#It's not you Sarah... I don't know if you read any of this anymore but hoo boy

[thefinalfinale]

What do I do

When you

Do that...

What do I say

When you

Say this?

What do i do

To keep you

Without tying you to me so tight,

That the ropes burn red into your heart

You undo me too.

[steddieas-shegoes]

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

[punkshort]

What would a pregnancy scare look like between ikwya Joel and Reader? What do you think Joel’s reaction would be? Love your work ❤️‍🔥

Hi! I'm sorry I know you sent this in a month ago. I have a stockpile of asks/requests that I've been working through and I wanted to give this one some thought because I think both their reactions would be different pre and post accident.

I Know Who You Are Masterlist

Pre-accident Joel would absolutely panic. I think he would immediately think of Sarah and how he failed her, then Ellie and how he almost failed her, and he would get too in his head about failing a third child. He would probably say something he would end up regretting in the heat of the moment and I think pre-accident reader would give it right back to him. She wouldn't stand for his shit, she would call him out and remind him it takes two to tango and it wasn't something she expected, either, but there's no point in being an asshole about it because what's done is done.

They would probably get into a fight about it and Joel would grab the bottle of whiskey and take a shot. Then, without really thinking, while Joel was rambling on and on about how dangerous it is to have a baby, reader would reach for the bottle and Joel would slap her hand away, asking her 'Are you fuckin' crazy? You might be pregnant!' And reader, feeling embarrassed that she almost made a mistake, would yell back, 'It's your fault! You got me all worked up, I can't think straight! What do you even care, anyway?' And Joel would throw the bottle back into the cupboard and shout, ''Course I care! Kid'll already be stubborn as shit with her mama's smart mouth, we don't need to be addin' to it!'

Then reader's eyes will soften a bit when she says, 'You think it's a girl?' And Joel, still working through all his anger and adrenaline, will flare his nostrils and slam his fist on the counter and say, ''Course it'll be a girl! Look 'round. I'm surrounded by girls who talk back to me and drive me fuckin' crazy all damn day. Why would this be any different?' Reader would step a little closer and wrap her arms around his midsection, resting her chin on his chest while she bats her eyes up at him and says, 'Maybe it'll be a boy.' And Joel's resolve would begin to crack. The corner of his mouth would twitch and his hands would slowly find their place on reader's hips as he thought about the idea of having a little boy. All his anxiety and anger would melt away when he asks, 'Think we can name him after my Pops?'

-

Now post-accident Joel and reader are different.

They've been through hell and back. Joel thought he would lose the love of his life. After everything they went through, I think both of them have a new lease on life. Initially, Joel would be shocked, then scared, then happy. It would be a rollercoaster of emotions. Reader would be terrified, telling him she has no idea what she's going to do, she doesn't know anything about babies, she's not going to be a good mom and she would begin to cry. Joel would chuckle softly and pull her close, then murmur in her hair she was wrong, that she would make a wonderful mom and she wouldn't go through it alone. He would tell her all the reasons why she would be a good mom: how patient and strong she is, how smart and headstrong she is, and how he hopes if she is pregnant, that it would be a little girl so it would be a mini version of reader.

They would spend the rest of the night thinking about it and wondering what life would be like. Joel would be in the middle of dinner, quietly eating, and suddenly suggest that he could make a crib from the birch tree in the backyard. They would go to bed and each of them would be reading and reader would break the silence and mention Maria and Tommy probably have stuff they don't need anymore and they could use. The next morning, reader would wake up with Joel's face nuzzled against the side of her neck with his big hand splayed wide over her belly.

And if it was just a scare, the idea would be planted in both their heads and after a few months, maybe they would be walking home together from the Tipsy Bison, hand in hand, content and happy until reader suddenly asks, 'Do you want to try for a baby?' And Joel, without missing a beat, would say, 'Absolutely,' and practically drag her down the street towards home so they could start that night.

[acotar-taylorsversion]

Thoughts and Takes As I Re-Read the ACOTAR Series

This is extremely long and I have been typing it for weeks now. These are just my thoughts and I am typing them as I go. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it and maybe we can agree on most things. I would really love to hear everyone else's thoughts, too! 🙂

I don't feel like people blame papa archeron nearly as much as they should. It should not have been any of the sisters' responsibility to do what Feyre did. And after reading Nesta's POV, I don't blame Nesta for being so cold and hateful towards her father.

Lucien annoyed me so much in ACOTAR so much so that it was hard to like him in ACOMAF but I really tried to like him and give him a chance when Sarah made him Elain's mate and I realized that he could have a big role in ACOWAR.

I believe Tamlin had his redemption arc in ACOWAR when he saved Feyre and Az when they were rescuing Elain and then again when he saved Rhys. But I don't think Sarah will explore his story and she might be keeping him alive right now so that he can die at the right time.

After what Tamlin did to her and then allying with Hybern, I don't blame Feyre for ruining his court. He deserved it.

I don't think Ianthe suffered enough and I think that Nesta or Elain should have been the ones to have killed her.

Elain and Az were obvious to me in ACOMAF, just like Nesta and Cassian were and I was truly truly shocked when sarah made Lucien Elain's mate. I believe that there is so much more to that night than we know about and we'll learn about it when we get to Elain & Az's POVs. I believe that the bloodbane in Az's blood was killing him and nullified any bond that could have been there even before Elain was turned. Az was shot with the arrow before they went up to the throne room and that is why Lucien showed signs of mate behavior once Elain showed up. I believe the cauldron was wrong.

That being said, I tried to give Lucien a chance in ACOWAR and he just gave me the ick when talking about Elain. It didn't feel right to hear him say that he wanted to "see if she was worth it." Like she should already be worth it. Don't hesitate. I just did not see it at all.

I think that LoA will be the one to kill Beron. Don't know why, but I just feel that she will lose it and run to Helion.

Sarah had every opportunity to set Elucien up and she didn't. I believe she set them up for failure from the get-go. She instead focused on Elain and Az. I could do an entirely separate post about Elain, Lucien, and Az.

I believe Mor and Eris are mates, especially after what was said in ACOSF. I believe that he knows that she prefers females and wanted to save her from a loveless, unsatisfying marriage. I do think that he handled it wrong. Like that whole situation could have been handled so much better.

I think the whole Mor, Az, and Cassian situation was extremely weird. And now that Cassian is with Nesta and Az could possibly be with Elain, maybe Mor can finally move on and be free and not hide anything anymore. I wish that Mor would have talked to Nesta in ACOSF and explained and apologized for everything. Maybe she'll sit both the sisters down and talk about it one day.

I think Amren and Varian are cute together, but I think Amren should have stayed dead. Sarah is notorious for killing and then unkilling her characters and I think that gets old. I believe that sarah brought her back as a way to keep the summer court involved with the night court and to have a "know it all" character.

I think that Feyre and Rhys have a true, soul mate, true love, fairytale mating bond and I think Nesta and Cassian have a more realistic one. Feyre and Rhys fell in love before the bond was accepted and Nesta and Cassian were just beginning to fall in love before the bond was accepted. Lust and attraction and the pull of the bond is what truly brought them together but they quickly fell in love with each other.

I hate all the hate that Nessian is getting. People who say that Nesta should get with Eris literally make me sick and I want to throw ACOSF at them. They obviously need a to read it again. People need to realize that Nesta was in the wrong in HOFAS and Rhys had every right to freak out like he did and Nesta needed to be yelled at for that. I don't blame Cassian for not stepping in. And people forget how sarcastic Nesta is and they actually take her seriously when she said that Rhys debated executing her. Like do yall really think Cassian and Feyre would allow that or that Rhys would do that to his brother and his mate?? Like come on now.

Speaking of Rhys, I don't think he was wrong for keeping the danger of feyre's pregnancy from her. As a mother of 3 myself, I would be terrified every single day if I knew that my pregnancy could end with the death of myself and/or my baby. Like I would not want to know. Pregnancy is stressful enough as it is, even with healthy ones. And this is why I don't think he was wrong for freaking out on Nesta. I mean, he almost lost his mate, his son, and his life like what, 6 months before that? Like I can't imagine how scared Rhys is every day knowing that he almost lost everything and then Nesta gave a STRANGER a MADE OBJECT from the trove and could have LOST IT to the ASTERI who could have come to their world and DESTROYED them all. GIVE RHYS A BREAK YOU GUYS!!!!! I love Nesta, love her to death, but she was wrong for that.

I have my thoughts on Gwyn. I think she's a lightsinger. I think that is what Az's shadows react to, just like Nesta reacts to her. I don't think her and Az are mates. I don't think she's attracted to Az at all. I think she wants to prove herself to him because he did see her on the most traumatic night of her life. I think she wants to prove to him and everyone around her that she is and can be strong. That's it. There is nothing more to her and Az other than trainer and trainee. I also think that Merrill is the one manipulating everything and everyone, including Gwyn who might not know that she's a lightsinger. I think Merrill is working with Koschei.

Even after all the books, I still believe that Elriel will happen. There's just too many canon moments for me to ignore to see the possibility of Elucien. I only say elucien because gwynriel isn't a canon couple. They are not canon at all. The only thing that elucien has going for them is their bond.

I think Lucien will reject the bond for Elain. Lucien isn't a bad guy. I don't think he'll fight for Elain when he knows that she does not want him or their bond. He won't let Elain become his mother. I think he will find happiness with Vassa and they will be like Elide and Lorcan.

I believe people who support elucien only care about Lucien. I mean, how could you think that Elain wants to be with him after reading the books?

Based on the story of Koschei, it's not crazy to assume it will be 3 sisters and 3 brothers. Sarah is a very predictable writer and this is what most of the fandom has expected since ACOMAF and Koschei being the last big bad confirms that. Especially when you add in Vassa and Lucien into the mix. Just read the story of Koschei and tell me I'm wrong.

I believe that Az is experiencing the effects of a mating bond with Elain. He acts more like her mate than Lucien does and there's canon proof of this.

I believe the only reason Rhys stopped Az and Elain that night was because 1. he was convinced he would die with Feyre when she gave birth and didn't want his court to be in this war with the autumn court and 2. he is a political figure and he is using elain's bond as leverage with lucien. I believe that if Elain expresses to him how she wants to reject the bond, he would support it and accept Elain and Az.

I hate how everyone focuses on Gwyn and forgets about Emerie. I don't understand why people think Gwyn would be involved with the Illyrians. She is not Ilyrian and even though she finished the blood rite, she has said she does not want that illyrian warrior title. After what she went through during the rite, I don't see her being involved with them in any way. I do believe we will hear about Emerie doing something more like that. She could be an inspiration to Ilyrian females. Speaking of the Valkyries, I don't think they should have won the blood rite. It was very unbelievable. It would have been more believable if they had hid the entire time and waited for Cassian to come find them when the week was over.

Speaking Gwyn again, I think most of her fans overhype her too much. I like Gwyn and I'm glad that Nesta has her as a friend because she needed that. But I don't think we'll ever get her POV. I mean, we heard her story. We know what happened to her and we know pretty much everything about her. We know that she doesn't want that warrior title and she went back to the library not even sure about going to Nesta's mating ceremony. I think her fans forget this. I think they see her as a self insert character. I think they over sexualize her way too much. I'm not saying that SA survivors can't have a sex life so don't come at me. I just don't think she's going to want to be tied up with ribbons while Az holds her down and "ravages" her. The same male who seen what she went through that night. That just makes me uncomfortable. I think Gwyn would be embarrassed by the majority of her fans.

I will another post about that bonus chapter because there is so much to discuss.

I hate the amount of hate Elain gets and the side of the fandom that hates her does not deserve her. There is so much to learn about her and her powers and what goes on in her mind and I can't wait for her book.

I also think that papa archeron unknowingly traded Elain and/or Feyre and Nesta in his deal with Koschei for Vassa's temporary release.

I don't understand how people could hate feysand or any other members of the inner circle. In my opinion, if you hate them then why are you reading the series?? Why are you still here?

I don't think that sarah will make Nesta or Elain an actual queen or high lady. I think that Rhys and Feyre will always be more powerful than them and I think they will be High King and High Queen when the series is over. I can't see sarah making the sisters having the same amount of power or say as much as Feyre. She has always been above them. That has been obvious since the beginning because she's always protected them and taken care of them.

If you guys remember my other posts, then you will know my thoughts on how I think the rest of the series will go. Like elriel, vassien, koschei, the queens, the prison, the dusk court, the trove, all that. Elain and Nesta are the keys and Vassa should be the one to destroy Koschei. Rhys and Feyre will be High King and High Queen with nessian and elriel at their sides and everyone lives happily ever after.

What do you guys think?

[luveline]

Jadeee! I had a thought reading the last zombie au story, with r taking a bath in the cold water and she was super chilly maybe she gets a tad sick (maybe just some sniffles or a stuffy nose) and Robin and Steve kind of go overboard to take care of her? (And cuddles with Robin's new cat!!)

thank you for your request angel, hope this is ok. steve zombie au —steve and robin take look after you when you get sick. fem!reader, 2k

There are better places to feel shitty. You're the kind of sick that could get dangerous —hypothermia, maybe pneumonia, you got too cold after a cold wash in the river outside of camp and didn't warm up the right way— and it would be a thousand times easier in a building with central heating. But at least you're not in a tarp anymore. 

You, Steve and Robin share a real tent. It zippers closed and doesn't have any mesh, so heat brought inside of it doesn't ebb away immediately, like it had in the poorly constructed tarp tent. You pull your second blanket over your body and try to seem casually tired rather than sickbed exhausted as their footsteps return. 

"Hey, killer," Robin says as soon as she sees you, ducking under the tent's opening, a box in her hands. "You're finally awake. Since when do you sleep in?" 

"I'm tired from the girl's trip." 

"That was nearly a week ago," Robin says. 

"And yet you're still reaping the benefits," Steve says to her dryly as he follows her inside of the tent. He gets on his knees and crawls to your side. "Hello," he says, kissing your cheek. "Good morning." 

"Hey." 

He frowns at you. "Why do you sound like that?" 

"What? I just woke up," you say. 

Steve clearly doesn't believe you, and he's right not to. Sick of being a burden on him, you've stopped telling him about your aches and pains, your injuries, your worries. He absolutely hates it but no amount of begging has changed your mind. You're not interested in being his weight to carry. Love, sure, but there's no reason he should be so intrinsically responsible for your wellbeing. Or at least that's how you feel right now.

"Sarah's given Robin a present," he says, his eyes narrowed at you. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. What did you get, Robs?" 

Robin slides the lid off of the box eagerly to show you the contents. "It's a baby grow, only Sarah's cut off the arms and legs and sewed the hems. I'm going to put it on Stinkyboy." 

"I thought his name was Shark?" you ask. 

"Or something as stupendously stupid," Steve mutters. He smells like woodsmoke. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look okay." He rubs under your eye with his thumb. "You're all puffy." 

"I don't think you can speak to her like that, Steve," Robin says. 

Her deadpan delivery makes you laugh, and it's a perfect segue to new conversation and away from your unokay-ness. "Are you and Sarah, like… you know?" 

Robin looks at you for a second. "Like what?" 

"Romantic?" you whisper. 

"Oh, no. She's my new Steve, I'm replacing him."

"Can't you replace him with me?" you ask. 

Steve puts his hand on your forehead. "You're warm. You're warm, shithead, are you sick?" 

"No?" You frown as his hand moves to the back of your neck. You're not warm there, you're a furnace. 

"You're actually sick?" he asks, frowning down at you. "What, were you just not gonna say anything?" 

"It's not that bad," you mumble. 

Robin and Steve make simultaneous sounds of disbelief. "You really weren't gonna say anything?" Robin asks. 

They talk so quickly. 

"I don't know for sure if I'm sick, and neither do you guys, don't worry so much." You sit up to get away from Steve's overly cautious hands, black spots behind your eyes and a shooting pain at the back of your head. "Ew," you say, bringing your hand to your eyes, "Maybe I'm sick."

Steve puts his arm behind your shoulders. "Dummy," he says, rubbing your arm. 

"What he said." Robin stands up. "I'm gonna go track down some breakfast for little miss secretive. I'll be back. Don't let her die." 

"I'll try not to," Steve says. 

When Robin's gone, Steve gets nicer. Which isn't to say he's mean when she's around, of course he isn't, but he's polite enough to spare her the full reality of his affection for you, and maybe slightly shy about it. He gathers you into his chest and rubs his cheek against your crown. "You're so warm, honey. I'm not fucking around, you have to tell me when you're not okay." 

"You can't do anything about it, Steve, just a flu." 

"Where would you have caught the flu?" 

"I mean, I must've got it from the cold. It's a cold, that's all it is." 

"You sure?" he asks, his hand snaking under your shirt. He takes an unabashed handful of your stomach. "How do you feel?" 

"I'm fine, Steve." 

It isn't without fondness, but it's said to be simple and straight. Steve tends to catastrophize —why wouldn't he? You can't be cut, you have to be bleeding out. You can't trip, you always fall flat on your face. You have the worst luck in the entire world (or, almost, getting bit would plant you firmly in the worst luck category). And Steve's the one who pays for it, every single time. 

So you assure him as best as you can and describe your symptoms honestly. "My head hurts, and I feel like I'm on fire. My hands and my legs are really hot, but I don't feel sick. It's not food poisoning, and it probably isn't, like, influenza."

"I guessed that much." 

"Oh, did you?" you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him back, and better. Steve gives the best hugs for you, but you know everything that he likes down to the placement of your pinky finger. You do your own skin-searching and slide your hands under his shirt, one palm roving over each bump of his spine to the midway point. His skin is smooth as velvet under your touch here, and noticeably colder. "Stevie," you say, still murmuring as you drag your fingertips down to the base of his back, "I love you. Don't worry, okay? I caught a chill from the river." 

"I do worry," he murmurs back, nuzzling your temple with his scratchy cheek. 

"I know, baby." 

"It's hard to be the one in charge when you speak to me like that," he says. 

"Who says you're in charge?" 

You snuggle like fools until Robin insists you eat your breakfast outside in the cold, which you abhor but your feverish skin appreciates. Steve sits on one side of you and Robin on the other. 

You know Robin likes you, but you think she must really love you, she's so worried. She doesn't say it, but she keeps glancing your way with a pinch between her eyebrows, and she asks you twice if your breakfast, a lukewarm soup she procured from the campfire, is hot enough. You lie each time, 'cos cold soup stopped bothering you a long time ago, and she's a sweetheart for caring. 

Steve suggests a group reading, as in, he grabs a book and usually you'd read, but you're sick, and they both tell you it isn't your turn. Steve reads, practised by now, more confident with each page. He even tries to follow the dialogue tags, whispering and sighing when instructed. 

You start to nod off. There are things you should all be doing, but none of you move. You can't report for washing duty, you can barely stand, and Steve refuses to go without you. Robin's supposed to take baby Ada for two hours. When Robin doesn't show up, one of the other members of the camp appears and makes her take her anyway. 

"You should strike," you say, woozy on Steve's arm. Your fever is getting worse. The cold breeze helps some, but eventually Steve's gonna have to dunk you in the river. 

"I should." She hugs the baby on her chest. "I don't even really like babies. Like, I'd die for her, but kids aren't my thing. At least, they weren't." 

"She's quiet," Steve says. 

"Why don't you hold her, Stevie?" you ask. He loves kids. 

"I'm busy with my own baby." 

You can't decide if it's funny or romantic. You fall asleep against his side and wake a few times throughout the evening, your face in his lap, his hand protective in your hair or against your ear. He wakes you at dusk, kissing a stripe down your cheek. 

"Sorry," he says softly by your ear, "but I can't carry you." 

"You would if you loved me," you tease, your eyes sticky and hard-pressed to open. 

Steve helps you stand and takes more of your weight than necessary as you walk back to your tent. Robin's already inside sans baby Ada, and she has a surprise for you. 

"Tada!" she says. "It's a pillow." 

You rub your eyes with your fist. "Aw," you mumble, disoriented, "yis."

Steve laughs like you're the cutest thing on earth, and he helps you sit down. You're horrified that you actually need him to, almost slipping and smashing your head on the packed dirt ground as your leg buckles under your weight. Now that would've made you sick. 

One fool on your left and another on the right, you rest your aching head on Robin's miraculous pillow and breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Where did you get this?" you ask. 

Robin taps the side of her nose. "Not saying." 

You huff at being out of the know but are ultimately too tired to pioneer for your right to know —you nod off a minute later, and vaguely recollect the sound of the tent zipper. 

Much later, you wake to whispers. 

"He has fleas, Robin," Steve says. 

A weight lands on your legs. "He doesn't anymore! And fleas don't live on people." 

"But they bite. And they have diseases! Stinkyboy can't stay in here." 

"Stinkyboy has just as much right to shelter as you do." 

"No, he doesn't. Not if he's going to give bubonic plague to the love of my life." 

You try to wake up properly. All you manage is a weak sound and a leg twitch. There's a sharp and sudden silence, disrupted only by a thwacking of skin on skin. 

"Did you just hit me?" Robin whispers furiously. 

"No! You tried to hit me, I was defending myself!" 

"You're so done. I'm taking Stinkyboy and Y/N in the divorce." 

"Idiot! Shut up, you'll wake her up. She needs to sleep to get better." 

"You're the idiot, idiot. Isn't that right, Stinky? Isn't Uncle Steve just the worst?" 

After a night of tossing and turning, you finally wake at daybreak. You're confused at first when you can't see Steve, until you realise he's pulled your head into his lap again, stroking the skin before your hairline. It tickles. 

"I still feel awful," you say hoarsely. 

"I don't think you'll recover after just one day," Steve whispers back. Robin sleeps beside you, a blanket wrapped bundle of cat at her feet. 

"You let her let the cat in?" you ask.

"We actually argued about it at length." Steve's fingertips draw a heart over your temple. "She swears that flea ointment stuff worked, but I found a flea on my sock. I'm furious." 

"You sound it." 

"Don't worry. She has to de-flea everything, we made a contract." 

"Well," you say. "It's a big tent." 

It most certainly isn't. If Stinkyboy was as rife with fleas as he was when he first came along Steve would've put his foot down and so would’ve you rather than let him stay, but he only has a few stubborn ones hanging around, and Steve feels really sorry for the poor cat. Imagine how lonely he must have been, he'd said, and then coughed, like sympathy was something to be embarrassed of. 

You feel very sorry for the cat, but you absolutely don't want fleas. You ask Steve to help you go down to the river so you can change your clothes and wash the ones you'd been wearing. You're still too sick to do a good job, but Steve sits half behind you and helps your aching arms scrub the fabric against the makeshift washer (corrugated metal from a shed roof).

Being sick isn't so bad when you have that much love at your back, metaphorically and physically. You lean all of your weight on him and sigh. 

"Love you," you say. 

"Love you," he says back. He holds your wet hands in his. "Now let's go and warm you back up, loser. You're just dying to get hypothermia." 

"It's in season." 

"Funny." 

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 7

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 28). Remember that "Bee" is the reader's nickname, angst as always, fighting between our two main characters + smut, and fluff.

a/n: Hello! Chapter 6 is here. First, I want to thank every one of you for reading and reblog and comment on my story, it makes my heart happy. This chapter is shorter than the last two, but is a chapter I had to rewrite 3 times because, but I didn't like it at all, but I hope you do a little bit at least? haha. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated and please share your thoughts with me, I love reading from you No proofreading so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. Happy reading. 💌

masterlist

It's been two weeks since your last visit to Joel's place. It's been two weeks since you showed up on his doorstep, angry and broken because you blamed him for wrecking your plans to move on and start a new life, and two weeks since he kissed you.

Two weeks, and Joel had started to become crazy because of your radio silence.

He had thought that after your emotional outburst, you would simply need time to think, hoping that you would return sooner and ask him to try, for real this time.

After three months of not having you that close, he had replayed every moment of with you, every touch, your eyes, and the taste of your lips. He had poured his heart out to you, declared his love, and yet your response was requesting time to consider his intentions.

He feared you were tired of him, and the accident's wounds didn't hurt as much as his heart. He was recovering faster, yet his emotions were pained.

He recalled the night he crushed your heart, thinking this is exactly how you felt when you said "I love you" and he failed to respond the same back. For him, the irony of pain was how badly you wanted to be comforted by the one who hurt you, but now it was you who wasn't there.

The longing for you got stronger as the days passed, and it became increasingly difficult for him to sit still and wait for you to reach for him. Joel acknowledged that your silence wasn't completely a rejection, but he was afraid that the distance you were creating might shatter what was left of your story.

He didn't want you to become a memory; instead, he wanted to create memories with you.

"I think she's being unfair to Joel," Tommy said over dinner, seeing Sarah, Lily, and Joel's gaze on him.

"Why do you mean by that?" Lily asked, defiantly

 "Joel told her he loved him, wasn't that what she wanted?" he inquired.

Joel threw his brother a cautionary stare as Lily scoffed.

"No, no, it wasn't. She didn't stay because of him."

The weight of the conversation was pressing down on Joel. He was aware that everyone around him were concerned about him, but at the same time he hated how everyone had a say about you and him, not knowing what really was involved.

"It's not like he forced her to stay," Tommy continued.

Joel's irritation was rising, and he felt the tension between his brother and Lily; after all, she was your best friend, and she would defend you from everyone.

Joel pushed his plate aside, feeling that he was in an endless cycle of emotional limbo as he lost his appetite. All he wanted was to have you back in his life, but that was a decision only you could make, and it was driving him insane.

"Can you both stop?" Joel interfered, his voice firm. "I don't need you two fighting over something that was my mistake."

Tommy and Lily fell silent, their expressions softening with concern. They exchanged a glance before Lily spoke, her tone gentler now. "Joel, Tommy is worried about you. We can see how much you're hurting."

Joel nodded, acknowledging their concern. "I know. Thanks for looking out for me, but this is something I have to figure out with Bee. If she needs time, I'll give her time, even if it kills me”

Tommy, understanding his brother's feelings, nodded in agreement. "You're right, Joel. We'll be here for you, no matter what."

Joel appreciated their support, but he couldn't help but wish that you would break the silence and give him some clarity about your feelings. The uncertainty was becoming almost unbearable.

Joel continued going back to the moments you'd had, your most recent overwhelming argument, and your decision to take some time apart. He wished he could break the stillness and tell you how much he loved you. He wasn't just driven by the desire to fix his mistake; he also wanted to repair a relationship that had been harmed due to his commitment.

He felt more anxious with each passing day, his longing for your presence almost unnerving. The gap between you required to be filled with understanding, trust, and reconciliation.

He'd been on edge for days, spending his days recovering from the accident, alone when Sarah departed for school, with only a painful silence echoing in the back of his mind, waiting for any sign from you.

When the doorbell rang one hour later, he felt a rush of hope running through his body, thinking that maybe you had finally come to him to talk things through. He rushed to the door and opened it, only to find you standing there with a serious expression and small envelope in your hand.

"Joel," you said before he had a chance to say something "I've come to give you this."

He was taken aback, expecting an emotional talk rather than a monotonous tone leaking through your voice, indicating an absence of enthusiasm.

You didn't even look like yourself; you were painted in grey shades.

"What's that?" he asked.

You handed him the envelope containing the money he had paid Connell for your shop behind your back "I don't need anything from you, Joel. Not your pity, not the idea that you own me because you bought my shop. I can take care of myself."

Joel's face contorted with an array of emotions as he was taken aback by your words. "Bee, it's not about that. I—"

But you cut him off, your frustration evident in your voice. "Joel, you can't just buy something I love, throw your money at my back, or kiss me and expect everything to be fine." You won't be able to buy your way back into my life."

He struggled to hold back his anger in the midst of your stubbornness any longer. "I'm not attempting to bribe my way in, Bee. I thought I was showing how much I cared, how much I was willing to do to in order to make things right."

Your eyes were filled with rage. "What?" you ask. "You thought that once I found out you were the one buying my shop, I was going to run back to you?" "That I was going to be over heals for you?" you hit him in the chest.

Joel's rage and pain welled up within him. He tried to narrow the gap between you and make amends, but every step he took appeared to push you farther away. In an outburst of rage, he cried out, "What do you want from me, Bee?" "How long will it take for us to get things right?"

You shook your head, the annoyance clear in your voice. "You can't expect grand gestures to fix everything." It takes time, effort, and faith to repair what has been damaged."

"All right," he said, taking a step closer to you and leaning in closer. "If you despise me that much, leave!" "Leave as you said you were going to"

You stared at him agape, your own anger rising at him. His words stung.

Joel's remarks had hurt deep, and you couldn't deny that you had been holding resentment and rage. But his closeness, his intensity, made you feel weak "Maybe you want to go back to what we used to be, all the fighting, all the cursing," he whispered in your ear, "Maybe you loved that."

The harsh tone of his words caught you off guard. Your feelings for one other were a tangled knot of love, anger, impatience, and hurt.

You were drawn in by his dark gaze, and you cupped his face firmly feeling the warmth of the skin beneath your fingertips. The rage remained, but beneath it was an obvious spell that kept you together.

"Shut up," you commanded, your stare locked on his, his lips inches from yours, his breath against your mouth.

"Make me," he challenged you, staring you in the eyes.

Joel's dare hung in the air, challenging you to break the distance dividing you, to let go of your rage and fury, and eventually give in to the magnetic pull that had always been between you.

You crashed both of your lips with not a single word, going into an intense kiss. It was laced with desire and frustration against each other, the climax of all the tension that had been building over the weeks you were together once and three months apart. Your lips moved eagerly together, each of you pouring all of your feelings into the kiss.

And now that his arm was healed, he clutched your hips and push you against the door, without intentions of stopping devouring your mouth in this hungry kiss. Your arms found their way to his neck to tangle into his locks, and Joel groaned into your mouth.

"You fucking idiot," you muttered between kisses, but he bit your bottom lip to silence you as his hands moved from your hips to your bum and to your waist, drawing you closer to him. His lips started kissing your neck until they found your mouth once more, you whimpered against his mouth.

His hands found the gem in your top and yanked it off. He'd spent the last three months longing to see you like this again, and now he was on cloud nine.

"Bedroom," he whispered softly, not breaking the kiss.

Once you stepped in his room, you were lying on your back with him on top, taking your lips back to his again.

You placed your arms around his neck and opened your legs so he could go closer to you, moaning at the sensation of him against where you wanted him most.

"This doesn't mean anything," you whispered as he ground his hips against yours, sending electricity running through your body.

"Shut up," he said, and you chuckled, grabbing his pants.

"Make me," you said, with a smirk on your face just like he did minutes ago.

He groaned into the skin of your neck, yanking his jeans and underwear off. Your gentle grasp on him caused him to whimper.

He drew you closer to him by your hips as you continued to devour one other, his hands going under the denim skirt you were wearing.

You knew this was bad, that allowing him to do these types of things with you was a show of weakness, but you couldn't stop the joy and the dazzling fireworks traveling up to your lower stomach were stronger than your thoughts. You were utterly out of breath, and you wanted him so bad it ached that you felt your lungs would catch fire. 

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

He paused kissing you and spreading kisses on your chest for a moment to gaze at your parted lips and your chest rising and falling as a result of him, and he couldn't lie, he felt proud of his lasting control over you.

"Are you going to keep looking or are you going to f-"

You couldn't finish before he snatched your lips back, dragging you around his waist and grinding himself against you, making you moan against his lips. With such want, you could feel the aching growing up between your tights.

"You don't seem so mad at me right now, do you?" he huskily whispered in your ear, making your knees weak.

Before you could fire your retort, his fingers teasingly pulled your underwear down, careful to avoid where you wanted him the most. He seemed to be having a good time and enjoying every second of you squirming under him. Your head fell back to the bed, a gentle but irritated murmur from your lips. When he saw your reaction, he smiled, and you felt the delicate touch of his fingers stroking across your core.

"Oh," you whimpered, out of breath.

His soft lips caressed every single area of your skin on your chest, just over your red bra, with an agonizing slowness that made you insane and roll your eyes of pure pleasure. The one he unhooked with one hand so swiftly you gasped, a sound drowned out by the sensation of his lips over your nipples while he continued to pound on you at your core.

He greets you with a laugh, his cheeks exposing his dimples, and his eyes shining at the sight of you.

"Stop teasing, you idiot," you grumbled.

He sucked on a nipple, causing your back to arch as he gripped your hips to the bed before meeting your eyes, absorbing every inch of your face lost in the joy of the moment, stroking your checks with his thumb.

As he grabbed for a condom from his bedside table, you grip the gem of his t-shirt to remove it, leaving no barrier between the two of you.

He moved between your tights, spreading them apart once more, and welcomed himself into you. You hadn't had him since that night when you confessed to him, and he felt even bigger than you remembered, and you both gasped when he began thrusting inside. He pushed his forehead against your neck, kissing you softly over the skin.

"You're amazing like this," he said into your ear, "God I could just-"

He could complete it since he focused solely on making you pleased picking up his pace and thrusting quicker. He was completely inside you, feeling like he was breaking down your defenses as he pushed it on and on. You were out of breath, and all the air in your lungs didn't feel quite enough. You bucked your hips, allowing him to move even more quickly. And that's exactly what he did, giving you everything you asked for.

As your nails left red lines on his naked back and he thrust his hips harder into you, you could feel the heat spreading all over your body, like diesel meeting fire, causing an imminent explosion.

You struggled to breathe, but it didn't matter since the surge of ectasis he gave you was enough to make you feel alive. His finger traced the patterns over you, leaving hot flames all over your skin, and you clutched him, trying to appreciate this closeness before it was ripped away.

And he continued to rock into you. The sounds you both produced were completely hot, forcing your blood to rush into your checks as you continued to toss your head back to give him permission to mark the skin of your neck.

"Fuck you," you said in ecstasy,

"you’re doing it, love" he retorted.

You grasped for his hair to hold him tight against your lips, kissing the warm skin under his ear as if you wanted him to hear you, panting for air, feeling your climax come so close that you trembled against his body. Not long after, your world spun around you, and you tightened your grip on his waist, feeling the release as you cursed in his ear, forcing him to release after you. His push grew sloppy, sending small sparks up your tights, till he came to a halt and you saw a delicious sight.

He kissed your temple for a few seconds longer, enjoying the sweat drips on your skin. Finally, you looked into his eyes. His brow eyes' delicate brightness sent thrills down your spine, leaving you with a lump in your throat.

 Joel chuckled as he caressed your warm face, his touch on your skin radiating affection. All of the tension and resentment that led you to have sex before disappeared into the void.

"You don't have to go anywhere," he leaned in, his lips brushing against your brow. You're exactly where you should be."

You closed your eyes, appreciating his proximity and the soothing sound of his voice. “How can I trust you?”

Joel's lips lingered on your forehead as he replied, his words filled with sincerity, "Because when I hold you like this, it's where I find peace and meaning, Bee. I was a fool not to see it then. It took almost losing you to realize I'm in love with you."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, everything seemed to align. The honesty in his confession left you breathless. The anger, the passion, and the pain you both had shared had led you to this moment, where the love you had for each other was undeniable.

Your heart ached at his words "Joel, it's not that simple. There's so much we need to work through, so much we need to rebuild."

He nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I know, Bee”

Joel rested his forehead against yours, enveloping the both of you in comfortable silence.

“Can you give me my clothes, please?” You asked breaking the atmosphere

With a heavy heart, Joel nodded and reluctantly pulled away from you.

He moved to take your clothes from the ground of his bedroom and handed them to you. The air between you felt charged. The lust, and passion you felt for each other leaded you to crossed the line once again, this time, being the anger, the main feeling holding you together.

“You don’t have to go now, you know that?” he pleaded,

You avoid looking into his eyes, you knew you were weak for the man and you could fall for his words.

“I know, but I need to” you answered, as you quickly dressed, convincing yourself, you didn’t want to give yourself so easily to him again.

"Can you give me my clothes, please?" You spoke, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. 

Joel nodded, involuntarily breaking away from you, with a heavy heart.

He took your clothes from the floor of his bedroom and handed them to you. The space between you now felt tense again. The lust and passion you had for each other drove you to cross the boundary once more, but this time with fury as the main feeling holding you together.

"You don't have to go now, you know that?" He begged,

You avoid looking into his eyes because you know that you were vulnerable for him and you might be persuaded by his words.

"I know, but I have to," you replied as you hurriedly dressed, assuring yourself that you didn't want to give yourself so easily to him.

Joel sat there silently watching you, his eyes full with love and need for you. He knew what had just happened was fueled by rage and desire, and that didn't mean you were okay with him. It would be difficult to repair your connection.

You turned to face Joel as you finished dressing. "I need some time, Joel." Time to reflect, heal, and figure out where we stand."

“It was good by the way” you addressed smiling at him, referring to what you’d had “But it doesn’t mean I want to be with you right now."

With those words, you made your way to his bedroom door.

“And what was that back at the hospital when I got into the accident?” he asked before you left, “Would you rather for me to be dead or what?”

You came to a halt as his words impacted you like a punch in the gut. You turned back to face Joel, your rage returning.

"That's not fair, Joel," you replied, your voice shaking with emotion. "You know I would rather die than lose you like that".

"Then why are you so scared?" he questioned, reaching for you once more.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to fight the oncoming storm of emotions. "Because I'm not just afraid of losing you." I'm afraid I'll lose myself again. "I'm afraid of getting hurt." You let out a sigh. "You led me on back then, how can I trust you again?"

Joel took a step closer, his voice desperate. "I promise not to hurt you again, Bee." I've learned from my errors. Give us a chance to make things right."

You shook your head, unable to find the appropriate words. "Joel, I need more than promises. I need time for healing and rebuild trust. That is a process that cannot be rushed."

Joel sagged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. "I'm at a loss for words, Bee. I love you and will do everything for you."

You took a step back, putting distance between you two. "Joel, love is more than just saying the words. It's all about showing it through actions."

You turned and walked away from Joel, leaving him with a broken heart and a need that mirrored your own.

You had taken refuge in your own peace a week later, evaluating your alternatives in all facets of your life. What were you going to do with your work, yourself, and even Connell, since despite his assurances that he would never hate you, you own him more than you realize.

And on the opposite side, there was Joel. He had expressed his love for you, but you had learned that words are insufficient in this instance. You knew it would take time to reestablish confidence. But as time passed, you couldn't help but miss him even more than you did the first time. He had a tremendous power over you. The times you spent together, the laughter, the shared moments, and how he taught you to fall in love again.

You remembered that night at the gallery when he showed you the drawing he had made of you. When he first caressed the skin of your body, leaving his mark on you.

Deep down, you knew that love was a tricky and imperfect emotion that didn't always follow a straight line. Despite your concerns, you wished to give Joel another chance.

A knock on the door broke through your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, cautiously approaching the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to see Lauren standing on your porch. She looked concerned, her gaze avoiding direct contact with yours.

"Lauren, what are you doing here?" "How do you know where I live?" you wondered. Your tone was a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Lauren took a big breath and looked you in the eyes. "I need to speak with you. "Can I come in?"

You hesitated for a second before stepping aside and allowing her to enter. She entered your living room and sat, her posture eager and apprehensive.

You joined her on the couch after closing the door behind her. "What's this about, Lauren?"

Lauren looked at you, her eyes searching for understanding. “I know our first encounter wasn’t friendly, and I want to apologize. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted”

Lauren's honesty in her eyes was not lost on you. You were afraid she was coming to tell you she was now with Joel, which could break your heart.

Lauren continued "And I'm really ashamed of this but I think you should forgive Joel"

You took a big breath, unsure what to say. Lauren's apologies caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for words. "I appreciate your apology, Lauren," you said after a little pause. It means a lot to me." "But Joel isn't a topic I want to discuss with you," you said timidly.

"It is," she replied. "I know you weren't together. He told me."

Your pupils dilated, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"And yes, at first I wanted to be with him," she admitted. "I wanted my family back, but it's too late now." And I have to thank Sarah for accepting me back into her life after what I did, but Joel? will never love me again."

"Why are you so sure?" you questioned, your tone tense.

"Because he has been in love since the beginning."

"The eyes, he had been looking at you with such adoration, neither I had those eyes looking at me like that."

You were out of breath, and a knot formed in your throat.

"No, that's not-"

"You love him too," she said, "and let me tell you something, the years I lost with Sarah?" I'm not going to get them back. So, if you and Joel truly love each other, don't waste more time."

Lauren's sudden comments stunned you while also leaving you conflicted. Her apology for her prior behavior was a step toward peacemaking, but her admissions regarding Joel and his sentiments caught you off guard.

You paused before responding, your mind racing, "I'm not sure I want to get hurt again."

She nodded in agreement, and he dug inside her purse for something, that turned out to be a journal.

She nodded in understanding, and then he reached for something inside her bag for something, it was a journal.

“I stole this from Joel. I think you should take a look” she laughed, giving the journal to you.

“I just don't want to see you both miss out on something beautiful because of fear or doubts. Life's too short for regrets."

You looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I need time, Lauren, to figure things out and heal. I'll consider what you've said, though. Thank you for your apology and for your concern."

Lauren smiled warmly at you “Good luck” she said.

You couldn't help but stare at the book in your hands as you saw Lauren leave your house.

The journal she had given you caught your curiosity, and you couldn't stop yourself from opening it to find out what was inside.

You started flipping the pages, knowing it was Joel's journal. The entries spanned several years ago, from the years you arrived here, and reading them made you feel touched by the depth of his feelings and the journey he had been on. The pages were crammed with his ideas, hopes, and dreams, many of which were centered on you.

Joel had written about the day you two first met and the times he had spent with you, but it was the drawings of you that grabbed your attention.

"The pretty florist next to my gallery looking at her flowers"

"The florist in her environment, framed by a floral tapestry."

"The pretty florist, a captivating muse for my brush and canvas."

All of the entries were from the last four years.

However, the most recent one, from a year ago,

"the florist who stole my heart"

And you realized Joel had been loving you long before you had feelings for him.

a/n: Okay, so you know things may get better between them...

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | july 8 - july 14

note: we are halfway! this is 29.5k. i hope you all enjoy it. we are in the meat of it now! things are getting angsty, but i loooove love love these pairings more than anything and i hope you guys are enjoying this series just as much as El Capitan (Cappy) and I are <3

43:90 – TREVOR

do you smoke?

Trevor really likes Honey. He does. That's why he hasn't blocked Bea’s number yet. He never should have gone to see her at The Reading Nook in the first place. He could've won Honey on his own– and did– but Trevor has to deal with the nasty side effect of his own actions. The side effect is that Bea still texts him all the time, asking silly questions like this.

&! &! IF i brought weed to the house, would i be the victim of a murder?

You're going to be the victim of a murder right now if you don't stop texting me. Yes, we all smoke on occasion. You can come over if you bring Honey.

she’s not already there? ;)

Trevor narrows his eyes at his phone and doesn't reply. No, Honey isn’t already here, and Trevor wishes he could get her to stay over after they hook up. He’s stayed at her place twice now. He should be afforded the same luxury of having Honey in his bed rather than being the guest star in Honey’s bed. 

She needs to get used to sleeping in his bed anyway, since Scarlett has decided that they’re getting married. If the ladies know, then there’s a chance that everyone in Litchton knows. Trevor realizes that Sarah said the ladies loved Honey more than the chance to gossip– but you never know. All of their efforts to keep things secret could be in vain.

Even though it seems pointless, Trevor likes that Jack, Cole, and Luke are still in the dark. No matter how many times they tease him for being so down bad for Honey, Trevor won’t break. Each one of them ends their chirps with something about how Honey would never shack up with Trevor– even though Jack and Cole really want it to happen– and the knowledge that they’re wrong keeps Trevor strong.

Honey would shack up with him, actually, and regularly does so. When he sees her tonight, they’ll probably shack up again, especially if they’ve got some weed in their system. Trevor can’t wait to see what Honey’s like while she’s high– he’s only ever seen her drunk and she rarely ever loses her inhibitions.

Trevor hears the door open when the girls arrive. They never knock anymore. They haven’t since the first time they came over. They just walk right in because the boys always leave the doors unlocked during the day– it’s Litchton. There’s no crime in this town. The worst thing that happens in a day is that someone jaywalks from The Reading Nook to their car.

He hears the boys call to them from the basement and he hears them bounding down the stairs. He hears Bea present a bag of weed to the room and Cole’s loud cheer. He’s got time before they roll up the weed into something smokeable. While he waits, he changes into his sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, knowing that he’s going to get cold when he smokes. He’ll bring his sweatshirt downstairs later. Trevor tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It’s getting a little long.

He busies himself until he hears the loud crash of Cole climbing the steps, probably having been sent to summon Trevor to the basement. 

“Let’s go, dude,” Cole calls, rapping on the door. “Weed! Downstairs.”

“I know, I’m coming,” Trevor says. He crosses his room and opens the door. Cole is already grinning dopily, like he’s consumed his own joint within the past few minutes and he’s already halfway to high.

Cole scampers down the hallway ahead of Trevor, practically bouncing off the walls. It’s rare that they get the chance to smoke at any point during the year. Weed isn’t banned in the league, but the boys are tested pretty regularly. Executives tend to frown on people that smoke weed, but– shockingly– don’t have much to say when it comes to alcohol abuse.

Still, the boys are able to risk it today. They’ve got half a summer left, which is plenty of time for the drug to get out of their system before their preseason tests.

They used to smoke over the summers before they joined the league. Cole always preferred smoking over drinking, so the times that they get to roll up a blunt, he’s all over it. Bea has no idea what she’s started.

They head down to the basement, with Cole crashing onto the loveseat face-first. He turns over onto his back. His knees bend over the edge of the couch and he places a pillow under his neck. “Hurry up,” Cole whines.

Honey frowns at him, raising the paper roll to her lips. She licks over the edge of the paper and seals it down like an envelope. “God, your highness,” she scoffs. “Impatient much?”

“Weed, please,” Cole says. He’s smiling extra-wide and pinches his fingers at Honey until she hands the completed joint his way.

Honey starts to roll a new one. She’s kneeling beside the coffee table, using a plastic sandwich bag like a rolling board. Jack is leaning over her shoulder, hooking his chin over her exposed skin. 

Trevor would get angry at Jack being so close to the girl, but Honey pats the side of Jack’s face and tells him something that Trevor doesn’t catch, and the boy leans back. He’s the next one to receive a joint, which he’s quick to light and take a drag from before sharing with Luke.

“Bea, where’d you get this shit?” Trevor asks, finally drawing attention to himself.

Honey scoffs, snorting under her breath. 

“Don’t laugh!” Bea exclaims, reaching forward and tugging Honey’s hair, hard. “I got it from this guy named Griffin.”

Trevor immediately thinks of his brother, who shares a name with Bea’s dealer. He should probably call him soon. 

“How do you know Griffin?” Honey asks.

Bea glares at the girl out of the side of her eye. “We dated.”

“What’s Griffin’s job?” Honey continues.

Bea whines, pouting slightly. She looks at Quinn for a second, but the boy shakes his head and grins. “He’s Litchton’s deputy sheriff,” Bea growls.

Trevor laughs to himself. Sometimes he forgets that Bea and Honey are more like sisters than friends and Honey loves to embarrass Bea when she can. Bea’s not really the kind to be embarrassed, but occasionally Honey hits the nail on the head and milks it for all her jokes are worth.

Of course Bea dated the deputy sheriff and of course he still gives her confiscated evidence. It just makes sense.

Honey goes silent and smiles down at the third joint that she’s rolling. The group chats around her, but she’s all that Trevor can focus on. 

She looks gorgeous today. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and keeps falling into her eyes, a little wet and stringy from the rain. Honey is wearing a tank top that ties in the front in a cute little bow– the thin string is so flimsy that Trevor might “accidentally” pull it loose once they’re alone. Her fingers are deft as she assembles and rolls the paper into a neat little cylinder. 

When she finishes that roll, she hands the joint to Bea, who puts the joint between her lips and waits for Quinn to spark the lighter, holding it to the other end of the joint so she doesn’t have to.

Trevor understands why Honey was glaring at them so much yesterday. They’re gross.

Honey rolls up the rest of the weed into a couple more joints. Trevor is surprised that the deputy sheriff handed all of this evidence off to Bea, considering it produced a good crop of roll-ups. Surely this guy would’ve liked to smoke some of the weed. Maybe he gets tested way more often than Trevor and can’t smoke. Poor Griffin.

Cole offers his joint to Trevor, who takes it and inhales. It’s been a minute since he smoked anything, so the smoke feels grainy when it makes its way down his throat and into his lungs. It takes everything in him not to cough. He’ll be damned if he’s the first one to cough this evening. 

He’s saved by Luke, luckily. The boy has to shift on the couch and bury his face in a throw pillow. 

Bea, who seems to have claimed the recliner with Quinn as their designated, unassigned-assigned seat, leans forward to pat the boy’s back. “Aw, Lukey,” she coos. “Let it out. You know, the more you cough, the higher you get.”

“That’s not true,” Honey says with an eye roll. 

“Anything can be true if you believe,” Bea replies, still rubbing Luke’s back. She allows Quinn to steal the joint from between her fingers and he inhales deep. Trevor half expects him to cough it out and take Bea’s attention from his younger brother, but he just holds the smoke in his chest for a moment before exhaling a dim cloud.

Honey climbs onto the loveseat, lifting Cole’s pillow and head so that she can slide underneath. Trevor takes the final seat on the couch between the two younger Hughes brothers, returning Cole’s joint to him. Trevor is now part of Jack and Luke’s blunt rotation.

Bea throws on the same trashy reality show that she got Cole hooked on a few weeks ago and they watch that for a while. It’s refreshing to see drama unfold on a television screen rather than in their own lives– Trevor remembers for the first time in a while that they originally came to Litchton because a group of girls were so interested in hanging out with the boys that they committed a crime to do so. 

Trevor didn’t realize how much he valued his anonymity until he came to Litchton and rediscovered it. The only thing that people are talking about in town, at least in regards to Trevor, is his love life. That’s not even confirmed– it’s just a bunch of old ladies assuming the correct thing as a coincidence. Maybe Trevor and Honey should be more careful. 

Nah.

Over the next half hour, the room starts to fill with smoke, so much so that Bea slides off of Quinn to open the glass sliding door and ‘increase air flow.’ When she returns, she settles down on his lap like it’s her throne. 

Trevor wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. He keeps an eye on them for one stubborn reason that’s being repeated over and over in the back of his mind– that should be him and Honey.

Honey is sharing a joint with Cole, petting her fingers through his hair in a way that has Cole drifting off to sleep. She’s taken control of the joint, holding it lazily between her index and middle fingers. Her palm faces the sky as her elbow rests on the arm of the couch, wrist bending daintily. When she inhales, she looks at the person in the group who’s talking. When she exhales, she rolls her head back and blows the smoke towards the ceiling. She usually closes her eyes in relief when she does. 

It’s the prettiest thing Trevor has ever seen. He wishes he could take a picture of Honey right now, just so that he could freeze this moment forever. She’s so pretty. She could ask Trevor to do anything right now and he would– no questions asked. “Get me a beer, Trevor?” He’d be on his feet and upstairs in an instant, grabbing her three beers so that she doesn’t run out. “Trevor, it’s hot in here. Turn the thermostat down.” Yes, ma’am. 68ºF, just for you. 

“Come over here and eat me out.” 

Trevor wishes she would say that. He would do it. He’d tune out the things that the other boys would inevitably say and bury himself between Honey’s legs until she’s satisfied and then, only then, he’d stop.

He realizes he’s staring and that’s how he knows that the high has started to set in. His eyes are growing a little dry and it’s getting harder to follow the conversation. Trevor feels like he’s moving through caramel. 

He stares at Honey for another moment, then looks around the room. No one is watching him. He’s sandwiched between them, but Luke and Jack are talking around Trevor and debating one of the couples on this show. Cole is practically asleep on Honey’s lap, although Honey is currently holding the joint to his lips and he’s breathing in. Bea and Quinn– well, Bea and Quinn seem to be entangled. 

As Trevor watches, a little horrified by just how much the two are touching, Quinn inhales and holds the smoke in his mouth until Bea ghosts her lips over his. It’s then that he exhales, letting the smoke fill Bea’s mouth. They’re shotgunning. Trevor crinkles his nose and frowns, appalled by the blatant show that they’re putting on.

At least he kept his musings to himself. Bea and Quinn have commenced some detailed, lavish, public foreplay journey. Trevor is disgusted.

And, if he is being honest, a little turned on. He wants to shotgun with Honey. How unfair is it that Bea and Quinn can just do all of this shit, and Trevor has to sit on an entirely separate couch than Honey in the interest of preserving the secrecy of their relationship? Bullshit.

Acting on an impulse, Trevor digs his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and searches for Honey’s messages. He leans forward and turns his brightness down, tapping out an honest, blunt message and sending it. He pockets his phone and waits for Honey to check her messages. 

Wanna eat u out baby u look pretty today

She doesn’t react in a timely manner. Trevor frowns.

He tries again.

Maybe get my dick in u I know how much u like it when I fuck u

Still, nothing from Honey.

Trevor furrows his eyebrows and pulls his phone out for a third time. In his hazy mind, there’s some cloudy baseball metaphor floating about– if Honey doesn’t respond to this message, Trevor’s got his answer. Strike three. There it is– the metaphor makes it out of his high unscathed.

God, Trevor is lucky that everyone is caught up in their own thing. If the boys saw him smiling at his own joke while he types out a dirty message to a girl, they’d rag on him relentlessly. 

Will u sleep over tn?

“Honey, baby, your phone won’t stop buzzing and it’s annoying me,” Bea whines, tugging at the pocket of the sweatshirt she’s wearing until she produces Honey’s phone. “You’re distracting me from Quinn.”

“Text them back and tell them to stop annoying you,” Honey replies, nonchalant and laughing. She’s holding the joint just above Cole’s lips, but raising it out of reach each time he tries to capture it for another hit.

Trevor wants to interrupt and shout, “No! No, don’t!” but Bea is already tapping out Honey’s password. Even worse, Quinn adjusts the girl on his lap so that he can see Honey’s phone, too.

Trevor watches in petrified slow motion as Bea’s and Quinn’s eyes dance along the length of his messages. He watches as they, in sync, let their eyes double-check his name in Honey’s phone. Then, he watches a devilish and gleeful grin coat Bea’s face. Quinn’s smirk is much more predatory. When Quinn looks at Trevor, the look in his eye is just: “I know something you don’t want me to know. I’m going to milk the fuck out of this.”

Trevor presses his lips together in a grimace. He closes his eyes for just long enough to acknowledge the humiliation he’s experiencing now. He’s sure his face is brick-red. It might be the high, but he can feel the tips of his ears bristling with shame.

He sees Quinn fit his mouth next to Bea’s ear, whispering something that has her giggling and then squirming when he blows cool air over her neck.

“I think you’ll want to answer these,” Bea announces to Honey when she recovers, piquing the interest of the other boys. She tosses the phone across to Honey, who catches it, and the boys follow the throw like a dog about to fetch a ball. 

Honey turns the phone over in her hand and looks at the screen, brushing her hair out of her face with her pinkie, still holding the joint between her index and middle fingers. She had a smile on her face when her phone illuminated her features, but that dropped almost as soon as it appeared. 

Trevor braces for the worst. Honey looks shocked. Despite her expression, a pretty pink blush blooms across her cheeks. He gulps when her eyes find him. 

“What did it say?” Jack demands, bouncing a little bit in his seat. 

“It’s– nothing,” Honey says, waving her hand and shutting her phone off. 

She’s a terrible liar when she’s high. It just makes Jack more interested. Cole still isn’t that excited– he’s waking up from his weird limbo nap– and Trevor couldn’t be more glad. He’d be able to snatch Honey’s phone in an instant. Trevor can hear his heart beating way more rapidly than normal.

“What is it?” Jack asks, his voice growing more cartoonish. He looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. 

“A– guy,” Honey stammers out. 

Trevor can tell that she’s trying not to lie, because she’s so shit at it, but she doesn’t want to reveal the whole truth. She’s better than him– he would have run away by now. The boys would’ve chased him, but he still would’ve ran.

“You’ve been seeing a guy?” Jack says, sounding incredulous. His head turns to Trevor, meeting his eyes. 

For a second, Trevor thinks he’s been caught, but then Jack scoffs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Jack laughs. He sighs comically, then elbows Trevor in the ribs. Jack looks back at Honey. “What did this dude say that has you all bothered? Do we need to go beat him up, or is this a good look? I’m hoping it’s a good look by the little smile on your face.” He reaches forward, index finger waving over Honey’s face until it finds its mark at the corner of her mouth. He stumbles a little bit, almost falling forward off the couch when Honey bats him away.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Honey tells Jack with a practiced, but fake smile. She’s turning on the charm. Trevor despises the way she grabs Jack’s finger and wiggles it affectionately. “Really, he’s nothing to write home about. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys.”

Nothing to write home about, Trevor seethes. Yuh-huh!

“What was it?” Jack presses.

“He asked me to sleep over,” Honey reveals, rolling her eyes a bit like she’s unimpressed. Trevor disagrees. That was a pretty impressive line.

“What are you going to say?” Cole demands, piping in for the first time. 

Now, Trevor’s heart freezes as Cole tries to feel for Honey’s phone. Partially because of the chance that he’ll find Honey’s phone, but also partially because Cole’s hand is getting awfully close to Honey’s tits, and those belong to Trevor.

Yes, he turns into a caveman when he’s high. He likes Honey. So what?

Honey just twists out from under him and stands, brushing her hands over the arm of the couch as she slinks away. “I was thinking,” she drawls. Her eyes slide over to meet Trevor’s and his heart starts again because she’s answering him in front of everyone. She licks her lower lip before continuing. He licks his subconsciously like he’s spellbound, following her every move. “That I’d tell him to come back to mine instead.” 

Fuck, Trevor’s hard. He bundles up his fists and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to mask his bulge. He looks up to find that Bea noticed and she’s holding back a laugh. Quinn just smiles. Man, Trevor wishes he could wipe it off Quinn’s face.

“Good answer,” Jack says, nodding. “We approve.”

“Go get laid, bro,” Cole adds, offering a fist-bump to the girl. She’s upside down in his vision, so they don’t connect first try.

Honey laughs. “Thanks,” she says. “I’m hoping to.”

And then she disappears up the stairs.

The air is still for a minute. Trevor flashes a glare at Bea and Quinn before collapsing into the cushions of the couch, covering his face with his hands.

“Bro, don’t worry about it,” Jack says. He pats Trevor on the stomach. “This is why you’re on Raya, remember? Just find some other girl to hook up with.”

Trevor spreads his fingers wide enough to nail Jack with a glare. 

“Yeah, but that’s the difference between them,” Quinn says, jumping in where he’s not wanted. He’s still got that stupid, smug, knowing smirk on his face. “Trevor’s hooking up with other people because he has to. Honey’s hooking up with other people because she wants to.”

Bea frowns and flicks Quinn’s earlobe. “Be nice,” she chides, her words dripping with false pity. “Poor Trev just got his heart broken.” She turns to Trevor and quirks an eyebrow. “Will you be okay?” She mocks.

Quinn laughs quietly, splaying his fingers out over Bea’s stomach, his fingertips dipping beneath the fabric. He kisses her shoulder, then her neck. He’s still smirking. Trevor really wishes he could do something about it.

“I’ll be fine,” Trevor growls through his teeth. A lightbulb seems to turn on in his head– this is actually the perfect escape route. “Actually, I was thinking about inviting someone over. I’m waiting for her to text me back.”

“Atta boy!” Cole cheers.

Trevor stands, flashing his own smug smirk Quinn’s way. See, look how smart I am, he says to Quinn in his mind. The other boy is unbothered, which is annoying. “I’m going to go up to my room and get ready for her.”

“Make sure you put the nice sheets on,” Luke jokes dryly. “The 300-count.”

“Maybe after we’re done,” Trevor replies. He stumbles a bit while maneuvering around the coffee table, but he can’t be judged for that. None of them have stood up, except for Honey and Bea, since they started smoking. Trevor is brave for being the first. The first man to stand, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s a warrior.

Honey seems to agree. She’s waiting for him by the front door, her arms crossed over her chest and leaning back against the wall. “You’re very brave for sending me those messages in a room full of all of our friends,” she teases, trying to hide a smile from him. When he gets close enough, she reaches out and pulls him in by his shirt, planting a kiss on his lips. 

“I didn’t know Bea would have your phone,” Trevor tells her sheepishly, almost apologetic in his tone. 

“It’s okay,” Honey says. She pulls him down for another kiss. “I think it’s cute when you’re all bold. You really just go for it, huh?”

“Go big or go home,” Trevor says, letting his hands make their way under the sides of her shirt. He fits his fingers along the curve of her waist on either side, moving slowly. She’s soft and warm and he really, really can’t imagine anything prettier. It could be the high talking. Or maybe Honey is that pretty, so pretty that the light from the bulb on the other side of the front door shines through the window and turns her golden.

“Speaking of home,” Honey says, pulling away from Trevor’s touch. She loops her pinkie with his index finger and reaches for the door with her other hand. “We have to move my car.”

“We can’t drive,” Trevor says, feeling suddenly alarmed. Surely she doesn’t expect him to get into a car with half a joint in his system.

“No, baby, we’re not going anywhere,” Honey corrects. “We just have to move it out of sight so the boys don’t know I’m here. I was thinking we’d go to the end of the driveway, then behind those trees. You can go up to your room if you want, or you can come with me.”

Honey could’ve said anything and Trevor would have agreed. All of his trepidation is gone. He’s melting into Honey’s touch and has been since the second she called him ‘baby.’ It was rushed and a little patronizing, and not at all like the way he says it to her, but it gave Trevor the same reaction.

He follows her through the front door and the beam from her smile at his decision is like a shot of adrenaline.

They’re careful not to slam her car doors or rev the engine too much as they creep up the driveway. They’re both being too slow and too careful and if anyone where to walk out of the house, they’d laugh and ask what the hell the couple was doing.

But they laugh like criminals getting away from a robbery scot-free. By the time Honey parks the car at the top of the driveway, sheltered from view, Trevor has lost his breath from how hard he’s laughing. He and Honey sigh at the same time, which sends them into a fresh fit of laughter.

Honey reaches into the waistband of her bottoms, where she was conveniently stashing a blunt. She holds it up to Trevor and wiggles a little in her seat, biting her lip to contain her excitement. “Got you a present,” she says. “Thought we could share.”

Trevor’s first thought is of Bea and Quinn passing smoke between them. His eyes drift down to Honey’s mouth, imagining doing the same thing. He doesn’t know if he could do it, hover there just millimeters from her lips. He’d be too eager. He’d want to kiss her too much to stay so, so close, but so far from her. It would be like torture. 

“Will you let me kiss you every time you hit it?” Trevor asks, staring at the way the bow of her lips curves when she smiles. 

“Only if you let me kiss you every time you hit it,” Honey replies, her tongue poking out as she laughs again.

Trevor groans, loving that answer. He leans forward to claim his prize, but Honey swerves him and his lips only catch the corner of hers. Trevor frowns. 

“Easy there, big boy,” Honey laughs, planting her hand on Trevor’s chest and pushing him back. “You haven’t even taken the roach yet.”

Trevor eyes her, then plucks the blunt from her fingertips. “How are we even going to light it?” Trevor asks, inspecting the wrapping. Not a wrinkle in sight.

“Cigarette lighter,” Honey says like it’s obvious. She reaches toward her console. She pushes a button and waits. “Perks of having an old car, Z.”

Trevor startles at the nickname. It’s what his friends call him. Honey shouldn’t be using it. “Don’t ‘Z’ me,” he deadpans. 

Honey raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Don’t!” Trevor repeats, wanting to stomp one foot like a child when he complains.

“Or what?” Honey asks, unfazed by Trevor’s annoyance. She seems thrilled, even, as she laughs.

“Or else!” Trevor announces, then looks away from Honey with a huff. He can’t stay in that position long, missing her too much when she’s out of view. 

She kisses him when he turns back, cradling his jaw in her hand with the most delicate touch of her fingertips. The pad of her index finger pets over the curve of Trevor’s jawline and he shivers. 

“You’re so stupid,” Honey whispers fondly. Trevor can feel the weight of her gaze after she pulls away. He basks in it.

Then, the cigarette lighter pops out of its spot and bounces. The hot end brushes Honey’s knuckle, burning her.

She jumps, gasping and pulling her hand up. She flexes it, pressing her lips together to hold in any noises of pain, and she looks up and to the side, blinking in surprise. She grinds her teeth and her face goes grim, almost angry. She doesn’t want to check it to see what it looks like. 

Trevor has her hand in his and his lips over the affected area in an instant, as if he can really kiss it better. “Oh, Honey,” he murmurs. 

Honey shudders. “Ugh, that was– overdramatic,” she sighs in a self-deprecating way. She shakes her hand out of Trevor’s grasp like the wound was nothing. She checks the spot and sees the red mark, but shakes it off again. She finds the cigarette lighter, right at the scene of the crime, and picks it up like an old friend. She lights the blunt and it burns and crackles between Trevor’s fingers, but he never lifts it.

“You got burnt,” Trevor says, sounding stupid. His eyes follow the branding on Honey’s skin. It has to hurt.

Honey leans in, getting into Trevor’s gaze. She blinks at him like she’s waving hello. “Baby, I got my nipples pierced,” she says. “A little burn isn’t going to hurt me.”

There it is. That ‘baby’ again.

Trevor goes from one trance to another, reminded of the silver bars adorning her chest. She gets so responsive when he sucks them. That’s why he likes them so much. She whines and curses and tugs on his hair and squirms when he nibbles on the accessories. It’s the only time she loses her composure completely, all because of Trevor. 

His eyes fix on the little bow keeping her shirt together. He considers it. Does he dare untie her now? This road is pretty secluded, and it’s getting late…

“You had better not try to untie this bow,” Honey threatens, sounding absolutely aghast. She clutches at the bow, covering the ties completely so that Trevor can’t even grab them. She inches away from him. 

“I wasn’t!” Trevor denies. He’s not very convincing.

“Oh, you’re so–” Honey cuts herself off, shaking her head. 

“I’m so what?” Trevor asks.

Honey, still covering the bow between her lovely tits, uses her free hand to crawl over the center console and into the back seat. “I have to get away from you,” she says. 

“What?” Trevor grabs her ankle. “You can’t get away from me at a time like this,” he says, using his other hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. He goes to follow Honey. “You’re injured!”

Honey collapses on the back seat, pulling her legs back and dragging Trevor along. She laughs as he stumbles a little and kneels half-on the seat and half-on the ground. His hand is still attached to her ankle, spreading her thighs.

They seem to realize the position they’re in at the same time. Honey’s jaw drops and Trevor just smiles. He palms over her calves, then up to her thighs, pushing them even further apart. It’s like his three texts were three wishes from a genie, or three Herculean feats he has to overcome before getting Honey into his bed for the whole night. 

I want to eat you out, Trevor had said then. And now, his wish is coming true.

Honey’s pants are in the way. Trevor’s too respectful to just rip them, so he just rubs over her clothed center with his thumb. He bites his lip. 

“Make you feel better?” Trevor jokes feebly, not sure what line will work on Honey. It might be too cheesy. 

It is.

Honey scoffs. “More like make it up to me,” she declares, shuffling around and pushing her waistband over her hips. Trevor takes over from there, getting his hands on her ass and helping her out. “Seem to remember that you didn’t make me come the other day.”

“Oh, are you ready to beg?” Trevor asks, perking up. He stops his movements, her lower half just short of exposed. 

She wasn’t expecting him to one-up her, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t beg for the things that I’ve earned.”

“Earned?” Trevor scoffs. He pulls away, securing her waistband above her hips and covering her. “Baby, you didn’t even try.” 

Now, it’s a game of wills. 

“I’ll remind you how to follow the rules,” Trevor adds. He finally brings the joint, which he steals from Honey, to his mouth, crawling up her body as he inhales. He sits back, spreading his legs a bit, and pats his thigh. With his other hand, he takes the blunt from his lips and exhales. “Come gimme a kiss,” he invites, tapping the corner of his mouth. 

“Don’t piss me off,” Honey replies like a warning. Still, despite the disapproving tilt of her mouth, she makes her way over to Trevor and crawls between his legs. 

Instead of sitting on his lap, she just sits in a little ball, knees pressed against her chest between his legs. Her back is against his front and she plucks the joint from his fingers, placing it between her lips. He has to shift on the seat, moving so they’re sitting along the row instead of facing forward. Trevor’s legs are outstretched toward the opposing window, through which he can see a few tree trunks and then utter blackness.

“It’s kind of freaky, how alone we are out here,” Trevor ponders. 

Honey crinkles her nose. “Sounds like something a serial killer would say.” She leans her head back on Trevor’s collarbone, blowing the smoke in the air like she did in the basement. It drifts right into Trevor’s space and he turns his head to avoid it. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Trevor says. “I don’t mind.”

Honey doesn’t reply to that. She scoffs a little and rolls her eyes, taking another hit of the joint. It’s a small one– probably the smallest one Honey rolled, but it’s plenty for them to share. 

“I’m serious, though. It gets so dark up here. I’m still not used to it,” Trevor continues. 

“You never get used to it,” Honey says. “But it’s nice, I think.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agrees. He bundles her up in his arms and presses a kiss to her temple. 

She breathes in again. On her exhale, she speaks. Her voice has grown quieter, more thoughtful. “When I came up here as a kid, all I ever wanted was someone to play with,” she says. “But I like the silence and darkness up here, now. Sometimes I feel like nothing that happens here is real. It doesn’t count.”

Trevor gets what she’s saying. Litchton is like a bubble– the only things that exist in the bubble are the things that are actually here. Everything else is other-worldly. They train all the time, but sometimes even hockey doesn’t feel real to Trevor. The realest thing he has in Litchton is the girl in his arms. 

“Is that why you came here?” Trevor asks. “After everything that happened?”

Honey shrugs, prodding Trevor’s hand with the blunt until he takes it back. “I just needed to get away.”

Trevor hums as he inhales. 

Honey continues. “I’ve been thinking about that year a lot more often than normal, lately.”

“Oh, you have?”

“Mhm. I was talking with Bea after I told you everything, you know, and it was just, like, a weird realization. I think about then and I think about now and I think I’m so different. I’m not, really, but I changed fundamentally that year.”

“How could you not?” Trevor asks. “It sounded like it was really hard.”

“It wasn’t just that, though,” Honey says. She’s a little louder now, a little more angry. She struggles to find her words. “It’s like– I look back at the person I was then and I know it’s me, and I know it all happened to me, but none of it feels real because that version of me doesn’t exist anymore. I got rid of her when I came here. She wasn’t– necessary.” Honey laughs to herself, burying her face in her hands. “God, I sound like a crazy person. Forget I said any of that.”

The only way Trevor will ever forget what Honey said is if this weed knocks him on his ass tomorrow morning. He agrees, not wanting to start a fight, but how could he forget this? That Honey feels like she left herself behind when she moved to Litchton, and that all of her past seems fabricated?

“I can feel you still thinking about it,” Honey interrupts, turning her head so her nose nudges Trevor’s neck. “Guess neither of us are good at following rules.”

Trevor takes another hit from the blunt before passing it back to Honey. “Guess not,” he murmurs. He wonders if she can feel his heartbeat. He’s, all of a sudden, very aware of his racing heart against Honey’s back, and he blames the high. He should really be done for the day. Honey’s presence is making him stiff and warm and the weed is making him tired and lazy. The combination is not ideal.

“How many have I missed?” Honey asks, twisting the joint between her fingers.

“Hm?” Trevor answers. She pulled him from his thoughts, so he barely heard what she said.

Honey chuckles quietly. “How many times did you take a hit,” Honey clarifies. She brings the joint to her lips and breathes in. “Need to know how many kisses I owe you,” she continues on her exhale.

Trevor perks up. “A million,” he quips. 

“Mm, wow,” Honey reacts sarcastically. She inspects the roll between her fingers, growing smaller by the second. “The never-ending joint. I didn’t know they made those.”

“Willy Wonka is opening a dispensary. Candy sales are going down and weed is a growing industry,” Trevor jokes. “He’s got the Oompa-Loompas in the greenhouse pruning the marijuana trees.”

Honey laughs, a loud one pulled from her chest. Trevor watches as her eyes squint shut and her throat moves with the sound. He brings a hand up to trace the line of her neck, just to feel her move. He doesn’t miss the shift of her breath when he makes contact, icy fingers skimming across warm skin. 

Trevor looks at Honey when her breath hitches, tearing his eyes away from his fingers contrasting her neck, really looks at her. He likes the way she blinks up at him with his hand here. He likes that she stopped everything to look up at him with wide, awe-inspired eyes. At least, that’s what he thinks he’s seeing. Maybe he just really likes when his hand is on Honey’s neck.

He leans down to kiss her slightly, using his touch to pull her up the rest of the way. She sighs into his mouth, practically breathing into his lungs. The movement isn’t enough. Trevor needs to hear her say that she likes this. He’s so close to hearing her beg. He pulls away, breaking the moment.

Honey frowns.

Trevor takes his hand away, albeit a little reluctantly. It falls to her shoulder before settling in her lap, right next to her hand. He touches her knuckle, on the burn. 

“Your hand okay?” He queries softly.

Honey frowns even more deeply. “My hand’s fine.”

“I feel bad that you burned yourself,” Trevor says.

“Nine hundred, ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine more kisses to go,” Honey implores impatiently.

It takes a minute for the number to comprehend in Trevor’s mind. He has to think over it five times before he is sure that he’s interpreting it right. One less than a million, he finally thinks. Got it.

Trevor laughs and pecks her mouth, quick as can be. He waits.

After a minute, Honey’s indignance increases. “999,998 more kisses to go,” she says. 

The number is a lot easier to comprehend the second time around. Trevor plops another kiss on her mouth. 

The more she pouts, the more he smiles. It’s an infinite loop that only breaks once Honey squirms in Trevor’s arms, twisting to face him. They lost the blunt in all of this. Trevor hopes Honey snuffed it out someplace. That would be bad if she didn’t. But she’s smart, so she probably did.

“I think we should go in the house,” Honey whispers conspiratorially. She leans to kiss Trevor, a little softer than the past few. It’s a ghost of her lips, really.

“999,997,” Trevor replies, pulling her down by the hem of her shirt. He steals another kiss before letting her pull away.

Honey makes herself all pretty in front of him– barely changing a thing, just looking at him through her lashes.

“What’s that look?” Trevor asks with a laugh, smearing his hand across her cheek to break her focus.

“Wanna go inside?” Honey invites, tilting her head. It’s a thinly veiled request.

It’s close enough to a plead, for now. Trevor nods, taking another kiss from the girl before she goes to the door on her side of the car. He has to roll a bit to exit on his side, rushing to get back to his spot near Honey. 

She grabs her keys and phone, leaving everything else in the car. Trevor’s keys are in his pocket, probably, just in case the boys locked the door. Trevor doubts that they did– they’re probably still downstairs, watching some movie that they happened upon on cable. Maybe Family Feud. Cole has been loving Family Feud lately.

They make it back in the house easily, tiptoeing a bit over the creaky wooden steps and floorboards. Honey holds Trevor’s hand.

He has her on the bed in moments, his lips on hers. Trevor lays her head across his pillows, hovering above her. He wants her spread out below him, falling apart because of him.

“Can I?” Trevor asks, touching the string of her bow, twisting the end between his pinched fingers but never pulling.

Honey nods, arching her back so her chest presses into his touch. She’s kissing him again. 

He tugs until her shirt is falling open. Her sternum appears, plus the curves along her breast, and Trevor jumps forward to mark the unblemished skin. 

Her fingers find his hair and guide him. He pushes the fabric out of his way, feeling for her jewelry. His fumbling fingertips find it and rest, lightly pinching the skin.

Honey moans softly, grinding against his bulge, pressed right against her spread legs. Even with the clothes, he knows that she can feel him… and that she likes it. He doesn’t need to be cocky, but where’s the fun in that?

“Let me get my mouth on you,” Trevor says, letting his kisses fall lower and lower.

“Your mouth– is on me,” Honey sasses, breath hitching weakly in the middle of her sentence. 

Trevor pauses and bites his lip to stop a laugh from escaping him. She’s really making him work for this. He rephrases. “Let me get my tongue in you.” He continues his path, kissing down Honey’s stomach. 

Honey’s hips jump when his lips find her abdomen. He kisses as close as he can near the waistband of her bottoms, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric. 

“Okay,” Honey breathes. She’s trembling a bit, trying to keep her hips still. Trevor can feel the effort. 

He smooths his hands over her skin, then under the fabric of her panties. He lets his palm find her tramp stamp before he pulls her clothing off to reveal her lower half. 

He can’t bear to wait any longer, but if he had more resolve, he’d kiss every inch of her again before finding her cunt. As much as Trevor wants to give her that reverence, he also wants to give her an orgasm.

He fits his mouth over her clit, licking over her bundle of nerves slowly. His index finger traces between her lips, spreading her folds and finding her entrance. This, Trevor takes his time with. He wants to taste her forever. He wants to touch her forever. If he could relive this moment over and over for the rest of time, he would. 

He pushes his finger inside, burying himself in the tight squeeze of her walls. He blinks like he’s in a dream, long and slow, not sure whether it’s worse to look away from her or lean into the drowsiness of the moment. He feels drugged on Honey, not just off the weed they smoked.

His middle finger prods at Honey, slipping into her cunt with a slight stretch. She reacts to it, but only seeks more. Trevor would give her everything. That’s why his tongue leaves her clit to fulfill his original goal– to get inside of her. She moans when he does and Trevor nearly combusts on the spot. 

Trevor laps at her wetness, fingers buried into her warm cunt almost lazily. He's pumping them in and out of her like it's nothing, like it's the natural instinct only-thing-he-can-do on an atomic level. Everything is amplified and red and pulsing because of the weed he consumed two hours prior and her warm, warm, and wet skin surrounding his fingers. 

He pauses to bite his lip, feeling the glue of his permanent retainer scrape against his chapped skin. Then, he returns to Honey's clit, flicking it with the flat of his tongue, mouth closing over her and worshiping her. His fingers beckon her forward, towards him, and she moves beneath him.

She rolls her hips with the press of his fingertips to her insides, a stuttered little gasp breaking her whine. 

Trevor's eyes flutter open and hazily, all clouded with lust, he finds her face. Her eyes are locked on his and her mouth is open. Her chest is heaving, smooth skin rising and falling in Trevor's view. The bars through her nipples catch the pale light from his lamplight in the corner of the room, glinting across his vision. 

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor says.

Honey blinks at him, but pulls at the fabric anyway. It’s a hassle, but she removes the top. She’s wearing nothing, completely naked in front of him. Trevor realizes he’s wearing all of his clothes and decides he has to remedy that immediately. 

He pulls back enough to shuffle his arm through the hole in his t-shirt. He can still kitten-lick over her clit, at least until his fingers are free again. He’s never able to part from her completely. It would just be cruel to derive her of his pleasure, if she’s feeling the same thing Trevor is feeling.

His fingers are inside her again and he uses the other hand to pull his shirt off and struggle with his sweatpants. Once his shirt is gone, he seals his lips over her clit again and sucks until she’s whining and lifting her hips off the bed. Her jewelry glints again.

"Touch your tits," Trevor mumbles, barely lifting his head from between her legs.

"What?" Honey asks, just barely audible to Trevor over the sound of her fingers running through his hair, clenching down behind his ear to lead his tongue across her clit again. 

Trevor groans, not wanting to part with her skin. "Touch your tits," he directs louder, diving back to gather the liquid that drips between his fingers with his tongue. It settles on his tongue and he hums, eyes closing. His eyes open again, lids heavier than before.

Honey's listening so intently, but the words aren't registering. She's too caught up in the feeling of Trevor's mouth against her, eager to please her. He's glad to know he's not the only one who is losing himself in the moment, feeling like no time is passing at all despite every second feeling so long.

Trevor's happy to help her out. He’s managed to get his pants down to his knees, along with his boxers now. He’s got an occupied hand. 

With his free hand, he reaches up from her thigh and feels out her body. He traces the curves of her hips and stomach to her waist and chest, slowing down as he nears her peaks. Carefully, even removing his mouth from her clit to make sure he isn’t distracted, Trevor sweeps a thumb over her pierced nipple. 

She springs to action, feeling it immediately. His pinch has her squeaking, both hands in his hair as she drags him up to her mouth.

He comes willingly, smiling until her mouth clashes against his. He's laughing a little bit at the ferocity, his fingers dancing inside her merrily, making the kiss all the more messy when Honey groans. Then she clenches down when his hand meets her other nipple. It's a vicious cycle, one that quickens when Honey starts grinding her hips. Trevor slows his movements and lets her sweat a little, working herself up with furious twitches of her hips.

"Trevor," Honey pouts, pulling him out of his trance. She insistently rolls her hips again, her bottom lip jetting out as she looks up at him.

Trevor pulls back, eyes widening a little as he comes back to himself. Honey's face clears in his sight like he's fixing a telescope. Her eyes are starry like the sky, too.

He's trying to identify the look on her face, blinking blankly. 

Her eyelashes are so dark, he realizes. She must have put on mascara today.

"Trevor," Honey whines again, her hips circling. 

He notices his fingers have stilled inside her and that she's whining at the loss.

Like she's begging for him.

She confirms it with one word. A beautiful, whispered “Please.”

Trevor's fingers are out and the tip of his cock is in without hesitation. His lips slide against hers as she breathes in and he breathes out. He presses further, fingers splayed across her back to pull her up, chest against chest.

They're touching everywhere and Trevor can do nothing but hope and pray that she's feeling the same way he is right now. Bea's church trips might actually be rubbing off on him.

There's no other way to describe it: Trevor must have earned a miracle, somehow. He only ever feels like he fits in the world when he's playing hockey and that pales in comparison to being inside Honey, to feeling her come while wrapped in his arms. 

Nothing has ever felt so right in his life. Something changes in Trevor in that instant– everything aligns. It’s like what Honey said before– about leaving her old self behind when she came to Litchton. Trevor understands now because he feels the same way. Now that he’s been here– now that he’s been with her, he knows he can never be without her again.

44:90 – HONEY

She wakes up with Trevor leaking out of her. He's still pressed against her, like the night before, but this time he's plastered against her back rather than pulling her up to his chest. He's still pulling. It's her hips this time, back so that his morning wood can slide between her dripping lips.

It's nice for a minute as her drowsy sleep wears off, the last remnants of her high trickling away like fairy dust into the night. She feels quite floaty with it, but allows the last wisp of her high to go on without her.

Her eyes register the light and she flinches, overcome with energy. She frantically finds the old alarm clock on Trevor's bedside table, the numbers flashing in the corner with each second. It's early, early enough for the sun to be a sliver on the horizon and a thought in a baker's head, but later than Honey intended to stay. She has to get out of here.

She goes to move, but Trevor's arm keeps her in place. He tilts his hips forward. “Baby,” he breathes in his slumber, like a dream. His nose nudges her ear. She melts back against him, then catches herself. She has to get out of this house before Quinn gets up to take a shower. 

Honey wakes Trevor when she escapes his grasp, leaving him to blink up sleepily as she gathers up her clothes: a shirt, bottoms and her underwear from the night before. She scrambles to get them on, sparing a glance at the dimly smiling Trevor, who is stretching under the covers. 

He's admiring her so intently, a daft and tiny smile on his face that distracts Honey and makes her shiver. He's always so– pleased. It's the moments like these that make Honey wonder if she's getting sucked too far into his world. She keeps chasing these looks like a drug, addicted to her next hit.

“I'll see you on Friday,” she whispers to him, bending down to smooth his hair out of his face. She’s pretty busy until then, with work and such. Today, she’s meant to go out with Quinn. 

Trevor tilts his head up and his nose pokes the corner of her lip. She catches his jaw in her hands and fixes his face so his lips are poised in front of her. She pecks his pursed, chapped bottom lip and pulls away so quick that it leaves him frowning.

He's thinking, hard, even as her touch leaves him and she tiptoes to the door. “Friday?” He asks. “That's not enough to tide me over until Friday,” he complains, pulling Honey's pillow down to hug against his chest. He presses the corner of the pillow to his lips, smiling at her when she sighs.

Honey comes back and kisses him once more, with tongue, just to leave him stupid enough to stay quiet until she's gone.

At least she's not covered in marks this time, since she's meeting Quinn in a few hours to shop for Bea's birthday gift. She doesn’t have to pull out her sleeveless turtleneck again. Realistically, she can go open The Reading Nook in this outfit and work until Bea appears. It’s then that she’ll switch places with the girl and plant herself in the passenger seat of Quinn’s car.

Honey decides to drive straight to the Nook. She and Bea stashed a box in one of the cabinets years ago with deodorant and toothpaste and the other essentials for life as a girl. 

Ada made fun of them, but once she got a paper cut and didn’t have a band-aid in her purse, so she dipped into their stash. The tables turned then– Honey and Bea gained the upper hand. They gifted Ada her own box the following week, smirking like they were acting smart. She nearly sent them running with her disapproving eye roll, but she thanked them afterward.

Honey unlocks the door and scoops up the magazine from the stoop. She nods and smiles at a man jogging by. He returns the look. The sun is nearly risen now and everything is pink. The brick wall of the Nook seems to glow. She locks the door behind her again.

The Nook has gathered more dust since they took such a long weekend. It takes Honey a little while longer than it normally does to sweep and dust the shelves. She opens the store as quickly as she can– but she still doesn’t have enough time to herself before the Founding Women come knocking.

Three minutes is all she has to brush her teeth, her hair, and throw on some deodorant. Honey rushes to do so, multitasking as best she can. With one hand, she’s brushing her teeth and with the other, she’s scrambling to find the handheld mirror that Bea set in the bin after checking her teeth for seeds the other day. 

“Damn it, where are you,” Honey asks aloud, as if the mirror can reply. 

Her hand brushes the handle and she pulls it out, catching the glare of the light and blinding herself for a second. She blinks to clear her vision, shaking her head a bit. She finally looks in the mirror, bracing herself for the likely appalling state of her hair. 

Oh. Okay. It’s not that bad.

She puts the mirror down and finishes brushing her teeth, spitting the toothpaste and applying deodorant before picking up the mirror again. She fluffs the hair on the back of her head, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips at her own reflection. Her eyes go lower, to inspect her neck and make sure Trevor didn’t leave anything behind that she couldn’t see before in the dark. 

It’s then that she regrets driving straight to her place of work. In her fervor this morning to escape the rental house before Quinn woke up, Honey didn’t grab the right clothes. She grabbed her underwear and her favorite athletic skirt, but the shirt she threw on was not hers. It’s the second time she’s worn Trevor’s shirt after hooking up with him and Honey is starting to wonder if she’s accidentally-doing-it-on-purpose. 

It’s a plain white t-shirt, pretty much. There’s a logo on the front breastbone of a platypus-looking duck mask in the center of an upside-down triangle. Honey squints at it in the mirror, then looks down at her chest with her own two eyes. The shirt is big, sure, and she had absentmindedly tucked the back of it into the waistband of her shorts while she was dusting, so she should’ve known it wasn’t hers. She showed up to Trevor’s place yesterday in a shirt that ties in the front. Yes, that was on purpose.

This mishap was not. Now she’s having to scramble to make the shirt look natural and hers before Sacha comes knocking at the door. 

Honey uses the mirror to tuck and untuck the back of the top into something a person might see an influencer wearing at the gym. She doesn’t like the style, but it’s necessary. She can’t look as out of place as she feels, wearing Trevor’s clothing. People will really start to suspect something. She knows the ladies suspect– but she can’t have it getting out.

Honey frowns and whines at herself in the mirror, tossing her head back on her shoulders and feeling her face crumble. She places the mirror down and covers her face with both hands. 

She’s so stupid. This is exactly what Honey sought to avoid after Thomas. She knows herself. She knows that she gets caught up in what’s happening and she starts to neglect the other parts of her life. She came to Litchton to be independent and put-together, not like the child that sent her naked pictures out just for it to come back and bite her in the butt. Wearing Trevor’s shirt is not the same as that, but Honey can’t believe that she made this mistake. One mistake like this just leads to more, which leads to a snowball effect, which ends in Honey moving towns and starting over. She’s done this before and she refuses to do it again.

Honey is stuck in her head as she lets Sacha and Gillian in, mumbling some incoherent response and giving the half-hearted kisses on the cheek when they enter The Reading Nook. As Vera, Scarlett, and Rosalind make their way into the Nook, she greets them the same way. Then, she hides behind the cash register, reading her book. She’s still reading that romance book. 

Twenty minutes of flustered page-flipping and fake reading later, Bea walks in the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Honey sighs, hopping down from her stool and stashing her book underneath the counter. 

“Is that–” Bea starts, having barely let the door shut behind her.

“Don’t,” Honey interrupts, pointing a finger in Bea’s face as she passes her. She wrenches open the door, despising the cheerful, twinkling bell that she installed years ago. She stomps to Quinn’s car, throwing open the passenger door and climbing in. She slams the door behind her.

“Good morning, Honey,” Quinn greets quietly, his voice gruff like he’s still fighting off sleep. Honey doesn’t reply– he doesn’t need it, and she’s still feeling weird. He peels away from the curb, heading back down the mountain. They pass the rental house and Honey’s pulse spikes when they do.

She feels abnormally sick as they drive down the mountain, still stuck on the fact that she’s wearing Trevor’s shirt. Now, she’s worried about how it looks to be wearing Trevor’s shirt in front of Quinn, in public. 

It’s one thing in the comfort of her own home. That’s why she didn’t freak out last time she accidentally stole Trevor’s shirt– or, at least, not verbally. She barely spoke the whole time Trevor was there, humming occasionally to answer his questions and reading a sentence aloud of her book when he asked. He didn’t notice her discomfort. He doesn’t know that she took his shirt off as soon as he closed the front door behind him, shoving it deep in the back of her closet and hoping to forget about the incident entirely. 

Trevor also doesn’t know that she’s slept in his shirt twice since then. It’s supposed to be some form of exposure therapy, but Honey just feels icky each morning after.

And now, she doesn’t even have a change of clothes. At home, she can rip off his shirt and replace it with her own, but here? In the Nook? In Quinn’s car? There’s nothing. Honey just has to face it. It’s not going well.

She’s gone silent and she doesn’t think Quinn minds, but the silence is starting to suffocate her.

“Where are we going?” Honey asks, clearing her throat. There’s a lump in her throat that won’t disappear. 

“The mall in Charlotte,” Quinn replies.

“Charlotte,” Honey repeats, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. “Why Charlotte?”

“Because the store I googled was there,” Quinn says curtly. 

“I told you that there’s a store she’d like in Winston,” Honey says.

“I found something I thought she’d like,” Quinn says. 

“Then why am I here?” Honey snaps.

Quinn looks over at Honey, a perturbed side-eye that has her glowering. He raises his eyebrows, then faces the street again. “We can go to Winston. We’re not even on the highway yet. We have time.”

“Well, good, because we’re going to Winston,” Honey says in a huff. She crosses her arms over her chest and sits back in the passenger seat. It’s obvious that Bea sat there last because the seat is practically laying back. She must have tried to sleep on the short car ride over. How futile.

Quinn scoffs and laughs a bit, rolling his eyes. Honey takes the consolation, but she doesn’t like being laughed at. 

She cranks up the radio as loud as she can stand and rolls her window down. She lets the wind whip at her hair until it’s tangled, and gross, and she has to tie it up. Then, she rolls up her window and lays back in the seat, throwing her hands over her eyes.

Quinn is perfectly content to sit in silence during the drive to Winston-Salem. He sings along softly with the radio, just enough that Honey can hear him. At first, she wonders if he’s singing at all and if she’s just hearing the backup singers and harmonies like they’re 3D, but then she looks over and sees his lips moving and his thumbs tapping the wheel. 

He looks handsome. In this light, laying down in his passenger seat, Honey wishes life was as easy for her as it is for Bea. She knows that Bea has her own problems and her own sorrows, but Honey wishes that her life could be so simple. Bea was never traumatized by an evil ex and never had her nudes leaked. She’s able to wear Quinn’s clothes without overthinking it. Better yet, she’s able to have sex with anyone she wants, including her boyfriend’s brother. 

Honey realizes, in that moment, that she detests Bea. It’s not a permanent hatred. She’s just so jealous. Trevor would never take Bea out to go shopping for Honey’s birthday, and yet, here she is, wearing his shirt.

Honey breaks, tugging at the hem of the too-big shirt. 

“Can we stop somewhere and get me a new shirt while we’re out?” Honey asks.

Quinn draws his eyebrows together before he looks over. “Why?” He takes his eyes off the road for just a second to inspect Honey’s shirt. “Is it stained or something?” 

As soon as he looks away, he does a double-take, and Honey wishes she had never brought it up.

“Are you wearing–”

“Don’t,” Honey growls.

“Trevor’s shirt?” Quinn finishes, smirking evilly. “So I guess your relationship isn’t all that secret.”

“I’m not wearing it on purpose,” Honey hisses. “I accidentally grabbed it this morning.”

“This morning?” Quinn asks, a crooked smile overtaking his face. “Where were you this morning?”

Honey snarls in his direction, grinding her teeth. 

“I thought you were inviting your, uh, dating app guy over to your place. Don’t you have clothes at your place?” Quinn teases.

He means well, is the thing. Honey knows that he’s just joking with her like he would with any of his friends, but he doesn’t know that she’s seeing red.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Honey tells him resolutely. 

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says easily. Honey doesn’t believe that he’ll let it go, just based on the quirk of his lips as he continues to drive. 

Honey’s lucky because they’re only a few minutes outside of Winston now and Quinn can hold his tongue for a few minutes. Soon enough, they’ll be surrounded by jewelry and he’ll be so confused that he has to let it go, unless he doesn’t want Honey to help him.

When they pull into the parking lot and Honey lets herself out of the vehicle, Trevor’s shirt falls even more loosely around her. Or, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s just Quinn’s laughter that makes her feel like she’s drowning in the fabric. Even Trevor’s scent around her isn’t comforting. It’s just making her feel worse, reminding her that this shirt is not hers and it does not belong on her body.

Honey tugs at the hem of the shirt almost constantly, untucking it and retucking it until she understands how foolish she must look. She stands more stiffly as Quinn talks to the sales associate, describing what he would like to buy. There’s a moment when the associate asks if the bracelet is for Honey, which leaves them both denying her in earnest. 

“Her shirt might be my size, but it’s not mine,” Quinn says, which throws Honey back into her silence and makes her frown. It’s not what he said, because that’s completely true, but it’s the disdain in his voice when she says it.

His words are an answer to the question that she rarely ever lets her ask herself. Honey is not desirable. Trevor is a fluke. Ordinarily, Honey would remind herself that Trevor’s leaving in six weeks anyway, so it doesn’t matter. 

Today, for some fucked up reason, Trevor’s opinion matters a lot to Honey. She’d be positively shattered if he’s only fucking her because he can. When he leaves at the end of the summer, he’ll probably move on and start fucking other girls, and he’ll completely forget about Honey and Litchton altogether.

Honey can’t let that happen. She can’t let herself fall apart for a second time over another fucking boy. She and Trevor are just hooking up– and if she can’t get that through her head, then it’ll have to stop. She’ll just have to stop seeing him before he stops seeing her.

Yeah, that’ll work. 

Honey is satisfied with the decision. She’ll stop seeing Trevor. She’ll get home, take this shirt off, and deliver it back to him later this week, along with the other one that she accidentally stole. It’ll be like when you give another child a gift at a birthday party, just so that they don’t feel left out. 

She feels better for a little while. She’s able to shop around with Quinn, looking at the bracelets he likes and telling him which ones Bea would certainly not like. She even identifies the ones that Bea would like… but wouldn’t wear.

Eventually, they settle on a tiny gold bracelet decorated with five equidistant pink heart-shaped charms. It’s more expensive than anything Honey has ever bought for Bea, but hey, she’s not Bea’s suitor. Nor is she a rich man, and Quinn is a premier athlete. He’s sitting on some big bucks and Honey knows it.

She ignores every time Quinn makes a comment about the shirt, which he does each chance he gets. He mentions it in the store, while they shop around, as Honey models bracelets to see how they would fit on Bea, when they get in the car, and even while he drives them back towards Litchton and towards Trevor, who is the source of all of Honey’s anxiety at the moment.

She knows that Quinn is just teasing. She knows that he’s poking fun at her the way an older brother would. She knows that it isn’t meant to hurt her feelings and that he doesn’t know that she’s freaking out, completely surrounded in her mind by evil doubts and nagging, gremlin-like voices.

She can’t hear it any longer. Honey physically cannot bear to hear another quip from Quinn about her borrowed t-shirt. She cannot hear another mention of Trevor’s name. It only makes her feel worse, reminding her that she has decided to end this for her own good. The look on Trevor’s face when she tells him that it has to be over– oh, Honey might be sick. Honey might be sick if Quinn keeps talking, too.

After a final mumbled, snorted comment from Quinn, Honey slams her fist down on the arm rest and lifts her eyes to the ceiling of his car. Her eyes are stinging and it takes everything in Honey not to burst into tears right there. 

“God, Quinn, would you quit it with the comments?” She demands. 

Her throat is tight and she has to talk through her teeth to keep herself from chattering. She hugs herself, rubbing over the goosebumps on her triceps. She has to reach under Trevor’s sleeve to get to her skin– that’s how big and wrong his shirt feels on her body. The fabric is too long and too baggy and the part that she tucked into her skirt is digging into the small of her back. Honey brings her thumb up to her mouth and bites the pad of the digit, pinching her skin together. She stares stubbornly out the window, glaring at the trees along the highway. She sees Quinn look at her in her reflection and Honey avoids eye contact, biting her skin even harder. It’s stopping her lip from wobbling. She couldn’t bear to cry in front of Quinn, but today has just been– really, really hard for her.

First, she woke up wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, she had to be seen in public wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, Quinn teased her for wearing Trevor’s clothes. Now, the shirt is digging into her back and she’s about to cry because she really, really doesn’t want to give it back. She really, really doesn’t want her relationships to be so hard, but she can’t stop herself. She’s still not patched back up from Thomas and that’s why she can’t be with Trevor. She wants so badly to be with Trevor the way that Bea is with Quinn, but she just can’t. 

Quinn stays silent for a few minutes. Honey hears the song on the radio change twice. 

The silence becomes too uncomfortable for her after Quinn checks in on her a second time, this time taking a hand off the steering wheel like he meant to touch her and comfort her. He lets it drop to the gearshift when he thinks better of touching her.

“And it smells in here,” Honey complains, voicing up about the thought that’s been running through her head since she got in the car outside of The Reading Nook this morning. She’s grumbling by the end of her sentiment. “I thought Trevor’s car was the equipment car.”

“Always thinking about Trevor, huh,” Quinn says quietly.

“Stop,” Honey says.

“Okay.” Quinn shrugs.

Silence.

Quinn looks her way again, less than thirty seconds later. “No. Not okay,” he decides. “What’s wrong with you? What did he do that has you so upset?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Honey mumbles, still facing the window.

“Honey, come on,” Quinn scoffs. “What’s the deal? You’re wearing his shirt and you look more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen you. That’s not right.”

“Right,” Honey repeats. She finally turns to him, incredulous and fired up. He doesn’t know when to stop. He’s crossing all these lines and Honey can’t stand it. “What the fuck do you know about ‘right?’ Your girlfriend is fucking everyone else in that damn house.”

“You don’t know shit about our relationship,” Quinn replies, an edge in his voice. 

“And you don’t know shit about mine,” Honey snaps. She glares at him, grinding her teeth and fighting back a burning threat of tears at her waterline. 

“Well, fucking explain it to me,” Quinn snarls. “That’s why I asked in the first place.”

Honey is taken aback by his response. She hesitates. 

“Look, Bea won’t tell me anything about– what happened to you,” Quinn says, his tone disjointed and careful. “And I haven’t asked about it more than once, but I have to ask now. Why are you so– hesitant to like him? We can all tell that he likes you and you… feel something for him, but I can tell you’re not committing to this. Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” Honey deflects, voice hard.

“Honey.” 

Quinn’s voice is insistent. He pinches his lips together and tilts his head at her, imploring her with just a blink of his eyes.

“My last boyfriend sucked, okay?” Honey exclaims, turning to face the window again. She means to hide her tears, but her sniffle gives it away. She really should’ve considered that before she did it. “He sucked,” she says quieter. “And I really, really loved him. I really, really trusted him.”

Quinn stays quiet, letting Honey ruminate on her words.

“He–” Honey takes a sharp breath, shaking her head to herself. “He did everything he could to ruin my life.”

Honey can hear Quinn’s blinks and his consistent breath. He keeps taking deep inhales like he’s going to say something, then decides against it and lets the inhale go. 

“So I have trouble–” her voice breaks on the word, “–committing to Trevor. If that’s the word we’re using. Not that you know anything about commitment.”

“I’m committed,” Quinn replies, the first thing he’s said in minutes. He says it with a defensive edge. “I’m committed.”

The repetition rubs Honey the wrong way, just for a moment before Quinn interrupts the process of Honey forming a confused expression.

“So’s Trevor, by the way,” Quinn adds. “Don’t let his douchey texts fool you. He’s not ‘just fucking’ you. He’s just a moron that doesn’t know how to talk to a girl he really likes.”

“Trevor is leaving at the end of the summer,” Honey says carefully. “I can’t–” She shakes her head, cutting herself off. She takes a breath and picks right back up. “I can’t let myself get my hopes up. I’m not gonna– like some guy just to be left in the dirt again.”

“What is it with you guys and thinking we’d leave you?” Quinn asks, shaking his head like he’s in disbelief, eyes still on the road. The words come out of him in a rush and his subsequent sealed lips tell Honey everything she needs to know.

Honey pauses, mind seeming to clear for a split second. “You’ve talked about this with Bea,” she observes, feeling like her voice is far away. 

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose, then moves his hair off of his forehead. “Yeah,” he says.

“What did…? She’s…?” Honey isn’t sure which question is the right one, so she gives up on both.

Quinn forces a little smile onto his face. Honey’s body turns cold because she knows that face. He’s picked up Bea’s idiosyncracy, where she tries to deliver terrible news in a positive way so she doesn’t hurt the other person’s feelings. “She won’t leave Litchton until she knows you’re okay,” Quinn tells Honey. 

“I’m okay,” Honey says.

“You’re not.” Quinn’s smile tilts with laughter, making it much more real. “She knows you’re not.”

Honey falters. “I’m– being in a new relationship after that is hard,” she insists. “But I’m doing it. I’m fine.”

Quinn nods at Honey in concession. When his eyes turn back to meet hers, Honey knows that he doesn’t blame her for this. It’s not something he has to tell her, which comforts her slightly. It calms her. He’s not angry or upset with her. He doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong.

They fall silent for another few minutes.

“Whatever, um, he did to you,” Quinn says after a while, treading lightly with his words and clearing his throat when he’s not sure he’s saying the right thing. “It wasn’t– you didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault.”

Honey breathes out a weak laugh. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Quinn says, reaching over and taking her hand, squeezing it when he talks again. “You didn’t– that never should’ve happened to you.”

Honey blinks, touched by how genuine and sincere he sounds. He’s still holding her hand. She shakes him free. “I know,” she repeats, her voice feeling strange in her mouth. She can practically feel the words forming and falling off her tongue. They’re so– tangible. 

Silence, again. This one is swifter. It’s Quinn who breaks it. Evidently, he feels as though the moment has passed and he can start teasing her again.

“Imagine how things would be if you weren’t all fucked up,” he says with a shit-eating smile.

Honey’s jaw drops and she starts to laugh, so thrown off by how blatant his statement is.

Quinn raises his pitch and speaks in a high voice, mocking Trevor. “‘Wanna eat u out baby’ and you would’ve let him! You would’ve run up those stairs with him in an instant!”

“Shut up!” Honey faux-gasps, reaching across the console to swat Quinn’s arm. “I would not have!”

“No, you’re right, you would’ve gone in the fucking closet!” Quinn shouts, pointing a finger in Honey’s direction. With his other hand, he clicks the turn signal on and takes the exit. Honey didn’t realize they’d been talking for so long. They’re almost home. “Don’t think I don’t know that you blew him in there!”

“I would never!” Honey shrieks, covering her mouth with her palm and squeezing her eyes shut from her laughter. Of course Bea told him about that.

Now that they’re laughing like real friends, Honey can’t stop. She also can’t bring herself to care that Quinn is teasing her. Now, she’s in on the joke. It’s– freeing.

“With the look on that fucker’s face?” Quinn tosses his thumb to the side like he’s pointing to an invisible Trevor. “It’s a miracle the other boys don’t know.”

Honey is able to reign in her giggles. “Thank you,” she says. “For not telling them, by the way. I don’t think Trevor or I have said that to you.”

Quinn’s laughter trails off, too. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs sincerely. The side of his lips tug up briefly before falling back into a serious line. He makes eye contact with Honey at the final light before home, ready to turn onto the main road that will carry them up the mountain. “I’m… happy for you guys.”

Honey smiles back, feeling her chest well up a little bit by how sweet he is. He deserves Bea, Honey thinks. She can’t think of anyone more deserving of her best friend. Quinn is special. Honey gets it. “I’m happy for you,” she replies. “You look really happy.”

Quinn blushes a bit, his gaze turning sheepish. He nods, a pout fighting and failing to obscure his smile. “She makes me happy.”

Honey nods. They don’t talk the rest of the way home.

45:90 – TREVOR

“I need you to go buy some stuff.”

Trevor looks up from his breakfast sandwich, still chewing his most recent bite. “What?” He asks, not sure if he heard Quinn correctly. 

“I need you to go buy some stuff,” Quinn repeats. He produces a handwritten list from his pocket, tossing the crumpled paper at Trevor.

“Why?” Trevor asks. 

“Because you can either go buy the supplies or you can decorate for the party,” Quinn says. “And I don’t think you want to decorate for the party.”

“What party?” Trevor takes another bite of his sandwich. This bite has an especially good amount of cheese in it. He hums in contentment.

Quinn furrows his eyebrows at Trevor. “Bea’s birthday party?” He reveals like it’s obvious.

“It’s Bea’s birthday?”

Quinn takes another pregnant pause before replying. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Trevor hums, taking another bite. “Cool.”

“Not today,” Quinn corrects. “Sunday. But the party is Friday.”

“Okay, well, it’s Wednesday. Why do I need to go shopping today?” Trevor asks.

Quinn scoffs and shakes his head. “Because I asked you to?”

Trevor makes a face. That’s not a good reason. He doesn’t want to buy anything for Bea’s party. He didn’t agree to throw a party for her. “Why do we have to throw?” Trevor questions. “She’s over here all the time anyway. Why do we have to decorate?”

Quinn clenches his jaw. “Because,” he explains through gritted teeth. “I want it to be special.”

Trevor looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. “Okay.” He returns to his sandwich, ignoring Quinn, who is still standing across from him. Over a minute later, Quinn is still there. Trevor shoves the last bite in his mouth and dusts off his hands, chewing harshly before speaking again.

“What else?” He asks.

“You need to dig out a suit,” Quinn says.

“A suit?” Trevor demands. “Why?”

“It’s the theme,” Quinn explains.

Trevor blanches. “It’s just the seven of us. Why do we need a theme?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Quinn says, rolling his eyes. “I can play, too. Don’t you know that this will benefit you, too?”

“How?” Trevor asks.

“Trevor,” Quinn sighs, scrubbing his face with both of his hands. “It’s a black-tie event. Honey’s going to wear a tight, black dress. You are going to get to see her in this tight, black dress. She will wear high heels. She will do her makeup and her hair. You get to see her all done up.”

Oh.

Trevor can picture it now and he’s salivating. He’s already plotting all of the ways that he can take her dress off.

“So if you don’t mind,” Quinn continues. “I need you to go get the decorations and I need you to find your suit.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Trevor decides, still a little starry eyed at the idea of Honey in a pretty, fancy dress. “I’ll go grab the stuff before hockey later.” 

They’re going down to Charlotte for a late night practice at the arena, running with some of the Checkers’ players as a mid-summer treat for the members of the team that stayed in Charlotte for the summer. It should be fun– especially since they’re able to play a full-strength scrimmage for the first time all summer. Trevor’s been looking forward to it since last week.

“Thanks,” Quinn tells Trevor as the boy walks past him. His appreciation is dry, but it’s said with a quirk of a smile. “Hey, by the way.” He touches Trevor’s elbow as he passes. “Honey’s a little, well, concerned.”

Trevor stops in his tracks and furrows his brow. “What do you mean, she’s concerned? About what? When did you talk to her?”

“Yesterday. We went to Winston-Salem. She told me about her ex,” Quinn says. 

Thomas. Trevor’s face contorts. He feels disgusted every time he thinks of that guy. How could he take someone as perfect as Honey and make her feel so terrible that she left town? If he could get his hands on Thomas…

“She’s just nervous about it,” Quinn finishes, shrugging. “Being with you after all of that.”

“I know,” Trevor says, his lip curled. He doesn’t need Quinn to tell him all of this. He doesn’t need Quinn to explain Honey’s feelings to him. Quinn doesn’t even know her– not as well as Trevor does, at least. Honey already told him everything. They’re moving at her pace already. Trevor isn’t doing anything to pressure her, yet, here Quinn is, talking to Trevor like he’s scolding him. “I don’t need you to tell me anything about Honey. We’ve got it all figured out.”

Quinn laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“She cried in my car,” Quinn says. “She cried in my car, Trevor.”

Trevor swallows a comeback and sets his jaw. He stalks past Quinn and out the door, moving in lurching movements as he climbs into his car and drives off, towards town.

What do you mean she cried in your car? Trevor asks Quinn in his head. What did you say that made her cry? She was fine the other night. Things have been fine. There’s nothing for her to worry about.

While driving, Trevor calls Honey. She doesn’t pick up the first time, but he calls her again. And again. He has to ask her why she cried and why she’s worried. What won’t Honey tell him and why not?

She picks up on his fourth call. Before she can say hello, Trevor is talking. “Why did you cry in Quinn’s car yesterday?” He asks.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “Good morning, Trevor,” Bea says. “Honey’s not able to come to the phone at the moment.”

“Why not?” Trevor demands. “And why do you always have her fucking phone when I’m trying to reach her?”

“You mean when you’re trying to sext her?” Bea replies. “She just doesn’t have pockets, bud. She’s out in the store right now.”

“I’m coming over.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Bea says. 

Trevor laughs dryly. “Why not,” he asks, voice so despondent that the question presents as a statement.

“She’s…” Bea hums, trying to decide what to say. “She’s having a bad day, Trev. Quinn did what he could yesterday. Once she was alone again, she got back in her head. Don’t come to the store today. I’m trying to convince her not to break up with you.”

“Break up with me?” Trevor repeats, his jaw dropping. “No.” He outright refuses. She can’t break up with him.

“I know, okay?” Bea says, lowering her voice. “She went farther than she’s ready to, so she’s trying to overcorrect by backing off completely. I’m going to take care of it. I’m not going to let her break it off with you. I need you to, just, God, Trev– I have to go. Just don’t come to the store today. I’m handling it.”

Bea hangs up and leaves Trevor with more questions than he had before he called. 

Honey wants to break up with him? Does she consider them ‘together’ like… boyfriend-girlfriend? Not anymore, he guesses. He’ll stay away, even if he hates it. He’d like to be the one comforting her– not Bea or Quinn. He should be the one holding Honey and taking care of her, like that night that she first kissed him and he slept with her while she cried. Bea may think that she’s got things under control, but Honey was calm after Trevor slept in her bed. She was able to explain everything about Thomas without crying. She was soft and sweet and rational when she explained things to Trevor. He expects that she would act the same way if he could just talk to her.

Trevor’s at war with himself. He wants to go to the Nook, but he won’t. He won’t. He’ll listen to Bea because he wants Honey to be okay and Bea says she’s got it under control. Plus, he’d rather not get broken up with. If he sees Honey and she ends things, Trevor knows that she’ll commit herself to never seeing him again.

The idea of seeing Honey in the distance and having her turn away instead of smiling softly, like Trevor has grown used to, has his chest growing cold. He sags in his seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always sees Honey do. Trevor won’t go. He’ll stay away so that he can be by her side for the rest of their lives. As determined as Honey would be to stay away from Trevor if they broke up– Trevor’s more determined to keep her by his side. 

Trevor’s preoccupied as he shops for Quinn. He spends probably hundreds of dollars on liquor and food and decorations for Bea’s party. He’s a little bit more content to splurge for Bea now that she’s trying to save his relationship. A pretty party seems like an apt way to repay her for the trouble.

Trevor’s also still banking on seeing Honey in a pretty dress on Friday. The party needs to be perfect.

46:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes up in Bea’s bed, snuggled up with the girl because she’s hogging all the blankets. Her head is a little foggy after yesterday. She thought she was fine after talking to Quinn in the car, but that was just a mirage. Wearing Trevor’s shirt in public was big, a disaster even, after Bea rolled into The Reading Nook yesterday and said that Honey looked cute in her soft launch. 

It turns out, Quinn had been tagged in something on an Instagram story on Tuesday. When he looked at it, it was a picture of him and Honey in Winston, shopping for Bea. The picture was harmless, but the speculation was not– and Honey didn’t like being back on social media without her permission. It made her think of– well. It made her think of her very short stint on that porn website.

It was really hard for her to breathe after seeing the picture. Quinn reported it and had it taken down after he had seen it, but he had taken a screenshot so that he could show Bea and they could laugh about it. Bea hadn’t expected for Honey to be so effected by the picture, considering you can’t even see her face, which is why she had brought it up. Honey feels a little guilty– Bea had wanted a laugh and instead, she had gotten one of Honey’s Category Four freakouts. 

By the time the store closed, Bea had calmed Honey down to a Category One, but she had asked Honey to stay the night with her just to make sure she was okay. Bea practically babysat Honey all night, which is probably not how she wanted her evening to go. She probably had plans to meet up with one of the boys, but she was relegated to hanging out with Honey instead. It’s another reason why Honey feels guilty.

Poor Bea. She didn’t sign up for such drama when she became friends with Honey in grade school. If she could go back, Honey wonders if she would change it.

Bea stirs when Honey tries to take back some of her covers. “No,” she whines, blinking blearily. “Don’t take my blankets.”

“You can’t have all of them,” Honey insists, able to secure a corner of the topsheet. She bundles herself in the thin linen. 

Bea squeezes her eyes shut and whines again, turning away from Honey and trying to fall back asleep.

“Hey,” Honey says.

“What,” Bea replies, her voice an annoyed grumble. She’s never been a morning person.

“Never mind,” Honey decides, thinking better of asking the question. It’s too early and Bea will think she’s still in a bad headspace. 

Bea tosses her head back and turns over, glaring at Honey before reaching up to rub the sleep out of one eye. “Say it. You can’t just start your sentence and then say ‘never mind.’”

Now it’s Honey’s turn to roll her eyes. “You do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s different when I do it.”

Honey scoffs. “It’s only different because you think you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

“Because I’m special,” Bea brags.

“You think so.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday week, you have to listen to me.”

Honey sighs. “Fine. I was wondering if, if you could go back in time, you’d still choose to be my friend.”

Bea widens her eyes, an alarmed look taking over her features. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Well, ‘cause…” Honey shrugs. “Everything with Thomas? Everything with Trevor?”

Bea scoffs. “If I could go back in time and change anything, I’d stop you from dating Thomas in the first place. But, then we wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t have met Trevor. Who, by the way, you’re still not breaking up with.”

“I know,” Honey drawls, rolling her head back on her shoulders. Bea spent a good portion of yesterday trying to talk Honey down from making a ‘rash decision that she’ll regret.’

“Good, I’m glad we’re still on the same page about that,” Bea says. She brings her hands out from under the covers and stretches, then sits up. The sheets pool around her waist. “He’s our guest reader today.”

“What?” Honey asks. She sits up too. 

“He’s our guest reader for Story Time,” Bea says again. 

Honey’s mouth opens in surprise and a little bit of anger. “When did you organize that?”

“After you fell asleep last night,” Bea reveals with a shrug. 

“Why?” Honey demands.

Bea smiles. “He wanted to see you yesterday.”

Honey gestures for her to continue, not satisfied by that answer. 

“Don’t act like your boyfriend needs an excuse to see you,” Bea says.

Honey frowns. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“He’s not.”

“Okay.”

“Bea.”

“I said okay, Hon. If he’s not your boyfriend, then he’s not your boyfriend.”

“We’re just hooking up.”

“For now,” Bea mumbles.

“Yes, Bea, for now,” Honey says, practically pleading for the girl to understand what she’s explaining. “He leaves at the end of the summer.”

“You don’t have to remind me that they’re leaving,” Bea says, sighing.

“Well, they are, which is why he’s not my boyfriend. He’ll never be my boyfriend. He’s just– stress relief.” Honey has climbed out of the bed by now, gathering clothes from Bea’s dresser so that she can head to the Nook soon.

Bea laughs. “This is your way of not breaking up with him? Reducing him to ‘stress relief’ and pacing around my bedroom?”

“Bea!” Honey exclaims, halting her movements and facing the girl. “He’s not my boyfriend because he doesn’t deserve all of that pressure. You, of all people, know how much work it is to keep up with my constant mood swings and take care of me. It sucks, taking care of me. I ruined your night last night and the joke you wanted to make yesterday, and that’s just within the past twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not hard to take care of,” Bea says.

“You only say that because you’ve gotten used to it after the past five years,” Honey sneers. “Plus, you and I were friends for twelve years before Thomas, too. You’ve got experience. Trevor has no experience.”

Bea raises her eyebrows. “He might not have experience, but he has plenty of patience. Plus–”

“Look,” Honey interrupts. “I am not going to put a label on this. If he’s my boyfriend, then he’s partially responsible for me. It’s part of the package. He’s leaving at the end of the summer anyway and we both know, after last night, that I can’t handle being seen in public with an NHL player. He’s not my boyfriend because I don’t want him to resent me by the end of the summer.”

“Why would he resent you?” Bea asks.

Honey throws her hands up in exasperation. “Because I’m hard work and I can’t give him what he wants! I can’t even tell Jack and Cole and Luke about this relationship. That’s a shitty way to live.”

Bea leans forward, holding eye contact with Honey. “Honey, Trevor is obsessed with you,” she says, speaking clearly as if Honey can’t hear her. “He’s not going to leave you. He’s not going to resent you. He wants you.”

“Yeah, now,” Honey scoffs. “He won’t want me when–”

“All the time,” Bea insists. “He wanted to eat you out because you looked pretty on Monday. You looked like a fucking bum.”

“Hey!” Honey complains. “So did you,” she grumbles.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Bea waves her off. “The point is, Honey, he really likes you. Even Quinn says it and he’s always annoyed with Trevor. He never says anything nice about Z if he can help it.”

“Well, whatever,” Honey replies. “I’m going to the Nook.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in like fifteen,” Bea says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and heading towards her bathroom. “I gotta tame this bedhead.”

It’s a wonder that Bea is late to work almost every day. She lives, like, a five minute walk from The Reading Nook, in a townhouse just off the main street. It’s the best piece of real estate that Litchton has seen in years, in Honey’s humble opinion. Her building was a repurposed government building and the apartments were split up by department. Bea lives on the second floor in the brick building, in the old Parks and Rec department. Now, the Parks and Rec department resides in the only real building in Litchton’s only park. 

Honey joins Ada in the Nook, busying herself with some of the opening tasks that she knows Ada hates. Sweeping under the shelves, mostly. Honey likes that she’s left alone to do her sweeping. She’s able to avoid Bea when she comes into the store and she’s able to sneak off before the start of Story Time.

She restocks the stacks until there are no books left. She’s searching high and low for a book out of place, but Honey can’t find any. The only other thing to do in the store is take up her spot behind the counter and listen to Story Time, waiting for the parents and kids to be done. No one buys anything during Story Time. They’re just there to listen. It’s afterward that they mingle and look around– maybe because school is starting in about two months, people will be doing summer reading, and they’ll need a book.

Honey is praying for something to intervene. She's praying. Honey doesn't pray. She also doesn’t want to see Trevor after everything she’s felt over the past few days. She’s still not sure what she wants to do. Does she want to hook up with him like everything’s normal? Does she want to end it now and save herself the hurt later?

Or, does she want to take the jump and do more, like Trevor is always asking? Dinner, drinks, wearing his shirt in public, shit like holding hands. Is Honey ready for that? Is Trevor the right person to trust with that?

As much as she’d like to avoid making a decision on that front, Honey’s distracted by Trevor’s voice as he reads The Giving Tree. Of course he chose to read The Giving Tree, too– it’s such a cliché book. Honey never liked it as a kid. She always thought that the boy was selfish and the tree gave up too much. She knows that the whole point of the giving tree is that the tree gives everything it can selflessly, but she just hated it. Her mom loved it, so they read it a lot. There’s probably a worn copy of the book in Honey’s home, come to think of it.

She doesn’t like the book, but Trevor’s making these silly voices for the tree and the boy… and Honey just wants to melt into a puddle. She’s able to make it over to the counter without looking at him. She’s able to pick up her book and skim the words on the page, not really reading them. She’s too distracted by Trevor’s voice and his conspiratorial whisper. 

“‘Come, boy,’ She whispered,” Trevor says. “‘Come and play.’” His voice changes to something deeper, more gruff. “‘I am too old and sad to play,’ said the boy. ‘I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?’”

Honey closes her eyes and bites the insides of her cheeks. She shakes her head to herself, pushing her tongue against the back of her top teeth.

“You okay?” Bea asks, touching Honey’s shoulder and making her jump. She could’ve sworn that a minute ago, Bea was loitering at the back of the group of parents, listening to Trevor speak. 

Honey forces a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. She nods at Bea, shooing her away. 

Bea watches her for a second longer, walking backwards to rejoin the group. She offers Honey a shaky thumbs-up on the walk back, waiting for Honey to give her a signal that she’s not fine. Honey refuses. She already caused enough problems for Bea lately. She doesn’t want to be the emotionally unstable friend that needs to be watched every minute of every day.

She catches a glimpse of Trevor behind Bea and through the parents. Like a car crash, she’s unable to look away. He’s wearing golf clothes, like he’s about to go on the greens with the boys after Story Time. His hair is tucked up into a cap and he’s smiling widely at the crowd gathered around his feet. There’s a little, baby girl using Trevor’s leg to pull herself into a standing position. He turns the page and shows her the illustration, mouth wide open in a showman-like gasp before he starts again. 

“‘Well,’” he reads. “‘Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ And the boy did!” He exclaims, smiling at the little girl. She reaches up to try and touch his teeth.

Honey’s heart suddenly feels like it’s being thrown through a meat grinder. She’s taking deep breaths like it can level her head. She’s touched by Trevor’s dedication to the book and to his audience. She catches one of the moms whispering and pulling out her phone, taking a video and zooming in on the girl as she stomps a foot like she’s ready to walk. She doesn’t, but she’s standing. 

“She’s never done that before,” Honey catches as the mother starts to whisper again. 

Her eyes return to Trevor. He’s closing the book, placing it gently in his lap. Trevor’s eyes find Honey and his eyes soften. So do the edges of his lips, turning upward like an instinct. “And the tree was happy,” He says with that same soft smile. 

The parents break into applause, prompting their children to do the same. Trevor continues to look at Honey, but she can feel her frown deepen into something almost comical. She looks away and shakes her head again, biting her lower lip so hard that she wonders if she’ll leave a mark. She covers her face with both hands, then drops them. She shakes out her wrists and takes an unsteady breath.

Fuck. She’s going to cry right here behind the cash register.

In order to prevent the embarrassment and to save herself from further content that will make her emotional, Honey hops off her stool and ducks into the back room. She closes the door behind her, sitting down at the little wooden table where she and Bea normally eat lunch, folding her arms and cradling her forehead against the skin. Her nose is brushing the wooden tabletop, so Honey shifts lower until her arms are resting against the edge of the table. 

She takes a few breaths, swallowing hard as she winces and shakes her head some more. She feels like a fucking bobblehead. She hates that book. She hates that it always applies in every situation. 

She’s the boy. Trevor is the tree. She takes, he gives, and nothing will change for her except age and he’ll be left gutted and stoopy from all of her taking. 

Honey’s getting a migraine. This week has been too emotional and turbulent for her. 

The door opens and shuts. Honey doesn’t have to look up. He’s been following her around for weeks. Why would this be any different?

“I can’t do that to you,” Honey whispers. “And if you stay with me, I’m gonna do that to you. I don’t want you to give up everything because of me.” If her eyes were open, they’d be stinging with tears. She decides to brave it. Honey picks her head up and faces him.

The look on Trevor’s face is one of deep thought. He’s pouting just a tad, just enough that Honey can tell. He looks at her, takes his time examining every detail of her outfit and her body and her face. When he finally speaks, his words follow the same volume Honey used. 

“I’m not giving up anything,” Trevor says. “I’m– I’m getting you.”

Honey grimaces and looks away, sniffing and wiping under her nose.

Trevor walks closer. He crouches, then kneels next to her chair. “Baby,” he breathes, putting a hand on her knee. 

Honey fixes him with a miserable glare, a tear running down her cheek before she can stop it.

Trevor reaches up and wipes it away. “I’ll give everything I have,” he murmurs. He brushes her hair out of her face. “If you’re the company by my side at the end of the story.”

Honey crumples and cries. “I’m sorry,” she says through the tears. 

“Sorry for what, Honey?” Trevor prods, tilting his head at her and looking up through those sad puppy-dog eyes. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

Even though he’s right, Honey is still sorry for everything. She still feels like she’s weighing on him, like her past is weighing on them. She thought she was healing because she didn’t think about Thomas as much anymore at the beginning of the summer. It was just denial– five fat years of denial and repression that’s bubbling up now that she’s got this sweet, caring, and devoted boy at her feet. She wishes she could give him everything. Unfortunately, she’s never been the giving kind.

She’s hoping that can change. 

“I– I do like you,” Honey stammers out, trying to sound as convincing as she can through the tears. “You know I do.”

Trevor nods seriously. “The sex gave it away.”

Honey bursts into a fresh round of tears, spurred on by the sudden laughter that Trevor inspired. She wipes under her eyes. “I’m really trying,” she insists.

“I know you are,” Trevor says. 

“Sometimes I think it doesn’t seem like it, but I am,” Honey says again. “I know you’re not– him. He never tried this hard.”

“He didn’t know what he was missing,” Trevor says. “You are sweet, and smart, and quick, and you challenge me. I’ve never had to try so hard for someone.” He shrugs. “You’re just– worth it.”

“How do you– how do you know that?” Honey asks, feeling silly and embarrassed to ask such a stupid question. 

Trevor shrugs, touching her face down to her neck and shoulders. “I don’t know it. It’s just natural. Like, of course I’m trying this hard for you. It’s you.”

Honey understands the sentiment, even though Trevor is the worst at explaining his feelings. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, reading her mind. “That probably sounded stupid. I’m really bad at talking about stuff like this.”

Honey breathes out a laugh and reaches down to cradle Trevor’s face. “You’re sweet,” she says, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for trying so hard. I wish I didn’t make it so hard for you.”

“I don’t care, baby, don’t worry about all of that.”

“I worry,” Honey says, thumbing over Trevor’s bottom lip to wipe her lipgloss away. She only put it on because Bea handed it to her when she walked into The Reading Nook, wordlessly. They always share lipgloss and chapstick and have for years. It’s second nature and now Bea’s cherry lip gloss is smeared along Trevor’s lips. “I always worry.”

“How about this,” Trevor starts.

Bea knocks on the door, popping her head into the room. “Hey, Hon?” She says softly. “Jessie’s wondering if she and Luca can say goodbye to you before they go.”

Honey sniffs and wipes under her eyes. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll be right out.” Bea nods and leaves the back room. Honey pats the side of Trevor’s face and gestures for him to move so that she can stand.

He does, taking her hand and squeezing it. He uses his other hand to wipe her eyes once more. “I’ll come over later and we can talk, yeah? I’ll bring you a bunch of trashy food and we can do a whole lot of nothing until you feel better.”

Honey nods. “Okay. Do you want to sleep over?” 

She wants Trevor to sleep over, but she won’t tell him to stay outright. Honey wants it to be his choice. She knows that his answer is yes, always yes to sleeping over, but she doesn’t want to assume.

He tries to stop his face from lighting up, but Honey notices anyway. She’s unable to hold back a smile and an eye roll. 

“I’ll see you after you get off work, yeah?” Trevor says, touching her fingers like a promise. 

Honey can only nod. She leaves the room first, bidding Jessie and little Luca a goodbye. She bounces the toddler on her hip after he reaches for her, still attached to her from the year and a half of babysitting she did for Jessie and Tyler when Luca was first born. When she finishes saying goodbye to the boy and once she heads back to the back room to see how puffy her eyes are, Trevor is gone. 

He stays true to his word and shows up at her house after work. He’s changed into his comfy clothes after golfing, but he loses his shirt once he sees that Honey is already in her pajamas. He lost to Quinn and Jack in the final few holes, but beat Cole and Luke. He tells Honey that he’s happy being the middle of the pack, which she makes fun of him for saying. 

They watch a movie on Honey’s couch, some new terrible rom-com that Trevor swears was good when Cole watched it. Once Honey decides that the movie stinks, Trevor makes it his mission to kiss every inch of her exposed skin until she’s squirming and pushing him away. He just laughs and keeps going while she squeals, placing his hand against the side of her neck to caress her skin.

Honey relaxes over the course of the film, comforted by the weight of Trevor’s hand on her neck and the way he’s laying half-on-top of her. His lips continue to kiss her skin and brush against her, keeping Honey on her toes and making her body feel charged with electricity. It’s lazy and sweet and it’s actually very comforting– Honey doesn’t think about Thomas or her fear and anxiety about her relationship with Trevor once. She just watches the poorly-made film and plays with Trevor’s hair.

They talk in murmured and hushed whispers as the night passes, even after the movie ends and the food Trevor brought over goes cold. They don’t even fuck, despite the fact that Honey can feel Trevor’s dick pressing into her hip the whole night long. He puts his hand up her shirt to cup her boob, another comforting weight.

They sleep on Honey’s couch. It’s thinner than a twin bed and probably a lot less comfortable in the long run, but Honey and Trevor fall asleep right there, too comfortable and content to move. Trevor falls asleep first, his breath fanning out and raising goosebumps on her skin. Honey continues to pet through his hair until she, too, closes her eyes and succumbs to calm dreams. It’s the most secure she’s felt in days and that’s all thanks to Trevor.

Honey wishes that she could express it outright, that Trevor is the right person to trust with all of this. It’s just a matter of getting all of it out. 

47:90 – TREVOR

They’ve been decorating all day. Trevor is about at his wit’s end with Quinn and no matter how much he’s begged Honey over text, she won’t send him a picture of her dress. She won’t tell him how she’s doing her hair, or even what lip color she’s wearing. He’s asked over and over, since they’re back to normal after Honey’s freakout the other day, and since they’re back to normal… she’s teasing him. The only detail she’s offered is what he already knew: her dress is black. It has offered him absolutely no relief.

But, finally, it’s time for Trevor to get dressed. The closest thing he has to a black suit, which is what Quinn wanted him to wear, is his navy suit with the thin white checkered lines on it. 

He actually should get another one ahead of Shoulder Check– maybe he can swing by his home in New York before the media starts for the game. It’s in about two weeks and Trevor has barely thought about his participation– really, he was having so much fun in Litchton and with Honey that he forgot about his other responsibilities. He loves the Shoulder Check Showcase and everything it stands for. Maybe he can bring Honey with him.

Meh. He thinks. That’s a question for another time.

He suits up in his fancy outfit, having steamed his shirt ahead of time to get rid of the wrinkles. Trevor runs a comb through his hair, touching the flow to make sure it’s in place. He folds his collar over and considers adding a tie, but decides against it. He’ll probably lose the suit jacket by the end of the night anyway, so what’s the tie worth? 

Quinn seems to think otherwise. He’s wearing that same dark suit he always wears, with the same shirt he always wears, and the same tie he always wears. Trevor would rag on him, but Jack and Luke are already teasing him. Luke can barely speak though– he’s not even showered. 

He’s wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing all day and he got out of decorating because he stayed away from the house and played hockey all day. He got up at the ass-crack of dawn and snuck out of the house, driving himself and his gear to Charlotte. He just got back about twenty minutes ago. Trevor wishes he had thought of disappearing first– Quinn promised that if Trevor bought the supplies, he wouldn’t have to decorate, and yet he was the one tasked with blowing up balloons to scatter throughout the basement.

Everyone else is ready, though. Jack is playing some game on the basement TV while Cole hangs up even more streamers along the pool table, just for fun. Quinn is delicately filling and balancing plastic champagne flutes atop each other, creating an impressive tower that Trevor’s sure will fall apart before the end of the night. That’s why he bought plastic flutes instead of deciding to use the ones in the cabinet upstairs.

Luke lumbers downstairs in his NHL Awards suit, tie and all. He joins Jack on the couch and leans back, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. 

Trevor busies himself at the makeshift bar they’ve set up. It’s more of a big cooler that they usually use on the boat, filled with ice and beers and the seltzers that Bea likes so much. He doesn’t know why he bought so much liquor if no one is going to drink it. There’s a full bottle of everyone’s favorite kinds of liquor, and not the cheap ones– Bea and Cole like tequila. Honey prefers vodka, but she’s not averse to a gin and tonic when the moment calls for it. Trevor likes keeping both on hand for her. Luke and Jack are vodka folks too, although they’re slowly warming up to scotch and whiskey. Jim likes whiskey, as does Quinn, and Quinn started getting into bourbon before he started focusing on his diet for hockey again. This might be one of his last nights to go crazy before he cuts drinking out completely again. 

He was so annoying last summer when he did it– although Trevor did like the fact that Quinn was always their DD. This summer has been better. He indulges and parties with them, but he’s not a stickler about their own habits. It’s another way that Litchton has mellowed Quinn.

“Yoohoo!” Trevor hears from the foyer upstairs. “Anybody home?”

He grins to himself. With Bea comes Honey– and the clicking of high-heeled feet on the floor above him is proof. Trevor’s face feels split from how he’s trying to hold back his smile and stay calm, busying himself with the drinks. He digs for a Modelo that is completely submerged in the ice. 

“We’re down here,” Quinn calls, balancing that final champagne flute on the tippy-top of his pyramid. 

“Good job, Q. Looks good. Makes me want to take a flute from the bottom,” Jack says. “Send it all crashing down.”

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Quinn replies with a quirk of his eyebrow. Then, his eyes fall toward the steps, towards the clatter of feet. Bea is bounding down the stairs with graceful ease, whereas Honey is stepping carefully and holding onto the railing.

Bea comes first, but once Trevor gets eyes on his girl, he can’t look away. The dress is black, alright. So are the high heels. After that detail, Trevor’s mind goes blank. It’s tight on her waist and hips, and long. It’s scrunchy towards the middle of her chest, accentuating her lovely tits. Trevor likes the straps of the dress too– a see-through ribbon material that she’s tied into this elegant bows. It’s how Trevor’s going to undo the dress later tonight, if he ends up undoing it at all. He might just crawl up under the fabric and get his mouth on her with it still on her body.

Honey’s lips are painted in a dark red. Her lips perk up when she catches Trevor staring, but she’s quick to turn away and greet Cole, who’s taking her hand and lifting it up for her to spin underneath. Her hair is up and curled and beautiful and a breath of laughter escapes Trevor. He quickly stifles it and goes back to his beer, twisting the cap off. He picks a seltzer from the cooler, Honey’s favorite kind. 

Trevor sets it on the edge of the bar, next to the fruit board that he organized just for Honey. She’ll know it’s meant for her and that it’s from him.

After he wanders over to the sofa, after he’s had a few sips of his beer, and after he’s eaten some chips and dip, Trevor sees Honey pick up the seltzer and read the label. She smiles to herself and picks up a raspberry, popping it into her mouth. She glances at Trevor and tips the can at him like a toast. Then, she turns away.

They don’t interact for most of the night. Honey keeps a safe distance away– it’s part of what they talked about last night. She told him that she’s worried that they’re being too obvious. Trevor’s solution was that he’d leave her alone. He’d stop giving her those “forlorn puppy eyes”, as she calls them, and he’d stop following her around until she gives him The Signal.

It took them about an hour to decide on what the signal would be. Trevor’s bad at code words and Honey refused to be so obvious and agree to some hand signal. They eventually decided that she’d play with her hair for an extended period of time, and if that didn’t work, she’d send him a text. They decided that she’d send him the seeing-eye-dog emoji, since Trevor made the joke that he’d be blind if he didn’t notice that Honey wanted to hook up with him. She had replied that it’ll probably be her most-used emoji by the end of the summer.

They drink, they’re merry, and Honey catches Trevor watching her more times than he’d like to admit. She shakes her head at him like she’s disappointed in him, but Trevor’s not too hurt. After all, he’s caught her staring, too.

The party goes into the night and Cole is the drunkest of them all. He’s commandeered a bag of pretzel rods from upstairs, which Trevor had tucked away in case they needed more food. He’s not sure how Cole found them. He thought he put them in a high-enough cabinet. It’s probably a good thing that Cole found something to soak up all the drinks, though, because if he hadn’t, his words would be even more absurd than what he’s saying now.

It started as an evaluation of all of their outfits, with proper ratings after he forced them to strut across the room. Now, they’re all tired and talking deliriously, and Cole is talking about how pretty each of the girls are. Trevor’s not even mad– it’s just funny.

“Honey, you’re like small-town-girl pretty. When I saw you, I thought: what the fuck is she doing here?” Cole says.

Honey scoffs out a laugh, raising her drink to her lips. “Gee, thanks, Coley.” Her lipstick is smudging the rim of the can.

Cole continues. “No, like… you’re the kind of pretty where I could imagine someone meeting you in college and when you tell them that you’re from Litchton, they’d be all ‘Oh, no way, I thought you were from Raleigh’ or something.”

“Well, I’m from Charlotte,” Honey corrects under her breath. Trevor chuckles into his beer.

Cole talks on like he didn’t hear her. Maybe he didn’t. “You’re state capital level pretty, but some of the charm is that you’re from a small town.”

“Sick,” Honey says sarcastically. “I really appreciate that clarification.”

“And Bea’s like an actress that always wears an evening gown and holds a champagne flute in every role she plays,” Cole says. Trevor wonders if it’s because she’s conveniently holding a champagne flute between her fingers now. “Just because it’s so perfect. You’re, like, regal-hot, Buzz.”

Trevor rolls his eyes. That’s Honey’s nickname for Bea. Cole using it is like when Honey called Trevor ‘Z.’ Bea doesn’t seem to mind.

“You could model if you weren’t living in Litchton, Bea,” Cole says. He’s started hiccuping and now he’s pointing his pretzel at Quinn. Quinn and Bea are sitting on the floor, with Bea between his legs. Her back is against his front and his arms are hugging her. Cole pipes up again. “Dude, she should talk to Liv. Didn’t she say that whoever-the-fuck was always looking for people? Bea could be their champagne girl.”

Oh. Trevor cringes. Cole has completely lost track of anything that is socially acceptable. He’s entering uncharted territory, a very dangerous topic: past relationships that didn’t end necessarily well. 

Cole doesn’t notice anything, even when Quinn glares at him. “Yeah, she did say that,” Quinn replies.

“Bea, I’m serious. You really should talk to Liv.”

“Who’s Liv?” Honey interrupts, looking around the room. 

Trevor’s honestly surprised that Bea hasn’t told Honey about Olivia yet– he knows that Quinn has told Bea about his recent ex-relationship. 

An awkward silence falls over the room with each of the boys looking at each other. Who’s going to be brave enough to speak? Quinn doesn’t want to. Cole is oblivious. 

“Quinn’s ex,” Luke eventually murmurs. “She’s, uh, a model in New York.”

“Oh,” Honey says, turning to look at Bea. 

Trevor watches Quinn nudge his forehead against the back of Bea’s head, then his arms drop. He leans back, planting his palms on the ground behind him. Bea shuffles to the side a bit– and they’re no longer touching at all. 

“Coley, let’s play pool,” Honey suddenly says. “I bet I could whoop you right now. You probably can’t even do a break.”

“I can do a break!” Cole defends himself, sounding much more upset than he normally would be at the weak jibe. He clambers to his feet and deposits his bag of pretzel rods in Jack’s lap, setting his drink on the coffee table without a coaster. 

Honey joins him at the pool table and Trevor smiles at the sight of the duo in their fancy clothes, playing on their dingy table in their rustic room. 

Bea murmurs something to Quinn quietly, then she stands. She smooths out her white dress, adjusting the line of feathers that act as her neckline. It’s a strapless dress with a low back, and with how Quinn’s hand had been resting on the small of her back all night, he wasn’t expecting this evening to take this turn.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Bea announces unnecessarily, sounding awkward. “J, will you…?”

Trevor furrows his brow and looks at Quinn. The boy’s head is hanging and his fingers are picking at the fabric of the carpet. When Trevor looks at Jack, the boy’s lips are parted in surprise and his eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, downing his beer and grabbing his jacket when he stands. He and Bea head upstairs, disappearing from sight. 

The group kind of disintegrates after that. Cole and Honey play pool and Luke and Trevor watch them. Quinn returns to the television, throwing ESPN on and sipping his beer. He doesn’t talk, but he joins them once Honey schools Cole in pool. He takes the cue from Honey and Luke takes Cole’s, and Cole goes up to bed.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” Honey says quietly to Trevor, touching his lapel. “See you later?”

“Want me to come over?” Trevor asks.

“No. Gotta keep my schedule open for Bea. She might want to talk about this Liv thing. You can walk me to the door, though,” Honey decides. She looks over his shoulders to the other boys. “Bye, Lu. Bye, Quinn. Good luck with the Liv thing.”

“Thanks, Hon,” Quinn replies. He sends a ball into the corner pocket with a crack.

“See you, Honey,” Luke echoes.

She and Trevor walk upstairs and stop at the door. “Love this dress,” Trevor says. “Was hoping I’d take it off of you later.”

“Mm, I’ll wear it again before the summer is over,” Honey hums, unbuttoning one of the buttons on Trevor’s white dress shirt. She pulls the collar open more, so that his chest is starting to show. “Didn’t know you cleaned up so nice.”

“Well, I’ve heard good things about suits,” Trevor says noncommittally. 

Honey hums again. She leans up on her tiptoes to give Trevor a kiss. “Would rather see you without it. I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow?”

“Sounds fun,” Trevor replies. “I’ll tell the guys.”

Honey shakes her head. “I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow.”

“Might be hard to chase Cole away.”

“Okay, then a late-night rendezvous. We’ll tire ‘em out over dinner, all of them, and then we can use the hot tub while Bea celebrates her birthday with her man of choice.”

“For Quinn’s sake, let’s hope it’s him.”

“Mhm.” Another kiss. “Bye, darlin’.”

“Bye.”

Honey shuts the door behind her and Trevor holds his chin in the space between his index finger and thumb. His lips are tingling and his stomach is flying with butterflies. He loves when Honey calls him pet names. After a few days of trepidation, they’re back on track. Everything is exactly how it should be.

48:90 – HONEY

“How are you feeling?” Honey asks, digging through Bea’s purse for her lip gloss. 

They’re driving to the boys’ house now, since the guys just got back from practicing in Charlotte. Trevor says that they’re all pretty tired, so they’ll hopefully be alone in the hot tub later tonight. Trevor’s last text read that they’re all doing showers in a rotation and dinner is on the stove, ready to eat. Promptly, he stopped replying. Honey thinks he went to take a nap before they showed up, since he’ll be up late.

“About what?” Bea asks, avoiding eye contact.

Honey clicks her tongue and pauses her search for a moment. “‘About what,’” she repeats, mocking the girl. “About Quinn? About what was brought up yesterday? You went upstairs with Jack.”

“I feel fine,” Bea says.

Honey purses her lips. “No shot.”

“We talked about it last night,” Bea says. “After everything with Jack. Jack gave me info on Liv, I… rewarded him… in the least coercive way possible, I guess. Then I went to Quinn’s room. We talked it out and everything is fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Honey observes. “You still seem upset. What was it? Just the fact that they brought her up at all?”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Bea sighs. She pauses, grinding her teeth together. “It was the model thing.”

“You know Cole was drunk and–”

“No, not that. I think it’s sweet that Cole thinks I could model. It’s the fact that Quinn dated this girl, was completely in love with her, and she was a model. You know I’m not insecure, but, like, she’s a model.” Bea itches her temple, then gestures aimlessly in the air. “And now he’s with me?”

“Buzzy. You’re hot,” Honey says. 

“I know,” Bea drawls, rolling her eyes as she drags the word out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You just still seem upset,” Honey says with a shrug. 

“I’m not upset. Our talk was actually really helpful. Everything is back to normal.”

Bea is insistent and her tone is final. Honey decides to let the matter go, although she can tell that Bea is still affected by everything. Even though she talked it out with Quinn, Bea must have something nagging at her. Honey can tell by the way she’s gnawing at her bottom lip. 

Honey’s suspicion doesn’t improve once they get to the house. Bea descends on the liquor cabinet, breaking out the tequila and declaring that it’s her birthday tomorrow, so everyone has to drink with her. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Cole and Jack. Luke is quick to agree as well, then Quinn agrees once Bea bats her eyelashes at him, swearing with a pinky promise that he’ll keep up with her. While Quinn puts the finishing touches on dinner, an on-theme skillet of fajitas, Bea measures out the ingredients for margaritas and seems to forget about Honey’s allergy, because she throws a handful of strawberries into the blender for flavoring.

It all works out, remarkably– Honey’s not offended by Bea’s oversight. The girl apologizes profusely, threatening to throw the blended goods away and wash the blender and start over completely, but Honey manages to convince her not to. She just takes one of Trevor’s beers from the fridge and twists the top off, saying she’ll drink that. Trevor waves his own beer, already half-empty, and declares he’s also got his own.

Honey laughs to herself quietly, very fond of Trevor’s commitment to avoiding strawberries. He actually asked her the other day, when they were high and Trevor suddenly remembered that the fruit stand was open on Mondays and they ‘missed it!’, if he could eat strawberries and then kiss her. Just for fun, Honey had told him that if he did, her throat would close up and she’d swell up like that scene in Meet The Robinsons, and Trevor was so perfectly high that he believed her every word. He swore off strawberries and, apparently, he meant permanently.

They eat dinner and watch a few episodes of Bea and Cole’s favorite reality show. Honey and Jack share the loveseat and after the clock strikes 9, Jack is out. He falls asleep right on Honey’s shoulder, mouth open and head tipped back. 

Honey actually defends the boy from his younger brother and Cole, who wanted to see how many straws they could fit into Jack’s mouth before waking him up. She hugs her arm around his shoulders and Jack turns into her neck and snores softly. 

It’s a true testament to how much Honey has grown since meeting the guys– Jack used to get on her nerves, and still sometimes does, but she noticed that he’d been yawning all day. Once they had turned the TV on, his blinks had grown more and more slow, so Honey figured he needed a good sleep. 

Plus, it’s one less guy that she’ll have to kick out of the hot tub later.

Trevor volunteers to carry Jack upstairs to his bed, which Honey thinks is sweet. She also suspects that he doesn’t like the way Jack was cuddling up to her, nor the way she was petting through his hair maternally. 

“Hot tub?” Honey asks once the most recent episode of Cole’s reality show is over. 

The shorter boy perks up from his lazy position on the couch. “Hot tub?” He asks. “Yeah!” He bounds up and is out the sliding glass door before anyone else can agree. Honey can see, and hear, him taking the cover off of the tub and starting the jets. 

Bea looks at Quinn. “Do you want to?” She asks. She’s sitting on his lap again in their recliner chair. 

Quinn pats her thigh. “If you do.” He kisses her jaw. “We can have a couple more drinks then go upstairs, hm?”

“Sounds good.” Bea nods, then turns to Honey. “Will you do some shots with us?”

“I will!” Cole calls from outside. 

Bea looks over at him, then back to Honey. She prompts the girl again with a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll do a shot,” Honey agrees. “If Luke does.”

Luke’s already drunk off of his third margarita, so it doesn’t take much to convince him to do another shot. By the time they make it outside, Cole has stripped down to his underwear and he’s in the tub. Luke and Quinn go upstairs to change into swimsuits, whereas Honey and Bea wore their own underneath their clothes, and Trevor comes back in his own swimsuit. He says that Jack woke up shortly after they made it up the stairs and demanded that Trevor “unhand him,” so he’ll be down in his own trunks soon enough.

“Feels nice,” Bea sighs, lowering herself into the bubbling waters. She sags once she’s on the ledge, sitting as far in the water as she can without putting her head underneath.

Honey does the same, checking her watch to start her fifteen-minute count. Bea has tried to tell her over and over again that it doesn’t matter if she stays in the water for longer than fifteen minutes, but Honey once read a lifeguarding handbook and the recommendation to split up your time in a hot tub always stuck with her. 

“I love this hot tub,” Cole announces, a dopey smile overtaking his face. “We should use it more. I can’t believe we’ve only used it twice.”

“We’ll use it more,” Bea says, an empty promise that could be easily filled, but probably won’t come to fruition. 

As Quinn returns, Bea asks him to grab some plastic shot glasses and her almost-empty bottle of tequila. She pours shots for everyone, emptying the bottle on the fourth. Quinn switches over to the open bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a shot and two additional ones. Honey offers to take one of those, as does Luke.

They all cheer together.

“To Quinn’s last night with liquor,” Bea cheers, lifting her glass higher than the rest of them.

Quinn smiles with his teeth, eyes a little bleary. “To Bea’s birthday,” he says, trumping her toast. Everyone echos what he says before throwing back their drinks. 

Bea smacks her lips contentedly, smiling wide and pointing to the sky like a rock star. “To Bea’s birthday,” she simpers, floating over to pull herself onto Quinn’s lap. She settles there, kissing him until his brothers start booing. “Don’t be losers,” Bea chastises.

“We wouldn’t hate so much if you were kissing each of us like that,” Jack teases, puckering his lips at the end of the statement. 

Bea fixes him with a look. “Maybe he’s the best kisser.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says with a shit-eating smile. “You can admit that he’s your favorite. He’s already Mom and Dad’s favorite.”

“Well, much like your mom and dad, I have to insist that I don’t have a favorite,” Bea says, sticking her nose into the air. Quinn squeezes her sides and she shrieks, laughing.

They shoot the shit for nearly an hour before anyone decides to leave the tub– except for Honey. She leaves the tub every fifteen minutes, like always, and she’s usually tasked with grabbing snacks or a drink refill for her friends. 

Luke is so drunk that he’s starting to fall asleep, so he’s the first to leave the tub, at Quinn’s request. He makes it all the way to the sliding glass door before Quinn tells him to sleep on the couch in the living room. Luke is too tired to argue, which Honey thinks is both sweet and sad that he doesn’t go to his own bed.

Luckily, though, Quinn and Bea aren’t far behind. They must have a secret language and code like Honey and Trevor do, because all Quinn does is pat Bea’s hip and she’s moving out of the tub and saying that they’ll see everyone tomorrow. 

Their departure leaves Honey, Trevor, Cole and Jack in the tub. Cole is content with his back against one of the jets, practically massaging the area. He won’t stop raving about it. Jack is still yawning and rubbing his eyes, but he’s joking around with Honey and Trevor as they talk. It isn’t long until Honey starts to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers, eying Trevor pointedly.

Which works– he notices quickly and starts to talk about how tired he is and how he can’t wait to go to bed.

Unfortunately, his friends don’t catch the hint.

“So go to bed,” Jack says dryly, making a face at Trevor. “I don’t want to hear about how tired you are. You’ve got a perfectly comfortable king size bed up there, Z. Use it.”

“Yeah, Z,” Cole agrees, eyes closed. “Also, maybe if you weren’t sneaking out at night to go sleep at all of your Raya girls’ houses, then you’d be less tired.”

Trevor shares a look with Honey. She plays it off with an interested quirk of her eyebrows, blinking at him. “Is that so?” She asks, sing-songy. 

“Yeah, he’s been leaving the house at weird hours and he doesn’t come back until the next day,” Cole says, opening his eyes a bit at the chance to gossip. “And I checked Raya. I don’t know who these girls are. He might be going all the way down the mountain to see them.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Trevor replies, smiling smugly at the ‘clever’ quip.

“Yeah, you’re magic alright.” Jack nods sarcastically. He raises his voice. “‘Oh, Trevor. Trevor, Trevor. Please,’” he mocks. 

“Oh my God,” Cole laughs, sitting up. “Dude, she was so loud on Monday. I thought I couldn’t sleep because we were high, but then all of that noise.”

Honey’s eyes widen. That ‘noise’ must have been from her. She was the girl in the house on Monday. 

The boys continue cajoling, splashing each other and getting into a little spat over the mocking of her moans. Trevor doesn’t think it’s funny, but Jack and Cole find his lack of humor about the situation even funnier, so it just gets worse. Honey checks her watch and sees that it’s time for her to take a break, so she starts to climb out of the tub. 

She turns to face the sliding glass door, gathering up some trash from around the tub, and spots movement inside.

Bea is walking down the stairs, the only clothes on her body being the bottom of her bikini. Her boobs are free and she’s glowering as she walks across the basement, stomping towards her white board in the corner.

“Oh my God,” Honey exclaims, caught off guard by the sight.

“What?” Trevor asks, looking her way. Honey catches the moment he spots Bea because his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he looks away. “Oh my God!”

It’s like a chain reaction. Both Cole and Jack utter their own “What?” before turning to look at Bea. She’s scribbled something onto the whiteboard and is making her way to the hot tub, throwing the sliding door open and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You,” she says, pointing at Jack. “Upstairs, now.” She looks over at Cole, squinting. He smiles and waves, just wiggling his fingers with a little wink. Bea sucks her top teeth, then snaps her fingers at Cole. “Yeah. You too. Upstairs, please.”

Cole turns to Jack, both boys already making their way out of the hot tub. They drip on the concrete. Jack wraps his towel around his waist and Cole uses his to dry his hair. 

“Ha,” Cole says to Jack. “I got a please. All you got was a ‘now.’ Bitch-boy.”

“Yeah, well, she asked for me first,” Jack replies, bickering in full swing. 

“You okay?” Honey asks Bea. The glare she gets is answer enough. Honey does not press any further.

Both boys disappear upstairs, scampering along the steps like they’re racing each other to get into Bea’s bed. Honey doesn’t know if they know where they’re actually going, but she does know that they’re in for a long night. Bea’s scowl means that she needs some intense TLC.

“Is she gone?” Trevor asks, eyes still averted from where Bea once stood.

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Honey says. 

“What do you think that was about?” Trevor turns to Honey, reaching out and touching her arm. He grabs at her playfully, pursing his lips and making kissing noises.

Honey rolls her eyes, but she gets back in the hot tub and straddles Trevor’s lap, touching his hair with her wet hands until he shakes her off like a dog. “Dunno,” Honey says. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. She seemed upset.”

“She walked down here naked,” Trevor says. “That’s crazy.”

“Well, she’s hooking up with three of the guys in this house,” Honey surmises. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

“It’s something I never planned on seeing,” Trevor says.

“Well, I appreciate that,” Honey jokes. “You’re a one girl kind of guy, huh, Trev?”

He places his hands on her behind and pulls her closer, rocking her hips against his growing bulge. “Yeah, I really like my Raya girl. I can’t believe she was so loud that the boys heard her the other night.”

“Wasn’t she high, though?” Honey teases, touching Trevor’s bottom lip. “That might be why she was so loud.”

“You don’t think I can do it again?” Trevor asks, brushing his fingers beneath the thin ties of her bathing suit. 

Honey shivers a bit on his lap at the touch, but she stays planted. “No, probably not. I hear you’re not that good in bed.”

“What?” Trevor lifts his hips and grinds against her. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me,” Honey replies. “I’m the one who didn’t come twice because of you.”

Trevor gasps. “When?” He questions, affronted. “I would never do that to you.”

“Well, you did,” Honey insists. She tugs Trevor’s hair until he snaps the band of her swimsuit against her back. 

“Mm, I’m sorry, baby,” Trevor muses, nuzzling under Honey’s neck and kissing the skin. “Won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not,” Honey agrees. “Especially not tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blue balled.”

Trevor chuckles out a laugh but doesn’t afford Honey a reply. Instead, he sucks a wet kiss under Honey’s jaw, touching the base of her neck. He repeats the motion until Honey is sagging against him, twisting her hips as she grows more and more wet in the tub. His hard-on is equally as insistent. 

“Oh, gross!” The sliding door had opened without either of them noticing. Quinn stands there, wincing and glaring at the duo. “God, it’s like you want to get caught.”

Honey turns to him, still sat on Trevor’s lap. Even if she wanted to get off of him, Trevor’s hands keep her securely atop him. 

“What are you doing down here?” Trevor asks, voice monotone and frustrated at the interruption. 

Quinn cuts his eyes at the boy. “I’m not upstairs with Bea, so I thought I’d come down here. I didn’t realize she’d have taken everyone else from the hot tub in my absence.”

Trevor shrugs. “Guess you just weren’t enough for the birthday girl.”

Honey touches Trevor’s chest. “Don’t be mean,” she says. She turns to Quinn. “What happened up there?”

Quinn turns red, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. “I’m sure Bea will tell you later.”

Trevor hums. “Why don’t you want to tell us? You’re here, after all.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “As if I’ll tell you anything, Z. Whatever. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone. Wouldn’t have come down here if I knew you were fucking in the hot tub.”

“You can stay if you want to,” Honey offers. Trevor and Quinn make the same face at her– clearly wondering why she’s extending an invitation to the other boy. Honey defends herself. “Not like that,” she says. “I’m not going to fuck you if Quinn is in the hot tub with us, Trevor.”

“Thanks for that,” Quinn says. “Good to know that someone here has respect for me.”

Trevor goes to open his mouth and rebut, but Honey presses her fingers to his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll just head back upstairs,” Quinn decides. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow for Bea’s birthday lunch.”

“Bea’s having a birthday lunch?” Trevor asks. “Will the celebrations ever end?”

“Well, it’s her actual birthday tomorrow,” Honey says. “So yes, the celebrations will end tomorrow. Goodnight, Quinn.”

“Goodnight, Honey. Use protection, Trevor.” Quinn leaves.

Trevor’s lips are on Honey once again, as soon as Quinn turns away. “Should we tell him that we don’t use that sort of thing?” Trevor asks, joking.

“I think he’d have a heart attack and ask me if I’m trying to ruin my life,” Honey says, sharing a smile with the boy beneath her. “Since I’m obviously the one being baby-trapped by you if anything happens, not the other way around.”

“Hey, anything to get you to stay in my life forever,” Trevor says. It makes Honey pause, because even though he moved on to feel the peaks of her nipples through her top, Trevor didn’t sound like he was joking as much as before. 

Honey decides to ignore it and escalate the situation further– she reaches behind herself and undoes the bow keeping her swimsuit together. The bikini top falls loose under Trevor’s fingers, where he’s pinching her nipples over the fabric, but he makes quick work of the swimsuit. He removes it entirely, dropping the top over the edge of the tub. It falls with a thwap against the pavement surrounding them.

“Now I’m just like Bea,” Honey jokes as Trevor weighs her breasts in his hands, grinning at the flesh that he’s kneading. 

Trevor snorts out a laugh. “Mhm, you’re two peas in a pod.”

“Be honest with me, now,” Honey says. She’s goading Trevor into an argument, seeing if she can catch him. “Whose tits are prettier, mine or Bea’s?”

“Yours,” Trevor replies instantly, thumbing over the piercing adorning one of her nipples.

Honey faux-gasps, having lured him right into her trap. “You looked at Bea’s boobs?”

Trevor scoffs against Honey’s skin. “Kind of hard to avoid when they’re just out like that.”

“I can’t believe you looked,” Honey admonishes. “How could you?”

Trevor rolls his eyes and circles his fingers around Honey’s throat. “That’s enough out of you,” he scolds softly. “You know I don’t care about any tits except yours.”

Honey’s hand slides up to cover his, over her throat. “I like this.”

“I thought you would,” Trevor says. “When we kissed on the balcony that night, I touched your neck and you made the prettiest little noise.”

“Well, apparently all my noises are pretty,” Honey replies with a pout. “And mockable.”

Trevor kisses the pout off of her face. “That’s just the boys being stupid, baby. They’re jealous that they’re not fucking a pretty girl every night.”

“Every night?” Honey asks, laughing incredulously. “We have not been fucking every night.”

“A guy can dream,” Trevor quips back. He grins at Honey and she kisses him instead of replying. It takes only a sweep of her tongue for Trevor to open his mouth, letting Honey take control of the kiss as he touches over her breasts and hips. It isn’t long before his fingers shift the crotch of her bikini bottoms to the side, petting through her wet folds.

“You know, it’s actually really gross to hook up in a hot tub,” Honey murmurs. 

“Yeah, it’s like a petri dish of disease,” Trevor agrees.

Neither of them make a move to get out of the tub. They just stay– Honey is grinding down on Trevor’s calloused fingers and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. Trevor is touching her neck, her piercings, and the tramp stamp on the small of her back, all while fingering her with the others.

Honey tries to keep quiet– now having heard that Jack and Cole overheard her moans on Monday, she’s determined to be subtle. After all, they’re making waves in this hot tub with all of their grinding and all of Trevor’s thrusting. Moans and screams would be too far, even with Jack and Cole occupied upstairs. Quinn could hear, although Honey knows he doesn’t want to, and hopefully Luke has been passed out since he left the tub in the first place.

Trevor fingers Honey until she’s squirming. “Ready to sit on my cock?” He probes, tweaking her nipple with his other hand. 

“Yes,” Honey agrees easily, greedy for an orgasm. Her body feels overheated, probably from the hot tub and the heat of the moment, but there’s nothing that will stop her from getting off now that they’ve started the process. 

“That’s my girl,” Trevor breathes out. He takes his fingers from inside of her and uses that hand to pull his shorts down, just enough to expose himself. 

Honey is far too eager, knocking his hand from the base of his cock and aligning herself with his member. She sinks down much more quickly than she expects Trevor would have, his goal always being to tease her as much as he can before she either snaps at him or, in the rarest of moments, actually begs for him to move. It’s only happened once. Honey is determined to only ever beg him again when it’s on her terms– not because he asked.

Trevor’s hands find her hips and he bites his bottom lip as she starts to move her hips, rolling them in sensual circles as she gets used to his length. Honey never noticed his chipped tooth before. She touches it before freeing his lip from the confines of his bite. Trevor kisses the pad of her thumb.

“Ride me good, baby,” Trevor encourages. “Wanna see your eyes roll back.” He snaps his hips up, thrusting into Honey in one sharp move that completely throws her off her rhythm.

“Trev,” she says with a frown, touching his chest. “You’re throwing off my concentration. Shut up.”

Trevor growls playfully. “So mean,” he says, snapping his hips up again.

“Do you want me to do it, or do you?” Honey asks. “Since you’re unable to stop yourself from fucking me, evidently.”

“Guess you just feel too good,” Trevor replies, kissing over her neck again. “Can’t help myself. This pussy was made for me.”

Honey’s heart flutters a little bit at his mumbled, possessive statement. She brings his hand back to her neck, moving her hips forward and backward in a fast rocking motion. “Made for you,” she says. “Is that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor says, licking his bottom lip. “It’s all mine.”

Honey stops moving. She sits heavily on his lap, dick buried inside of her. It’s throbbing and pulsing, filling her well, but Honey stays still. She touches Trevor’s collarbones, leaning down to kiss over them and up his neck. When she reaches his ear, she whispers, “Show me.”

When she pulls back, Trevor’s eyes are wide. His hand twitches around her neck, drifting lower to squeeze her left tit. “What?” He asks.

“Show me how good you are at fucking this pussy,” Honey says. “Since it’s ‘yours.’”

Trevor’s eyes grow darker. 

“Honestly, Trevor,” Honey continues. “My cunt was made for you? Prove it.”

The challenge finally gets through his head, with Trevor jumping into action. It’s the exact response Honey wanted from him: wild, quick, desperate rutting from Trevor’s hips and his hands clutching her body so hard that they’ll definitely leave marks. If not marks, they’ll leave the ghost of a memory for Honey to think about over the next few days. 

The tip of his cock bumps her walls with each thrust. Trevor’s even at the point where both of his hands are holding her ass cheeks, bouncing Honey on his cock in time with the thrusts. It makes the sex that much more electrifying, especially once Trevor angles himself in a way that has him brushing against Honey’s g-spot.

Honey closes her eyes and focuses on feeling, throwing her head back in pleasure. Trevor bites over her neck, then seals his mouth over her chest, and Honey holds his bicep tightly to keep herself grounded. The steam from the hot tub is like a sauna, stifling her a bit and making her sweat more than she would in a normal sexual environment.

Still, although the heat from the tub should make this experience worse, Honey just finds herself overtaken by gratification. Trevor’s making these choked groans and gasps in her ear and against her skin, which she feels are painting her body like a tattoo. Trevor’s pleasure is a part of her now. Knowing that he’s feeling good makes Honey feel even better– and when he comes, spilling inside of her like he’s physically unable to remove himself from her cunt long enough to come in his hand, Honey comes too.

She shudders with him inside of her, still fucking up into her lazily. Trevor’s eyes are half-closed, a smile gracing his face. He kisses her lips slowly, guiding her hips in smooth motions until Honey pats his chest and removes herself from his lap.

Honey climbs out of the tub, feeling water and Trevor’s cum slide down her legs. “Ew,” she murmurs to herself, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around herself.

“I hope that wasn’t a review,” Trevor pipes up with a laugh. “‘Ew’ is a terrible thing to say after sex, baby. Bruising my ego a bit.”

Honey sticks out her tongue at the boy. “Gonna go to the bathroom,” she says in lieu of an answer. “Steal some clothes from you. Are they still in a pile in your hamper?”

“Take some of my nice folded clothes in the dresser,” Trevor replies. He winks before adding, “Feel free to spray some of my cologne on the shirt so it smells that much more like me.”

Honey fake laughs at the boy: “Hardy har, Trevor.” She enters the house and heads up to his bedroom, tiptoeing around as if she’ll run into any of the boys. Luke is asleep on the couch in the living room, like she thought, and Quinn has disappeared. She can hear Cole and Jack behind Jack’s closed bedroom door, bickering about something still. Honey rolls her eyes. How they can fight when they’re both subbing in for Quinn tonight, she doesn’t know.

Once in Trevor’s room, Honey ties her hair up into a messy updo. She pees and hops in the shower to rinse herself off, using Trevor’s handheld shower head to clean her more intimate areas. Honey emerges shortly after, feeling much more refreshed and clean. The heat from the tub is no longer affecting her mind’s clarity.

She digs through Trevor’s dresser and finds a pair of boxers that resemble her favorite pair at home, which she throws on. On top of that, she wears one of Trevor’s hoodies. The sleeves cover her hands and she ties the strings into a little bow before she climbs into Trevor’s bed and cocoons herself under the covers.

A short while later, the boy finds her. He’s absolutely elated to have her in his bed, that much Honey can tell even without Trevor saying it aloud. It’s written all over his face when he jumps onto the bed and peppers kisses all over her face, and in the way that he snuggles up against her chest once he’s ready for bed. 

With one last kiss to her neck, Trevor is out like a light. Honey isn’t far behind him. Waking up and sneaking out of the house before church is the farthest thing from Honey’s mind with her sweet, doting boy breathing evenly next to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, for them to be sharing a bed. 

49:90 – TREVOR

“Why are you texting me when you know I stayed over?” Bea demands, barging into Trevor’s room. 

Trevor immediately pulls the covers to his chest. “Jesus Christ, Bea,” he exclaims. “All I did was wish you a happy birthday. Is that not allowed?”

Bea narrows her eyes at Trevor, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what,” she says. “We’re friends now?”

Trevor scoffs, sitting up in his bed. “I just thought it would be nice. It’s your birthday. I see you almost every day. Why wouldn’t I wish you a happy birthday?”

Bea remains skeptical, squinting at the boy. She taps her foot while she thinks. “I’ll allow it,” she decides. She drops her arms to her sides and looks around. “Where’s Honey?”

Trevor looks to her side of the bed. He frowns, a little confused at the empty space that should be occupied by the girl who went to sleep there. “I don’t– I dunno. I guess she snuck out while I was asleep.”

“Call her.”

“Call her?” Trevor repeats. 

“Call her,” Bea insists, like it’s an argument. 

Trevor blanches. “You call her.”

“She doesn’t pick up my calls this early anymore. You call her.” Bea points at his phone, jabbing the digit at it impatiently. “C’mon, Trevor, I need to talk to her.”

“Won’t you see her at lunch?” Trevor asks.

Bea takes a breath, closing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. “Trevor,” she says. She blinks open and her face is blank, impassive. “Please. Call her.”

Trevor reaches for his phone and holds it in his palm, biting his lip as he looks at Bea. She looks like she’s in pain while asking the boy for his help, reluctant, but certain that her decision is the correct one. Trevor slaps his phone against his palm and scrunches his nose. “You call her,” he reiterates, tossing the phone to Bea. 

She catches it, face contorted with confusion.

“What happened last night, anyway?” Trevor asks. “You seem…”

Bea glares at Trevor, causing him to snap his mouth shut. She turns his phone over and fiddles around a bit before putting the phone on speaker and throwing it back onto Trevor’s messy blankets. She joins him on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed. She places her hands on her ankles and straightens her back, watching as the phone rings and vibrates while they wait for Honey.

Trevor is a little uncomfortable, to be honest– Bea makes herself at home and he’s not wearing a shirt. No, she doesn’t care, and she’s wearing her pajamas too, but Trevor feels bare. 

“Hello?”

Trevor looks at Bea when Honey picks up, but the girl gestures at him to speak. Trevor, thrown off by the motion, says the only thing he can think of. “Hi, baby,” he greets quickly. He makes a face at Bea when she rolls her eyes, mouthing a defensive ‘what?’ at her.

“What’s up?” Honey asks.

“Um–” Trevor loses his train of thought, fighting silently with Bea as she motions for him to carry on the conversation before it’s her turn. “I was just, uh, calling to chat.”

Honey laughs. “Trev, I’m going to see you in three hours.”

“You didn’t say goodbye when you snuck out this morning,” Trevor says, making Bea faux-gag. ‘Fuck off,” Trevor mouths at her, sneering slightly.

‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ Bea mocks, sticking her tongue out.

“I did. You were half asleep and tried to hold me back by the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing,” Honey replies, amusement bleeding into her voice.

Oh, yeah. Trevor was there for that. He thought it was a dream. “Oh,” he says lamely.

Bea shakes her head, then picks up the phone so that she’s holding it flat in her palm, screen facing the ceiling. She speaks into the charging port, where the speakers are. “Are you coming to church?”

Honey pauses. “No.”

Bea groans, whining like a child. “Honey,” she drawls.

“Bea,” Honey replies, imitating the girl.

“I need you.” Bea pouts. Now, it’s Trevor’s turn to glare. He doesn’t like sharing, even with Honey’s best friend.

“Why do you need me?” Honey asks, her voice growing distant then returning like she switched which ear she was listening with mid-sentence.

Bea side-eyes Trevor before she speaks. “Q couldn’t get it up last night.”

Trevor can’t describe the feeling that overtakes him. This tidbit of information equally balances the scale again– when Quinn read Trevor’s sexts to Honey on Monday, the scale was thrown out of whack and Quinn had all the power. Now, Trevor knows something that Quinn doesn’t want him to know. It’s perfect. 

“Quinn– what?” Honey demands. There’s a clatter on her side of the line. She must have set something down so that she could hear better.

“He couldn’t get it up,” Bea hisses. “He had whiskey dick!”

The gossip is salacious. Trevor is delighted. He is so glad Bea didn’t take his phone and have this conversation privately. All of a sudden, his shirtlessness doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that Trevor is winning.

“No,” Honey breathes out. “On your birthday?”

“He couldn’t help it,” Bea explains with a frown, eyebrows turning down sympathetically. “We drank too much and, like, I know it happens sometimes, but it was just so jarring.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“Especially after we talked about Liv the night before,” Bea adds, turning and laying perpendicular from Trevor on his bed, knees bent over the edge and feet dangling. She places his phone on her chest, using both hands to cover her eyes in exasperation. “Also, yes, I overreacted and I had a threesome with Jack and Cole, but it wasn’t even fun for me. I was so in my head the whole time.”

Honey hums.

Trevor doesn’t understand. Quinn’s dick flagged, so Jack and Cole tagged in. That makes sense. Bea’s whole goal this summer was to get laid as many times as she could, with all of her partners. That’s solid– Trevor can work with that. But… being in your head during sex? Having sex ruined because you’re thinking? Trevor’s never had that problem before.

“What do you mean, you were in your head?” Trevor asks, interrupting.

Bea removes a hand from her face to glare at Trevor with her one visible eye. She groans, covering her face again. “Just– Trevor,” she says shortly. “Who’s the hottest man you can think of?”

“Ryan Reynolds,” Trevor responds instantly. He and the boys have talked about this before.

Bea sighs. “Of course you think that.” She takes another deep breath. “Such a fucking man response. Imagine Honey was seriously involved with Ryan Reynolds before you–”

“No, Blake would never allow that,” Trevor interrupts.

“Baby, that’s why it’s in your imagination,” Honey says patiently, whereas Bea had already thrown her hands down and turned her head to scowl at Trevor for interrupting her.

“And then imagine that the next time you go to hook up with Honey, after having a long conversation about her ex-boyfriend Ryan Reynolds, she’s not wet at all.” Bea states, over-enunciating her words. “How would you feel about that?”

Trevor is shocked by the comparison and how much it would affect him. “Oh, I’d be pissed,” he says.

Bea nods, her voice turning bitter and sarcastic. “Yeah, uh-huh. Then, to make things worse, you’re going to start comparing yourself to Ryan. ‘She’d be wet for Ryan,’ you’ll think. ‘Maybe he’s better for her. Maybe she should go back to him.’” She pauses, staring at him. “Now do you get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Trevor concedes, clenching his jaw a bit. 

Bea raises a finger. “One more thing. You’ll wonder if she thinks the same thing, so now you’re afraid that she’ll drop you to get him back.”

“Mhm,” Honey adds. 

“Well, don’t agree like you would,” Trevor complains, scoffing and frowning at Honey’s contact name on his phone screen.

“I’m not agreeing like I would,” Honey argues, exaggerating the same word as Trevor in the same tone. “I’m agreeing like Bea is making a good point. It’s a hypothetical, Trevor.”

“Well, it’s not fun,” Trevor says.

“No,” Bea interrupts. “It’s not.” She snaps her mouth shut and stares at Trevor, unblinking. Her nostrils flare briefly, then she breaks eye contact and returns to the phone, sitting up and resuming her previous position. She’s antsy, Trevor realizes. She’s jittery and anxious, not just pissed off.

“I thought you and Quinn were just hooking up,” Trevor says.

“We are,” Bea says, her voice a bit darker in that old reluctant way. “It’s just a little different. Quinn and I get each other more than Jack and me, or Cole and me.” She spits out the latter pairings like they’re sharp and piercing her mouth if they ruminate for too long on her tongue. 

“But– you wanted to hook up with all of them.” There’s still a bit of confusing lacing his words. “And you are. And you’ve enjoyed it.”

“Mm,” Honey hums. It’s a reminder that she’s still there, listening in, and Trevor and Bea aren’t having this discussion alone. “He’s right, Bea. You have enjoyed hooking up with them, just not last night.”

“I know,” Bea drones on. “That’s why it’s so hard. I, like, don’t even want to talk to him because it’s so stupid that I feel this way. I like hooking up with everyone. We decided that we wouldn’t be monogamous because he wasn’t over Liv yet.”

Trevor makes a face. He didn’t know that Quinn had said that. He seems fine all the time, but especially when Bea is there. They haven’t talked about Liv, or the breakup, since Jack originally informed Trevor and Cole that the relationship had ended in the first place. 

“You didn’t tell me that,” Honey says, but Bea interrupts, reacting to Trevor’s expression.

“Don’t make a face at me,” Bea chides. “Trevor, I feel bad. I like him! I think he’s awesome, but then he’ll say something offhandedly about missing her or something like this will happen–”

“This has happened before?” Trevor asks. “He's gotten whiskey dick before?”

Bea talks over him, ignoring him, except for a wave of her hand to silence him. “And I’m reminded that his ex-girlfriend is a model and that he’s looking to settle down with a wife and have babies!” She flounders, stammering a bit. “It’s just, like, so… so overwhelming. And it’s my fucking fault that I feel this way, because I’m the one who wanted to keep it casual and polyamorous when it could’ve gone the other way and I could’ve been happier with just Quinn. But then, he might not have enjoyed it because he just got out of this relationship so he also wanted something casual–”

“Bea, baby, you’re spiraling,” Honey murmurs. 

“I know, Honey,” Bea replies. “But, still, what am I supposed to do about this? I– fuck. I like being with him, and I think we’re a really good match, but it’s just not working out like I thought it would. Probably because I like him. But I also like what we’re doing and I don’t want to change it that much. Things just aren’t working the way that I thought they were and it’s my own fucking fault..”

“Buzzy,” Honey sighs. “He knows what he got into at the start of the summer. You told him and he agreed and endorsed your Slut Summer.”

“What if he regrets that?” Bea asks, eyes wide and growing faraway due to her frustration. She looks like she’s seconds away from crying. “Like– I don’t regret this, but I shouldn’t have made it such a deal. I’m worried Quinn is having second thoughts, too.”

Trevor hopes that she doesn’t cry, to be honest– he doesn't want to be sitting in his bed with Bea at the foot of it, bawling over Quinn and their confusing relationship.

“Fuck, not the what-ifs,” Honey teases, laughing.

Trevor’s not sure that’s what he would’ve said, but it seems to make Bea deflate a bit. She’s not as pent-up.

“Why did you have to go home so early?” Bea asks helplessly, cracking her knuckles. “I wish you were here to give me a hug.”

Honey is silent for a split second before her voice rings through the speakers. “Trevor, give Bea a hug.”

Trevor and Bea look at each other, side-eying the other person warily. Trevor raises an eyebrow. Bea rolls her head back on her shoulders and Trevor hears her neck crack, too. 

Too much time seems to pass for Honey, because she takes a deep breath. Trevor can practically hear the eye roll. “You guys are so annoying. Bea– you want a hug and I’m not there to give one to you. Trevor’s there. Trevor– you love a cuddle and you’d be equally as upset if you had to deal with Ryan Reynolds showing you up, even though his relationship with me is long dead. Not that that’s what Liv is doing,” she clarifies. “Quinn likes you too, Bea. Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help it,” Bea whines. “You’re the same way, Honey.”

Honey slows her speech. “Calm down. Take a break from all of this for a minute. Give Trevor a hug and then go enjoy your birthday. I will see you in a couple hours and I’ll give you a hug then, okay?”

“Okay,” Bea agrees miserably. 

“Okay,” Honey repeats. “I’m hanging up now. I’m trying to bake a cake and you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“Sorry,” Bea apologizes, going back to gnawing on her bottom lip. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Hug Trevor. I hope you feel better, babe.”

Honey hangs up and Bea returns Trevor’s phone to his hand. She looks up at him from under her eyelashes reluctantly, wincing a bit. “I didn’t expect you to hear that much. Didn’t realize we’d be getting so deep on my birthday.”

Trevor shrugs. “It’s okay.”

Bea twists her hands together awkwardly. “We don’t have to hug.”

“Well, Honey said so,” Trevor replies. 

Bea laughs. “Trev, I know you’re, like, in love with her, but you don’t have to do everything she says.”

Trevor feels his face grow red. “‘m not in love with her,” he mumbles. “I just–” He shakes his head with a breath and stops himself. “I think she’s right. She thinks you need a hug, so I’ll give you a hug. She’s smart, we should listen to her.”

Bea rolls her eyes, then shifts on the bed and leans into Trevor’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her tightly against his torso before releasing her. It’s a brief hug, and not a full one, but it seems to be fine for now. Honey can give Bea a real hug later.

“Do you think she was right about all of it?” Bea asks when they break apart. She itches the tip of her nose with her knuckle. 

Trevor makes a nonchalant noise, trying to decide what to say. “What, uh, part? All of her advice was good.”

Bea scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re not biased at all.” She pauses, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s about to ask. “Just– the break part. Should I take a break? Is that even what she meant?” She scrunches her face up and Trevor is surprised that she’s actually asking his opinion. She came in here to talk to Honey, but now that Honey’s gone, she’s still talking to him. 

So, Trevor thinks on it. “I think… I don’t think it could hurt,” he tells Bea. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Leaving Quinn alone for a couple of days might help you figure out what you want.”

Bea nods tentatively. “Okay,” she says. “I– yeah, I guess. Might as well try it, right?”

Trevor nods. “You guys are good, though,” he offers. It’s a weak statement. “You’re not the same as Liv. He seems happier with you.”

Bea forces a tight smile onto her face. “Thanks, Trev.”

A silence falls between them for a beat. 

Bea breaks it. “We should probably get ready for church.” Her eyes fall to Trevor’s chest and she grimaces, judging him. “You’re underdressed, I think.”

Trevor falls back into their normal dynamic at her words, reacting with apt defense for himself. “Dude, you’re the one who charged in here.”

“Well, I was in crisis.”

“Okay, well, don’t let Quinn see you leaving my room so early in the morning in your pajamas,” Trevor sasses. “I think that’ll make your crisis worse.”

Bea climbs off the bed. “You might be patient zero of the sassy man apocalypse,” Bea snaps, although Trevor can tell that they’re still joking with each other. “And that’s not a compliment.”

With that, she leaves the room.

Annoyed that he didn’t get the last word, Trevor grumbles to himself while he gets ready for the day. He goes through the motions at church, side-eying Bea throughout the mass and checking his watch and phone as often as he can without the Litchton residents calling him out for being disrespectful in “the Lord’s house.”

It’s happened before, just once. That was when he was in the parking lot after mass was over– so Trevor can’t imagine how they’d feel about seeing his phone in the middle of something so sacred to them. He’s willing to risk it, but only because he’s itching to see Honey. Now that they’re together, in a sense, Trevor can barely stay away from her for more than a few hours. He’ll do it if he has to, but God, he doesn’t want to.

Even once they make it through church and head to lunch, drawing closer to Honey, Trevor doesn’t miss the way that Bea brushes Quinn off as nonchalantly as she can. She doesn’t want to make a deal of it and it’s making Quinn more and more quiet throughout the day. He holds the door for Bea, but they sit on opposite ends of the table at lunch. Quinn doesn’t even hand over the little square box that he spent so long trying to wrap perfectly when Honey reveals her present and Bea’s cake. 

It’s too late to go back now, but Trevor is starting to wonder if he should’ve advised Bea to take a break at all. She and Quinn look out of place, looking away from each other whenever their eyes meet. Yet, they can’t seem to ignore the other. They’re always trying to sneak glances and they always look seconds away from calling out to the other before looking down, which is when the other person will sneak their peek and the process repeats.

It’s sad, really. Trevor feels bad. This probably wasn’t how Bea wanted her birthday to go. At least she got a hug from Honey, though, as promised.

In brighter news, Trevor is able to sneak a kiss with Honey when they pass each other in the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It’s a quick peck, but it leaves Trevor smiling stupidly for the rest of the meal. 

[xoxo-sarah]

ugh daryl or rick x reader but the reader is reading shy and they yell at the reader and the reader cries 😣😣 but comfort and stuff

Bunny

↝a/n: not really sure if this lives up to your expectations, but this is the first time I've written for TWD openly.

↝pairing: platonic!Daryl Dixon x reader

↝ Warning: reader getting yelled at, mention of Carl's death, reader's nickname is Bunny (platonically!), not proofread

↝⎙ 4.30.23

You were walking behind Daryl, talking his ear off about the comic you had found in an old, broken down store. You hadn't really realized how much you were talking and who you were talking to. Carl used to listen to you ramble on and on about the comics, but he saw where you came from. Daryl had never been one for them. A squirrel crawling up a tree caught his attention. He brought his bow up, aiming until you went through one of your fits, your voice going up an octave as you got excited. The squirrel scurried off.

Daryl had swung around, glaring at you through his eyelids. "Do ya ever shut up? There just went our dinner because you can't be quiet about a stupid comic book!" He had never raised his voice at you. Sure, you've seen him angry, but it was never directed towards you. He saw you as his own, never wanting to hurt you.

"Bunny,"

"Fuck you." Any trace of a tear was gone, replaced by a straight face. You walked right past him, in the direction that the squirrel had gone off to.

He went after you, kicking himself. He knew you hated getting yelled at. It was like an off switch for you. All excitement had been drained from your eyes.

He waited, giving you space, where you weren't in his line of sight, but he could track where you went, seeing your footprints in the dirt.

As he was walking, he stared at the ground until your shoes were in front of his. He looked up, seeing you holding the dead squirrel by its back legs. "Here's dinner, asshole." He caught the squirrel as you threw it.

Daryl watched your face as you looked deep into the flames of the small campfire he had made to cook the meat of the squirrel and keep you warm in the Autumn night air.

"Bunny, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at ya. I just hadn't found any food for ya and when I did, it ran away."

Daryl has never been one to apologize, but always been one to grumble and mumble back. But he couldn't just let you off thinking he wasn't sorry. He wouldn't be able to live if something were to happen to you and you ended up thinking he wasn't sorry. He'd blame himself for yet another death.

"Whatever."

"Don't do that." It's the teen angst, he had to remind himself. Carl went through it, he knew. "Don't 'whatever' me, damnit." There wasn't any fire behind the curse, he almost sounded desperate for you to know he didn't mean it. He felt it was his fatherly duty to keep you alive, feed you.

"It's okay, Daryl, really. I get it." Your facade disappeared, along with your posture. Your body folded in on itself, knees to your chest. "I just don't have anyone to talk to about them, anymore, ya know."

After Carl died, it was as if your world crumbled. He was like a big brother to you, and now he is gone.

You felt arms around you, bringing you into a hug. The warmth around you was comforting but it was new. He had never hugged you before. It was a fatherly hug, one he wished would take all the negative thoughts away; one to fix everything that has ever gone wrong. "Well this is a first."

He pulled back slightly, halfheartedly glaring at you as he grumbled. "Not a word to anybody, got it?"

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

[sempersirens]

sun bleached flies | four

masterlist

chapter summary: joel seeks to make amends the only way joel knows how: messily

warnings: 18+, mdni. previous dark!joel/raider!joel. mention of ptsd, nightmares, some sexist/misogynistic comments, lotsa swearing, nihilism, alcohol & bad decisions.

a/n: hello! as you may know, i paused this series for a little while after receiving some comments about the content of this story. i was quite upset and reactive upon first seeing the comments and instantly pulled the series in order to give myself some time to consider whether i wanted to carry on. but, as is obvious, i really do not care anymore. i put detailed warnings before each chapter so everyone knows what they're getting into. if this isn't for you, that's okay! don't read! alas. thank you SO much to all of you who continue to read my silly little stories and send me such kind messages, reblog, and like. i love and cherish you ALL. this chapter is very much giving "it's the drama, mick. i love it.”

Joel's POV

In the movies about the end of the world, humanity always seemed so vulnerable. Not so much in the way that people would be literally picked off one by one by hordes of undead, but there was always the feeling that it took the end of the world for the human race to finally become their true selves. As if the worst of times brought out the best of people.

Joel had hated that trope. Whenever he, Tommy and Sarah picked out a zombie movie at Blockbuster on a Friday night they opted for the most gory, gruesome option on the shelf. They would simultaneously roll their eyes at any cheesy line snuck into the dialogue mid-fight scene - apart from Tommy, who would wipe his bleary eyes with the back of his sleeve in the hope that nobody had seen.

Sat amidst that gathering of lost survivors, each searching for some semblance of safety in the dire form of group therapy, Joel had perhaps for the first time in his life seen true, raw emotion reflecting in your eyes. You had always seemed so composed during your brief but sharp run-ins with one another, but this evening was different.

He'd watched your cheeks turn pink when the idiot stood at the front of the group prompted you to share your story. The way you unravelled speaking about Mia, it was as if your facade had shifted ever so slightly - perhaps even accidentally - because as soon as you realised your mask was slipping, you snatched it straight back and regained composure. Like she was your Achilles heel, the only thing in this world that could bring your walls tumbling down.

Joel had tried to follow you after the session to get you alone to talk about - he didn't even know what. He just knew was the right thing to do, and he had made a promise to himself to start following that gut feeling for once. But he had been trapped by his row of slow-moving attendees with little sense of urgency and menial small talk, and you were long gone by the time he had escaped the barricades of plastic chairs.

You'd had a child, his child. A child he had no right to see, and wasn't even sure if he wanted to see. How could he look her in the eye knowing the reason she had been brought into this world, knowing he had even let such a thing happen, to bring something so small and innocent into such a plagued existence?

A lot of things kept Joel up at night; too many things to count. The fire of bullets before feeling the limpness of Sarah's body in his arms. The mocking song of defeat, noise constantly muffled in his eardrums that reminded him of that damn flinch. Ellie's small body collapsing into his still-weak chest, fresh blood coating her pale skin. The smell of the burning building in their wake.

It was worse when the dreams reminded him of his own cruelty. Settlements raided and burned to the ground. Blades pressed through temples in the dead of night.

And then there was you.

He had stumbled upon you at the peak of his inhumanity. He wanted to blame it on being around the other raiders for so long, that the things he had only ever been a bystander for had finally seeped into his skin and corrupted him. He wished he could reject all of the shame and responsibility as an unconscious action of muscle memory.

When he saw you standing in your kitchen passing his brother a bottle of beer like it was the most mundane action, he thought his subconscious was punishing him again; like his first day in Jackson, when he'd dared to drop his shoulders ever so slightly at the sight of a woman he let himself believe to be Sarah. For that second all logic evaded him, all he could think was that his little girl was alive and well right before him. As if it had all been a bad dream and she would turn to face him like it had only been an hour at most since they'd been apart.

It took just as much time for his brain to remind him he was really seeing you and not another one of his nightmares. Despite the briefness of your encounter all those years ago, he would've known you anywhere. Even if he'd wanted to forget you, his brain wouldn't let him.

You had every right to despise him, to out him to his brother and the entirety of Jackson. Not only had he taken advantage of your vulnerability, he'd failed at the one measly promise he had made you in exchange.

His biggest regret manifested as a Bambi-eyed little girl staring up at him as if he were a stranger. Which in truth, he was.

It was still early when Joel returned home to an empty house. Ellie was staying the night at a friend's, Dina, or something. Tommy and Maria had reassured him that she was a good kid and it would do Ellie some good making friends if they planned on staying in Jackson for the foreseeable future.

So, he retired to bed and tried to disappear underneath the thin duvet in the hope of dreamless sleep.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, your feeble voice from earlier ricocheting through his ears, he admitted defeat.

One thing Joel appreciated about Jackson was the lenient opening hours of the Tipsy Bison. Something he didn't appreciate, however, was how the entirety of Jackson's male population seemed to think the same thing.

"Joel," Tommy called across the room as Joel entered the bar.

For god's sake, Joel muttered under his breath, all hope of a peaceful glass of whiskey dissipating at the sight of his little brother waving him over.

"What you doin' here so late?" Tommy questioned, trying to decipher whether Joel had seen through his suggestion of attending the support group.

"Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd make good of this... fine establishment." Joel replied as Tommy signalled to the bartender for two more of whatever he had already been drinking.

Two men Joel hadn't met yet were seated on either side of Tommy, and he didn't care to be introduced to them either.

"You go to that meetin' I told you about?" Tommy was never good at being discreet, making the situation sound more like Joel was eliciting some kind of drug run rather than going to a damn trauma support group.

"I did," the bartender placed a glass of whiskey on the table in front of Joel. "Saw your girl there."

"Oh yeah, she goes every week. How was she?" Tommy's face lit up at the mention of you.

"S'fine. Don't think she likes me very much."

Joel took a swig of his drink as one of the other men chirped up, questioning whether the topic of conversation was about you.

"She's my patrol partner sometimes. Doesn't like anybody very much, don't take it to heart."

"That so?" Joel mused, twirling the glass around in his fingers.

"Spends most of her time with her kid, and if not her, then she's with our Tommy and his Maria. Reckon they're all that's good enough for her in this town."

"Now, don't put yourself down like that, Keith. She's just a private gal, that's all." Tommy reassured the man to his left, earning a raised eyebrow in response.

"Hopefully not that private, I'm takin' her for a drink tomorrow night." Now the man on Tommy's right spoke up.

Joel felt his grip tighten around the glass, his eyes narrowing on the tall but weak-looking man sitting across from him.

"Well I'll be damned," Tommy laughed. "Y'finally wore her down, huh?"

"Other way round, really. I gave into her asking and asking."

"Now, now, Greg. She's a good girl, you better look after her."

"Yeah, really look after her, Greg. Be doin' us all a favour, might put a smile on her face for once." Keith added.

"C'mon now, boys. She's like a sister to me, don't be talkin' about her like that." Tommy grimaced slightly, which soon turned to a snort. He always did lose his backbone after a couple of drinks.

"Like any of you would say that to her face." Joel scoffed, taking a sip of his drink to stop him for saying anymore.

God knows why, but Joel felt defensive over you. Listening to the way Tommy was allowing his friends to speak on you made his blood boil. He could hear thumping in his eardrums, waving his hand in the general direction of the bartender for another glass of whiskey.

"They're just playing, Joel. She can be kinda icy to say the least."

"Yeah, why d'you think that is, Tommy? She's got a damn kid to look after, all on her own."

"I didn't realise you knew her so well." Greg retorted, his face looking more and more punchable by the second.

"I didn't know you were keepin' tabs on my life, who I know and who I don't." Joel spat back with a little too much vim in his voice.

The bartender replaced Joel's empty glass with a filled one, which he knocked back without a second thought before rising in his seat and slamming the glass back on the table.

He turned to leave, feeling the warmth of the alcohol settling in his chest.

"The hell was that all about?" Tommy had followed him outside.

"What?" Joel barked in response, turning to face his brother.

"In there, you gettin' all wound up over nothin'."

"Nothing? You said that girl's like your sister, yet you let them speak on her like that?"

"Oh c'mon, Joel. They're idiots I know, but they're harmless. What's it to you, anyhow?"

"I just thought you were better than that, Tommy."

"You're being crazy. Go home, Joel."

"Where d'you think I'm fuckin' going?"

He waved Tommy away, turning to walk back to his place. However, he didn't want to go home yet. He let his feet take him in the direction of your house, instead.

It wasn't too late, but he still knocked lightly on the front door so as to not wake Mia. He heard some shuffling from inside before the door creaked open.

"Jesus Christ." You breathed.

"Not quite."

"What the fuck do you want, Joel? Why do you keep showing up here?" You demanded, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door softly behind you.

"You know why, we have shit to talk about."

You scoffed and pushed your shoulders back, the smell of alcohol from Joel's breath making the thought process for his surprise visit clear.

"We have nothing to talk about. You. Are. Not. Welcome. Here."

"They were all in the Bison, just know, those pricks from patrol. Greg or whatever, talkin' shit about you. I couldn't stand it."

"Oh, please. What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and thank you for defending my honour?"

"No- not at all. Just don't want you wastin' your time with them when they don't respect you."

"And you do? Respect me?"

Joel couldn't find the words to respond. Everything came flooding over him at once.

"Please, I- I wanna see her."

He surprised even himself at the words that left his mouth, however, you didn't seem surprised. Your eyes narrowed while his widened, watching you take a step toward him, closing the gap between you both.

“Joel, I don’t think you understood at all. Why would I want you near her, when you’re the exact kind of man I'm trying to protect her from?”

taglist: apparently my tags don't always work so fingers crossed these come thru? sorry if i forgot anybody - if you want to be added/removed please lmk! @warm-tea-and-otp @mrsquill @ashleymsnodgrass @bluetattoos @mabermaple @hiroikegawa @casssiopeia @joeldjarin @southernbe @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @cool-iguana @drewharrisonwriter @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @randomhoex @ilovepedro @koshkaj-blog @ejuliet999 @love-the-abyss @jellybeanxc @mabermaple @radsanchez @powellssaturn @ok-boke @phoebe13 @ahintofkiwistrawberry @smexy-bucky-waifu @withasideofmeg @darkroastjoel @willowsvalley @forestfaeriequeen @radsanchez @moonlightdivine @noisynightmarepoetry @mysingularitybts @misshoneypaper @ezzynf @spideyyhoe @runningmom94 @disassociation-daydreams @serendipity22086 @lionlena @shotgun-shelby @daddy-din @dins-riduur-anthe @phoebe13 @bageldaddy

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part seven

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

a/n: heyyy y'all little update, i just started school again for the fall and it is already a LOT. i'm surprised i got this out but i'm really glad i did!! i miss them :(

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

Walking on eggshells around Billy has been a minor yet effective form of torture. You stopped singing for him, and he stopped asking. He still attended your shows, but you can't help but believe it's out of obligation.

It's endlessly confusing. When you first met he had most definitely been hitting on you, unless you were misreading that. You're rethinking every decision you've ever made because he won't talk to you anymore. Well, he does, of course, but it's small talk, mostly. It feels like you constructed a brick wall between you even though it was his fault for reading your stupid notebook in the first place. Every time you thought about it, you spiraled back to anger again.

It doesn't help that you're staring at his back as you lead your horses into a new town, wordlessly having cycled back East this week considering your savings were starting to get close to what you needed. Soon, or maybe even on the way to Michigan, you'd be able to make enough to get your family back.

You force yourself to look away from the way his body sways on the horse, your jaw tightening as you take in your surroundings in a new city. Without discussing it, the two of you cycle a fair distance around the schoolhouse on the edge of town, the old fence falling and tipping over in several places from years of children climbing all over it.

There are children playing outside currently, and you smile despite your foul mood. You missed your family. Those kids, Josie and Harvey and Sarah, and you remember talking about sending them to school once you and Max could finally afford a more permanent place for the five of you to stay. But that day never came.

Billy is lost in his own thoughts, mostly swallowed by the tension in the air that had enveloped you both for over a week now. He just doesn't know what to say, what to do, he wants to apologize but he doesn't want to risk what comes next. As long as you're here, as long as you're still with him, he's willing to suffer the silence.

Silence that's broken when he hears you gasp and shuffle, and as soon as you stumble down from your horse, he's got his gun out ready to stop anyone who's startled you. But you don't seem scared.

You're clambering off the ground from where you fell in your haste to dismount, and sprinting toward the fence of the schoolhouse with your guitar case discarded like it was nothing on the ground behind you.

"Harvey! Harvey!" You call out the boys name as you run to the boy you swore was for all intents and purposes, your little brother, and when he turns his head, you're even more sure it's him.

He hops the fence to meet you and you're crashing into each other, falling on your knees as you catch him.

He smells different, cleaner, and he's dressed in clothes you had never seen, but it's him- and you bury your face in his hair as he clings to you. The last time you held him like this was the night Max was killed.

You don't realize you're crying until you lift your head again, gently grabbing the boy's chin to raise it and get a good look at him. "Oh, honey, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you guys, I never stopped looking, I'm coming to get all of you." You say, brushing your thumb over his round cheeks.

He doesn't answer, and you don't think he can. You just smile, pulling him close again and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I missed you, I missed you so much." You mutter into his skin, rubbing his back and holding him close to you. You'd never let him go.

Looking around at the rest of the kids watching the scene from the other side of the fence, you don't see Josie anywhere.

You hesitate for a moment before asking. "Where's Josie?"

Harvey shakes his head against you. "I don't know." He answers quietly, and your heart breaks more.

You were thrilled to see him, to see he was okay, but realization comes crashing over you and chills your bones in an instant.

They'd been separated. Adopted out, and there's no way of knowing where she is or if she's safe.

"And Sarah?" You ask, attempting to steady your voice.

Another small head shake against you. "They were both still there."

"Okay, okay..." You say, gently stroking his hair. "I'll get 'em, and if they're not there I'll find 'em, okay? And we'll all be together again, I promise. I been savin' up, I'm gonna get all of you back. I swear. It'll be okay."

You hear Billy's footsteps behind you, having just dismounted his horse and grabbed yours in his hurry to catch up. "Hey, doll, maybe we should be goin'." He says, a slight warning in his tone.

You look up past Harvey, seeing what must be a teacher coming out of the schoolhouse likely to scold you for grabbing one of the children. But she didn't know, she didn't understand- he was your brother, essentially your child, your responsibility in every form except for flesh and blood.

Harvey looks as well, before turning back to you and hugging you tighter. "I love you." He mumbles into your shirt, no doubt tearfully.

You kiss the top of his head.

"I'll be back for you. I promise." You whisper before letting him go again.

You couldn't stray far after that. You found somewhere that would let you play locally, and you used the first few shows to ask locals about Harvey as much as you could. You needed to know where he was living and who had taken him from Sarah and Josie, and you had gotten much of the same answers. The little boy, new in Crystal City, had been adopted by a kind older couple on a homestead outside of town. The Booker's were well-loved by everyone, it seemed, pillars of the community who had been around their entire lives. She used to be a teacher, and he once worked at the general store. Still does, sometimes, but they had never had children of their own despite their desire to.

Apparently, it had taken them ages to save up to make the long trip to Michigan- the woman had a cousin who lived just down the street from the orphanage you had been raised. The smallness of the world was both a blessing to you and a curse. A little boy would be a tremendous help around their home now that they were getting older, and they could love him as their own and keep him warm at night.

You knew, in theory, that you should be happy with these reviews. That they were good people, and Harvey was safe with them. But he wasn't with you. He wasn't with Max, or Sarah, or even Josie, and it hurt more than you cared to admit that he wasn't with his real family. The Booker's would never know him the way you did, couldn't sing him to sleep or teach him to write music and play the guitar the way you can.

Your fingers stray on the chord you're running, making a dissonant sound chime in the almost empty bar you were warming up in. You cringe, shaking your head and sighing as you relax your grip on the instrument. There was no use worrying about Harvey and the others now, if you couldn't play worth your salt, you'd never save up enough to get the girls back. You couldn't get him back if you weren't playing your best. Thank god the barkeep was the only one around to hear your mistake. It was minor, but you felt like it could cost you your life. Your show had to be perfect.

Shaking out your hands and cracking your knuckles, you're about to get back to practicing when the front gates of the saloon are shoved open, made louder by the force of the wind. It was a tempest afternoon, and you were starting to worry that despite the revelry your name had developed over the last few months, traveling and performing for anyone who would watch, that tonight you wouldn't make much in tips if it developed into a full-blown storm and no one could even make it to the show.

"We gotta go. Come on." Billy's saying quickly, practically running up to you from the front doors.

"What? What's going on?" You can hear the distress in his voice, making your eyes go wide as you stand up from the stool you had borrowed from the bar to drag up into the cleared area they had made into a stage.

He yanks your guitar from your hands and shoves it into the case, trying his best to be gentle in his haste. "Twister's comin', we gotta get somewhere safer. Find a cellar or somethin'."

"Doesn't the bar have one? I-"

"No, it doesn't, I checked. Come on. Let's get you out of here." Before you can say a thing, not that you'd know what to say, he's grabbing you by the hand and pulling you back out the doors with your guitar case gripped tight in his other hand.

You're holding tight onto your journal as the wind whips your hair into your face and the back behind you in the same second, giving you the chance to look out off the porch of the saloon and out to the west of town beyond the few buildings on the street.

It's like the air is sucked out of your lungs when you see the sky, a twisted yellow and green tint to it that falls over everything and tints the world in an unfamiliar way.

"Come on!" Billy shouts, not giving you time to bask in the sick quiet of it all as he tugs on your hand again, trying to pull you in the direction of the residences up the hill. It was about a mile away, if memory served, but closer than that was where Harvey was staying if you took a left off the main road and down a side path leading straight to the Booker's home.

You follow him, letting him lead you over to the horses you had tied up outside, which were clearly anxious from the storm.

You watch the sky again as Billy makes quick work of untying them both and throwing the flimsy rope on your guitar case over his shoulder, letting the more restless of the two animals take off running. He would find you another horse later, he thinks, as he grabs onto your hips and lifts you quickly into the saddle of the one he kept a grip on.

You snap out of your daze, adjusting quickly and holding on as he climbs up behind you and reaches around you for the reins. He doesn't waste a second, snapping the leather cord and kicking the horse's side to get you moving away from the main strip and up towards the residential area.

"We have to go for Harvey!" You shout over the wind, lifting one arm to cover your mouth and nose from the wind that's keeping you from getting enough air. "Left, up here!" You point at the almost indistinguishable trail, and Billy doesn't ask any questions as he follows your direction.

It takes longer than Billy would have liked for you to reach the house beyond a small forest and nestled in a field, a small cozy cabin drenched in the rain that started to pour. A sign you weren't outrunning this tornado as well as he may have hoped. You hurriedly hop down from the horse and keep your arm over your face as you run for the door, pounding on it hopelessly.

"Harvey! You in there?" You shout, moving quickly on to looking in windows that stutter and shake from the force of the wind when there's no immediate answer, not that you'd be able to hear if there was. "Harvey!"

Then Billy is grabbing your arm again, pulling you off the porch. "This way! They must be in the cellar!"

It made sense, it was smart of him to look for that first, but you couldn't think straight at the moment. You knew tornadoes were common in this area, often deadly in Missouri, but you'd never encountered one before like the one creeping up on the town that you could see in the distance through the field.

The cellar on the Booker's property was entered through a barn near the house, the front door of which was already open from Billy busting it open a moment ago before coming back for you. It's dark, mostly, the light seeping in from the door behind you as Billy pushes you in ahead of himself.

You're so overwhelmed, so scared as you stick as close to Billy as you can, that you don't notice there's someone standing in the open barn until you hear the click of a gun loading over the creaking of the unsteady barn in the wind. The last time you heard that sound, your best friend was shot dead moments later, and the fear that pulsed through your veins felt like a tangible substance- like the liquid felt thicker, heavier; weighting you onto the spot where you stood and holding you there.

"Hey, woah, we didn't mean to startle you, we just-" Billy says, taking a step in front of you and holding you back with one arm, his other hand raised defensively.

"Don't move," The man spits, and you peek over Billy's shoulder, gripping onto the back of his sweater. That must be Elliot Booker. "I know who you are." He continues, and your heart drops.

"O-okay, well, it's, it's nice to meet you, I-" You assume he was talking to you, talking about how you're Harvey's "real" family.

"We got a kid down there, I'm not lettin' you get a step closer. You best be gettin' out of here." As he speaks, he doesn't even spare you a glance. His eyes are locked on Billy.

You're confused, but neither of the men in front of you seem to be. Billy's expression hardens, you can see it in the slight tense of his jaw as he keeps the back of his hand on your waist behind himself, making sure you're still there.

"We need some place to shelter, that storm is comin' in quick. She's a friend of your kid's. If you won't take me, let her in with you." Billy says, nodding back over his shoulder toward you.

You glance back at the door as the wind roars behind you, swinging the door wide open again. Despite everything that was going on or not going on between you and Billy, you weren't going without him. You cared that much, and apparently, he still did too.

"Mister Booker, please, I know this isn't the best way for us to meet, but-" You try to cut in but he isn't having it, loading the rifle and aiming it at you again as you take a step out from behind Billy to the side.

By the time he's done cocking the gun in your direction Billy's own pistol is out as well. You didn't even hear him move, but it was loaded before you could turn your head to look at it.

"If you know who I am, you'll know that shooting her is far from a smart move." He says through gritted teeth, and you can tell he means it based only on that heavy feeling returning and pinning you in place as he corrects himself to stand in front of you again. "You'll be dead before the first hair on her head hits the ground, you hear me?"

Mr. Booker's grip on the rifle remains firm, and he doesn't back down. You don't even know what's going on, you can't even begin to process or try and understand what Billy meant by that besides the obvious.

"If you know who I am..."

You look up at the back of Billy's head and the hat you'd worn a handful of times over the last several months when the sun was a little too bright or too hot on your skin, and where the frayed old rope tied to your guitar case still held it over his shoulder, the rope rubbing red into the skin of his neck. His broad shoulders that you'd dreamt of running your hands over but had only done so when he was helping you up onto the horse he had got for you with a good deal, exchanged for an afternoons work on a ranch somewhere in Texas, and out of nowhere, you don't think you know him.

But you do. You know he lost his family and his best friend like you did, and you know where he went to sleep on nights he couldn't stomach being under the same roof as his mother's awful husband. You know how his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and that he doesn't shave often and he doesn't need to. You know his favourite songs, and you know he can kind of play the guitar and with practice and your help he's getting better. You know he likes to sing too, though he doesn't admit it. You thought you knew he was a good man.

"You're lucky I haven't shot you yet to turn in your body tomorrow." The man responds after what feels like an eternity, and you're hardly sure you can hear anything anymore. "Go."

Billy keeps his eyes and his gun trained on Harvey's new caretaker as he pushes you slowly back toward the door, out into the storm again.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have recommendations for sterek fics where people don't believe stiles is dating derek despite him saying he is? like, ones where they're not in the same friend groups, or even au's where derek doesn't go to the school anymore, etc.

AND

fastfadingfiction asked:

Hello. I was wondering if you knew of any fics where no one believes that Derek and Stiles are dating/married. Particularly ones where Derek is rich/famous/or out of Stile's league. I wrote one like this but, I love this fic idea and would love to read more like it. Thank you!

Sure.

Derek the Cat by SterekGirl (Scribes23) 

(1/1 | 1,577 | Teen)

Whenever college drummer, Stiles Stilinski says he has a boyfriend, Derek Hale, no one believes him. Because saying Derek Hale voted hottest man of the year 2015 and vocalist of the band of the year was too far fetch. Right? Right.

And probably because Stiles owns a cat named Derek Hale too.[Sterek Version]

The Tale of Stiles Stilinski and His (Non)Existent Boyfriend, Derek Hale by mackietommo 

(1/1 | 2,976 | General)

“But, Derek –”

“Stiles,” she sighs. “Look, I know we kind of supported you with your whole… Derek Hale, The Perfect Boyfriend Fairy Tale. But, you seriously need to date real people.”

“What,” Stiles says, with no question mark. “You think Derek is not real?”

She looks at him like he’s stupid. “Yes,”

Stiles slumps in his seat.

or in which none of Stiles’ college friends believe Derek Hale is fucking real. But, Erica has a plan. And this is just really about the whole pack loves Stiles.

(Not so) Out of His League by har1ey_quinn

 (1/1 | 3,588 | General)

Sarah, however, knew better (or at least, now she did). It wasn’t until she was head TA (because it meant she had to go to all the lectures) that she actually got to meet the lucky person who managed to put a ring on Professor Hale’s finger. It was possibly one of the most embarrassing moment in her life (definitely in the top three), because she had pretty much insinuated that Professor Hale was so completely out of anyone’s league, she couldn’t believe a student, no less, was married to him.

[zabala0z]

S3 is once again killing me again with all the lore and I love it. School started up so I might be slower with my thoughts but I got episodes 92, 93, 94 and 95 to talk about!!!

MAG 92: Nothing Beside Remains

Elias makes me want to eat my phone, similar to that one guy from MAG 65 :) I was like screaming the whole time. Of course he can see everything, he literally called the police before Daisy came. I took that as "oh he has spies" but no he can see everything, I hate that. Is Jon eventually gonna get that ability or does The Eye give different gifts. Elias hasn't shown any "compellling" sort of power so I assume the latter. ALSO MORDECAI LUKAS?? I need to see a statement from a Lukas member cause what is up with that family, I'm dying.

Guess Basira is now working there. Hope Elias is paying her. the fact he won't tell Jon shit is so funny to me. So The Stranger is now, basically, the confirmed main villain. BBEG yknow? Mildly terrified, I hate circuses and mannequins so this season is gonna like body me

Not much to say on MAG 93 but whatever entity has the whole "gross shit" as its deal, I'm guessing this falls under it. Purple fungus, the obsessive cleaning, etc. Also yaaay Breekon and Hopes!! Again!11!! get out! Poor Georgie. Love her for being like "Do you even have qualifications??". Jons explanation helped me a lot because during Elias's explanations, I'm mostly just muttering curses to myself because I HATE Him. Avatars. Baller. So Jude Perry was the avatar of The Desolation (destruction, fire, etc) Michael Crew was the avatar of The Vast (sky??, emptiness, general loneliness) and then like Jon is an avatar and I'm guessing so is Elias. I think you can have more then one avatar but anyways.

MAG 94: Dead Woman Walking

Jon refereed to the entity as "The End" which, using my notes, was mentioned in Mary keys statement when gertrude asked where the book came from and Mary said "The End" and said she could never serve it, not finding death interesting. Wild that she can't feel fear anymore??? Like damn. This kinda read as someone in a depressive state in some form. Or like a nihilistic person. Cause like "everything ends, time, it has already ended". Wild.

Not much to say on MAG 95 but I did understand the context vaguely which is more then what I can say for the other war statements. Also Martin and Basira friendship??? Love it. She gets really engrossed in books. I dunno if she was like lying or this is something supernatural related but I love Basira

MAG 96: Return to Sender

Literally screeching oh my god. The fact these things just hijacked this mans business is almost funny. They also talked with a circus ringmaster. Nikola Orsinov? gregor Orsinov? A different one. the statement was given 1996 and Gregor was the leader around the 40's but Nikola, by her description I think, sounded young. So. Who was this ringmaster? Maybe Im getting the timeframe wrong. or they're like eternal. Maybe they like just shed skin and steal a new body, just going by the same last name- okay I don't know.

Also, SARAH BALDWIN???? Welcome back girl. The fact the gorilla skin was stolen by gertrude means she was trying to stop The Unknowing, and likely that's why its been this long for it to happen, because they need that skin. Ew. The Stranger loves skin a little too much. Also Sarah being filled with sawdust and cloves. Great. If Not Sasha was shot, would we have seen that? Or is it different with every one of those, NotThem.?

Anyways, I think that's everything. Every statement, I'm kinda thinking, "which entity does this fall under" now that I know the surrounding universe. Tough since I only know 6 by name and I think there's more. 6 too many entities for this world though

[vitzi9]

hii, you could write more about yandere-obsessive ethan who likes to ruin the relationships (whether romantic and friendship) of the reader, because he likes to have her all to himself😇

You ruined everything !

Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Masterlist if you want to read my other things. Sequel (?) Of the draft But you said it was free !

TW/CW: kinda bad friends, forced kiss/contact so agression, reader is really vulgar and curse a lot, breaking in, voyeursim.

Sarah and Connor are your friends. I invented them for the plot.

This look shitty compared to everything I wrote until now, but like really. I feel like there is too much dialogue. Seriously, if you have any constructive criticism i take it, i dont know what to change, what to imrove. I need feedback to improve. I have the impression it's too repetitive. (21/07/2023) (6168 words)

Ethan Landry kissed you. You couldn't quite proceed the information even hours later. You were reading in the peacefulness of the library and Ethan Landry sat on your thights and kissed you right before your crush's eyes.

They saw everything and were now avoiding you.

It was hours ago, now, still, you didn't go to your next class after that. You spent a hour searching for your crush. You called them mutilples times on your phone and yet they never answered. What is going on ? You kept asking yourself. Wanting to calm down, you scurried in the school's bathroom. There shouldn't be a lot of people at this hour of the day. This way, you could think of what to tell your crush.

Is that an agression ? It should be, one, right ? He kissed you withtout your consent so it probably is.

You push the door and sigh from happiness in seeing you were alone. You wet your hands under the faucet and throw the water at your face to freshen up. It felt good to not be burning from the inside anymore. You were thinking so much you were sure your brain would explode.

You lean your hands on the sink tightly, holding you up right. Your eyes were closed, feeling each drop of water sliding down your face. You needed to be calm.

You practice breath exercises to release the pressure. It's gonna be okay, you rationalize. You'll talk it out. Yeah, they don't want to see you anymore but you'll convince them. You've been talking for months ! They'll believe you.

You look at yourself in the bathroom's mirror and sigh deeply. Ethan Landry, if you catch him, he's a dead man. You close your eyes once again before deciding to wet your face one more time. It felt really good. You wetted your neck too to cool your body.

For a short moment, you forget about the big argument you'll inevitably have with your crush. It was a short moment because while you were in your own world, someone entered the bathroom and two big arms caged you against a warm body.

You're startled, jumping away from the person but they tighten their hold. Looking in the mirror, you're met with the face of Ethan, laying his forehead against your neck as if stealing the humidity of your freshly wet body.

You push him away. He finally lets you go with a scowl on his face. The audactiy ! He's the one fucking assaulting you and then he pretends to be disappointed !

"What is wrong with you ! you yell.

First the kiss and now that ? He fidgets with his hands, as if nervous and you don't understand why.

-You looked sad, I just wanted to... you cut him off.

-Sad ? I'm gonna kill you !"

He frowns his brows and shake his head. Suddenly looking very serious.

-I don't want to argue with you." he says. With these last words, Ethan leave the bathroom to avoid any argument. Enraged, you follow him. He was fast so you pratically ran after him. When you arrive at his side you push him violently to the side. He stops in his tracks but doesn't move.

"Look at me !" but he doesn't listen and keep his eyes on the ground.

To force him, you pin him against the wall. Normally, you wouldn't be able to pin him like you did as Ethan is quite tall and heavy. But he was submissive to your touch. He was allowing you to do everyting you wanted. That was gross, he really was weird.

"You're gonna tell me what is your problem and why do you want to destroy my life so damn hard ?

-I don't want to destroy your life. I want to make it better.

-Better ? Do you think it looks fucking better ? Because I'm sure it doesn't !"

Ethan looks over your shoulder and smile. You can't understand anything before he closes his arms around your body and engulfes you in his body. You were going to yell at him when his lips shut you up.

He's doing it again !

His hands roam your back slowly, grazing too closely your ass to your liking. You try to make him let you go by pushing at his chest but he doesn't budge. You thought he was lanky and yet, he's built like a damn fridge !

Suddenly, Ethan smiles against your lips and lift you up in the air. His hand lays now completly flat on your ass while the other is supporting your legs from below. You place your hand around his neck to push him and you hear a light whimper coming out of his throat. It surprise you for a second and it allows him to stick out his tongue to lick your lower lip. When he parts away from you, you feel like you want to throw up.

"Wow, okay, you're really going at it..." you hear someone say in your back and Ethan puts you on the ground gently, you wipe his saliva off your mouth in disgust. You know it's Connor talking, your friend, and you hate that he saw you like that.

Ethan sends you a little smile, cheeks red. Acting as if you were just two lovers kissing lovingly. Acting shy as if everything was normal. You don't even know what to say. Curse him ? It excite him. Yell at him ? Same. Tell others ? Nobody believe you.

Looking beside Connor, you see Sarah. Another of your good friend. Fuck, you think. They'll think I'm horrible for kissing Ethan in a situation like this where I'm supposed to fight to gain back my crush's trust.

"I swear it's not... you start but are quickly shut off when Ethan interrups you with a big stupid smile.

-Hi, I'm Ethan. You're Sarah and Connor, right ? I've heard a lot about you. I'm their boyfriend.

Both of your friends look at each other in surprise. Even confusion. For a second, you're stunned. Astonished by the audactiy of this man. In what world is he your boyfriend ? He's not even your friend ! How can he lie straight at the face of someone ? When you see the way your friends look at you, you rush to deny his words.

-No he's absolutely not. Stop lying to others, damn it ! He's not my boyfriend, he's nothing !

-Oh." he simply says, as if he's the victim here.

Ethan smiles to your friends in an embarrassed way. Uneasy at the idea of being humiliated before them. Then, he looks at the ground, his hand scratch his neck. He pursues his lips and nod. You know he's putting an act. He's a liar.

"Oh please ! Stop pretending you're the victim here !" you say, rage drooling from your words.

Ethan gives you and your friends a last sad face for you all to pity him and then he leaves slowly. You'll deal with him later. When you stare at your friends, one is disappointed and the other is angry.

"Why are you so mean ?

-Mean ? you ask sartically. I'm not mean. He's a liar, that's what I'm trying to tell you ! He pretends to be a victim when I'm the one who got assaulted. I never wanted to kiss that guy and I wever will.

Connor do not seem to believe you and your heart break. He shakes his head slowly, as if telling 'that's enough' but you're not lying.

-He forced me to kiss him. Okay ? You know I'm not a cheater." you add, in a much more desperate tone.

Sarah looks at the path Ethan took earlier to leave with a sad face. No, you think. Not her, too. She doesn't believe you. You feel as if a bubble is stuck in your throat and with one word, it could explode and you with it.

"It's just... she trails her eyes to yours and gulp. If you wanted to be with someone else, you could have at least told them, you know ? says Sarah, referencing to your crush. It's really mean. You talked to them for months and suddenly, you're all over that boy.

She looks well too affected for you to think that's the only problem.

-Connor, man, you believe me, right ? you almost beg, no, in fact, you were begging. They were you friends for god sake. They should help you !

-I don't recognize you anymore. You're ruining everything you have.

-What? you say. What do you mean you don't recognize me ? I never changed ?

Your eyes dart from him to Sarah fervently. Are they hiding something ? Because it sure look like they do. Usually, they'd believe you. Why can't they trust your words ?

-Ethan did nothing wrong, he didn't know you were talking to someone else. You shouldn't hurt his feelings. The damage is done, yelling at him won't do anything. You already cheated on him.

Both of them were accusing you at the same time, you couldn't defend yourself, you were overwhelmed. You were felling betrayed. You immediatly thought; did Ethan lied to them already ? Making them believe he was the nice guy ?

-What ? You believe him? You never saw me talk to him, I never talked to you about him ! Don't you find it strange ? He's no one, I have no idea why he's doing that, okay ? I'm innocent. I never cheated on anyone. Why won't you trust me ?

And just like that, the argument flipped.

-Don't act innocent, okay ? snap Connor. You act like you don't remember ! But we didn't forget. All the creepy videos and photos, all the insults you texted us !

You frown, body freezing. Now what is it about ? You open and close your mouth like a fish, trying to find an answer to something you have no idea what it means.

-What ? I have no idea what you're...

-You don't remember, huh ? Yeah, of course. You critized my man, you critized the whole group. Why do you think they avoid you ? You put on display every one of our personal problem. You didn't need to tell everyone his dad was alcoholic !

Who's alcoholic ? What the hell is he talking about ?

To say you were clueless would be an euphemism. You try to remember saying all of this but nothing come to your mind. You even try to remember if you ever got so drunk alone that you'd send that, but you're sure you haven't. Hell, drunk or not, there is no you'd insult your friends !

-No, no I-I didn't. I'd never...

What they were accusing you of was much bigger now. Cheating was a thing you already could hardly support being accused of, but insulting your friends ? Your best friends who's been here for years ?

-Shut it. We get it now. We're stupid for staying with you in the first place.

Sarah had her eyes stuck to the ground when she finally speaks.

-You sent videos of us. you frown, not quite understanding but your attention fully on her. It gave the creep to everyone. It was videos, in the night. And it looked like you were hiding in my closet, it was my exact room. And I was sleeping and you could see me... and then she burst in tears. How did you get in ? Why did you film me ? That's not funny...

-You did that shit to everyone. Fuck, you don't even have the adress of some of us.

-But I've never...

But then you remember you got kicked from the group. Without any reason. Your friends were still in it, often talking about the converstion they had and laughing at you, saying how you're always reading the messages withtout even interacting with them. But you weren't in the group anymore. So you can't have been the one reading, much less sending videos.

-Sarah and I stayed because we thought you got hacked or something. And we really thougth you were since you never mentionned any of these damn videos.

Who the fuck broke in your friends room ? Who the fuck hacked your phone ? This situation is going too far, it's much more chaotic than you thought. They're accusing you of a literal crime ! Breaking in your friends house ! And filming them ! What didn't they tell you about it ? By telling you sooner, you'd have rassured them! Now it's too late and everything is thrown on you.

-But you just keep doing weird shits.

Connor shakes his is head. He's about to leave, you know it. He steps back progressively. You'll be alone. You don't want them to leave with the idea of you being a creep.

-You're scaring me." says Sarah.

She looks like she wants to tell you a last thing but Connor drags her away without looking at you. And just like that, you lost your two last friends.

You start to lose hope. Knowing nobody believe you. But then, you remember your crush does not know your version. You need to find them, and quick before Landry find them first.

You knew each other very well, you talked for months after all. They'll trust you, well, at least they'll listen to you. You know it. They were your last hope. By having their trust, your friends would listen to you. And you'll finally explain yourself, making them understand Landry was the problem.

You run in the hallways, looking in every corner. You thought about calling their name out loud but as they're avoiding you, they'll probably just go in the opposite direction of your voice.

You can't find them, but then you remember that by the time, they left their last class of the day. You run up to the said room and search around to find them. Finally, you see their head in the crowd. You run up to them, calling their name. They continue on walking, ignoring you.

"Please let me explain !

Relenctuly, your crush stops in the hallway. You scurry to them, awaiting the moment when they'll face you. Slowly, they turn their front to you. Everything in you crumble at the sight of you crush satring at you with so much sadness in the eyes.

-I can explain, you start. I... and you realize you have no idea what you're supposed to say. I don't know him? I just... I swear I have no idea why he did that ! I barely know his face ! I'd never do something like that to you, you know I really like you.

-Oh, yes, of course. So he just came by surprise and kissed you just for the fun of it, right ?

-Yes, actually. That's exactly what he did.

They'll never believe you. This is too stupid to believe. You look like a cheater caught red handed. You have no idea what to say, just now realizing the stupidity of the situation.

-Listen, they sigh, I'm gonna be honest with you. your heart crack at their words. You know it's too late. I wanted to believe you were a good person, you know ? I talked to Ethan.

-I don't know what he told you, but I swear, do not believe him. they smile sadly.

-I don't know who to believe anymore. you try to speak up but they interrupt you by continuing. Ethan told me he didn't know you were talking to me. He said both of you were already a thing.

And your world crumble. Landry, the guy you barely remember the face of, told your crush you were cheating on them. Landry, the guy who blush when the teacher compliment him, lied about you. Landry, the fucking nerd you forgot was existing until two hours ago was sabotaging your life.

-I didn't understand, because he told me you were together for a really long time. they laugh bitterly and you watch as their eyes water. He even told me you two were just friends and you're the one who asked him to be your boyfriend. And he looked so shy about it, like he was really confesssing a part of his life. they pass their hand on their eyes to try and dry them, in vain. And yet, here you are, telling me he's lying. What the hell is going on ?

The problem is that you're as lost as them, you have no clue what's going on.

-I'd never cheat on you. I really like you and-and I don't know what's the problem with him. suddenly, an idea appear in your head. You can check my phone ! You'll see I never talked to him. I don't even have his number to begin with. You can check everything, message, calls and even my social medias!

Finally, you'd prove he was a big liar to them.

Frantically, you open your bag and start searching inside. Your crush laugh sadly.

-It's no need. He showed me pictures of you two.

Now, you didn't understand. You never talked to him outside of school, hell, you never talked to him inside ! What photos could he have ? Did he photoshopped you ? That's some fucked up behaviour.

-He had plenty of it. Pictures where you were in your room and you were sleeping on him and all. It hurt. It hurt really bad.

That was another level of scary. That man hated you so much he spent hours photoshopping picture of you ? Still, it was deeply disturbing. Where did he find pictures of you to begin with ? And in your room that is ? Because your crush already been in your room so they know what it look like, but Ethan ? How does Ethan know your room ?

-Ethan has never even seen my building. That wasn't me. you realize you sound just like a cheater and cringe. Because you were denying everything when all the proofs proved you wrong. But you were innocent ! This whole situation was infuriating.

They scoff. You feel like you're losing them, and you are. Your last hope is your phone, and yet, you can't find it. You empty your bag on the floor, completly panicked. Every pocket is empty of your device. You search in your clothes but can't find it either. You start to freak out.

-I... I don't know where it is but... you're out of breath you don't even know why but you are. you try to remember where did your phone go and only remember putting it in your pant's pocket. I probably dropped it somewhere, fuck, I'm...

-No need to lie to me, I guess I was stupid.

It's like seeing the last grains of sand falling from the hourglass.

-No, no ! I swear I have my phone it's just... Maybe it fell or something. I, I'll find it. Follow me, we'll find it and...

-Please. they say. It's too late, okay ? Stop lying to me. I don't want us to end like that.

-I don't want us to end."

They don't even answer. Simply smiling at you, eyes full of tears and trembling lips. You look at them, pleading and full of hope but they turn their back to you and walk in the opposite direction. You're frozen. Staring at their back in the distance, you fell on the ground. Surrounded by the content of your bag which you threw without any care.

You want to cry, yet, you can't. Maybe because you're still in a public area. Maybe because you're embarrassed. You don't know. What are you supposed to do now ? You don't have friends anymore. You pass your hand on your face to try and ease the tension. You at least need to find your phone.

Walking in the hallway, you stumble across one of your old friend. One that Connor said had ended your relationship because of 'your' weird texts. Maybe you can ask her if she saw your phone somewhere. And even if she didn't, which is probably the case, you can still try to befriend her again ? You tap on her shoulder, smiling lightly.

"Hey, I just wanted to... you barely started that she cuts you off harshly.

-Don't try and talk to me after what you did ! Can I know why the fuck would you tell my boyfriend that I'm cheating on him? What the hell? What did I do to you?

-What? Listen, I lost my phone and...

-I don't know what's gotten into you lately but I won't be there to figure it out with you. I'm tired." and she left. You're left speechless, in the middle of the hallway, mouth open. Thats was quick.

You sigh and leave for the opposite direction. Great, another accusation coming from out of nowhere. It's the second time today. You only want this day to end. But your phone is still missing. Who knows who has it right now ? You hope no one.

You have to go back to your previous class to see if your phone is in there. You might even understand what she meant by telling you you sent a message to her boyfriend. Seriously though, she believes it ? Why would you do that ? You didn't even know she had a boyfriend.

When you arrive, everyone already left. You walk to the row you were seated at and start looking under every table, then, to the row above and the one below. Still, you can't find your phone. You seriously hope you didn't drop it in the hallway.

When you're done searching, you back off, wanting to search in the hallway again. But when you do, someone is already at the door, looking at you. Of crouse, it's him. You scoff. How long has this idiot been standing there ?

You were already annoyed, having spent the worst day of your life. And he was here again to worsen it.

"Hey... he tries.

-Oh no, no, no ! You get the fuck out of here ! I'm not talking to you. you prepare to leave.

Ethan is quick to stop you. Placing himself before the exit so you wouldn't leave. So you wouldn't leave him. You try to bypass him but he doesn't allow you. You groan out of frustration. What's retaining you from strangling him right now ?

-Even if I found something of yours ?

Was he bluffing ? You couldn't tell. His expressions always were unreadable. Ethan was showing you what he wanted and that only. He was too good of an actor for you to identify him, for you to decipher him. What even was he ? A damn serial killer ? How is he always one step ahead from you ! That was so frustrating !

Even though you were hesitating, he had your whole attention on him. He smiles maliciously and grab your phone from his pocket. You freeze. He had your phone. Him. Him ! He stole it !

-You dropped it earlier, you cut him off right away.

-I didn't. And you know it. he stays silent, you stare straight into his eyes, trying to understand his way of thinking. But he's too fucked up for you to undestand anything. You're the one who sent a message to her boyfriend, are you ?

You don't even need to precise whom you're talking about. He already know it. He ruined every one of your relationships. You're alone, now. Isn't he happy ? Isn't it what he wanted ?

-I didn't send anything to anyone. I just found it on the ground.

-You're a liar. You're a fucking liar.

You were going crazy. How many times is he going to lie straight to you face again ? How many times is he going to lie to everyone ? How many fucking times is he going to ruin your life ?

You push him on the chest with all your strenght, he steps back a little but your little fight does not affect him much. You push him again, again and again until he grabs your wrists to calm you down.

-Let me go ! you yell.

-Please..." he starts but you pull multiples times your arms harshly from him trying to gain your liberty back.

He looks around him to see if someone is there to see this scene. You struggle to get out of his hold and eventually, you do. You put a large distance between the both of you, staring at him from far away, you caress your bruised wrists.

-Why are you doing this ? What did I do to you ! your eyes were full of rage but also fear. You feared him because so far, he revealed he always was a step ahead of you.

-But, love, I just...

-Don't fucking call me love ! you spit at him, disgust lacing your words. The hell is wrong with you ?

-Please, don't yell at me. he simply says.

You rush to him and snatch harshly the phone from his hands, without looking at him, you hurry to leave the room. Fortunatly, he never tried to grab you.

When you got home this day, your crush blocked you everywhere, same for your friends. And when you looked at your numbers, Ethan Landry's was there. A single text was sent from him, a single and pitiful "I'm sorry".

The next day to school was your last as you quitted everything. You dropped your studies and stopped going into class. The pressure was too much. Somehow, one of your 'friend' told everyone you stalked them, they told everyone you hid in their closet to film them. Each time you were walking, breathing, you were stared at.

You were the creep everyone pointed at, laughed at.

So you just quit. You could have been more combatant if you had support, if you had friends behind you to watch your back. But you don't. You'll probably go back to your parent's town, make a sabbatical year or two and eventually continue your class later.

You sigh and put your clothes. You thought a nice shower would calm your nerve, sadly it didn't. Hunger was not your problem anymore as you didn't eat of the day, not feeling the need to. You jump on your bed, facing the ceiling.

Your head was empty of thoughts. You were just staring.

Someone rings at your door and you don't bother go up to see. You're not even bothered when five minutes later, a tall man enters you room, smiling lightly. It's him, again. Of course it's him. It always is. Again because you know this isn't the first time he entered your flat. You don't have proofs. You just know it.

And there is high odds he's the one breaking in your friend's house. So you're not surprised to see him here when he finally won. He came to see the damage he's done. To laugh a bit and enjoy the view.

His heavy body seems heavier at each one of his step. What was he going to do, this time ? You don't bother looking at him when he stops at the end of your bed. For a few minutes, none of you say a thing. Him, eyes glued to you and you to the ceiling. It's when he sighs (to catch your attention) that you talk.

"I'm alone, now. Happy ?

You were just jaded. Not angry anymore. Because it was well too late, your life was already wrecked. You could never find your friends back, you could never make yourself a new reputation. Since he doesn't answer you, you reluctantly sit up. His bright smile was all you needed to see to know the answer. You scoff and dive back in your bed.

-Nice, good to know my misfortune make your happiness.

Silence.

-You ruined everything. I don't have friends nor lover anymore. That's what you wanted, right ? You're gonna tell me why you did all that, now ?

Ethan giggles.

-I thought you would have figured it out by now.

-Well, I didn't. you answer coldly.

Ethan smiles and walks to your nightstand. He pushes the lamp on it to sit on the furniture. Your eyes were still on the ceiling, you didn't want to see him.

-You're so, so pretty. his voice was smooth and as light as a whisper.

-And that's why you ruined my whole life ? you deadpan, facing him. when you turned your head, his eyes were already on yours.

Ethan chuckles, looking to the ground. He shrugs, running his fingers in the curls falling on his forehead. You think he's blushing, but it's quite hard to know when his head is lowered like this.

He's a coward, now that you think about it. He anger you and when you scream at him, he begs for you to no yell at him. He stares at you and when you stare back, he's suddenly all shy. You seriously have no idea what this man wants.

-Well, that can be considered as part of it. and he was bashful saying it, too. In his sick mind, he probably thinks he's flirting with you.

-I hope I become the ugliest person in the world in my next life, then. you chuckle dryly.

-It doesn't matter. You'll still be the beautifulest... you cut him off.

-Yeah, yeah, shut up. Why are you even here ? you wanted to be agressive, to show him you were still strong. When in reality, you were all bark and no bite. A few days ago, you'd have fought him. Now, you miss the strength to do so.

He hit so suddenly and hard when you least expected it, you couldn't retort. It just... killed you. Without you even understanding who, how and why. In one single day, you lost everything because of him. He had it all planned.

-I just wanted to see you.

-Who the fuck are you exactly ?

He stays silent. You grab a pillow and throw it at his face, he catchs it right before it hit him. You snap your fingers to his face to make him react. To no avail.

-Landry, who the fuck you truly are ?

And finally, he reacts.

-My name's Ethan. he said sternly. Not Landry, don't call me like that. You call me Ethan.

And with one sentance, he made you understand you were playing with fire. With one sentance, he regains his power over you. His tone was demanding. It wasn't an offer, it was an order, you call him Ethan and that's it, no discussion.

This time, it could be your fault. You were too confident, you thought you knew him when in reality you had still no idea what he was capable of. He put you back in your place and you hated it. You hated him. You gulp, trying to find your words back after such a reversal of power. If you can even call it that, as you realised he's the one giving you power and he can take it back at any moment. You never really were in control.

-Well, Ethan, you insisted on his name too much for it to be natural but he didn't say anything, what do you want from me ?

He smiles and shrug. In his head, you asked him a simple question. One as simple as do you wanna go out this week-end or what did you do yesterday. But for you, it was much deeper. You wanted, needed to know why he did all of that. You were desperate, you were lost.

-Nothing, why? You wanted to give me something ? and he was candid about it, too.

You're sure he's just humiliating you at this point. He's savoring the imbalance of power between you. There was no other reason as to why he acted so casual.

-It is my fault ? you ask with a shaky voice which you dispised yourself for letting slide.

You were fucking tired of his playing. You wanted to know and he was telling nothing ! He already ruined everything ! You couldn't cry for help even with proof ! It was too late. Why doesn't he want to tell you his motive ?

-No, why would you... was it true sadness or a fake one ? you can't even tell.

-Did I do something to you ?

-No, never, I know you'd never...

I know, he says. But what does he know ? How does he know ? And why does he know you so well when you barely recognize his face ? Why do you know nothing ?

-Then why ? Why are you doing this ? he frowns, his shy demeanor gone as he stares into your eyes with a confident posture.

-I don't like the way you talk to me. I don't want you to hate me. I don't want you to blame me. Both of us did nothing wrong.

-Both of us ? you laugh hysterically, sensing your last working brain cells going crazy, tears brim at your eye line, from sadness ? laugh? frustration? I did nothing wrong ! I wouldn't say the same for you !

-Don't accuse me. he says ternly. It's your fault, I sent you plenty of signs and you never came talk to me.

-What fucking signs ? you scream. You're imagining things ! You imagined everything ! Why would I ever want to talk to you ? You are crazy ! Do you fucking understand ?

-I am not ! I am not crazy and you're gonna be in love with me ! We are supposed to be together !

With his words, you calm down. Realization settling in your brain. Everything suddenly become clear. Yeah, this makes sense, after all. All the lying saying you were together, it was for him.

-Is that what is this about ? a single tear slide down your face. Is it really, now ? You're just fucking desperate for a relationship? you take a shaky breath. We'll never be together, Landry. Never, you hear me ? You're fucked up.

His eyes are empty as he looks down at you. You're reminded how dangerous this man can be. How little you know of him. And you're scared to be alone with him.

-I don't think you can really say that, sweetheart. I am capable of things you're yet to discover. I modified your life for it to let me in, I'll modify your fate as many times as I need to for you to love me.

-My friends had nothing to do with it...

-But they do, in fact, had everything to do with it, my love. he tilts his head to the right and look at you like you're a damn child getting grounded. I don't have friends, why would you have some ? Most of them didn't really like you anyway. They never tried to understand why you suddenly stopped talking in the group chat. They didn't even notice when I was the one talking instead of you. Aren't they supposed to know you?

You knew it, deep down. But hearing him talk about how easy it was for him to ruin your life without you noticing anything was terrifying. He was terrifying. He spent his sweet time reading each of your convos with your friends, he found their adresses, he found their fucking adresses and filmed them. All of this with a disconcerting ease.

-You're one son of a bitch, you know that ? There is a place in Hell just for people like you.

-As long as you're with me, I don't mind. and he smiled, he smiled !

-You ruined everything. your body is shaking.

And understanding once again that he won, you feel your eyes water. Honestly, you didn't know you could still cry. You already did so many time your body was probaly all dry by now. But no.

You curl on yourself on the bed, letting your tears slide down your face. You were tired. But you couldn't sleep, nor do you wanted to. Ethan is facing your back, you don't see the smile on his lips. And you don't see his hand laying itself on your shoulder.

-And I'm happy I did.

Nor do you feel it. Too preoccupied in your despair to feel anything other than your sorrow. Your head hurt, everything does in your body anyway. Ethan slide his hand up and down your shoulder in a soothing way that only soothe him. And he sighs, feeling at ease.

-So, so happy."

@ephemeral-oasis

[putschki1969]

Hello dear Sarah, I hope you are well, I want to ask you a question since you are very expert on the subject, When kalafina existed (it hurts to say that😭) I was a teenager I couldn't buy their merchandise now that I can I want to know if I buy something from them, do they still make a profit or not?My friend says not anymore, if I want to support them, I better buy their materials as soloists. Please give me some advice.

Hello there!

I am so, so sorry! This reply is long overdue. I had this in my drafts for way too long. These days, I've really been struggling with summer fatigue and can't get motivated to do anything except the bare minimum. As a result, lots of asks have remained unanswered in my inbox/drafts.

Without further ado, let's get to your question〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Disclaimer: Take everything you read here with a grain of salt. Even though I would consider myself to be quite knowledgeable on the matter, I don't have all the facts.

I think your friend is correct. If you are buying Kalafina releases (CDs, DVDs/BDs/etc) or merchandise (live goods etc) right now, it is very unlikely that the girls will profit from it.

The way the Japanese entertainment industry works, idols/singers often don't have any rights to their music (especially in a case like this where they don't have an active part in the creative process). From what we know, the members of Kalafina were most likely managed in a very common and traditional "employment dynamic" with their talent agency "Space Craft" , meaning that after the label (Sony/SACRA MUSIC) got its sizeable share, the agency basically pocketed all remaining earnings from Kalafina's activities and then distributed a contractually agreed upon percentage to the members in the form of a monthly salary. As the creative force behind everything, I would assume that Yuki Kajiura probably had a more favourable arrangement with Space Craft along the lines of a client <=> management relationship and therefore received earnings directly with a certain percentage going to the agency but I'm only speculating here. Considering the amounts of money that went to the label, the agency and Yuki Kajiura, it is likely that the girls received a quite meager share compared to everyone else involved. Not saying they weren't paid decently, it was obviously more than enough to allow all three of them to live comfortably (or luxuriously in Keiko's case - keep in mind tho that her family is well-off) but certainly nothing too crazy.

After leaving Space Craft, I very much doubt that Keiko and Hikaru would have financial gains from any Kalafina-related sales. Wakana on the other hand might profit indirectly from such purchases because she's still signed up with Space Craft. Some official Kalafina merch is still available in the Space Craft online store so if you buy anything from there, the money would obviously go to the agency. All other merchandise items that are floating around online or in stores are almost certainly second-hand goods so no profit is made except by the seller/thrift shop. As for music releases from official shops or distribution partners, I'm actually not sure if Space Craft would still receive a cut from that. I guess it depends on their arrangement with the label. I definitely wouldn't rule it out. (YK is probably getting something).

Long story short, if you want to support the girls, the best option currently is to buy their solo stuff. However, that doesn't mean that you should give up on your dream to buy Kalafina releases and merch. Even if the group is disbanded, it is a good thing to signal that there is still demand for them. Also, if you ask me, nothing feels better than to own physical merch/releases. My Kalafina shrine is one of my biggest sources of happiness and pride.

[acotar-taylorsversion]

More Recent Thoughts and What Not

So, I've been thinking about Lucien a lot lately. I don't hate him, so don't come at me, but sometimes I just feel that there were a couple of reasons why Sarah made him Elain's mate. I'm an Elriel girly for life and nothing and no one but Sarah saying otherwise will convince me that they aren't endgame. That being said, I think that Sarah made him Elain's mate as 1) Elain and Az's "obstacle" and 2) a way for him to stay relevant so she could use him in the overall plot. I mean, think about it. Feysand and Nessian both had these "obstacles" that kept them from getting together right away and Elain's bond with Lucien is a big reason why Az hasn't pursued her or thought more about a future with Elain. Why would he get his hopes up if he doesn't know how Elain truly feels about Lucien? He said himself in the bonus chapter. Elain was more than willing to kiss and perhaps go further and Az said that they had never gone that far. AND HE NEVER ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT THEIR ALMOST KISS WAS A MISTAKE! HE FORCED HIMSELF TO SAY THAT BECAUSE RHYS WAS THERE AND WAS DEMANDING AZ TO STOP! Anyways, but yeah. And I know that Sarah orginally planned for Lucien and Nesta to get together but instead made Nesta end up with Cassian because of how perfect they were when she first wrote them in a scene together. But she needed a way for Lucien to be relevant to the plot, because let's be honest, I saw no place for Lucien after Feyre chose to stay in the night court. I actually forgot all about him until he showed and tried to take Feyre away. I think she always intended for Lucien to be involved with Vassa, but how would he have known about her if he didn't leave the Spring Court with Feyre because of Elain. Elain was the only reason he left with Feyre. Elain was the only reason Lucien didn't blow Feyre's cover the entire time she was back and I don't think that he would have been as close to her as he was if it weren't for the promise of offically meeting Elain. Even being Helion's son hasn't really done anything for the plot, yet. Do you guys see where I'm going with this? I don't know. LOL. The Eluciens might think I'm crazy!

And I want to say that Elain does not owe Lucien anything. Her silence is an answer in itself. I mean, she was about to kiss Az and do God knows what else with him in foyer of the river house while Lucien slept upstairs. She just doesn't care or doesn't care enough to consider him in moments like that. Clearly, time away from him does not affect her and he seems to be just fine away from her as well. Yes, he's being respectful by not pressuring her, but he can also take a hint. I don't think she'd be offended if he never got her a gift again until they both make the decision to accept the bond. And I don't see that happening. I just don't.

It's also suspicious how their bond was instantly recognized. Like feysand and nessian's bond took time to snap but Lucien instantly knew? And why can Az smell it and no one else can? Amren smelled feysand's but she's different and no body else could smell it until they accepted it. Elain and Lucien have not accepted it so what's going on there? Eluciens and gwynriels can call us crazy all they want to but we have legit questions. I still stand by my opinion about how Az acts more like Elain's mate than Lucien does.

Also, can I just say how much I hate all the hate the inner circle is getting on tik tok? Like, I'm sorry. I know we are all entitled to our own opinions but if you hate Feyre and Rhys so much that you create a 10 page slide show about how much they need to die and how horrible they are, then you don't deserve the series anymore. Why are you still reading it? Sarah has stated that Rhys is her favorite and feysand will always be the center of everything so they aren't going anywhere.

Same goes for all the Nesta and Cassian hate. Like wtf? NO. I will absolutely not put up with hate for either one of them for any reason. They are my favorite couple, like more than elriel and that's saying something. I waited years for their book and I am absolutely disgusted that people want her to break her bond and get with ERIS?! That is an insult to Cassian.

Let's see. What else? During my reread of Silver Flames, I realized that all the signs of Gwyn being a lightsinger or having some type of power are there from the moment we meet her. Both Nesta and Az and his shadows all react to her powers, which involve singing and music in some way. I noticed that she is always singing, too. I get the feeling that most of Gwyn's arc was not only proving to herself, but to everyone around her, that she's strong and capable. I think Az triggered something in her and she wanted to prove to him that she's not that girl that he saved anymore. You know? Also, when Nesta described her smile, it was said "Nesta couldn't explain the way she sensed that there was something else mixed into her. Some secret beneath that pretty face." This reminded me of the infamous quote of Az thinking of Gwyn's smile "a thing of secret, lovely beauty." Why are they associating secrets with Gwyn? I have so many questions and I need Sarah to explain ASAP. Like legit questions, someone explain it to me.

What do you guys think?

Now, I know that some gwynriels and eluciens might see this, and that's ok! I am open to discussions as long as they are civil, in the comment section or a message or an ask.

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

You Don’t Go To Parties | R.C.

Read part 2 here

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe flashes back on moments in your relationship as he looks for you at his party, even though he knows that he won’t find you.

Based on the song:

A/N: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written and I think the one I’ve enjoyed the most. This definitely isn’t canon Rafe but it is the Rafe I dream of. Rafe and Sarah are actually close in this because they deserve that and Sarah and Topper aren’t dating cuz I just don’t like them together. Also it is very very very much not proofread like at all

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: drug and alcohol use, addiction, arguing, harassment, talk of ward being a shitty dad

Word Count: 6.5k

-

25 minutes. That’s how long the party had been going on at the Cameron house. 25 minutes. That was how long Rafe had been looking for you at said party.

He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Scanning the party every few minutes, his conscious mind chalked it up to wanting to know who was at his house and he left it at that. He didn’t want to think about it any deeper.

Take a shot. Scan the kitchen.

Do a line. Scan the basement.

Play a round of beer pong. Scan the backyard.

“Right, bro? Rafe, have you even heard a word I said?” A shove from Topper brings Rafe back to reality.

“Huh, what? Is it my turn?” Rafe turns back to the card table covered with red solo cups.

“We lost like five minutes ago,” Topper deadpans, “which you would know if you had been paying attention.

Where is your head, bro? It’s like you’re not even here. This is your party.”

Rafe just shrugs in response, scanning the backyard again.

“Who are you looking for?”

Rafe turns back to his friend. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Topper says skeptically, “You’re just searching the crowd every few minutes for no reason.” He claps him on the back. “Real convincing.”

Rafe starts to make a noise of indignation, but Topper is already walking away, leaving him to his thoughts.

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, Rafe knows exactly who he’s looking for, and he also knows he’ll never find you in the crowd. You don’t go to parties anymore, and he only has himself to blame.

-

(10 months earlier)

Growing up middle class in the Outer Banks was a weird experience. You weren’t a pogue and you weren’t a kook, and neither group made any attempt to claim you. You were just you.

You hadn’t wanted for much during your childhood, but you learned not to spend on needless expenses. Your parents taught you the necessity of hard work and they taught you how to budget. You didn’t go to lavish parties, but you weren’t going to bed hungry. As an adult, you worked two jobs, waitressing during the week and bartending on weekends, and your parents pitched in every once and a while to help you pay your rent. You weren’t rich by any means, but thanks to your work ethic and the kindness of your parents, you made it work.

Rafe Cameron grew up in a different world. He splurged endlessly, using up the massive allowance that his dad gave him. He didn’t care about price and he didn’t care about budgeting. Most of all, he had never worked hard a day in his life.

When he comes up to the bar one night while you’re pouring drinks, you don't spare him a second glance. He flashes you that crooked grin and calls you ‘darlin’’, but it doesn't matter. You know Rafe Cameron’s reputation and you don’t get tied up in the games of rich boys. You simply make him his drink and go on with your night.

Rafe on the other hand, is smitten from the moment he lays eyes on you. When the typical smile and sweet talk doesn’t have you falling at his feet like every other girl, he knows he’s a goner. He would make it his mission to catch your eye no matter what it took.

So he puts in the work, weekend after weekend he comes to the bar, day after day he comes to the restaurant. Each meeting is filled with flirty conversations and teasing looks, and despite your better judgment, you can feel him wearing you down.

-

(8 months earlier)

Two months after your first meeting, Rafe saunters into the bar, just like he did every Friday night, and heads straight for you.

“Y/N.” He greets you, the same crooked grin on his face.

“Rafe,” you reply, the same even tone you always use, “The usual?”

“You know it, darlin’.”

“You’re later than usual.” You note.

He smirks at that. “Worried I wasn’t coming?”

You give him a look. “Not a chance,” you retort, “just thought maybe I had finally scared you off.”

“Impossible.”

You can’t help the small smile that crosses your face at his reply, and you turn quickly so he doesn’t see, playing it off as helping another customer. When you refocus your attention back on him, you realize he hadn’t taken his eyes off you. He scans your face, the look on his face more serious than usual and one you can’t quite read.

He leans in, eyes locked on your face and murmurs under his breath, “Go on a date with me, please.”

Rafe has never blatantly asked you out before. You know that it’s been his intention all along, all his flirting building up to this moment, but you didn’t expect such sincerity behind his words. And you certainly didn’t expect him to say please.

You want to say no. You know better than to get involved with someone like him, but Rafe has a gravitational force that pulls you, and everyone around him, in. So when he gives you a small, hopeful smile, you can’t help that your body leans closer to him. And you can’t help but say yes.

-

He picks you up at 6:00 on the dot Monday night, looking about as handsome as you had ever seen him in dark jeans and a light blue pullover. He hadn’t told you much about what he had planned for the night, just to wear something comfortable and he would take care of everything else.

You aren’t quite sure what to expect from Rafe Cameron on a date, but as he opens the door of his truck for you, looking down at you with a smile and a soft look in his eyes, you realize you aren’t worried.

Rafe drives you to a small clearing that you had never seen. It’s a grassy spot that overlooks a quiet area of the beach, and is just secluded enough to give the two of you privacy. He pulls in carefully, angling the bed of the truck toward the beach.

Once he parks, you reach for the door handle, but Rafe puts up a hand to stop you.

“Wait right here for a second, okay?”

He grabs a bag from the backseat and hops out of the truck, setting up the truck bed to his liking. When he finishes, he jogs over to your side of the truck where he opens your door and helps you out.

You raise an eyebrow at the gesture, a small smile gracing your face. “Quite the gentleman, Rafe Cameron.”

“I was trained well,” he jokes back at you.

As you round the back of the truck, Rafe jumps up onto the tailgate, reaching down a hand to help you up the big step. You’re thankful for the help as you almost fall, not once, but twice in the process.

“Well, that was graceful,” you giggle and Rafe laughs along with you.

When he’s confident you're steady on your own two feet, Rafe takes a seat on one side of the truck bed, motioning you to do the same across from him. Between you, he’s set up a small picnic with a few of your favorite foods and a variety of drinks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic alike.

“I wasn’t sure which you would want,” Rafe offers at your questioning glance, “I wasn’t sure how much you drink.”

Your heart flutters a little with the thoughtfulness of his words. It’s not what you would’ve expected from Rafe. You’ve heard the stories, and know his reputation. Rafe drank a high volume and often. You’d expected him to want you to do the same. Then again, nothing about your experience with Rafe has been what you expected.

The night was everything you could’ve hoped for. You and Rafe spend hours talking and laughing while feasting on the picnic he had brought. The conversation never seemed to lull, and even the quiet moments between the two of you felt comfortable.

As the sun went down over the water, you let out a content sigh. “It really is beautiful.”

Rafe hums in agreement, leaning back against his hands as he looks between you and the sunset. He can’t believe how lucky he is to be here with you. How he convinced you to go out with him is beyond his comprehension, but he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

A light breeze blows across the clearing, and you can’t help but shiver slightly. It was usually pretty warm in the Outer Banks, but considering it was nearing November, sometimes the nights get a bit chilly.

Noticing your discomfort, Rafe reaches through the open truck window and pulls out a jacket. He drapes it over your shoulders gently, and you feel yourself leaning into his touch. You look up at him, the ‘thank you’ getting caught into your throat when you realize just how close he is.

You can feel his warm breath fan across your face, his eyes flickering to your eyes and your lips, gaze intense. He’s waiting for your permission to make a move, so you tilt your head up ever so slightly. Moving so your lips are almost brushing against his.

He takes this as his cue, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is strong, but gentle, Rafe’s mouth moving in time with yours as if you were made for each other. You feel like you’re floating, and you don’t ever want to come down.

-

(7 months earlier)

A month into your relationship, Rafe takes you to a party at his buddy Dylan’s house. It’s your first real kook party. Sure, you’ve been to your fair share of parties while living on the island, but none of them have been in mansions owned by rich parents who just let their kids have free reign.

You can tell Rafe feels comfortable like this, surrounded by rich kids in a big house with loud music and expensive booze. You know he’s been to plenty of parties just like this one, but you can’t help but feel out of place, even by the kook king’s side.

Luckily for you, Rafe steers you towards the kitchen pretty quickly, not wanting to share you with everyone the whole night.

“Wow, this is quite the party,” you state, gesturing around the room.

Rafe pours you a cup of beer and then grabs one for himself, tucking an arm around your waist to pull you into his body.

“What do you mean? You’ve been to lots of parties,” he comments.

“Not in houses like this, Rafe,” you laugh, “they have two ovens, and a fridge that looks like a cabinet.”

Rafe chuckles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yo, Rafe!” A loud, frat boy looking blond enters the kitchen.

Rafe gives him a quick bro hug before leaning back into your side. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Where you been lately, dude? I haven’t seen you at a party in forever!” He gestures toward you. “I take it this is the girl who’s been taking you all your time?”

Rafe smiles warmly down at you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Trey.” He gestures back to the blond.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer.

“Yeah, you too.” Trey throws out the quick reply, clearly thinking of you as nothing beyond a fling. He turns back toward Rafe. “Look you didn’t hear this from me, but there’s some of the good stuff downstairs. You know what I mean.” He taps the side of his nose.

Rafe feels you stiffen against his side at the comment. “I’m good, man. Appreciate the heads up.”

Trey shakes his head, giving him an incredulous look. “More for me then.”

He walks away not long after, but you still feel on edge. Sensing your continuing discomfort, Rafe leads you away from the commotion and out onto an empty balcony.

“Are you okay?” He doesn’t crowd you which you appreciate, leaving a few feet of space between you. “I can tell that conversation made you uncomfortable.” For having known you only a few months, he seems to be able to read you pretty well.

You nod. “It’s just not really something we’ve talked about you know? The drug use.”

Rafe nods.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do. And I don’t want to issue ultimatums. But I feel like we need to have a conversation about it before our relationship progresses any further.”

Rafe’s eyes never leave yours as he nods again, encouraging you to continue.

“I know it’s a big thing on the island, coke especially. I mean I don’t live under a rock. But I’m not comfortable around it, and I’m not comfortable surrounding myself with people who do it.” You pause for a moment, preparing yourself for what you have to say next. “Addiction is pretty prevalent in my family, and a lot of people have struggled with drug abuse. It’s a big deal to me and I don’t think I can be with you if that’s something you’re taking part in.” You hold your breath, knowing this could be the end of your budding relationship with Rafe.

He steps closer to you, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. “I understand,” he says with sincerity in his words, “I know I have a reputation Y/N, and I know you’ve looked past a lot of it to give me a chance.”

You look away, finding it hard to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid of what might come next.

“I want you to feel comfortable around me, no matter what. Would it make you feel better if I told you I’ve been clean since we met?”

Your eyes snap to his at the question. “Really?” Rafe nods in reply. “Why?”

“I knew I wanted to be with you from the day I met you, and I knew in order for that to happen I had to be the best version of myself that I could.” He shrugs. “You’re worth more than the high.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

-

(5 months earlier)

“I just don’t understand what you’re getting so upset about?”

“Rafe, I’m upset because we’ve had this dinner date planned for weeks and you suddenly canceled on me twenty minutes before you were supposed to pick me up.”

You’re standing on one side of your living room as Rafe paces across from you. Last night, the two of you were supposed to go to dinner at a nice restaurant. A date that had been planned two weeks ago when Rafe had first surprised you with the reservation. You had spent over an hour getting ready when he canceled on you with a text. No explanation as to why and a half assed apology. You don’t think he even realized you were upset about it until he showed up at your door this morning and saw the piercing glare you gave him.

“Look, there was nothing I could do about it, okay?” Rafe runs his hands through his hair. “Something just came up last minute.”

“And you won’t even tell me what it was.” His non-explanation does nothing to curb your anger. “How do you expect me to feel, Rafe?”

He softens when he sees the look in your eyes, realizing you're not so much mad as you are hurt. Hurt that he canceled, hurt that he won’t tell you why, hurt that he doesn’t seem to care.

“It was Sarah, and my dad,” Rafe offers in explanation, “I don’t know exactly what happened, but they got in this huge fight and I just needed to be there for her.” He moves closer to you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

All your anger fades away at his words. “Is she okay?” You and Sarah have gotten close since you started dating Rafe. You know all the Cameron kids have a strained relationship with their father, Rafe most of all. He’s never told you the full extent of his issues with his dad, but you know he’s very protective of his sisters when it comes to Ward.

Rafe nods. “She’ll be fine.” He wants to pull you into his arms, but he hesitates, knowing this conversation isn’t quite over.

You look at him with hurt eyes. “You could’ve told me you know. I would’ve understood.” You love how much he cares for his sisters. You never would’ve stood in the way of him being there for Sarah.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he repeats again, “I wasn’t thinking.” This time you move a little closer, opening yourself up to him. When he reaches out, you allow him to pull you into his body. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

You nod into his chest. Rafe pulls you back slowly to look into your eyes. “I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it, but it’s how he’s felt since day one. When you smile up at him, eyes full of adoration, he feels like his heart could burst.

“I love you too, Rafe.”

-

The Cameron house is full of music, beer, and kooks. At this point in your relationship you’ve been to a fair amount of kook parties with Rafe and while it’s still not necessarily your scene, you’ve come to feel a lot more comfortable in the chaotic atmosphere by Rafe’s side. You understand the appeal more now, even if it’s not entirely your thing.

Since Rafe is hosting this party, you spend a lot of the night with Sarah, allowing him to mingle with his friends, pour drinks, and the like. The two of you are confident in your relationship and don’t feel like you need to spend every minute together. You don’t mind him doing his hosting thing as long as he checks in on you from time to time, as you’re having fun dancing the night away with Sarah.

“Hey darlin’,” Rafe pulls you into him from behind, sliding his arm around your waist while you sway to the music, “Not having too much fun without me are you?”

You turn to wrap your arms around his neck. “Oh absolutely. You know your sister might be more fun than you are. I might just have to reconsider which Cameron I’m dating,” you tease.

Rafe feigns shock with a hand to his heart, looking between you and Sarah. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”

“Oh believe it, big brother!” Sarah chimes in, “She’s my girlfriend now.”

He pouts at that, turning to you with over exaggerated sad eyes. You laugh at his expression, but can’t help kissing the pout off his lips.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Sarah fakes a gag behind you as the two of you look lovingly into each other’s eyes. “Okay, you guys are gross. Rafe, leave us alone so we can dance!”

“What, now I can’t even spend time with my own girlfr–” A crash sounds from behind him. “Oh fuck. What the hell was that?”

He gives you an apologetic look but you wave him off. “It’s okay, go deal with the chaos.” You smile and he gives you one last peck on the lips before running off in the direction of the crash.

Sarah takes her place at your side again as you both watch his retreating figure. “I may give him a lot of shit, but I gotta admit, you two are really good together.” She loops her arm through yours. “Plus I got a new best friend out of the deal.”

The two of you laugh and turn back to the dance floor when you feel a hand close around your wrist. You turn with a smile, assuming Rafe has returned after dealing with the mess, but instead you come face to face with a guy you’ve never met.

“Um, hi,” you say to him, a little confused.

The guy flashes an over confident smirk at you. “Hey, babe. Wanna dance?”

“Oh, I’m actually dancing with my friend right now, but thanks.”

You try to pull your arm from his grip, but instead of talking your gentle brush off he just grips you tighter. Sarah turns back looking for you just as he pulls you hard, causing you to stumble closer to him. She gives you a worried look, but you shake your head at her. You’ve dealt with your fair share of pushy men at the bar, so you're pretty sure you can handle this yourself.

“Oh come on.” He speaks uncomfortably close to your face. So much so that you can smell the alcohol coming off his breath in waves. “It’s just a dance.”

“I said no.” You yank your arm stiffly from his grip. “Find someone else.”

Your defiance does little more than anger him as he lunges for you again, this time gripping both arms so tightly you’re sure he’ll leave a bruise.

“Hey!” Sarah jumps in now as this situation escalates. “She said no. Back off!”

In the kitchen, Rafe is finishing up dealing with the most recent crisis when he hears voices raising in the living room. Oh god, what now?

“Yo Rafe!” Topper rushes into the kitchen. “You better get out here man. Some guy is harassing Y/N.”

Rafe charges into the living room after his best friend, freezing when he sees you. Some guy has got ahold of both of your arms while you try to pull away, Sarah trying in vain to get in between the two of you, and the rest of the crowd looking around nervously, clearly waiting for the moment when Rafe finds out what is happening.

Sarah is all up in the guy’s face, practically biting his head off, but you can’t really hear what is being said at this point. You’re finding it a little hard to breathe at the moment, unable to concentrate on anything except how trapped you feel as you continue to pull against his strong grip.

You can feel your eyes welling up as your breathing shallows, but right before the tears can fall the guy is ripped away from you. You stumble back into Sarah’s arms as a tall body plants themselves protectively in front of you.

“Stay the hell away from her,” Rafe practically growls out.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong! She was all over me, man.”

Rafe is physically holding himself back at that, hands trembling with the effort. “I can guarantee you, she was not.” He wants to cave the guy’s face in, but he knows that would just upset you more and he doesn’t want to do anything to add to your anxiety.

The guy stalks forward again, angry at being embarrassed in front of all these people, and gets in Rafe’s face. “You need to back the fuck up,” Rafe barks out.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“First of all, I’m her boyfriend.” The guy goes to make an angry retort, probably about you wanting him, but Rafe cuts him off. “And second of all, I’m the one throwing this damn party.”

The guy pales in realization, he may not have known what Rafe Cameron looks like, but he clearly knows this is his party, and he just pissed off the kook king big time.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.” Rafe looks over at Topper who nods and grabs the guy by the back of his shirt, marching him straight out the front door.

Rafe turns toward you, still shaking in Sarah’s embrace. He opens his arms and you bury yourself in his chest as he leads you away from the crowd up to his bedroom. As you walk you can hear Sarah yell behind you, “Alright everyone, party’s over! Go home.”

As he shuts the door to his bedroom, Rafe speaks softly in your ear, “I’m so sorry, baby. I should’ve been there.”

You shake your head. “I’m okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving your side at a party ever again. I promise.” He crawls on the bed pulling you so you're laying fully on top of him. “I won’t let anyone lay their hands on you again.”

You just nod, nustling deeper in his embrace, finally feeling the trembling dissipate as you begin to feel safe again in his arms.

-

(3 months earlier)

You sat around the fire listening as one of your friends told a story about a terrible first date she went on last week. You plant your face in your hands and groan as she tells you the cheesy pickup line he used at the end of the night, Sarah falling into fits of laughter beside you.

“I honestly can’t believe you didn’t just walk out at this point,” she gets out between giggles.

You nod your head enthusiastically. “Girl, you have gotta start finding better people to date.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says in a teasing voice, “Not all of us can be in the perfect relationship, okay?”

You put your hands up in mock surrender, letting her continue on her rant of first dates being the worst. Your relationship with Rafe isn’t perfect, but you won’t deny that it's pretty damn close.

You and your friends put this bonfire together at the beach as a chance to just relax and catch up. Sarah, Topper, and a few others sit with you on the sand. Rafe coming a little later in the night because he has to run a few quick errands for his dad, but you don’t mind. This is the first time you’ve really had a solid group of friends since you were a kid, and it’s nice to feel relaxed and happy even without your boyfriend there.

A few minutes later, you hear a truck pull up and a car door shut. You turn with a bright smile on your face, excited to see your boyfriend after a long day without him, but your excitement turns to worry when you see the look on his face. He plasters on a smile as he makes it to the group, but you know him well enough to see right through it. You turn to Sarah and the look she gives you confirms that something is definitely wrong with Rafe.

“Hey, let’s go on a little walk, okay?” You give him a small smile. “We’ll be back in a few, guys.”

Your friends respond with a chorus of okay’s and see ya’s and Sarah gives you an encouraging nod.

Trekking along the water line, you take Rafe’s hand in yours. “What’s going on, baby? You seem upset.”

“Just a long day. My dad was a lot.”

You nod. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

“Maybe in a little while. Can we just walk for a bit?”

“Of course.”

He tucks you into his side, enjoying the way your presence grounds him after the day he’s had. You wait patiently until he’s ready to start speaking. Rafe doesn’t talk about his dad too often around you. He’s told you the basics of how they don’t really get along and that he can be pressuring and overbearing, but that’s the extent of it.

While he knows that you would be supportive and that it’s good to get it out, he doesn’t like recounting their fights. It usually just makes him feel trapped back in that moment. This, however, is the worst fight they’ve had in a while and he just can’t deal with it himself this time.

“He told me I’m a failure and that I can’t be trusted to do anything right.” Rafe rushes out the sentence in one breath.

You stop abruptly, turning to face him. “He said what?”

“He said that I’m never going to be a successful adult, because I can’t even do the simple tasks he asks of me. And that I’m distracted all the time and never spend enough time at home or doing the work he needs me to do.”

“Rafe,” you say softly, but he’s not finished.

“He wants me to break up with you because he thinks you take up too much of my time and don’t respect him or the way he runs our family.”

You can’t help the look of disbelief that crosses your face. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Then he rushes to add, “I told him no obviously. I’m not breaking up with you because he told me too. I’d never do that.”

“No, baby, I know.” You reach a hand up to his cheek, rubbing your thumb back and forth to calm him down. “That’s not what I’m worried about. But that was a lot for you to hear, Rafe.”

He nods slightly, trying and failing to hide the tears welling up in his eyes.

“You’re not a failure, baby.” You turn his head toward you gently. “If he can’t see the amazing man you’ve become, the capable, confident, happy man that you are, then that’s his deficiency not yours.”

Rafe looks back at the ground, whispering in agreement, but it’s clear he doesn’t mean it.

“Rafe Cameron, you are an incredible man. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. And I will remind you of that everyday until you believe it.” You duck down under his lowered gaze until your eyes meet. “Screw your dad.” You add sternly.

That earns you a little smile and a squeeze of your hand. “Thank you,” Rafe murmurs.

You pull him to sit next to you on the sand. “Why don’t we just stay here for a little while? We don’t have to go back to the bonfire quite yet.”

And there you sit, for the rest of the night, your back pressed to Rafe’s front, his arms around your waist while you rub soothing circles into his arms. Enjoying the breeze, the sound of the waves, and most of all, each other's company, because as long as you have each other it doesn’t matter what else goes wrong in the world.

-

(2 months earlier)

“Come on, Y/N!”

“Rafe, I’ve told you a hundred times, I can’t go to Jason’s party with you tonight. I have to work. You’ll just have to go with Top.”

You’re standing behind the bar arguing with Rafe, who apparently drove all the way all the way to your place of employment to beg you to go to this party with him, even though he knows damn well that you have a shift tonight.

“Can’t you blow off work just this once?” Rafe tries again.

“No, Rafe, I can’t.” You pace back and forth in front of him, getting dangerously close to being late for work. “If I don’t work this shift, I won’t be able to make rent this month, not to mention the fact that they’d probably fire me for bailing this late.”

“It’s like you don’t even want to spend time with me?”

“Because I won’t blow off work for you? Rafe, I need this money. You know what, I’m done with this conversation. I’m going to be late. We’ll talk about this later.” With that final statement, you stalk inside, not even pausing to glance back at your boyfriend.

You can’t stop thinking about your fight while you work, turning the words over and over in your head throughout your shift. You know Rafe has never had to worry about money or even really about having a job, but usually he was pretty understanding of your life and finances. He knew you needed this job to survive and as much as you wish it could be different, at this point in your life, work had to take precedence over hanging out with friends. You couldn’t afford for it not to.

By the end of your shift, you decide that you and Rafe should wait until morning to talk. You still feel pretty hot about the whole situation, and nothing good would come from the two of you arguing all night. In the morning, you could stop by his place and have a discussion when both of you had clear heads.

You pack up your stuff, saying goodbye to your coworkers and heading to your car when you notice two new voicemails from Rafe. You play the first.

“Hey darlin’, it's me. I was an asshole earlier and you have every right to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have asked you to skip out on work and I definitely shouldn’t have made it all about me. I know how important this job is for you. Just call me back please. I hate it when we fight. I love you, baby.”

You let out a deep sigh, your heart clenching. You hated fighting with him too, but you still think the night would do you both some good. You play the second voicemail while you start driving.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice breaks on your name, “I know you’re still mad at me, but I need you.”

You stiffen at the pain in his voice, feeling a little panicked.

“Dad and I got in this huge fight and– It was really bad,” He whispers the last part, “Call me back please. I need you.”

You pull over quickly, clicking on his contact in your phone. Your fingers drum anxiously on the wheel with every ring, but there’s no answer. You try again to no avail. As a last resort, you try calling Topper. He picks up on the second ring.

“Y/N! Where you at?” You can hear the noise of the party in the background.

“Top, is Rafe with you?”

“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere! I saw him just a few minutes ago.”

“Great, I’m on my way.” You hang up before he even has a chance to say goodbye, turning around in the middle of the road to make your way to Jason’s house.

For once, you’re glad you live on such a small island, because it only takes you a few minutes to get to the party. You park quickly and head inside, looking for your boyfriend all the while. It only takes you a few seconds to spot Topper and Sarah in the living room.

“Hey girl!” Sarah gives you a big hug.

“Hey, have you seen your brother?”

She shakes her head. “Last I saw he was in the backyard.”

“No, no,” Topper chimes in, “We saw him a few minutes ago. I think he was heading to the back room.”

“Oh yeah!” Sarah nods along.

“Thanks guys.” You head in the direction they pointed, ignoring their calls to take a shot with them. The only thought in your head after hearing that message is finding your boyfriend and making sure he’s okay.

Pushing through the crowds, you finally make your way into the back room, letting out a sign of relief when you see your boyfriend sprawled out on the couch. He turns your way, catching your eye with a deer in the headlights expression on his face. The relief you felt disappearing as fast as it arrived when you see the white power under his nose.

Before Rafe can say a word, you spin on your heel, heading back the way you came.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” He calls after you, but you don’t stop.

It isn’t until you push past your friends and out the front door until he finally catches up to you. Rafe grabs your arm, spinning you to face him. Behind him you can see Sarah and Topper have followed the two of you into the front yard with confused and concerned looks on their faces.

“Y/N, baby, would you stop? Where are you going?”

“Where am I going? Rafe, are you kidding me?” You shove his hand off your arm. “I’m going home.”

“Why?”

“Because you are high out of your mind!” He has the decency to look ashamed at that. “You told me you were done with this, Rafe. You knew how uncomfortable you using drugs made me and you told me you were done, that I was worth more than the high. Clearly that wasn’t true.” You turn back toward your car.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, Y/N? I needed you and you weren’t there! You didn’t even answer the phone when I called.”

You whirl around. “I was at work! I didn’t even have my phone on me, Rafe. I had no idea that you called.” Rafe opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “No. You don’t get to blame this on me. I rushed over here after a long, miserable shift of replaying our fight over and over in our mind, just to make sure you were okay. You made this choice. You chose to throw away everything we had. Six months down the drain for a meaningless high.”

“Baby, please.” The tears in his eyes and pain on his face threaten to crack you in half, but you’ve made up your mind. This is one thing you can’t forgive.

You can barely get the words out, your voice nothing more than a broken whisper. “I’m done.”

You rush to your car, leaving Rafe standing there in shock. Before you can shut your door, Sarah is there pulling you into a hug. “Let me come with you, you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

You shake your head. “No, stay with Rafe. He's your brother. He needs you more right now. He just gave up eight months clean and sober, that’s going to be hell to come back from.”

She just gives you an uncertain look. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

You try to hold it together as you drive home, but you don’t make it more than a few miles before you have to pull over, crying too hard to continue. By the time you make it home, it’s been over an hour since the party. You crawl in bed straight away, crying until there’s no tears left and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

-

(Back to present)

Rafe stumbles back into the living room, looking for anything and everything that will distract him from thoughts of you. He makes it to the kitchen, quickly downing a shot before pouring himself another when he hears a noise. He freezes for a moment, thinking the universe is taunting him, then turns slowly.

There you are talking to Sarah, beautiful as ever, with your head thrown back in a laugh, and another man’s arm around your waist.

-

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