisement. 

“And Jack better milk the shit out of it,” Honey adds, which makes Trevor laugh. He laughs even harder when Jack exits the building and puts his bag in the back of the car, but Trevor doesn’t explain himself. Jack just narrows his eyes suspiciously and uses his stick to reach across the backseat and poke Trevor in the back of the head. It turns into a brotherly spat, which eventually calms once the other three exit the building and break it up.

With a final promise to see them in Litchton, Honey and Trevor are left alone in the car for an entire ninety minutes. Despite his best efforts, Honey refuses to give Trevor road-head and won’t allow him to finger her while he’s driving. Finally, when he gives up, she gets to listen to him sing off-tune the whole way to the fruit stand for her usual shopping spree, then all the way home.

51:90 – TREVOR

With a final tap to the 8-ball, Trevor loses yet another game of pool to Luke. He was supposed to see Honey tonight at her place, but she texted him earlier saying that Jessie had a family emergency and she and Tyler had to run to the hospital, possibly for the night. Honey was asked to babysit little Luca and, being the kind-hearted girl she is, she said yes.

Trevor can’t really be mad at her for helping them out, but he was looking forward to cuddling with her and having a slumber party in his girlfriend’s bed. 

Because he can’t do that, he’s in the basement with the boys, playing pool and listening to music and talking about random shit. 

Now that Trevor is free from the confines of the pool table, he flops down on the couch. He sits beside Cole, tucked away into the corner near the armchair where Quinn rests. Luke calls for Jack to take Trevor’s place at the table and the boy goes willingly, although his eyes slide over the movie on the screen. Talladega Nights. 

It’s been a fan favorite among the boys of the lake house for years. Of course it is– Will Ferrell, racing, pretty girls, raunchy humor. At one point in their lives, it was each of their favorites. Whether it be because of the moment that Carley Bobby flashed her tits or because of the stupidity of the film, they all loved it.

Jack seems more reluctant than most to leave the movie behind to play pool. After all, it’s still one of his favorites, easily a top five pick. Quinn’s barely paying attention, just watching the movie with a half-interested flicker of light in his eyes. Cole is much more interested, mouthing the words along with the characters on the screen. Trevor falls in with them, able to pick up the story easily after years of watching it over and over again. It never gets old.

“Hey, let me see your phone,” Quinn murmurs, reaching out with his foot to kick at Trevor’s knee. 

Trevor fishes it out of his pocket. “After the way she snapped at you yesterday when you went after her, I don’t think she wants to see you.”

Quinn fixes him with a glare, then returns to the phone without saying anything. 

“Hey, if she doesn’t want to see him, then maybe she’ll come over and see me,” Cole interjects, putting an unnecessary twang on his words just because it’s the way Ricky Bobby speaks. 

Quinn ignores him, staring at the phone. Then, Trevor watches him shift his eyes to the side and bite his tongue before he tosses the phone into Trevor’s lap. “She doesn’t want to come over at all,” he says. “Says it’s too late for her to come over on a work night.”

Cole laughs. “Yeah, sure, ‘cause she hasn’t slept over on a work night before. You’re down in the dumps, Q.”

Quinn grits his teeth, but stays silent.

“Let me text her, Z,” Cole says, reaching for the phone. “Bet she’ll come over if I ask.”

Under normal circumstances, Trevor would absolutely hand his phone over to Cole to see if Bea comes running. Today? That’s too cruel. Especially because, as Honey revealed last night, he completely misinterpreted her advice to “take a break” and turned it into something bigger than she intended. Plus, his actions caused Honey and Bea to have a fight. He doesn’t like that.

“Nah, bud, just let it be. Listen to Ricky Bobby, he’s learning a lesson right now.” Trevor tucks his phone away again and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. He prods his arm up on the plush pillow next to him and cradles his head against his fist.

He succeeds in distracting Cole, who is as easy as a crow spotting something shiny, but Trevor still feels weird about the dark glare that is cemented on Quinn’s face. He still sits in the armchair– a better man than Trevor. 

If Honey broke up with him, even for a few days, he wouldn’t be seen outside of his bedroom until their problems were solved. He’d sulk the whole day long, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. Trevor’s always the first to remind people that he is not the person with the world’s best attitude, even though he’s doing a lot better at controlling himself than when he was a teenager. 

He’s even gotten better at admitting defeat and apologizing when he’s wrong. This situation calls for that.

“Look, man, I’m sorry about what’s happening with Bea,” Trevor says to Quinn, who gives no indication that he’s listening. Belatedly, he adds, “I feel bad.”

“Why would you feel bad,” Quinn replies with a grunt, patience already thin. Trevor should have thought this through.

Trevor groans in the back of his throat, having been caught in a pickle. He could lie and say that he feels bad in general, but when they patch up, Bea will tell Quinn that it was Trevor’s idea all along. He may as well get it over with. He ducks his head. “I was the one who suggested that she take a break from you for a couple of days.”

A hush falls over the room and everything seems to go still. Even though Talladega Nights plays on, it’s impossible to hear over the suspense of the moment, the anticipation for Quinn’s– likely negative– reaction. Even Cole is quiet and the pool players have frozen in place momentarily. Luke was half-bent over, ready to take his next shot, but he straightens up and watches Quinn. Jack’s holding his cue up in front of him, arms crossed atop it like a hug with one of his fingers touching his teeth and another pinching at his lower lip. His eyes are wide and they’re darting back and forth between Trevor and Quinn. He starts to chew on his fingernail, a tic that has always comforted him in moments like this.

“What,” Quinn states, his head seeming to turn towards Trevor in slow motion, looking like the movement should be joined by the long creak of an old door in a horror movie.

“To be fair, Honey suggested it first,” Trevor says. “But I… misinterpreted what she meant.”

A tight smile comes across Quinn’s face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those are dark, sharp, and deadly, not complacent like his smile. “Let’s go upstairs, Trevor.”

Trevor looks at the other boys, all of whom avert their eyes. He’ll receive no backup down here. Thanks a lot, guys, he thinks. However, he makes no move to get up. “No, we should– let’s talk here.” At least here there are witnesses if anything happens to him, like a broken bone. After all, it was Quinn that broke Jack’s wrist in a scuffle all those years ago, and that was just when they were kids. Imagine what he can do to Trevor now.

“No, I think you want to go upstairs,” Quinn says with a slow nod, not blinking once as he stares at Trevor. He cocks his head slightly to the side. “Unless you want to talk about that girl that you’ve been seeing. From Raya, right? I think it’s only fair that I get to weigh in on your relationship, since you’ve made a problem in mine.”

Trevor sees through the implication, the threat, and feels his mouth go dry. Quinn wouldn’t dare tell everyone about what’s going on between him and Honey. Trevor can only imagine how pale he looks. He shakes his head.

Quinn nods again, narrowing his eyes at Trevor. “That’s what I thought,” he says sarcastically. He stands. “Let’s go.”

Trevor, feeling meek, follows with his tail between his legs. He thought he was being nice, apologizing to Quinn for the break. He was owning up, and all of that– and this is what his honesty and empathy gets him?

Quinn doesn’t stop at the first floor. He climbs the stairs to the second floor, where all of their bedrooms are, and he stops in front of Trevor’s door.

“What exactly happened?” Quinn questions, crossing his arms over his chest and blocking the entrance to Trevor’s safe haven. His voice is cold, devoid of emotion, and Trevor honestly would rather him throw something or even wind up to punch Trevor.

“It was the morning after the hot tub,” Trevor says. “She barged into my room looking for Honey. She made me call her. She talked, Honey told her to take a break and that she’d see Bea soon.” Trevor looks down at his shoes. “Then Bea asked me if I thought Honey was right, that she should take a break. I thought Honey meant an actual break, not just a few hours to calm down before dealing with the problem. I said yes.”

Quinn’s nostrils flare and his mouth pinches together, about to say something.

“But I also told her that your relationship with her is better than other relationships you’ve had,” Trevor adds, covering up his mess. “And that you seem happier with her than you are with anyone else.”

“You did,” Quinn says. He nods a few times. “What makes you think that you get to talk to her about my other relationships? Why didn’t you send her to me?”

“She didn’t want to see you,” Trevor replies. “After… what happened the night before.” He doesn’t want to explicitly bring up Quinn’s inability to perform.

Quinn’s face darkens. 

Well, it can’t get worse than this. “And she’s worried that you regret this. That you– that she’s not what you want.” Trevor takes a breath, but no more words leak out of him. 

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. He looks up. “She thinks that,” he states. He starts to laugh. “And instead of telling her that I don’t want that, you told her to take a break and figure it out?”

“How was I supposed to know how you felt?” Trevor demands. “I can’t give her advice about you!”

“Oh, but you did,” Quinn points out. “You have given her advice about me. Some therapist you are, Trevor. You’ve seen how I was with Liv, you were there while I dated my girlfriends in Michigan, and you seriously thought that I would be okay with taking a break from Bea?”

Trevor flounders for an answer, but comes up with nothing. He shrugs helplessly. 

Quinn reaches behind him and opens Trevor’s bedroom door. He steps forward and takes Trevor by the front of his t-shirt, pulling him closer. 

“If you fuck this up for me again,” he threatens lowly. “I’ll kill you.” He smiles, sealing his promise, and sends Trevor stumbling into his bedroom. Before Quinn closes the door on him, he adds, “You’re lucky that I like Honey. Otherwise, I’d have no problem fucking that up for you, too.”

He slams the door shut and walks away. Trevor can hear him stomping down the hallway, then down the stairs, then the slam of the front door. It isn’t long after that Trevor hears Quinn drive away.

He checks the time. With shaky hands, he finds Honey’s number and clicks on it, lifting the phone to his ear. She said Luca usually goes to bed around 8. It’s 8:45 now, so she should be free. 

She picks up just as he’s about to pull away and hang up, cutting his losses. “Hello?” She asks, a smile already evident in her voice. 

“I’m an idiot,” Trevor says.

Honey laughs aloud, then claps a hand over her mouth. She’s able to quiet herself down, snickering as she says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I already knew that.”

‘Sweetheart.’ That’s a new one. Trevor bats his smile away. Now is not the time to be blushing over a nickname from the girl he likes. “I told Quinn that I was the one who told Bea to take a break from him.”

Honey is quiet on the other end of the call. “You really are an idiot.”

“I know,” Trevor groans. “He was so mad, I thought he was going to punch me.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t.”

“He said if I ever meddled in his relationship again, he’d kill me.”

Honey hums. “Well, that’s nice. For Bea, I guess. That he’s willing to kill for her.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he might just hate me?”

Laughter fills his ears again. “He doesn’t hate you, Trevor.”

“I’m not exactly feeling the love over here,” Trevor complains.

Honey pauses. Her voice returns, sounding like she’s suppressing another round of giggles. “Would you like to?”

Trevor furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head at himself in the mirror and tossing his hand up in a confused gesture. ‘What?’ he mouths to himself. “Feel the love?” He asks into the phone. “I’d prefer it if Quinn wasn’t threatening me–”

“Not from Quinn, baby,” Honey sighs. “Luca’s down for the night and I’m all alone downstairs… I missed you tonight. We could’ve been in bed.”

Trevor perks up. “You missed me?”

“Hard not to. I see you all the time. It’s weird, canceling plans with you.”

A smug smile makes its way across Trevor’s lips. “What part did you miss most?” He teases.

“I was kind of counting on your cock, actually,” Honey says conversationally, like that’s not a sentence that would have Trevor spitting out his water (if he were drinking any). The blood from his brain already seems to be rushing to the exact appendage that Honey mentioned. “Had a bad day at work. Barely talked to Bea at all.” She’s pouting for effect, Trevor can hear it through the tinny speaker. “Thought it would make me feel better to hear all those pretty noises you make when I get my lips around you.”

Her lips. Her bright, shiny, pink lips. The image fills Trevor’s brain, sluggish from the blood leaving it and making his nerves stand on end, and the best he can manage is an “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Honey confirms. “But I’ll have to settle for my imagination, I guess.”

She sounds dejected, like her heart is broken by disappointment, and Trevor just can’t have that. Sure, maybe she’s playing him like a fiddle, but he can’t find it in himself to care. “No,” he tells her. “No. We– fuck, Honey, I’m hard just hearing you talk like that.”

“Aww, you like it when I talk dirty to you?” Honey teases. 

Trevor hums out a response, but Honey didn’t need it.

“Why don’t you let me hear just how much you like it?” She asks. 

It’s just like Trevor’s dream, when he would get so close to fucking her on the boat before he’d wake. She would tease him in her devoted way, although it’s clear through her voice that he’s completely at her power. 

“Are you going to–” Trevor starts to ask, but it’s a stupid question. She’s definitely not going to get off while she’s in Jessie and Tyler’s house, while she’s technically still babysitting Luca. 

“No, not now. But I need something to occupy my mind later, once I’m home in my cozy bed.” She lowers her voice. “I’m ovulating again, you know. It’s been driving me crazy all day. I almost checked out a book from the romance section before I remembered that the real thing is just a few minutes away.”

Trevor’s already walking back to his own bed. He settles among the pillows, a hand on his waistband, ready to take his shorts off as soon as Honey says.

“Ovulating, huh?” He asks, hearing himself through a fog. “So, you’re–”

“Really, really horny,” Honey faux-complains, trying to garner sympathy from Trevor. She tries to make it sound like a problem, but it’s not– not for him. She wants to fuck him, bad. She’s working, technically, but she’s calling to hear him come so that she can get off to it later. 

Trevor cannot believe his luck. Here he was thinking that he’d be dead by the end of his conversation with Quinn, but his girlfriend is on the line making him feel better in the best way possible.

“Fuck, wish I could hear you, too,” Trevor admits sheepishly. “Wish I was in your bed. Want you to touch me.”

“Mm, do you already have a hand on yourself?” Honey asks.

Trevor shakes his head, then remembers that he has to actually respond to her. “No.”

“Go on,” Honey encourages.

Trevor pushes his shorts and underpants down to his knees with a slight struggle, trying to hold the phone between his shoulder and ear. “‘Kay,” he says once he’s wrapped his left hand around his length. It brings a little reprieve and he has to stop before he starts to stroke himself without her explicitly telling him to do so.

“You know what I’d do if I was there?” Honey asks. 

“Tell me.”

“Rub my thumb over your tip,” she says. “Then lick up all the precum that comes out while I rub you. Haven’t tasted you in so long, Trevor. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like.”

Come to think of it, it has been a long time since his dick was in Honey’s mouth. She refused his requests for road head yesterday, and she certainly hadn’t sucked him off in the hot tub. Did she blow him when they were high? He doesn’t remember.

“But I think once I taste you again, I won’t want to keep my mouth off of you,” Honey ponders. “I’ll want to keep you in my mouth until you’re coming down my throat for a second time.”

Trevor’s lips part and he lets out a desperate groan, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. His thumb passes over his slit, just like she said she would do. With his eyes closed, he can almost picture her here.

“There are those pretty noises,” she marvels. 

Does Trevor detect fondness in her words? He’s already too far gone to decide, but his first instinct is that yes, it is. It’s more– she’s proud.

“For you,” he murmurs, losing control of his mouth.

Honey breathes in, her breath jumping through the phone. “Oh, yeah? All for me?”

“Wanna make you happy,” Trevor continues.

Behind his closed eyes, she’s smiling up at him as she pumps his cock, pressing a kiss to his shaft and leaving behind a slight sheen of lipgloss in its place, which disappears as her hand continues to move.

Her voice fills his ears and he imagines her face when she’s trying not to smile, trying not to show that she’s pleased with his words. It’s the same face she made yesterday at the rink, when he offered to find some skates for her– her lips quirking up into a kind-of ‘v’ shape because no matter how much she tries to avoid the smile, it comes anyway.

“You do,” she offers simply. Her voice is sweet, serious even, before it turns raunchy again. “I wish I were there, too, baby.”

Baby, baby…

“Remember when Cole dared me to lick the whipped cream off of you?”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor replies, able to come back to himself for a second when she mentions Cole. He doesn’t want this to end so quickly, so the mention of his friend is welcome, even if it’s a little weird.

“I think if he dared me to do it again, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, and I’d have to suck you off right then,” Honey says.

“You– you put your fingers in my waistband,” Trevor chokes out, feeling the phantom touch, the memory of her fingers against his abdomen. They were so low, so near to his cock, and she did it mindlessly. If she were here, she’d make a point to touch his v-line now. She’d run her finger over it, barely, just enough to have his skin crawling. “Didn’t even think about it. I wanted you to.”

“Hm, I know you did,” she teases. “I could see it on your face.”

“Dreamt about it,” Trevor adds. “Got off thinking about it.”

Honey makes a noise of surprise. “You did?” She asks. “So you’ve been fucking your fist, picturing me, since the second week of summer?”

It’s humiliating, but it’s true. Trevor doesn’t care anymore. He has her, anyway. They’re together. She’s his and he’s hers, always has been since the second he bumped into her outside the fruit stand.

“Wanted you for so long,” Trevor says. “Need you.”

“You have me,” Honey replies. It’s nowhere close to a promise, nor a confirmation that they’re together the way Trevor wants them to be and tells himself they are, but her words have him seeing stars. “I’m right here, baby.”

Trevor keens. His hand practically flies over his cock, leaking and dripping and twitching as she continues to talk about how pretty he sounds and how much she wishes that he was with her right now. She compliments him in all sorts of ways, but her use of ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ echo through his head over everything. 

The nail in the coffin comes quickly, too quickly for Trevor to process. She says it and he’s spilling over his hand, crying out in a way that would be pathetic if he could hear it over her light laughter and the rush of blood through his eardrums.

Her words ring in his head, replacing the ‘babies’ and the ‘sweethearts’ with “Want you to paint my face with your cum, Trevor. It’ll look so pretty on my tongue.”

He doesn’t remember talking to her after that. Trevor barely remembers pulling his pants up or falling asleep, and yet, he drifts off and his dreams are full of Honey getting exactly what she wanted. It’s an endless loop. Nothing exists for Trevor except Honey– not in his dreams, and if he has it his way, he’ll luck out and be stuck with her forever. It’s almost a shame he has to wake the following day, the only consolation being the promise of the real thing.

52:90 – HONEY

After two days of faux-cordial, one-sentence answers from Bea, the girl has finally apologized for her outburst at the rink. Honey tried to do the same and apologize for pressing Bea for answers, but she just waved Honey off. 

“Emotions were high,” Bea had said with a shrug. “I can’t blame you for getting frustrated. I’ve been so mad at myself for the past couple of days and it hasn’t been easy for anyone.”

“Should we talk about it?” Honey had asked, a slight grimace on her face. “And maybe keep it under control this time?”

Bea chuckled at Honey in a self-deprecating way, rolling her eyes. “Oh, fuck off. I’m much calmer now. Cece and I had a nice long chat about it. We even phoned Trixie in from Topsail. All the McLean sisters, back together again, solving the world’s problems.”

“Really?” Honey asked. “How is Trix?”

Ada shushed them, then asked why they weren’t working, and the conversation ended there. 

It would continue later: Bea left Honey a note at the cash register in her loopy handwriting, saying that they should get margaritas at the dingy Mexican restaurant in town that no one remembers the name of, so they all just call it ‘Mexico.’ On Wednesdays, they have $15 pitchers of margaritas. Honey has never been one to turn down Mexico and Margs.

So, after work, that’s where they go. Mexico is near the grocery store, even shares a parking lot with the brick building that Honey visits every Monday. They walk from the Nook– it’s maybe a block and a half– and they appreciate the exercise anyway. They share a pitcher of the mango margarita and Bea orders fajitas while Honey orders her usual ACP with extra tortillas on the side. 

“So I haven’t been hiding details from you, but there are things I haven’t told you,” Bea starts, gesturing with her fork once the food arrives. 

“Like how you decided you’d keep it casual because he wasn’t over Liv,” Honey says. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that.”

Bea ducks her head and swirls her drink with her straw. “Yeah. I didn’t really– I don’t think I quite believed him until we talked about her on Friday. After the party. After we went to bed.”

“What did he say?” Honey asks.

“You know I’m not an insecure person,” Bea says. Honey nods, confirming her reminder. “I just can’t get over that Quinn was with a model before me. I feel like he left that out on purpose when he said he missed her sometimes. How often is ‘sometimes’ anyway?”

Honey shrugs. “Too vague to tell. I think that’s the purpose of the word.”

“Yeah. But… yes,” Bea shakes her head, trying to get her story together in a coherent way. “When Quinn and I first had our conversation about the Slut Summer, he told me he had just gotten out of a relationship, right?”

“Right,” Honey agrees. Bea had told her that part.

“Then, he tells me he’s not sure if he wants to get back together with her when he sees her again.” Bea spreads her hands on the table, pausing to suck up a sip of margarita from her straw. She clears her throat. “Again, this was before I started… liking… him. So at the time, it was fine! I wanted to fuck his brothers and one of his best friends, so who cares if he gets back together with his ex girlfriend?”

“A few weeks later, you start falling for him, and suddenly you care that he isn’t sure if he wants to get back together with her,” Honey says. 

“Exactly,” Bea states, sitting back against the vinyl booth behind her. There’s a parrot painted on the booth near her shoulder. If she moves over just an inch, it’ll look like it’s her pet and she brought it to the restaurant with her. Honey will have to take a picture for her when they’re having a less serious conversation. 

“So what happened when you talked about her?” Honey asks.

“Quinn broke up with her because she wasn’t ready for marriage and babies,” Bea tells her. “Babies, Honey,” she repeats. “I’m not ready for a fucking baby. I certainly wasn’t hooking up with any of them to marry and have babies.”

“That’s crazy,” Honey says, matching Bea’s tone to validate her feelings. She’s right– Honey can’t imagine getting married and having babies right now.

Her mind drifts to Trevor and his guest appearance at Story Time, to the little girl who pulled herself up by his pant leg and reached for his teeth. She imagines his stupid, silly, overdramatic face as he shows the illustrations to the baby. 

Before she can help it, she’s imagining him in a rocking chair in her house, in the little nook behind the loft stairs that was her nursery when she was young. There’s a baby on his lap, resolutely ignoring the book in his hands, touching his cheeks and trying to poke at his eyes. She imagines Trevor snickering and blowing a raspberry on the baby’s rosy cheek. Suddenly, in her mind, he’s wearing a wedding ring.

“What’s crazier,” Bea interrupts her thoughts with wide eyes to emphasize the word, “Is that at the rink when he followed me, he apologized for making me so upset and he asked if we could talk. I said no, because– well, you know why– and he told me he loved me.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “What?” She demands. “What? In what context? How did he get to that?”

“I don’t know!” Bea exclaims, throwing her hands up. “He loves me? We’ve been fucking for seven weeks! We’ve only known each other for seven weeks! I’ve been a fucking whore this entire summer and still, he loves me?”

“To be fair,” Honey says, trying to speak nonchalantly. “It’s really isolated up here. A week feels like a month, sometimes. Litchton time is different. To him, it probably feels like you’ve been together for ages.”

“But, the thing is, we’re not really together. Like, yeah, it’s special, whatever– but I’m fucking his brother.”

Honey watches a middle aged woman from the table behind them cast a look in their direction.

“Lower your voice,” she murmurs, gesturing around them.

“Sorry,” Bea says, calming down. “It’s just a lot.” She brushes her hair out of her face and takes another sip of her drink, then crouches down to lick some of the salt off of the rim of the glass. “Could you imagine? If Trevor told you he loved you right now, what would you do?”

Honey ponders the question, but comes up with nothing. To be honest, if Trevor told her that he loved her right now, she’d spit out her margarita and probably accidentally get it in his eyes.

“Naturally, I told him that I can’t deal with this right now,” Bea continues. “How do I even reply to that? ‘Sorry Quinn, I’m taking a break from you because I like you too much. I don’t love you back, but I like you too much and I might start loving you back if I’m not careful.’ Like, what the fuck is that?” She demands. “Inadequate, is what it is.”

“Do you really think he loves you or did he, like, just say it to get you to talk to him,” Honey points out. “Because you haven’t been talking to him at all. Maybe desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“I don’t think Quinn would say something like that just for kicks,” Bea says. “Or just to get me to talk to him. I think he means it, and, well… you know. I’ve never loved someone before, I don’t know what that’s like. It’s not like I can say it back.”

“Ah, yes, the age-old Bea dilemma,” Honey teases. “I always knew that you dating all these men for a few months, then breaking up with them just before it gets serious, would land you in trouble someday. The heartbreaker gets her comeuppance.”

“You are so not funny,” Bea scolds. “This is Quinn we’re talking about, Honey. Quinn Hughes. He is the closest thing I have ever had to an actual boyfriend. You know I’ve never been with anyone like this. I never expected to be with anyone like this. The closest thing I can compare him to is Thomas. Not in the sense that Quinn will act like he did, but like… Quinn will change everything for me. He already has. I–” She loses her words, shaking her head rapidly and tapping her fingers against the tabletop. She takes a deep breath like she’s about to speak, then deflates.

The mention of Thomas is enough to stop the conversation temporarily. Honey is lucky that their food arrives and they can take a break to scarf down a few bites. It gives Honey time to think and time to steer the conversation away from her least favorite subject. Bea rarely ever brings Thomas up, so invoking his name adds a seriousness and somber quality to the conversation that it didn't have before. The time with her food gives Honey a chance to form an adequate response– well, a question.

“So, what are you worried about?” Honey asks. “I mean, he likes you, clearly. You like him. Take everything else out of the equation– what’s stopping you from being with him?”

Bea stares at Honey, chewing her fajitas until they’re mush and wiping her lips with the napkin before she replies. She’s sheepish and shy when she speaks, almost embarrassed. Honey has never seen Bea look embarrassed, in all seventeen years of knowing her.

“I am so afraid,” Bea breathes out, her eyebrows furrowed as if in disbelief. She presses her lips together, licks them, and shakes her head again. Slower, this time. More sad. “Of– losing him? And, no offense, but of being as sad and ruined as you were when you lost your first… love? Boyfriend? Whatever we call him nowadays?”

Honey snorts. “No offense taken.”

“I keep getting stuck on the idea that our relationship can only work here, and now. He has a whole life out there. He didn’t know that I existed two months ago– who’s to say that he’ll remember me two months after he leaves?” Bea shrugs, scoffing slightly at her own imagination before she speaks. “Maybe I’ll just be the girl he was hooking up with for a summer. A funny story for his friends and teammates– that he was sleeping with me, but Jack was too.”

“He wouldn’t talk about you like that,” Honey tells her, reaching a hand out to touch hers across the table. “And you know he wouldn’t forget you.”

“It’s not just that,” Bea mumbles. “You know how I get. I had a plan.” She blinks, eyes a little wet. “I’m not in Litchton to fall in love with some guy. I’m in Litchton for you. My relationships are a little treat along the way.”

Ah, yes. Bea’s plan– to spend her time in Litchton trying to teach Honey how to let herself have fun again. It’s why she joined Honey when she moved, and not just because Honey asked. Bea saw how upset she was over Thomas, how completely broken and shattered it left Honey (although Bea used the words “sad” and “ruined”), and vowed that the same thing would never happen again on her watch. She tried to lead by example, by living her life and getting dates and dragging Honey out and having fun, always giving her the option to join in but never pushing. The boys this summer were a twist of fate– for both of them.

“You know, Trevor’s really great,” Honey says softly. “He gets me. Your plan worked. You don't have to stay in town just for me.”

‘Home,’ he had said the other day. He had meant it. Honey thinks that Litchton, without Trevor, isn’t home anymore. Her house, without Trevor in her bed, isn’t home anymore.

“Quinn gets you,” she continues. “I believe it, that he loves you. I think you could love him back. Things can change, you know– I want you to be happy.” Honey feels her throat start to close up with the threat of tears. “I don’t want you to miss out on him because you’re still determined to help me.”

Bea nods. She’s biting her lip to stop it from shaking– and failing.

“I really think you should let him love you,” Honey says. “You can’t keep ignoring him. At least talk to him– you don’t have to stop what you’re doing now, but maybe you could keep in touch with him when he leaves.”

Bea winces. “I can’t,” she mumbles. “I bawled in House of Pizza about it. The waiter had to ask Cece if I was okay. You should see the way he lights up when he talks about Vancouver. He loves it so much but I just can’t move there, not now. I can’t uproot my life for a guy. But– knowing that he’s so far away… and not being able to be with him… I’ll fall apart either way, but especially if I hear his voice through the phone. I think talking to him when he's not here would just make me miss him more. It’s cruel. That I got a taste of him and he’s going to be my One That Got Away.”

“I can’t do anything to change your mind?” Honey asks, feeling helpless. Her face has certainly crumbled, ugly lines marring it as she feels for her friend.

Bea blinks a tear away and purses her lips, shaking her head. “I know myself,” she says resolutely. “It just wouldn’t work. And then he’d be the one that I…” A breath. “Well, I'd just rather be here and have you with me, to help put me back together when it ends.” She takes another breath, sharper this time. She straightens up and pushes her hair back, wiping under her eyes. “Fuck, so serious,” Bea says, changing the subject abruptly, signaling that she's done with this topic. “I hate it when tequila makes me emotional.”

Honey isn’t happy with where the conversation has ended, but she understands what Bea’s saying. Losing Quinn would be a heartbreak she can’t bounce back from, but letting Quinn go? That Bea can live with.

Honey suddenly realizes that she and Trevor have a lot to talk about over the next few weeks. No– she doesn’t want to have this conversation with Trevor and realize that he’s someone who is rapidly slipping through her fingertips, even though she has him now. She likes him and she wants to keep liking him. She doesn’t want to think about what will happen when he leaves every single time they’re together, not the way that it seems Bea is doing whenever she’s near Quinn.

Honey will have to make the most of it. Trevor’s departure– well, she’ll just have to see where the wind takes her. She’s got over a month left with him. She’s going to make the most of it.

53:90 – TREVOR

“No, dude, there’s no fucking way we miss out on the playoffs this year,” Cole argues, waving his fork at Jack menacingly. “I don’t care if there are two Hughes brothers on the Devils. Habs are going all the way to the Cup this year.”

“You fucking wish,” Luke chirps. “Montréal hasn’t won the Cup since ‘93, bro. We won the Cup more recently than you and we’re a better team. Ask anyone.”

“Ask anyone?” Cole demands, scoffing. “Let’s talk legacy, bro. The Devs are nothing.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jack says through a bite of his steak. “The Habs were bottom-five last year, dude. Arizona was better than you, and they don’t even exist anymore. The only one here who’s worse than you is Trevor.”

“Hey, we’re in our rebuild,” Trevor argues. “And we’ve been trading our good players, too.”

“You’re just still upset that your boyfriend isn’t on the team anymore,” Jack laughs. “At least you have Turcs nearby. Can’t believe he’d rather hang out with his girlfriend in LA this summer than with us–”

They all jolt as the front door swings open upstairs. The boys look around at each other. Even Quinn, who had been stabbing at the steak and salad on his plate silently while the boys bickered, snaps his head up to meet their eyes. Cole points to each of the boys, counting them off silently. They’re all here, so Trevor’s alarmed– who could possibly be at the door. 

He grabs his steak knife, gripping the handle of the utensil like he’s ready to use it in self defense. The boys listen as footsteps travel across the floor above them. They near the basement door and that, too, swings open. 

Cole, probably with the best self-preservation instincts (or a “flight” response compared to Trevor’s “grab-a-knife-and-fight” response), scrambles out of his chair and books it toward the glass sliding door. He doesn’t seem to remember that the glass door is the only door that they keep locked when they’re all home, so he tugs at the handle fruitlessly as the footsteps grow nearer. At the last second, he crouches for cover behind the pool table.

The other boys are not so concerned. Yes, Quinn’s got a light hand on his fork, equally ready to use that as a weapon, and Luke has his phone in his hand like he’s ready to call someone. Jack, however, just squints at the base of the stairs and continues to chew his food, even lifting another bite to his mouth. 

The improvised weaponry and Luke’s phone are deemed unnecessary as the intruders descend into the basement. It’s just Honey and Bea. 

“Oh,” Luke says, blinking in surprise and putting his phone away.

“‘Sup?” Jack asks, then lowers his eyes back to his plate and chooses another piece of steak to bring to his mouth. Even worse, he stabs a few pieces of lettuce from his salad, smothered in ranch, and pops those in his mouth before he’s done chewing the meat. 

Trevor curls his lip in disgust. He’s all for scarfing a meal down– but ranch and steak? No thanks.

“Hi, boys,” Bea greets calmly. “Good dinner?”

Jack nods, humming. He’s still chewing. “Yummy,” he mumbles. “Q outdid himself.”

Quinn returns to his food as well, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly like he can brush the compliment away. He pushes the salad around his plate, avoiding Bea’s eyes.

“Well, he’s the best cook in the house,” Bea replies. “Without him, you guys would be lost.”

Trevor frowns in confusion. This is new. It’s the first time that she’s acknowledged Quinn since Sunday– since Trevor told her to take a break. 

Quinn seems to realize the same thing, setting his fork down and blinking up at the girls.

Honey is trying to hold back a smile, her arms crossed over her chest. She hovers slightly behind Bea, who is wringing her hands and chewing on her bottom lip. She swallows, clearing her throat. She makes eye contact with Quinn briefly, then looks down.

“Um– can we talk?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. She presses her lips together like Quinn would ever say ‘no’ to her, nervous for his reply.

Trevor thinks Quinn isn’t quite sure what to say, since his answer is just a stilted nod and a disbelieving exhale of laughter, sparking a slight smile. He nods, clearing his own throat and moving his plate away. He sets it on the coffee table, wiping his hands on his shorts before he gets up. 

Bea is beaming to herself. Trevor watches her throw a glance at Honey, who tilts her head forward and sets her fist under her nose, covering her grin. She nods.

So it was Honey that solved this thing– Trevor can’t help but swell with pride for his girl. He might have gotten them into this, but she got them out of it. She’s the one erasing this completely unnecessary break between Bea and Quinn. She’s saving his butt, but she’s obviously helping Bea because she loves the girl and she wants her to be happy. 

Quinn takes a few steps towards Bea, then stops and turns back. He approaches the mantle below the television, plucking a small item that Trevor hadn’t noticed from the surface. He turns it over in his hands, then walks over and holds it out to Bea. It’s the birthday present he bought her, the one he wrapped so carefully and hadn’t given to Bea at her birthday lunch. 

“For your birthday,” Quinn says awkwardly, pushing the gift into her hands. “I left it down here in case you’d find it.”

Bea’s expression softens. “You got me a present?” She asks, letting her hand linger over his skin when she takes the box. “You didn’t have to.”

Quinn shrugs. “Wanted to.”

Jack snorts out something that sounds like “simp,” but he chokes down the last few bites of his food like he said nothing at all. Quinn tosses him a glare as he sits back in his chair and brushes his hands together, ridding them of any lingering crumbs. Jack smiles at Quinn, tight-lipped and kind instead of shit-eating like his jokes normally are, and Quinn lets it go.

Bea unwraps the present carefully, trying not to rip the paper, which makes Honey giggle behind her. She moves around Bea, drawing Trevor’s eyes. 

Honey comes to sit in Cole’s abandoned seat, the boy having finally risen from behind the pool table when Honey and Bea revealed themselves, but he still lingers there. He’s grabbed a cue– Trevor thinks he’s trying to cover for his fear by pretending he was playing pool all along. It doesn’t work, but maybe because Trevor saw the whole thing happen.

Luckily, his empty seat is next to Trevor, and Honey plops right down. She’s still watching Bea, but her index finger finds Trevor’s thigh and traces the seam of his pants briefly before pulling away.

A gasp comes from Bea, stealing Trevor’s gaze again. She blinks, touching the item inside the box reverently. Her bottom lip pokes out, head tilting to the side as she looks up at Quinn. Her hand comes up to her mouth, covering her pout. “Quinn,” she manages before her face folds with tears.

“Oh, baby,” Quinn sighs, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her torso, holding her close. 

Bea’s arms go around his shoulders, her face buried into his neck while she sobs. She’s spewing some incoherent whines into Quinn’s skin. Trevor understands one of her sniffled sentences: a repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” It’s hard to watch, to be honest. Bea looks tiny in Quinn’s arms. He rubs her back, soothing her with murmured words and cooed shushes. He brings his hands lower and lifts her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. 

As he walks toward the basement stairs, Bea clinging to him like an octopus, he sends a glare towards the dinner table that offers a clear message. Don’t ever bring this up again.

On the couch, hidden in plain sight, Honey presses her thigh against Trevor’s and crosses her arms over her chest again. With the hand that’s hidden behind her bicep, she nudges him with her knuckle. It’s subtle.

Trevor sees a smile on her face when he turns to look, knowing that it’s directed completely at him, even as she stares at the stairs that Bea and Quinn ascended. 

“What was that?” Luke asks Honey, placing his napkin on his empty plate and sitting back on the loveseat.

She shrugs with a shoulder. “They’re back together.” Honey looks over to Jack and grins, not sounding as sorry as she says. “I’m sorry that she won’t be fucking you tonight.”

“I don’t care,” Jack says, waving her away. “This is Bea and Quinn we’re talking about. That’s kind of a big deal.”

Honey’s surprised laugh has Trevor grinning, up until Jack winks at her.

With his wink, he adds, “Plus, Quinn told me that he said something pretty serious to Bea and she’d need time to digest it. I figure she told you?”

Honey nods, sealing her mouth shut with an imaginary key. She tosses it over her shoulder.

Jack nods too, sharing a secret smile with the girl that Trevor doesn’t like one bit. “We’ll talk about it later.” He stands, collects the empty plates on the table. “Coley, are you done?” He asks, turning around and facing the boy. 

Cole has racked a set of balls for a game. He nods at Jack. “Yeah, I’ll just eat a late-night snack. Who wants to play?”

Honey lights up. “Me!” She springs up from her spot next to Trevor and bounds over to the pool table, snatching a cue from the rack and assuming her place at the head of the table.

“Who said you were breaking?” Cole protests, shoving her out of the way with his hip. 

Honey’s head falls back, her laughter bright. 

She and Trevor don’t talk much, but she hangs out with them until the sun has long since gone down and the stars are twinkling in the sky. 

At the end of their evening, Trevor meets Honey at the front of the house and kisses her goodbye. She promises to see him tomorrow and presses a pair of cheap earplugs into his palm with a murmured “in case you can’t sleep over the noise coming from the honeymoon suite,” snickering at her own cleverness before offering him another kiss and heading home.

Every time he watches her go, his heart feels like it’s bursting, waiting for the next time he’ll see her again.

54:90 – HONEY

Apparently, Luke went walking in the woods today instead of doing his laundry shift and discovered an old basketball hoop in a clearing, so the boys forgave him for his transgression and now they’re playing ball. 

Honey and Bea have been sitting at courtside since they left work that evening. Bea hadn’t made it to the Nook in time to open the store– she owes Honey a few mornings off now– and she hadn’t even wanted to go home to glam up. She was too eager to see Quinn again– her boyfriend, officially. 

Honey isn’t sure if she would’ve gone as far as to make Quinn her boyfriend, if she was in Bea’s shoes, considering Bea is certain that their relationship won’t last outside of the summer anyway. 

Still, the label seems to give Bea a new twinkle in her eye. She rarely lets Quinn out of her sight and he’s no better. If she’s within an arm’s reach, his hands are on her body, claiming her as his own. Honey would be annoyed, but their joy is infectious. Honey is so drunk on the joy that she almost forgot that she and Trevor are a secret, because she nearly tilted her chin up for a kiss when he came over to greet the girls. 

Honey thinks that the news has been broken to Jack, Cole, and Luke that Bea is officially off-limits. She’s almost certain that Jack decided to rib Quinn by pouting and asking if he could just have a night to say goodbye, given the red Indian burn above his wrist– then, Honey briefly wondered if kids have changed the name of an Indian burn since she was on the playground as a child. It has to be an offensive term, but she can’t imagine what else to call it. 

She’s actually supposed to get all the information tonight from Jack. When she gave Quinn her phone number after crying in his car, Honey wasn’t expecting the other boys to hijack his phone and steal her information. Yet, this morning, she received a text from an unknown number that read, Need to discuss the big ILY w you. 2nite? and then, Btw this is J$$$!!!

J-Money, he said. No one has ever called Jack ‘J-Money,’ but he said it with the confidence of a man who has been called J-Money for his whole life. Honey had to look up his area code to make sure it was really Jack, but she should have known just by the way he typed. It was typical Jack.

The basketball game seems to be dying down– the boys are panting and starting to dish out lazy fouls. When Cole gets backhanded in the face by Luke, he declares that the game is officially over and he quits. The Hughes boys, dressed in Alvin and the Chipmunks colors in what they swear is a recreation of an old photo, join Honey and Bea at courtside while Trevor and Cole gather the basketball and the water bottles strewn on the ground haphazardly. 

“Good game, Q,” Bea says with a fond smile. When he sits on the ground beside her, she climbs onto his lap and makes herself comfortable. She pecks his lips before returning to the group, giggling at the side-eye Jack and Luke share.

“H, wanna go chat?” Jack asks, extending a hand to her. 

“Pulling her for a chat?” Bea interjects, referencing her favorite show– the one they’ve been watching because Cole is just as obsessed as she is.

Jack eyes Bea again. “Going to talk shit about you, bud.”

Bea laughs.

Honey takes Jack’s hand and he pulls her to a standing position. Honey wipes over her backside, clearing it of dirt, twigs, leaves, or whatever else she might have been sitting in. “Yeah, J, let’s go.” To the others, she asks, “Do you guys want to start a fire when you get back to the house? We’ll join you when we’re done talking about Bea.”

“You’re really going to talk about her, huh?” Quinn asks, a laugh tinging his words. 

“Not just her,” Honey promises with a little wink. 

Jack laughs, then he loops his arm with Honey’s and starts to head back towards the house. She marches along with him, pretending like they’re wooden nutcrackers in a Christmas movie. It was Jack’s idea and it made her laugh, so she played along.

They make it back to the house, only getting a little bit lost in the maze of identical trees. Luckily, Honey has always had a good sense of direction when it comes to the woods, and she finds the path out of the greenery after only a minute or two. 

Jack takes her up to his room, which she’s never been inside other than the peek she stole during Cole’s initial tour of the house. His bed is just as big as Trevor’s and he’s got a wicker rocking chair in the corner, which Trevor doesn’t have.

She moves to occupy the chair, but Jack pushes her toward the bed. “It’s not comfortable,” Jack says. “You’ve been sitting on the ground all night, bro.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Honey says, shrugging. “Really, I don’t mind.”

Jack narrows his eyes at her. “I do. Plus, you’re giving me all the dirt. That means you get the good seat. What happened on Bea’s side?”

“Tell me Quinn’s side first,” Honey replies, crinkling her nose.

“I asked you first,” Jack argues. 

“Well, I’m prettier than you, so you have to do what I say,” Honey says snidely, trying to hide the smile that creeps onto her face every time she jokes with the boys and they, gullibly, take her seriously.

Jack’s mouth drops open and he scoffs. “Are not!”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Am too!”

Jack switches tactics. “Tell me about Bea,” he whines, elongating the girl’s name. “I wanna know what happened.”

“I don’t know what they talked about last night,” Honey laughs. “She didn’t tell me. I was hoping Quinn told you.”

“He didn’t tell me either,” Jack says, frowning. He snaps his fingers. “Darn. Just when I thought he and I were getting somewhere.”

“So we have nothing to talk about?” Honey demands.

“No.” Jack shakes his finger. “He told me that he said he loves her. That’s it, though. You know more, don’t you?”

“I do,” Honey tells him.

Jack brightens. He clasps his hands together and rubs them excitedly. “What did she say?”

Honey laughs, curt and short. “That she couldn’t deal with that right now.”

Jack makes a face. “What?”

“I mean, they were on a break, Jack. She was upset, too, and then he follows after her and tells her that he loves her? Of course she didn’t know what to say,” Honey says.

“Ugh, how frustrating,” Jack sighs. “I thought she’d be down for that.”

“It’s not that she’s not down for that,” Honey says. “Obviously, since they’re boyfriend-girlfriend now. But, like– can you keep a secret?”

“No.” Jack shakes his head, his answer resolute. “Never been able to do that.”

Honey rolls her eyes, her expression flat and annoyed when she looks at him. 

Jack breaks into laughter. “Not from my brothers, dude. From Trevor? Sure, I can keep a secret. From Cole? That’s easy. But not Quinn and Luke.”

“Yes, because Quinn doesn’t already know what happened,” Honey replies sarcastically. 

“Hardy har,” Jack fake-laughs at her. He reverts to a normal tone of voice. “Seriously, though, if Luke asks me, I won’t keep a secret from him.”

“Then I won’t tell you,” Honey says, dangling the information above Jack’s head. She crosses her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows. She stubbornly keeps her mouth shut, waiting for him to make his decision.

Her phone rings.

Now, it’s Jack’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Are you going to answer that?” He asks after the fifth ring. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jack shrugs. “Okay.”

The rings cease and they continue to stare at each other, waiting for the other person to break. Wow, she thinks, he really doesn’t want to keep a secret from his little brother. I wonder what that’s like.

She never had siblings, so she’ll never know– except that she doesn’t like to keep secrets from Bea, who is basically a sister.

Her phone rings again. The first time, it could’ve been anyone. The second time, however, Honey knows who’s on the other end. She never receives calls from different people back-to-back like this, which rules out any spam calls or appointment confirmations. Plus, it’s night now, so fraudulent messages and legitimate calls from businesses are out of the question. It’s obvious. The person on the phone is Trevor.

Jack grins, looking more devilish. “Are you going to answer that now?” He repeats, smug. “Someone’s popular.”

Honey flushes red. “Shut up,” she hisses, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Sure enough, Trevor’s code name (the wolf emoji– he chose it himself and she was just so glad to be rid of his real name that she didn’t ask questions) flashes across her screen. She taps the green button to accept his call and brings the phone to her ear. “Yes?” She snaps.

“Where are you?” Trevor drawls. “Saw you leave with Jack. What are you doing?”

“I’m busy,” Honey tells him. “I’ll see you later.” She hangs up.

Jack snickers. “Hot date tonight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Honey shoots back.

“There are a lot of things I’d like to know. One: Bea’s secret. Two: who you’re seeing tonight. Three: if water is really wet, because, well, do you remember that trend from a few years ago when people said water wasn’t wet? It really fucked with my head and now–”

“You’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” Honey interrupts.

Jack wears the insult like a badge of honor. “Thanks! Tell me Bea’s secret. I will try not to tell Luke.”

Honey glares at him.

Jack holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s the best I can do for you.”

Honey relents. “Fine. She’s never been in a big relationship before, just a bunch of little ones. She likes to date people and hook up with them, but she doesn’t really like to commit to people. She likes to use the word “ex-boyfriend,” like, a lot, but none of them actually qualified as boyfriends when she was going out with them.”

Jack hums, furrowing his brow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Honey confirms. She considers telling Jack the whole story– how Bea wasn’t interested in being in a lengthy relationship while they were in school, how Thomas fucked her over at the end of their time together, how Bea was there for her through it all and how it affected her own views on relationships. While Honey was hurt because such a thing happened to her, Bea was paranoid that something similar would happen to her if she wasn’t careful. After a minute, she decides not to. There’s no reason to bring Thomas up where he’s not relevant. 

“So, Quinn is Bea’s first real boyfriend?” Jack asks.

Honey nods.

“Quinn says that she doesn’t want to stay together after the summer ends, though. I thought it was because we were all hooking up with her.” Jack shakes his head, still looking confused. “But now they’re together, so they’re… staying together?”

“Um…” Honey trails off. She takes a breath, groaning a little bit as she tries to explain herself. “I don’t know what they said to each other last night–”

“Not much, judging by the noises that kept me up,” Jack interrupts.

“–but Bea said that she’d miss him too much when he leaves, so for her own sanity, they’ll probably still end it,” Honey finishes.

Jack snorts. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” Honey says.

“Why would they get together for, like, a month, just to break up?” Jack continues. “Quinn’s done long distance before, I’m sure he’d be happy doing long distance with Bea. I mean, it would be better if it wasn’t long distance, but I feel like long distance is better than nothing.”

“Bro, you’re telling me,” Honey laughs. “I said pretty much the same thing.”

“I don’t understand them,” Jack adds, his rant resuming. “Also, why are you– Quinn, I mean– telling a girl you love her after knowing her for two months? Less than that. He got here late.”

“Time passes differently in the mountains,” Honey explains with a shrug.

“Does it?” Jack questions, punctuating his sentence with a grimace. “I mean, yeah, it seems like we’ve been here for ages. Still, check the calendar– it’s only been two months. Quinn telling Bea that he loves her is like… love-bombing.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Honey asks with another laugh.

“Yes, I know what love-bombing is,” Jack snaps defensively. “I have been accused in the past!”

Honey laughs aloud, throwing her head back. “Of course you have,” she cries out, a little too loud for the quiet bedroom. 

“I was a teenager,” Jack explains himself desperately, clearly upset that Honey is laughing at him. 

“I just think it’s funny that you know what love-bombing is because you’ve done it,” Honey continues, still giggling to herself.

A knock at the door interrupts them. Jack stands to go answer, opening the door to reveal the boy that Honey just hung up on barely five minutes prior.

Trevor’s face turns cloudy when he sees Honey over Jack’s shoulder, sitting comfortably on the boy’s bed. “Fire’s ready,” he says, words clipped.

Jack doesn’t notice. “Okay,” he says, grinning. He turns to Honey, nodding at her. “Ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” Honey agrees. She has very little else to say to Jack, although she had fun chatting with him and gossiping. It’s funny– at their core, each of these boys eat up the drama just as much as a girl would. They claim that they don’t care, but they really, really do. Not only do they care, but they crave the information. 

She hops up from Jack’s bed, walking towards the door. She touches his bicep and squeezes, just to tell him that she enjoyed herself without saying anything at all, then brushes by him. She smiles at Trevor briefly, while her back is to Jack so he can’t see it, but he doesn’t return it. 

Jack follows behind her, then Trevor. They go all the way outside, where the fire is crackling a few hundred feet from the house. The boys have pulled chairs from the porch and brought them around the fire pit, leaving extras for Honey and Trevor. Quinn and Bea are bundled in a blanket, Bea’s head lying back on Quinn’s shoulder. She looks up at him, yawning every so often. Luke has a blanket too– he wears it like a hoodie. 

Cole is tending the fire, tossing leaves onto the stack of wood and lifting his eyes to watch the particles burn while they dance on the wind. Upon hearing Honey, Jack, and Trevor, though, he bounces up. “Don’t take my seat!” He warns unnecessarily, nearing his chair way before any of them get close. Jack tries to tug him out of the seat anyway.

Honey takes the empty chair next to Bea and Quinn. 

Bea turns her head and lazily blinks at the girl. “What do you think about a lake day tomorrow?” She asks, her words running together as a result of her exhaustion. It’s been a long day. 

Honey smiles at the girl, a private smile just for her. “Are you sure you can make it? You look sleepy, babe.”

“‘M just comfy,” Bea denies. Her face looks a little puffy from how tired she is. Honey reaches over and thumbs over her cheek. Bea scrunches her face, disrupting Honey’s movements. “Q will wake me up for lake day if I sleep in too much, anyway.”

“You’re staying over?” Honey asks. Her tone isn’t judgmental, just curious. 

Bea nods, humming a confirmation. Quinn reaches out from under the blanket and tucks her hair behind her ear, out of her face. She blows him a kiss in thanks. 

“Do you want to sleep over, too?” Quinn asks. “We’ve got the extra room. With the bunk beds. Well, Luke moved in this morning, but you could sleep on the top bunk with him and tell scary stories like it’s summer camp.”

“No scary stories,” Luke grumbles. “I’m too tired for that. I need to sleep tonight.”

“Aw, what kept you up?” Quinn teases, smirking to himself at the joke. 

Luke doesn’t laugh. Instead, he ignores Quinn after throwing him a mean glare, turning to Trevor on his right and starting a conversation.

They split into groups unintentionally– Luke and Trevor, Jack and Cole, and Bea and Honey (with a side of Quinn, although he doesn’t jump in often). 

The night turns colder and the cicadas raise their voices, chirping in the trees and adding a backtrack to the mix of voices in the backyard. There are fireflies floating around. One of them lands on Cole’s shoulder, which initially startles him so much that it flies away, even as he begs for his “new friend” to come back. 

Honey and Bea’s conversation dies out eventually. Bea turns to her boyfriend, pouting her lips for a kiss and never letting him part from her for too long. Quinn peppers her face, planting extra kisses on her lips. Everyone ignores them, but they’re all aware of what’s happening.

Honey stares across the circle, letting her gaze fall out-of-focus. She’s tired– Bea and Luke aren’t the only ones who are yawning. She twists a strand of hair around her finger absentmindedly, feeling the way the individual pieces move and bend with her movements. 

She forgets that that’s their secret code, her and Trevor. She remembers when she feels eyes on her, finding Trevor. He looks at her, then to her hair, then he looks away. 

Honey doesn’t want to fuck tonight, so she stops her movement and picks at a hangnail next to her index finger instead. She’s feeling sluggish, and quite frankly, she just wants to go home. She’d better get on the way before she starts to worry about falling asleep at the wheel. It won’t happen, but Honey would rather be safe than sorry.

She bundles herself in her own blanket, standing from her chair. Through a yawn, she says, “I’m gonna head home, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A litany of goodbyes follow her, but for the first time since they started hooking up, Trevor does not.

Honey doesn’t realize until she gets all the way home and all the way comfortable in her bed. She’s just about to fall asleep when it dawns on her that she didn’t get a goodnight kiss. He didn’t even react when she accidentally used their sex-code, just looked away. Honey stares at the dark ceiling, blinking to herself. 

Her final act before falling asleep is sending Trevor an ‘xoxo’ message, just so he knows that she’s thinking about him. He’s probably not awake, but it soothes Honey enough that she can drift off and start to dream.

55:90 – TREVOR

A truck horn sounds outside, breaking Trevor’s concentration. He had been staring at the potatoes in his breakfast bowl, trying to count the pepper flakes that season it. He’s rapidly running out of things to do in Litchton– it’s always been a problem, but he’s tired of scrolling aimlessly on his phone and waiting for TikToks to load. He hasn’t been to the Nook in a week or two, which means he hasn’t had anything to read. Quite frankly, he’s not like Quinn; he doesn’t want to dust off the books in the living room and crack them open. Books in vacation homes are just decorative. 

Jack comes bouncing down the stairs, completely bypassing the kitchen and heading for the front door. Luke isn’t far behind him, although he comes up from the basement carrying the inflatable raft that the two brothers had bought a few weeks prior. The door slams twice behind them, then once more as Cole makes his way outside. Trevor catches a snippet of a creaky old engine running while the door is open.

No one told him they were doing something today. He’ll just sit right here and eat his breakfast bowl until they invite him personally.

He scoops up a spoonful of eggs, cheese, potatoes, and leftover steak from the other night. Upon eating it, he realizes that there’s not enough hot sauce in that bite. He picks up the Texas Pete sauce and douses his bowl, using his spoon to mix everything together and make sure it’s all coated. He hopes it wasn’t too much. His tolerance for hot stuff is moderately high, but too much sauce can ruin his breakfast. He’d hate to have to make it again.

“Trev, c’mon, let’s go,” Bea calls as she bounces down the stairs in twos, just like Jack did. 

It’s hardly an invitation. 

Quinn goes down the stairs behind her, glancing at Trevor where he sits at the counter. His eyes pass over Trevor, then return to the girl in front of him. They leave the house with the door cracked open behind them.

Trevor allows the cool AC of the house to escape, making no move to get up from his seat. “What happened to ‘Trevor, we’re going out, would you like to come?’” Trevor mocks in a high voice, just to himself. He continues grumbling under his breath as he pokes at the contents of his breakfast.

“No, I said I’ll get him!” comes Quinn’s voice after a minute, becoming more clear as he comes back into the house. He walks into the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. “We’re going to the lake, come on.”

Trevor takes another bite of his bowl. He doesn’t move from his seat.

Quinn sets his jaw. “Are you coming with us or not?”

Trevor shrugs. “Don’t know. Wasn’t invited.”

“This is an invitation,” Quinn snarls. “So are you coming or not?”

“I’d like to finish my breakfast,” Trevor says. “Can it wait?”

“You can take your breakfast in the truck,” Quinn says through his teeth. “I don’t think Earl will mind, especially if you’re sitting in the bed with the rest of us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to make a mess in Earl’s truck.”

“If you do, I’ll wash it.” 

Trevor’s enjoying this a little bit– Quinn is trying so hard to keep his composure that his nostrils are flaring and his eyes are flashing. Trevor kind of wants to see how much it takes before he snaps.

“We don’t have a hose,” Trevor points out. 

Quinn takes a breath. “Then I will buy one.”

“Do you even know where the spigot is?”

It apparently doesn’t take long to find Quinn’s last straw. His patience dissipates when Trevor insults his intelligence.

He walks away. The door slams behind him and Trevor giggles through another bite of his breakfast.

A car door slams shut, then the front door. Good, Trevor thinks. Here comes Bea. I’ll get to chew out both of them. He smiles to himself.

It’s not Bea. He’s not so lucky. It’s his girlfriend, not Quinn’s, and by the looks of her, she’s pissed off. 

She nears him and approaches the counter, reaching out and snatching his bowl and dumping the rest of it in the trash can. She practically throws the bowl into the sink, the ceramic clattering louder than he’s ever heard it before.

Honey takes a deep breath, eyes steely as she stares at him. Her hands are planted on the counter, bracketing the sink. She squints, then licks over her teeth, debating how best to deal with this– the scene that Trevor is causing.

“So what, you think I slept with Jack?” Honey snaps. “Because I went upstairs and gossiped with him about Bea and Quinn? Because I sat on his bed, on top of the covers, completely clothed? And that’s why you’re sitting here, pouting.”

“I don’t think you slept with Jack,” Trevor grumbles. 

“Good, because that’s deranged,” Honey continues. “I’m not sleeping with Jack. I’m sleeping with you. Well, actually, I won’t be sleeping with you for about a week because you’re being a dick. Get in the car. We’re going to the lake. Or don’t! I don’t give a fuck. I’m driving away from this house in one minute and you can either come with us, or you can sulk all day.” She folds her arms over her chest and stares at him for a few seconds, then turns on her heel and stomps away.

He was so busy going speechless over her little tirade that he didn’t notice that she’s wearing a hot pink bikini top and her daisy dukes. It contrasts her skin nicely and the string in the back leaves little to the imagination. 

Yes, Trevor was upset the night before. Yes, he was jealous that Honey went upstairs with Jack and laughed and squealed with him in a way that she’s never done with Trevor. She also completely brushed him off on the phone, saying she was busy and that she’d see him later. She hung up on him. He’s supposed to be angry.

But, then again, he doesn’t want to be in a fight with Honey. It was complete torture to ignore her ‘xoxo’ text message last night, especially since she doesn’t give out affection that often. At least, not where it can be traced back to her. Not when there’s a paper trail and text messages are part of a paper trail– so Trevor really should’ve taken a screenshot of the rare, sweet message from Honey and printed the picture out to put in his wallet.

His minute is almost up. In the interest of making up with Honey, and in the interest of seeing her in her little, hot pink swimsuit, Trevor goes. Honey is literally shifting the car into drive by the time he makes it outside, leaving the front door unlocked because he didn’t have time to grab a key. The car is rolling forward when he manages to hop onto the tailgate, joining the group in the nick of time.

“Nice of you to join us, buddy,” Cole say, clapping Trevor on the back. “No swimsuit?”

“I didn’t know we were going to the lake until five minutes ago,” Trevor says. 

“Yuh-huh,” Cole insists. “We talked about it last night. You were there. Glowering.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Trevor says, partially because he’s not sure what it means. It sounds a little bit like ‘glaring,’ though, so he thinks he’s got the gist of it.

“I do too know it it means,” Cole says. “I asked Bea after she said you weren’t listening because you were too busy glowering. It’s my word of the day.”

“Whatever,” Trevor says, brushing him off and looking over the edge of the bed of the truck. He watches the trees pass and the curve of the road, how the edge of the pavement crumbles off sharply after years of wear and tear. 

The rural roads probably haven’t been paved in, what, fifteen years? He’d ask Honey, but she wouldn’t know. Maybe he’ll ask Earl when he sees him in town next. The old man certainly has a gripe about the roads being closed for roadwork– he probably remembers the exact date and how long he sat in traffic in this old truck, cursing at the workers. 

They arrive at the lake shortly, piling out of the bed. Honey’s parking job is slightly crooked, but Trevor doesn’t say anything. No one does, considering how hard she slammed the door to the cab of the truck.

She helps Luke carry the tube down to the docks while Bea and Quinn rent a boat. Jack and Cole ask about renting a wakeboard, since they forgot theirs at the house. Trevor trudges after Luke and Honey, his shirt already starting to stick to his back from the heat. 

It takes a few minutes, but the other members of the group join them. One of the workers, a teenage boy that reminds Trevor of Quinn the summer before he started at UMich, drives the boat up to the dock and hands the keys off to Quinn. They pile onto the boat and Quinn starts to drive off. Jack ties the raft to a handle on the back of the boat, then the tow-rope to the awning above the console. 

Everyone else kind of does their own thing. 

Trevor drives the boat because he’s still a little pouty from earlier. 

Honey sheds her daisy dukes and lays out at the front of the boat with Bea, tanning her back. Trevor has a nice view of her butt and how her swimsuit doesn’t offer as much coverage as it should, given Quinn is right there. It’s cheeky and Trevor wants to swat at her skin just to watch it bounce– he’s sure that any of the other boys would be thinking the same thing. 

On the bright side, Quinn’s got a hand on Bea’s upper thigh. He seems preoccupied, trying to keep his hand in that exact spot until there’s a pale imprint on Bea’s skin. He wants her tan to be uneven, but only in the shape of his hand.

Jack is the real culprit– if anyone was going to look at Honey, it would be him. He’s actually getting ready to toss the raft out behind the boat, so he doesn’t pay any mind to Honey. Cole is with him, donning a life jacket, and Luke is reclining somewhere behind Trevor, soaking in the sun just like the girls.

Trevor slows to a stop and Cole jumps off the back of the boat to swim towards the raft. “Don’t hold back, Z!” He calls as he swims, catching one of the handles of the raft and dragging himself onto the floating device. Once he’s got a good hold on the raft, he tells Trevor to go, and Trevor takes off.

Cole falls off within minutes. Trevor launches him off the raft, but Cole comes up laughing. He tries to outlast his previous round each time he gets on the tube. 

They waste over an hour on the tube, switching riders when the current person’s hands get too tired from gripping the handles and trying to stay float. Trevor drives the whole time because, well… he didn’t have time to put on a swimsuit. He’s just got his joggers and his t-shirt, as well as the underwear beneath his joggers. He’s fine with staying clothed all day.

Then, Jack tells Bea and Quinn that they have to do a pairs-run on the tube. They don’t last for more than a minute, maybe, not with Trevor swinging them around and forcing the tube to jump over the wake like a skateboarder in a half pipe. Bea shrieks and falls off the tube first, Quinn following after her to act as her own personal buoy.

Trevor knows that he can’t escape for long. The second Bea climbs back onto the boat, she turns to him. “Trev, you haven’t gone in the water today. C’mon. Switch with Quinn.”

“Honey hasn’t gone in the water either,” Quinn points out.

Honey’s jaw drops and she stares at Quinn, completely aghast. “I didn’t know it was a requirement to get in the water.”

“It’s not fun unless you do,” Quinn replies. “Let’s go. I’ll drive. You guys can do a pair and you’ll get it over with.”

Honey grumbles about it, but Trevor has to admit that he’s right. Lake days aren’t truly fun unless you’re able to swim around. 

“Sure, let’s do it,” Trevor agrees, waiting for Quinn to get a hand on the steering wheel before he stands from his Captain’s Chair and sheds his shirt. He looks at Bea when he asks his next question, because he knows this doesn’t matter to the other guys and it’s not like Honey’s never seen him in his underwear. “Do you mind if I wear my briefs?”

Bea sputters out a laugh, blowing a raspberry to wave him off. “I don’t care. As long as you’re not buck-naked, I’m fine. Honey? Do you mind if Trevor wears his briefs? You’re the one who’ll be on the tube with him.”

She covers for them well, making sure that the other girl on the boat gets to voice her opinion. Again, Trevor, Bea, and Quinn all know that Honey wouldn’t care, but in order to save face, they ask anyway.

Honey shrugs. “I don’t care. Just don’t put your dick near me.”

“It’d be kind of funny if he was naked, though,” Cole says. “I’m not saying I want to see it, but it’s a funny image. Tubing with his bare ass out.”

Jack curls his lip. “Yeah, but then his dick would get all over the raft. We’d never be able to use it again.”

“Oh my God, I’m not stripping,” Trevor interrupts. “I’m wearing my underwear, dude.” To Cole, he adds: “Stop thinking about my bare ass!”

Cole gives him a shrug and a smirk. “Is it as smooth as a baby’s bottom, Z? Are you Katy Perry from Teenage Dream? What aesthetic are we going for?”

“I’m going to hit you in the nuts if you don’t shut up.”

“You’d love that.”

“That’s enough,” Honey says. “Stop talking about genitalia. Let’s get this over with. I want time to dry off.”

She dives off the back of the boat, entering the water much more gracefully than Trevor does. No, he gets pushed by Cole after removing his joggers. Does it count as a push if Cole was just trying to pants Trevor and force him to skinny dip, making Trevor fall off the boat while twisting away from his prying hands?

He swims towards the raft, where Honey is already treading water. She’s got a hand on the handle, ready to pull herself up. 

“Don’t look at my butt,” Trevor says.

Honey glares at him from the side of her eye. “I wasn’t going to look at your butt. Don’t look at mine.”

She pulls herself onto the raft and Trevor looks anyway. Then, he drags himself up and clenches his fingers around two of the handles. Honey takes the one next to his right hand, just inches away from touching him. Trevor misses her, even though she’s right there.

He takes his hand from the handle and loops his arm around Honey’s. 

She turns her head and glares at him again.

“So we don’t fall off,” Trevor supplies.

Honey rolls her eyes and faces forward again. She yells to the boat. “We’re ready!”

Quinn takes off, starting slow, then he speeds up rather abruptly. They’re being jostled by the waves, their knuckles white as they nearly start cramping from holding on so tight. 

Honey starts shrieking as they jump over the waves, the lake water blowing in their face. Her hair is whipping around in the wind, smacking Trevor in the face, but he’s smiling so hard that his eyes are crinkling. The sun hits him right in the eyes too, just like the water droplets and Honey’s hair, but it’s so fun. Their arms are linked and they hold on tight.

Eventually, Honey gets a faceful of water and she splutters, using Trevor’s skin to wipe her eyes. She buries her face into their intertwined arms, laughing briefly. 

Trevor wishes the other boys knew about them, so that he could kiss her face while they ride the waves– although it would probably be a bump of his chin against her forehead, one that results in a nasty bruise on her skin and a little blood in his mouth from biting his tongue. 

After a particularly nasty wave, Honey loses her grip and drags Trevor with her. 

They plunge into the water together, fully soaked when they resurface. Quinn drives along, a few hundred feet away before Bea bops him on the side of the head and points at the empty raft. He drives in a big circle, looping back. 

Trevor touches Honey’s arm as they tread water, their fingers brushing. She finds his hand again and squeezes his fingers under the water, out of sight. 

“Think you should go wakesurfing in a bit,” Honey suggests quietly, just for Trevor to hear. He knows that sound travels over water, so it makes sense that she’s speaking so quietly. “I’m mad at you for being so stubborn, but your thighs look really good in your undies, baby.”

She starts to swim toward the boat, which is finally close enough that they can return to it. 

Trevor grabs her ankle. “I told you not to look at my butt!” He exclaims.

“It’s so big, I just can’t help it!” Honey calls back, splashing him with a big kick. 

He goes under the water to fix his hair before he finds the boat again and joins the group again. He’s got a new attitude now, like the water was an actual rebirth.

56:90 – HONEY

When Bea and Honey were little, Bea’s oldest sister, Trixie, became obsessed with daily holidays. For Christmas when Bea and Honey were five, she received a calendar that detailed all the fun, quirky holidays that fall on any given day of the year. 

July 21st is National “Get Out of the Dog House” Day. When Bea and Honey were that young, they didn’t know what getting out of the dog house meant. They thought it meant that they had to get out of the dog’s house– and Bea’s father regularly referred to her childhood dog, Bronco, as the king of the house.

They insisted on sleeping in tents in the backyard that year. Ironically, Bronco came with them and spent the hot summer night outside, getting a bout of the zoomies that had Honey and Bea yelling and exiling him from the tent until he calmed down. It was so much fun that they’ve tried to recreate the night every year since. 

Bronco joined them every year until they were eleven, easily the worst year of all the ones they spent outside. It was very lonely without the massive, fat, entirely non-intimidating Rottweiler to protect them. The following year, they were joined by Bruno, the McLean’s new Rottweiler puppy, named aptly after Bruno Mars when he howled along to one of Mars’ songs on the drive home from the adoption center.

Their best July 21st, after the first, was when they were 16. Trixie had bought a bottle of Smirnoff for Bea for her birthday, but Bea was saving it for her night with Honey. They drank about half the bottle together before they both decided that they felt too nauseous to continue. They giggled and felt warm from the inside out, which really wasn’t necessary considering how hot it was in Charlotte in the middle of the summer. They talked about everything under the sun– reminiscing, talking about boys even though Honey had been in a relationship for months at that point, singing songs, doing dances, everything. Mr. McLean came out to the tent around 2 a.m. and told them they needed to be quiet. Bea threw up in the garden the following morning, trying to hide their sneaky drinking under the cover of leafy plants, and if Bea’s mom ever noticed the vomit, she never said anything.

Even since they’ve been in Litchton, they’ve spent National “Get Out of the Dog House” Day outside. They bought hammocks and strung them up in Honey’s backyard the first year, finding a few trees that were perfectly spaced out. It was one of the traditions that made it out of Charlotte when they left. 

Now, their night isn’t complete without a shared bottle of red wine and a charcuterie board, to start. They eat a bunch of terrible snacks as the night goes on and usually drink a warm mug of Bea’s sleepytime tea once the wind picks up and they decide that they need to bring their sleeping bags out, as well as the blankets they use like tortilla shells around a burrito.

This year, they have five new additions to the tradition.

Honey almost wishes that Bruno was here instead. He peed in the tent when he was a puppy, and that’s still more preferable than having five twenty-something year old boys in her backyard and in her house. The only blessing is that they can use the outdoors as their bathroom– so Honey won’t need to disinfect the seat each time she walks inside to use her toilet.

Six bottles of red wine sit on her counter, ready to be shared by seven people. Quinn came over early with Bea and commandeered Honey’s oven, searing steaks and plating salted ham for a homemade charcuterie board and baking chicken breasts that were to be shredded and thrown into her crockpot to make a soup for a late night snack instead of Bea’s sleepytime tea.

Honey doesn’t mind having a personal chef, which is what Quinn basically is, but she wishes they could just eat bag after bag of buttery microwave popcorn until their stomachs hurt. 

Honestly, her discomfort is probably rooted in sharing her home for the first time, well, ever. The only people that have come to her house are her parents– who lived there first– Bea, Ada, and Trevor. Sometimes Bea’s ex, Griffin, will come and mow Honey’s grass. That’s only really once a month, and he never comes inside, so it doesn’t count.

Her driveway is full– her car, Bea’s car, and Trevor’s car. Now, there are five boys in her backyard, hanging up their own hammocks in the trees, drinking wine from plastic cups because she’ll be damned if the boys use her good glassware in the outdoors. 

They’ve gone through two bottles already, just with the first round of drinks. Cole has a heavy hand and they chilled the bottles for 20 minutes before they left the rental house, which Honey thinks makes the alcohol easier to drink. 

It’s been probably thirty minutes since the boys got here. They’ve already taken a tour of her house– she doesn’t like that they went into her bedroom and Cole jumped on her bed– and they’ve started a fire in an old fire pit that hasn’t been used since her dad vacationed in the house. 

It’s such a caveman thing to do– I cook food. I build fire. I provide for woman.

Right in line with Honey’s thoughts, Quinn calls to the group from Honey’s back door. “Dinner’s ready!” He announces, returning to the kitchen.

Luke agrees to watch the fire while everyone gets food, saying that he’ll go last.

There are vegetables and dipping sauce like ranch and bleu cheese on the homemade board. There’s steak, salted ham, and all sorts of cheese. There are crackers and different kinds of bread. Even Trevor, who Honey has noticed avoiding Quinn for the past few days, compliments him on the presentation. 

“It wasn’t just me,” Quinn replies. “Bea helped too.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bea laughs, grabbing a stack of cucumbers and putting them on her paper plate. “I just sat there and looked pretty.”

“You found the meat thermometer when I couldn’t,” Quinn reminds her.

“Okay, fine,” Bea relents. “I helped with that. But everything else was all you.”

Honey and Jack make eye contact as the two continue to insist that the other was partially or wholly responsible for the meal. Jack widens his eyes like he’s trying to send her a message– ‘They’re making me sick.’

“The meal is nice either way, guys,” Honey offers. “Let’s not make it a whole thing. It’s Get Out of the Dog House Day, not ‘argue about who’s right until someone is thrown into the dog house’ day.”

Trevor laughs, which is nice of him. It wasn’t a particularly good joke, either. 

He’s in a better mood now, but that doesn’t mean that Honey’s not still mad at him for being so rude and stubborn the other day. Sometimes, Trevor seems to get so frustrated and annoyed that he either acts out or he completely shuts off. All of it is for attention or to make his presence known. 

She and Bea watched some of the boys’ highlights last week at the Nook when there was a lull, and Trevor’s a good player, but he can snap easily. Honey doesn’t like that. She likes it even less when it’s directed at her or her friends– which is exactly what happened yesterday morning.

She likes Trevor a lot, but yesterday, she wanted to rip his hair out of his head and scream at him for acting stupid.

Luckily, it passed. He’s being sweet again, sharing fond little smiles with Honey when he thinks no one is watching. She doesn’t take full credit for solving his bad mood, but once he found an excuse to touch her (“So we don’t fall off,” he said), he was back to himself.

They circle around the fire pit again. Luke goes to get his food. They chat until the golden hour of sunlight disappears into the darkness underneath twinkling stars. 

They stargaze when it hits midnight, heads bunched up together as they lay back. They’ve all but finished the bottles of wine; the final one is being passed around in the circle as Trevor points out constellations that the boys seem to have trouble mapping out. Luke and Cole especially complain that all they can see is a blob. 

Bea and Quinn are the first to peel off. After drinking the equivalent of 80% of a bottle of red wine, Bea is tipsy and handsy. She had rolled into Quinn’s side and started touching his lower abdomen, sliding her hand under his t-shirt, very clearly signaling to him that she wanted something. Honey had to tell her to stop or leave, and Quinn decided that they would just go to bed. They’re sharing a hammock, which feels like a recipe for disaster. What if one of them rolls over in the middle of the night and rocks the hammock, eventually tipping it and sending them both to the ground, all while dead asleep? That would be a terrible wakeup call.

The fire is already dying out, since they haven’t been tending to it. The chill from the air sends Jack into Honey’s house to find one of her big sweatshirts, since he’s a fool and didn’t bring one. He returns in one of Bea’s big sweatshirts that she left at Honey’s one morning after a sleepover and with the throw pillow from her couch wrapped around him. Cole fights him for it, winning the blanket after he knees Jack in the gut.

Jack starts cussing like a sailor, growling at Cole like he’s cursing him. 

“I think you’re overtired, Jack,” Luke interrupts, shooing the boy away. “And drunk. You already got your sweatshirt. Go to your hammock.”

Miraculously, Jack listens and stumbles away.

Luke turns to Honey. “Do you have any other blankets? I’ll take one if you do. I’ll bring one to Jack, too. I’ll make sure everyone gives them back in the morning.”

“Yeah, darlin’,” Honey agrees. “I’ll go grab a few. I think it’s time for us all to go to bed, so I’ll come around and hand off the hammocks. You need anything else?” Her question is directed at all three remaining boys, not just Luke.

Cole shakes his head, grinning smugly as he wraps himself in the blanket. He spins like Dracula, blanket flowing out behind him like a cape until he covers the lower half of his face with his forearm, side-eying Honey as he retreats into the darkness of the woods. He backs away suspiciously, until he backs into a tree and stumbles, nearly falling down.

Honey laughs at him. Luke goes to help him into his hammock, saying that it’s unlikely that he’ll be able to climb into the hammock with all that red wine in his system. Trevor tells Luke to protect his goods because Cole might be just as horny as Bea is after all that red wine. Luke whacks him on the head in reply, which is deserved. 

Honey goes into the house to find more blankets. She’s quick to realize that they never even ate the soup that Quinn made– but that’s fine with her. It looks like she’ll have lunch for a whole week. She vows never to bring it up, unless someone– probably Bea– remembers and whines about not getting to eat some of Quinn’s cooking.

She finds four blankets in her linen closet– one for Luke, Jack, Bea and Quinn, and Trevor. Honey tends to sleep better when she’s cold anyway, so she’ll be fine without one. She’s got a makeshift sweat-suit on anyway, with leggings underneath her sweatpants just in case. She’ll be fine. 

After making sure all of the doors and windows in her house are locked except for the back door, she makes her rounds with the blankets. Jack is already asleep, somehow, so she just drapes the blanket over his sleeping body and takes a moment to hope that he won’t fall out of the hammock overnight. Honestly, he’s the one that would.

Luke is next, who thanks her quietly. He even tells her that he appreciates that she’s hosting them tonight. He also mentions that he likes her house. Honey loves him like a little brother– he’s so sweet and he behaves so well, even as he’s grown more comfortable around her and Bea and come out of his shell. She can’t wait for Gillian’s granddaughter to arrive tomorrow– Luke’s date with the girl on Tuesday will be so cute. Maybe she and Bea can go spy on him– surely he’ll tell Quinn where they’re going. Even if he doesn’t, there are only so many places in Litchton that he could go. They’ll find him.

She’s hesitant to approach Bea and Quinn’s hammock. Although Honey isn’t religious, she’s positively praying that they’re asleep when she walks up.

They’re not. She can hear the sounds of them kissing as she approaches, cringing because she really doesn’t want to interrupt that. 

“Hey,” she hisses, stopping about three feet from their hammock.

Quinn pops his head up, finding her immediately. 

Honey holds up the blanket.

His mouth forms an ‘O,’ then he looks down at Bea. “Do you want a blanket?” He asks.

Bea sits up as best she can, looking at Honey. “You can just drop it there,” she instructs. “Quinn’ll come get it in a second. His hands are a little busy right now.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” Honey replies, tossing the blanket to the base of the tree next to their hammock. “Have a good night!”

“Just trying to cross something off my Rice Purity Test,” Bea calls after Honey, laughing when Honey raises her hand and flips Bea off. 

Only one blanket remains and it belongs to Trevor. Honey approaches his hammock with a few butterflies in her stomach, just at the thought of seeing her boy while he’s all sleepy and drunk. It’s not the first time she’s seen Trevor like that, but he’s so affectionate when he’s drunk– it makes her feel really special, every single time.

“Trevor,” Honey whispers when she’s just an arm’s length away from the hammock. She reaches out and touches it.

The hammock rustles and nearly flips as she startles him. “Christ, baby,” Trevor replies, sounding louder than he actually is in the darkness. His hammock is farther away from the other boys, at the final pair of trees that are close enough to create a good space for a hammock. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I brought you a blanket.” Honey holds it out for him. 

Trevor takes it, his hand brushing Honey’s. “Thank you. Did you already get everyone else?”

Honey shows him her empty hands. “Yeah.”

“You wanna sleep with me?” Trevor asks. “Bea and Quinn are.”

Honey chuckles under her breath. “They’re boyfriend-girlfriend, Trevor. Also, our relationship is a secret. I can’t be crawling into your hammock and cuddling all night. It would be so weird.”

Trevor pouts. “Everyone is too drunk to care, Hon. They probably won’t even notice.”

“Nice try, but no. I’ll see you in the morning. Stay warm.” Honey touches his hair, fluffing the ends for a moment before she goes off to find her own hammock.

She climbs into the broken-in fabric between her two usual trees. Bea is pretty close by, so she can hear her best friend and Quinn murmuring about something, although she can’t hear what. Luckily, it doesn’t sound like anything dirty is happening anymore, so Honey can sleep peacefully.

So she thought. Perhaps it was the wine that she drank, or the copious amounts of steak and ham that sit like an anvil in her stomach. Regardless, Honey lays in her hammock, waiting for her eyelids to grow heavy. They never do.

She left her phone inside, next to her bed, so she can’t even scroll aimlessly. Not that she’d want to do that necessarily, but she downloaded the Kindle app and hacked into her old account, so she’s been rereading the books she bought years ago and mostly forgot about. It would be nice to read something while she waits to fall asleep, but it’s so dark outside that there’s no hope of being able to see the words in a physical book. She could go inside, but that defeats the whole purpose of getting out of the dog house.

She turns over and tries to sleep for a few more minutes. It feels like forever. 

Honey tries her hand at echolocation, trying to figure out which of the boys are snoring in the distance. She eventually decides that the snores that are closer to her are Luke’s, while the ones that are father away are Jack’s. Then, she takes a few minutes to listen out and see if Quinn snores too. He must not, because she can’t hear anything coming from the joint hammock belonging to Bea and Quinn.

She turns onto her back and stares at the stars. She was better at identifying constellations than Luke, Cole, Jack, and Bea. Quinn actually had a knack for identifying the connections between the stars, just based off of Trevor’s words. It’s a shame they’ve never been close friends– Bea and Honey think that they have a lot more in common than they think, although their main difference (that Trevor likes to talk and Quinn does not) keeps them apart.

Honey is so tired, but unable to sleep, that she could cry. She’s so frustrated that she wants to scream.

And she’s getting cold. She thought she would fall asleep before the chill really set in, but here she is. Frustrated, brisk, and tired.

Honey rolls out of her hammock, getting her feet on the ground and standing up. She pulls her long sleeves down, covering her hands and rolling up the ends in her fists to keep the warmth inside.

She creeps over to the hammock that’s farther away from the rest. She touches Trevor’s hammock, trying to keep it stable as she shakes him awake. She feels bad waking him, especially since he looks so cozy and like a sound sleeper.

“Trevor,” Honey whispers, tapping his cheek. 

“Mm,” Trevor grunts, turning his head away from her. He’s still mostly asleep– probably a solid 90/10 asleep-or-awake split. “No, Jack. Go ‘way.”

Honey releases a quick breath from her nose, unwilling to laugh aloud at his slurred, sleepy speech. “Trevor, wake up. I don’t want to knock you out of the hammock by accident.” Like a child, she lifts one of his eyelids.

That succeeds in waking him, if only partially. Just enough that he understands where he is and who’s talking to him.

“What, baby?” Trevor slurs, reaching a hand up and rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“I changed my mind,” Honey says. “Can I sleep with you?”

“C’mon in, gorgeous,” Trevor invites, spreading an arm out so that Honey can climb in and snuggle up to him.

Honey smiles a bit at being called ‘gorgeous’ in her terrible groutfit, especially in the middle of the night after tossing and turning for… hours? 

She finds her way into the cot without tipping them over. She’ll have to wake up at first light, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. She’s a restless sleeper. She usually wakes up early anyway– likely before any of the other guys would. Definitely before Bea would. It’s a recurring problem.

Trevor smells nice and more importantly, he’s warm. His chest is strong under her hand, and Honey uses his bicep like a pillow. She intertwines their legs and presses a kiss to his side, tickling him. Honey’s already so much closer to falling asleep with Trevor than when she was alone. 

“Thanks,” Honey murmurs, burying her face into Trevor’s shirt. 

“You couldn’t sleep?” Trevor asks.

“Mm-mm,” Honey replies, her face still hidden against his body. She shakes her head ‘no’ and throws an arm over his stomach instead of resting it on his chest. She pulls him closer and Trevor chuckles, shaking her.

“Well, sleep tight, baby,” Trevor says. 

Honey doesn’t reply. He’s like a furnace next to her, pushing her closer to dream-land with every passing second. She just cuddles up next to him and breathes as evenly as she can.

A few minutes later, Trevor interrupts her near-slumber with a quiet question.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Honey says.

“After the fruit stand, do you want to get dinner?” Trevor asks.

Honey feels her head sag for a second with sleep, coming back to herself after a brief falling sensation. “Mm, ‘kay,” she agrees with a one-shouldered shrug. “I want pizza.”

“Okay, baby,” Trevor says with another laugh, shaking her. Honey whines, tugging his shirt until he stops laughing. “We’ll go get pizza.”

“Good.” Honey feels Trevor kiss her forehead, then face the sky again. She tells him, “Go to bed. I’m sleepy.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Trevor teases. “Don’t drool on me in your sleep.”

“You would be so lucky.”

It doesn’t take long for them to fall asleep after that. Honey feels just one more kiss on her forehead from Trevor. She has only good dreams.

note: I love HoneyTrev. I love Beaquinn. I hope you all loved this chapter too. Now I am moving onto 13 or so oneshots that I am determined to write before I even THINK about Chapter 9 of STG (but let's be real– I like HoneyTrev and Beaquinn too much to ignore them. They're always on my mind.)

ok love you guys, as always, pls hit me up with your feedback and thoughts on this chapter!! i love to talk about stg and it makes me feel really happy when you all give me something to talk about– otherwise i feel like i'm posting this for The Void and that's no fun. ok. bonsoir.

[geminiwritten]

About the anyone but you Australia rant: I would like to see it 👀

WAIT YOU DO??! omg, okay, buckle up, this is going to be a ride.

i'd like to start with a disclaimer stating that i know films use hollywood fiction or hollywood logic where a lot of what happens is might be unrealistic and / or inaccurate but is just for cinematic value... that being said...

DID THEY CONSULT A SINGLE AUSTRALIAN IN THE MAKING OF THIS FILM???

see under the cut for a full, and very petty, rant

like, firstly, why is it set in australia? did this further the plot? no. but anyway, okay, sure, we're in australia... but the film / plot does not hinge on australian-ism so why did you feel the need to inaccurately emphasise the australian-ism when it was SO NOT NEEDED???

i say 'australian-ism' because i feel like saying "australian culture" carries too much weight (not that we have that much culture, per say), while what was portrayed about australia was about as deep as a kiddie pool in a drought.

it was literally like someone who has only ever heard of australia by watching crocodile dundee wrote the script...

WE DO NOT TALK LIKE THAT. yes, i know charlee fraser, joe davidson, and that blond dude are australian but i do not know how they said half of those lines without cringing. "had a bit of a go way back when"??? "how do you two dags know each other"??? "rippa c*nt"??? gobbler, hog bonnet, beef cap??? THE FUCK?!

i live here and have only ever seen koalas in zoos, so on a walking track that close to the city THAT LOW ON A TREE? no.

a huntsman (the spider) chillin on ben's butt? probably not. they run away from humans. but it's possible, so i'm not that mad.

THE ENTIRE SYDNEY HARBOUR BOAT SCENE, OKAY?! WHAT??? firstly, literal cruise ships dock there so it's definitely deep enough for the boat to go after them??? it's sydney harbour. secondly, harbour rescue would also be BOATS. i know the helicopter was for dramatics, but it literally just had me like fuck off???

WHY ARE THEY ON THE HARBOUR BRIDGE SO MUCH?! if i'm on the harbour bridge, i know for a goddamn fact that i'm lost. i'll drive across that bridge four times in bumper to bumper traffic and STILL not know where to go because sydney roads are horrendous but Y'ALL GET OFF THAT BRIDGE. (again, i know this was for movie aesthetics, 'ooh look, big bridge')

BEN JUMPING OFF THAT CLIFF??? i feel like this should be common sense, not australian-ism, but BOY THERE ARE ROCKS THERE. AND SHARKS. he would have died.

as above, his dead body would have been picked up by harbour rescue BOATS. not a helicopter.

bea hailing a taxi? nah, babe. you're more likely to get run over. call an uber or stand outside a pub until a security guard gets you a taxi. (again, better for cinema i know, i'm being picky)

AND WHILE WE'RE ON IT, BONDI TO THE OPERA HOUSE??? baby girl that's like a half hour trip if you're lucky. peak hour? you're looking at over an hour. also never in my life have i thought "i need some space. i'm going to go to an overcrowded tourist attraction"

ALSO why are the aussie people so nude??! like the chick on the beach and the dude showing glen his 'anteater'... we ARE still human down here. we don't go around flashing people???! i fucking swear.

but anyway, me and my friend will now consistently make jokes when we're in the city, dramatically being like "i just need to get away. i'm going to the opera house around the corner"

AND LISTEN, i know that most of my gripes are pretty picky. i'm sure that a lot of films set in u.s. cities are just as inaccurate. but my BIGGEST WTF is why australia??? it did not add anything to the plot except for some bad jokes and uncomfortable accents. also, why try to lean so hard into the aussie jokes when, again, no one asked???

i think the reason it all sticks out so much is because not a lot is set in australia, and if it is, it's generally an australian story... so it's not so forced

anywho. i'm mostly disappointed in this film because glen was giving it his all and he only had carboard cut outs to work with. no hate to the cast, i think some of them are great, there was just something so off... maybe it was australia. she didn't want to be in the film.

anywaysssss, this is just my opinion. i'm also SURE there is more things that made me mad, but i refuse to rewatch the film any time soon because (as you can tell), didn't love it. (although that's no hate whatsoever, i see it's appeal and i still love those actors)

[clay-cuttlefish]

Finally we've arrived at 52, the series that turned me from a casual reader of a few comics into a full-on DC fan and Question enthusiast. This is the reason I set out on this project in the first place. I love it so much.

#1

This is my fifth time reading this in full, I think, and I still get hyped at this opening issue. Look at my guys.

It's a miracle this came together as well as it did. The omnibus is great for giving some insight into that construction process.

#2

There's just so much in 52 and I can't believe they pulled it off. Part of that is that it's thematically coherent, despite how different the plots are. Grief, reinvention, self-destruction as a means to cope with loss... it all feeds into itself.

In a slightly different timeline I came out of 52 fixated on Booster Gold and stumbled back into the Question later through Blue Beetle, instead of the other way around.

It took 416 issues but they're interacting! They're together! It's paying off!

Renee's heartbreaking spiral into self-destruction is interrupted by this massive dork. I love them.

#3

I really need to read Steel. Captivated by these two.

Skeets nudging the gyro cart owner out of the way is a very good panel. Catlike behavior.

#4

Booster and Bea's conversation is so. Hhh.

In the omnibus, Mark Waid calls Vic and Renee's scene "one of the high points of the entire series", and I'm with him.

#5

Renee and Maggie...

The metahuman hospital's a really cool piece of worldbuilding.

The only plotline I don't care much about is the spaceguys. I still like them, but the bar's really high here and I want to see other characters more.

Wish this was less creepy about Starfire.

#6

Kind of obsessed with Bob the theatre teacher and villain-for-hire, conceptually.

It takes a while for the Black Adam plot to pick up steam so this part isn't quite hitting yet.

Booster having a normal one.

#7

Renee hasn't talked to her mom in three years by this point. Oof.

The exes of all time!

Booster... Ralph blaming him for Ted's death is brutal.

#8

Oh cmon girl you're smarter than this. It's Lex Luthor, when has he ever had anyone's best interests at heart.

At least Ollie's still doing his thing.

Clark hating Booster is so good.

#9

"Smart-ass." "Consistency is everything." He is so annoying!

The John and Natasha fight is great.

#10

Clark taking a page from Lois' book is so good. Ridiculous.

I like Will and Professor Morrow a lot, nice that they're back in focus.

Supernova time :)

#11

His anti-smoking rant...

"I don't owe you anything." Oof ouch my soul.

Big talk here from a guy who spent a decade hung up on Myra.

The one superheroine ass shot I respect is in the "that's a Batwoman" panel because Renee deserves to appreciate Kate's ass.

#12

Besties moment.

Black Adam's plotline is gaining speed.

Oh Ralph.

#13

Oh NO, Ralph.

#14

They both look so good here. Love his stubble.

Desperately want to hear Tot's side of their conversation, and also their previous phone calls, because I'm sure he'd have Opinions about Vic deciding to become a mentor.

Shaking him. You are so annoying!

"There's no such thing as crazy, just behaviour that society has deemed unacceptable." SO true bestie.

#15

BOOSTER...

#16

Oh god, Renee.

Billy officiating Black Adam's wedding is very sweet.

#17

Luthor's superteam is one of the series highlights.

Still very funny that there's just a guy named Hannibal on it. Zero subtlety here.

Oh Lobo. I do not care about you.

#18

He's so silly.

Renee is having truly awful time falling back into old coping measures and he's out here getting scooped and being made fun of for cockblocking.

Booster's shitty funeral still fucks me up. Choosing to believe Skeets intentionally didn't invite people for evil reasons because the idea nobody showed up is too much.

Once again, oh no Ralph.

#18/2

A backup with Vic's origins. It's about right, though I prefer him starting as the Question before moving back to Hub City.

It lists his "essential storylines" as Mysterious Suspense, The Question 1987, and Cry for Blood, which I mostly agree with. Mysterious Suspense is less important but reading a pre-DC story is useful background for the 87 run and it's his only solo option.

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

My pokemon hot takes (and an essay on ninjask getting done dirty)

Lopunny is for the girls and the gays and I’m tired of pretending its not

Me having a little crush on Mewtwo as a kid isn’t weird, what’s weird is that you DIDNT have a little crush on Mewtwo as a kid ok?

Swsh isn’t badly written you guys just completely ignore every non-required area and text box. You wouldn’t know environmental storytelling if it whacked you upside the head.

Paul was the best anime rival, no one stands up to him. His character arc was the best written, his battles had the highest stakes, and best of all he wasn’t fucking annoying!

Iris was the worst anime companion, by far. She did nothing but bully Ash the entire season despite being awful at her own chosen trainer path and it ruined it for me. Girl don’t sit around talking shit when you suck ass at everything!

Fairy should have been weak to bug. Fairy was introduced to be a balancing type by being weak to lesser used types and immune to the strongest type and then made bug WORSE? Fuck off. That makes no sense and it doesn’t even work that well in lore. It could go either way and make just as much sense.

Vanilluxe isn’t even ugly you guys are just haters for no reason AND I think it should get a really cool mega in Z-A based on a sundae and become extremely powerful and viable because FUCK YOU

The Machop line however IS ugly. You do not get to be mad about Incineroar or Meowscarada being too humanoid when that is literally just a man in his undies, and he’s not even cute. Machamp gets a half pass cause the extra arms make it less uncanny but the weird ring around the mouth needs to go, the shorts need to be better integrated into the design (I think gigantimax machamp does a good job of this by blending them down into the color of the legs) and the shinies of the entire line need to be literally any other color but puke green. Either make them all bright green like machamp or skip the green entirely and go dark red. Or a dark gray. Or blue!

Speaking of shinies, green shinies get too much hate. Espeon and teddiursa are cool. Meanwhile yellow shinies usually don’t look yellow at all they look chartreuse and sickly. Like Groudon! Groudon should have a goldenrod color not that abysmal eyesore.

Haxorous did NOT make the jump to 3D well. It just looks a little off and I can’t get over it.

And anyway here’s my regularly scheduled rant about some bullshit because I’m replaying Sword rn and tried to use more mobs I haven’t used before and came across some. Weird bullshit.

Did you know that in swsh ninjask doesn’t learn a single flying type move by level up once it evolves? What the fuck kind of decision was that???? give me SOMETHING I’m DYING OVER HERE.

It technically DOES get Aerial ace by level up but it’s one if those “level 1” moves that you have to get at the move reminder which I forgot was accessible from the start in this game. So I did a bunch of watt grinding yesterday to get a play rough TR for my Tsareena for my Bea fight for no reason and STILL nearly got swept?

And anyway why is that the only one it gets? Why is talking to an npc a requirement to get the ONLY flying move in this Pokémon’s level up moves. Why doesn’t it learn a flying type move upon evolving or in the levels directly after like any normal mon would upon gaining the flying type? It feels really weird and unnecessary. Just swap out the agility level up move for aerial ace, this mon has speed boost it doesn’t need agility.

And then in TM moves it only gets aerial ace (which it already has anyway) air slash (special aka useless on this mom) and acrobatics, Those are its only flying moves which is its better offensive typing! It learns DIG but not fly, peck, wing attack, or pluck?

And in BDSP it’s tm moves get kneecapped! It LOOSES acrobatics and air slash! WHY???? FOR WHAT REASON??? Like sure, it has ROOST and DEFOG now but those DONT DO DAMAGE????

It would have been better for the tms to be roost and acrobatics in the first place. Those are actually useful. But it doesn’t ever get both in gen 8. I could build a seriously annoying ninjask with a focus sash/a berry, roost, acrobatics, leech life, and aerial ace. Pop the sash or berry so acrobatics is increased, aerial ace never misses, leech life and roost heal me. Leech life alone makes it much less of a glass cannon, could you imagine if it got ALL of these moves at once? We were robbed. You can’t give us improved leech life and then not let us build the most annoying asshole bug ever!

And most of its sound based moves are relegated to tm only which is weird considering it’s a CICADA, the bug primarily known for being LOUD. Like they aren’t useful cause they’ve special moves but it should get bug buzz by level up at least. Having screech be its only sound based level up move is just a weird choice, lore wise.

Also its other level up moves are trash. Mind reader is made completely redundant by aerial ace, and doesn’t even make much sense lore wise, it gets like maybe 6 moves between evolving and its last move which ends up being one move every 10 levels or so which is mid at best, and its best bug stab is learned at level 64… or tm which you’ll almost always be doing instead.

Mind reader should be replaced by bug buzz, and there should be another move at around 38-40 that should probably be a coverage move like shadow claw or night slash. It has precedent for learning grass moves too so leaf blade is an option as well though it’s a little bit more powerful so I’d swap its placement with Slash at lv. 50

Anyway quit kneecapping otherwise usable pokemon with nonsensical movesets.

Anyway rant over. Justice for ninjask. Justice for bug types in general.

[yeetlegay]

I’M SO EXCITED FOR RWRB! I love you for pointing out how many awesome scenes they kept from the book because I absolutely agree. I was worried for a bit because I’ve read the book about 6-7 times and so everything that’s in there is kind of holy to me. I didn’t know how much they would change, but most of the scenes that were in the trailer are from the book! Oh God, their first kiss, it looks so much better than I thought it would. Even better than what I had in my mind while reading it. And I was so relieved that they kept LA (a.k.a. the karaoke bar and their first time) in there, even though for some reason they traded the Prince Buttercup kimono for cowboy attire? And the polo scene is still in there, pfff. 😂 Oh, how I hope they’ll also keep in Paris. And I agree with what you said in the tags, I’m dying to see the Great Turkey Calamity. 👀

To be honest, I’m a little scared I’m so obsessed with the book that I’ll never give the movie a real chance. Especially because one of my favorite things about it is its voice and narration that’s both super on-point and incredibly thoughtful, and that’s something you can’t translate to a screen. I also worry that once I’ve seen the movie, I can never go back to the images I had in my mind when I read the book. Does that make sense?

I know they’ll have to cut down on a lot of the smaller things that add depth to the characters (people like Alex’ dad, Raphael Luna, June, Nora and Bea are most definitely going to suffer from this) simply because of time constraints, and the depth of all the characters, no matter how minor their role, has always been something I loved about the book (about your fics too, by the way). But so far I’m really happy with what they’ve done. And the chemistry seems to be really good too! I’m glad this is going to be my brief return to the world of Western media for the summer.

Anyway, sorry for the rant (I don’t really know anyone I could rant to about it, and I have so many thoughts I need to get rid of some of them) and now I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing before this!

That makes total sense anon! Adaptations are always hard bc they can never match up to everyone’s expectations, but personally I think it helps to think of them as separately as you can. Adaptations will differ from their source material for countless reasons, good and bad, but at the end of the day they’re almost always made with love. Someone (a lot of someone’s actually: the director, screenwriter, cast, crew, etc) is sharing their vision of the story, and I think that’s just a really cool thing to share even if it’s not what you envisioned. I like adaptations (generally speaking) for the same reason I like fanfiction: it’s connecting with strangers over a story you both care about, exploring someone else’s interpretation of characters and themes, allowing a story to expand in your mind.

So anyway, point being: don’t worry! Whether or not the adaptation lives up to what you imagined while reading, the book is unchanged and your vision is still there. 💖

[indie-rogers]

oh my god (rant incoming)

SO, recently, the suburb complex I live in held a viewing of a movie called IF, it's a lighthearted child-friendly movie about imaginary friends. It's a very good movie and I highly recommend it. Be warned that there are spoilers beneath the cut.

Me and my family went to go see it, and I got there about 20 minutes late--missing the opening of the movie--since I wasn't particularly interested in seeing it at the time. By the time I sat down and started watching I was hooked.

I watched the whole thing without looking at my phone, and while there were some distractions (we were outdoors and there were kids running around) I generally paid attention and absorbed the story as much as I could

When we got home, I had to explain in detail key plot points of the movie to my stepmother, who apparently hadn't paid attention to several parts in the film. She asked the most basic questions that were either a.) answered by the film directly or b.) had very easy-to-read implications/metaphors

The IFs (abbreviation for Imaginary Friends that the film uses) are forgotten by their child when they grow up, and they're very obviously a narrative metaphor for childhood innocence/nostalgia.

While I wouldn't say any specific IF is any more important than another, there are two that the film focuses heavily on; Blossom, a 30's-cartoon-inspired ballerina, and Blue, a huge purple monster.

Blossom is revealed to be the lead character's grandmother (who used to be a dancer)'s IF from when she was a child. Blossom knew the whole time and didn't say anything because she thought it was obvious. When this gets revealed, Bea stages a plan to make her grandmother remember Blossom.

When an IF gets remembered, they start to glow a warm red-orange color, and their child can see them again. This culminates in a beautiful scene where the grandmother dances with Blossom following along in the background, you can tell that she associates dancing with Blossom so closely that she doesn't even need to see her to remember.

Even though she consciously associates lots of other things to dancing (meeting mc's grandfather, how much she enjoyed it, why she quit, etc.), she unconsciously associated dancing with Blossom, and quit after forgetting her (read: losing childhood innocence).

My stepmother did not understand this at all and found it very narratively unsatisfying that the Grandmother never saw Blossom directly even though that was arguably the whole point.

Blue is a huge, fluffy, clumsy monster, who was traumatized by his child forgetting him (as are most IFs, even if they don't show it). While he's clearly designed to sell oversized plushes and be the main marketing appeal, he's still an interesting character who plays into the "childhood innocence" metaphor really well.

At the start of the film, the IFs are trying to find new children to take them in, but it doesn't work. They've apparently been trying for a long time, but for some reason they can't find any child who can see them.

This is because the IFs pretty directly represent childhood; you can't just "give" a person someone else's childhood--it just doesn't work that way. That's kinda the whole point of the story, actually. Yet my stepmother did not grasp this at all.

Media comprehension--and just paying attention in general--is IMPORTANT! or else you miss the most obvious shit!!

the problem isn't just that media literacy is slowly becoming a dying art. it's that people straight up do not pay attention when they watch tv/film anymore.

[dearjamesxo]

[drabble under cut]

Billy stands there, bear-chested and gorgeous, illuminated by streaks of midday sun streaming in from the windows above. His posture is rigid, on the defense before Leo has even had a chance to state why he's here.

After four months abroad, visiting his cousin, Alexander, Leo imagined his homecoming would be more than the cold, empty reception he received. If it wasn't for Spike taking it upon himself to retrieve Leo, Leo would still be wondering if something happened to Billy while he was away.

As it turns out, no, Billy is fine, all in one piece, he just didn't feel the need to let Leo know he's no longer interested in doing...whatever it was they were doing before Leo left. Leo refuses to label it as anything significant now that it's been made clear that it only ran deep on one side.

Jessie, face pained in sympathy, glances between them as Leo and Billy stand off, the silence thickening into a suffocating cloud that congests the room. From behind him, Spike squeezes Leo's shoulder. Leo feels his presence retreat, hears him clop up the stairs, narrowly followed by Jessie after she tries to offer Leo a sympathetic smile. The door creaks, a rush of sound from the street, creaks again, and Billy and Leo are alone.

Bea isn't around. In Colchester with Watson gathering witness statements, Spike mentioned on the trek back to the cellar. Well, that's what Leo was able to parse, anyway; Spike's cheeks were stuffed with confections Louise had a scullery maid assemble for him in a basket.

Their friendship might baffle many, but it makes complete sense to Leo.

Unlike Billy, who hasn't moved an inch or spoken a word since he rolled to his feet upon Leo's arrival. Leo can’t discern Billy’s expression, resting between aggressive and ashamed, as if he’s aware he’s done something awful but won’t apologize for it. And he has, he’s ripped open Leo’s chest and filled the cavity with so much bitterness and betrayal that Leo’s scarcely been able to draw a satisfying breath since he again set foot on British soil.

Leo desperately wants to hate Billy, wants to lash out and make Billy hurt as much as he’s hurting. But he can’t. Could never. Because he cares too deeply for the young man standing across from him that to hurt Billy would be to damage himself irreparably.

“Why?” Leo croaks when the silence becomes too much.

“Why what?” Billy says, fists clenching at his sides.

The harshness of his tone burns.

“You haven’t come to see me since I came back…” Leo looks away, can’t bear to watch Billy hate him for a reason Leo hasn’t been given. “I thought—”

“What? That I’d wait for you, just sit on a shelf doing nothing while you gallivant across Russia with your girlfriend?”

Leo’s head snaps up. “What are you talking about?”

Billy takes a step forward, eye blazing, ready for a fight, “I heard your Princess—” He spits the word, “Joined you on your holiday. That you n’ her were seen looking,” Here he uses his fingers to quote, “Madly in love. The perfect bloody pair, ay?”

“Where did you hear that?” Leo wonders, brows sinking in the middle.

“Who cares? It’s true, innit?”

Yes and no, Leo doesn’t say. Though not at all in love – at least to a degree that matters – he and Helena are remarkable at presenting themselves as the epitome of a love match. A fact Billy probably won’t appreciate hearing. Especially since he isn’t wrong that Helena was in St Petersburg, even if it was at the behest of Leo’s mother. The Queen believed it would do well for their public image that they be seen together. Again, a fact that Billy would bite his thumb at.

“Billy,” Leo’s voice shakes, afraid that what he has to say will be taken poorly, “You knew before that Helena and I have a duty we must fulfill. Together.” For a second, Billy looks thoughtful, eyes downcast and stance softening, “You said you didn’t care.” In an effort not to appear too affected, Leo straightens his back and juts his chin out, “If you’ve changed your mind, I think I deserve to be told. Not treated as a stranger to who you owe no explanation.”

Billy huffs, licks his lips and watches the ground as he crosses the room to his bed.

Leo trails him with his gaze, refrains from ranting as he wants to at Billy’s back. A back that Leo’s mapped the texture of with his lips and tongue, has seen bowed and arched in rapture, has felt the strength of under his palms as Billy rocked into him like the tide.

He missed Billy deliriously while he was gone, thought of little else to the point where Helena offered to rent him a strapping, blond man to use to work it out of his system. Leo didn’t, would never, but he did bring into his bed one of the toys Helena hid amongst her things, and fucked himself silly on it until he was able to do more than sulk over Billy’s absence.

Something in his expression must reveal where his thoughts traveled because when he refocuses, Billy’s features are slack and heated.

“Fuck.” Billy throws his hands up, rakes his fingers through his hair then scrubs over his face. He drops his arms and hits Leo with a fiery stare. “Just,” He growls, paces toward Leo, halfway back to his bed, toward Leo again to grab Leo by the shoulders and look him in the eye, “Did you fuck her?”

Leo’s hands fly up to frame Billy’s face, his gaze flickering between Billy’s eyes. He says firmly, “No. And I won’t, Billy, not until I have to, you know that.”

Billy’s voice is soft and defeated when he utters, “Do I?” He drops his forehead against Leo’s, runs his hands up to clutch Leo’s jaw and pull Leo into a quick, chaste kiss. “Jesus,” He whispers hoarsely, biting at Leo’s mouth, sweeping his tongue over the sting. “Do I know that, Leo?” A shuddering exhale and then he says, “How do I know you aren’t lying to keep me around?”

Billy continues nipping and soothing, chasing kisses as if he can’t help himself, wasted enough energy trying to resist tasting Leo as much as Leo wants to be devoured after so many weeks apart.

Putting a staying hand to Billy’s chest, Leo leans back to tell Billy very honestly, “You know me, you know I would never do that to you, to anyone.” Leo squeezes his eyes shut before he confesses, “I’m in love with you, William Marlott,” Billy gasps and his body sways into Leo’s. He captures Leo’s mouth in a dizzying performance of tongue and teeth. When they part for air, Leo quirks the tiniest smile, “You enormous bellend.”

In an arousing display of strength, Billy hooks his hands under Leo’s thighs and lifts, forcing Leo to wind his legs around Billy’s trim waist and his arms around Billy’s shoulders. Billy reaches up to give Leo a wet kiss and then turns on his heel, carrying Leo to his bed where he deposits Leo nonchalantly. Billy climbs after Leo, crawls up Leo’s body before insinuating himself between Leo’s legs, arms bracketing Leo’s head. Their noses bump, lips meet, and, at last, Billy quells the last of Leo’s doubt by saying, “I missed you so much, darling.”

Billy spends the next hour earning Leo’s forgiveness.

[blazedgraysons]

You're No Good - Ch. 2

C.J. Bennett is an overly ambitious student who dreams of shadowing her favorite author, Eli Jennings. The only thing standing in her way: Grayson Dolan.

warnings: this is a rough draft of a series i never finished. i'm posting the finished chapters before leaving this account. 🤍

part 1

If American Lit 1102 was C.J.’s personal hell, her job could at least be considered her own reprieve.

Sunnyside Vintage is an old shop off of Sunset, having been open for the last 30 years. It wasn’t the nicest of thrift stores — the clothes always have a weird mothball smell and everything is old - and not in the trendy way.  C.J. loves it. The windows are huge, letting California sunlight wash the stucco walls gold, and the mannequins are always dressed straight out of the 70’s. The pay isn’t always great, but C.J. is allowed to take whatever she wants more than makes up for it in her eyes.

“I just don’t understand. I mean, Stevens has praised me this entire semester. She even told me personally he’s never had a student write as well as me nor pick up on the work as fast as I have. Wouldn’t that be qualities you’d want in an intern, Bea? Even Grayson Dolan would’ve been a better pick.” C.J. turns to her boss, angrily folding flared jeans.

Another reason C.J. loves Sunnyside —  her boss, Beatrice “Bea” Walker. Once a glitzy soap star of the ’50’s, she retired with her husband and opened Sunnyside in the late 80’s. Despite being in her late-70s, she still holds on to the same glamour and charm that made her a household name a century prior.

“Maybe there was another reason. It could be something other then your application.” She croaks, lifting a pumpkin to place next to a costumed mannequin. As halloween rapidly approaches, the store was starting to transform to fit the fall season — hoping to draw in customers to purchase unique costumes for the holiday.

Before she can move to help Bea, the doors chime, signaling an entrance. Walking through with seemingly-glowing skin and a symphonic smile was Alexi, C.J.’s best friend and roommate. It’s hard to miss Alexi whenever she walks into a room — from her bleached-blue hair to eclectic style, she’s never been afraid to follow her own path, something C.J. has always admired. She walks straight to C.J., wrapping her in a loving embrace

“Are you okay? James told me what happened.” Alexi leaves an arm around her, and while C.J. knows it’s supposed to be comforting; all she can think about is how much she wants Alexi to leave. It’s one thing to rant to her elderly boss, someone who would love her in spite of her shortcomings and faults. But to know her own friend group has already heard about her misfortune, sending over someone to comfort and soothe, it was all just a little too pitiful for her to handle.

“Theta’s are throwing a party tonight. It’ll be the perfect pick-me-up, and you can forget all about Evans Jensen-“

“Eli Jennings” C.J. corrects.

“Whoever” Alexi rolls her eyes at the interruption, “is missing out on your incredible talent because of an idiotic professor’s incompetence. Everyone’s going and it won’t be the same without you, C.”

“As much as I would love that, Lex, I really just want to be alone tonight. Shitty beer, cheap Indian food, a sad movie so I don’t have to think about how these past four years have been a waste.”

“Not a waste, first of all. Look, I know that you’ve had this whole plan for your life since you popped out the womb, but shit happens, things change. This isn’t a failure, just think of it as a temporary setback. Plus, when life gives you lemons, you…” She trails off, waiting for C.J. to finish.

“Make lemonade?” She sighs.

“Use it to chase tequila.” Alexi giggles.

“I would go, but I have to close. Right, Bea?"

"Don't use me as an excuse. You should go, maybe find a boy to take home." Alexi makes a face at Beatrice's statement and C.J.'s face heats up.

“You’re going - no more buts. Wear something cute. Something that maybe doesn’t make if look like you were alive for Vietnam.” Alexi’s already leaving, kissing Beatrice lightly on the cheek on her way out.

This was how C.J. found herself standing outside the Theta Lambda  frat house, October air chilling her through her jacket. She shifts her weight between her feet, surveying the small group around her. Alexi talks animatedly on the phone, asking for whoever to meet them out front.

A random person bumps into her, forcing her to spill the contents of her purse onto the dewey grass. C.J. groans, bending down to pick everything up while mentally thinking to herself all of the other things she could be doing right now.

A pair of dirty air forces steps in front of C.J. and she slowly looks up at the girl standing in front of her. She’s pretty, stunning actually. C.J. recognizes her immediately. Channing Williams - social chair of Rho Xi sorority and the key to all the best parties on campus. Dressed in a black romper and red velvet jacket, she’s everything C.J. isn’t and a quiet twinge of jealousy plucks her heart. ‘I bet she’s never lost out on an internship.’ she thinks bitterly.

“Sorry, do you know anyone?”  Channing asks, voice soft and sweet with a clipboard in hand. C.J. looks at Alexi, waiting to hear her answer.

“Not really? I mean we know people, but we aren’t going to be on your clipboard or anything so if you could just let us slide through, I’m sure there’s someone here who could like vouch for us or something?” C.J. wants to slap her — not only did she drag her out in below-freezing weather, but she couldn’t even guarantee them a way inside.

“Well this is a greek-only party so unless you know anyone….” Channing trails off, not openly wanting to kick them out in front of so many people.

“That means no GDI’s.” C.J. didn’t even notice the miniature-sized freshman standing besides Channing. She clearly looks annoyed at the intrusion, keeping her from inside where everyone else is to deal with their little group. C.J. briefly wonders if the upturned stare is a requirement for Rho Xi or if that’s was just especially reserved for her.

“Geed’s?” Alexi repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Goddamn independents. Y’know, not greek-affiliated.” At this point, C.J. is ready to call the whole night and retire in her bed when she see’s someone appear in between Channing.

“They’re cool, Chan. They’re with me.” Micayla Zhao enters, covered in glitter, sweat and what C.J. is almost sure to be a line of salt from a body shot. C.J. has always considered Micayla the only cool Rho Xi, having had multiple classes with her over the years. Micayla fit right in with their group: smart, beautiful and a wicked sense of humor.

Channing nods, seeming bored and just wanting to get back inside with everyone else. She does a quick finger tap with Micayla (sacred Rho Xi bullshit is what Alexi always calls it) and moving along the line.

“Are your sisters always that charming?” Micayla rolls her eyes, grabbing C.J. to move them through the house to the backyard. A huge bonfire is set up in the middle with a canopy near by for the designated drinking spot. She watches as Micayla confidently moves through the crowd, stopping from time to time to say hey to friends and classmates on the way.

“Most of the time. Look, they’re just possessive over tradition and the Rho-Theta party has always been major exclusive, Channing’s been fighting to make it open to outsiders.” Micayla yells over the thumping bass.

“Yeah, I’m sure they love all the GDI’s.”  C.J. exaggerates her voice, pinching her nose to capture the nasally, valley accent Channing is almost famous for. Micayla stops, and had C.J. not been paying attention, she would’ve ran into her.

“Dude, you’re kind of being a bitch right now. Look, I get your bummed about your internship, but Channing wouldn't have let you in if she didn't want to. Would you rather be getting drunk, in your apartment alone?”

“Yeah, actually.” Micayla stares at C.J. for a second, looking like she’s about to bitch her out. As if Alexi can sense the fight forming, she grabs Micayla by the arm.

“Let’s go get a drink, you look like you need a drink in you.” They both walk towards the house, Alexi mouthing ‘Be Nice’ over her shoulder before disappearing completely. C.J. exhales, counting to 3 in her head before walking over to where drinks are set up.She fills up her solo cup, watching as the fizzy liquid moves closer and closer to the top.  Before she can take a sip, someone bumps into her spilling half the drink over the side.

“Hey, watch it!” A thick Jersey accent exclaims, and C.J. groans, wondering if this night could get any worse.

“Bennett?”

Grayson appears in front of her, denim jacket over a black t-shirt and black jeans. She takes note of the dark spot growing on the front of his shirt, from where she spilt her drink.

“What’re you doing here?”

She simply shrugs, refilling the missing contents of her cup.“I didn’t know parties were your scene. I always imagined in your free time you’re in like a dark room, crying alone to Sylvia Plath novels.”

“Nice to know you think of me out of class, Grayson” C.J. takes a sip of her beer. She moves to walk away, hoping he would take it as an end of conversation.

"How'd you get in? Isn't this like Rho's only?" He asks, following her to the edge of the bonfire. She looks at him, watching as the light frames the features of his face.

"Couldn't I say the same about you? You're not a Theta." He just stares at her intensely until she relents, "Micayla Zhao got me in. Y'know her?"

"We had history together sophomore year. She helped me cheat on the midterms."

C.J. laughs shortly. "Sounds like her."

Grayson opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off.

“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Grayson, don’t you have someone else to bother? Someone who, y’know, actually likes you?” If that comment bothered him, he didn’t show it, continuing talking to her as if they haven’t pissed each other off continuously for the past four years.

“What do you think about Michael Eichler getting the internship spot?”  He asks. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t get the spot, now she has to sit and rub salt in the wound with her worst enemy.

“What’s there to think about? He got it, I didn’t. Fucking sucks.” He laughs, holding up his own drink.

“Cheers to that.” They both clink cups, and C.J. briefly wonders if the universe is still laughing at her.

"You know, that spot should've gone to one of us." He muses, watching the partygoers continue to stumble around them. He doesn't say anything after that, and she bites.

"Why should it have gone to one of us?"

"Well, think about it. We're both the top of our class, and I know for a fact Stevens has submitted your writing to collegiate magazines. There's no fucking way Michael fucking Eichler should've got that spot over one of us." C.J. pauses. She had known that Stevens appreciated her writing, but not enough to submit it anywhere. If what Grayson was saying was true, why hadn't she gotten the apprenticeship?

"Nothing I can really do about it now. He got the spot, I didn't. I guess I can become a second rate author now." She takes another sip, and Grayson snorts unattractively.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, Bennett. If Stevens like you, I'm sure there's another author dumb enough to want to publish your work too." She glares at him.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"As if you actually would've wanted to become friends with me."

"Oh yeah, that's what I do in between my Sylvia Plath crying sessions. Desperately wish that Grayson Dolan would become my best friend." Sarcasm drips off every word and he looks at her before taking another long sip of his drink.

“You know you’re actually kinda cool, Bennett. When you’re not trying to bite my head off in the middle of lecture”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such shitty takes, I wouldn’t want too.” Whatever retort Grayson was planning falls from his lips when Channing appears by his side, tucking herself underneath his arm.

"Hey, Gray. I got you another drink." Two Coronas hang from her manicured hand, and he whispers inaudibly to her, giggling between the two of them. C.J. begins to feel awkward, and coughs uncomfortably.

“Oh, you’re the GDI from earlier,” Channing looks up at her half-lidded, dark eyelashes framing red-tinged brown eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Channing shifts her weight, biting her lip and feeling like an intruder. "I didn't know you two knew each other?" C.J. supplies, feeling desperate for conversation

"Gray and I had math together freshman year, "They both stare at each other awkwardly, silent tension as they wait for the other to speak.

“So, I’m gonna go." She speaks.

“No, you don’t have to." Channing is already turned back to Grayson, looking like she wouldn't mind C.J.'s exit.

“No it’s fine” Neither Grayson nor Channing seem to protest anymore, and C.J. turns back to see her friends looking at her, both amused and curious at her interaction with the duo. She begins to walk towards them, feet and heart sinking with every step, not feeling any better about her current predicament.

“Hey Bennett,” She turns around to face Grayson. “Think about what I said. About the internship stuff” She just nods, and leaves the pair. The moment she reaches her initial group, Alexi pulls her towards them.

“You and Dolan were just talking and it didn't end in a screaming match. That’s new. What did he want?”

“Nothing. Just typical Grayson Dolan bullshit."Alexi looks like she doesn't believe her, and frankly C.J. doesn't believe herself. She thinks back to what Grayson said, about how they were the only real competition for the apprenticeship. Whatever he meant by that could be handled tomorrow.

"C’mon. Didn’t  you say something earlier today about tequila shots?” She asks

“Atta, girl. That’s what I’m talking about.” She lets Alexi drag her away, sparing one last look at Grayson before entering the fraternity house.

[mindle-ss-moths]

Wilbur L'ambur Sheep update reports

—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_

Mindy— Hey, you remember this part from the Techno update?

*a tape begins to play*

"No one is allowed to bring food into the green rooms unless it is a staff bot, Wilbur will still be giving out pizza, but it is required that the pizza is eaten only in the green room."

*the tape stops playing*

Biscuit— Yeah, I remember, don't tell me we're reporting and fixing that asshole today

Mindy— Oh come on he's not that bad, just the poor outfit they put him in is bad..

Biscuit— Yeah it is! It's stained, ripped, shredded, moldy, basically everything that could ruin his jacket! And they still won't let us replace it!

Mindy— Hey.. calm down we still have our system to change it every day

Biscuit— I know about the system but what if one day he realizes it's not 'spirit week' or whatever he's not going to let us change his outfit and the kids will get sick! I can't believe the one fitness, fashion, and food animatronic is the only one who looks like he knows jack shit about those main topics!

Mindy— Hey, It's not our fault Faz fucks doesn't know how fashion works, now, can we please just go into the report?

Biscuit— Sure.. now what do you have written down for today?

Mindy— Ahem, It is also noticed to not take anything from Wilbur's green room without it being given to you by Wilbur, child was impressed by the clothes and makeup they did not think to ask before trying on one of the coats, Wilbur got angry and picked up the child by the back of their shirt and ripped the coat off of them, several marks along the neck and arms and a dislocated shoulder.

Biscuit— His items are very very important. Friend, only being a kid during the day can sometimes play with Tommy when the other boy is willing. He never understands Toms fear of the animatronic, so never asks. Unfortunately, Friend saw this act and is probably kinda traumatized

Mindy— Who the hell is Friend and Tom?

Biscuit— Oh! Sometimes when I'm over at this pizzaplex I take care of the kids in the daycare! One of them was named Tommy and the other one wouldn't give me his actual name and just said Tommy's friend and or just Friend. So that's what I call them now, for some reason they're both here everyday so we've gotten close! We're like best buddies now!

Mindy— ...Your not replacing me with an actual child are you?!

Biscuit— No no! Of course not! Your still my best friend, I just now also have best buddies!

Mindy— Okay.. uh- anyways let's continue..

Mindy— Oh hey it's a quote from the sales department! 'Wilbur does what he does best to get his point across! Bite and eat. And no! Definitely no managers or higher ups that disagreed were found mangled up in the pizza sauce making vat! Not at all! At least Wilbur got some yummier pizza!'

Mindy— Oh hey! That sounds like some of those Matpat theories or the Fazbear Frights books! That's cool!

Biscuit— Wow your into those things? I thought Fazbear banned them from existence in the company!

Mindy— Well my house isn't apart of their company, is it?

Biscuit— No but still-

Mindy— Besides! It doesn't hurt to watch some weird little man rant about his conspiracy theories about this place, and that Scott guy's 'offical stories' and games are kinda fun and cute!

Biscuit— Mindy.. Scott used to be a former higher up employee that was laid off for leaking company secrets, if anyone knows anything about Fazbear Entertainment, it's him so most of those stories at least have some truth, like that the old XD killer and Kristen used to be friends and created the first Fazbear pizza place.

Mindy— Wait- why did you only say Fazbear's? I thought their first was Fred bea-

Biscuit— Yes it was but if they hear us talking about that we'll be fired! And banned from any Fazbear product! And do you want that?

Mindy— No? I mean we do get paid good money for basically nothing..

Biscuit— Then shush! We'll talk after work..

I miss you TWluZHk=, I really do. I just wish things could back to how they used to be... Where did you go?

—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_

End log

[shrxe]

hihihi!!! im shree, and i got me some bread :3

happy mootsgiving!!

keyboard order --

@qylinscafvne @thx-sunsxts-addrxss @im-on-crack-send-help @anonymouscuzwhynot001 @sunflxwcrs

@dragonerd8224 @goromustdie @hijabi-flavored-nerd @hxart-of-thx-ocxan @hazellevessque

@kair0s-in-space @book-girl4evaaa @cunt-cocainee

long speech under cut :')

first of all, maddie, the amazing person who tagged me in this. also my father. lit my father. (beas version) della, ilysm you make me so so happy. you're literally a comedian and not in the way you say it. you make me literally die laughing all the time and everytime we call im just so confused on how im friends with someone THIS COOL. i love you so much mads and im so happy that you match my energy so well. im so thankful that you're in my life and that you stayed :)

AYLIN!! ( @qylinscafvne ) : you and loife have taught me so much about what life is like, and i appreciate that more tahn you think. i know that you think i probably hate it and that i think you're lecturing me but honestly im really happy someone cares about me. i got to know you more after i joined the tpq gc, and im relly happy i did. i kinda look up to you, and you are super cool!!! im super thankful for you. (p.s you were one of the people who i squealed with joy once they followed me back) LOIFE!! ( @thx-sunsxts-addrxss ): as stated before one of my favorite advice givers ilysm-- MY MOTHER YALL!!! THIS IS MY MOM!! has AWESOME WRITING and is so cool like. omg. one of my wattpad -> tumblr moots and one of my first wattpad moots too actually!! ilysm and you are so cool it freaks me out some times-- im really happy i got to know you more over the past few months and i hope it js keeps growing!! RANI!! ( @im-on-crack-send-help ): my famous moot!! i love you so much rani, you are literally my queen. i had the pleasure of getting to call you and im so happy i did. you match my brainrotted brain perfectly and im so glad we're so close. you make me laugh so much omgh-- i genuinely smile at the screen when you show up. you're so pretty omgggshdheh DOLPHIN!! ( @anonymouscuzwhynot001 ): literally the one other person i know that like jatp. so cool. and your writing is so bomb too?? like?? also youre rly funny likeeee- also you let me rant abt my crush sooooo ur awesome. SEPH!! ( @sunflxwcrs ): i dont get most of your jokes but i go along with it anyways. shhh. nonetheless, YOU'RE SO FUNNY!!! literally make me cackle. but you can also be really chill too?? like best of both worlds fr-- AWESOME WRITER!! NAGA!!! ( @dragonerd8224 ): one of my longest moots on here!! he had to listen through all my tiny breakdowns on this app frrr. lit one of my fav people on here. like he's chill and nice and interesting!! a really good fren to have. fren. yes fren. and his oc's-- *chef's kiss* GORO! ( @goromustdie ): omgomgomg its a desi with similar music taste to me i might just FREAK. i wish i knew you better bc YOU SEEM SO COOL SHJKEHSJ- but from what i know of you you ARE really cool and nice too!! you seem so chill and like. if you want to know me better. i want to know you better. so. this is a friend request. yeah. MYNA!! ( @hijabi-flavored-nerd ): myna i love you so much. THE reblogger fr. queen reblogger. she is so cool though. also cannonically shakespere im ngl her poetry interpretations of my poetry are BETTER than my poetry LIKE WHAT!! i love her little interpretations that explain my entire life and predict the next 3. like. this poem was abt stubbing my toe. what. I LOVE YOU FOR IT THO--- FISHY!! ( @hxart-of-thx-ocxan ): my older sister. literally. my akka fr. SO cool and half the reason i got into aggtm. gives amazing advice + my chronically online bsf. ACTUALLY SO COOL??? also has amazing writing and is NOT MY MOTHOR GUYS!! akka. and literally pictionary QUEEN. (im sorry i had to say it) timezone twin!! ALICE!! ( @hazellevessque ): i find it funny that you're right under fishy. RULER OF SOLANGELO FRR. AWESOME WRITER!! also helped me with my HEARTBREAK after five survive-- holder of the braincell. HELPS ME WITH MY MATH HW <333 she's such a real one too. WE <3 YOU ALICE!! KAIROS!! ( @kair0s-in-space ): one of my longer moots too! met ya on another platform and found ya here!!! you're literally so cool omgdjgjhbd-- also your ART??? CRAZY GOOD!!! also your style is crazy cool dude i feel like i should bow in your presence. yk what fuck it. *bows* YOU'RE SO COOL MIGHTY KAIROS PLEASE SPARE ME- BEANIE!! ( @book-girl4evaaa ): ALSO MY MOTHER!!! (maddie's version) ILYSM!!! AWESoME ARTIST TOO BTW-- matches my freakkk and is also so posh and cool and is an amazing singer too and KJHGSHJKIDHGFDHUJHZGh- i love ur vibe and you were my first tumblr-only moot so congrats!! ilysm beanie you're crazily funny and mother me a lot in a good way

@cunt-cocainee zeph yk im thankful for you but since ik u irl im not writing a para for you to save myself out of embarrassment <3

Happy Mootsgiving, everyone!

So, technically, I know Thanksgiving is an American holiday… history… yadda yadda. However, this is not Thanksgiving.

This is Mootsgiving, and what I say goes ‘cause this is my holiday. Anyway! Mootsgiving is all the basic ideas of Thankgiving but better because I’m great like that.

I just wanted to show everyone how grateful I am, since gratefulness is a key principle of Thanksgiving.

I want all my moots from different countries to be able to have the picture-perfect movie-esque Thanksgiving of being surrounded by friends and family with all the care and love and gratefulness that can be poured into a single human. And, as the ever-dramatic Runar, what better way to do that than to organize a huge event?

So! Rules!

State what food you brought

State one thing you’re thankful for

My name is Runar, I brought the eggnog, and I’m grateful for each and every one of you 💗🫶

Really sappy and really long paragraph/speech under the cut!!

Soooo… to start off my big long speech… *clinks my fancy wine glass that’s filled with a mysterious substance* (It’s eggnog)

When I first started this blog, it was off a whim. I wanted to do something, something that involved putting my work out there, as I was just starting out. I wanted to mean something. In any sort of way, I wanted to leave a sort of mark. Not just any mark, though, no. I wanted to add a bit of joy, a spark of life that comes from creativity, and adding words and love into the space we occupy on this floating rock in space.

I wanted to write because it made me happy, and I wanted there to be a possibility of someone who was who got joy from reading to maybe stumble upon it, and get joy from me. Get joy from something I was able to provide for them.

I was also incredibly lonely. I had no friends, I had nothing, pretty much. I didn’t talk much. I was reclusive. I was okay, but I was empty. I didn’t have a purpose. And while I wasn’t expecting much, nothing at all really, I was overjoyed at the prospect that maybe just one person would stumble upon something I wrote and for a moment of their day, maybe they got peace from it.

Maybe they felt a little less lonely. I would have been at peace with just knowing the possibility of it was out there. And then… it did. And I got more than I bargained for, even, I got a friend. My first friend.

From there, everything… clicked. Slowly, but ever so surely, things were falling into place. I was gaining something that had not even crossed my mind. A family.

So, my silly dream born from a whim became friends, connections, and family, it became life-altering. It had ups, it had downs, it had in-betweens. It was beautiful and messy and happy and sad and fucked up and so wonderfully… human?

Yeah, this is online, this is a silly mootsgiving idea I thought up three hours ago because I wanted people to know I love them.

But to someone who had nothing, this is everything. You are everything.

Even if we’ve only talked one time, you have a special place in my heart. The character growth has been… one hell of a ride. I’ve gone through many eras, and made new friends in each and every one of them. So, with the end of the year closing soon, I suppose in a way this is not just a silly mootsgiving.

My bigger end goal, really, was to make sure as we get to the end of this ear, you know how genuinely important this whole year has been to me. How important you have been. I got an anon ask,

What does it feel like to be wanted?

It was beautiful poetry. I replied, said I wouldn’t know what it feels like to be wanted. But really? I think maybe I do. I think it feels like having enough people that you love to organize and invite everyone to a huge event online, to write out this heartfelt paragraph and trust that at least one person will care enough to read it.

My beginning goal has changed so much, and not at all. My biggest purpose in life has been, and I think will always be, to add something into this world.

Creativity, joy, happiness, compassion, I want to ensure that no matter what, as long as you know me, you know you have one person on this earth who loves and cares about you with as much feeling that can physically be felt by one person without exploding into a bunch of tiny little runar pieces.

But moreso, I think maybe my goal has changed from wanting to put stories out there, to putting myself out there. I don’t want to write stories that are just fiction, just crafted ideas meshed together to create a blob of fiction.

I want to write pieces of myself into everything, which i think might genuinely be impossible to not do. I want my heart to pour out of my fingers into the things i type out for you, and i want to not only feel things, but to maybe make you feel something too. Something warm and fuzzy, something good, as good as you deserve.

Aaaaannnd…. to end this….

I love you guys, thanks for being here <3

@marauding-almond @percyweasleyapologist @yesiamprocrastinating @dieatthealtar-deactivated @caramel-covered-apples @thatoneslytherinnerd @thatoneslytherinnerd2

@hedgehog-troops@circe-butbetter @stars-on-my-bedroom-ceiling @l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft @aidens-ocean-galaxy@rainystarsx@liggy-not-potter @goformoony@i-still-got-love-for-you @definitionoffuckup@mairon-goth-minion

@weewooooweew @residentdisaster @matty-os-blog @starkissed-mars @printershorts @the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus @lesbian-disaster-tm @star-dust-shark @enbysiriusblack @sadnappo @kawaiibarty @hershey-not-the-chocolate-maybe

@jamespotterbbg @scrumblewonk @seekmemystar @rins-batcave @utterqueerdisasterthesimp @gasolinehornet @asters-tempo @here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can @permetutotheworld @theprongspotter @sotiredimbored @yourlocalbadgerscales @raeprise @burgundykicks @whydousernamesevenexist @jaydove-writes @the-stars-drowning @inara-tries-to-survive @saturnsconstellation @royallygray

[hamiltonimagines]

You Are a Legend

Pairing: Daveed x Reader

Request: “maybe a daveed x reader based on the song "S.L.U.T, by Bea Miller. like, someone call the reader a slut, then she stands for herself and he's just "I- w o w 😳" thank youu!!” - @brunadesuu

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of clubbing and drinking, mentions of drunk people, slut-shaming (I do NOT condone slut shaming at all), and there is a slightly predatory guy

“Y/N please” Daveed begged me. Daveed was one of my close friends and also my roommate. He was currently begging me to go with him tonight, to a club.

“Every time that we go clubbing, you get recognized and drunk woman won’t stop hitting on you” I complained. “Are you jealous?” Daveed teased. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s just annoying when I go out with my best friend and you spend the whole time with a bunch of strangers” I explained. “Sounds like Y/N is jealous that other women are taking my attention away from her” Daveed continued to tease.

“Can you be serious for a second?” I pleaded with him. Daveed walked towards me and cupped my face. “You have my full attention now” he said, finally listening.

I couldn’t believe how close he was to my face. It took everything I had to not lean in and kiss him.

“Do you understand why I don’t want to go?” I asked him. “Of course I do, I’m just telling you that I want to have a fun night with my best friend. And I think we’ll have a great time. I just need you to go with me, next time we hang out, you can pick what we do” Daveed reasoned.

I thought about it for a second. Then Daveed started pouting. I knew I couldn’t resist him. “Okay fine I’ll go” I told him, giving in. “You’re the best” he said, pulling me into a hug.

I inhaled and I could smell his cologne. It smelled like home. Daveed was always a constant in my life and he was my home, no matter where we were.

“You won’t regret it, I promise” he told me. “I better not” I said, as I turned to go to my room to get dressed up.

I threw on a short silver dress with some heels. I walked into our shared bathroom and put my hair up in a high ponytail. Then I started to do my makeup.

I heard Daveed walk towards the bathroom and stop outside the bathroom doorway. He looked speechless. I saw his eyes slowly look down my whole body.

“Is it too much?” I asked, worried. “Y/N you look...breathtaking” Daveed said, genuinely. I could feel my face heat up, it felt like my cheeks were on fire. “Forget all the girls trying to talk to me, I’ll be lucky if you don’t get stolen away from me by some guy” Daveed said.

“You’re still staring” I said, as I finished my makeup. “No, I was just um....zoned out” Daveed said, clearly lying. “Daveed...” I said as I placed my hands lightly on his chest. “We’ve been friends forever, you can admit when you’re checking me out” I said, a softer volume.

It was Daveed’s turn to be embarrassed and blushing. “Pshh checking you out? I wasn’t checking you out” he said, still lying.

One of the best parts of mine and Daveed’s relationship is we were so comfortable with each other, that sometimes teasing was inevitable.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked him. “Yeah let’s go” he said, snapping out of his daze.

It was a quick ride to the club that Daveed had picked out. He pulled into a parking spot.

“Wait here” he said, quickly. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I trusted him so I stayed in the car. Then before I knew it, he was at my door. He opened the door for me. Then he held out his arm.

I smiled to myself at his kind gesture. I carefully grabbed his arm and stepped out of the car. “Thank you D, you’ll always be the sweetest guy I know” I told him.

I continued to hold on to his arm as we walked up to the club. He pulled away for a second to open the door of the club. “After you” he said, sweetly.

I walked in and the music hit me. I could feel the bass in my bones. “Let’s find a table” Daveed said, loudly over the music. I nodded, since I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hear me over the music.

Daveed instinctively reached for my hand and interlaced our fingers. Daveed always made sure he was holding my hand when we were in busy places.

He lead and pulled me behind as he walked over to a booth. We both slid into opposite sides of the booth. “If I look as good as you say I do, I think I can pull some strings and get us free drinks” I said, smirking.

“Don’t do it, I’ll pay for the drinks. Don’t flirt with creepy guys please. I care about you too much for that” Daveed said, sounding concerned. “D, relax. It was a joke. I’ll be back, try to not get taken away by any drunk women” I told him. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you tonight” Daveed said, with a flirty tone.

I rolled my eyes and laughed to myself as I walked to the bar. The bartender walked right over. “What can I get you?” He asked me. I told him mine and Daveed’s drink orders and waited. I was waiting for our drinks when I felt an arm slip around my waist.

I expected it to be Daveed. I looked over my shoulder and saw it was some random guy. I moved his arm away from me. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” He asked. “Avoiding guys like you” I answered simply, with a fake smile.

“Woah woah sweetheart, don’t have to get all feisty on me. I just want to show you a good time” he whispered in my ear. “Can I show you something?” I asked him.

His eyes went big, and he just nodded. I pointed over towards where Daveed was sitting. “That’s my boyfriend, and if you don’t leave me alone right now, he might have an issue with you” I told him. Daveed saw what I was doing and stared at the guy and waved at him in a threatening way.

“Have a nice night” the guy said, and quickly ran off to pester someone else. “Here you go miss” the bartender said as he handed me both the drinks. “Thank you so much” I said, grabbing the drinks.

I walked back over to our table and sat down. I handed Daveed his drink and took a sip of mine.

“So what did that guy want?” Daveed asked me. “To show me a good time” I quoted, while rolling my eyes. “How foolish, doesn’t he know that’s my job” Daveed joked.

“Oh look it’s your turn now” I said, giggling to myself. “What do you mean?” Daveed asked, very confused. Just as he said it, a very clearly drunk woman walked up to our table.

“You’re that guy from Hamilton, right?” She said, slurring her words. “Oh...uh yeah” Daveed answered. She smirked and then whispered something in his ear. I could see his eyes go wide as he listened to what she said.

“Actually I’m here with my girlfriend tonight” he said, interlacing our hands from across the table. The girl looked at me and looked disgusted. “Your loss” she told him, and then walked away.

Daveed chugged the rest of his drink. “Was what she said that bad?” I asked him, curiously. “Let’s just say that what she said to me wasn’t PG in any way” he said. Then he stood up from the table.

“Where are you going?” I asked him. “We are going to go dance” he told me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor.

We got to the dance floor and Daveed turned around to face me. I slipped my arms around his neck. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer until we were pressed up against each other.

“You look really nice tonight” he whispered in my ear. “So do you” I whispered back to him. I could feel him tracing shapes on my waist. We were dancing with each other to the music, kind of in our own little world.

Then he took my hand and spun me around. Now, I had my back to Daveed. The music transitioned to a much faster one. I started to grind on his lap. He put his hands on my sides and held me close to him.

Then I held someone grab my arm and quickly pull me away from Daveed. I saw that some girl had pulled me away and she looked angry. Daveed grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him, that way the girl couldn’t get to me.

“You make me sick” she told me, with a disgusted tone. “What’s your problem?” I asked her. I had never seen this girl before and I didn’t know why she seemed to hate my guts.

“I can tell you what happened. You recognized Daveed as being famous and now you’re trying to get into bed with him. You’re one of those people who tries to sleep with every famous they run into. You’re such a slut” she ranted.

It stung, this girl had no idea who I was and had no problem telling me how much she hated me. Slut-shaming was such a disgusting part of society. It only targets women, no one ever gets mad at guys for having one-night stands or sleeping with random girls.

“Actually she’s my best friend, not some random girl” Daveed defended. It felt nice of him to step in, but I could defend myself. I saw the girl’s expression change instantly. “Oh...uh...I didn’t know” she said, trying to backpedal.

“You know what, it’s women like you that insist on tearing other women down. Why can’t all women just get along. So I’m comfortable in my own skin and I love my body. So what? I can dance with my best friend however I like. Really it’s none of your business” I said, stepping in front of Daveed.

Daveed put his hand around my waist. “You are a legend” Daveed whispered in my ear. The girl got really embarrassed and quickly walked away. I turn around to face Daveed and he picks me up and hugs me.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen” he exclaimed to me. “I don’t have time for slut-shaming. I’m not going to just stand around and take it” I told him.

“You ready to go?” He asked me. I just nodded my head. Daveed put his arm around my shoulder and we walked out the door.

He helped me into the car again and we drove him. We didn’t speak the whole ride home. We just sat in a comfortable silence. At one point, Daveed put his hand on my thigh and rested it there the whole way home.

We pulled up to our apartment and went upstairs. I went to my room and changed into some pajamas. I went into the bathroom and started to brush my teeth.

Daveed showed up in the doorway again. “Hey, when you’re done, can we talk?” He asked me. I nodded my head and he walked back into his room. I finished up brushing my teeth and took down my hair.

I walked into Daveed’s room and saw that he had changed into a tank top and sweatpants. “So what do you want to talk about?” I asked, as I sat down next to him on his bed. He took one of my hands and held it in his lap. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” He asked me.

“Yep, I am aware” I told him, surprised as to how serious he was being. “Well I need to tell you something” he told me. “You know you can tell me anything” I told him.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship” he said, cautiously. “You could never jeopardize our friendship. I will never stop being your best friend, no matter what” I reassured him.

“Y/N, I like you, I really like you. I fell for you the minute we met, and it was because you seemed like such a free spirit. You reminded me of that tonight when you stood up for yourself. I’m in awe of you constantly” he confessed to me.

“Wow, is that all true?” I asked him. “Every word” he said, genuinely. “Okay, then I have an important question for you” I told him. “What is it?” Daveed asked, seeming nervous.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked him. “I was hoping you would” he said. I smiled to myself and then leaned in and slowly kissed his lips.

He kissed me back and lightly tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth. I could feel him smirking against my lips. “Hey hey, no funny business” I said, giggling.

“Try and stop me” he said, smirking. He quickly pushed me over so I was laying down on his bed. He kept his hands hovering above my sides. Then he started to tickle me and I couldn’t stop the giggling.

I squirmed and tried to get away from his grasp, but Daveed was persistent. “Da...Daveed please stop” I begged him. He didn’t listen to my pleads and continued to tickle me.

“Your laugh is so gorgeous” he said, as he stopped tickling me. He crawled up closer to me and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

“I am completely infatuated with you Y/N” he told me, barely above a whisper. “I’m glad the feeling is mutual” I said, kissing him again.

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[dibberdipper]

Cheap frat party beer

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Drinking, suggestive themes, language

Word count: About 1,500

Summary: Pining was never Poppy’s style. No matter how much she’s going against her gut feeling, she just might not regret going to this boring party.

Author’s note: I tried to fix as many grammar mistakes as I could, I am so sorry if you found a few. Thank you so much for the comments of support on my last post, this is my first official fic on here so I really hope everyone enjoys! 

Her name was Poppy Min-Sinclair. She needed no introduction, she knew it was pure luck and privilege that led her to the top of the Belvoir food chain. She had everything, from the perfect grades, the perfect ranking, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect boyfriend, she could go on.

But for some reason ever since that new girl stepped foot in her life, she was left wanting something more. Bea Hughes came along and took over her entire life in an instant. It frustrated Poppy to no end. How could a girl rise the ranks so quickly in mere days? How did she already gain the attention of the whole school?

More importantly, the question she was the most startled by was why she was so infatuated. She had never felt this helpless over someone since private school. It felt like every encounter was a ticking time bomb until she finally gave in and forgot about who she was. She could be absolutely anybody she wanted, yet she wanted nothing more than to be the Belvoire’s newest fascinations girlfriend.

Instead of paying attention in class, or actually paying attention to the daily mindless gossip, she found herself reliving memories made days prior. The intrigue when she first met her, the pure rage and what almost felt like fun when Bea pretty much threw her in the jello pool, and the embarrassment that was her take down.

“What, are you obsessed with me?”

Just thinking about that moment sent her butterflies in her stomach fluttering, she’s never felt that familiar warm sensation on her cheeks at least since elementary school.

Before she could finish her daydreams, to her disappointment they just had to be interrupted.

“Poppy? Poppy!!”

She rolled her eyes.

“What am I, a dog your trying to train? Stop yelling in my damn ear.” She sneered at her friend.

Chloe huffed. “Poppy, you need to go to this weekend’s party. The last one was like, so embarrassing for you-“

Poppy sent her a warning glare, she gulped in response.

“My point is you need to show up and try to embarrass her back.”

Though deep down, she felt a rush of excitement for what could possibly go down, silently regretting her relationship status, but she could never let her thoughts be known.

She gave her right hand woman a sly smile. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give them a show.”

Over the weekend

“Oh, um, babe I didn’t expect to see you here after the last one.” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for her response.

Poppy’s attention wasn’t on her boyfriend, but on the girl at the other side of the room. Bea took a moment to notice her, and gave her a sly smirk when she did. Poppy gave her a cold look over her shoulder to keep her facade of disgust up. After a tense moment, Carter nudged her shoulder.

“Babe?”

Poppy finally came up with a response after not paying attention to him, her eyes still glued on Bea’s.

“Well, I had to show somebody I’m not willing to give up my spot so easily. I have to show everyone at this party that I’m Poppy Min-Sinclair and not just ‘Bitch that was yeeted into jello’-“ Before she finished her rant, she tore her eyes away from Bea for a moment to glance at Carter. It was evident Bea hadn’t caught only her attention.

Time seemed to freeze as she felt a plan spin in her head. She was no stranger to orchestrating these evil ideas, otherwise she wouldn’t be ranked number one. She took in her surroundings; Carter’s wandering eyes, the cooler behind them that was filled to the brim with cheap canned beer, and the inviting stare from the girl across the room. She took a deep breath, no matter how many times she’s concocted these ideas, they didn’t make her feel anymore secure.

“Fuck it.” She reached behind her, opened the cooler, and chugged the bitter taste as fast as she could.

Thinking she was only trying to prove herself ‘cool’ Carter chuckled.

“Baby, I don’t mind leaving for a bit to get you something you’ll actually like from-“

“No, you listen here!” She jabbed a finger to his chest.

“I’m not going to be humiliated and stand around while you’re eye-fucking another girl. You’re as disposable as anybody else in this damn school, and I’m not!”

She knew she was no lightweight but nobody else knew that, not even Chloe. She caught Veronica live-streaming her whole ‘meltdown’. If everything backfired, she knew she could easily hide behind the classic too much beer excuse.

She played off most of the eyes watching her, as she swayed her hips over to the only pair of eyes she cared were watching. Perhaps to everyone else it looked like a cat fight about to go down, or a thinly veiled threat. But only Bea Hughes and her partner in crime Zoey Wade knew what she really whispered.

“Go upstairs, turn left, and walk ahead until you see the last dorm on the right. Leave five minutes after me.”

Before she walked away, she was sure to send a glare to Zoey.

“Alone.”

Poppy impatiently tapped her fingers on her lap wondering if it was all a mistake. She bit her lip, questioning herself and whether everything backfire until the door slammed open.

“Poppy I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but-“

“Kiss me.” The words blurred out of her mouth without her even realizing it.

Bea’s mouth hung wide open in shock. “I… I’m sorry, excuse me, but what the fuck?”

“Do you want me to say please or what?”

Bea closed the door behind her, and took a few steps over. The room was almost completely dark, with the exception of the moonlight crawling in with the party lights. She felt Bea’s hands, that she noticed were bigger than hers, cup her face. She took in her deep dark eyes, the beautiful brown tone of her skin, and her inviting lips adorned in red lipstick. Bea drew back.

“Look your breath smells like alcohol, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She was turned her away, but Poppy grabbed her hands in protest.

“I may not look like it, but I swear I can handle plenty of drinks. Don’t walk away when I’m not even drunk.”

Bea met her eyes, and gave the woman in front of her with pure desperation in her eyes her signature sly smirk.

“Is Poppy Min-Sinclair, ranked number one in Belvoire, begging the small town girl to kiss her?”

Poppy swallowed any cocky remarks back, along with her pride. “She is. If you keep her waiting, she might just walk out.”

Poppy felt Bea’s warm hands on her face again, and her sultry whisper in her ear. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we…”

Bea nibbled her ear, making Poppy let out a soft moan. A sound neither of them knew she could make until that moment.

Their lips met after only a week of glaring, pettiness mixed met with almost immediate pining, and just all around sexual tension. Neither of them knew a sensation could be so intense with somebody they had only just known. They skipped the friends milestone, straight to enemies, to whatever they were now.

Bea’s hands wondered into her hair, Poppy’s hands roaming over Bea’s back. Her fingers trailing downwards, her heart beat’s pace quickened. She anticipated every moment next. Poppy felt Bea’s hands linger at the hem of her skirt, when they heard the knob turn. They pushed each other away, straightening her clothes. Poppy immediately dropped down and hid under the bed as the door opened.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while and I wanted to be sure you didn’t need any backup.”

Bea sent a playful glance to Poppy, Poppy’s heart freezing. The rush of excitement overwhelming her, she didn’t know whether Bea would expose her right now or keep their secret act in the night a secret.

“Little miss Poppy Min-Sinclair never showed up. A shame really.”

Zoey laughed. “You really scared that girl into chickening out of talking to you.” Poppy glared at Bea, and Bea stifled a giggle.

“Anyways the guys downstairs want to play beer pong, you can go up a few ranks since Veronica’s live-streaming. You can’t miss it!”

Bea shot a sneaky look at Poppy, and looked back at Zoey.

“Ten minutes tops, ever since Poppy essentially ditched me here I’ve gotten a bit sleepy. When I’m done I’m going to sleep in here, I’m sure whoever this room belongs to won’t mind too much.”

“Sounds like a plan, ready to kick some ass Bea?”

They walked out of the eye sight for Poppy, and she heard them leave the room with one last piece of dialogue slipping out. Poppy’s heart sunk.

“Please don’t try to wake me up or anything, I have a feeling I’ll be in there for a few hours.”

Poppy slowly tiptoed to the door, closing it. She sighed and sat back on the bed. There was nothing for her to do for the next ten minutes but sit there and smell like cheap frat party beer.

Thank you for reading! Tagging: @lolimugly @origmansello @grapecaseschoices @mvalentine @greatestflirt-hero​ @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @coldbatfriendroad@that-one-choices-person @ariel-0318 @drethanramslay @queensayeed @kawaiibanditmoneytaco @rotten-teddy-bear @aguywiththreepairsofglasses @elijahmessenger @axiel90 @ritafarrr @erza-elcy-crimson @poshbiscuit @sarasansone98 @ghalind @that-one-choices-person @dervaux @generaldameronss @adrianadmirer @anonymous--anteater @everythingchoices

[pawprintsmoon]

You and me, Part III

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30337365/chapters/74893146#workskin

The proposal

After a shower and clean pajamas, Alex finished packing his suitcase, tucking the ring safely inside. The next morning, he was so focused on not losing it again that he ended up misplacing his coffee filled travel mug. He had put it down for one second, and suddenly it was nowhere to be seen. Henry found it in minutes and they left for the airport. Distracted beyond reason, Alex had to hop out of the car to race back inside to grab his wallet. Then he had to hop out of the car again to run inside and get his phone.

After speeding to the JFK airport, they crossed the Atlantic and spent one night in Kensington recovering from jet lag. They spent their first full day at a trans* equity conference. The English press greeted their visiting prince with union jacks and rainbows. Naturally, they responded with charming comments and smiling photos. Alex took the opportunity to livestream a message to his followers: ‘of course transgender high schoolers should be allowed on the sports team that aligns with their gender, and here’s why…’

Privately, in the car back to the palace, Henry expressed the opinion that public schools ought to have polo teams, because it’s a coed sport and ideal for nonbinary teens who don’t like to rock the boat. Alex responded with similar sentiments about quidditch. The rest of the drive they shared a familiar rant about how Harry Potter belongs to the fans (including the trans* fans) and not only to JKR.

That night, just past 2am, Alex turned over in bed to ask, “You awake?”

“Always.”

“Good. We’re going on a fieldtrip. Come on.” Alex pulled them both out of bed, and they got dressed, Alex swinging on his Gucci jacket. He would have worn a hoodie, the incognito uniform of the internationally recognizable, but tonight he didn’t want to hide himself. It was worth the risk. Besides, they didn’t really need to sneak around anymore, did they? Old habits.

He led them out of the palace, down Prince Consort Road. He stopped for a selfie with the sign, because he really had wanted to last time. A second selfie included them both, looking goofy and not caring. When they reached the back entrance of the Victoria and Albert Museum, they kissed lazily against the wall. Once Henry’s lips melted Alex’s nerves, he drew back to take the next step.

“Thing about dating the prince,” he said, holding up keys, “is that you can borrow pretty much anything he owns. And he can get the keys to anywhere if he asks nicely.”

“You’re a thief,” snarked Henry, walking through the door that Alex held open for him. “And a knave, and a scoundrel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex gave the security guard a wad of cash. “Thanks, Gavin. It’ll be Renaissance City.”

They walked past sculptures, artifacts, and paintings, surrounded by the history that they were a part of. They got to the piazza, Henry’s sacred place. Just like last time, the first statue, Samson Slaying a Philistine took away what little breath Alex had, and he had to lean on Henry for support. Like windswept magnets, their lips met, for no reason at all.

Most of the time, Alex had a strong sense of Henry and himself being part of the current moment of history, changing the world in the here and now. But right then, time seemed to melt, and they were surrounded by historical sculptures telling timeless stories. Zephyr the Greek god of the west wind, Proserpina in the underworld, and Jason and his golden fleece. Archetypical and expansive.

And then there was Henry: the national gay landmark, prince charming, an obtuse fucking asshole. Hopefully his future husband. Sticking with his plan, he pulled away from Henry and got out his phone to open Spotify. Taking a deep breath, he pressed play. “Your Song” came from the tinny speakers.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

“Why am I getting deja vu?” Henry asked, as Alex wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist.

“No clue.”

They began to sway, slow and intimate, cheek to cheek. He recognized the swelling in his chest as the same ache he’d felt when Henry first played this song for him years ago in the music parlor. Back then, he’d been trying so hard to repress his love for Henry, gripping the settee and wondering how long they would fly across the world to touch each other without talking about it. Now they let love dance around them, unbridled and openly declared in front of the world.

Other memories stirred up unbidden. Henry ghosting him after their first kiss, leaving him out in the snow and questioning everything. And then again when Alex hinted at love, leaving him in the lake with his heart carved out. Twice is not a pattern though, is it. Ever since the last time they were in this museum together, Henry had given his entire self to Alex. He had decided to be with Alex for real that night. That had been when they decided to love each other on purpose.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words. How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

For several beats of silence, he just looked at Henry. And Henry looked at him, and the museum disappeared. The whole world faded away except Henry and himself. It was now. He knelt down to one knee slowly, never losing eye contact. Henry’s loving smile showed no surprise as Alex spoke.

“Henry George Edward James Fox-Mounchristen-Windsor,” he said, making Henry roll his eyes. “I have a question to ask you. You see, my mom asked me, back in our early days, if I felt forever about you. I knew it then, and I know it now. I want to spend my life with you. So... ”

He paused, reached into his jacket, and pulled out the bedazzled box, rhinestones spelling out ‘love.’ Henry had probably guessed that it was never intended for June’s earrings, because he laughed like the box was an inside joke. Despite knowing what was coming, he inhaled audibly when Alex opened the box to reveal a simple silver ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Henry laughed again, a laugh like the birds of sunrise. “Yes, Alex. I will marry you.”

The prince reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather box, the same size as the one Alex held. Then, he knelt down on one knee as well, mirroring his fiancé. He opened it to reveal a thick antique gold ring inlaid with a gem that Alex couldn’t identify. Beautiful. “Alex Claremont-Diaz, will you spend forever with me as your partner, confidant, and best friend?”

“I,” Alex choked, “yeah, fuck, of course-”

Henry cut him off with a swift and passionate kiss, both of them on their knees, fumbling the engagement rings onto their fingers. Alex felt like the deceased king that had probably worn his engagement ring. They kissed until their knees grew sore, and they collapsed on the tile.

“How did you think to bring a ring and everything?”

“Believe it or not, I somehow predicted that you might do this,” Henry teased.

Their buzzing bodies urged them to get back to the palace, to Henry’s room, to the bed. So they pulled each other to their feet, both dizzy and desperate. Before leaving the piazza they held each other for just a little longer.

“I love you,” whispered Henry.

“Fuck, I know you do.” It’s an amazing thing, to know completely and utterly that somebody loves you. “I love you too.”

“I know.” Henry held him around the waist and their foreheads pressed together. “Hey, so, I know we’re going to have to have a big, gay, traditional, royal wedding and all that -”

“Which we’ll make fun!” Alex said, with the positivity of a camp counselor. The world could really benefit from a big, gay, royal wedding. “There will be so many rainbows, even only if the crowd brings them.”

“And we’ll definitely have an adequate number of champagne fountains.” Henry winked at him. “But you interrupted-”

“Sorry!”

“-me. I was saying that I know we’re doing the public wedding for the audience, and the press, but...” Suddenly Henry looked nervous. “Well, would you maybe want to…”

“Spit it out babe,” Alex kissed Henry lightly on the lips before pulling back to show that Henry had his entire attention. “I’m listening, for real.”

“Would you, would you maybe want to elope first?”

“I… um. Would we, you know, still do the royal wedding afterwards?” Alex asked. “Keep it a secret?”

“Well, yes.” The words tumbled out. “But it would be a secret that we’re keeping for ourselves. We wouldn’t be keeping a secret for an election, or family expectations, or our god damned publicists. It would be ours, and we would keep it because we want to.

“Because I want to keep you to myself, just a little bit.” Henry shrugged, sheepish. “You give so much of yourself to your country, to the world, and I love that about you, but I want this to be just us. I’d be open to inviting Bea, Pez, June, and Nora, and our parents too, if you want.”

“And honestly, I don’t really want there to be a minister or priest… maybe Pez could do it?” Henry continued. “It doesn’t even have to be legal, so people don’t find out. I don’t know, I just thought, it could be just us, making a promise. Not with the crown, not with the church, not with all your adoring fans. Just the people that really matter.”

“I…” A grin spread slowly across Alex’s face. “I love it. Yes. Hell yes. Where? Not Vegas. Paris?”

“Paris.” Relief sweetened Henry’s smile. “And I could play my vows for you on the piano, if you’d like.”

“Yes I’d like! We could do it on a sailboat with a captain! Can you bring a piano on a sailboat?” Henry shook his head and kissed Alex’s grin, nuzzling their noses together. Alex whispered, “Okay, I’ll slow down and we can figure it out together. You and me.”

“You and me.” They fell into each other, a blissful act of entropy, all lips and hands.

“Besides,” Alex said as they stopped to catch their breath. “Secrets can be kind of hot if I remember correctly.”

AN: So, I thought I'd end with the proposal, but I feel like there's maybe more here? Like, this scene was kinda building up to some 'just got engaged' smut, or it could go on to show their elopement. I'm feeling a tinsy bit uninspired for their vows though, so if any of y'all feel like writing those, I could insert to the rest of the marriage scene that could be fun. If anyone feels like doing the post-proposal smut (or the wedding night smut lol) lemme know! Otherwise, thank you for reading! Check out my other rwrb fics, if you feel like it :)

[bestworstcase]

more than once you've said "the tts fandom can't write x character, or can't write y character," but have you considered that maybe they can write them fine, you've just built up your desired interpretations of these characters? you give off this condescending attitude, like ONLY YOU can write tts characters accurately, ONLY YOU understand them, & any interpretations that don't in some way align with what you think are WRONG. this has become more apparent as you've worked through bitter snow

let’s discuss king frederic, and how he is often characterized in fanworks vs how he is characterized in the show. 

now... i think we can all agree that frederic is at best a mediocre father and a not especially good king, that in his worst moments he steps over the line into emotional abuse vis a vis his treatment of rapunzel, and that the avoidant head-in-the-sand approach he takes to the black rock problem in s1 causes widespread pain, unnecessary panic, and does not improve the situation whatsoever. 

he is widely disliked in the fandom for very good reason

however! it is difficult, though hardly impossible, to find fic where frederic acts or speaks... like frederic, for one very simple reason: the fandom, by and large, as a group, writes frederic as an angry, abusive man who blows up when he is confronted with the many, many things he does wrong. often this takes the form of a character, or characters, getting up in front of him and rattling off his list of crimes, real or perceived, followed by him basically throwing a tantrum.

canon frederic, to put it bluntly, does not do that. 

exhibit a: caine’s confrontation of frederic in before ever after.

caine sets up exactly the scenario that in the average tts fanfic would end with frederic yelling / blustering / furiously denying the accusations, plus she does it while rounding up all his guests and putting them in cage to haul them off and, presumably, kill them somewhere. like. the stakes are life or death and this is an extremely stressful situation for everyone involved.

and this is how that conversation goes down: 

FRED: Release my guests immediately!

CAINE: What’s the matter, Fred? Am I ruining your perfect day?

RAPUNZEL: ...The Duchess?

CAINE: Oh, honey. I am no Duchess.

RAPUNZEL: I don’t understand.

CAINE: Of course you wouldn’t, Rapunzel, but try to follow along. This is all your fault.

RAPUNZEL: What?!

CAINE: You see, after your untimely... disappearance, your father locked up every criminal in the kingdom... including a simple petty thief. My father. I saw him thrown into a cage and hauled off like some animal, never to be seen again. So... I thought I’d come back, and return the favor. 

[the wagon rolls in]

CAINE: Load ‘em up, boys! Your turn, Your Majesty. 

[Frederic moves to shield Rapunzel; Caine snickers.]

CAINE: Oh, come on, you didn’t think we’d leave our prized pig in the pen, did you?

RAPUNZEL: [as Caine’s gang drags Frederic toward the wagon] Dad—

FREDERIC: Rapunzel, stay back. 

RAPUNZEL: But—

FREDERIC: No. There’s nothing you can do. As your father and your king, I command you to stay put. 

there are two key points that i want to make here, because they diverge significantly from the way frederic is characterized in analogous scenarios in fanfics, like, 90% of the time. 

1) fred doesn’t get angry. he doesn’t bluster or yell. he orders caine to release his guests, and when she refuses, he gets quiet. he does not interrupt caine’s rant, he does not even try to deny her accusations, and he doesn’t stomp around escalating the situation even while caine is prancing around waving a sword in his daughter’s face or literally poking him in the chest. 

he stays calm. 

2) fred’s primary, overriding concern is for rapunzel’s safety, and the safety of his guests. not his own. he does not struggle when caine’s men lead him away. he protests on behalf of his guests, but not himself, and he attempts to physically shield rapunzel from harm before he is dragged away. he doesn’t waste his breath trying to argue with caine, but he does tell rapunzel firmly not to put herself in danger trying to rescue him. 

now... there are plenty of ways to interpret why frederic behaves this way, and my personal take is certainly not the only possible one. but the behavior itself, the staying calm in the face of a crisis, while someone is in his face threatening him, his family, and his guests and making pretty charged accusation, is a) objectively playing out on the screen and b) directly at odds with the way frederic most often acts in fanfics. 

exhibit b: mood-swapped frederic blows up just like fanon frederic constantly does

and this is the only time we ever see frederic lose his temper like this in the entire series. again, this is not a matter of interpretation: this is just plainly what happens on the screen. when he is in his right mind, frederic is not a “scream accusations, whip out a sword, and impulsively declare war or attack someone because he’s mad” sort of person, and to say that he is really like that, deep down, is just as silly as trying to argue that cass really is a peppy, soft-hearted, affectionate pushover, or that eugene really is too riddled-with self-doubt and anxiety to make any decisions, or that rapunzel really is a grouchy, moody, misanthropic person. the mood potion makes everyone act like fundamentally different versions of themselves; their behavior is, literally, out of character for their normal, not high-off-their-asses-on-a-magical-potion selves. 

exhibit c: the angry mob in secrets of the sundrop

like with caine, this confrontation kicks off with a premise that should be pretty familiar to anyone who reads any fic featuring frederic at all, ie everybody is pissed at frederic and there is literally an enraged mob screaming for justice in the throne room. and that goes like this:

[everybody shouting in angry panic]

FREDERIC: People... [raising his voice to be heard] Citizens, please! Listen to me!

[Max rears and whinnies to get everyone’s attention, and the shouting dwindles away.]

FREDERIC: I will not lie to you any longer. Corona is in grave danger. The queen has been taken; over half our royal guard lie wounded; and these black rocks draw ever closer.

[the shouting begins to pick up again]

EUGENE: Uh, sir, hi, yeah—if there’s a ‘but’ in this speech, you probably want to cut to it right now. 

FREDERIC: But I look at you, and I don’t just see subjects. I see friends, family; strong, brave individuals who have stood by each other, side-by-side, and have never, ever backed down from a fight! Today, we face a danger like none before. As your king, your friend, and as your brother, I ask you to fight one more time. For Corona!

again, key points: 

1) frederic does not deny, bluster, shout down, or otherwise attempt to refute the basic point that he bungled the black rock situation. he did bungle it, and he knows that [this scene is preceded by him spelling out the full extent of his failures to rapunzel and openly admitting guilt]. through his behavior, he demonstrates that he accepts culpability for the situation and implicitly accepts the legitimacy of the crowd’s anger. 

2) he raises his voice only so he can be heard above the shouting, and as soon as folks quiet down, he drops to a reasonable volume again. his mood is grim, but he isn’t angry. he projects calm. 

3) eugene is nervous about frederic losing control of the crowd and accidentally causing a riot or something; frederic is not. 

4) instead of denying the crowd’s anger, frederic tries to reframe the problem for them: yes, things are bad, but they are strong and brave and we can all work together to put things right. he doesn’t shout them down; he seeks to inspire them. 

and 5) when frederic says “we face a danger,” he means that. the very next thing he does after giving this speech is go straight to the frontlines to fight in the same battle he’s asking everyone else to join in. he's not asking them to do anything he isn’t willing to do himself. 

which... i would argue even more than the caine confrontation in BEA, is diametrically opposed to the way the typical fanon frederic would respond to an angry mob situation, because the typical fanon frederic is a very angry, aggressive man, and that... simply isn’t who frederic is. he’s calm, he’s knows how to work a crowd, he knows how to use his authority to achieve his goals without browbeating or threatening. 

even when he does get angry—such as his instinctive reaction to arianna’s kidnapping, when he jumps first to “we will invade old corona”—he doesn’t yell or stomp around or throw tantrum. he gets stiff and rather cold and makes an impulsive judgment call... but then he takes some time to brood by himself, calms down, talks things out with rapunzel, admits his failures, and doesn’t follow through with the impulsive order he made in the heat of the moment. 

like... flat out, he is not an angry man.

and it’s frustrating, when i go to read fanfic and frederic is overwhelmingly characterized as this hapless angry shouty abusive person, because it is breathtakingly far removed from how he acts in canon, and i like frederic as a character. i find him very interesting, and it’s not fun to read fics where everything that makes him interesting is taken away and replaced with this sort of one-note Shouty Angry King/Bad Dad Whom Everyone Hates. and that applies, unfortunately, to a very large number of the types of fics i like to read (namely, long canon exploratory or canon divergent fics, etc)

anyway,

i am perfectly happy to read interpretations of the tts characters that do not mesh well, or are even wholly incompatible with, my own. 

but i do expect, as a minimum, characters to behave more or less the way they behave in canon unless there is a clear reason for them to be different. i expect varian to be nerdy and chaotic and a bit of a disaster, for example. i expect adira to be aloof, blunt, and perhaps a touch arrogant. i expect cassandra to be ambitious and frustrated and prone to self-sabotage and envy. i expect lance to be laid back and eugene to be a bit vain. i expect the captain to be gruff and very tight-laced. and i expect frederic to act like a politician who is in control of his feelings but sort of cowardly at heart, because that’s how frederic acts in the show. 

i hold myself to these standards too. a ton of my editing process is “hm does this character really talk like this? is this how they would react to this situation?” and then going through and rewatching scenes or whole episodes and trying to find roughly analogous emotional beats or situations to sort of gauge whether i’m hitting the mark or not; it’s very difficult and i work hard on it and do not always succeed... and this does make me a bit picky about characterization in fics i’m reading, yeah, because it’s... always at the forefront of my mind. and then yes i post about it here, because this is the hyperfixation landfill where i dump my tts-adjacent thoughts. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

of course, you’re welcome to unfollow me if you do not enjoy reading what i post. it’s important to curate an online experience that you enjoy! if my general demeanor irritates you, you don’t need to inflict yourself with it.

[epicspheal]

Hello! Just popping by to ask about Calla! I've reread your oc post for the hundredth time now, and she just so interesting! Like what's her relationship with everyone and such. Not to mention she reminds me of Kipo in a way.( She seems the optimistic sort, not to mention insanely smart)

Also if you haven't, pls watch Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts. It's animated, but it has a good story and music. Majority poc cast is a bonus.

Hi there ihopethisendswell!

I have definitely watched Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts, although I need to finish it (after I get done with studying for the MCAT, that test is *shudders*). I can definitely see Calla reminding your of Kipo they do have some similarities (there’s also one other champion OC of mine that has similarities to another Kipo character) Definitely putting everything under the Keep Reading tag because this is long.

Her outgoing, friendly nature is also very much in part due to the fact that as child genius she didn’t really get a chance to spend time with children her age as she went to college at 8. So she’s been kind of lonely and thus always eager to make a new friend. She can be a little too blunt with her words, but she’s aware enough to know when she might have crossed a line and will apologize profusely afterwards

Obviously her closest relationship is with Hop. Calla actually lived in Wedgehurst and not Postwick but Hop spent a lot of time Wedgehurst (because that’s where the primary school). They became friends over the summer at the berry shop and pretty much became joined to the hip when Calla wasn’t away at Motostoke University doing her chemistry degree. Hop (being a budding science nerd himself) enjoyed hearing from her about what she was learning in college and he would share stuff about Pokemon that he learned from Leon’s college textbooks. The two also bonded from being lonely with Calla being isolated from people her age because of being a child genius and Hop was ostracized for being Leon’s brother (in the fact of the kids in Wedgehurst loved Leon, but they found Hop annoying and only pretended to care about Hop if he mentioned something about Leon coming home). Calla was the first kid he met to be interested in Hop as a person, and not as Leon’s little brother so their friendship means the absolute world to Hop. They balance each other out as Hop is known to be impulsive and patient whereas Calla is far more cautious and deliberate. You would think given those descriptions Hop is the Sword Hero and that Calla is Shield Hero but it’s actually the reverse. Throughout their journey Hop and Calla learned the value of the way the other acts. Hop learns to be a little less impulsive (as his impulsiveness combined with his tendency to get flustered cost him many battles). Calla learned that’s okay to make bold decisive moves without meticulously planning them out which helped her in the long run against tough opponents (such as Rose who has a steel type team that walled her poison types or Leon who has a team fast heavy hitters that even with poison set up could still absolutely maul her team given the chance to do so) Also I should note Calla is not a Victor/Gloria stand-in. Victor and Gloria very much exist in my “Pokemon canon” but they were some of the fake friends to Hop who secretly thought he was annoying. Basically Victor and Gloria in my universe are those Pokemon fans who hate Hop and find him annoying. :(

Speaking of Leon, Calla of course was a fan of him from the start. She did get a little upset with him constantly keeping her and Hop away from the berserk Dynamaxed Pokemon, thinking that he didn’t think they were capable of helping out. Which wasn’t the case it’s just and this going into some of my broader personal headcanons, Leon and his cohort (Piers, Sonia, Nessa, and Raihan) were at the mercy of a jerk Champion (my OC Jack, the last champion on that OC Post). He didn’t want to take away from their gym challenge like what to happen to his. Of course once the Darkest Day and Sordward/Shieldbert arcs are over Leon and Calla ended up working well together as fellow champions and friends. As I alluded to in my oneshot Midnight Snacks (shameless plug) Calla has a tendency to be a night owl and if she’s stressed she’ll call Leon over to one of the battle cafe’s to have pastries and chat. Leon loves listening to her science theories (and yes he actually understands her rants on chemistry and toxicology) and Calla loves having a cool older brother she never got (she’s an only child). They also end up as in-laws when Hop and Calla get married at 23. Leon is also very protective of her, giving her less responsibilities than Rose gave him and helped to warm the public to her as some of them didn’t take too kindly to her using Eternatus in her champion matches. 

But in terms of the adult she most looks up to, that’d be Sonia. Strong battler (unlike in canon, we get to see why Sonia used to be Leon’s rival in my personal Pokemon verse) and a smart scientist lady. Calla was immediately awestruck by Sonia and always enjoyed her time talking to Sonia helping her with her theory about the truth of the Darkest Day. Sonia, Hop and Calla end up being the science trio once the SwSh events come to a close. Sonia was the one to encourage Calla when she becomes 18 (and has now held the title of champion for 5 years) to go back and pursue her PhD in Toxicology giving the Galar region their first ever champion professor! If Leon is the big bro she always wanted, the Sonia is definitely the big sister she always wanted. 

As far as the league goes, Calla is pretty much on good terms with everyone not named Klara. Klara choosing the poison type as her go to because it wasn’t as  popular as other types and she thought she’d have no competition in that realm. As someone who is very much passionate about breaking the negative stereotypes of the poison typing, she found Klara’s reasoning to be absolutely insulting.

When it comes to the league, Calla in particular is close to Marnie and Bea. You can often find Calla, Marnie and Bea hanging out together shopping for clothes or eating pastries at a battle cafe. Gordie, Nessa and Calla frequently have competitions to see who can do the best backflips or the best splits. It did take Calla a bit to warm up to Bede at first given how he treated Hop and how he almost wrecked her the first two battles (if wasn’t for her Stunky she would’ve been wiped by psychic trainer Bede), but they are kind of like how the player is with Gladion in SM/USUM. Not friends but not enemies.

Calla has mixed feelings on Rose and Oleana. Rose actually gave her a scholarship to go to Motostoke University when she was 8 (her parents wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise) so she’s indebted to him (he saw her as he saw Bede, Oleana, Leon- talents that can help the future of Galar). And on a personal level Rose was never rude to her. Oleana also kind of took her under her wing because of them both being science gals. But seeing how badly they miscalculated everything really shook her to the core. 

As far as my other champion OCs go, Calla gets along with everyone but Jack (but then again no one gets along with Jack). Calla and Marsha have a particularly close bond as Marsha taught Calla how to cornrow her hair and play spades (Calla was not blessed with parents who knew how to cornrow...or play spades). Marsha is another big sis for her. Calla and Jabari bonded over being type specialists (Jabari is a water type specialist) and Jabari taught her how to rollerskate in exchange for Calla teaching him how to do cartwheels. Calla was of course very interested in meeting Valen (a talking robot who’s a skilled trainer? that’s a dream come true for her). They delight in battling each other and eating Alolan Pancakes.