#than use himself as a (literal) honey trap

[starcurtain]

Hey! I apologize if this question has been asked before since it seems like a pretty obvious one, but where do you think the idea of Aventurine being a sex slave came from? Other than the obvious factor of it being something fun for the fandom to mess around with, I mean.

It's something I kind of took for granted as being true before playing his quest, but after finishing it I realized there wasn't really any indication. The only thing I can really think of is his master's comments about him having a good body. Is there anything in his behavior you can think of that would lead to this conclusion if it wasn't a popular fan interpretation already/kind of just an easy conclusion to reach with a slave character?

(also kind of related but what do you think of the idea that he sleeps around/with his clients to make deals? he's obviously willing to sexualize himself with the boob window, but that doesn't necessarily mean he goes further.)

As far as I can tell, the idea that Aventurine was involved in sexual slavery comes from three (maybe four) places:

First, the comment from the master about Aventurine's appearance. People were holding this comment up as refutable proof that Aventurine was used in sexual slavery on top of being tossed into the Hunger Games; however, the response from other players on this interpretation, especially the Chinese side of the fandom, was very mixed, with a lot of people pointing out that the context in the game probably meant the slave master was talking about Aventurine's ability to attract attention from fans watching the literal Sigonian Hunger Games, rather than having a direct sexual-slavery connotation.

Second, the comment from Sparkle about stripping naked and getting on his knees for Sunday. This one has way more implication in English than I think it might for an Eastern audience, actually. In English, this pretty much sounds like Sparkle saying Aventurine trades sexual favors for success in his gambles. However, I suspect the original intention in Chinese was more about humiliation. Western audiences don't have as much history with honor-based prostration, i.e. accepting corporal humiliation as a form of reconciliation that Eastern audiences might be more familiar with. And in any case, Sparkle is Sparkle. She probably just went for the lowest blow she could think of here.

Third, the general assumption that if Sigonian slaves were being chained, branded, beaten, sent to death matches, etc., it seems logical that they would also be taken advantage of in other ways. I honestly think this is probably the fairest take--many, many real slaves around the world faced (and still face!) sexual abuse, so if slaves from Sigonia were treated so poorly you could make them fight to the death for entertainment, it stands to reason they were probably also not safe from other forms of assault. We also have no idea what happened to Kakavasha in any of the years between his being a tiny child fleeing the massacre and then being purchased as a slave as a late-teens-early-twenties person. That's a very long time for a child to have to survive on their own on an extremely hostile planet and not face risks of all kinds or end up needing to do unspeakable things to survive. So I think this is at least not that far-fetched, although it's important to say there's nothing in the game that directly confirms this.

And fourth: I read a tweet semi-recently that stated that one of the Chinese (or maybe it was Japanese) names for a quest Aventurine was involved in was actually a reference to a book about a teenage sexual assault survivor. However, when I tried to verify this myself, I couldn't find any quest Aventurine was in that was based on a book about sexual assault in either English, Chinese, or Japanese. It's possible I just missed something, but I'm taking this one with a bit of a grain of salt currently, since I can't confirm it personally.

Regarding your other question, about whether I think Aventurine sleeps around to make deals...

I definitely think he does not, for one major reason.

First, I will admit that Aventurine is definitely willing to use his appearance to his advantage. This is pretty obvious. He wears incredibly flashy clothes, baths himself in cologne, overloads on glittering golden jewels, and absolutely calls attention to his appearance when working with clients.

We see him actively doing this in his Moment Among the Stars video, where he is clearly using his looks as an equal tool (to his wealth), to daze his target.

It's not an accident that he says things like "Use me as you wish," with all the explicit connotations preserved. The implication is there. However, unless he was absolutely backed into a corner, I think that implication is all it will ever be.

The reason I think this is that the devs go out of their way to give Aventurine three fairly noticeable physical behaviors in his in-game scenes:

For one, he has some of the most closed off body language of any character in the game.

Aventurine's default conversation pose is arms crossed directly and tightly in front of himself. This is like "Defensive Body Language 101." By crossing your arms, you put a symbolic barrier between yourself and the person you're speaking to, and also ensure that your hands are up and available in case you actually need to physically defend yourself.

Virtually all of Aventurine's conversations take place from this stance, no matter who he is speaking to (from the Trailblazer all the way to Topaz). He deliberately closes his pose off and tightens up his silhouette, which just sends a glaring "Don't touch me" message.

This closing off is also blatantly apparent when you compare it to the deliberately open poses he strikes while trying to make himself seem accessible to others (like tempting clients) or seem powerful (to intimidate):

Complementing this habit of closing himself off is a second noticeable aspect of his body language: He frequently avoids eye contact to the point that he even holds conversations while entirely facing away from the person he's speaking to.

I might be a bit lenient and say maybe he's doing this to on purpose to be mysterious, whoo~~ But... in all honestly, he just does this with everyone, even with Ratio while trying to talk about an actual important issue (wanting to look into Acheron's real identity). Hell, even the fake Aventurine does it to himself!

We can even say that wearing the rose-tinted glasses in the first place is another intentional barrier, one Aventurine deliberately removes in specific moments to give people the (false) impression that he's "letting them in" to his circle:

Now, this might be a bit more complicated in Aventurine's case, because eye contact has a whole extra meaning when eyes are the defining trait of your species and come with particularly challenging racial stereotypes. So it may be that Aventurine is simply used to conducting conversation while looking away to minimize racial prejudice against his eyes' unique appearance.

However, I'd also argue that the devs deliberately turned his entire model away in cutscene after cutscene to create a clear sense of being inaccessible, unapproachable, and unwilling to engage in the physical intimacy of standing closely, directly facing, and staring at his conversation partners.

While he faces away, he controls both the figurative and the literal direction of conversation, forcing people to keep their eyes on him while he is free to move as he pleases. Over and over again, it just says "I want to be the one in control. I'm not afraid to show my back to you, but you are not welcome to come near me."

And, in fact, that's a third aspect of his character's body language that I am sure the devs did not include accidentally: More so than other characters, many of Aventurine's conversations are conducted from weirdly far distances. Like, half the time he's talking, he's standing all the way on the opposite side of the room!

This habit of speaking from a-larger-than-normal distance is apparent in the first scene with Himeko...

And then in just about every other conversation too:

The bubble is twenty feet in every direction.

Like yes, he does approach and have conversations like a normal person... sometimes... But it is significantly more noticeable with Aventurine than with other characters that he often conducts whole conversations--even with his allies--from a distance. Just genuinely weirdly far apart.

Leaving space for Gaiathra, I guess.

And it's because these significant decisions were made with Aventurine's in-game body language that, when he deliberately alters his own behavior, it is instantaneously noticeable.

In 2.0, he closes the distance, the glasses come off, and he gets directly up in the Trailblazer's face.

It's uncomfortable not just because the player is suddenly being loomed over, but because this behavior has already been subconsciously established for the player as out of character for Aventurine.

The barriers the character himself was putting up are deliberately stripped away so that he can use physicality and demanding eye contact to intimidate his target. He has to reverse his own normal body language in order to come across as domineering (and, I guess if you're into that, appealing in a domineering manner).

And ummmm, just a tiny aside here because I can't resist:

This does mean that when the game goes out of its way to demonstrate Aventurine altering his own normal habit of distant and defensive body language, it is absolutely intentional.

Yes, this is a Ratiorine post in disguise. There literally isn't any other character in the game that Aventurine is shown being comfortable standing so close to and interacting with in this manner. This doesn't occur in every one of their scenes, but Ratio is the only character that this happens with repeatedly. It's not an accident that the devs literally added "They were walking side-by-side" as flavor text.

But look, I'll be fair: There's a great example of this in Aventurine's scene with Acheron too, where he closes the distance and attempts to make eye contact with her--seeking her guidance and closeness--and she is actually the one stepping away, speaking with her back turned, demonstrating her power and control (and issues with connection!) in that scene.

Anyway, this was a whole longggg tangent into analyzing Aventurine's body language, but my point is that, overall, the devs deliberately adjusted his model's actions in-game to give the impression of a person who clearly wants to be in control of every interaction he has with other people, who insists on distance over intimacy, and whose stances and habits suggest that he is significantly less accessible and open than his "Use me as you wish" motto might suggest.

Long story longer, I think that there is almost zero chance Aventurine is willingly ceding control over himself or the actions expected of him to anyone he isn't 100% comfortable with, and I think that using physical intimacy of any kind would be an absolute last resort for him. Frankly, he comes across as more likely to shoot himself in the foot than let someone he doesn't trust lay hands on him.

To me, he reads very much as "You may look, but you may not touch."

[blackberries45]

Two for One

(Beetlejuice x reader) np used

Warnings: smut

Notes: per usual, my editing skills lack. this is just smutty smut bc I wanted to. I don't know where it came from but it got some thumbs up so here we are 😆 thank you for reading 🤗

💜💚🖤💜💚🖤💜💚🖤

Everything happened so fast. You weren't sure how you even ended up in this literal position, but damn if it wouldn’t be a favorite after this. Usually he shoved you onto the bed, which was fine with you. This however was different. You could tell he had something up one of his black and white striped sleeves.

Your bedroom’s brick wall was cool to the touch. It felt like a relief against your palms, as they were starting to burn like the rest of your skin. Beej had you pinned facing it. One hand on top of yours up by your face, fingers intertwined. His other hand on your hip, pulling you back against him and steading you so you wouldn't feel like you would fall. He of course would never let that happen.

You felt his weight shift behind you slightly as he moved one of his boots to kick your legs out a bit more wide. “Atta girl” he moaned, dropping his forehead against the back of your head.The wider stance helped him deepen his reach. He immediately took full advantage, feeling you clench down on him from hearing the praise. Moving to the side of your head, he started biting and sucking your earlobe. Your head tipped forward and was lightly grazing the wall with each movement. Tiny gasps could be heard escaping from you with each thrusting motion.

He let your ear drop from his teeth and roughly whispered “I'm gonna to need you to close your eyes now” You were so lost in the rhythm of the movements that you almost didn't have the capacity to answer him. “My eyes are already closed, Beej” He grazed his lips back and forth across your cheek a few times. “I mean, keep them shut. I'm going to have to concentrate real hard on somethin’ and I don't need you to screw it up by freaking out.” he quickly and lovingly kissed your cheek, realizing his words came out harsh.

His movements hadn't slowed down but you knew he was patiently waiting for you to respond. “Babes?” He started kissing your neck to get your concentration to shift back to him again. He knew your head was swimming. “Ok ok. I won’t open my eyes. But you have to touch me soon. I need you.” That last part almost had him spent right then and there. He loved when you got desperate for him. But he pulled himself together and started to concentrate. He'd been thinking about trying this for awhile. He could pull alot of tricks, but this was double the effort.

The air started to crackle more than it did with just Beetlejuice in the room. It was almost thick. You swear you heard something…no…felt something… like someone was between your legs.You instinctively started to look down. “What the..?” Beej quickly let go of your hand and brought his to your throat, forcing you to look up at the ceiling. You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t now wide eyed and your heart wasn’t pounding as you stared upwards.

The first lick bubbled up a scream, but Beej felt it in your throat and your mouth was instantly sewn shut. “Shhh, honey. Daddy needs to concentrate.” He put his head down between your neck and shoulder, biting the area his lips landed on, causing you to moan what felt like hard enough that it vibrated through your skull, trapped behind your sewn mouth.

Whoever was under you was using their cold fingers to part your lips and get more pressure on your clit with their tongue. They circled and they went back and forth. It was madness how good it felt from being in this position. One of their hands went to your thigh to steady themselves. Was that a ring?? Your eyes started fluttering open and shut as you couldn't decide which sensation to grind into. The sucking and licking below felt delicious and caused the fire in the depths of you to rage. Beej too was starting to make tired whines against your neck. Fuck. You could feel him starting to get more sloppy as he thrusted in and out of you. You were getting close and so was he.

The anonymous being between your legs changed their attention. Making a disappointed whine, you scrunched your eyebrows together. The wait to be touched again was shorter than you expected.

The licks were at first back on you, rimming back and forth where Beetlejuice was pumping into you. The sensation felt better than you could have imagined and you sank into it. You noticed Beej swallowing hard next to your throat. You now felt that the tongue below had left you and was only touching your entrance when it licked up. Holy shit. Was it licking Beej? You felt his mouth start to fall open as his panting increased, slowly turning into a groan.

Beej started getting desperate. He latched onto your neck like he was burrowing a hole into it. He was swirling his tongue and sucking all while whoever below was lapping your juices off of his dick. You could hear them making ungodly sounds and feel them back away enough to lick their lips. The thought of someone else licking on Beej oddly turned you on. You were sure now you were going to burst into flame and you decided to let it consume you.

The violent way you suddenly came caused your legs to give. With the few brain cells Beetlejuice had left, he quickly put his hands behind your thighs so you were almost sitting in his hands. He let your stitches disappear so he could fully hear your scream as he crashed full force inside of you.

The indivisible stranger must have disappeared, though you couldn’t say when, because you no longer felt their tongue or their hand on your leg. Beej flopped the two of you backwards onto your bed. It took several minutes of panting before you spoke.

“Who or what did you conjure to do that?” His laugh was the same one that would crash around you like thunder when he was being an asshole or thought he was clever.

He rolled over to face you, a cigarette between his lips that had appeared out of nowhere, flopped as he spoke. “That was me, babes. That's why I had to concentrate.” Your eyes widened once again and your mouth dropped open as he removed the cigarette with long fingers and blew out the smoke. “I had to split myself in a way. And may I just say, you taste like a fucking queen.”

The smile was one of the most devilish you'd ever seen across his stupid face. You rolled your head back and looked at the ceiling again. It took a few seconds of getting up the courage, but finally you quietly asked, “Can we do that again sometime? But maybe you let me watch?”

This time it was his mouth that fell open. “Any time, honey.”

[howi99]

From the Nest 19

Jaune: Forever fall? *Pensive* I've heard it was quite the sight, from what my teacher told me. *Sigh* Never could see the place myself.

Ruby: *gulping down a cookie* Why not?

Jaune: *sigh, slumping down with a defeated look on his face* I'm such a Grimm magnet, it would be like running in a bear's den covered in honey...

Yang: *arms behind her head, her chair dangerously leaning back* And yet, you survived in the wild for years. How?

Jaune: *shrug* Traps.

Yang: Traps? *Chuckle* What, did you booby trap the entire forest?

Jaune: Yeah, why? *Scratch his head* Don't y'all do the same?

Yang: *blink* No, not really- *lean back a bit too much, losing her balance* Oh crap!

Jaune: *Quickly grab Yang's arm before she falls to the ground* And stop doing that! You're going to hurt yourself at this rate.

Yang: *giving an apologetic smile* Sorry, bad habits.

Weiss: *glaring at Jaune from the other side of the table* ...

Jaune: *locking eyes with her, smiling* Can't keep my beautiful visage out of your mind?

Weiss: *looking away* Tsk...

Blake: So what's the plan? Are we going or?

Jaune: You mean to forever fall? *Pensive* I guess with everyone being there, it shouldn't be a problem.

Ren: If it's such a problem, i can use my semblance to mask both our aura.

Jaune: ... *Wiping an invisible tear* Where were you all my life?

Ren: *shrug* Surviving in the wilderness, like you. Then joining Sanctum with Nora.

Jaune: Were there a lot of guys like you two? You know...

Nora: *nod* Yeah, but not as much as we thought. *Shrug* Apparently there's a bunch of bandits who keep the villages safe from the Grimm. I think they are famous or something.

Yang: *curious* Really? What's their names?

Nora: *pensive* I think they're called the... Branwen tribe...? I think?

Blake: They are helping villages? That's nice.

Ren: They are even doing a better job than the huntsmen. Since they had a change of leadership, they've been trying to clear their names.

Yang: (A change in leadership, huh? That must be her they are talking about)

Weiss: *pensive* The Branwen tribe... *Frown* Jaune, you said your tribe interacted with the white fang before.

Jaune: *sweating* W-well yeah, but-

Weiss: And from what i remember, the Branwen tribe was known to attack SDC mining operations in collaboration with the White Fang.

Jaune: *confused* Mining operations? *Horror creeping on his face, completely forgetting Yang was there* You mean those forced labor camps were yours!?

Weiss: *also confused* What are you talking about? Everyone there is paid a salary and they are working willingly! We are not monst-

Jaune: *slamming his fist on the table* They tortured faunus kids, marking them like cattle! *Breathing out, feeling nauseous* Fucking hell, no wonder your family was targeted by them... *Looking at Weiss* Do you have any idea how many unmarked grave there was in each of those camps!?

Weiss: *Freeze* ... What-

Jaune: *throwing his hands in the air* Hundreds! *Get up, turning around angrily* And here i was feeling bad for you and your family... *Grit his teeth* Fucking butchers... *Leave*

Weiss: *looking down, sweating heavily* That can't be true...

Everyone: *silently staying around* ...

Pyrrha: *coming back from the kitchen with a sandwich* ... Where's Jaune? And Yang?

_ _ _

Jaune: *trying to light himself a cigarette, his hands shaking from rage* DAMMIT ALL! *Throwing the cigarette on the ground, stomping it angrily* FUCK FUCK FUCK! *Kicking the wall* FUCK!

Yang: Jaune-

Jaune: *not noticing her* It's not like she's responsible for what her father did! Fucking hypocritical bitch that i am, it's literally the same for me!

Yang: *her arm crossed* Jaune!

Jaune: *noticing Yang* What!?

Yang: We need to talk.

Jaune: No we don't.

Yang: *grabbing his arm firmly* You're a Branwen, aren't you?

Jaune: *sarcastic scoff* Wow, figured that just now?

Yang: *frown* I had my suspicions for a while, i'm not dumb.

Jaune: ... *Sigh* Fine, we'll talk later.

Yang: *shake her head* No, now-

Jaune: *cutting her* Trust me, you want to talk to me later. In the meantime, could you tell Weiss that i am sorry and didn't meant those last parts?

Yang: ... *Let go of his arm* Fine. *Point her finger at him* But you better answer every question i have.

Jaune: I will.

Yang: ... *Turn around, leaving him alone*

Jaune: ... *Sigh* What a mess.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 19 - 25 (+ epilogue)

hey! whoever thought this day would come! before the chapter, i just wanted to say some thank yous to you all. i am so grateful to each person who has read this series! it was such an undertaking, being over 300K and all, but we did it! we're at the end! i would not have been able to do this without y'all's support and love for characters like honey, bea, the litchton townies, and our boys (who kind of took on a life of their own throughout this story). i want to give a special shoutout to the person who first submitted this idea of tz going feral for a small town girl. you started something that has literally changed my life– before this, i had never completed a book. i would always get bored towards the end and let it die. but now, we've finished it! i'll also give a special shoutout to all the people who helped me out while reading this– looking at pics on pinterest, reading the rough drafts, even just talking about it with me... your influence helped me immensely. i will specifically mention two: cappy and mattias anon, who have left comment after comment and put up with my texts that make everything about stg. they are the real troopers.

i will not wax any more poetics. here it is: the final chapter (+ epilogue) of stg!

85:90 – TREVOR

“Trevvy, baby,” Honey whispers. She traces his nose with a featherlight touch until Trevor wakes. She’s laying in bed next to him, wearing the t-shirt Bea made of him, and Trevor turns into her chest.

It’s so warm there. Trevor groans as the soreness from yesterday seeps back into his bones. He didn’t know that farming would be so much hard work. He’s more sore than he was after his first NTDP practice, which is saying something. 

“I can’t believe I thought I’d be a construction worker if I wasn’t in hockey,” Trevor complains into the space between Honey’s boobs.

She hums and cards her fingers through his hair, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “I know, baby. You’re built to play hockey and be pretty, not carry heavy things and use your hands.”

Trevor frowns. “I’m okay at using my hands,” he whines. She loves to insult him, even though she’s been known to fall apart on his fingers. He pushes his fingers past Honey’s waistband and goes to prove his point.

“Trevor, we don’t have time,” Honey chastises. 

“Honey,” Trevor patronizes. “We’re not even doing anything today. All we have to do is go to the fruit stand. We have time for me to finger you.”

“You slept ‘til lunch,” Honey says. “I want to get up, I’ve been so bored.”

“I’ll fix it,” Trevor tells her. He kisses her chest, then realizes that he’s kissing the picture of himself on her chest, and pulls back. He picks himself up and moves.

“You just realize that you kissed yourself?” Honey asks.

Trevor looks at her out of the side of his eyes before laying a kiss on the curve of her jaw. “Don’t be mean,” he says.

“Just teasing you, needy boy,” Honey replies. 

She rolls onto her back as Trevor pushes her into the mattress and traps her. His kisses become more consistent, landing in time with her pulse. Trevor won’t even pretend like he’s not the needy boy she claims. “We’ve only got a week, Honey,” Trevor says. “Not even. I wanna fuck you every day to make up for all the time I’ll be away.”

Honey sighs. “Don’t remind me, T.”

“‘ll make you forget,” Trevor mumbles, biting into Honey’s neck and lathing his tongue over the smooth skin. 

“Make me lunch after, too?” Honey asks.

“Mhm,” Trevor agrees. He snaps the band of Honey’s shorts against her hip. “I hate these shorts. We should burn them.”

Honey frowns and wiggles underneath Trevor. “I love them. They’re my favorite.”

“They’re Thomas’ old boxers,” Trevor replies. He pushes them down Honey’s legs, baring her lower half. Once the boxers are around her ankles, Trevor removes them and tosses them far, far away. “Don’t think I didn’t pick that up when you told me they belonged to an old boyfriend. You’ve only had one other than me and I hate him.”

“They’re comfortable and they’re barely even his,” Honey fights back. “I’ve had them for six years. They were brand new when I borrowed them.”

“‘Borrowed,’” Trevor parrots back. “Forever?”

“A fitting price to pay,” Honey says. “You jealous I’m wearing another man’s boxers?”

“Yes,” Trevor admits earnestly. “I want you to wear my boxers to sleep.”

“What will you wear?”

“Nothing.”

Honey snorts. “Lucky me.”

Trevor circles her clit with the pads of his fingers, moving methodically. He breathes in deep, nose nestled in Honey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Honey sighs lightly, humming out a thanks. She lifts her leg and wraps it over Trevor’s hip.

He replaces his fingertips with his thumb and continues circling, swiping the pad of his middle finger through her slick. Her chest rises and falls against his and Honey’s arms circle Trevor’s shoulders. He smiles into her skin and changes the angle of his hand. The heel of his palm covers her swollen bundle of nerves and his first knuckle disappears into her core, suddenly surrounded by warmth and her tight walls.

The sun is shining into Honey’s room, which casts a nice light on her body. Trevor just wishes that she wasn’t wearing a shirt with his face on it. His t-shirt self is staring at him and it’s making him uncomfortable. 

“You need to take your shirt off,” Trevor says.

“No,” Honey drawls. “So unfair. You already told me to take my shorts off because you didn’t like those. You can’t make me take my shirt off because you don’t like it either. Plus, you said that you’d be the naked one, not me.”

“We should both be naked.”

“We can both get naked after you make me come,” Honey bargains. She nudges Trevor’s chin and kisses his lips when he lifts his face. She pecks again and grins. “I’ll spit in your mouth, if you want.”

Trevor flinches back, shocked to his core. “What?” he demands. 

Honey cackles, throwing her head back into the pillow. “Gotcha. You really fell for that.”

“Fuck off,” Trevor groans. “I didn’t know you were that kinky, Honey.” He fits his finger all the way inside of her and curls it, tickling the gummy walls that squeeze him so well.

She clicks her tongue. “There are a lot of things I like that you don’t know about.”

That piques Trevor’s interest. “Tell me,” he says. 

“Not today,” Honey laughs. “I’ve got to keep some secrets to keep you on your toes.”

Trevor whines. “Not fair.”

“I’m thinking I’ll reveal them to you when you’re all the way in Anaheim and I’m still here,” Honey continues. Her hands run down Trevor’s back, then back up his spine. 

He shivers and brings his ring finger to her entrance, taking his time as he fucks into her hole. The two digits flex and twist inside of her, trying to coax the secrets from her mouth now rather than later. 

“That way you’ll get so frustrated over not being able to touch me,” Honey says. “And you’ll regret being so far away, won’t you?”

“When I play in Raleigh, I am going to keep you up all night,” Trevor threatens in a low voice.

“That’s assuming I come,” Honey tells him.

That’s what she said. Trevor lifts his head and eyes his girlfriend.

She hits his shoulder. “Do not fucking say that’s what she said right now, I know you want to.”

Trevor chuckles and lazily connects his lips with Honey’s instead. His fingers scissor inside of her, stretching her entrance until he can push a third past the rim. 

They make out as the minutes tick by. Honey isn’t as concerned with being “late” anymore, it seems. Trevor was right; they’re not doing anything today. He doesn’t know what she was talking about– the fruit stand will be open until the sun goes down. 

Joan told him all about her schedule while they worked on the farm yesterday. She sets up the stand when the store opens at 7, then she packs up once the sun sets. It’s a long day for her, but she gets her best sales on Mondays because of the stand, so she doesn’t mind. Plus, she gets to catch up with people in town and lounge, reading books or completing sudokus while her husband continues to work at the farm. It’s practically a day off work, in Joan’s eyes.

She truly put Trevor to work. He was there for about three hours, picking blackberries and grapes off the vines, lugging cantaloupes from their place resting against the ground to the back of Joan’s wagon that she’d offered to Trevor. He plucked limes, lemons, and peaches from their respective trees. He refused to touch the strawberry plants, lest he saw Honey last night, so Joan had worked on that section of the farm. She’d also picked pears. 

It was nice to hang out on the farm and get to know the lady. She tried to give him some money for his work, but Trevor had waved her off. She’d let him and Earl take that ugly couch from her back porch for free. It was a fair trade. 

Now, the couch sits above Earl’s garage. He’d been surprisingly nimble and strong for an old man. Trevor had gotten winded walking up the stairs before Earl did, but he was on the back end of the couch, so most of the weight was on him anyway. Gravity, and all that. Trevor refuses to be beaten by an old man. 

When he’d complained about being winded while Earl was breathing evenly, Honey had laughed and scratched his back. She told him not to worry, that Earl had lots of experience with manual labor– forty years of it at least– and Trevor shouldn’t feel put out that he was more out of shape than an elderly man. He realized only after that Honey didn’t know why he was hanging out with Earl, but she didn’t ask. If she had, he would’ve told her that he was helping at the hardware store. The lie probably wouldn’t have been believable. Trevor doesn’t even know if the hardware store is open on the weekends– it probably isn’t. Nothing is.

His bicep aches a bit as his fingers work inside of Honey. Her tongue is dainty as it licks into Trevor’s mouth, then retreats, teasing him. He’s still sore, but he’s determined to make Honey come on his fingers. Her hips have started moving against his palm, grinding on his fingers. Trevor lets her.

“Look at you, taking what you need,” Trevor says. He bites his bottom lip and rakes his eyes over Honey’s figure. She’s still in his shirt, so he can’t see the flesh on her chest, but he can see the way her tits heave under the fabric. He can see the way her nipples protrude and rub against the cotton. His eyes land on her neck, watching the column flex and bob as she gasps and speeds up, frantically fucking herself on his fingers. 

A spark passes behind Trevor’s eyes. 

She likes it when I touch her there, Trevor remembers. He hasn’t touched Honey’s neck while they were fucking… ever? Has he? No specific moments come to mind.

She might want to withhold her kinks from him until he’s far away, too far away to touch her– which he knows she’s doing so that she can hear him whine and lament being so far away, because she wants to hear him ramble on about missing her– but Trevor knows this one. 

His fingers squeeze Honey’s waist, pressing into the soft skin before leaving it. His hand traces up her front sensually. Finally, Trevor curls his fingers around her throat. 

Honey’s resulting hum is high-pitched, but confused. Her eyelids lift in a flash, pupils fixing on Trevor’s face, and he would be concerned if not for the frenzied movement that is starting to send an ache through his wrist. 

“I know you like that,” Trevor whispers. He noses Honey’s cheek. “I remember the sound you made when I first kissed you and put my hand right here.” He moves his entire hand quickly, like a pinch, squeezing Honey’s neck for a second then letting go. “I bet you like getting all breathless, huh?”

Honey takes a huge breath in through her nose, head rolling back and revealing all of her throat to Trevor.

A smile crosses his face. “That’s my girl,” Trevor coos. “Come, baby.” He tightens his grip for a few seconds longer, watching Honey tremble. “Come all over my fingers and then we can start our day.”

“Tighter,” Honey breathes out. “Not for too long.”

“Okay,” Trevor agrees, his voice practically inaudible. He obeys, his fingertips curling into her windpipe. The rush of accomplishment doesn’t pass through Trevor because he completes the action of choking Honey, but rather because of the way she relaxes into the touch and lets it happen. Her eyes close again and her face is impassive and serene, mouth open in a quiet moan. That is a huge win for Trevor. When she bears down on his fingers and they overlap each other uncomfortably, Trevor feels the same rush he gets after he scores an OT goal. Honey probably wouldn’t appreciate a celly from him after she finishes coming, but the instinct is there. Trevor loosens his grip on her neck and lets her go, kissing the places where his fingertips were.

Honey snuggles into his side when he draws his fingers, covered in her come, out of her body. The moment is nice and comfortable, but only for a second before Trevor wipes his fingers on his own face adorning her shirt.

“Trevor,” Honey scoffs, rolling away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. She holds the hem of her shirt away from her body and looks down at it. “You ruined your pretty face, Princess Diana.”

“I think you like that shirt more than you like me,” Trevor tells her.

“Hmm, probably.” Honey stands and walks to her laundry hamper, pulling the shirt over her head like she’s unwrapping a present.

Trevor faux-gasps. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Trevor, I love you so much more.’”

“And you are supposed to refrain from wiping cum on my clothes.” Honey plants her hands on her hips. 

Trevor makes himself comfortable on the bed and lays a hand on his stomach, the other cradling the back of his head. He licks his lips. She’s nakey.

Honey rolls her eyes. “This is the problem with you wanting me to be naked all the time,” she scolds. “We will never get anything done.”

“We could get a few things done, I bet,” Trevor replies, snickering when he says it.

Honey doesn’t even crack a smile. She’s back to business. “Would you put some big boy clothes on and wash your hands while I shower?” she asks. “Then you can make me that lunch that you promised.”

Trevor pouts, his bottom lip jutting out as far as he can push it. 

Honey shakes her head fondly and turns away, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her. 

Trevor lounges in bed for an extra two minutes before swinging his legs forward and getting up. He dresses himself in some short Ducks-branded shorts and a plain black t-shirt. Instead of barging into Honey’s bathroom and and washing his hands there– after peeking behind her shower curtain, of course– Trevor goes downstairs and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. It’s then that he opens her fridge and surveys the options there. There’s plenty for him to cook with, but he’s not confident he’ll prepare any of it particularly well. He’s been known to burn things. Jamie used to get on him about that all the time when they lived together. It’s actually why they climbed onto the roof to eat dinner the first time, so that they could escape the burning smell in the kitchen from Trevor’s charred chicken dinner.

He settles on quesadillas. Honey has chicken that he can throw in a tortilla with cheese, plus some peppers that he can cut up and throw in the saucepan if she doesn’t want to eat them raw. It’ll be a nice meal. 

Trevor burns the first quesadilla. It isn’t a surprise. He’ll eat that one. Honestly, Trevor doesn’t mind the burnt food. He’s gotten used to eating overcooked food.

Honey leaves the shower as he’s finishing up her quesadilla and throwing it on a plate. She comes downstairs and hugs him, standing behind him and gliding her hands underneath his shirt to touch his stomach. 

“Do you want me to sauté these peppers?” Trevor asks.

Honey raises her head and pops up on her tiptoes, looking over his shoulder at the pile of sliced peppers on a plate. “No,” she decides. She pecks the back of Trevor’s neck. “I’ll get some ranch.”

Trevor automatically feels colder when she removes herself from his personal space to grab a half-used bottle of ranch from her fridge. He moves each plate to Honey’s coffee table, taking two trips so he doesn’t accidentally drop any food on the floor. 

Honey sits on the couch, pulling a blanket around her shoulders and crossing her legs. Trevor sits next to her and they start to eat their lunch together. Honey doesn’t have a TV in her living room– come to think of it, Trevor doesn’t think she has a TV at all. He’s never watched television in this house. Anyway– if Honey did have a TV, he’d put something on in the background. Instead, he listens to the rustle of the wind in the trees and the chirping of the birds.

You can’t hear the traffic from Honey’s house. You can’t even hear her neighbors, not that there are any close enough to walk over and ask for a cup of sugar. They’d have to drive. 

“Do you like being alone?” Trevor asks. The question is blunt as it falls from his mouth and Trevor realizes that it sounds rude. He doesn’t mean to say it like that and goes to apologize.

Honey shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. 

“Why?” He’s surprised she didn’t give him a second look for how his first question came out, so Trevor makes a concentrated effort to make this one sound more curious.

She waves a green pepper slice in the air. “It’s nice. I’m not really, like, alone. You know that. I’ve got my friends from Litchton, I’ve got Bea, I’ve got myself, I’m good.”

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Trevor says.

“Being alone?” Honey clarifies. “Hm. I think you could. You just haven’t had the experience with it. I struggled a lot my first few months in Litchton. So did Bea. We were used to a huge city. Charlotte has almost a million people and Litchton has two thousand. Until I moved here, I’d never been in a community that small. Even Myers Park had… 3,500 kids, I think.”

“Myers Park?”

“My high school.” Honey pops the rest of the pepper in her mouth and chews after dipping it in ranch. “I think you’re just used to a big city, babe. It’s, what, 25 miles from Anaheim to LA?”

“Yeah, close enough,” Trevor replies. “26.”

Honey glares at him for a moment. “‘Close enough,’” she mocks. “I was right on the money. Anyway, LA has millions of people and so many things to do. You’re used to that. I think you adapted well to living in Litchton this summer, but you also had six friends here. If it had just been you and– who’s your Bea?”

Trevor shrugs. “Jack, probably. We’re not as close as you two, but he and I are probably the closest.”

Honey laughs. “Okay, imagine you and Jack move to Litchton, just you two. I’m not even here. It’s just you and Jack.” She picks up another pepper. “What do you do?”

“I kill myself within a week,” Trevor deadpans. 

Honey squints at him, pursing her lips judgmentally.

Trevor leans into her space, draping himself over her lap. “I’m kidding,” he tells her. “But I still don’t know if I’d be able to do it.”

Honey brushes his hair out with her fingers. “I guess not. You’re too extroverted. My LA boy.”

“You still hate that I live in California?” Trevor teases.

Honey hums, affirming that she does while she nods. 

“I’ll convince you to like it when you visit.”

“If I visit,” Honey replies. “The hatred for Cali runs deep in my bones, Trevor.”

Trevor rolls his eyes and sits up again, polishing off the rest of his quesadilla. He always eats faster than Honey does. “Are we going to the fruit stand now?”

“Yurr,” Honey confirms. She holds up her quesadilla. “Can I take this in your car?”

Trevor nods. He goes upstairs to grab his keys, wallet, and Honey’s bag. While he was gone, Honey had moved all of their dishes to the sink. 

“I’ll do them later,” she tells Trevor when she joins him by the door.

The drive into town is quiet. Trevor’s hair is getting too long. Honey likes when the windows are down, so they’re down, but the wind is whipping his hair into his face and distracting Trevor from the road. He needs to schedule a hair appointment when he goes back to Bedford to hang out with his family before preseason starts.

They walk hand in hand to the fruit stand. There’s some commotion near the church, which is just visible from the grocery store, and Trevor watches the scene from the corner of his eye. There is a large group of people mingling at the steps of the front entrance– the entrance that Bea never uses, since the parking lot is behind the church, so they just enter through the back door. The front of the church is much more regal than the back. Picturesque.

Honey shops around, handing Trevor piece of fruit after piece of fruit. He bags them all, until the strap over his shoulder is heavy and the mesh fabric is bursting. Trevor tells Honey that they can’t fit anymore, which she frowns at, but concedes. She gives one last longing look at the blackberry cartons before they go to pay Joan.

Joan makes small talk with the duo, telling Honey about how hard Trevor worked the previous day and how helpful it was. 

“I wish I could bring him on every week,” Joan says. “Normally, my husband helps me, but he was able to start prepping the fields for our winter vegetables. We’re seeding tomorrow.”

“It’s a shame he had the idea so late in the summer,” Honey replies.

“I’m sore as can be, Joan,” Trevor complains. “I don’t know if I could do it every week.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel on Sunday. Would you like to come help me out again? I’d appreciate it.” Joan has a soft smile on her face while she waits for Trevor to respond. He almost feels bad, but there’s no reason for him to. He can’t help that his time is up and he has to decline.

“We’re actually headed out this Saturday,” Trevor says. “So this is the last time you’ll see me for a while.”

Joan’s smile fades. “Well, isn’t that a shame. We’ve enjoyed having you in Litchton this summer, Trevor.”

Trevor’s heart thumps. That’s so nice– Joan expressing that the people in Litchton have accepted him as one of their own and liked having him here. “I’ll be back when I can.”

“No one who comes to Litchton can go very far for very long,” Joan confirms. “I tried when I was y’all’s age, but we all come back eventually.”

“Mr. California,” Honey adds jokingly.

Trevor’s retort disappears when he’s distracted by a cheer near the church. He turns his head, as do the other two, and they watch as a bride and groom burst through the door. The crowd raises their hands and whoops as they descend the steps and the groom dips his bride, kissing her.

Joan chuckles. “The new Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt Hensley,” she says. “Aren’t they just darlin’? Lila’s dress is gorgeous.”

“I didn’t know their wedding was on a Monday,” Honey says. “I guess that makes sense. Didn’t Wyatt’s parents have to come from Texas?”

“Oklahoma,” Joan corrects.

Trevor is still watching the happy couple. The woman looks like Honey. Well, they have the same hair.

“So close,” Honey sighs. “I’m always one off today. Alright– I’ll see you next week, Joan.” She bumps Trevor’s arm. “You gonna say goodbye?”

“We should do that,” Trevor tells her, staring as Wyatt and Lila parade through the group of people towards a car parked on the street.

Honey follows his gaze. “Do what?” she asks.

“Get married,” Trevor explains. The silence that follows is jarring. He turns to Honey to find her staring at him, expression nothing short of aghast. “What?”

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Say goodbye to Joan, baby.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor says. He looks at Joan and holds his hand out for her to shake. “It was nice to meet you, Joan. Thank you for all the fruit all summer.”

“Thank you for all of the entertainment,” Joan replies. “I’m disappointed I won’t see how this conversation plays out. Have a safe trip home, Trevor.”

“Bye, Joan.” He moves Honey’s bag to his other shoulder and takes her hand. They start to walk toward the car. “So that’s a no to getting married?” he asks after they’ve walked a few hundred feet.

Honey takes another deep breath and holds it briefly before exhaling loudly. “We met three months ago, Trevor. We are not getting married anytime soon.”

Trevor frowns. “Darn.” 

Honey scoffs, starting to laugh. “God, you’re weird. This is why I’m always telling you to think before you speak.”

Trevor exaggerates an eye roll, starting to laugh to himself. It really was a crazy thing to say. “So you don’t want to marry me?” he demands, pretending to be upset. “So you hate me.”

Honey laughs louder. “Stop,” she tells him. “We are not having this conversation now. Plus, we’re too young to get married. Maybe if you were a military guy and I was a ‘ring-by-spring’ girl, we could talk about that, but I’m not getting married for at least four more years. How ‘bout you see if you can stand me that long before you ask again?”

Trevor grumbles under his breath, but really, he’s pleased. Four years, and then he can propose? No problem– with the way hockey season passes, the years will go by in a flash. He’s pretty certain they’ll make it.

86:90 – HONEY

They’re two hours from closing time when Honey decides that she can no longer ignore Bea’s attitude. The girl seems to be in a funk and Honey has a feeling that she knows why. Bea hasn’t been willing to listen to Honey’s opinion before now, but things could be different now that she’s moping around like a wet cat. 

Her attitude isn’t actually all that bad. Aside from not wanting to do any actual work and showing up two hours late, Bea’s been mostly normal. The only difference is that she’s quiet and lazier than usual. 

Honey finds her laying on the beanbag chairs in the cozier section of their store. There’s no one in the Nook right now and Ada is sitting behind the cash register, doing a crossword. Honey is free to lay with Bea until they hear the twinkle of the bell attached to the front door. 

“What’s wrong?” Honey asks. She sits on the bag next to Bea, looking down at the girl.

Bea shifts her eyes to the side, not bothering to move her head to look at Honey. “You know what’s wrong,” she answers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Honey reaches over and fixes Bea’s shirt sleeve.

The girl throws her arm over her face and hides in the crook of her elbow. “I don’t know.”

Honey nods to herself and slides down the beanbag chair until she’s reclining. Her head rests against the bottom shelf of the bookcase and her feet are planted against the ground, knees toward the sky. She reaches her hand above her head and pulls a random book from the shelves, setting it against her thighs and opening it. She reads 38 pages of the historical fiction novel, set in 1580s England, before Bea speaks again.

“I feel like a stupid moron-idiot,” Bea nearly growls. The ‘t’ on ‘idiot’ is sharp coming from her mouth. She throws her arms down by her sides and Honey has to press her lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping. Bea looks like she just got petrificus totalus’ed. “I don’t like it here!”

“Okay, well, you’re not a stupid moron-idiot,” Honey tells her. “I’d say so if you were.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bea snaps. She narrows her eyes at Honey in annoyance. She sighs. “It’s just like… what the hell am I doing, you know?”

Honey prompts Bea to go on with a single hummed note. She closes the book she was reading.

Bea lifts her hands and talks with them while she explains– or tries to. “I don’t, like, ugh. Obviously, I know this isn’t– but I feel like…” she pauses, her fingers curling into half-formed fists. She whines in the back of her throat, frustrated. “This is so fucking stupid. I can’t even fucking explain myself.”

“Watch your language,” Honey murmurs, throwing a look over at Ada. The old woman hasn’t looked up yet, but if Bea continues to lean into this frustration, she’ll only start to swear more often and at a higher volume. 

Bea covers her face with flat palms and scrubs them up and down her skin. “I have never been the person to care, you know? Yeah, I go out with people, I have my fun, I have my friends, but I don’t ca-a-are,” she exaggerates the last word and shakes her hands out in front of her in time with it. Honey imagines she’s holding Christmas bells and has to stifle another giggle. 

This is serious. Not the time for an intrusive imagination.

“And now I’m out here caring! What is with that?” Bea exclaims.

“Well, I think it’s a good sign,” Honey says. “At least we know you have the capacity for romantic feelings now.”

Bea huffs indignantly. “We’ve always known that,” she sneers.

“Having a crush and actually loving someone are two different things,” Honey points out.

“Fuck off,” Bea replies.

Honey allows herself to giggle this time and shrugs. “I don’t know, Bea. I mean, it’s the first time you’ve felt like this. Do you really want to give it up?”

“No, I’m not sure, Honey, and that’s the fucking problem!”

The words explode out of Bea’s mouth and Honey physically draws her head back in surprise. “Wow,” she says.

Bea covers her face again. “I’m sorry. That was unnecessary. I’m just…”

“Frustrated,” Honey supplies. Bea shakes her head. “Confused?”

“Annoyed,” Bea corrects. She rolls her eyes, most likely at herself, and goes boneless on the beanbag. “I am practically at war with myself and it’s making me angry. So I would say that I’m more annoyed than frustrated or confused.”

“What are you fighting over?” Honey asks.

“I need to break up with him but I don’t want to break up with him,” Bea states. “That’s literally it.”

“Okay, so don’t break up with him if you don’t want to,” Honey says. “You guys can work through it. Quinn would be ecstatic to be all domestic and partner-y with you outside of the summer.”

Bea groans out loud. “I know,” she drawls. “But you don’t get it. I don’t expect you to, and I can’t explain it well, but I need to break up with him.”

“Why?”

“He’s not in my future,” Bea says. 

Honey blinks. It’s a simple and cryptic statement. Since when could Bea tell the future?

“It’s not fortune-telling, it’s logic,” Bea continues once she sees the look on Honey’s face. “I don’t see this ending positively if we continue dating outside of Litchton. He’ll go to hockey, I’ll stay here, our communication will diminish because he’s busy, I’ll get touchy and bitchy because I want attention, and then it all blows up and we break up and it’s a thousand times worse than ending it here.”

“How do you know that will happen?” Honey asks. “It sounds like a bunch of what-ifs to me.”

“I’m not emotionally mature enough for a relationship where my boyfriend ignores me eight or nine months of the year and then is all over me for the other three. The whiplash will be insane. If he played in Raleigh, or we lived closer to Vancouver, it would be different.”

It once again hits Honey that Bea has thought this through and won’t change her mind. She says everything so resolutely and has an answer for each of Honey’s remarks. Honey’s words can’t penetrate the iron armor of Bea’s decision and Bea’s explanations can’t seem to wade through the foggy confusion in Honey’s mind. They’re so different.

“I don’t know,” Bea resigns with a shrug. “Our lives are so different and he’s so far away. I think it would have been nice, and Quinn is damn near perfect, but my future isn’t with Quinn.” She shakes her head, breathing a laugh out of her nose in a self-deprecating way. “Is your future with Trevor?”

“Yes,” Honey decides. She means it.

Bea blinks and recoils in surprise, much like Honey did when Bea raised her voice. “Your future is with Trevor,” she repeats. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Honey replies. She thinks about how he genuinely suggested getting married yesterday, which was absurd, but didn’t feel wrong. When she was with Thomas, she knew that there was going to be someone after him. He wasn’t the end-all, be-all. Her gut is telling her that there’s nothing after Trevor. “Yeah. He’s– yes. My future is with Trevor.”

Bea looks at Honey until a prickle of discomfort starts to rise on Honey’s neck. She breathes out in relief when Bea looks away. She couldn’t read the look in Bea’s eyes, which increased the discomfort tenfold. Honey did not like what she saw. 

And she doesn’t think Bea’s eventual reaction matches the stare.

“Good for you,” Bea says. Her words seem shallow, brimming with surface-level congratulations. The layer of joy for Honey seems very thin. Honey doubts it’s because Bea disagrees with Honey’s decision. She thinks it’s because Bea still doesn’t know how to feel about her own.

The bell rings and Honey hears Ada greet a customer. She doesn’t want to leave Bea like this, but one of them has to work, and Bea doesn’t seem up for it. Honey understands that feeling better now.

She takes Bea’s hand and squeezes it tightly, then lets go. 

The encounter with her best friend stays on her mind long after they’ve closed the store. She invites Bea to come back to her place for dinner, which the girl accepts, but then they end up talking a little bit more and not making dinner at all. 

It’s hard to talk about this. Bea tries to explain her stance a little bit more, but she can’t find the words and Honey finds it harder and harder to read her mind with each suggestion that Bea turns down. Honey is doing her best to fill in the gaps, but for the first time in their lives, she and Bea are not even close to being on the same page. Usually, they can find some middle ground. This time, Honey feels like they’re throwing paper airplanes at each other over a canyon.

Bea leaves her house without eating dinner, after standing up and shaking out her body in an almost-violent wave that has Honey furrowing her eyebrows. “It seems like this is going against every instinct you have,” Honey wants to say, but Bea says “It’s now or never” and leaves before Honey can get the words out. 

Overall, it hasn’t been a great day. She feels drained right alongside Bea, trying to share the load as best she can without fully understanding Bea’s plight. It’s terrible.

So when Trevor shows up at Honey’s door half an hour after Bea leaves, his presence is a welcome distraction from the weight on her shoulders.

There’s still weight. Of course there is. The difference is that this replacement weight is physical– Honey is being crushed under the weight of her boyfriend as she tries to read her book in the dying summer light. She wants to finish this one before she goes back and borrows the one she started this afternoon while sitting with Bea. Honey isn’t usually one for period pieces– that’s Bea’s thing– but this one seemed cool.

Trevor might be sleeping, for all Honey knows. She’s twirling a strand of his hair around her fingers, other hand holding her book in the air, and Trevor is breathing evenly in her ear. His mouth is pressed against her jaw and their legs are intertwined. His arms are wrapped around her middle, hips squarely in line with hers. 

He’d sat on the counter while Honey made her own dinner, refusing his offer to cook for her since she already has a bad taste in her mouth from Bea’s problems. He had stolen some of her food off of the plate while she ate, talking all about how, today, he and the guys had to break down the makeshift rink they built for the summer. He and Quinn had done most of the work building the rink and he and Quinn had done most of the work tearing it down. The most Luke, Jack, and Cole did was stack the wood for a bonfire. Trevor knows that Earl won’t take it back.

His impression of the elderly man had been surprisingly spot-on. “Boy, you better not’a come up in here tryin’ to return old wood,” Trevor had mocked in a thick southern accent. “I’m not a bank! I don’t give out loans.”

Trevor had done the dishes this time after Honey was finished eating. She’d reclined on the couch while he did so, head resting on the throw pillow propped against the arm of the couch, and cracked her book open.

When Trevor joined her, he’d crawled under her arms and kissed her lips before tucking his head to the side. That’s how they got to where they are now. Honey only has about fifty pages left of her book, but she has a feeling she won’t make it to the end. Her boyfriend, in the last five pages or so that she’s read, has started nuzzling her neck. 

“You’re distracting me,” Honey says. She turns to the next page, then back because she realized that she skimmed the last paragraph and didn’t actually read it. It’s further proof that Trevor is taking her attention away from the book in her hands.

“I’m bored,” Trevor mumbles against Honey’s skin. “Let’s make out.”

Honey pretends to think about it for a minute, humming and looking up to the ceiling. 

Trevor does his best to convince her, kissing and licking up her neck until he makes it to her lips. “Puh-lease,” he begs in a sarcastic voice, pouting at Honey. He looks like a puppy asking for human food and Honey laughs.

She sets her bookmark between the pages and closes the book, stretching to place it on the coffee table. Trevor doesn’t let her move much. Honey cocks her head to the side, matching Trevor’s pout. She cradles his face.

Trevor’s pout breaks into a smile and he leans forward, catching her bottom lip and claiming it. The kiss starts soft and insistent, barely demanding anything from Honey at all. Between kisses, he touches her sides and sends sparks up her body. Her lips part and Trevor’s tongue explores Honey’s mouth. She breaks from him and laughs when he tries to roll his ‘R’ like he’s in Spanish class, but inside her mouth. He must have thought it would make a fun movement of their tongues, but Honey has to push him away for all of five minutes while she catches her breath.

He can’t kiss her again for another ten without more giggles spewing from Honey’s body. 

Trevor nips at Honey’s bottom lip playfully, then her own teeth tug gently on his lower lip in return. 

Honey is pliant beneath Trevor, the kiss both intimate and lazy and filthy and plundering. She could stay in his arms, pressed into the cushions of her comfy couch and lost in the drugging sweetness of his kisses, forever. The rest of the world fell away when she was kissing him, until Honey’s front door swings open and hits the wall next to it.

The couple separates, although Trevor is still laying on top of Honey. He lifts himself up just enough to look over the back of the couch, at the person attached to the pair of stomping feet approaching them. Honey doesn’t have to look to know who it is. She recognizes Bea’s footsteps well.

“Get out,” Bea announces in a grave, serious, and stern voice.

She really did it, then, Honey thinks to herself, equal parts impressed and sad for Bea. It’s no wonder she doesn’t want Trevor here, especially not on top of Honey and making out with her like a bad reminder.

Honey places her hands on Trevor’s chest and starts to push him off, but has to shift her focus when Trevor starts to fight back, like he always does.

“What stick got shoved up your ass today?” Trevor snaps. 

“Get out,” Bea repeats.

“Trevor,” Honey jumps in, tapping his collarbone insistently.

Trevor eyes fall, not so far as to find Honey, but just to Bea’s midsection. “What is that?” he asks. “You brought a toy with you? Is that the stupid cow that Quinn wouldn’t let Jack cuddle when he found it earlier?”

Honey grinds her teeth together and covers Trevor’s mouth with both of her hands. “Shut up,” she hisses. 

His words have done enough damage. Bea pulls the coffee table out of the way and steps up to the couch, whacking Trevor with Moo-Moo and the flat of her other hand over and over, trying to make solid contact with his twisting body. He’s laughing, because clearly he thinks this is a joke, but Honey doesn’t find it funny at all. Neither does Bea, whose eyes are red, puffy and seething with ire and a fresh layer of mist.

“I hate you,” she tells him with absolute conviction. “You have absolutely no empathy for anyone ever and if you paid attention for more than two seconds, you’d realize that today is not the day to be a cunt to me, Trevor!”

“You’re fucking insane,” Trevor responds, curling up into a ball and hiding behind Honey as she sits up.

Honey catches Bea’s hands and holds them tightly. “Stop,” Honey says. “Stop. I know you’re upset, but stop it.”

“He started it,” Bea deflects tearfully.

“Baby, you told him to get out instead of asking him to leave,” Honey replies, tilting her head knowingly at Bea.

The girl’s bottom lip wobbles and her chest starts to lurch. “I don’t want him here,” she says through gulping breaths. “I need you to stay with me. Alone.”

Trevor has noticed Bea’s state and reacts with the appropriate awkwardness. “Shit,” he acknowledges. 

Bea squeezes her eyes shut and sobs, curling in on herself.

Honey stands and wraps her in a hug, one arm wrapped around Bea’s ribcage and other hand cradling the back of her head. Bea cries into her shoulder, arms locked around Honey’s body. She’s still clutching Moo-Moo’s ear between her fingers, a nervous habit that Honey hasn’t seen since they were in their tweens. 

“Trev, sweetheart, you should go,” Honey says softly. “Please.”

He rises from the couch and touches the base of Honey’s spine. “Sorry, Bea,” he tries. Honey can see that he wants to pat her on the arm, but she shakes her head and he refrains. “I hope you’re okay.”

It’s a really awkward goodbye from Trevor, understandably so, and Honey feels terrible as Bea continues to cry. Honey gets her upstairs and into her bed, which they’ve shared for plenty of Honey’s freakouts, but it feels so much different this time.

Honey positions Moo-Moo so that he’s right under Bea’s nose and his fur is touching her lips. She brushes Bea’s hair out of her face and wipes a little bit of the mascara off of her eyelids. “I’m sorry you had to do this,” Honey whispers. “It sucks.”

Bea hiccups. “It’s for the best,” she manages shakily. “I’d be ten times worse if this happened after… everything I tried to explain earlier.”

Long distance, Quinn’s laser-focus on hockey, Bea’s self-admitted need for attention, the way all of those things will compound until they hate each other and breakup in a much bigger blowout. Those are the bits Honey understood. It’s how Bea got from one point to the other, with all of those assumptions, that Honey didn’t quite get. 

“He thought I would change my mind because you and Trevor are staying together,” Bea adds in a miserable voice. 

Honey feels a flare of anger rise up in her throat. They’ve experienced this before– people always assume that she and Bea do the same thing, together, all the time. They’re best friends, but they’re not clones of each other. It’s their shared pet peeve– which doesn’t actually disprove the statement that they’re the same.

“He said he’d buy me an apartment in Vancouver.” A fresh round of sobs leaves Bea and she wipes them on the top of Moo-Moo’s head. “It’s like– I can’t uproot my life just for him,” she says desperately, as if she has to explain it to Honey. She feels the same way Bea does. Moving across the country with her boyfriend of three months (unofficially) would be a mistake. “He didn’t get it. He didn’t get it.”

Honey closes her eyes and touches her forehead to Bea’s. 

“I explained it to him at the beginning of the summer and he agreed,” Bea reminds herself more than Honey. “And I can’t, I can’t–”

“I know,” Honey murmurs. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Bea heaves in Honey’s arms and soaks her spare pillow with tears. Honey watches her, stroking her cheek and her arm and wiping her running nose with tissue after tissue. It’s hard. Bea used to do the same thing for her, countless times over, and Honey feels dreadful. Bea shouldn’t ever look like this or feel like this. Honey would do anything to change it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Bea takes a shaky breath, then another. “It felt like he didn’t understand me,” Bea explains in a far-away voice with a mournful frown. “I thought he knew.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Honey sighs. “He was just hoping something would change.”

“Then he didn’t listen when I told him nothing would,” Bea sniffs. She averts her gaze from Honey’s eyes, down to the space between them. She sniffs again. “Is that Puppy?”

Honey looks down. Her monkey is between them, left on the middle of the bed when Trevor made a scene of returning him to his rightful owner. He did not return the Ducks shirt that magically appeared in her dresser drawer in Charlotte. “Yeah.”

Bea scrunches her face in confusion and breathes out either a laugh or a fresh set of tears– but she’s cried dry, so nothing appears. “Did he become sentient and walk here?” she implores, disbelieving. 

Honey almost laughs in relief at the change in subject. She knows Bea well enough to know that she’s deflecting and moving on because she doesn’t want to cry over her breakup anymore. They’ll come back to it another day, when she’s processed it a bit more. “Trevor and I went to see my parents.”

Bea is silent, mouth open in pure betrayal. “What the hell else have you been keeping from me?” she wails dramatically. “Are you moving to Cali?”

“No,” Honey exclaims. She laughs out loud. “I am not moving to California.”

“Good, ‘cause the West Coast is not the best coast,” Bea asserts stubbornly. 

“Have you eaten?” Honey asks.

Bea’s expression immediately turns into a scowl. She hates when Honey asks that, taking it as a personal attack and an insinuation that she can’t take care of herself. “No.”

At least she’s honest. “Stay right there,” Honey says. “I’m going to go make you something quick. You need to eat.” She kicks off the covers and shoves her feet into her slippers, padding across the floor.

“Make me a water bottle too,” Bea bosses in a grumble. “I feel like a raisin.”

She’ll be okay. Honey is sure of it. Even if Bea isn’t, Honey will be around.

87:90 – TREVOR

i’m sorry i attacked u. that was mean. can i come over later to apologize for real? Bea asks through text message. 

Trevor can’t shake the image of Bea crying in Honey’s arms from his mind. He still feels guilty about how he had provoked her and completely misread the room. It’s their thing, making fun of each other and being each other’s number one hater. Trevor hadn’t known that Bea would be so touchy yesterday.

Honey is coming over at 7 to help me pack

i know. i’ll drive her there and u can drive her to work toma

You won’t stay over?

Bea doesn’t respond to that one– not for another few hours. She texts once Trevor is finishing up his last load of laundry. He’s choosing which clothes he’ll keep out for the next few days when his phone vibrates.

i’ll explain later.

It’s a resolute answer that confuses Trevor. He moves his laundry into a massive pile on his bed so that he actually gets it done before he goes to bed, then leaves the room. He’ll do it when Honey gets here. He wants to prolong their time together, so he’ll fold and she’ll pack. She likes organizational things like that. Three weeks ago, the same day she accidentally called him her boyfriend, Trevor watched Honey take all of her books off of her bookshelves and reorder them accordingly. He doesn’t know her system. He does know, however, that she was very content with the repetitive action. There was a little smile on her face the whole time.

Trevor walks downstairs and finds the main level empty. He goes down the next flight and finds the boys. None of them have even started to pack, which is annoying because they still have to clean the rental house on Friday. At this rate, it’ll fall to Trevor to clean because all the guys are trying to locate their things. Cole will be trying to save his clothes from being stolen by the Hughes brothers, who just scoop up all the laundry as if it’s theirs. Trevor supposes that’s what happens when they share the Michigan house– he wouldn’t be surprised if the spare bedroom had been turned into a joint-closet in the time since he’s visited.

Luke and Cole are playing ping-pong and yelling at each other. Jack and Quinn are laying across the two couches, each with a book in their hand. Trevor almost wants to tease them for coexisting so peacefully, but he plops down on the recliner instead. He snatches the remote and turns the TV on, enduring Quinn’s side eye as he disturbs the quiet surrounding the seating area. 

“The girls are coming over in a bit,” Trevor announces to the group. 

He doesn’t miss how Jack’s eyes lift towards Quinn. Or how Quinn shifts on the couch. Or how the ping pong ball goes clattering to the floor and Cole sings, “Another point for me.”

“Honey’s going to help me pack,” Trevor adds. “You guys should really start packing, too.”

“Don’t be a killjoy, Z. We’ll get to it,” Jack says. “We’re enjoying the time we have left.”

Trevor pauses, gawking at the irony of the words. “You’re the one who didn’t want to come here in the first place,” he points out.

Jack just shrugs and flicks to the next page in his book. He adjusts the baseball cap on his head. “I changed my mind.”

“So you want to come back next year?” Trevor asks.

Jack curls his lip. “No. Not for the whole summer. I’d like to spend my free time in the house I own, thanks.” He reaches his leg toward the other sofa blindly and kicks Quinn. “Right, Q-Ball?”

“Yeah,” Quinn says shortly.

Trevor hasn’t heard his voice sound as curt as this in a long time. He leaves it alone, turning back to face the television and focusing on the episode of The Office that seemed to magically appear, as if this TV has memorized Jack’s watching habits. 

Luke and Cole sit on the big couch after their game of ping-pong ends. Luke puts his arms over the back of it, stretching his long limbs out over Quinn’s shoulders. Cole kicks his feet up on the coffee table and laughs at most of the jokes coming from the television over the next two episodes.

The day passed by quickly with all the laundry Trevor did. It doesn’t surprise him when he hears the front door open in the distance and two pairs of footsteps crossing the floor above them. 

“Hello?” Honey calls, stopping halfway down the basement steps and waving. “Nobody greets their guests at the door anymore?”

Trevor’s face splits with a smile and he laughs. He stands and walks toward Honey. Cole immediately takes his seat in the recliner.

“Hey, baby,” Trevor says. He climbs the first few steps and kisses Honey briefly. “You ready to pack up some laundry?”

“Is it ready to pack or is it in a pile on your bed?” Honey responds.

Trevor doesn’t answer, just looking at Honey knowingly.

She rolls her eyes and pats his chest firmly. “You’re the worst. I’ll go start folding while you talk to Bea.” Honey looks around Trevor’s body. “You okay, Q?”

Quinn hums. Trevor catches the tail end of a shrug when he looks in the boy’s direction. 

“Ask me how I am,” Cole chirps.

Honey’s thoughtful bite of her lower lip after Quinn’s response disappears after Cole’s input. She chuckles. “How are you, Cole?”

“Never better,” Cole brags. “Just won another game of ping-pong against the big guy.”

“By two points,” Luke jumps in. “It wasn’t that impressive. We were neck-in-neck for ages.”

“Well, you’ll get him next time, Lukey. Good job, Cole.” Honey slides her hand into Trevor’s. “C’mon, Trev. We’ve got chores to do.”

“Will you guys be here for long?” Jack asks. “Tell Bea to come down.”

“She has stuff to do tonight,” Honey lies. She tries to keep her face impassive, but Trevor knows that Bea never has anything to do unless she’s hanging out with Quinn. 

The fact that Quinn hasn’t moved at all from the couch since Bea got here is suspicious. 

Oh my God, they broke up, Trevor realizes suddenly. Oh my God. He stares at Quinn. The dark circles under his eyes make sense now.

“Come on, Trev.” Honey tugs his hand and leads him upstairs. Trevor is still looking at Quinn, scrutinizing him until Honey drags Trevor out of sight.

“What happened?” Trevor asks. He pads after Honey, entering the kitchen.

“Talk to Bea,” Honey replies. She brings a hand to Trevor’s jaw and kisses him softly on the lips. “I have to go do the laundry you left for me while you do. You’re a terrible boyfriend.”

“I’m not,” Trevor whines. “I wanted to fold them together.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Honey tells him, only a slight air of sarcasm in her voice. “But you have to make up with Bea. I’ll meet you upstairs when you’re done. It shouldn’t take long.”

Trevor doesn’t dare sigh out loud, not when Bea or Honey could hear him. He agreed to this, but the thing is, Bea doesn’t need to apologize to him. It wasn’t a big deal. Now that Trevor thinks she and Quinn broke up, he thinks that he should be apologizing. Not that he will. Unless he feels like it in the moment.

He turns away from the stairs and looks for Bea, scanning the room. She’s nowhere to be found. Surely Honey would’ve brought him in here because this is where Bea is. Maybe she chickened out and couldn’t stand to be in the house, so she left.

“Over here,” she says, lifting her arm into the air. She’s laying on the couch in the living room, the one that they rarely ever use. 

Trevor rounds the couch and finds Bea laying there in a tank top and jean shorts, very reminiscent of Honey’s style. He supposes it makes sense– she probably stayed the night with Honey last night. Her hair is up in a bun, also like Honey. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Bea echos. She rolls partially off of the sofa and reaches for her bag in a half-assed way, waving her arm four times before snagging one of the handles and pulling it into her space. “I brought you a treat.”

Trevor sits on the ottoman near the fireplace. “Oh, yeah? What kind of treat?”

“Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.” Bea pulls a tupperware out of the bag and underhand-tosses it to Trevor. “I need the container back when you guys leave. It’s from the Nook.”

“I’ll wash it tonight and give it to Honey so she can bring it back to work tomorrow,” Trevor says. “You didn’t have to make me cookies.”

“Well, I’m bad at apologies, so I wanted to make a gesture,” Bea says. 

Trevor feels sheepish all of a sudden. “You don’t have to apologize either,” he tells her with a grimace. “I didn’t realize you were having a bad day and I probably shouldn’t have poked the bear.”

Bea talks over him as he stumbles through the last part of his statement. “I do have to apologize. It seems like you’re going to be around for a long time, Trevor, and I don’t want us to be at odds.” 

A blossom of pride blooms in Trevor’s chest when Bea admits to him being around for a long time– absolutely he’ll be around for a long time. His relationship with Honey won’t be ending anytime soon. 

“It wasn’t cool of me to hit you and yell at you,” Bea continues. “You definitely weren’t nice, but I wasn’t any better.”

“That’s kind of what we do, though,” Trevor says. “Bicker.”

“Not like that.” Bea shakes her head. “I should’ve had more control over myself, so I’m sorry. I know you didn’t really mean to make a bad day worse.”

“What happened?” Trevor asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Bea takes a deep breath and looks away from Trevor. She stares at the ceiling and a thick silence settles between them. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Bea glares at him out of the side of her eye. That’s back to normal. “Obviously I’m going to tell you Trevor, but I am once again asking you to wait two seconds.”

Trevor looks at his fingernails and picks at his cuticles. “It’s been two seconds,” he grumbles. 

“You are so lucky that Honey is patient with you, I would be swinging on you in a second if I was her,” Bea argues back.

“Right back at’cha,” Trevor bites.

Bea pauses. She eyes him, then looks back to the ceiling. “We broke up,” Bea says with a shrug. “It didn’t go like I wanted it to. It didn’t go like Quinn wanted it to. It was a bad day.”

Trevor doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Bea looks at him, an incredulous squint adorning her face. Then, she snorts and laughs. “Okay,” she says. “Don’t go getting all sappy on me, Trevor.”

“Breakups suck,” Trevor says with a shrug. He’s not being sappy. He’s relating to Bea.

“I might’ve yelled at you for your shit empathy yesterday, but you really don’t have to do all that,” Bea snickers. “I don’t really want you to feel for me, Trevor. I’m happy with our relationship as is. You fight with me like Cece and Trix do.”

“Are you saying I’m a girl?” Trevor asks, making a joke of her sentence. It’s pretty nice, actually, to be compared to one of Bea’s siblings. It makes sense, considering how they fight. It’s how Trevor fights with Griffin and Ava.

Bea taps her chin and purses her lips. “Well, if the glass slipper fits.”

Trevor makes a face at Bea and stands up. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I am.” She sticks her tongue out at Trevor and sits up, grabbing her bag and hoisting herself off of the comfy furniture. 

“Are you leaving?” Trevor asks when Bea follows him to the steps, toward the front of the house.

“Yep,” Bea confirms. “I can’t very well… stay the night, or anything.” She laughs self-deprecatingly and shifts her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though. We’re supposed to get dinner altogether. Did Honey tell you that yet?”

“No,” Trevor says.

“Well, we are. Tell the boys. We’re going to Mexico and having tacos and margs.” Bea opens the door and slips through. “Have fun with Honey.”

Trevor nods and heads upstairs, walking down the hallway into his bedroom. When he pushes the door open, the pile of laundry on his bed has shrunk drastically, thanks to Honey’s dutiful work. 

“How many loads did you do?” Honey asks as soon as he walks inside. 

“Like three,” Trevor says. “Three and a half.”

“I can’t believe you brought that many clothes for one summer,” Honey says. “I don’t know if I have enough clothes for three and a half loads. Maybe if I was doing my delicates and whites and colors separate.”

Trevor hums and takes his spot next to Honey. When she bends forward to grab another shirt to fold, he slaps her ass playfully. She stole a pair of his boxers, to Trevor’s delight. 

Honey rolls her eyes. “Can we get your laundry done before you start getting distracted by my body?”

Trevor scrunches up his face and pretends to cry, wrapping his arms around Honey’s shoulders and burying his face in her hair. 

“Stop being dramatic,” Honey chastizes. “Pick up a shirt and fold it or I’m going to make you do this all by yourself.”

Trevor is quick to get a move on after that. He fully believes Honey will make him do the chores all by himself. It’s not that he’s incapable, but he wants to do it together. It’s embarrassing how much Trevor likes the idea of folding laundry together, like they share a house and do their laundry together. Maybe next summer they will. Trevor could move in with Honey if she lets him. If she says no, Earl offered the apartment above his garage on Sunday, which might be the closest Trevor will ever come to hearing Earl outright tell Trevor that he likes him. 

He’s two for two. Both Earl and Honey did everything they could to remain grumpy and detached when it comes to Trevor, and look at how that changed. He’s just impressively charismatic.

When Honey asks what Trevor is smiling about, and he repeats his thoughts to her, she snaps a t-shirt at his thigh. 

She loves him. Definitely.

88:90 – HONEY

“Would you get us another round, Luce?” Honey asks, looking up at the dark-haired girl who has worked at Mexico since her family bought the building in her childhood. She clasps her hands together in praying fashion. “Then we’ll be done. I promise.”

“Scout’s honor, Luce,” Bea vows with a big smile. 

“You guys have already been overserved,” Lucía replies with a frown. “You know I don’t care, but my dad worries.”

“Quinn is driving,” Bea says. “Don’t worry. Tell Carlos that he doesn’t have to worry about us and that his Mole Poblano is perfect. He should never change the recipe.”

Lucía laughs. “Yeah, he’ll love that. You know how to work the system. So we’ve got beers for the boys now? Or are y’all still pounding margs like the girls?”

“I’m stickin’ with a marg, dude,” Cole declares. He runs his tongue over the salt rim and smacks his lips, smiling widely at their waitress. 

The Hughes boys decide to switch it up to a beer, as does Trevor. A nice, refreshing beer with a little lime doesn’t seem bad to Honey right now, but she’ll probably have to drink beer at the surprise party. Earl was in charge of the drinks and swore he’d buy enough for everyone they invited, but Honey isn’t certain he knows just how much beer the town can drink during a party. Luckily, Sarah is bringing her trailer-bar in case Earl underestimates things. At least there will be one experienced drinker and party-planner in Trevor’s backyard.

Bea orders another strawberry margarita, Cole orders a normal lime one, and Honey orders a mango-flavored marg, but her mind is elsewhere. The ladies swore on Tuesday that they have planned enough parties in their time to set this one up without Honey’s supervision. 

There are so many things that could go wrong. The alcohol was supposed to take the edge off. Honey wishes she was at the house and she’d left the dinner to Bea. That was the original plan, before the breakup happened on Tuesday. Now, Bea isn’t really that comfortable without Honey acting as a buffer between her and the boys. There’s definitely an awkwardness between her and Quinn, although they’re both trying to ignore it. Honey has seen Quinn watching Bea. Bea isn’t oblivious, either.

Other than the glances between Bea and Quinn, the dinner has been pretty good. The boys seem to believe that it’s their last hoo-rah together and they’re making the most of it. When she’s not worried about how things are going at the rental house, Honey is laughing at Jack’s stupid jokes or at the other boys’ comebacks and quips.

‘One more round’ turns into two before they leave. It’s normal for a Mexico trip to end in a few more drinks than expected, especially as the weekend approaches. By the time they’re walking out the door, the sun has started setting, and Sarah has texted Honey that everyone is ready for them to come back.

She and Bea are holding in their excitement well on the drive back to the house, sharing looks with each other and trying not to spill the secret at the last second.

“What the hell,” Quinn wonders under his breath, sounding confused as he pulls into the driveway and sees that there are more than a few cars parked in front of the house. 

The crowd of people in front of the house should be a dead giveaway to what’s going on. There are tons of familiar faces in the crowd, an impressive group considering Honey only had this idea on Tuesday morning while the ladies were in their knitting circle. 

Bea is bouncing in her seat, jumping out of the car as Quinn puts it into park. Honey exits after her and grins, hoping to find excitement and surprise on her friends’ faces. 

“Surprise!” shouts the crowd around the front of the house. 

“Welcome to your going away party!” Vera adds. She’s right at the front of the crowd with the other ladies, holding gift bags with the boys’ hockey numbers on them. “Come and get your presents.”

They’re all sufficiently buzzed, but Honey is glad to see that they can all pass a sobriety test; the boys don’t stumble or stagger at all on their way towards their respective present-presenter.

It’s really cute how Cole hugs Vera and Trevor accepts a kiss on the cheek from Scarlett. Luke hugs Gillian with one arm and looks over her shoulder at Emma-Kate while he does, sending her a playfully inquisitive look that Honey assumes has to do with the gift. Quinn accepts his bag from Sacha and Jack thanks Rosalind for his. It’s sweet– the ladies had dropped their current projects to create something for each boy, having only two days to craft a knitted item. She knows what each of them are and it’s a wonder that the ladies’ hands aren’t sore and laden with blisters and calluses. 

Vera knitted a sweater for Cole, her favorite of the boys. She asked Honey to see what colors Cole’s hockey team is, so she ended up knitting a navy sweater with red cuffs and a red hem to try and stay on theme as best she could. It was so precious.

Trevor got a sweater too, although his is a cable-knit conglomeration of all of the leftover half-skeins Scarlett has amassed over the past year. The colors change without warning and don’t follow a specific pattern, but Trevor is delighted with it. Honey snorts when he pulls it on over his clothes then and there. Of course he does, even though the temperature is in the high 70s. It’s warm and he’s out here wearing a sweater– maybe if they’re still out partying at two in the morning, it’ll pay off. 

The Hughes boys got beanies, since half of the pictures that came up when Honey looked them up for the ladies featured them walking through hockey arenas in suits and knitted toques. Quinn’s is dark green with a blue brim and Honey notices his tiny, quirked smile as he examines it. He hugs Sacha and thanks her again before tucking the hat into the pocket of his shorts.

Jack and Luke’s beanies nearly match, since each lady except Scarlett tried to match each boys’ team colors. They’re both black and white, although Jack’s is striped and Luke’s is a solid black with a firetruck red rim. There’s a patch on the brim of Luke’s that he seems particularly amused by. It’s black with white letters and a red heart– Honey can’t read what it says– but Emma-Kate is snickering to herself with her tongue poking between her teeth. It must have been her idea. Luke’s eyes tilt up to look up at her and he chuckles, shaking his head. Jack pulls his beanie on, just like Trevor did with his sweater, and Luke places his back in the gift bag. 

The party lingers in the front for a little while longer, with the boys talking to people in the crowd as Honey and Bea (and Earl) walk around the house into the backyard. It looks gorgeous– there are ladders leaning against the side of the house, which Honey assumed were used to hang the fairy lights that are twinkling along the balcony of the house. There are also poles sticking up in the yard, right at the edge of the concrete pad that the boys used as their rink, which allow fairy lights to freefall against the sky like a canopy of stars. 

Honey is glad that she dressed up today in her black, ribbed tank top and long, red boho skirt. There’s music playing through a speaker that Sarah brought with her and Honey wants to dance. The cicadas are out and singing along with the music, trying to screech over the lyrics. 

Bea also dressed up. She’s wearing a white bodysuit that ties in the back with a ruffly, dandelion-colored gingham skirt. She did her hair during her lunch break at the Nook, curling the strands into loose waves that make her look like she belongs on the beach. They need to get a picture.

Earl is stoking the bonfire in the pit that the boys made at the beginning of the summer, so the girls bother him to take their photo for a couple of minutes before he relents. They pose under the lights and hug each other, giggling when Bea turns her head and smushes her lips into Honey’s cheek. 

It’s then that the boys manage to migrate into the backyard. While other guests are heading towards the snack and drink table, or the bonfire, the guys are barreling into Honey and Bea’s photos. Jack grabs Bea’s waist and throws her over his shoulder, sticking his tongue out at the camera. Earl snaps a picture as Bea shrieks and laughs.

After minutes of wrangling, and convincing the boys to really smile, they get a couple of decent pictures together. Luke’s arm is thrown over Honey’s shoulder and Trevor’s arm is around her waist, holding her so tightly that their hips are touching.

Earl eventually gives up and hands the phone back to Bea, saying he’s not a photographer and he expects to be paid if they want any more pictures. Honey thinks he just wants to get back to the fire, which is every man’s happy place, it seems. There’s definitely a dichotomy here. So many of the men and husbands that came along to this party are mingling around the fire with their beer bottles in hand, while the women are all around. It makes Honey laugh, to be honest.

Trevor sticks by her side the whole night. Honey tells him that he can go hang out with Cole or dance around with Jack, but Trevor wraps his index finger around her pinkie and takes a sip from his beer instead. 

They talk with the ladies and with Joan, then with the guys from the Scruffy’s band. Honey challenges Andrew, the bass player, to a game of pool in the basement of the rental house. She still doesn’t win against him– maybe 2025 will be the year that she finally hustles Andrew. Arn, the lead singer of the band, takes her place and promises to “show her how it’s done,” which makes Honey roll her eyes and “hardy-har” at him. She and Trevor go back outside and join Bea around the bonfire.

The party started pretty late for most residents of Litchton. Honey and Bea didn’t meet up with the guys until after the Nook closed for the night, then they’d had about four drinks over two-ish hours, and then they came to the party. A lot of the older people from town, like Ada, have left the going away party with a final well-wish and a wave. Ada even offered to open the store tomorrow morning, so that Bea doesn’t have to leave early if she doesn’t want to. Bea had laughed and said she wouldn’t say no to that, but that she’ll have to make up for all the late starts during the school year.

They started with maybe fifty people, and that’s a generous estimate, but now they’re down to twenty or so. Sarah and Ethan are packing up the trailer bar for the night, but there’s plenty of beer leftover. Tyler ran out to go relieve the babysitter, while Jessie wanted to hang around a bit and talk to some of her old high school acquaintances that Honey has gotten to know over the years. Those four have probably been the oldest people at the party in the last half-hour.

Luke and Emma-Kate are chatting under the covered porch, feet in the hot tub. Jack and Cole are on the dance floor with a couple of Emma-Kate’s NC State friends. Honey doesn’t know how she convinced them to take a road trip to bumfuck western North Carolina during the first week of classes, but she has a feeling that the cute hockey stars might’ve played a factor. 

Both Bea and Quinn are seated around the fire with the townies. Lucía and her older brother Diego made it to the party and are sitting between Bea and Quinn, talking to the person to their side. Diego has a blunt between his fingers and keeps throwing looks at Griffin and his cop-buddy Joshua, who are also sitting around the fire. Diego is arching his eyebrow like The Rock towards the pair every couple minutes and making Griffin laugh to the point that he can’t even look in Diego’s direction anymore.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Honey asks, touching Bea’s shoulder. She’s staring into the fire and lifting her eyes to survey the group every once in a while or to look at Luce when they’re having a conversation.  

Bea puckers her lips at Honey and blows her a kiss. “Yeah, I’m good.” She pouts at Honey and continues to explain, “Coming down from the buzz, so I’m like hungover and drunk at the same time. I think I prefer morning hangovers. It’s also sad that the guys are leaving.” 

Trevor chuckles next to Bea and places his hand on the back of her folding chair. “You’re missing me already?”

Bea rolls her eyes. She knocks her head against his hand. “Not you, you take away my Honey time.”

“Here, Hon, you can have my chair,” Griffin offers, standing up and bringing the chair over to where they’re standing. 

“No, Griff, I’m okay standing and you had it first,” Honey says, waving him off. She doesn’t really want to sit, especially not if she’s taking Griffin’s chair. She’s just checking with Bea, and then she and Trevor are going to dance. Honey’s phone is connected to the speaker now, so all of her favorite music is playing. 

Griffin shakes his head and plants the chair next to Bea. “I’m going to grab another beer and use the bathroom anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Griffin,” Bea sing-songs. “I know you’re trying to be gentlemanly–”

At that, Trevor’s hand slides around Honey’s hip possessively. 

“–but stop trying to force your chivalry on my best friend,” Bea finishes. A grin passes over her face after she ends her sentence.

Griffin laughs. He taps Bea’s forehead and she bites at Griffin’s finger when he pulls away. He leaves the circle and Bea shoots the hairband around her wrist at his retreating back.

Honey catches Quinn watching them, but he averts his eyes quickly when he sees that Honey is watching him. 

She feels like her stomach is sinking into the dirt. Honey tilts her head to the side, taking in Quinn’s shrunken posture, and sighs.

Trevor sinks into the chair Griffin left behind and pulls Honey onto his lap. She goes willingly, but leans forward and rests her elbows on the arm of Bea’s chair. 

“Are you going to talk to him?” Honey asks under her breath. “You’re both miserable.”

“I can’t,” Bea deflects in a low voice, matching Honey’s tone. She looks at Quinn and looks away just as quickly, biting the inside of her cheek.

Honey presses her lips together and blinks at Bea.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bea complains, rolling her shoulder up and grimacing in blatant discomfort. “I feel bad, but it’s not…”

“Bea, you have to talk to him,” Honey tells her gently. “He’s not gone yet and you love him.”

Bea looks at her hands and rubs her thumb over the lines on her palm.

“He loves you,” Honey prods. She touches Bea’s elbow. “Finish the summer on a good note.”

“We’re broken up,” Bea reiterates to Honey, an unnecessary reminder of something Honey knows all too well. She was there with Bea before and after it happened. She knows.

“And that’s fine,” Honey says. “But neither of you want to be. You can’t just ignore him.”

Bea takes a deep breath and peeks at Quinn. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispers, still gazing in his direction. 

As if Quinn can feel the eyes on him, Honey sees him glance up and make eye contact with Bea. The corners of his lips turn up slightly in a reassuring smile before he looks away. 

She does the same. 

Honey tucks a lock of hair behind Bea’s ear. “You can do this.”

Trevor’s hands squeeze Honey’s hips and she gets the hint– he’s a little needy for attention. He managed to wait until the end of her and Bea’s conversation, which she’s happy about. It’s the bare minimum, and yet Trevor is impatient and bounces between one thing and another within minutes. He’s so sweet, and he gets rather restless quickly.

She wants to dance anyway. It’s time. Honey stands and pats Bea’s shoulder before she and Trevor approach the makeshift dance floor. She holds his hand and leads him there.

“You’re really good at crisis management,” Trevor says, turning Honey around so that they’re face to face. He puts his hands on her hips and holds her close. 

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Honey replies. She twines her arms around Trevor’s neck and knocks her nose against his. “Five years of it.”

Trevor hums and frowns, leaning in and stealing Honey’s lips a few times. “I hate remembering that,” he drawls. He pecks her lips again. “But you are very good at it. I like that you take care of people so well.”

Honey feels her cheeks go red and she shakes her head, looking over his shoulder at Jack and his brunette. 

Trevor kisses over Honey’s neck and her shoulder. They sway to the music, staying close and breathing in time with each other. 

Honey rests her temple against Trevor’s cheek. She laughs and corrects him when his hands fall from her hips to her ass. She can feel him smiling in a cheeky way after she tells him to move his hands back to a respectable place, although he obeys in an instant. 

A few minutes later, Trevor taps Honey’s waist with his thumb. “They’re dancing.”

Honey is confused for a minute, then her eyebrows lift towards her hairline. “Bea and Quinn?”

“Mhm,” Trevor hums. He spins them around in place so that Honey can creepily watch Bea and Quinn dancing behind them. 

Bea’s got a hand on Quinn’s shoulder, her other hand held in his out to her right side. They’ve got a relaxed-ballroom dance stance instead of the closer hold that Trevor and Honey have on each other. Quinn’s hand is on Bea’s waist and they seem to be talking, albeit in stilted conversation, as they move. 

Quinn’s fingers are tense, partially lifted off of Bea’s waist, like he’s not sure if he can touch her. They relax when Bea steps closer and lets her forearm rest on his bicep, faces close enough that they can probably feel each others’ breath. They look… happy to be like this, but hesitant.

Honey understands why Bea is so choked up every time she has to be near Quinn. After all, Honey doesn’t want Trevor to leave, but it’s inevitable. The same is true for Bea and Quinn. The summer and their time in Litchton was always going to end. Distance is a just a cruel snip of fate.

Honey gulps as they turn, catching the look in Bea’s glassy eyes, fastened on Quinn’s face. She’s biting her lower lip while she studies him. It’s like Quinn is telling her something, but she can’t hear him without remembering what it’s like to kiss him. She’s tormented by how much she likes him and taunted by the fact that it could never work.

Honey loses them in her sight as she and Trevor spin on the floor. Honey takes a sharp inhale and blinks, coming back to herself. 

“I don’t want to miss you in the fall,” Honey says suddenly, as if jolted awake. 

“What?” Trevor asks, thoroughly confused.

“When Bea and Quinn broke up, she said it made the most sense? I don’t think it makes sense for us,” Honey stammers, shaking her head. 

“What are you talking about?” Trevor asks.

Of course he’s confused, since they already decided that they’d be staying together after Trevor leaves, but Honey has to say what’s on her mind regardless. She distantly recognizes the song that has started to play– “A year from now, we’ll all be gone…”

“I never wanted to see Thomas again after we broke up, but I never want to be without you,” Honey says. “We can’t break up.”

“Honey, we’re not breaking up,” Trevor agrees. 

She understands what he meant now– when he came to the Nook for the first time, Trevor told her that he liked her name because it was like he got to call her something special, something sweet. It rubbed her the wrong way then, but hearing his tender tone now makes Honey want to weep. Her name only sounds right, like this, when he says it. “I’m in this. You’re stuck with me. God help you.”

His sincere words break a dam in Honey’s ribs, causing her to giggle. “You’re not going to make me beg?” She jabs back, grateful that he didn’t take her hurried words in a more serious, concerned, worried way. 

Trevor leans down to mouth over her pulse point. “Oh, every day of your life. Know how much you like it, gotta keep my girlfriend happy,” he mumbles along her skin. 

Honey lets out a contented sigh. She hugs Trevor closer. “Knew you were good for something.”

“That’s why you decided to keep me around, hm?” Trevor teases with a smile at the curve of her jaw. “The sex?”

“One of the reasons,” Honey teases back.

“Yeah? What are the others?” Trevor asks. He’s goading her into giving him compliments, but Honey is more than willing to comply.

Honey pulls him up to meet her lips. “I love you,” she says after the kiss.

Trevor grins, his chipped tooth that Honey is so fond of catching her eye. “I love you, too,” he replies and kisses her again.

“Holy shit, what did you two just say?” Cole demands suddenly from next to them. He’s dancing with Emma-Kate’s redheaded friend, to whom he bids goodbye with a squeeze of her hand and a wink. He turns back to Honey and Trevor. “When did this happen?”

“When did what happen,” Trevor asks, narrowing his eyes at Cole.

“The I Love You,” Cole explains, nodding between them pointedly. “Was that the first time?”

Honey blinks. She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve been betting on it for weeks,” Cole says. “If that’s the first time you’ve said I Love You, then Jack loses the bet and Quinn wins.”

Trevor scoffs. “That’s kind of funny. I wondered what those numbers on the back of the whiteboard were for.”

Honey’s jaw drops. The numbers that she noticed last week… they hadn’t meant anything to Honey, just doodles of something she assumed was hockey related. Now she gets it— it was their over/under on their relationship.

“He knows when we said I Love You for the first time,” Honey snaps incredulously, sucking her teeth. She looks out on the floor to find Jack. “He was in the room when I yelled about it to Bea.”

“Oh, cheater,” Cole complains, throwing a glance at Jack as well. He catches their gaze, then quickly pulls his brunette towards the hot tub with Luke and Emma-Kate. “That’s not fair. I thought you’d wait until the end of this year. Damn.” He whacks himself on the head gently. “I should’ve known, after all the sex dreams you had, Z. You said it first, didn’t you?”

Trevor is quick to change the subject. “So do we get a share of the money since you were betting on us?”

Honey turns to Trevor, on a completely separate page. “You had sex dreams about me?”

Trevor flushes red. 

“Oh yeah,” Cole laughs. “Why do you think he wanted to fuck you so bad on the boat on the Fourth of July?”

Honey cackles, throwing her head back. She smushes Trevor’s cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re such a boy. Sex dreams…”

Trevor groans in the back of his throat and takes Honey’s hand. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Honey laughs again at his bizarre slang. Even though it’s a relatively common phrase, she somehow never expected to hear Trevor say it.

They go upstairs to his room, deserting the party and getting ready for bed. Trevor does his best to keep his hands on Honey as they change into their pajamas, brush their teeth, wash their faces, and climb into bed. Honey left her phone downstairs to keep playing the music, but she’s sure Bea will grab it when the party wraps up. She can still hear the music playing and some people chatting outside, their voices floating up over Trevor’s balcony and seeping through the sliding glass door, muffled to something intelligible.

They lay there, Honey pulled halfway onto Trevor’s chest so that she can listen to his heartbeat, for a while before dozing off. Honey almost falls asleep in Trevor’s arms, hearing him drone on and on about something that she stopped listening to a long time ago, when Quinn opens Trevor’s door without knocking. He’s lucky that they’re not in a compromising position. Honey is lucky that he’s not catching them in a compromising position– that would be humiliating.

“Honey,” Quinn says breathlessly. He stares at her and runs his fingers through his hair.

Honey sits up from where she was tucked against Trevor’s body. “What?” She asks. She's never seen Quinn like this, all flushed and frantic.

“It’s Bea, I don't know what to do,” Quinn tells her, tugging at his t-shirt anxiously. “Can you come?”

The fact that Honey is just in one of Trevor's big shirts and her panties doesn’t matter anymore. She has left Trevor’s side in a flash and goes down the hall ahead of Quinn, throwing his bedroom door open and not caring that it bangs off the wall. Bea is sitting in Quinn’s bed, wrapped in the sheets, face buried in her hands. 

“What happened?” Honey behests in a sharp voice, talking to Quinn while approaching the bed and brushing Bea’s hair with her fingers. 

“Just–” Quinn starts, but Bea’s voice leaks through the cracks of her fingers and Honey tunes the man out automatically, wanting to hear Bea’s side.

“It’s just not fair,” Bea whimpers. “How can it be like this and it still won’t work?”

“It can work,” Quinn insists. “Bea, I told you, we don’t have to–”

Bea’s shoulders start to shake and Honey wraps her arms around her. She narrows her eyes at Quinn. “You’re upsetting her,” she says. “You knew what you were getting into from the jump.”

“But I–” Quinn argues.

“No,” Honey states. She flashes him a look. “Quinn.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he says in a softer voice, directing his words at Bea. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Bea lifts her head and eyes Quinn. It takes a moment, but she nods. 

“Are you sure?” Honey asks, wiping a tear off of Bea’s cheek. 

“We have to talk,” Bea says. “We… we have to talk.”

Honey nods slowly. “Okay,” she says tentatively. “Let’s go to Trev’s room.”

Still wrapped in Quinn’s sheet, they walk down the hall and go into Trevor’s bathroom. Honey gives Bea the shirt that she was wearing so that she can cover up, then goes back into Trevor’s room to grab a new one. She returns to Bea only seconds later and locks the bathroom door behind them.

“What happened?” Honey asks again after sitting in complete silence on the ledge of the jacuzzi for five minutes.

Bea takes a deep breath and scrubs her hands over her face. “Breakup sex,” she explains. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“But you wanted to,” Honey checks. “It wasn’t, like–”

Bea’s eyes grow wide. “God, no! No, Quinn wouldn’t do that. It was consensual for both of us and it was good sex, just sad, and I was overwhelmed afterward.”

Honey pinches her lips together, evaluating Bea. After a beat, she says, “You told him.”

Bea chews on a hangnail and avoids Honey’s eyes.

“Bea, look at me,” Honey says, then waits for her to do so. “You told him that you love him.”

Bea holds eye contact, then surveys the tile floor of the bathroom. Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “I shouldn’t have.”

Honey takes in a breath. “Bea…”

“Do you want to look into therapists with me tomorrow?” Bea asks, laughing lightly. She’s still got a sheen of tears in her eyes, but her question is genuine.

Honey lets a silence fall between them again, holding eye contact with Bea. She doesn’t know what to think, really. Honey thinks that Bea should go for it with Quinn, since they both care so much and are so happy when they’re together. They should see if they can make it. It’s the unknown and the chance that something could go wrong that Bea is afraid of, and Honey gets that. She feels the same way, but Bea is so dedicated to the things she cares about. If she wanted to commit to Quinn, they would make it, and if they don’t, at least they tried.

“I’ll see if Dr. Harris does online appointments,” Honey eventually agrees, referring to the therapist she used to see in Charlotte after Thomas leaked her nudes to the public. “We need to get these commitment issues in check, Bea. I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to be with Quinn, if that’s what you want.”

Bea’s smile is rueful. “That won’t happen,” Bea repeats for the umpteenth time. “If the Quinn thing wasn’t over before, it definitely is now. Crying after your ex-boyfriend just came inside you isn’t a very appealing thing.”

Honey covers her face. She’s at a loss for words. “Alright.”

Bea lets out a chuckle, but it trails off. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to him tomorrow.”

“Try not to have breakup sex again,” Honey suggests.

“Well, yes,” Bea agrees. “That… that probably wasn’t one of my better ideas. He’s just– I mean, you know how you kept thinking that you wanted Trevor, and then took it back, and the cycle kept repeating? Right at the beginning of the summer?”

Honey cringes. That seems so stupid, now. She was overthinking so much and it made her so anxious. “Yeah.”

“I just can’t stay away from Q,” Bea sighs. She forms the words slowly in her mouth. “I… love him.”

“I know,” Honey affirms. She offers a small smile at Bea, which the girl returns. “I’m here for you.”

“Wanna have a sleepover?” Bea asks, sounding almost like when they were children trying to scheme their parents into letting them spend more time together.

“Do we have to choreograph a dance to convince Trevor?” Honey teases.

“I think if you bat your eyelashes at him, he’ll agree.” Bea smiles and wipes her eyes one final time, some enthusiasm returning to her body.

Honey huffs out a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promises, standing and leaving the bathroom to ask Trevor for a sleepover.

Like Bea said, batting her eyelashes worked– plus a pouted bottom lip and a giggly “please.” All three of them sleep in Trevor’s king-sized bed that night, which might be the funniest thing Honey and Bea have ever done.

89:90 – TREVOR

Trevor’s final task of the day is to clean out the fridge. They split the house up into different areas for cleaning, although Jack is going to do the final run-though since he’s the neatest of all of them. Cole cleaned his room and the basement, Luke cleaned the bunk-bed room and the living room and balconies, Jack took his room and the hallways and stairwells and did a sweep of the outside, and Quinn had to do his room and the bathrooms. Trevor was left with his room, the kitchen, and the dining room. It was fair enough. 

Looking into the fridge, though, Trevor is intimidated by his final task. It’s no secret that the boys love to eat. They’re all in their early 20s, with Quinn finally turning 25 just next month and entering those frightening mid-20s where his frontal lobe will fully develop. Luke is a moose, the youngest of them and yet able to put away the most food, but the state of the fridge reflects all of their hunger and diet. 

Even though they’re leaving tomorrow, the fridge is still stuffed with food. There’s eggs and greek yogurt and a bunch of different kinds of cheese. They’ve got two gallons of milk on one of the shelves, one unopened and one half-drunk, which they’ve been throwing in protein shakes and fruity smoothies all summer. There are a couple of BlenderBottles near the milk, storing drinks that the guys never quite finished, and Trevor wilts at the idea of cleaning them out, not knowing how long they’ve been in there. 

Quinn has a bunch of uneaten meals he prepped last weekend, with quinoa and brown rise and whatever kind of meat he threw into the bowl that day. There’s chicken and turkey stuffed away in massive ziplock bags for the guys to take out and throw onto a sandwich or into a wrap whenever they feel like. There’s a tupperware of lean ground beef from when Luke made tacos a few days ago, which he’s been slowly picking at. They have stacks of boxes of cold cuts for sandwiches, none of which they’ll be able to finish. It’s a waste. Trevor realizes that they should’ve started thinking about how much food they have last week– and trying to eat it all until there’s nothing left by the end of the week– but they didn’t. Plus, they’ve got all the leftover food from the party last night, and a bunch of loose cans and bottles of beer on the next shelf, taking up space.

The boxes for veggies and fruits are no better. Quinn bought a bunch of vegetables for his salads and bowls– carrots, celery, cucumber, peppers, spinach, kale, lettuce, avocado… it’s a nightmare. Trevor doesn’t even know how they all fit into the bin. The next one with their fruit for smoothies is no better, packed to the brim, and there’s a thing of hummus sitting atop the carton of blueberries. It doesn’t belong there, but Trevor guesses that there was just no room anywhere else.

The shelves on the doors house a bunch of items that he can probably leave in the rental house for the owners to decide their fate. It’s a bunch of sauces, vingaigrettes and salad dressings, a jar of pickles and a couple of jars of jam, ketchup, mustard, and mayo. In a plastic cup, they’ve got a bunch of packets of soy sauce that came with the Chinese food they ordered months ago, and Trevor isn’t even sure you’re supposed to refrigerate soy sauce packets. He’s pretty sure those could’ve stayed in the pantry.

He wishes he could throw the meat and the fruit in the freezer, although that would only keep it fresh for so long, but the freezer is equally stuffed with items. Trevor won’t mess with any of that– the owners can eat the frozen pizzas or the frozen chicken and he doesn’t have to worry about that. It might be nice to come back to a relatively full freezer, knowing that you won’t have to go and buy more stuff anytime soon. Plus, the frozen food won’t go bad. It’ll be fine.

He kind of wishes that Honey had told him about the surprise party, although he loved how surprising it was. He wore his sweater from Scarlett this morning until it got too hot to wear in the August heat. If he’d known, he could’ve asked her to tell the people to use the items in their fridge. He’s sure that the ladies could’ve whipped something up with the random and nutritious items in their kitchen. At their base, the food doesn’t make for “party food,” but Trevor has faith in the ladies. They’ve attended decades of church potlucks and homecomings and can make something out of nothing, like grandmother magic. 

Ugh. But now he has to clean.

His only consolation is that Honey and Bea are coming over for dinner tonight, so they’ll be able to put away two more servings of food than if it was just the boys in the house. Unfortunately, Bea won’t be able to help Trevor toss food in the trash since she’s supposed to have a big conversation with Quinn– they’re still not going to stay together when the boys leave, to Trevor’s knowledge– but Honey will be around to help. He gets to spend more time with his girlfriend doing domestic things. This must be where the phrase ‘domestic bliss’ comes from.

He’s not looking forward to the months that he’ll endure without seeing Honey in person. His game schedule came out a little while ago, back in July, and he’s been trying to pinpoint which games Honey might want to come to. At the very earliest, he could see her at the end of October, when he plays in Jersey for the first time this season. He thinks that she, and Bea if she wants to come, might get a kick out of seeing Trevor and Jack and Luke on the ice together. Quinn comes to California in the first week of November, so maybe she’d want to come to that. She could come to Montréal with him in early December to face off with Cole, but Trevor doesn’t know if Honey has a passport. He needs to ask before he gets tickets for her. He’ll definitely see her over Christmas, since he promised to see her parents again over the holidays, and he’d love to spend New Year’s together. The Devils play in California on the last day of the year, so they could spend that time together. At the very latest, Trevor will see her January 12th when he plays in Raleigh for the first time this season.

If it takes that long to see Honey, they would spend about five months apart. Trevor detests that. He sees what his teammates mean now when they talk about how it’s hard to be apart from their girlfriends and wives and families.

They play the Canes again in March, but in Anaheim. Trevor will certainly ask Honey to come out for that one. Who knows, she might become a die-hard Canes fan now that she has a reason to pay attention to hockey. Her parents are big NC State fans, having both gone there– and wanting their daughter to continue the tradition– so the family has a stake in Raleigh. If Honey doesn’t learn to love the Ducks for her boyfriend, because of her hatred of California, then she ought to become a fan of her hometown team. 

Who knows? Maybe, a couple of years down the line, if Honey isn’t willing to move to California with Trevor… he’ll try to broker a deal with the Canes and get a trade. He’ll be a free agent again in 2026. Anything is possible.

Trevor closes the fridge and takes a lap around the kitchen. Once he makes it back in front of the refrigerator, there’s nothing left to do but open the doors. 

He takes another lap.

He rolls his neck back, trying to crack it the next time he makes it in front of the fridge. He jumps up and down and stretches his body, focusing on his arms and shoulders. Trevor isn’t exactly sure why he’s so intimidated by the idea of cleaning out this fridge, but he is. He lets out three quick, harsh breaths, and sets his hands on the door handles.

“Why are you so weird?”

Trevor jumps, his shoulders flying up towards his earlobes. “Jesus,” he curses. “You can’t fucking sneak up on me like that, Bea.”

She’s got a perturbed look on her face, looking at him judgmentally. Her hair is in two messy braids on either side of her face, sunglasses sat atop her head and keeping her flyaways out of her face. She squints at him. The judgment is whatever, but Trevor is more concerned with the fact that she’s alone.

“Where’s my girlfriend?” he asks.

“Our girlfriend,” Bea corrects snarkily.

“You’re not dating her,” Trevor sneers. He goes a bit farther than he’s supposed to without thinking. “You’re not dating anyone.”

Bea rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “She’s upstairs, talking to Quinn before I go up there and talk to him myself.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh,’” Bea mocks. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning out the fridge,” Trevor answers her. 

Bea makes a face. “Why?”

“Because we leave tomorrow?” Trevor sasses in the same tone.

“Don’t get rid of this shit,” Bea tells him. “I’ll take the milk and bring it to the Nook for our shitty coffee maker. Ada will take your ripe fruit, or Honey will. I’ll put the deli meat in the fridge at the Nook too, I forget to make lunch all the time and I always need to improvise with the nothingness we have. Sarah will take the rest of the unopened cheese so she can pair it with wines at tastings. Earl will take just about all of the meat you have.”

She says it so simply and Trevor stares at her. 

Bea starts to laugh. “You didn’t think about the people around you? Did you think you’d be able to throw all of this food away and get away with it? Honey would’ve killed you for wasting so much.”

Trevor scowls and looks away from the girl, focusing his attention on the refrigerator again. 

“Come on, Trevor, don’t be a pouty baby,” Bea giggles. “At least you don’t have to be the shame of Litchton, throwing away all of your groceries like the spoiled, rich, professional athlete you are.”

“You’re kind of a bitch,” Trevor tells her. 

Bea shrugs. “I don’t have to take the food if you don’t want me to.”

His scowl turns into a glower. “You can’t take it back now.”

Bea smirks to herself and watches as Trevor opens the fridge and starts to sort through all of the old protein shakes and fruit smoothies that need to be removed. Trevor sees her perk up in the corner of his eye and she steps forward, reaching past him and grabbing a slender aluminum can and sets it on the counter. “You might want to keep that for yourself.” She’s got a stupid little smile on her face.

Trevor shoos her away and snatches the bottle back, moving it to the counter on the other side of the fridge. He sneaks a peek at it when Bea has dropped onto the couch in the living room and thrown her feet up on the freshly-cleaned table. He rolls his eyes– it’s the can of Reddi-Whip Cole bought last week after Vera gave him a peach cobbler for his help with inventory on Tuesday. Bea thinks she’s hilarious.

“He’s ready for you,” Honey’s voice says, floating down the hallway. Bea jumps up from the couch and goes down the hall, seeming to stop in front of Honey so that she can add, “Don’t have breakup sex with him again.”

Trevor snorts and closes the fridge door on his head as best he can to hide his laughter. Honey nudges his knee forward until it buckles once she nears Trevor, a reproachful frown on her face. “Don’t laugh at her. Things are hard.”

That’s what she said. Trevor sucks on his teeth and makes eye contact with Honey, trying not to laugh even more. 

She moves like she’s about to bop him in the balls, so Trevor instinctively covers his junk with his hands and distances himself from Honey. She scoffs a laugh and takes his spot in front of the fridge. “What are we making for dinner?”

Trevor takes it as an invitation and plasters himself to Honey’s back, pressing his soft cock against her behind. “I dunno,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I know what dessert is, though.”

Honey makes a surprised sound that comes out more like a squawk, mouth dropping open and body squirming in Trevor’s arms. “You horny motherfucker,” she rebukes.

Trevor tightens his grip and laughs under his breath, weaseling his way closer to Honey and kissing her neck. “It’ll be fun. C’mon, sweet girl, I leave tomorrow. I need to have you in my bed after dinner.”

She rolls her eyes but goes lax in Trevor’s grip. “Well, when you put it that way,” she concedes sarcastically. Her hand comes up to Trevor’s hair, scratching his scalp, and he hums into her pulse point, leaving peck after peck on the beating vein. “Let’s get this fridge fixed and make some dinner, then we can do… something sweet.”

Trevor is too busy hearing the consent from Honey to fuck all night to hear the lightbulb going off above her head. He’s smiling into her shoulder.

Honey is good at organizing– Trevor has said it before, but he has to repeat it now. She manages the refrigerator so well, creating sections for each person that will receive the food. Honey says that she’ll borrow Earl’s truck tomorrow and his big cooler to store the food, trucking a load to the Nook while the boys pack the cars. She promises that she’ll be back by the time Trevor leaves, not that he’d leave without putting off the goodbye as long as he can. 

He really has to leave by 11, since that’s when checkout is, but Trevor might have to get lunch with Honey if Cole allows him to. He’s flying out of D.C. pretty late, around 9 o’clock, and it’s about a six and a half hour drive. Surely he’d be okay with grabbing lunch. It’ll be tight, but they can make it with time to spare. In his heart, Trevor knows that lunch is unlikely, but he’s trying to convince himself that it can work logistically. 

Honey gives him all of the used dishes to clean while she handles the food, until there’s nothing left for Trevor to do but help. Even then, she hands him leftovers to dig into and finish off before she trusts him with sorting items in her system. Trevor doesn’t mind– he’s not as bottomless as Luke, but he can put away a good chunk of a buffet.

Bea and Quinn join Honey and Trevor downstairs as they finish sorting food. Trevor manages to read the room this time and he shares a look with Honey. There’s a thick tension between Bea and Quinn, but they’re shouldering their way through it. Trevor catches both of them casually touching each other as the foursome moves around the kitchen to prepare dinner. There’s a hand on the small of Bea’s back to squeeze behind her and a hand on Quinn’s bicep when Bea leans past him to grab a knife from the block to chop up a cucumber for the salad. They must’ve come to some conclusion– or a middle-ground that worked better for them than the original breakup on Tuesday.

The boys wander into the kitchen at different intervals. By the time dinner is served, they’re all cramped together in the tiny space and chatting like this isn’t the last time they’ll have a night like this for… who knows how long.

It’s bittersweet. While Trevor is having the time of his life eating pounds and pounds of food with his best friends, his girlfriend, and Bea, he’s also anxious to go upstairs. Honey is in no rush to leave the table. 

They sit there for hours, long after the food has gone cold. They continue eating this whole time and manage to get rid of a lot of the food Trevor was stressing about. Honey holds his hand on top of the table and strokes the back of his fingers with her thumb. 

The guys and Bea leave Honey and Trevor to clean up the kitchen again after cooking and eating– “The kitchen was your realm, dude, why should we have to clean up your shit?” was their argument– and they go downstairs to watch a movie in the basement. 

Honey sits on the counter and kicks her feet, watching Trevor dry the dishes and put them away. When he’s done, and about to grab a beer from their supply, Honey beckons Trevor over. “C’mere, Trev,” she requests, leaning forward to kiss him when he steps between her legs. Her hands fist in the hem of his shirt, tugging. “You should take this off.”

Trevor’s stomach swoops. “Yeah?” He lets his hand trail along the neckline Honey’s tank top, caressing the soft skin of her breasts. 

“I had a funny idea,” Honey divulges sneakily. 

“Mm, that sounds fun,” Trevor hums. He slides his left hand down to palm Honey’s tit and gives it a squeeze.

She laughs. “I didn’t even tell you what it is yet,” she says.

“All I know is that you want me to take my shirt off and we’re kissing,” Trevor says. “No matter what your idea is, it’ll be fun.”

Honey mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘horndog’ before taking things into her own hands and pulling Trevor’s shirt up and over his head. Her hands brush over his bare skin, fingers dancing along the tattoo on his ribs before her thumb brushes his nipple. One of her hands leaves him, but Trevor is shivering from the gentle touch on his chest.

Her tongue is flat against his and Trevor moans before there’s a hissing sound and something cool touches Trevor’s stomach.

He pulls back from Honey and looks down, starting to laugh breathlessly when he sees the dollop of whipped cream on his sternum. “That is a funny idea,” Trevor says. “But I think you already had your chance to cover me in whipped cream.”

“So long ago,” Honey points out. She juts out her bottom lip and blinks innocently at Trevor. “You don’t want me to put a little cream on the tip of your dick and lick it off?”

Trevor is bombarded by an image of Honey on her knees, cheeks hollowed and lips wrapped around his cock. He struggles to wade through it and make it back to reality. “That’s… after my turn,” he stammers.

Honey pouts deepens, but Trevor will not fall for this. When Honey first licked whipped cream off of his body on Cole’s dare, the images of that plagued Trevor for days. He thought of all the ways he could get her back and now that he has the chance, he wants to make it even. He takes the can of whip from her hand and takes the appendage with his other, helping Honey off the counter and leading her upstairs.

“Get strippin’, Charlotte,” Trevor jokingly commands once he has his bedroom door locked behind them. He leans back against the wood and sprays a mouthful of whipped cream onto his tongue, swallowing the sweet treat as he watches her bite her tongue and drag her tank top up her body. She pops the button of her daisy dukes and lets them drop to the floor, stepping out of them and marching over to Trevor.

She kisses him against the door, her fingertips digging into his waistband like they did all of those weeks ago. “Don’t call me that,” she tells him after kissing him stupid. 

Trevor’s head is hazy from the movement of her lips, so he nods an agreement before she even finishes talking. 

Honey walks backward, pulling Trevor forward by the fabric around his abdomen, and kisses him over and over. 

Trevor can smell vanilla, Honey’s signature scent, on her skin and can almost taste cherries on her lips. He shakes the can of whipped cream absently, his palm splayed over the tattoo above Honey’s behind. He should cover that in whipped cream. 

It’s tempting, but he has something else he’d rather cover in the delicate white dessert. Her nipple piercings have been healed for years, and she once licked this stuff off of his nipples, and he wants to repay the favor. It’s his first order of business, actually. 

He goes down with Honey when she settles onto the bed, laying on her back. Trevor parts her lips with his tongue and nibbles on her bottom lip, making sure there’s not a part of her mouth that he hasn’t explored before he pulls away and tries to decide what pattern he wants to draw on Honey’s body.

He must take too long, since Honey opens her mouth and resumes her normal sassy, borderline bratty bossiness. “Maybe we should do my idea first, since you can’t seem to think of anyth–”

Trevor leans over her and sprays a mouthful of whip onto her tongue. “Quiet, you.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Honey replies, a little muffled. She swallows and licks some whip off of her upper lip. 

Trevor takes to decorating her body before she can tell him to hurry up again. He draws two arches over her breasts, then laughs to himself and connects the arches to make a heart, the base of which reaches her belly button. He draws two eyes on the heart– two dollops of the white substance on her nipples– and a curved line that is the heart’s smile. He adds two little legs to the heart and sprays a line above Honey’s waistband, creating a ground for the heart to stand on. 

Honey watches him with a tiny smile on her face, fond and sweet. “You’re a goof,” she eventually says when Trevor places the can on his nightstand. 

“I’m an artist,” Trevor corrects. He carefully makes his way on top of Honey, trying not to ruin his masterpiece before he can lick it away. He decides to start with the heart’s smile, sucking up the treat there as a precursor to the more erotic zones he decided to cover. 

Honey laughs when he moves to the heart’s legs, bracketing the pudge on her stomach that he likes to rest his head on so much when she sits on the couch and reads a book. “That tickles,” she tells Trevor. 

He digs his fingers into her sides at that, making her squirm and giggle. All the while, he continues licking the cream away.

His tongue trails along her hips, dangerously close to her pussy, cleaning up the line that he placed there. Honey’s breath gets a bit deeper when he laps at her skin so far south, yet too north for her liking. He can tell that she’s feeling it, understanding how sexy it was when she did this to him at the beginning of the summer, just because of the way her squirming morphs into something more subtle and needy. 

He ignores the twitch of her hips upward, just placing a hand on her hip and holding her down with gentle pressure. He goes back up to the body of the heart, kissing just below Honey’s belly button before licking up the left side of the heart. He goes up her torso, around her boobs, forcing himself not to indulge in the dots on her tits just yet, and back down to where he started. 

Slowly, achingly slow, Trevor kisses the middle of Honey’s stomach, up the line between her boobs, and to her clavicle. His thumbs rise from her waist and hip to her ribs, pressing into the thin skin mere millimeters from the curves of her breasts. 

“Gonna fuck you after I finish cleaning you up,” Trevor tells her. 

“Hm, you’d better,” Honey muses. “Feels like I’m about to explode, Trev.”

“Imagine how I felt after you left me hanging,” Trevor teases. 

“You rubbed yourself raw, didn’t you?” Honey asks.

Trevor laughs and nips at her neck. “Mean.”

“But true?”

“Mean,” Trevor repeats.

“Definitely true.”

He doesn’t respond, although she’s on the right track. If the boys hadn’t been on stakeout after the dare, he probably would’ve jerked it until his dick fell off. That’s how hot it was when she dropped to her knees and made her way up his body. Instead of answering Honey, Trevor hovers with his mouth just above one of her nipples. He flicks his tongue and takes off the top of the dollop of whipped cream, avoiding contact with Honey’s peaks. He does the same thing to the other, waiting to hear Honey open her mouth to tell him what to do before he covers her nipple with his mouth and damn near bites down, sucking and licking all the whipped cream off of her sensitive skin until there’s nothing but sweetened saliva cooling against her piercings. Even after cleaning both of her nipples off until they’re pristine again, Trevor alternates between them, showering them with attention and hearing Honey grow louder and louder each time he bites down.

“Trev, get your cock inside me,” Honey requests, twirling his hair around her fingers and stroking his neck. She stifles a snort, although Trevor hears it anyway. “Put your cream inside me.”

Trevor muffles his own laughter in her neck. “Good one,” he tells Honey sarcastically. “Very sexy.”

Honey giggles and scratches her nails down Trevor’s back. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Totally.” Trevor nods in an overexaggerated way. He throws himself down on the bed next to Honey, laying on his back and lifting his hips to pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Honey rolls onto her side and pushes herself up onto her elbows, kissing the side of Trevor’s face before throwing her leg over his lap and straddling him. 

“Ooh,” Trevor muses, bringing his hands to Honey’s behind and palming her asscheeks. “You gonna ride me?”

“Just for the first round,” Honey replies. “Then I’m laying down and you get to do all the work.”

Trevor’s retort fails to sound from his mouth when Honey rolls her hips against his, her wet folds molding around the length of Trevor’s cock. His eyes probably grow bigger from the spark that ignites in his belly when her entrance drags along the ridges of his shaft. 

“You look pretty like this,” Honey compliments. She plants her hands on his stomach and grinds down again. “Under me.”

“You look prettier under me,” Trevor one-ups her, digging his fingers into her ass and spreading the cheeks. He bucks his hips up and makes sure his cockhead brushes her swollen clit. “But I love how you look on top.”

“You like seeing my boobs bounce.”

Trevor grins, showing his teeth to Honey. 

She laughs and hovers above him, wrapping a hand around Trevor’s cock and lining him up with her core. She lowers herself, biting her bottom lip and letting out a sigh as she fills herself. 

Trevor loves the weight of her body settling against him. It makes him feel even more surrounded by Honey, even more under her thumb. When she’s on top of him, the gravity of their position makes him feel so much better. Her insides are hot and gummy and Trevor can feel her slick pooling around his base once she starts to move. 

Her eye contact is insane, making Trevor squirm against the mattress. Her eyes almost affect him more than the grip her pussy has on his cock– evaluating Trevor, scrutinizing him, watching his every move. Trevor’s heartbeat only increases as she rocks her hips and milks the precum from his member. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor mumbles.

Honey lets a sweet smile pass over her face and she tilts her head. “Aren’t you a sweetheart,” she says, pinching his sides gently before leaning forward to kiss him. 

Trevor’s hands travel from her ass to her waist, her back, and her tits. He moves her hair out of her face and touches her jaw as she sucks on his bottom lip. 

“I love you,” Honey breathes into Trevor’s mouth. 

A blurt of precum travels up Trevor’s cock and leaks into Honey’s insides. He has a physical reaction to her words– he’s so down bad, but God, he wouldn’t change anything. “I love you too.”

“I’m sad you have to go,” Honey says.

“I wish I could stay with you all the time,” Trevor replies. 

“I’m glad you came.”

Trevor groans when she clenches down on his length and starts to bounce faster. “Fuck,” he grits out. “That’s what she said.”

Honey closes her eyes and rests her forehead against Trevor’s. “If I weren’t so close to coming, I’d be so mad at you for ruining this moment.”

Trevor chuckles and lifts his chin so that their lips align. He thrusts his hips up in time with Honey’s movements, trying to match her rhythm as best he can. He soaks up the sounds that Honey makes, muffled and longing for more. She’s so tight and Trevor can feel how badly she wants him to fill her up.

He doesn’t make her wait long– once her tongue fills his mouth rather than his tongue entering hers, Trevor feels his balls tighten and he can’t hold back any longer. His cum spurts from his slit, cock twitching inside Honey as his pleasure explodes inside of her. 

Honey’s hips slow and she perches atop him. Her thumb sweeps across his lower lip, cleaning it of her saliva. She smirks at Trevor and removes herself from his lap, laying against the pillows and reaching for the can of whipped cream on the nightstand. 

Trevor watches her with curious, but confused eyes. She didn’t come yet. What is she doing? He picks up his head in surprise when she turns the can of whip on herself, spraying a bit of the cream onto her pubic mound.

Honey sets the can aside and grins at Trevor, proud of herself for her idea. “Dessert?” she asks.

Trevor laughs out loud and rolls onto his stomach, between her legs, and presses a kiss to her clit before licking all of the whipped cream away. He’ll get to the other kind shortly.

90:90 – HONEY

Honey sits on the edge of the tailgate of Earl’s truck, legs swinging beneath her. The polaroids in her pocket are a dead weight, burning a hole against her side. She’s nervous to give them to Trevor, so she decided to wait until the last minute, which is approaching any second. She’s just waiting for the boys to return from their final sweep of the house, making sure they didn’t forget to pack anything, which Honey is sure they did. There’s got to be something in that massive house that one of the boys forgot. 

Bea sits next to her. She twiddles her thumbs. They’ve already done the food-drops that Honey promised yesterday, stuffing fridges full of the boys’ food. They had to use both of their bodyweights to close the fridge in the Nook, since it was filled to the brim. 

The boys have packed up both of the cars. The Hughes boys are taking the big car to Charlotte and flying out from that airport, checking their many bags and landing in Detroit sometime this afternoon. Cole and Trevor are driving to D.C. tonight, where Cole will fly out, and then Trevor will drive the rest of the way to his hometown in New York tomorrow. He’ll spend about a week there, hanging out with his family, before he heads back to Anaheim. 

They stayed up late last night, talking and making out until two in the morning. Honey just didn’t want the night to end, since it meant that Trevor would be leaving when they wake up. They showered together this morning, having one last round before Trevor goes. He’s a horndog, but Honey is just as bad. She’s about to be without her boyfriend consistently for nine months and now that she’s got sex back– and she’s enjoying it very much– it’s not fun to give up. 

The front door opens and Jack leads the way out. He has a plastic bag in hand, which holds a bit of leftover laundry. Honey bets he’s going to try and stuff it in his backpack, which really can’t fit anything else without the seams ripping. Cole has a pair of rollerskates draped over the back his neck, the laces acting like a loose scarf. 

Honey swallows hard, feeling a lump in her throat grow. It was so nice to have them here this summer. She got really close to each of the boys and she’s sad to see them go, devastated that a summer like this probably won’t ever happen again for them. Of course, Trevor plans to come back next year, but the Hughes boys will stay in Michigan and Cole might do the same. She hopes that he will come to visit, but Honey knows that Quinn won’t unless he and Bea get back together, and if Quinn won’t, then the other brothers won’t visit. It’s sad. 

Bea hops down from the tailgate and Honey follows suit. The air is heavy as the boys approach.

“So this is it,” Cole says. He’s smiling, but there’s a twinge of sadness written into the smile. He reaches for Bea and pulls her into a hug, then pulls Honey into the mix. He squeezes them tight, an arm wrapped around each of their shoulders while the girls hug his waist. “You guys are the best. If you ever want to visit Montréal…”

Honey pulls away and tweaks Cole’s cheek. “Thanks, Coley. You’re always welcome back, you know. If hockey doesn’t work out for you, I think Vera would hire you on the spot, even if Earl thinks you’re too little to work in hardware.”

Cole puffs out his chest and kisses Bea’s cheek before she reluctantly lets go of him. “Earl would be lucky to have a spring chicken like me on board.” He grows more serious. “But really,” he says. “This was a great summer. I’m glad we met you both. I don’t think we would’ve made it a month without you.”

“I don’t think you could’ve made it a week,” Honey replies and squeezes his hand one more time before he heads over to Trevor’s car, opening the trunk without all of the bags spilling out and tucking his skates away.

Luke comes up to Honey next, bending down to encircle his arms around her waist and tuck his face into the crook of her neck while he hugs her. “You have to come see us when we’re in Raleigh,” Luke says, his voice bordering on distress. 

Honey pets through Luke’s hair, relishing in the way the curls feel against her fingers. “Just send me a text and I’ll be on my way,” Honey promises. 

Luke tightens his arms around Honey’s waist. “I never had a big sister, but if I did, I think she’d be a lot like you.”

Honey just about bursts into tears on the spot. “Oh, Lukey,” she simpers miserably before hiding her face in his shoulder. “I would have loved to have a little brother like you.”

Luke exhales shakily and pulls back. He sniffs like he’s welling up, but there isn’t any mist in his eyes, unlike Honey, who is nearly spilling over. He kisses the top of Honey’s head and pats her shoulder with a clumsy hand before Jack switches places with him.

His goodbye hug is energetic, sweeping Honey off of her feet and spinning her around. “Stop crying,” he tells her. “It’s not like we’re dying. You’ll see us again, especially if you keep this idiot around.” He jerks his head in Trevor’s direction and grins widely at Honey. 

“Hey,” Trevor complains just for the principle of being annoyed, since Honey can tell there is no heat behind it. 

She chuckles and fixes Jack’s baseball cap. “I expect you’ll be texting me?”

“Every time I miss you,” Jack replies. 

“So as soon as you get in the car,” Honey teases. She tucks a strand of hair behind Jack’s ear and presses a loud smooch on his cheek. “I’ll miss you too, J.”

“We play the Canes like four times before January,” Jack says. “Once before Thanksgiving and once after Christmas. You’ll be in town for both, right?”

“‘Course I will. I never go anywhere,” Honey says. “Send me some tickets so I don’t have to pay for them and I’ll go to the game for you guys.”

“Cheap-ass,” Jack accuses. He pulls Honey in a second time and rocks back and forth on his feet, swinging them from side to side. “Thanks for being my buddy this summer.”

“You guys are all thanking me and Bea like we did anything at all,” Honey says with a crooked smile. “All we were was nice to you.”

“You didn’t have to be,” Jack tells her. He squishes her cheek. “But you were. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“Text me when you land in Michigan.” Honey offers her pinkie to Jack and he takes it with his. He kisses the tip of his thumb and tells Honey to do the same. She complies, then she lets him go. 

It seems like she and Bea have the same idea, leaving their respective boys for their last goodbye. Trevor and Bea go around the side of the truck, talking quietly, and Quinn leans against the end of the tailgate with Honey. 

They stand in silence for a few moments, aware of each others’ presence but not feeling any pressure to speak– until Quinn does.

“I’m jealous that you guys have chosen to stay together,” Quinn says quietly.

Honey sighs and takes Quinn’s right hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry that y’all aren’t.”

Quinn inhales and presses his lips together. He looks down at the ground and scuffs his shoe against the gravel in the driveway. He forces a smile onto his face and lifts Honey’s hand in his to kiss the back of it. 

Honey takes one arm and wraps it around Quinn’s waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger, Quinn,” Honey murmurs.

Quinn nods. “Love you, Honey.”

“Love you too, Quinn. You’re a really great guy. I’m glad you were Bea’s first boyfriend.” Honey pats his side and distances herself from him. “Have a safe drive.”

“Next summer, you guys should come to Michigan,” Quinn offers. “We’d love to show you our town, since you showed us yours. You can stay as long as Ada will let you.”

Honey nods. “I’ll let you know closer to that date,” Honey informs him. “But I’m sure that would be nice. You have my number. Like I told Jack, you can text or call any time you want.”

“Not sure if Bea would like that,” Quinn responds with a shrug. “But I’ll keep it in mind. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Honey chuckles. “I know too much about you to never see you again.”

Quinn has a funny look on his face, somewhere between bemused and sorrowful. He nods and pulls Honey in for a long hug, nose pressed against her hair. They stay like that until Trevor breaks it up. 

“Alright, alright,” he says with a haughty, macho tone. “Break it up. Get off my girlfriend, Hughes.” He pulls them apart with play force.

Bea stands behind him, laughing quietly. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s definitely been crying. She’s a sensitive girl, which Honey loves about her. 

Quinn notices almost immediately and goes to her, taking Bea’s hand. “Let’s get this over with,” Honey hears Quinn say. It makes Bea huff out a little laugh and they go to the side of the truck again, where Bea just was with Trevor.

Trevor touches Honey’s waist and pulls her close, their lower halves touching. “I love you,” he says earnestly. He peppers kisses over Honey’s face until she’s giggling and trying to get away from him. 

She squeals and puts her hand between their faces. “Stop,” she laughs. “I love you too. It won’t be too long before we see each other, you know. I don’t think you’ll make it a month without asking me to fly out because you miss me.”

“I’m going to injure myself on purpose so I can come back here and have you take care of me,” Trevor jokes.

Honey slaps his shoulder. “Don’t joke about that, I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says. “It would make me sad.”

Trevor’s smile softens. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you sad.” He looks at Honey for an extra beat, then cradles her face in his hands and kisses her gently.

It’s really sweet. They’ve never really kissed like this, soft, chaste, and savoring it. Honey fists the fabric of Trevor’s t-shirt in her hands, focusing on his taste and how he moves. Yeah, they probably will see each other in a month, but she will probably forget how he kisses by then. It’ll be like new when she goes to California– ugh, she has to go to California of all places to see her boyfriend because he has an intense job– and Honey can’t wait.

When his hand goes to her butt and gropes her asscheek, she breaks their kiss. 

“Come on, one last feel,” Trevor requests. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face because he knows that Honey will let him. 

“I have something better for you, you freak,” Honey tells him. She shoves her hand into her pocket and curls her fingers around the polaroids, fishing them out and pushing the stack into Trevor’s chest. 

He’s excited at the prospect of getting a gift, delight written on his face. He covers Honey’s hand, which covers the polaroids, and takes a peek at the first picture in the stack. His mouth automatically drops open and his face goes slack. He stares at the picture, looks at Honey, and doubles back down on the picture.

Honey feels a creeping shiver pass between her shoulderblades, whispering doubt into the back of her mind. You’ve given these pictures to him and it’s the start of the end, the voice purrs. Honey pushes it back, watching Trevor’s reaction instead. He’s terrible at hiding things on his face and Honey believes that if he’s going to abuse the boudoir pictures she just gave him, she’ll be able to see it in his expression.

“Holy shit, Hon,” Trevor says. He shoves the pictures back into her hands. “I can’t take these. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

It’s not the reaction Honey expected. She furrows her eyebrows together and asks genuinely, “Do you not… like them?”

Trevor’s eyes are wide. “No, God, no, you look so good and I like them, like, a lot, but because of what happened with Thomas–”

“Oh,” Honey says. “It’s– I wanted to show you that I trust you,” she explains. She pushes the pictures back at him. “I made them for you, I want you to have them.”

“I don’t,” Trevor struggles to say what he means, it seems. He looks at the pictures again, unable to help it, and lifts his eyes to the sky. He hides the pictures against his chest. “I don’t need them, if that’s what you think.”

“No.” Honey puts her hands on Trevor’s lovehandles and kisses him. “I want you to take them. They’re yours. Please take them.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, but weighs her words in his mind. After a moment, he shoves the pictures in his shorts pocket and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “You’re so special to me, Honey.”

“You’re overwhelming,” Honey replies, unable to find a word to describe how she feels about Trevor except for ‘overwhelming.’ He is. It’s not a bad thing, not at all. Honey adores Trevor.

Trevor’s mouth touches Honey’s forehead and stays there. She burrows her nose against his clavicle and breathes in deep. 

Trevor’s car horn sounds twice by Cole’s hand.

Trevor takes a deep breath and sighs. “I have to go,” he whispers.

Honey loosens her grip around his middle and kisses him one more time. “I’ll see you soon.”

It feels momentous when Trevor lets go of her and steps away. She’s not crying, but she feels like she could start any second. 

Bea joins Honey at the top of the driveway. Trevor’s car leads, honking far too jubilantly for the sadness weaving between Honey and Bea’s bodies like a cat brushing against their legs. The Hughes boys’ car follows after, and then they’re gone. Honey still feels their presence like a ghost, even as she and Bea push up the tailgate of Earl’s truck and head out themselves.

EPILOGUE – TREVOR

He thinks about her all the time. California is warm, but Trevor finds himself wearing Scarlett’s mismatched sweater more days than he doesn’t. It’s comfortable, and for a while, it smells like Litchton. He sits on his ugly couch, the one that Colangelo and McTavish make fun of, and watches the sunset through the windows of his house. It becomes a familiar routine. It’s usually too late to call Honey once he gets back from games since she’s three hours ahead, so Trevor finds other ways to express the things he wants to say to her. He’d text them, but that’s too brazen– he wants to speak to Honey and then let the words disappear forever. 

So, he sends letters. Out of sight, out of mind– once the letter leaves Trevor’s hand and makes its way into his mail carrier’s bag, the words are gone. It’s intimate and Honey has told Trevor many times over how much she likes receiving his letters, so much more than if she received the same thoughts over the phone. She always sends something back in a colorful envelope and Trevor traces her handwriting when he really misses her. 

With her permission, he’d included her in his summer dump on Instagram. He saw a few comments wondering who she and the other girl were, “the other girl” being Bea, but he never saw anything mean. He’d have exhausted all of his resources to hunt down any cyberbully who decided to take out their own insecurity on his girlfriend. He’d reported back his findings dutifully, telling Honey that everyone thought she was so pretty and out of his league. Honey had agreed.

Trevor had dutifully reported on summer dumps two other times: when Jack included the picture that Earl took of them at the going away party, Bea slung over his shoulder, and when Quinn quietly included a picture of Bea asleep on the couch in the basement, her hand wrapped loosely around his first two fingers. Her face was mostly obscured, but Trevor wasn’t sure if he should say something or not, so he’d asked Honey. Her face had gotten stormy– which was pretty cute, if Trevor is allowed to say that– but the picture had stayed up. Trevor is sure Honey and Bea handled it and he has a feeling that Bea might’ve felt a semblance of nostalgia when he’d screenshotted and sent the photo to her when she asked. They’re still broken up and not talking, but Trevor doesn’t know how long they can hold out. Honey says that Bea misses Quinn badly, but she’s still too stubborn to do anything. Trevor knows that Quinn is too stubborn to go against Bea’s wishes.

About a month into the season, Trevor wears the sweater to a game. Honey still hasn’t made it out to visit yet and Trevor is getting restless. He has a great game– greater than great– so it’s no surprise that he’s pulled for media after he showers and gets dressed, pulling the sweater on once again. 

Aly, the rinkside reporter, pulls him aside for a more one-on-one chat. Trevor expects that it’ll get clipped and thrown on the Ducks’ socials. They get all the way through the interview before she asks about his fashion choice. “This sweater is clearly handmade, so chic,” she adds on the side. “Where did you get it?”

“A friend made it for me,” Trevor replies. “This summer. It was a going away present, actually.”

“Well, it was a real good luck charm here tonight. You got your first career hat trick– do you think this luck will continue for you for the rest of the season?”

Trevor nods, only half-listening. He just caught a whiff of bonfire from the sweater, a scent memory that is accompanied by the creaking trees that shaded his balcony from wandering eyes. They didn’t make enough use of it. “I hope so,” he tells Aly. 

“It’s a wonderful start, given the rut you fell into last season after your injury. What are you doing differently?”

Trevor tries not to balk at the blatant mention of his broken ankle, the Jamie trade, and his struggles to come back from those events. He rubs his right eye with a closed fist and forces a tight smile on his face, speaking more honestly than he normally allows himself to. “I told my girlfriend that every goal I score this season is for her, so I have to score a lot. Keep me on her mind, you know?”

Aly chuckles. “You’ve got to find motivation somewhere,” she says good-naturedly. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“Yeah, thanks, Aly,” he replies. He walks back into the locker room, ready to grab his bag and his keys and book it out of the arena so that he can crash on his bed, when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He slips it out, catching his favorite contact name on the screen. He can hear the eye roll as if she’s talking to him, right next to his ear.

🍯:

Don’t fucking bring me into thisI don’t want crowds of famous Trevor Zegras’ hockey groupies in Litchton when you come back next summer

Then, a few minutes later:

Nice sweater ;)

THANK YOU FOR READING!!! I LOVE YOU!!!! XO, ANDY P.S. See you in Beaquinn's book ;)

[princeoftheeternalbog]

OP characters reacting to you kissing them and running away :) PART TWO🤸 (here is part 1) established relationship ish.

Some lovely person requested Shanks, Benn, Doffy and Crocodile! I decided to include Shanks, Benn, Crocodile, Jinbei, Mihawk, Rayleigh and Buggy (the old man brigade tbh).

I did try to write for doflamingo but I hate him so much I just couldn't do it😭😭.

Might be suggestive so mdni!

Shanks

Tbh depends on what side you do it.

If it's his left side then he just notes it in his head so he can get pay back later. If its his right side you're done for.

Immediately snatches you as soon as you try to run away, "Oho what do we have here? a thief?", gets right in your face with this cocky ass smirk that kinda makes you want to slap him and also makeout. Also his grip is intense, you will not be able to wiggle out. After he lost his arm he had to be able to make up that strength so yk.

Benn

Side eye. He looks at you so disapprovingly that you just apologise immediately instead of trying to run away...however this was a trap and he uses the opportunity to SNATCH you off the ground and into his arms. Laughs if you scream tbh. He always has to have the last laugh and he plays dirty, and somehow you manage to fall for these tricks almost every time so he enjoys this immensely. He doesn't even care how "unfair" it is, afterall you're so easy to tease so why would he not indulge-

Buggy

Screams in outrage.

"HOW CAN YOU DO THAT AND JUST RUN AWAY" chases after you😞 really aggressively😞.

Tbh it's kinda cute like in hindsight because it makes him really flustered but like in the moment its like WHAT THE FUCK. yk yk. You better hope he doesn't catch you because he will not be merciful in his pay back, though he would never hurt you. Hes just not used to pda and he definitely has cuteness aggression so he just wants to bite you when you're so sweet to him.

Crocodile

You don't get away.

The second you lean in his arm is curling around your waist to hold you still while he puts all his focus into kissing you back, it's literally like one hand cradling your jaw while he licks into your mouth. He doesn't care if anybody else is there, in fact he enjoys it because he gets to show off that you are his partner. After that he'll keep you with him for as long as possible, doesn't care if you have stuff to do and he absolutely will manhandle you if you try to leave😭.

Mihawk

Lets you run away, like he'll follow you but he just walks and it's somehow way scarier than being caught straight away😟. The look he gives you as you start to step back just makes your stomach flip and your knees go weak. He turns it into some horrifying game which is basically just him stalking you like a predator (👁️👁️). Somehow manages to lead you into a dead end even though you're the one in front ???? "Oh dear, it seems you made a wrong turn hm?". Absolutely will stop if you start getting uncomfortable, he just enjoys teasing you.

Jinbei

Really playful and sweet :(. Laughs so loud because he's surprised and just watches you run off. He will absolutely do the same thing back and it's just so unexpected that it usually makes you forget about whatever you were supposed to be doing. Tries to catch you sometimes depending on his mood, like he'll straight up snatch you from the ground so he can hold you in his arms, HES SO CUTE :(. Also I think he blushes very easily even though he's quite cool-headed.

Rayleigh

Another playful one, tries to catch you in like a non scary way and is absolutely willing to make a fool of himself to make you laugh. Though if he thinks you're doing it in order to tease him then he will give the same energy back. Like he won't give you time to run away, he just steps into your little personal bubble and his hands settle on your waist like steel, "Leaving so soon honey?" RAHHH SHUT UP!!!! He's so fine and he knows it and it makes him despicable.

[cusackswhitehair]

hey im back again.. would you also be up for doing romantic hcs about the bellham/suspicious man too? this part isn't exactly tied to the request, but i imagine whoever he dates to be super weird too considering he says he has deviant tastes. like he could be walking around smelling like straight ethanol and his spouse would just be like

//Desc: TW: Suggestive content (pretty lukewarm don’t worry) Scurrying back for more love to give to these kooks? Sure thing, would do the same thing. Especially with Bellham, I realized I really like writing for him, the guy is such a character. Writing for outlandishly eldritch-ass characters always hits so close to home, like the man would be tucking you in bed at night, kissing your forehead and in the next moment he’s going “Wrong. Bedbug Infestation.” Bellham, the man you are. Thanks for requesting as always! \\

⋆｡𖦹 🪢 Bellham/Suspicious Man Romantic Headcanons 🧪 ⋆｡𖦹

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Bellham, while he wallows in the thought of others struggling in their own minds’ captivity, he’s quite a hedonist himself. Living for his — and his beloveds’ wayward pleasures and tendencies is a must. He’s also prone to worship his admired lover, to cherish them with his eyes’ field, to make them know their worth and superiority. He will quite literally feed you grapes doused in honey. If you were a jewel, he would wear you everywhere, no doubt.

His headless henchmen will also start to serve you, like a secondary master, jumping at your feet like loyal underlings. They are quite sweet and Bellham ( kind of on a “Mi casa es tu casa” basis ) doesn’t even bat an eye, perhaps he’ll click his tongue in dissatisfaction when the henchmen would get a little too pushy on serving you. He would also pull little pranks on them to entertain you, jingling their bell heads while they run around to get it back, all in vain.

If his darling is willing to do so, he will tell them endlessly about his unquenchable interest about Enas. All his observations and fixation materialize in you getting interested in the matter aswell, leading to many unorthodox conversations.

Bellham has been all around the globe, a well travelled man who would love to share all of his observations about this mad, idiosyncratic world. A lot of travels and escapades come into place, where Bellham will be an eager tour guide.

Despite having a rather unnerving look to him, you can spread him on bread for all you know, he’s a sweetheart is what he is. To you at least. Speaking of hands, if his beloved appriciates physical affection, he is more than happy to give it to them. He does have quite the number of hands on him, hugs from those paws are top-notch. Not to mention he can just yoink you right away with the hand under his torso. “OHH. Precious. You Must Know. That I am. All Hand No. Bite. Heheheh.”

Bellham is inclined to enjoy a little ruthless, cruel fun from time to time, but only to entertain his dear lover, of course! He would trap helpless little bugs with his thread and laugh as they would scuffle, toss and turn around in the red weft. “Caught In A Skirmish. Aren’t YOU? Your Worst. FEAR. Doomed Upon YOU. Captivity.” “Oh, Bellham you’re just so wise!”

Of course, if it’s to his beloveds’ heart ( and because he’s a freak ) he will use his threads on you. Even non-suggestively, Bellham will enjoy tying a knot on your finger to express a form of deep companionship and dependence. If it’s on the other way around however… he knows his way around kinbaku and ropes.

With everything in mind, he isn’t perfect unfortunately. Bellham is terrible at texting. Just don’t expect him to get any better. He capitalizes every single word and puts a period right after, it’s a pain to read it. If he even manages to stumble upon GIFS, brace yourself to get the most cheesy, eye sore of a GIF ( probably one of those disgusting, glittery “Good Morning, Have a Great Day” ones ). You can see he’s trying his best.

With all his deviant tastes, Bellham is still quite old fashoined when it comes to love. He would leave flowers at your door all of the time, so don’t be afraid when his henchmen turn up at your door and summon the most breathtaking bouquet of flowers.

Whether their partner likes it or not, and no matter how hard it is to say this, he does smell funky. But not in a way a human being, or any living organism would define smelling “funky” should smell. It’s more of a chemical smell that pricks your nose awhile, you won’t get sick though. Only lovesick if that counts!

It does take some time to get accustomed to all of Bellhams’ antics, but if you do, the next step is to try to outweird him. He does enjoy his partner opening for his deviancies, and don’t think you can’t surprise the old fellow.

————————————————————————————

PS: I’ve temporarily closed requests, hopefully not for long, but a good amount of asks have accumulated, so until I finish all of these, it shall be closed ouuuuuuuuuu👻👻👻 Also I got hooked on the game Thronglets from Black Mirror, so those rascals eat up my time too lmaooo

[eldritch-spouse]

I need a threesome with Comie(?) and Pebble. Just I need to be knotted as I suck off honeyboi.

P. S Love you Pinnie. Thank you for your hard work 🙏

[It's "Colmei", but you got it basically. You didn't really specify, so I'm putting you in the "Admin" role. Love you too! <3 Fem reader.]

TW: Knotting; Food cum (as in, it's literal honey); Slight cultish themes.

The bug monster always intrigued you.

He wasn't made by The Clergy's Eye. Your lord didn't weave him into existence either.

That you know of, this... Man? Male. He just showed up. Installed himself in the garden. A ridiculous notion, it really reminds you of Fank-e.

You recall the initial commotion.

Krulu had been alerted to the entity's prolonged presence and effectively wanted to remove said unknown monster from his grounds. Because, after all, if he wasn't there to make some sort of exchange and be sapped at like the rest, then he was a waste of space and resources- Especially when the uncivilized monster decided to station his colony in the garden.

What stopped your lord from rightfully removing the witless intruder from his domain were the desperate plights of Patches and Nebul, both undead monsters exhibiting great fascination with the likes of Colmei, as he's come to be called. You don't even remember which of the two baptized him anymore... When push came to shove, you chose to voice an opinion, siding with your coworkers. Not to spite Krulu, never. You truly just shared their fascination with the bee man. Besides, the garden actively benefits from the actions of his well-coordinated bees, that can't be denied.

And he was left alone, begrudgingly.

"Bee man" is a misleading term. From what little of his body you've seen, he's nothing like a bee-based monster at all. If anything, you'd liken him more to a parasitic entity inhabiting the garbs of a medieval beekeeper, like a snail's shell. His sleeves are always long and down, like Nebul's. His mask is usually always in place, and although many people would wonder about the monster's ability to see, you know better. You've learned a lot in your time working here. Masks and lack of visible ocular organs means nothing. You know Colmei can see his surroundings the same way you can- And even if you didn't, Patches' extensive research on the specimen more than proves it. He can circumvent objects in his path without scent or palping, he can differentiate colors, he has depth and perception like a human's, a field of vision standard in your species. He's a little wonder, you've combed -Pun intended- through reports on him more than once.

And, although he's not officially recognized as a "garden anomaly" by anyone here, you lump information about him next to Hellion and Pebble's cases. In fact, now that you recall things, didn't Pebble form after Colmei's arrival? Probably, you'll have to check later. The two get along well enough, which already can't be said about Hellion's relationship with the bee caretaker. Then again, Hellion has a strong personality, to say the least...

Speaking of, you're sacrificing some of your free time this morning to satisfy one of Patches' requests. He needs a sample from Colmei. Saliva was easy enough to get, the monster does eat, and with those three slobbering tongues you've caught glimpses of, it was hard to miss a chance to get a swab of his drool. The problem came when Patches attempted to get a "seed sample". You've long since stopped questioning why he wants to work with reproductive fluids, and considering the stunts you've seen this dullahan pull using a variety of organic elements, you have to at least admit there's some merit to what superficially comes off as pure depravity. Even if you'd like it if he stopped obsessing over homunculi...

Patches is old, he knows what he's doing sometimes.

Point being, whenever the undead tries to get handsy with Colmei, the bug monster blatantly rejects him, buzzing angrily. He doesn't often fall for traps either. Relatively speaking, you'd assume Colmei would be very receptive to sexual attention ever since he discovered ejaculation is harmless, in much the same way Belo underwent a somewhat prolonged lustful fever the moment he was bedded by you and lord Krulu. And, effectively, Colmei spends an inordinate amount of time stimulating himself, perhaps in an effort to make up for all the times he was left frustrated and hopelessly libidinous for no reason. Although he frequently brings himself to completion, the garden inhabitant doesn't allow people to approach him sexually often. Santi was briefly allowed to stroke him through his garb, but the moment the demon attempted to get a better feel, he was quickly hissed and buzzed at.

You think the incubus is still a little sore over that. Heh.

Nevertheless, you've decided you'll get this over and done with it today. Because you're not just anybody, you're the Administrator of this establishment, and what needs to be done will get done, so help you.

It's all a matter of waiting. Colmei's going to get bothered at any moment, you know he has nothing better to do in the mornings, because his hive has adapted to The Clergy's Eye's schedule. His army of bees all remain mostly dormant within early mornings, because the garden's flowers too are dormant, meaning there's no pollen to collect. That's just how this tilted world is. Cleverly, they rest and save energy for the evenings and nights. Colmei wakes from slumber much earlier however, has to, acting as a guard for his smaller colony elements.

You've been sitting on a lonely bench (who, miraculously, isn't Sybastian) for a while now, bidding your time. Occasionally, you'll make conversation with your currently busy higher, other times you'll catch Hellion shift in his sleep atop a tree's fat branch. Generally, you don't have much trouble sitting placidly, rolling the tube-like vial in-between your gloved fingers. Some people get maddened by the waiting game, Krulu has taught you better.

Your first plan of action is simple, coaxing. If that fails, which it just might, there's no doubt in you something can be schemed. This is far from the most daunting of challenges you've taken on.

Time passes, the fog hugging your home's dark walls recedes ever so gently, some of the plant life sways and plumps, as if the building is yawning, waking itself up. The fountain comes alive, sprinkling water in all the wrong directions, as usual. Today, it sports a curious, hourglass shape, adorned with well-sculped crows seemingly flocking around it. Lord-Master would enjoy the sight of it if he was paying attention to your whereabouts right now.

From then on, it's fairly soon when you hear a more pronounced buzz coming from the sides of the establishment. Seeing as it's usually quite silent this time of day, it can only be the beekeeper. You smile knowingly, aware of what he'll most likely be doing in a little while.

Rising, measured, slow and muted footsteps carry you closer to the source of the sound. You trail the edges of your establishment, ears almost twitching with the way they're perked at every insect-like noise. When those sounds dip into a slightly familiar rhythm, strong but interspersed with breaks of abrupt silence, like gasping, your pace quickens.

Turning around the front left edge of the building, you see him there, predictably. Colmei leans against the dark brick walls of The Clergy, some fair distance away from the oversized colony structure attached to it. Monochrome robes pool messily around his hips, held there by pitch black arms that dip between full thighs and grasp a humanoid appendage with fervor.

It's a silly thing to say, but being that you've witnessed so many foreign genital configurations, it's become a novelty to find a "proper" set on monsters these days. You'd expect something as bizarre as Colmei to sport a wet and curling thing moving this way and that, but no- There it sits, humanoid balls beneath a humanoid shaft. Very odd indeed.

He's doing exactly what you predicted he would, somewhat clumsily palming and squeezing himself, grip on the base of his cock but mostly static. He may have learned to bring himself to fruition, but he's not practiced at it, perhaps that's why he spends so much time agonizing like this. Once more, you'd think masturbatory motions would come near instinctively to the parasitic entity, yet that doesn't seem to be the case. The head of his already slick cock drips something incredibly viscous to the ground, this darkened orange-ish string that, if seen from afar, could almost be mistaken for something else.

You've seen traces of it on the garden at times, spattered messily atop flowerbeds. Patches could just collect one of those and use it, but he insists they're not appropriate, have been tainted. Frankly, you think he just wants an excuse to make someone touch the garden monster.

Amused, you observe Colmei clumsily paw at himself, throbbing against nothing, chest filling out as he tries to angle his legs in a better position. He almost figures out how to cant them well, then gives up. It's as endearing as it is aggravating to watch. You think he made an odd droning cry at some point. You're getting as frustrated as he is just watching him try to find a good method. Part of you only wants to rush there and hold those meaty hands over his length properly, pump him decently, make him curl his grasp here and there, grab his full balls and slap his ass when he finally gets the gist of it. One would assume Colmei would get the hang of it by watching the drunk stragglers that stumble into the garden and beat off in their highs. Then again, usually something ends up happening to them.

Stepping into the very corner of Colmei's field of vision -Well, assuming his vision isn't totally tunneled, which it might be- You make a soft coo at the monster.

He heard it. Heard it very well. You commend his alertness even in a state distracted by arousal.

For a second, you wondered if the unknowable monster man was going to jump out of his robes, face swinging immediately in your direction and pitifully small wings spreading. It reminds you of Belo when he's upset, minus the parakeet fluffing. Whatever angry noise was beginning to rattle in his abdomen is halted when he realizes who's standing in front of him.

Garden anomalies have a primal, inherent understanding of the dynamics of The Clergy. They know who your lord is, can feel his work and his presence everywhere. They know to respect him, and they understand who his vessel is. As such, you're very often treated with less mischievous intent and never shown a wink of genuine hostility unless they're deeply aggravated by an exterior agent. Colmei isn't a garden anomaly however, which makes his similar reactions all the more interesting. He learned from the others that you're a figure to be cautiously regarded, to be mildly subservient to.

Maybe he can sense Krulu, maybe he can't- It's still hilarious that he treats you like an untouchable figure just because others are doing it.

Which is to say, your hypothesis here is that he won't deny your advances because he thinks more of you than he does the rest of the staff.

Colmei's buzzing is now muted and soft, uncertain. Incredibly enough, his static hand is still wrapped around a neglected member. Though you can clearly gouge he's extremely tense right now.

" Colmei. "

He reacts to the word, perking, knowing that's what he's called in these grounds.

" Come here. "

There's a communication barrier between you and the beekeeper, sure. But he's been learning the language ever since his stay here. He knows what those words mean, especially when you do a curt beckoning gesture. If your lord were available now, he'd facilitate the conversation, but alas. You're no baby, you'll get this done on your own.

When the beekeeper doesn't move a muscle, your first step forward is measured, the two of you watching each other like hawks in a standstill. That's definitely not the energy you're going for, so you put on a smile, glancing from his covered complexion to the treat he clutches and licking your lips. Come on...

Colmei's wings flutter, though stubbornly, he doesn't meet you.

Cautious steps turn to confident struts, unbothered by his evident turmoil. You halt right up close to Colmei, seeing the way he breathes faster, the noise of something wet shifting behind that grayed mask. Knowing he's clearly deliberating, you don't reach for the goal immediately, in fact, you just stare at him with a soft expression.

The pressure cracks him.

Colmei ultimately leans down, the bottom of his head garbs brushing barely on the crook of your neck. Whether it was done just to have contact or to somehow smell you, is irrelevant. Smiling, you gently crane your head, shifting to push cloth away, such so that the monster can see more of your neck. There's a sound by your ears, something being dislodged, pushed aside by a slimy protrusion that eagerly splays itself on bare skin, laving, relishing.

The noise you make in response is only a little bit hammed up. It does feel nice, but riling him up is more important right now. When the monster makes a strange rolling croon, soft and high, you inch closer to trail gloved fingertips on his right inner thigh, a teasing back and forth that might frustrate another male, but he seems content with it. Progress is made when the beekeeper's previously static hand jolts to life, stroking over himself more avidly than before, though still as clumsy. Another gross extremity comes to slobber on your neck, the two twining occasionally in the monster's enthusiasm. Drool is seeping into your clothes. Although your digits creep upwards just a tiny bit more with every to and fro, you bide your time.

He parts his legs further, almost imperceptibly so, and paired with his erratic wing flicking, you take it as an invitation. Colmei stiffens, in many ways, the moment you follow the curve of his balls and trace the root of him, hand venturing to join his and stroke his girth in tandem. It was sensuous, scrupulous, lazy.

But it was still too much.

The beekeeper jars, jumping away from your touch and presence in surprising speeds for such a large body. Monochrome robes are pushed down and he makes a distinctly hostile buzz much like the roar of an engine. Though, as quickly as it reverbs through the garden, Colmei appears to get a flash of self-awareness and strangles the rest of the cry into a high-pitched squeal. You raise an unamused eyebrow at him, watching incredulously when the hive guardian merely recedes into the distance, turning around the edge of the building to avoid you.

Hm.

Well that's a mission failed, for sure.

A bitter taste settles on your tongue. The defeat of sexual rejection is something you haven't had to deal with in a long time, although, Colmei's evident fear of being stimulated by another is amusing enough to wave that frustration away as you snicker to yourself. What is he doing now? Just sulking in the corner with a throbbing cock and tightened nuts? If he jerks off now and ruins your chance to get that sample, you're going to be so livid. What a pussbag.

...

Speaking of cowards...

A depraved little lightbulb dawns over your head.

You're going to lure Colmei into letting you touch him, by making him want to participate. But, for this next stunt, you need a volunteer. Not just anyone will do, criteria dictates said third element needs to have a moderately positive bond with the beekeeper.

You're not going to bother staff while they prepare for the day. Hellion is like a pest to Colmei, a nuisance in a good day. That leaves dear old Pebble.

Workable.

The fog that seems to poise over this infrastructure, shielding it, bathing the premises in properties you can't exactly comprehend, also affects plenty of the beings that inhabit this space. Naturally. The flock of gargoyles that's settled on the roof, the standard ones that is, seldom ever turns to stone in plain daylight.

You and Patches have conversed about this, it's likely due to the way the fog mutes some of the sunlight's qualities. Whatever sort of biological signals determine a gargoyle should enter "stone sleep" are filtered out. That's not to deny that there exist days where the sun is so potent it still manages to turn most into statues.

Pebble is odd. Of course he is, he's a mutant of the garden -Your sweet spawn of Krulu- But it seems he only partially turns to stone for a very brief span of time. You've caught him in states that weren't quite sleep nor consciousness, body shifting in jerky motions as he instinctively tried to stretch, looking around, but not able to move much aside from a step or two in ambiguous directions.

This half-awake half-asleep state appears to bother the gargoyle, so he's cleverly taken to nesting in spots that provide shade during the day, keeping himself mostly shielded and avoiding having his body paralyzed. In fact, you bet you won't have to search too much for him at all! Venturing to the opposite side of The Clergy's exterior, there's a flattish roof area there he tends to pick often. Although you could scale the building with your lord's arms, that likely won't be necessary.

" Pebble. " You call softly.

A few moments of silence pass.

" ... Pebble! " Comes out slightly more forcefully.

It's always a bit tricky with him. You don't want to raise your voice and make him accidentally interpret that you're angry at him. Having one monster run off is enough.

There's a sigh. " Damn it. Pebb- "

With a soft sort of click click clack of clawtips on darkened tiles, a paperbag clad head peeks out from the edge, followed by its twin.

The mutant offers you a confused, nervous glance, pinprick eye blinking tiredly before darting every which way. Yes yes, no one really likes getting woken from their beauty sleep. You understand him perfectly.

" Hi lovely. " Gentle gentle, he stares at you, still as quizzical as before. " Wanna come down here for a second? I need your help. "

The gargoyle hesitates. He always does, though you take no offense to it. That's just how he is. A good deal of time has passed ever since Pebble was welcomed into The Clergy, and the anomaly has come to trust some of the staff, you being one of them. If you didn't know better, you'd say he feels safe around you at times.

Making a brief come hither gesture, you wink cheekily at the blue mutant. " I promise it'll be fine. You can go back to sleep when I'm done. "

Another long pause settles, his arms steadying the monster on the roof. Patience is affordable today, you can't rush this plan, after all. So you merely stand there, silently and passively exerting pressure on the garden anomaly. It always works.

In a moment, robust wings stretch and flap, as if waking themselves up as well, and Pebble gets into position, leaping from the tall roof, down onto several sections, finally landing a small distance beside you with this ground-shaking-

THUNK

Yes, being made of solid, compact stone is quite perilous... Between him and the robot, you wonder which one's mass is more destructive.

Nevertheless, with the gargoyle now approachable, you calmly stroll over and smile, taking a rough blue hand onto yours. Pebble's fingers twitch a little and he makes a curious chuff, ruby eye ever trained on you. Twin tails lash behind him when you bring the stone to your lips for a chaste kiss, his breath hitches timidly.

" Thank you. " You start, softly leading the comparatively large monster back to where you were when Colmei rejected you. The longer you walk, the more antsy your friend seems to get. " I promise I don't want anything weird. "

Lord knows the dullahan and the wraith massacred poor Pebble for details when he was formed. Just as they did Hellion, though that aptly named scoundrel has always had a lot more swipe and bite in him.

As you halt, you sadly confirm that the beekeeper is nowhere to be seen. Something that won't matter in the long run, yet still manages to peeve you a tad.

" Pebble- " You turn to the gargoyle. " Do you want to fuck me? "

For all the gentleness you had been sparing him thus far, that was quite the bold invitation.

When that red pinprick turns into an even smaller little dot in the pitch black, jagged hole of his bag, it's hard to resist cackling. He was most definitely caught off-guard, hunching, letting out a breath he had been holding. Silence ensues, though he's not stepping away, so you'll assume his libido will overpower that cowardice today. There's something almost suspicious about the way he regards you. As if he can't quite bring himself to believe you've woken him from a dead sleep... Just to fuck him.

And he's right.

You have ulterior motives, but, even if he can't tell, there are virtually no downsides to it. So you might as well have just woken him for a romp, yes.

Pebble eventually makes an unintelligible garble and twiddles his thumbs, sparing you quick glances. A sort of "Are you sure I can?" if there ever was one.

Hah, cute.

Unable to hide the mirth in your smirk, you giggle and loop your arms around the monster's hard waist, observing the fascinating way an unholy union of stone and flesh mold when his chest heaves in surprise. He's gruesome and pretty all at once, the garden did exceptionally well when it created Pebble.

" Is that a 'yes' I see? " You mock, receiving shy, unsynchronized nodding from both heads. " Good, then let's not waste any time. "

You pull the gargoyle along while taking several steps backwards, until your outfit brushes against the building's wall. Although clearly interested, Pebble never usually takes much of an initiative. Not because he doesn't want to, you can see it in the way his extremities twitch and his tails impatiently sway, it's always that unknowable fear keeping him at bay, that insecurity. It's far from a turn off though, and such is seen when you slide your work dress up, hearing him chuff at the sight of your laced panties when the fabric gathers at your hips.

Poor little baby, getting bothered already.

You do like these panties, they've been a favorite pair of yours because of how transparent they are, and many of the staff members have admired them already. You don't think Pebble has though, so you drink in his witless arousal like an impeccable wine. A gloved digit unceremoniously peels your panties to the side, and you're sure he can smell the very first hints of wetness gathering on your pussylips, because he does that distinct sort of shnort that a lot of monsters do when they sense an easy hole.

Grabbing his hand once more, you first take care to bring those clawed fingers to your mouth. Sure, it's not exactly the softest sensation gliding on your tongue, but that doesn't matter. What you want to do is get him as slippery as possible to facilitate things, and rile rouse him further. It works wonderfully in your favor, the mutant huffing and making an odd sort of impatient whimper. Your motions are lazy, making sure you have some eye contact as you intentionally let yourself drool heavily on him, strings of it already coating your chin when you make a quiet moan around his digits.

Pebble showcases a rare display of assertiveness when he ever so subtly slides more of his two fingers into your mouth, and you bob to accompany him, flustering the anomaly to stillness again. You know he'd rather have something else in there. The look of mild awe that crosses his face when you release his now soaked fingers is borderline hilarious. He plays with the drool around his digits sheepishly and you only titter quietly as you lead that very same hand to the main prize.

The gargoyle grunts, more than enjoying the softness of your already mildly interested pussy against himself. Sometimes you wonder what he thinks of others, who are so much softer than him. Does he enjoy that, their comparative warmth? Is it something he wishes he could have? You bet it feels really nice for him to lean onto his partners, sink into plush, giving bodies such as yours.

With a soft pat to the back of his palm, Pebble grasps the signal that he's meant to move, though only tentatively strokes over the length of your entrance, afraid it'll bite or something. Your patience wavers, gripping him and making harsher motions, letting him know you like to get your clit rolled hard. The mutant purrs when you let out pleased sighs, dipping into soft moans. Finally, he starts moving that big hand on his own, offering as much pleasure as he can in a slightly clumsy but very eager to please way. There's another frantic growl-keen when you buck against him. Humorously, when Pebble sinks one of his fingers into you, knuckle deep, he makes a sound as if he had sunk his whole cock into your walls, shuddering and everything.

This time, your laughter is loud and hearty, startling the mutant. " No no- " You stress when it feels as if he's going to pull away. " You're doing so well, please keep going. I can take more. "

Praise, ever the fuel for the hearts of the devoted, gets him to resume, curling his finger slightly and delighting in the unflattering wet noise that follows, before squeezing a saliva-soaked twin inside as well. You fear he's going to melt, at this rate. The small stretch has you groaning and squeezing, encouraging him to plunge into your cunt to his heart's content.

" Fuck yeah, open me up for your fat cock. "

That one apparently sent him wild, because he does just that. The haze of sleep vanishes off his body instantly, and the monster curves to be closer, watching his own blue digits get swallowed by your sweet hole, coating him in slick the harder he gives it to you. It's always a treat when Pebble's brave enough to be remotely dominant, because his natural density adds a weight to his every motion that easily rocks those subjected to them. Your head leans back and you fully give into the stings of pleasure that pierce you every so often, mouth open in a satisfied expression he's likely eating up right now.

When the gargoyle's noises become frequent and louder, you have the wherewithal to glance down, seeing the growth throbbing between his legs, dripping precum along its length and almost twitching in tandem with every clench of your cunt. He's beyond needy, and in a short span of time, which is ideal. Reeling at your own filthy little ideas, you shove his hand out of your opening and pull the monster closer. It takes a little bit for Pebble to get it, but he eventually hunches enough to make up for the height difference, such so that you can grab the head of his red, knub-adorned cock and press it to your soaked pussy.

Pebble groans incomprehensibly, immediately starting to hump, gliding that hot length across you in a way that allows you to feel every slight protrusion. You cry out and grind against each other for a couple of disgraceful, horny little moments, with you mischievously tugging at the roots of his tails just to feel the gargoyle's ass flex briefly. He's adorable.

The moment the winged monster tries to angle himself differently, obviously seeking to penetrate, you lightly push him off. Don't want to ruin the best part of the plan just yet now, do you?

Pebble whines, the spare head growls.

" Oh shush. "

You don't want to do this here, in the pavement. You're sure Pebble won't give two shits about how hard the ground is, but you'd rather not ruin your outfit or scrape yourself right now. Instead, you lead him to the closest flowerbed. As much as you'd like to playfully throw Pebble onto it, he's pretty immovable in his default state, so you can only push and ineffectively try to tickle your winged lover boy until he gets the message.

Twisted, misshapen and teeth-clad flowers unroot, scattering on strange hidden limbs with startled squeaks when the gargoyle lays on his back, wings spread and member pointing upwards. You're quick to jump onto him, and even if you spare the mutant some loving moments full of pecks to his chest and belly, even allowing him to feel your tits when you begin undoing the top part of your dress, you very quickly turn around on his lower abdomen.

He gets a fantastic view of your full ass as you grind generously over his girth, teasing the two of you further. When trembling hands scheme the globes of your behind and settle on plushy hips, you let the gargoyle ground himself, rising slightly to line yourself up with him. A tongue flicks over dry lips, eyeing the not yet fattened knot at the base of his length.

You make sure every soul in this establishment hears it when you slam yourself onto Pebble's cock.

" HNN OHHN- "

It rings out just as loudly as you wanted it to, followed by Pebble's strangled garble before he audibly gulps and seems to pause from the reaction he ripped out of you. The silence around you becomes bashful, like you rattled the building and its residents to stillness. If Santi was here, he'd commend you for the pornstar moan.

You've no doubt you've roused a couple of peepers. There's a faint tingle in the back of your mind, Krulu now tangentially paying attention to what's happening. You suppose hearing his vessel cry out like a bitch in heat out of nowhere is more than a little curious.

After that little break where you watch Pebble disappear almost entirely into you, squeezing around his hardness, feeling him buck his hips softly in desperation, you smile and let yourself go, riding him to your heart's content.

Leaning forward, hands planted firmly on his legs, you use as much force as you need to make each pound downward really count. You're not afraid of being too rough, Pebble's sturdy, he can deal with the slap of your ass on his body, with the mad squeeze of your spasming pussy around those perfect bumps, stopping periodically just to grind and rip more filthy noises out of yourself.

He tries, boy does he try to do anything, but you're too much for him. Too confident, too hot, too wet and welcoming. Pebble can only whimper out nonsensical pleas, heaving and panting hard enough you can hear his paper bags crumple when his teeth accidentally catch them. He groans and drools, not that you can see the small pool of it between his tits as he watches your gorgeous form bounce, fruitlessly attempting to feed into your merciless rhythm but getting completely overpowered in seconds.

You almost wish you could see his fucked out state for yourself, the mental images accompanying each frantic little noise of his having you gasping and crying out.

" Fffuck yes, you're such a good boy for me, aren't you? " You coo in-between pants of slight effort. " You'll let me ride you anywhere, won't you, sweetheart? Anything to get your cock wet, huh? "

Pebble's responding sound is like a slurred, low moan, legs jerking and tails spasming while the dick inside you throbs so hard you thought he was going to cum for a second there. In fact, for a couple of completely lust-drunk moments, you totally forget what you're doing. Sure, you're ridding the lights out of this gargoyle, but what for anymore...?

As if fate heard said thought, a soft buzz jolts your memory.

In the very same corner he had once disappeared to, stands none other than Colmei, watching like a little voyeur. And you don't doubt he's not the only one right now, but he's the peeping Tom you were specifically looking forward to.

The beekeeper stands warily, wings moving rapidly behind his back in what must only equate to excitement, claws tugging anxiously at his own garbs, which happen to be hilariously tented where his engorged cock bulges with need, already staining those ash-colored robes into a depraved wet mess.

Although you can't tell for sure, you'd bet that mask-clad gaze is fixed on the sway of your tits and the sight of your hungry cunt swallowing Pebble without rest. You make it a point to sit up slightly so he can see better.

Good, perfect, watch and drool, little freak. This is what he declined. It could be him beneath you now, if he wasn't such a dumbass earlier. It could be him twisting and arching like Pebble on the ground, warbling for more and more and harder-

You force yourself to think clearly, halting things to a crawl.

The gargoyle's infuriated snarl dies into a miserable sob, one of his arms leaving you to punch down on the grass beside him. He makes another distressed bray, and while you understand his pain perfectly, you need to focus now.

" Quiet. Patience. " It was an order. And, admittedly, he's very obedient about it, murmuring his displeasure when you slap his thigh softly. Ouch.

Your previous hammering becomes a slow, luscious roll of the hips, gloves removed so you can feel yourself up for the peeper's viewing pleasure. He takes a small step forward, clearly wanting to approach, but still held back by something that is honestly starting to infuriate you.

" Colmei... " You moan at the next surge of pleasure.

The beekeeper shivers and seems to wake at the call. You don't miss Pebble's confused grunt at you calling out someone else's name.

In a vaguely childish gesture, you pout and make grabby hands at the darker monster, stopping to play with your breasts, rolling them together just to thrill, casting Colmei the most needful look you can muster.

His resolve visibly falters, the clear invitation having him frozen mid-step.

" Please... Comei. "

Oh, nothing can curb the Cheshire grin that spreads so eagerly on your cheeks, splitting them, when the insectoid monster caves.

He does the walk of shame over to you, as he should, arm over his blatant erection and posture like that of a bashful mutt getting caught in the trash can. Only now does Pebble, still impatiently trying to get some friction started, realize someone else is getting closer. The gargoyle lifts his heads behind you, offering a strange sort of snort-chuff at Colmei.

" Hey now. " You warn.

The two of them have gotten along on several occasions, though the mutant is clearly interpreting the beekeeper's presence as that of a challenger. As if Colmei's going to yank you off him and dash away. You suppose this can be new for them both.

" I'm not going anywhere. " You assure Pebble, tossing him a look. The gargoyle murmurs, slightly placated.

When Colmei halts in front of you, it's not too hard to get him to roll his robes up, his pretty pitch black cock bobbing in anticipation, the male's breath clipped. Before even so much as reaching for him, you offer a skeptical, challenging glance.

Are you going to be difficult now?

Colmei appears to interpret the basic gist of it well-enough, buzzing quietly and bending big legs slightly so his offering is properly reachable. If that's not a pathetic beg, then you don't know what is.

" Mmm, are you sure? "

He makes another droning noise, this one climbing to high sputtering, almost like an apology, regret. Good. In his desperation, Colmei allows his tip to poise on your lips, spreading a bead of something so sweet your eyes widen when you swipe your tongue across it. Huh. You pat the small pocket on the side of your bunched up dress, finding the small vial still secured there.

Beneath you, Pebble seems about ready to burst out crying, hips starting to buck uselessly even if he's been told to behave. Poor thing, you figure you've tortured him enough. Knowing it's going to take a bit of coordination, you reach around to find the blue monster's hands, urging him to bend slightly so he can grab your waist, moving them, letting the gargoyle know he should use you however he pleases. Immediately, he starts bouncing you quickly, little rabbit thrusts that have you rocking slightly and laughing amidst the jolts of sensation now reawakening.

Redirecting your attention to Colmei, you make sure he's watching when you lace both hands on his length, motions a lot more practiced than his, letting him know that ambiguous pawing won't get him anywhere. The beekeeper's whole body rattles in a visceral shiver, you're able to see the muscles of his legs tense and his lower abdomen tighten as he discovers a brand new world of pleasure. Hopefully, he'll learn from this. The monster coos something in a fast staccato, a lot more active than Pebble, thrusting into your grip and huffing every time you stop to circle cruelly over his tip.

With so much curiosity biting at you, it doesn't take long before you're putting soft lips against him again, trailing a stripe from the root of his dick to the head, marveling at the slightly musky taste of his skin. The beekeeper instinctually holds onto your head, making a low, shocked sort of hum the second you take him in properly- Treated to the view of you slowly sinking more of him into your mouth, a playful tongue feeling around as he gets into your throat.

Thank Krulu for his training and body modifications. You'd be a little upset if you couldn't take him all in.

Colmei rattles with pleasure the moment he's fully enveloped by the warmth of your gulping maw, twitching inside you, shuddering when his balls brush your chin. Speaking of, might as well play around while you can. One hand grabs his leg for support, the other thumbs and rolls his nuts, if only just to hear his breath hitch again. Pebble, who unbeknownst to you has been watching the entire exchange, finally starts fucking you onto him properly- Perhaps out of jealousy that his neighbor is getting twofold your attention.

It's very easy for him to lift you, most monsters find the majority of humans easy to maneuver, though being made of such hard material definitely helps. The pleasant surprise of getting hammered onto his length has you moaning gleefully around Colmei, who begins moving as well, careful enough not to let you slip off him. While the gargoyle seems to be quickly recovering that previously lost climb, making self-satisfied noises at the vocalizations he elicits from you, Colmei is only starting to get into what might be his first oral servicing, snapping angrily at the blue mutant whenever he gets rowdy enough to nearly displace you.

" Hahh... Getting close? " You call to Pebble, able to slip off Colmei's cock for a moment to catch your breath.

Strings of drool mixed with excessively viscous precum cling to your jaw, the beekeeper's too restless to stay still, rubbing his wet cock on your cheek while you wait for a response. Your stone-hard sybian nods feverishly, a guilty noise echoing.

" That's fine, sweetie, don't hold back. "

You can barely finish the sentence before Colmei's trying to angle himself into your mouth again, throwing a glare at the beekeeper. Nonetheless, Pebble understands, and he rumbles out in delight, now pounding you from below with a vengeance that has you comically bobbing and gagging onto the insectoid without much work. Between the slap of your ass on him, the wetness of your cunt getting bred and the slurp of your lips around the other's cock- You don't even know which is more obscene.

It's easy to slip into a pleasured trance, skin erupting into goosebumps as you're used and loved on by the two, hands dropping to feel your own breasts and glide down your inner thighs, rolling your clit appeasingly. There are many, many benefits to your job, the best of them of course being fulfilling Lord Krulu's will- But sometimes, you think getting to service and show love to those sworn to him is up there in terms of reward. The rush of your approaching orgasm has you mewling sweetly, clenching increasingly hard around Pebble in an attempt to keep him snug inside you, kissing all the deepest parts of your core.

Apparently, that does the trick for the gargoyle.

Because he strangles out a snarl of rapture and sinks you fully onto him, claws tightening on your skin in pure instinct, keeping you screwed onto his fattening cock as that delicious knot begins to swell to its full potential. The stretch is harsh, unforgiving and burning hot but so, so worth it just to have it crush your most sensitive spots, pressuring, throbbing. You come hard the moment a burst of thick steaming gargoyle seed paints your walls, coating you, claiming you, filling you so nicely. The weight settles on your lower abdomen and you drool on Colmei's thick cock in glee, pussy pulsing for more. Pebble purrs loudly, previously clenched claws now stroking lovingly over your sides, tails swatting as he relaxes, with his still weakly spurting shaft lodged firmly within you.

" Good boy! Good job, you did so well! " You praise him, feeling his thighs flex briefly while he murrs and croons his gratitude.

That leaves the bee collector, who you can now focus fully on, lavishing him from top to bottom like the sweetest lollipop out there. And, admittedly, he is quite sugary to the taste. There's a playful perking of your lips as you teasingly mouth around his head again, flirting with his hole, leaning away when Colmei tries to push more into you. The male grunts, then makes a sound like a dying keen, cock jumping and balls tightening.

It seems maybe he does have a thing for edging. Perhaps that's why he takes so long to bring himself to orgasm, he does it deliberately, the little pervert. And now he's loving it when someone else does it to him. Hah.

Now that Pebble's down for the count and you've had your fun, you can afford to play with Colmei like he's no more than an interesting toy. He'll twitch and beg in that ceaseless humming, but all you ever do is lick, kiss and nudge at him, occasionally dipping to take some of his length down- You make the beekeeper belive that you'll swallow him to the base anew only to pop lewdly off him not even halfway there and chuckle.

He pulses so hard you're impressed he didn't climax right then and there.

Enough is enough however, you're starting to get sore from having your knees bent for so long. In a gluttonous fit, you suck Colmei down like he's the last male on Earth, ripping a grunt-hiss of shock out of him before he grabs your head sternly and fucks into your face with enough strength to hurt your nose briefly.

The hive guardian begins cumming down your throat alarmingly quick. The resulting substance is extremely thick and hard to swallow, sticking to your throat in a way that forces you to instinctively cough and sputter globs of his own jizz back around his member. Colmei only appears to thrill further at the sight.

With a couple of sharp jerks and warning sounds, you're finally able to rip your head off the beekeeper's grasp, tasting his seed for the first time. And even though the distinct flavor of what can only be honey is quite surprising -If not ironically hilarious- You're hurriedly fishing the vial out so you can collect a fair amount of Colmei's seed. A somewhat contaminated sample, sure, but it's better than nothing.

In his post-nut bliss, the monster doesn't really care as to why you're gathering his fluids, merely buzzing pleasantly, wings erratically flicking. His last few shots drip down your neck and coat your exposed tits. The cheeky fuck has the gall to try to wipe his cock on your face, met with a cautionary pinch from your part.

It must be some kind of honey. It tastes exactly like it. Even the color is that of a rich, glazed hue. Maybe this can even be profitable!

The vial is lowered to the ground, all three of you relaxing in the relative silence of the garden under a satisfying haze. Colmei pulls his robes down and squats before you, mask set aside safely so three roving tongues can weasel across your skin, licking the side of your neck and chin, cleaning you of his own savory mess. Behind you, the gargoyle rises as well, with a slight wince from the jostling of his sensitive cock in you, a fatter and less slimy muscle laving at your shoulder and dipping between your stained tits.

You sigh happily, slumping onto Pebble and letting the two sweethearts take care of your tired figure.

Mission accomplished.

[shiny-jr]

🕷 impersonator [ miguel o’hara ] 

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Note: It’s literally just a very small Miguel post to get it out of my mind. I’ve been wanting to write something with him for a while now, and I had a totally different draft with a whole story idea that would’ve lasted a few chapters, but ultimately I scrapped the whole idea and just decided to do something small. It ain’t much, but it’s honest work.

There was something wrong about being used to placate an unhinged man who called himself a hero. Maybe it was the passionate look on his anguished face whenever his red gaze was fixated on you, or the despair that seeped into his tone when he whispered sweet-nothings, or it was just your common sense that saw all the blaring red flags, but you knew this was wrong. Miguel may have declared to everyone that he was a good guy, a hero, quite possibly even to the point of deluding himself, but some of his choices were morally questionable, and criminal at best.

The glowing red sticky strings he used to form webs were probably stronger than the thin strand of what was left of his sanity. It must’ve been some sort of last-ditch effort by his fellow spiders to present you to Miguel O’Hara, perhaps to appease his growing anger and extremity. It’s like they had offered you up on a silver platter. You, who was shockingly similar to a loved one he lost in his own dimension. You were the poor pitiful bug caught in a spider’s web, with no hope to escape.

And at first, you hadn’t even realized your fate was sealed, you were already trapped. In your own dimension, he showed up. You knew Miguel, he was a scientist at Alchemax who was a bit of a nerd despite not looking like one, and he played soccer on the weekends. And yet, after months, you finally realized this wasn’t your Miguel.

Your Miguel would gladly partake in back-and-forths where you poked fun at each other, but that stopped and he began to give compliments to you of details he never once noticed before.

Your Miguel would peer at you through the lens of his glasses and smile while resting his head on the table, but he stopped wearing his glasses and instead he stared at you intensely while only smiling whenever your attention turned to him.

Your Miguel had brown eyes that looked like honey in the sun paired nicely with his pleasant smile, but recently his eyes looked almost red at night and when he smiled he displayed fangs.

On top of all this, he seemed to forget certain dates you had planned and sometimes the names of friends and loved ones escaped his memory. The first time this happened, for a split second, you swore you saw his expression drop and his eyes widen as an ominous frown appeared on his face. But when you blinked, his expression was back to normal, a relaxed smile on his lips. He brushed off his mistake and calmly explained that he remembers now, it just slipped his mind for a moment. Was it your imagination seeing that dark expression on his face, or was it real?

What was once fleeting affection with Miguel, like awkward glances where you accidentally made eye contact, or brief and shy kisses on the cheek, also began to change drastically. It all quickly morphed into something more intense. Gazes full of desire that glinted in those dark red eyes, deep kisses that you always stopped on the very point of no return, murmurs of promises to protect you that were said in a strangely solemn tone.

It became clear that something was wrong. The man you once loved wasn’t the same, as if he were a completely different person. This Miguel was not someone to be crossed. You would soon learn that once you confront him and claim to know he wasn’t your Miguel. Well, this Miguel had tried to smoothly integrate himself into your life. However, since that didn’t work, he could resort to other methods. Afterall, as Spider-Man, he had a reputation of being effective and forceful if need be.

[smehur]

More Harry/Draco fics I loved

I'm reading so much fic, I don't have time to read the actual books! And my Read Later list still keeps growing! Thank you, Drarry Tumblr, for feeding me so well. Here's a little something in return.

In the order of reading them:

Bitter Honey, Green Night by Faith Wood

An inn, an Auror, a criminal, a mystery.

I loved this story for the seduction, and the tension, and one of the most exquisite, most intimate sex scenes I've ever encountered. Even weeks after reading, it still lingers in my mind and I can envision it with almost painful clarity. I admit I wished the story went on: although the main conflict got a satisfying resolution, there could've been a bit more closure (read: another sex scene). Not a critique, mind you--if I were in the author's shoes, I'd have probably stopped there too--just the longings of an insatiable fan.

i was having visions of sugared pastry (cooked up in clarified butter) by infectiousdisease, solifuge

Draco Malfoy doesn't remember a time before his eating disorder. Not that he'd call it that.

This one gutted me in all the right ways. Draco with an eating disorder passed on from Narcissa clicked for me with frightening ease. It just rings so true? The unflinching depictions of his mental and physical illness, of his relations with his dysfunctional family and the bullying he inflicted on others made my stomach clench--and I loved it. I also loved how the horrors of the war were communicated as subtext, reflected in Draco's war against himself, rather than explicitly, to great effect. I loved the soft things too: Draco's relationship with Harry developing between the lines, the cathartic trial scene and the well-earned beginnings of recovery, all written in brisk, efficient prose that cuts to the marrow. An absolute gem of a fic.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Easily one of the loveliest stories I've read in this fandom so far. Draco is such an unmitigated darling; I rooted for him deeply, while fearing at the same time that he'd fuck things up irreparably, lol. And Harry, dear, pure, clueless Harry, with his long-time crush that's teased but never fully elaborated. There's also a little owl, heart-warming moments between Draco and his parents, his unrelenting focus on clothes and a scene where he goes jogging in a Muggle park wearing robes (and little else).

All that said, the end left me feeling weirdly cheated. (Spoiler alert!) Harry says it himself: it's not fair that Draco had their first kiss without him. Was Draco's exploration of the timeloop selfish, or just inconsiderate, or entirely justified? What would Harry have done in his shoes? Not gonna lie: I kept mulling over this for days.

Mortal Frame by tackytiger

Draco’s on a mission, and this time it's personal. But it's not easy to track down something that no one wants to talk about, especially when Harry Potter keeps popping up everywhere Draco goes. Though at least he’s on Draco’s side this time, and if he happens to be useful, and kind, and great in bed—well, Draco’s not exactly complaining. The story of three pubs, one Horcrux, four overpriced sandwiches, and two damaged men just trying to make sure that Bellatrix Lestrange stays dead.

Oh, this was such a treat. Mysterious, atmospheric and reticent in just the perfect measure, it had me wide-eyed and heart-aching and mouth-watering. Most of my reading is about Harry and Draco getting together, and I'm always surprised when stories where they're already a couple (of one sort or another) manage to evoke in me such deep longing. If you haven't already, go read this now.

À Bon Chat by oknowkiss

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

Omg, this fic. I don't even know where to start with the praise. It is so well-written, and so well-researched, and it offers such insight, not only into our beloved characters, but into human nature in general. I still can't decide whether I entirely bought the ending or not. But that didn't lessen my enjoyment of the story; it even contributed to it by making me engage with it on a deeper level. I remain astonished and humbled.

Tagging the authors I managed to find on here: @faith2wood, @oknowkiss, @tackytigerfic. Thank you for enriching my life! 💚

[bigfan-fanfic]

A Former Park Ranger and a Full Moon (Gender Neutral!Reader x Ryan Lucan)

Ryan Lucan with a cuddly werewolf s/o

body horror trigger with a transformation description - very short

"Are you sure you wanna stay tonight?"

"Of course! I wouldn't leave you now." Ryan chuckles. "Especially not now that we know you won't hurt me."

You sigh and kiss him, instinctively pushing your face into his neck and inhaling, the honey-and-citrus smell of his aftershave filling your nose.

"I would never hurt you."

"I know that," he answers easily. "But you have to admit, there's a difference between knowing that academically and having a six foot wolf looking at you."

"Fine. Point taken."

Ryan doesn't use his old forest cabin very much anymore, since he stopped being a park ranger after Gabe.

But it became a perfect cover for you each full moon. Because what's more natural than an outdoorsy man like Ryan taking you out camping once a month or so?

Besides, lately the wolf in you has become much more clingy. In the first times Ryan went out with you, you'd avoid him all night in wolf form, hunting and returning just before you reverted to your natural form.

But lately the wolf likes being around Ryan.

Maybe it comes from some kind of instinct to be around Ryan in your human life - like the wolf recognizes him as a mate of sorts.

But that also sounds like something out of a very raunchy fanfic and you'd like not to have it in your head when you turn.

"Do you think you'll be hungry tonight?" Ryan wonders. There's a freezer of meat at the cabin he can let thaw to feed you with so that you don't have to hunt and risk alerting some kind of environmental watch to your presence.

Maybe that's why the wolf has become so docile. Is your boyfriend literally domesticating you?

"I think I'll be okay." you mumble. Ryan smiles.

"We're almost there, hon."

He's practically carrying you into the cabin when you get there - the change is imminent.

"I think I see some whiskers already." Ryan chuckles, playfully sweeping his finger along your cheek before setting you down on the cushion.

You give a huge yawn and he grins, gently pulling a blanket over you and locking the door he couldn't before with his hands full of you.

The change is rapid, but not instant. Just long enough for him to hear the unpleasant sound of muscle and bone popping and rearranging and altering and re-fusing until the giant wolf take up most of the room.

"Hey, bud." Ryan chuckles, kneeling down and letting your wolf nuzzle him and smell the honey-and-citrus. It chuffs and nearly knocks him over to scent more and then playfully licks his face.

Ryan's pinned down but tries not to act like it, smacking your flank to get you to move off of him.

The wolf doesn't let him out of its sight, even when it rests its head on its paws and settles in the middle of the room. The moment he goes towards the kitchen, the wolf lets out a warning growl and pads over to keep watch.

Ryan just chuckles and quickly grinds up some meat with high antioxidant herbs that a wolf in the wild would probably consume for digestion - another benefit of having a former park ranger boyfriend as a wolf is that he's well aware of a natural wolf diet.

But once you've eaten and he's made something quick for himself, he finally hunkers down, stripping down to moisture wicking compression shorts and lying on the couch.

He gives a sigh. "Alright. Have at it."

The wolf gives a deep, sonorous bark and rears up, placing itself atop him and burying its snout in his neck.

He's able to wriggle his arms out so he can rub the wolf and not be fully trapped, but he's still pinned under dense fur and a huge animal, hence the compression shorts - it gets hot and sweaty under a wolf very quickly.

The wolf falls asleep fast, comforted by good food and being in close proximity to Ryan.

Ryan knows that you'll be restless and active tomorrow - unused energy from the wolf translating back over, but it's all worth it the moment you change back.

Because suddenly the dense fur and heavy weight is gone and he's cuddling his very human love, and happy for the more familiar weight and feel.

And you just look at him with so much love when you wake up human that he kisses you deeply and professes his love as though it were the first time all over again.

One of these full moons, your transformation may end with a ring...

[lavender--ghost]

Luke loves his fiancee, though he sometimes needs to make sure they're being taken care of properly. He could see the stress they would never admit to, the strain of nobility and a lifetime's worth of catch-up they both needed. Maybe taking care of them is a little more about himself than them, though.

--

Uhhh so content warning here lovelies. Luke main/romantic route spoilers. Basically Luke drugs MC to comfort himself while taking care of them, non-consensual non-sexual intimacy while MC is unconscious and unaware. Bathing/Changing/Cuddling but nothing sexual. Take care of yourselves and don't read or stop reading if you feel uncomfortable! Luke/Observer POV throughout with Belle MC. MC is referred to as fiancee and bunny, but not named or gendered. Minors DNI

The settee was set up as usual, with it being Luke's turn to host their regular tea parties in the garden. Both of them had been busy, running around for errands and lessons to the point they hadn't been able to relax together for days.

He'd been feeling foul for the entire time, separated and useless as his fiancee overworked themself, and there was an easy solution to that. Luke still had trouble sleeping some nights, and those same sleeping herbs he'd used to keep them from following after him as Belle went tastelessly into honey. Slipping some in the tea wasn't exactly difficult. He'd honestly be more concerned if his heart wasn't so warm from their trust, sweetly smiling as they sipped at their drink.

Their eyes began to flutter, confused at the sudden drowsiness, but he soothed them, pointing out how hard they'd been working lately. "Don't ya' think you deserve a break?" Leaning into his arms, his fiancee hummed a tired agreement before relaxing. Breathing growing softer while clutching at his coat, they mumbled sleepy little apologies into his side. It felt nice, having them rely on him, reassuring. His fiancee literally leaning on him for support.

"S'fine, jus' go to sleep. Ya' need it if you're getting all needy like this."

Yes, they both needed this. His fiancee needed rest, and Luke needed them to need him. Scooped into his arms, their head rolled into the crook of his arms, small and delicate and exactly where they belonged as Luke carried his fiancee to his room.

--

Stripping them gently, Luke stepped into the bath slowly. The sleeping drugs really were effective, leaving his fiancee draped across his chest as he steadily cleaned them. This was exactly what he needed. King Highness was on his case again about another Obsidian spy, Sariel's lessons kept them both busy, Clavis chased him too much for "brotherly bonding" (pit traps, is what he really meant), and Jin... wasn't doing anything unusual, but he was still a bother.

He couldn't do something like this often, his fiancee knew Luke better than anyone, and would definitely realize what he'd done if he wasn't careful.

Smiling uncontrollably, Luke pressed his face into their hair, softly washing their body. Relaxing for the first time in days as he felt the tension leave him. No protesting, no trying to take care of themselves, just the love of his life, pliant in his arms and needing Luke's care. His fiancee needed Luke's help now, reliant on him in a way that made him feel secure and real, in a way he hadn't felt in years.

It hadn't felt like this with her, but this was different, Luke was strong now and he wouldn't lose anyone ever again.

Finishing too soon for his own liking, Luke stood again, moving to dry them both. Breathing slowly still, he had more time before they returned to wakefulness. Grinning and humming as he cared for his fiancee, Luke moved from the bath to his room, setting them on his bed while he turned to the dresser, dressing himself quickly before turning to his fiancee's clothing.

Frills and ribbons and soft things suited his fiancee best, and Luke kept enough in his room for them. That damn suitcase, he'd barely even bothered to unpack, held most of what he cared about. The rest of the stuff here was fluff. Settling on a soft nightgown, Luke stroked the old patched bear on his dresser before returning to the bed.

Once, he had done terrible things to them, but now, he was able to take care of them. He was loved, and he loved in turn. It was a different type of feeling, though no less all-consuming than his hatred. He'd take care of everything, so they wouldn't have to worry about anything other than spoiling him.

Gently propping them against his chest, Luke rolled the sleeves over their arms, the fabric down their torso, until they were both dressed comfortably and a happy sigh escaped their mouth. They really did resemble a bunny, nuzzling their face into his chest so sweetly. His little bunny in a den of beasts, but he was their protector, here to keep them safe. Both of them safe and warm in his bed, the window spilling sunlight over them both, Luke was more relaxed than he'd been in recent memory. A gentle kiss to his fiancee's head saw Luke join them in sleep, clutched to his chest.

--

The setting sun saw Luke wake, with them still wrapped in his arms. Eyes open, though heavy from the drugs, their face warm from embarrassment even as they rested on his chest. He felt his grin return as he sat up and pressed kisses to his fiancee's face. Shaking their head, they pressed a kiss to his own cheek. Moving to squirm softly out of his grip with apologies, he rolled over to trap them back where they belonged, safe and warm and cared for.

"Don' worry, you know I love taking care of you."

--

Luke isn't a mean yandere, he's a soft boy. You just have a mutually codependent relationship in an unfamiliar environment where most people judge both of you and live a fundamentally foreign lifestyle to everything you've ever known. Don't think about it too hard. Luke will take care of it.

TAGS:

@candied-boys @omkookie

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus is a mer and he can turn into a human. He lives as a human with his mates Drift and Ratchet. The only problem is they don't know he's a mer.

Rodimus has always hid this about himself because he's afraid of what they'll do. He thinks they won't love him and think he's a monster if they ever found out.

During a full moon mers will act weird because that's when they are most fertile. Rodimus always tries to hide this by never letting Drift of Ratchet around him during a full moon.

He never stays the night and will go back to his home. Where he boards up the windows in fear of seeing the moon. If he does he'll turn into a mer and beg to be filled with pups. Desperately trying to attract a potential mates attention.

Then one day Drift and Ratchet forget something at his house and they really need it. They decide to stop by and become worried when they notice all his windows are covered.

Deciding to check on him they use a spare key and are shocked to find Rodimus as a mer.

They come home to see the most mouth watering, glistening, tight yet gaping pussy they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Its borderline terrifying how quickly they zero in on Rodimus moaning and writhing in the bed bathed in moonlight finger fucking himself while his other hand twists, tugs and pulls at swollen pecs that just look so suspiciously full of milk with how dark his nipples have gotten they can’t stop themselves from literally ripping their clothes off and actually plunging their dicks into Rodimus welcoming unprepped hole.

His pussy takes them in full swing with ease and they are too drenched in Rodimus’s pheromones and silk like screams that turn to singing to notice, “hey didn’t he have a dick before we left?”

Rodimus is alluring even without his actual form and no mer or human can resist especially not these two old geezers who give a regular mer a sharp shell to the throat with how fast, hard, powerful and deep they’re fucking him.

He’s sandwiched between the two of them, with juices squelching raw inside him, their hands wandering, pulling, tugging, groping everything they can reach and they don’t stop tugging, pinching and nipping even after Rodimus has cum.

drift is desperately trying to suck his pec as if milk truly was in there and he was starved of his meal. Ratchet wasn’t any better biting so harshly at his neck Rodimus felt like he was trying to leave a breeding mate bond for all to see. He could’ve sworn he felt the skin break a thousand times over and drift wasn’t actually far behind in doing the same to his poor abused nipples.

Rodimus could feel every inch of their fat dicks stretching him out, hitting a uterus he knows they know nothing about. He felt them ruin every inch of his cervix and he felt the vibrations echoing inside his empty womb.

He needed more than their dicks inside him.

He needed every drop of seed they had to offer him.

He needed it more than anything he’s ever needed in his life. His cries grow louder and his voice turns to sweet floral honey trapped in the milk planets grown beneath the sea.

His eyes glow and his claws extend, his fangs react and the symbols of flames etch across his skin blissfully hot to the point he can see the literal steam coming off himself as his body prepares him.

They’re nearing their peak and the moon is almost at its highest point. It they give him their seed in this moment he’ll forever bear their children and they shall forever be wrapped with his soul.

He arches his back as their movements become sloppy, throat drying at all his panting. He feels his eyes sting with tears and his mating venom drip from the tips of his fangs and claws.

His pussy clenches in excitement and he can feel the tubes of his womb shift ready to soak and grab every drop their bulging heavy balls are about to give.

His legs burn and his thighs feel slick with transformation jelly that he knows will erupt his tail the moment his womb is filled.

Drift and Ratchet are meant for him.

They naturally leave his body to come face to face with his neck, teeth so weak in comparison to his own yet so heavy and strong as they managed to break the formed orange and red scales that bond them together as they howl releasing their seed within him.

His cries turn from ocean glitter to waves crashing in an instant as he bites his venom into Drift and leaves a truly appalling wound across his neck and cheek that will never fully heal.

They don’t break from bliss until the endless load of virile cum stops pouring within him and he clenches tight as he lifts himself on unstable limbs and his holes turns from pussy to slit.

The fire within him burns warm as his tail fully reveals itself as he lays back with his body draping the bed.

His scales glitter so beautifully in the moonlight as silk fins on his tail and lower back flick with a want for water.

He can feel his mind returning and the weight of what they’ve done, what he’s done, what they have now seen, cannot be broken.

His chest heaves and his belly is puffed with fertile cum. Glowing eyes take in their tired bodies that have yet to notice him. Their eyes are closed and their mouths are panting. He feels panic swell within him, he’s not prepared for them to leave him. Look at him with disgust or fear of the unknown.

If it came down to it they could never actually hurt him. Not with his vicious claws able to disembowel them with but a simple swipe.

Its not that he fears being physically hurt, though it is a possibility, he fears their love running dry.

A mer with a loveless bond is a mer that will not survive.

“The full moon makes you horny of something Roddy? This is honestly the best you’ve ever..felt..”

His gaze lowers and he watches the horror appear on Drifts face after a moment of shock.

Ratchet isn’t any better as he opens his eyes looking confused at Drift when the silence rings too long and he turns to Roddy. He blinks so much Rodimus worries he’ll start seizing.

He expects many things to happen.

He expects the two to freak out and run screaming calling him a monster or pure disgust at having touched him or anger for having lied to them.

Not them rushing to grip him by the upper body and tail and try to lift him or be successful at it!

“What are you doing?!”

“What are we doing?! Kid you have a fucking tail?! And you’re out of the water?! Are you trying to kill yourself?!!! And how the fuck do you have a tail?!!!”

“Rodimus!!! Why didn’t you tell us you were a mer!!?? And Why the fuck were you on the bed instead of in the water?!!”

Okay. So maybe Rodimus harshly misjudged this situation and their reactions. And their strength which was painfully attractive seeing as they were literally lifting and actually not struggling to carry him into the large tub that fit all three of them as they turned on the shower that he couldn’t help tilting his back and sighing in relief to.

He might have lost track of time enjoying the water fill and wash over him and maybe he shouldn’t have forgotten something really important was going on as he started to drift off and sway his tail accidentally hitting Drift and Ratchet in the face startling all of them.

He teaches out a clawed hand to them only to pull it back and hide them.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered remembering he still actually could end up losing them. The thought made his tail so dim the room was almost dark.

The moon didn’t reach in here and without its glow touching or meeting his eyes he was slightly safe from feeling the burning heat return.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Ratchet frowned looking at him.

“I’m sorry for the scars..they can go away..if you want?”

His tail didn’t get any brighter and the sad croon that left his throat as his fins around his ears flattened made the two look at him closer.

“That doesn’t sound like such a good idea,” Drift spoke with his arms crossed and a hand reaching towards his bloody neck.

“I’m sorry about that..”

“Stop apologizing and start explaining.”

Well there was some hope, Ratchet didn’t want any more apologies so thats a good sign.

“I’m well.. I’m a mer..from the islands. Or at least I used to be. A lot of my pod..my family and friends..moved here where it was safe. Most of stay in the water but I wanted to come on land and see how people lived. So I came with my bubble and his moon.”

“Bubble?”

“Moon?”

“Its one of the ways we say friend and mate.”

“Why bubble?”

“We blow bubbles underwater with messages in them. We deliver certain kinds to our loved ones.”

“And the term moon?”

Ratchet had an eyebrow raised and Rodimus blushed, his tail fin twitching, light still painfully dim.

“Its a way to say sire husband or husband.”

“Sire?”

Drift had his head tilted completely confused and Ratchet looked like he understood immediately what it meant.

“You call them fathers,” Rodimus simply said.

“Wait..I’ve heard Springer call Arcee that?”

Drift was looking more confused than ever while Ratchet had dawning realization on his face.

“In mer culture, mythical culture really…outside gender is kind of irrelevant. There are carriers who have the little ones and then there are those who sire. A male or female can be either. We can tell by smell and build usually.”

They were looking at him as if he’d grown a second head and he was truly hoping his next words would distract them from this particular topic.

“I came here intending to just enjoy a few adventures for a while but my plans kept changing from the moment I met you two till now,” he tried to laugh off.

“This is one of the reasons I kept dodging you two and trying to put distance. I didn’t want you two to ever find out…”

“Roddy…”

“Kid,” Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes as he collected himself, “This wouldn’t have made us love you any different.”

“It wouldn’t have?”

That took him by surprise.

“No,” Drift spoke finally getting close, hand hovering above Roddy’s tail, “and it still doesn’t.”

He gently placed a palm on the soft hot scales and looked in wonder as he traced the patterns and watched the dull glow become extremely bright accidentally blinding them for a moment.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!”

He blew his cheeks and made his ear fins and arm silk wiggle before his tail went to a normal glow that lit up the room so peacefully he almost didn’t notice the moon’s glow trying to catch him.

He made a groaning noise and wiggled in the tub feeling himself grow slick and clench on nothing.

“Roddy?”

“I’m fine, i’m fine,” he covered his blushing face only for Ratchet to remove his hands and hold them.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess here and assume the moon has something to do with you being horny right now?”

“How did you-”

“You have a slit and its opened up again,” Ratchet said with a smirk, fingers traveling down to trace the wet soft opening that fluttered and greedily accepted his whole hand.

A deep song like moan broke free and Rodimus felt his back arch as Ratchet opened his palm and curled his fingers at just the right spot.

“Its a good thing you have a tub big enough for all three of us,” Drift smirked slipping inside the hot water that began to steam.

“Its safe to assume you’ll be like this the rest of the night and for every full moon?”

A soft whimpering, “mhm,” and Rodimus melted into their teasing, love filled touches.

“I do think we should be able to have fun though,” Drift spoke after sucking a deep mark on Rodimus’s tan skin, his own glowing under the orange and red halo of Rodimus’s tail.

“I think you’re right Drift, Roddy here was keeping secrets and we don’t like secrets, do we Drift?”

“No, I don’t think we do Ratty,” Drift slid his hand in beside Ratchets and Rodimus was seeing stars with the way they sloshed their own seed inside him with their fingers.

He was tortured in all the right ways until the sun rose.

By morning he was curled up in bed with both on either side of him.

His belly was full of seed that he knew would take.

With his head on a pillow and his tail slowly going back to legs, he was too exhausted and fucked out to realize the two were looking at his swelled belly that he bunched a few sheets beneath him to surround it in nest like fashion.

They’re minds are steadily going between Rodimus being a mermaid and how freaky the moon had him acting to the bite on Drift’s neck that looks oddly healed yet still fresh to the scars on Ratchet that look the same.

They notice Roddy’s tail keeps going from regrowing to just being scales that glow lazily in his sleep covering his legs and they talk low amongst each other to guess that the glow of his tail helps predict his mood.

There’s an odd color forming around his belly in the swirls of fire patterns that naturally seem to cover his entire form. They seem to slowly be turning a shade of red that looks far too close to ratchets hair and white like that of Drifts.

They both notice Roddy’s claws have yet to retract and that his fangs were still peaking past his lips a little.

They stay on the subject in their own minds until Rodimus wakes and makes a noise they’ve heard before but just assumed it was from outside. A purring coo that vibrated in his now fully formed tail that grew brighter before returning to normal.

“Hey Roddy?”

A soft whistle far too beautiful to be human left the mers lips and sleepy eyes looked to Drift making him stupid.

“What he means to ask was, well..a series of questions really,” Ratchet finished lamely as he blushed looking away.

“Okay,” Roddy shifted himself carefully and his tail flapped a little but otherwise the warm slick that coated it remained it.

“How are you okay without the water right now?”

“A secreted residue that grows in our tail glands we can stay above water for varying amounts of time between species and mers individually. I’m not in the cold so I’m fine for a few hours.”

“You’re a tropical mer right?”

“Mhm.”

“Thats why you bundle so much and don’t like going out in the winter?”

drift had this look on his face like he was solving a puzzle and it was so cute Roddy couldn’t help but smile.

“What about these marks you gave us?”

“I..uh..its something we do during the full moon..I can remove them if you want..”

“Full answer kid, try again,” Ratchet pointed to Roddy’s tail and they all saw how dim it glowed.

“Why are you sad Roddy?”

“How did-”

“Give us credit kid we’re smarter than we look,” Ratchet grumped.

“It’s, Its my fault. I should’ve controlled myself better and never marked you…it was a…I shouldn’t have stayed up here after meeting you two.”

“Roddy what are you saying?”

“Kid its just a bite and a scratch no need to get so melancholy.”

“It’s a mating mark,” Roddy spoke not looking at them, on instinct he used the blankets to cover his belly and protect his pups by covering it more, even if the action was very uncomfortable.

“They’re permanent. They bind you to me and I to you until the day we die. Its not uncommon for us to have more than one mate so our bodies allow us to have venom in not only our fangs but claws and tail as well. I marked you both with my venom..I’m so sorry.”

His tail all but had no glow and the two hated it.

“Kid don’t, don’t do that,” if he weren’t one of the sires and mates Roddy would have ripped his throat out for curling an arm beneath him so close to his belly to shift him and have him face them.

“this was definitely a conversation we should’ve had, really should’ve told us you were a mer we would’ve freaked out still but we would never leave you over it, but..we did bite back. That has to mean something?”

“I don’t believe in all that fate stuff you somewhat believe and Drift believes in but..he’s right kid. We felt what you did last night and we bit back instead of getting scared. That counts.”

Roddy’s tail twitched and started glowing again as his fins let out a shimmer of steam mist through the pours of his scales and he nodded.

“I do have a friend thats mated to a different species too. Although mer and fairies have mated for centuries so it’s still different..either way Bee said Star bit back during the full moon so you’re right! He did a weird flying thing but he’s a fairy its what they do.”

“How did a mer mate with a fairy and they’re so tiny?”

Ratchet looked absolutely disturbed and Roddy laughed so hard they realized proof he was a mer was always in front of them. They could hear the sound of ocean steam in his laugh.

“Pixies are actually tiny but even they can grow big for a certain amount of time. Fairies can do both but a lot prefer to remain big in the woods atop the trees to hide better. Though Star and Bee have a home that meets in the middle by a waterfall so Bee and the pups that took after him can swim.”

“Wait..so who’s the girl between them? Both their names sound a little feminine.”

“Oh they’re both guys and his name is Starscream we just usually say Star.”

“So wait..if they’re both guys how did-”

Drift looked so confused and Roddy felt bad for him.

“Remember last night? Outside gender is irrelevant. It all just comes down to carrier and sire. Some of us have a dick on the outside and a slit beneath it but a uterus on the inside and some have a pussy that elongates into a dick with only testes inside.”

Roddy gently set a hand on Drift that was a bit shaky and Roddy wasn’t trying to let Drift touch his hand back but the man was stubborn.

“Stop it my claws will flay you,” Roddy whined.

“We’re stronger than we look Roddy let me hold your hand,” Drift argued stubbornly.

It was yet again Ratchet that put the pieces together.

“Oh frag!”

“What?!”

Ratchet managed to shift and get Roddy on his back where they all could see his puffy belly that was rounded and sloshing with cum his slit would not be releasing.

“Kid are you..are you pregnant?”

Drift finally got a good look too and when Roddy tried to pull his hand back Drift gripped it hard glaring at him and pulled it back.

“Roddy?”

“Kid?”

Ratchets face was softer this time and he joined Drift in touching Roddy’s hand before gently cupping his belly and feeling along the round chub.

“Are you?”

“..not..it hasn’t taken yet.”

Roddy tried to look anywhere but them and he felt so vulnerable and exposed it made his ear fins curl back.

“The full moon, it’s not just for mating but for breeding.”

Drift still hadn’t let him go yet and Roddy wasn’t sure if Drift’s need to touch him and Ratchet’s transfixed gaze on his belly was a good thing or not.

“Listen..if this is too weird for you or you don’t want this I understand. I can always-”

“Shut up Roddy. No one said that,” Drift growled, he was usually the most patient between the three but his patience always disappeared in moments like this.

He kept his mouth closed and laid his head back, letting Ratchet touch his belly while trying not to enjoy how warm and good it felt to have his mate help his womb fertilize their young while Drift tentatively placed a hand on Roddy’s belly and felt just how warm and firm it felt. All while keeping hold on his other hand that felt afraid if he let go Roddy would run.

Or try to vocally at least.

Neither were going to let him get far if he did and they were sure he couldn’t get too far anyway since his tail was still out.

“You love us enough to bond with us forever and have our kid?”

“Kids..we usually have more than one but you’re humans so it won’t be a litter,” Roddy said without thinking before a blush settled.

“I well yeah..I’m not good at saying it but..I do love you, both of you.”

He’s surprised Ratchet pulls him into a hug, of course he hugs him back but he does joke to make the mood more comfortable.

“Don’t pull your back out old man.”

“Shut it kid you’re ruining the moment,” Ratchet half grouched.

Roddy buried himself a little deeper into the hug and couldn’t stop himself from looking at Drift who hadn’t tore his gaze away from the two nor his hand from Roddy’s belly. In fact he seemed to be tracing and rubbing it in a certain pattern that Roddy couldn’t follow.

“Drift..um are you okay?”

Ratchet raised a brow at their partner and was completely over it when Drift was stuck between being Deadlock, a person Roddy had seen and love easily, and himself as Drift as he smiled saying, “I have these crystals for fertility I’m going to make you,” before growling and putting the two in a possessive hold.

“I will kill anyone that tries to harm us,” which Ratchet and Rodimus knew he meant since he was a former hired hitman.

“Please don’t,” Ratchet gruffed knowing it fell in deaf ears to which Roddy purred.

“Thats so attractive,” his fins kept curling and flaring and Ratchet gave him a glare.

“It’s an instinct thing,” Roddy rushed to his defense, “but it’s fine. Chances are Drift won’t kill anyone,” he said simply as they looked at him like he was crazy.

“Roddy..human men don’t typically get pregnant, unless they’re trans,” Drift shrugged.

“No, you’re right but we know how to hide and if anyone does come looking I can hide in the ocean for a while. That and I’d just disembowel and eat them.”

He didn’t think he’d said anything out of the ordinary until he noticed they were looking at him like he grew another head again.

“What? I wouldn’t be in the ocean long. We don’t like being away from our mates for long and I could give you mers kiss so you could breath underwater,” he reasoned quickly.

“Wait you all can do that? Wait..is that why we can stay in the water so long now?!”

“Kid thats not it! What do you mean eat them?!”

“Well yeah, I didn’t give you the full ability but you practically can’t drown now. Oh yeah a lot of us mythicals can eat people but most of us who don’t need humans to survive don’t eat you.”

“What the hell…”

Ratchet was processing this while Drift was still stuck on being able to breath underwater.

“Does that mean we can swim with you?!”

“If you want,” Roddy smiled, “though only in the day. I won’t risk you getting hurt at night.”

“Us? You’re the pregnant one!”

“Not yet! And i can see underwater at night you can’t!”

“Same thing! You look it already so you are!”

Ratchet tuned them out as he sighed laying down pulling the two with him.

This was his life now.

The two kept going back and forth not knowing Ratchet was banning both of them from swimming at night especially since the protective streak was only growing with the knowledge Roddy could’ve gotten hurt in the past and would be more vulnerable now in his carrying.

He smiled looking over at them.

‘They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots.’

And, Really, he doesn’t want them any other way.

[dixidin]

♰𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈! /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

Notes: I promised you guys I'd give them to you, so here we are. Anywho! Here's all the Argenthill (Argenti/Boothill) headcanons that I have. If you'd like, drop some other scenarios for these losers that I can use next time <3 (FYI, sorry if the formatting is a bit weird! Will potentially change it in the future)

Pet names (for each other)

Boothill: Darlin', rosey, hun', sweetheart, cutie, pretty boy, sugar, dimples (my hc for Argenti!), snookums (joke)

Argenti: Dearest, my rose, honey, lovely, dove, beloved, loverman (yes, based off the Ricky Montgomery song)

Hands

Boothill (when he had human hands): Pretty rough and calloused, maybe a few old scars here and there, wears rings a lot, probably bites his fingernails (causing them to be very jagged or even bleed due to his shark teeth)

Argenti: Very smooth and well taken care of, occasionally painted nails, but always trims them, a few moles here and there

Sleeping positions/habits

Boothill: Snores, knocked out like a light every time he sleeps on top of Argenti (wasn't really held that much), only wears red flannel pants to sleep (....whore...)

Argenti: The only one used to it, occasionally drools, usually sleeps on top of Boothill due to his robotic body, always gives Boothill forehead kisses when the outlaw does sleep on top of him. Night gown, bunny slippers, sleeping mask, you get the gist.

Both pretty light sleepers, but Argenti is definitely a bit heavier than Boothill

Both/Customs: They normally hold hands and face each other's foreheads when sleeping

Mornings:

Boothill usually wakes up before Argenti (which results in Argenti to stir and wake up himself), but Boothill always gives him a kiss to the back of his head and whispers a "Rest easy, hun'" or "Get some sleep, darlin'"

Random "opposite" headcanons

Boothill: Likes Venus fly traps. Collects bottles caps, lighters, hour glasses, and marbles

Argenti: Likes white roses with red tint. Collects small potion like bottles, candles, pocket watches, and jewelry

Drink dates:

Boothill takes Argenti out to bars, while Argenti takes Boothill out for tea parties. It's unusual to see an outlaw like Boothill sip from a tea cup, and weird to see a knight like Argenti to sit at a large stool sipping some wine. But it's a wholesome moment between the two and pretty healthy by introducing each other to stuff that they like that the other might not be too used to. (They make me ill)

Movie nights

Boothill's main movies: Django unchained, The harder they fall, Silence of the lambs, and The man who knew too much (Action, Thriller, Western revenge, and occasional Sci-fi)

Argenti's main movies: Pride & Prejudice, Her, Melancholia, and Elizabeth (Drama, Fantasy, Crime, and occasional Period romance)

Together, they create Brokeback Mountain (they sob everytime they watch it)

Dancing

Boothill: Tango, Quickstep, and Waltz. Literally flustered the entire time

Argenti: Ballroom dance, Foxtrot, and Waltz. Helped Boothill learn how to waltz

Cooking

Boothill: 4/10. Considering he's mostly robotic and usually gets drunk, he doesn't have that much knowledge when it comes to cooking. The worst is it being extremely burnt, and the best is when it's edible and helps you live long enough

Argenti: 6/10. Just a smidge better than Boothill, still a bit clueless when it comes to cooking. Rather a baker than a cooker

Carrying each other

Boothill: 8/10. Literally so easy. The only -2 points are that he can still slightly feel the weight (more noticeable when Argenti is wearing armor) and if Argenti has collapsed or is injured in his arms

Argenti: 7/10. A bit harder to carry cause of the large amount of metal (he's a strong boy, so dw), maybe a bit shaky the first few times Argenti picked him up

Random extra hcs and I don't know where to put </3

Boothill has flirted with Argenti many, many times when drunk, not even realizing that's his partner. Argenti always teases the cowboy about it the next day.

Boothill: .... why do ya' have.. mushrooms?

Argenti: I just think they're neat!

If you repost this on another website, please give credit. If you get inspired off my writing, please give credit. Do not put my work in any ai or repost it as your own work. Any like or repost is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! -dixidin

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[honeycreammilkshake]

hello there honey i really enjoyed your analysis on sukuna and yujis relationship they're so overlooked by the vast majority of the fandom despite being the mcs and it makes me happy some of us appreciate their dynamic i might be unsatisfied with geges overall handling of the story and how it took so long to really focus on these two but he wrote them very compelling despite everything. it makes me frustrated because it could've been even more of a punch if we didn't focus so much on everything else and i adore some characters but it came at the expense of not doing enough with his mcs which even if some people don't want them to be its still yuji and sukuna.

anyhow a small little detail i wanted to point out about 265 is yuji up to that point had been treating and referring to sukuna as a curse, but while in his domain while they're fishing he baits him by saying "cant the strongest sorcerer do this?" and its baiting him obvs and hitting at his ego but he still referred to him as a sorcerer and he's the only one to do so to my knowledge everyone else including himself refers to him as the king of curses, something that he was seen as by everyone since the heian era, a curse, and that he still believes he is right to 268. i really wanted gege to expand on why yuji sympathies with him, we can deduce why and it he clearly does but i wanted to see his exact thoughts what changed, maybe he found out by gojo about his family when he talked to him and realized sukuna was his relative? i mean there's more reasons why he sympathized with him clearly as you very well pointed out in your post but still this is why im dissatisfied with the writing they could've explained it better.

what are your thoughts? i hope we get to focus on yuji at least in the next chapters or im going to lose it. do you have any hope that sukuna ended up accepting yujis offer? i think the scene ended abruptly... i want them back together its so frustrating and while it fits and i can see gege leaving it like that it just doesn't feel right to me

hi, jenjen!! (do you mind if i call you that?)

thank you so much for reading that mess of a post. i had a lot of sukuita feels and just spilled my thoughts in one entire go. it's sad that they're so overlooked because they're unironically the best thing about jjk. like yeah there's a lot of cool characters in jjk but sukuna is literally a god of chaos and devastation that somehow got stuck in the body of an unhinged teenager who would sacrifice his own life for strangers.

they're two different extremes trapped within the same body, but as the story goes on we see they're a lot more similar than they first appear. like yin and yang, the two extremes that often oppose each other but are also inseparably complimentary to each other. there is soooooo much to explore with that dynamic, and i'm forever heartbroken we didn't get to have more focus on these two because they are honestly amazing.

anyhow a small little detail i wanted to point out about 265 is yuji up to that point had been treating and referring to sukuna as a curse, but while in his domain while they're fishing he baits him by saying "cant the strongest sorcerer do this?" and its baiting him obvs and hitting at his ego but he still referred to him as a sorcerer and he's the only one to do so to my knowledge everyone else including himself refers to him as the king of curses, something that he was seen as by everyone since the heian era, a curse, and that he still believes he is right to 268.

your point about that one scene in 265 is so goooood <3

as you said, up until that point yuuji had only been referring to sukuna as a curse, even though that's not technically true. but to yuuji, sukuna is more of a curse than some curses are. this is part of my theory that yuuji is the only one that sees right through sukuna. almost everyone else admires sukuna or only sees him as something to test their strength against.

yuuji is the only one who actually hates sukuna. yuuji even wants to destroy him because he knows sukuna is a murdering, cannibalizing force of death and devastation. and sukuna hates yuuji because the brat represents everything that goes against sukuna's cursed and selfish nature.

they both stand for everything the other hates, yet it's so interesting that they somehow understand each other better than anyone else does. (more on that later >.<)

what i really love about this scene is yuuji's teasing nature. he's not being mocking or sarcastic. he's both stroking sukuna's ego and, with light playfulness, is giving him a kind of recognition (as a sorcerer, not a curse) that nobody else has. you were completely right with that, jenjen.

and it's just so sudden that it happens. actually, everything about this chapter was so sudden and unexpected.

the fact that sukuna is willfully going along with all of this when he would strike down and destroy people for daring to even order him about (like nanako and mimiko). yet he indulges yuuji over and over again.

yuuji is literally telling sukuna what to do, but sukuna doesn't even reprimand him. actually, he pays attention to yuuji. (also i love how everything is always so "special case" and "different" with them like that don't even know how they arrived in yuuji's little mind palace and sukuna looks freaked out about it but he still listens to yuuji, he still does whatever yuuji asks him to... that's truly amazing.)

this scene in particular was really interesting to me. as you pointed out earlier yuuji only ever referred to sukuna as a curse and treated him like one, too. during his conversation with mahito, yuuji says that his purpose in all this is to just kill curses, sukuna especially, as that's the end goal of everything yuuji did.

yet here yuuji is, decidedly not killing sukuna and instead giving the king of courses his entire life story. yuuji's being the most open and vulnerable about himself than he's ever been, and it's all for the infamous king of curses who cares only for himself, the enemy yuuji hates and wants to see destroyed.

yet the way sukuna remains uncharacteristically quieter through all of it, looking like he's honestly reflecting or considering what yuuji just said, and how he gives this meaningful pause after yuuji describes how empty the town he was raised in became. yuuji says he expected it to be that way and sukuna looks almost thoughtful about that.

something similar happens a little bit later on when yuuji's talking about how there's a smaller amount of insects now than when he was younger.

what i noticed about both of these moments is that yuuji is talking about changes that happened for him. changes in the place he was raised and changes in the life he used to see more of that he doesn't now.

sukuna isn't affected by change. he's the strongest, he does whatever pleases him and doesn't care about anyone but himself. but yuuji cares about these little things, these changes that affect him, these small details that stay in his memory. that's such a contrast to sukuna's mindset, which is that every human tastes fleeting. and here yuuji is, sharing his memories about these tiny things with sukuna, these "tastes" that have stuck with him. because it's little details like yuuji losing his slime toy or drinking sweet milk tea when it snows that makes him who he is as a person. but does sukuna have any kind of memories like these? anything that connects him to being human like yuuji? maybe that is why yuuji is showing sukuna all these everyday normal things. he knows sukuna doesn't have memories like this, so maybe showing him yuuji's own might trigger something in him, something deep down. he wanted sukuna to open up with him too, maybe.

all of this is such a strong contrast to how other sorcerers and curses treat sukuna. they only approach him with the intent to try to overpower him or maybe to try to gain his favor. yuuji isn't doing anything like that. he isn't bargaining or making violent demands. there's no fighting. it's the most tender they have been with each other so far. (sukuna not killing yuuji the moment that brat asked him to do anything is sukuna being tender imo... he would have crushed anyone else for daring to do such a thing.)

it's just... it's so fascinating how yuuji hated sukuna for being so inhuman before, but now he's suddenly treating sukuna like he is human. he's acknowledging that sukuna was human even if the king of curses doesn't want to be seen as that anymore. and it's beautifully complex and should have been explored far deeper.

i really wanted gege to expand on why yuji sympathies with him, we can deduce why and it he clearly does but i wanted to see his exact thoughts what changed, maybe he found out by gojo about his family when he talked to him and realized sukuna was his relative? i mean there's more reasons why he sympathized with him clearly as you very well pointed out in your post but still this is why im dissatisfied with the writing they could've explained it better.

i am right with you on this one, too. chapter 265 was almost like a dream for me. jjk is hardly romantic at all. even a lot of other action manga includes at least a little romantic subplot... yet the most romantic scenes we get in this series are these date-like interactions between sukuna and yuuji, who supposedly hate each other, yet i guess they're out there doing archery together??

(sukuna getting another perfect archery shot just to impress his demanding little boyfriend <3 i love how serious he looks here, too, he's really playing up that coolness factor)

you also made another great point about how yuuji suddenly took a lot more emotional interest in sukuna now than he did before. i wonder if that conversation yuuji had before gojo died was about sukuna being related to yuuji? maybe part of him lit up on the inside because he actually has family, even if it's the murderous demon god that wants to destroy him and everything that he loves? or maybe he felt some kind of closeness while sukuna was inside of him that he misses now?

i really wish that we got more scenes like this with these two. i want to understand yuuji's thought process for trying to reason with sukuna and to maybe even get him to open up, too.

it's sad that gege took so long to focus on these two again. there were so many more interactions we could have had, so many more meaningful insights into both of their characters.

but this chapter did a lot all in one take.

i said earlier that sukuna and yuuji understand each other really well, and i believe that's true because not only are they the only ones who spent so much time being soul-crushingly close to one another, they also get under each other's skin far more than anyone else does. sukuna loves to torment yuuji because he knows just how caring and compassionate yuuji is. he rubs it in that he killed thousands of people during the shibuya arc and that he possessed the body of yuuji's friend. but yuuji also knows just how to rile up sukuna and he fights sukuna hard, he never gives up, and i think sukuna secretly admires that about yuuji.

and this chapter showed us how they understand each other yet again.

this conversation, to me, shows two very important things. one is that, despite already feeling it's a lost cause, yuuji still tries to convince sukuna to accept the mercy he's showing him, to understand yuuji's perspective as well. but sukuna's response to this is more layered than it first seems, in my opinions.

as we've seen, sukuna uses a lot of backhanded insults and contradicting statements with yuuji. he simultaneously calls the brat weak and uninteresting, but is disappointed when yuuji lost against choso (sukuna was paying a suspicious amount of interest during that fight scene for someone who considers yuuji to be so worthless) and looks reluctantly impressed or even surprised at yuuji's abilities.

yet when anyone else gives sukuna a hard time or challenge, sukuna shows them respect or even gives them praise. he does no such thing with yuuji, at all. in fact, all he does is mock and discredit yuuji, so sometimes the actual words he uses is a roundabout way he's actually acknowledging yuuji getting under his skin. and i think his words here, "i'm astounded at how spineless you are," can be taken as a form of that reluctant and contradicting acknowledgment.

even if sukuna doesn't accept what yuuji is saying, i think he knows yuuji is being sincere. he has to feel like he's guarded against it though, so he easily dismisses yuuji, and that's why my second important thing from this conversation is how yuuji still doesn't give up.

sukuna knows yuuji can kill him. he's getting back up into a corner now. but instead of going in for any kind of demands, yuuji is giving sukuna mercy. a second chance. a choice.

even though he knows sukuna refuses to see things yuuji's away, to accept yuuji's ideals of valuing life, he still offers a chance at mercy for sukuna.

sukuna, who has deliberately proved over and over again that he doesn't deserve mercy or empathy, and yuuji understands this. he accepts that sukuna is unsympathetic and a monster.

even when sukuna is dying, yuuji shows him that mercifulness once more. he's far more gentle and compassionate to him than sukuna deserves.

the fact that he still wants to live with sukuna. either a longing for family or the closeness they once shared when yuuji was his vessel or both. he genuinely cares about sukuna. and i think sukuna knows that.

so that's why it's another insult to undermine yuuji's efforts and empathy when sukuna says this offer is yuuji just "acting the fool" when i think he knows truly that yuuji wouldn't be so unserious about such a big thing.

but one thing that hit me hard is how sukuna calls the brat by his full name this time. something he has never done before. just like yuuji called him a sorcerer that one time too. it's like sukuna's admitting deep down he was touched, but he just can't accept yuuji's mercy. that would kill his persona, his reputation as the king of curses. it would make him more human. and he refuses to be anything but inhuman.

the original japanese had quotes around "curse" and that was important for a reason. sukuna wanted to be seen only as a curse would be seen.

as gojo said. love is the greatest curse of all. and sukuna is the king of curses. so it's very fitting indeed that sukuna died in the hands of perhaps the one person who ever really saw him, or understood him, or loved him.

thank you for your ask btw, jenjenpup. i really loved reading your thoughts on this. thanks for bearing with me on all my rabid rants about these two. i hope i answered your ask well enough.

so glad to have you in the sukuita cult, too <3

[outcastdeity]

Guidance - Additional Scene: Chapter 21

It wouldn't fit in the fic itself, but here is Ed's reaction to Roy showing up at his cage-fight and then fainting on him:

Ed had just been thrown bodily against the side of the ring, and come rearing back ready to throw a punch at Buccaneer's smug face, when there was a commotion in the gathered crowd below that caught the other fighter's attention. Someone, some dainty-princess idiot who likely hadn't known what they were getting into, had fainted. There was an up-cry of worry around the fainter - but Ed didn't have enough time to try and get a look at them, because Buccaneer was already swinging that giant, ostentatious claw of an automail limb at his abdomen, and that momentary distraction had cost him dearly. He spluttered out in surprise and choked on his next breath; thoroughly winded. He was already bleeding from where the bastard had swiped at his arm, and although his hair getting caught in that trap of an arm had caused Buccaneer to be unable to snap at him, he could still cause some serious damage to Ed just by the sheer size of his arm. He needed to keep himself alert if he wanted to earn his keep.

So he ducked, tumbled and rolled out of the way, despite the pain in his side, and came up fighting, pushing out his automail leg in a kick and swiping at Buccaneer's legs. The man was top-heavy. He went down like a sack of potatoes. And from there it was an easy enough process to dance around him, light as a feather, striking out at his pressure points until the northerner was thoroughly incapacitated. Good, because Ed was beginning to feel a bit worse for wear. He'd had to stop off at the infirmary and see to his cut arm before heading for home, and he was pretty sure he was bruised as hell on his abdomen. But he'd earnt his pay, and that was what counted. Buccaneer wasn't overly hurt, just unable to move where Ed had targeted his weak spots. And since the man was roughly four times his size, he didn't feel too bad when the stage manager counted him out, and then came up on the stage to declare Ed the winner. The crowd erupted into boos or cheers, depending on who they'd been betting on, and Ed ignored it all, holding his side delicately as he limped off the stage and towards the infirmary.

Getting through the crowd was a problem, because everyone wanted to shake hands with The Honey Badger, and ask how a kid like him had got into fighting. But he shrugged the curious off of him and made his way out of the main hall and down the corridor to where Siobhan, the slightly dodgy nurse that the company employed in case of emergencies, has set up shop in what had once been a large store cupboard.

Inside were two beds, and a tiny desk crammed high with paperwork and an assortment of over the counter pain meds. She had enough equipment to set up an IV if necessary, but she wasn't going to be doing surgery in there, that was for sure. When he arrived she was helping a couple of the bouncers place the fainter into the bed not occupied by a fighter sleeping off his automail arm being cut from his body. If that had happened to Ed, Winry would have murdered him on the spot. And he would have literally no reasonable explanation as to how it happened, since 'tripped and fell down the stairs' didn't cover the severance of entire limbs. Ed tried to look over the bouncer's shoulder to see what the dainty little princess who couldn't handle a pretty weak fight looked like, but he frowned, annoyed, when the bouncer proved far too tall for Ed to look past. Instead, he hailed Siobhan and motioned to the cut on his arm.

"Just need a bandage, thanks, I can do it myself," he told her, because he was fiercely independent, and wanted to get home sooner rather than later.

Siobhan was used to him, and far more invested in her other patients anyway, so she just waved him into the room and pointed to a filing cabinet pushed underneath her tiny desk, where she kept plasters and bandages. He crossed the room and pulled open the top drawer, finding a mess of gauze and bandages inside. He rummaged through until he found one that would work for his needs, and started tying it around his own arm, using his mouth to hold the short end whilst he wrapped the long one around a few times, and then tying it off in a messy knot. It didn't have to be pretty, it just had to curb the flow of blood.

"Alright, I'll head home then," he told Siobhan, turning on the spot to give her a little wave. But that was when he caught sight of the fainter.

Before he knew it he had stumbled over to the secondary bed, pushing the nurse slightly out of the way to get a better look at the peaceful, could-just-be-sleeping form of his counsellor. Roy Mustang. In the flesh and blood. Knocked-out like some fairy-tale princess waiting for true love's first kiss. What the hell was he doing there? He didn't look dressed for a cage-match. And the usual clientele skewed much more towards heavy-metal rockers than school-counsellors wearing salmon coloured polo-shirts.

"The hell, Elric?" Siobhan huffed, but Ed ignored her, sweeping up one of Mustang's hands in his instinctively, and watching his sleeping face for any sign of reaction. Why was he there? And why was he passed out in the medical room? Siobhan took a look at his worried countenance and shook her head, rolling her eyes. "You know him?" she asked.

"Sort of," Ed replied, not really paying attention. Saying he was just Ed's therapist wouldn't explain his unadulterated worry. Saying he was a friend would be a flat out lie. He couldn't even bring himself to let go of the man's hand. Like if he kept a hold of him he'd be grounding Mustang to life. As if he was in real danger, instead of just being a pussy.

"He'll be fine," Siobhan told him, tone going softer than usual. "The people around him described him breathing really heavily, and shaking a lot. Sounds like he had a panic attack. But now that he's passed out he'll get the oxygen he needs, sleep it off, and wake up fine. You don't need to hang around if you don't want to."

Ed knew he should go. Everyone at the warehouse knew he didn't want to be identified. But chances were Mustang had seen him up on that stage and recognised him anyway, so he'd need to hang around to mitigate his reaction to that. Not to mention, Mustang having panic attacks was insane information that he didn't know what to do with. When Mustang woke up should he let the man know he was aware of why he'd fainted? Or should he let it be, and see if Roy ever told him himself?

Either way, with his hand still holding Mustang's, he lowered himself into the tiny stool next to the bed, and couldn't look away from his sleeping face. He'd have to let go eventually: have to play it cool when Mustang woke up. But for now, he was going to sit vigil at his bedside, and try to stop thinking about how princesses woke from their slumber.

You can read 'Guidance' here

[trippygalaxy]

SR! Boys Nicknames For You!

Welcome to part 1 of this little series! For those who have been following me for a while know that I also did a nicknames headcanon for the LU boys! I'm keeping these two series as different as possible cause-- they are a WHOLE different set of characters! Hope you enjoy!

Reader is gn! but some semi gendered terms are used. Very fluffy and no angst! just fluff fluff fluff!!

Includes: Link/Realm, Sky, Time

Pt 2 - Pt 3

Link/Realm

Dream girl/boy

This boy- my lord is he oh so UNEXPERIENCED with love and romantic relationships! Yes, he had quite a few admirers but that didn't really mean anything in your's two relationship, so petnames and terms of endearment were actually a little bit of a struggle for the hero to get a grasp of!

Link is much MUCH more likely to use the petnames below but (due to Sky's pestering--) he did come up with a little endearment meant for you. The first time he called you his dream was after a less than restful night of sleep. You laid beside him, looking as beautiful as ever with your arms wrapped around him. Even when his mind was haunted with doubts and regrets, you'll be right there to keep his mind clear. You really were a dream to the boy.

Bae

Ah yes, a classic among men (gn) /j When you two first started dating it was the hesitant go to nickname for the boy. He was SO nervous to call you it for the first time, kinda scared of offending or upsetting u. Yet, he was very pleasantly surprised at the sight of a giddy smile and crinkled eyes plastered on your face when he first stuttered out the name.

Honey

SKY DEF RECOMMENDED THIS TO HIM LMAOO!! Link nearly DIED out of embarrassment when his mentor gave him the idea, quickly shrinking in on himself and offering a sheepish 'thank you.' And you wanna know the funny thing? Its one of your favourite things EVER-- LIKE you can and will throw the endearment back at him with so much glee he will melt into the floor RIGHT THEN AND THERE!!!

Sky

Pookie

OKAY HERE ME OUT ON THIS ONE-- He heard it from one of Link's friends/admirers and FELL IN LOVEEEEE with the cute name! The man uses it with such gusto and dramatics that you'd THINK he was being ironic with it BUT NOPPPEE!!!! This man just loves the lovely dovey feeling the name brings and can't help but play up the new favourite nickname!

Link has been known to groan aloud whenever he hears Sky call you it-- not out of disgust or embarrassment but from the pure fact that he literally can NOT believe an ancient spirit-- HIS MENTOR-- is using such 'modern' slang (okay maybe he is a BIT embarrassed)

Rain Cloud

If you're more of a grumpier or mellow person, Sky would definitely call you his little rain cloud (as along as you're alright with it!), lacing every syllable with every ounce of love he holds in his soul for you. WHICH IS QUITE A BIT-- Like this man can and will brighten your day with a simple petname because of just how IN LOVE he sounds when it rolls off his tongue!

Love Bug

If you can't tell, the hero of the sky has a deep love and appreciation for cute pet names for his even cuter lover!! He normally calls you his 'love bug' whenever the two of you are having a more romantic/intimate moment together!

The word ghosts over the shell of your ear, warm breath bring you back to your lover's warm embrace. You can feel the slight rumble in his chest against your back as a quiet but joyous giggle bounces around, trapped in his ever growing chest so filled with love you think it might burst one day. You can help the smile the spreads across your ever warming face.

Time

Perfection

You, his lover, can't be anything BUT perfect in his eyes! Even if he doesn't express it to you verbally he whole heartedly believes that not even the golden three can compare to you. He wishes that every time he murmurs the petname in the darkest of nights, where only the moon's slivery rays illuminate you, you understand just how perfect he knows you to be.

My Forever

OKAY BUT-- The heart break of him calling you this before he died? Him forever loving you even as he watched you live on without him by your side? Holding onto your memory with a bittersweet overlay, knowing he would rather wait until his soul sputtered out of existence than forget the soulmate he found in you?

But if he found you after his death, letting you in even when he heart had threatened to harden like the cooled lava that once flooded from Death Mountains peak? Oh, he could only see you in the seemingly unending future that stood infront of him. You became something so, permanent that he couldn't even fathom the emptiness he would feel if you were to leave his side.

Dear

A very simple but sweet endearment he would use in more public settings. You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips at such a sweet name, especially when it comes from your 'grumpy' lover!! You can't tell if its because of the way it rolls off his tongue in the most delicate way, like it could shatter like glass if he didn't speak it with the upmost care! Or maybe it was the way his charming eyes roamed your face as he speaks it! Ack! No matter what, you can't help but get so giddy at such a simple word!

Taglist: @the-cucco-nuggie @skyward-shade @baileyboo2016 @yourlocaltreesimp @zelda-the-sacred-realm